A/N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoy! This is my first ever fanfic, and I'm so excited to finally have something uploaded after years of reading other writer's stories on this site.

Oh and just in case it's not glaringly obvious, the section in italics is a flashback to earlier that same day.

It's a one-shot but if people like it there may come a sequel (which would probably be purely smut. Sorry?). Love to you all! -Rach

Stiles was pissed. In both senses of the word. He had had a really shitty day and all he had wanted to do was hole up in the living room with Scott and snacks and spend a few mind-numbing hours playing video games (while Scott simultaneously begged for his forgiveness).

Then the bastard had to go and ditch him for Isaac.

Now Stiles didn't want to begrudge Scott his happiness, but would it kill the guy to take 10 minutes for his oldest friend? It was painfully obvious that his best-friend had feelings for the tall blonde Abercrombie of a werewolf (despite Scott's unwavering cries of "but I'm straight!" whenever it was brought up). Hell, Stiles could see why. While he himself might lean more towards the dark rugged bad-boy type, he was a teenage boy for god's sake and he couldn't help if his mind wandered sometimes.
Stiles had long since come to terms with the fact he swung both ways – hypothetically of course; he doubted anyone was going to "swing" his way anytime soon.

So, the teenager went ahead with plan B. Pilfer some of his dad's cheap whiskey and wallow in his frustration and anger towards the pack. It's not as though his old man would notice anyway, he drank through the stuff like it was water. And with a double shift just having started that night Stiles was left with a fuck-ton of very alone time.

When the fourth DVD of the night (morning?) whirled to an end, and Stiles could no longer see straight, he flicked off the TV and started his ascent to his room, then crashed on his bed.

With nothing more to distract him, Stiles' mind drifted to the other reason he had been pissed with Scott. He glared at the faint dim of the streetlights leaking around his blinds (not wanting to close his eyes and allow his brain to keep whirling in his skull). Scott fucking knew about his bestfriend's crush.

Derek slammed Stiles against the tree trunk, pushing an "oomph" from the younger man. The werewolf dropped back into a defensive position, one clawed hand outstretched in front of him and the other behind holding Stiles in place, sharp points pricking into the human's chest.
He let out a low curling snarl as his betas ripped tore into the approaching creature.

Soon the whole pack was grouped together again, and Peter was carting of the monster's remains to God knows where ("probably has his own private graveyard," Stiles shuddered).
Each pack member was cleaning their claws in the grass (or in Kira and Lydia's case, their silver sword and blades), and Stiles was watching for the inevitable reprimanding from Derek for 'not being careful enough'. But it never came. Not one ask questions when things were going his way, the human quickly edged around the pack and set off in the direction of his jeep, calling over his shoulder for Scott.
…Who was currently giggling with Isaac.

Stiles rolled his eyes so hard they might just tumble out of his head. "Scott. Hurry your furry ass up, I've got to beat Dad home."

"Just leave your jeep here with us," Isaac managed to choke out, barely pulling his grin into neutral expression. "I'm sure Derek could drop you home."

Okay, where the fuck did that just come from?

"I'm… good. Uh, Scott I guess just grab a lift with someone else if you're gonna hang around."

Isaac continued as though Stiles hadn't spoken. "I mean clearly you get something out of being rescued by our big strong Alpha all the time."

The snickered rolled through the whole pack this time, and Stiles shot a glare towards the blond. At least Scott had the decency to look a little guilty but he didn't step in. For once Stiles had no retort. He was used to being the butt of the joke most of the time but things were getting a little personal.

"I bet it's those arms." Erica chimed in. "Or maybe Stiles likes being pushed up against things."

He couldn't help the blush that joined the glare and flared across his cheeks.

"Fuck you, Erica" he chewed out.

"Ooh talk dirty to me." She winked in reply as Boyd rolled his eyes.

Derek stepped forward. "Alright now, that's enough."

Stiles flicked his eyes towards the man with a smile of thanks – which fell as the Alpha let his laughter slip through. Without another word, the human spun on his head and hurried away.

"Come on Stiles, it's not like you have a crush on him!" Lydia yelled out, and in an instant the laughter had stopped. Everyone but her had heard his heartbeat pick up. "Oh fuck." She mumbled.

Stiles was almost at his jeep his hands digging for the keys when he heard heavy footsteps behind him. "What do you want, Scott?" He sighed.

"Stiles" – the human's head whipped back, the heavy blush having returned. So, not Scott. – "I'm sorry."

