Disclaimer: This story is a piece of fanfiction. I do not own the Teen Wolf TV show or any of the characters featured, all of which are owned by the Teen Wolf writers.
AN: Please read - Okay, so I'd like to take a moment to point out that this was my first ever piece of fan-fiction, which I had written way back in 2012 - So be nice. [I have tried to rework it as much as I can without changing too much of my original work.]
WARNING: Fluffy nonsense dead ahead!
"Hello, this is Stiles, the most awesome of the most awesomest beings in the whole of Beacon Hills. How may I help you?" The brunette teen drawled down the phone in greeting, as he lazed idly upon his bed, patting his stomach gently with his unoccupied hand, along to a tune that could only be heard in his head.
"Stiles, I need your help," Derek's familiar brash baritone growled in answer.
"What - you mean right now?" Stiles smirked playfully, as he flicked imaginary lint off his pillow.
Letting out an animalistic sound that left no doubt to the presence of the wolf that lurked just beneath all of his beautifully tan skin, Derek responded sarcastically, with an underline of tension in his voice, "No, tomorrow would be best - of course, I mean right now!"
"Well, there's no need to be a sour-wolf, is there? I was just asking," Stiles huffed out, with narrowed eyes locked upon his plain white ceiling, as he considered just hanging up.
That man is forever growling at me, he thought slightly irritated. If he wasn't such a sex god Stiles would punch him in the throat, and then promptly run away, on principle. He got it okay, Derek had had more than just his fair shit happen to him in his life, but they all had shit to deal with. It didn't excuse being a dick to everyone though, especially to him, who had gone out of his way on numerous occasions to save his growly-ungrateful-ass.
"And anyway - I can't - I'm busy."
"You're busy?" Derek asked, with a touch of incredulity in his voice, "I'm bleeding to death and you tell me you're busy - really Stiles - really?"
"Well, if you were nicer to me maybe I wouldn't be so busy, now would I? ...Wait, did you say bleeding to death, like, with blood!" He gasped, all but flinging his body up and off of the bed so fasted he gave himself a head rush.
Groaning, he stumbled through his house in a flustered rush, bashing into walls and tripping down every other step, as he made haste to his front door. Keys...where did he put his keys again?
"Look, Stiles - I don't care what you're doing, just get here before I have to hunt you down and rip your throat out...with my teeth."
Well, that sounds pleasant, Stiles thought to himself distractedly, as he overturned several of the pots his father kept on a cabinet by the front door. Ugh, he groaned in frustration, why couldn't they just have a key hook on the wall like everyone else?
"Keys - I need my keys, Derek!" Stiles all but screamed down the phone, make Derek on the other end of the line jerk it back from his ear with a wince. "The car - I left them in the car!"
Running, well, hoping since he had previously run into the doorframe and not out of it, Stiles only scarcely made it to his jeep in one piece. "Don't worry Derek, I'm coming!" He tried to set the wolf's mind at rest.
Stiles wasn't a 100% sure, but he thought he heard Derek mutter on the other end of the line, "Because that's so reassuring. Yep - I'm gonna' die." Nah, Stiles thought, he was just hearing things.
"Where are you?" Stiles inquired, after driving randomly for five minutes, suddenly realizing he hadn't a clue as to where the injured wolf was.
"My house - second floor - third door on the left," Derek grunted out in obvious pain, mentally willing Stiles to drive faster.
"Right, I got it. Your house - second floor - first door on the left," Stiles repeated into the phone with a confirming nod.
"THIRD! DOOR!" Derek shouted, making Stiles jump and almost drop his phone out the window as he found himself speeding down Derek's driveway.
"I'm here, see you in a bit, my sour-wolf," Stiles smirked, hanging up quickly before he could hear Derek's trail of growls at his chosen endearment. Well, if he wasn't such a sour-wolf all the time, Stiles wouldn't have to call him it now would he?
Following Derek's instructions, his house...check, the second floor...check, third door on the left...oh my god! Stiles had to gasp at what he saw - Derek lay on the floor, clutching at his lower abdomen, teeth gritted in pain. Blood soaked his once white T-shirt, as well as the limp hand trying to apply pressure.
"What the hell happened to you man, there's blood everywhere?"
In response, Derek simply looked up at him with the 'no shit Sherlock' look, as Stiles, ever so helpful, pointed out the obvious. "Wolfs...bane...bullet," Derek managed to grit out.
Groaning, Stiles rolled his eyes, "Seriously dude, when are you going to learn? Stay away from chicks with bigger guns than you."At the mention of Derek's guns, Stiles' eyes automatically snapped to the arms in question - Derek did had a nice set of guns, Stiles had to admit.
"Stiles - Antidote! Now!" Derek growled.
Seriously, Stiles thought, if he didn't stop with the growly pants Stiles was going to have to kick him. Stiles never thought he'd ever have it in him to kick a wounded animal, but Derek would most defiantly be an exception.
"You mean this antidote?" Stiles smirked cockily, as he dropped his bag to the floor and pulled out said antidote, giving it a little shake in its little plastic zip-lock baggy.
Since the whole magic bullet fiasco, Stiles had decided it would be best if he had some at hand, just in case one of his wolves decided to go and get themselves shot - again. It just made life easier, and the probability of it happening again was more than likely, what with their pack's track record.
"Stiles," Derek muttered warningly, as Stiles teased him.
"Fine, fine, let's fix your wolfy butt."
Kneeling next to the bleeding wolf's side, Stiles gently pulled up Derek's T-shirt, trying not to notice just how ripped Derek truly was, given how inappropriate the timing was. Blood was smeared everywhere, fresh and dried, making his abs shine in a sickly shade of red that really should not have appealed to Stiles at that moment. The bullet hole was clear to see, seeing as the bullet was still lodged firmly in the there, making the flesh around the wound smoke slightly.
"Gross," Stiles muttered, looking at the wound, fake gagging, as he went about burning the rare form of Wolfsbane for Derek's wound.
"Just get on with it," Derek muttered, secretly loving the way Stiles unconsciously rubbed his left hand soothingly on Derek's leg, as he gathered the smoking plant in his right hand.
"Okay - ready?"
At Derek's firm nod, Stiles rubbed the now burnt plant into the wound, wincing at Derek's sharp howl of pain. Derek's back bowed off the ground, as he bucked up into the hand Stiles was using to apply the antidote. Growling, Derek's eyes flashed red and then back to his soft blue in rapid assession. Mr Sexy-Alpha didn't look too happy, not that Stiles blamed him his anger, if he kept getting shot with poisonous bullets he'd be pissed too.
"Better?" Stiles asked with a sympathetic smile, as he patted Derek's leg affectionately.
"Well, if you don't count the agonizing pain - yeah," Derek said, as he rolled over onto his knees and then to his feet, using Stiles as a crutch.
With both of their combined efforts, they managed to reposition Derek so he was lying down on the bed in the corner of the room, instead of what Stiles was only now noticing was a soot-covered floor. As Derek closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in pain, Stiles chose that time to observe his surroundings. The room was quite large, with a big four post bed and what looked to be an on suite off to the far side of the cavernous room. The walls and flooring wore the damage the fire had caused like a rusted medal. It made the room look both older than its age and very sad - broken. In some ways, Stiles pondered, the room its-self was much like Derek. Well, he wasn't broken, more like lost. Stiles had decided a while ago that he was going to help find Derek, the Derek he had been before that night, before he had lost everything.
Turning back to Derek, Stiles became startled, he didn't realize Derek had been staring at him all along. That steady blue gaze locked on to his nervous brown ones, holding him captive. Not for the first time, Stiles marvelled at the sheer beauty that was Derek Hale. With his tall muscled frame and short raven hair, the man was quite frankly, in Stiles book anyway, a god among men in his own right.
Stiles wasn't too sure when he realized he had clear undeniable gay tendencies, though he didn't class himself as such, after all, he's only ever liked one guy - his sour-wolf. At first, he had hated Derek for making him feel the way he does, seeing it as his fault, until him, Stiles had never looked at a member of the same sex lustfully. But then after hours of gay porn, swirly fries, and staring at Derek every chance he got... he concluded it wasn't so bad. Stiles even wondered if Lydia had jinxed him when she said in reference to Derek, "He could turn a straight man gay - he's that hot." Boy, could she call them.
"Are you just going to stand there?" Derek muttered tiredly, as he shifted over on the bed, making room for Stiles' slim form, though he'd probably never admit it.