He stared at the Alpha in shock for a moment before his brain caught up. "Whatever" He spat out. He grabbed the car door and yanked it open. Throwing Derek another look he raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'you're still here?'.

For what it was worth, at least the werewolf looked slightly apologetic. And flustered, Stiles noted with the smallest ounce of amusement.

"Stiles, look. It's okay if… I mean, we're not going to judge you if you're… you know…"

The younger man just snorted. He sure as hell wasn't going to help Derek find his words.

"Stiles are you… gay?"

"No." he replied, a little too quickly.

The Alpha cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "You're… kind of lying?"

"I'm bi, okay?" Stiles spat out. "Happy now? And yes, I do have a crush on you. But don't worry it's purely physical, I still think you're a fucking asshole on the inside."

Derek let Stiles slam his door shut behind him, and didn't point out that the young man's heart skipped over those last words.

Fuck them. Stiles was sick of everyone always laughing at his expense. He was practically the brains behind every major tactical decision yet no one took him seriously. And now they had even more ammunition. The boy felt his rage bubbling up. He knew no-one really had ill intentions towards him but he was angry and hurt and half a bottle deep.

With a roar, he kicked out at his deck chair at it went flying into the opposite wall, bringing down his hanging mirror with a resounding crash. And suddenly all his anger drained away leaving him feeling empty. Stiles walked over to the mirror and started picking up the broken shards. In his half drunken state, he managed to slice open his palm, but the alcohol was evidently a great painkiller and he simply grabbed an old flannel to wrap around it as he carried on.

Suddenly there was a thump at his window and the sound of claw scrambled to open it. Stiles darted up to unlock it, but his face dropped into a scowl as he saw who had just slinked into the room.

"Stiles are you okay? I felt your anger, then I heard a smash and outside I could smell blood- "Derek cut off and his eyes narrowed. "Have you been drinking?"

"Yes Dad." Stiles huffed at the werewolf. He returned to the mirror. After wrapping the pieces and dumping them in his rubbish bin he turned back to the Alpha; who was still standing by the window looking as awkward as Stiles had ever seen him. "Well clearly, I haven't been murdered or anything, so why are you still here?" He deadpanned.

Derek edged closer. "Can I at least check your hand?"

Stiles sigh but obliged and shoved his arms towards the older man.

Derek grabbed his arm and gingerly pulled the younger man towards the bed. Pulling off the bandage he hissed in sympathy at the sight. "Okay this needs to be cleaned up. Stay here."

As the werewolf went to find the first aid kit Stiles allowed himself to fall back on the bed. With his good arm thrown across his eyes he didn't Derek come back into the room, or flush red at the site of Stiles spread out on the bed before him. Stiles started slightly when Derek picked up his hand to wash and dress his cut. With some struggle, he pulled himself up (and groaned as the world began spinning around him).

The Alpha chuckled and Stiles threw another glare his way, but this one didn't have much heat behind it.

Fuck Derek was gorgeous. The werewolf must've smelt the arousal beginning to drift off Stiles because he suddenly stiffened up and pulled broke eye contact, and the young man was reminded of why he was so angry at the Alpha. Then he had an idea. Hell, he wasn't above a little revenge. And it seems his conscious was just as drunk as the rest of him as it spurned him on. Stiles leaned in towards the man as he was almost finished patching him up.

"You're always taking care of me." Stiles muttered. "Such a brave, strong Alpha." He was rewarded with a faint blush appearing on Derek's cheeks. Oh, he was going to have fun with this. "And shoving me up against cars and trees to protect me from big, bad monsters. I bet you like that part."

Derek's shoulders tensed even further but he didn't say anything as he dropped Stiles' bandaged hand. The younger man continued, pushing the side of his thigh lightly into the werewolf's.

"Do you like having me helpless beneath you? Cause I do. Knowing I'm completely as the mercy of your claws, and teeth…". When did Stiles get so close to Derek? He could practically lean forward and bite into the werewolf's neck if he wanted to. The human knew he was probably taking things too far but there was no way in hell he was going to stop until Derek made him.

Derek was trembling slightly but he still hadn't moved or said anything.

"I've always wondered whether you'd be gentle, or rough… I think I'd love both." And with that out in the air – where the hell was Stiles' filter anyway – the young man thought 'fuck it. What's the worst that could happen?'
It only took one quick movement and Stiles had swung his leg around and over so that he was straddling Derek. The Alpha was obviously caught off guard (he hadn't thrown Stiles off at the very least) and he sucked in a sharp breath. Suddenly Stiles' brain stuttered to a standstill as he tried to process something. Was Derek hard?