Slowly and in a very awkwardly Stiles-like fashion, Stiles slid onto the bed next to a now silent Derek. Stile wasn't sure what to make of Derek's invitation, at least he wasn't asking him to leave. He lay there, stiff, as he ran through different conversational topics that he could start up through his mind, something to cut some of the awkwardness.
"So...nice house, it's a little bit crispier than I'd have chosen. Though, the soot on the walls really does makes the windows pop...if you ask me, and that hole in the ceiling...makes for a very good improv sky-light," Stiles rambled, fiddling his hands with the pull strings on his favourite red hoodie.
"Shut up, Stiles," Derek huffed gently, a fond half-smile tugging at his thin lips.
"Hey, I dropped what I was doing to run over here and save your ungrateful arse, did I get a thank you? No - I didn't. So, I'd really appreciate it if you could refrain from the rudeness, Wolf-boy." Yeah, that told you, Stiles thought to himself.
"Thank you, Stiles," Derek muttered softly, eyes locked once again with Stiles' ones.
"Too late, a simple thank you isn't going to cut it this time buddy."
"It's not?" Derek questioned curiously, a thick brow arching slightly.
"Nope," Stiles smirked, popping the 'P'.
"Then what will?"
Stiles was just winging it up till that point. He wanted to ask Derek so badly for what he thought would be a good, scrap that, fantastic thank you, but he was scared. What if Derek said no - what if he rejected him and told him to leave? Could Stiles' heart take it? Only one way to find out he supposed - here goes nothing...
"Kiss me."
Derek didn't look surprised, or even confused for that matter, nor angry. He just looked at Stiles as if he was talking about the weather. His eyes flashed red for a second before he suddenly leaned forward, capturing Stiles' soft lips in a crushing kiss.
He did it - he kissed me! Stiles' mind screamed as he awoke from his shocked state and enthusiastically kissed Derek back with everything he had in him.
Derek pulled away, but before Stiles could even begin to protest, he started to trail sweet chaste little kisses down his neck. Resulting in an undignified moan, as Stiles arched his back up into Derek, who had now climbed on top of him. His lips reached Stiles' jaw, tracing a line from his ear to his collarbone with open-mouthed kisses. His wet lips were hot against Stiles' skin, spreading warmth, resulting in an outbreak of chills that spread throughout his body. Stiles tried to steady his breathing, but he couldn't, he couldn't stop his heart from pounding a wild taboo in his chest. His blood flowed rapidly into his soft, flushed cheeks, making his face as red as it had ever been.
Derek lifted his hands up to Stiles' face, tracing his jaw gently before moving them to pull his jumper and shirt up over his shoulders. Then finally, Derek moved his rough textured hands up where he could entwine them deep within Stiles' soft light brown hair. Stiles eagerly put his greedy little hands upon Derek's waist, all the while pulling him closer on top of his own chest.
He's ruined kissing for me - how can kissing anyone else ever compare? Stiles remarked silently into his own mind with a bitter edge, as he ravished Derek's mouth once again. Stiles looked up at Derek with a big goofy smile plastered on his face and hoped that this moment would never have to end. He pulled Derek in for a hug, to which the wolf complied, leaning down to nuzzle into Stiles' little round nose before pressing their lips together again.
At first, it had started off gentle, like he was afraid to hurt Stiles, but all too soon the kissing had quickly changed, as Stiles responded by pushing up against him, and kissed Derek with so much passion that the big Alpha saw stars. He felt Stiles little tongue run across his bottom lip and opened his mouth to let their tongues explore each other. He ran his fingers through Derek's short hair and pulled him closer, before pulling away from him completely so they could both catch a breath.
"Wow, sour-wolf, boy can you kiss," Stiles breathed, putting a dazed hand up to his tingling mouth.
And in answer, Derek just gave him the biggest, goofiest smile Stiles had ever seen grace the usually stern looking man's face.
Stiles didn't know exactly what it all meant, was Derek his boyfriend now? Or was that silly to just assume such a thing, after all, it was just one kiss. He didn't know what the hell was happening. But what he did know was that at this moment, he was happy and by the look on his sour-wolf's face, so was he. Stiles didn't think this would be the last make-out session he and Derek would have.
And he couldn't wait for the next one.