With all the speed of a supernatural being Derek grabbed Stiles behind the neck and pulled him in. They met in a clash of lips and teeth (and even in Stiles state he knew he was probably doing an awful job) but they quickly slowed down a fraction and found their rhythm. Stiles felt Derek's tongue play along the edge of his lips, and he eagerly let him into his mouth. Without warning the werewolf bit down on the younger man's bottle lip, and it tore a deep moan from Stiles throat. Derek rolled his hips up in response. Their jeans were uncomfortable tight and Stiles was just about to suggest they get rid of them when Derek pulled away slightly and rested his forehead on the other man's. A needy whine slipped from Stiles' lips tino the room.

Derek sighed and closed his eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"What? No, yes we definitely SHOULD be doing this!"

"Stiles you're drunk."

He got an eyeroll in response. "Thanks, Captain Obvious. It's the whole reason I started kissing you. Or did you start kissing me? Regardless there was kissing involved so we should get back to that pronto. Come onnnn."

Despite Stiles' attempts to lean back in, Derek easily picked him up and deposited him on the bed, placing himself on the desk chair on the other side of the room. Stupid werewolf strength.

Said werewolf chuckled at the human's pout. "It's not that I don't want to." Derek flushed again (and Stiles immediately filed that sight away under his favourite things.) "But it wouldn't be fair to take advantage of you."

"Like I fucking care bout fair right now" Stiles mumbled.

Derek just grinned and shook his head.

Stiles decided to try a different approach. He was only human, sometimes he had to fight dirty.
"Please... Alpha."

The Alpha's eyes darkened with those two whispered words, and in a blink he was out of the chair and lying flush on top of Stiles. Fangs brushed the young man's neck, and he shivered in delicious fear and want.

"Stiles." Derek growled. (Stiles thinks he could probably cum just by listening to that voice.) "You need to stop."

The young man deflated beneath him, and tears threatened to grace his cheeks. God he was so stupid. Of course, Derek would get hard with all the fucking arousal scents he was throwing out into the air. He didn't return any feelings; his body was only reacting naturally.

Derek softened at the waves of hurt and self-deprecation rolling off the human. He moved to the side and pulled the younger man into his arms. "Hey, it's okay. Come on. We'll talk in the morning okay? But right I really think you should just go to sleep."

No mention was made of the tears Stiles knew had appeared, and for that he was grateful. "Can you stay?" He asked, and instantly regretted it. Even if Derek did say yes, he was only setting himself up for more heartache in the morning when he woke up alone.
There was silence for a few minutes, and Stiles wondered how long it would take Derek to figure out how exactly to say no.

"Yeah. I'll stay. I'll be here when you wake up, okay?"

They didn't say much after that, Stiles trying to commit all this to memory so he could come back to it when Derek let him down gently. What could he say, he was a masochist through and through.

"Thanks Der." Stiles didn't see Derek's smile at the nickname spoken in a mumble; and when the werewolf pressed a kiss to the younger man's forward he was already fast asleep.

Even without looking up he could tell the bed was empty besides him. He had said he was going to stay until the morning. Did Derek really think he was so fragile that he had to lie just so he didn't have to deal with a Stiles shaped mess? Hurt curled in with the embarrassment and he tried not to cry. (Fuck, again. He cried in front of fucking Derek).

Slowly he sat up and began the move out of the bed. Grabbing his phone to check the time, he noticed he had a new notification.

New message from: Big Bad Alpha

Stiles didn't want to read it. It was probably some long winded, kind bland apology about leaving and why they couldn't do anything. But he knew leaving it would only cause the night toxic feeling in his stomach to linger longer.

Big Bad Alpha: Stiles, sorry I'm not there. I wanted to stay, but your dad got home early. Listen we really need to talk in person. (Stiles' stomach dropped. He didn't want to see Derek in person ever again actually thank you very much!). Text me when you wake up, I want to take you to breakfast. Oh and make sure you brush your teeth. As much fun as I had kissing you I think next time I'd like to do it without the taste of whiskey ;)

Well. Derek had killed him. Stiles was dead. Rip, straight off to heaven (or hell, I mean he was just kissing a DUDE). And was that a fucking wink?

Stiles: I still think you're a fucking asshole.

Stiles: But breakfast sounds awesome. Come get me in 30?

Stiles: And Derek… thanks.

Stiles: Alpha ;)