Notes: This is a sequel, guys! If you don't want to be confused (or, really, if you want to be slightly less confused) about what you are about to read, check out the first one, This Is A Gift, It Comes With A Price. And, really, if you're asking yourself 'why?' the answer is 'Derek Hale as a firefighter, people, ovaries are going to combust!' Thank you and have a nice day.
It was bad. Stiles knew it was bad, because he could feel it in the pit of his stomach that Derek was in trouble; that Derek needed him, and he couldn't make his Jeep go fast enough, it didn't matter how many hours Derek spent tinkering with it and turning her into a supermodel of a car.
If Stiles could just focus on that; if he could just focus on the good things, Derek would be alright. Derek laughing at him trying to seduce him out of the garage, away from his Jeep; watching Derek emerge from all the grease or the soot that would smear over him and getting to put his mouth on clean skin-only so overeager sometimes he'd end up with a mouthful of soap; lying in on Saturday mornings when it was dark and rainy and dreary and all Derek wanted to do was lie there and hold him; a nip on the very tip of his nose when he was ruining Derek's attempts at romanticism. Stiles knew what that unreadable look was now; he knew that in the soft, warm moments when Derek was all his, Derek still couldn't believe that he'd gotten what he'd wanted. Couldn't believe he had the chance to be happy.
Stiles loved him like a sickness, and didn't ever want it to stop. Derek would laugh with him, would make smart-ass remarks and roll his eyes and tease him; he'd be grumpy and surly and Stiles could pick him out from the treeline more than once while he was coaching lacrosse games and making his students question his sanity. They had a life that was almost normal; they were safe and surrounded by family and they were happy.
Stiles got three blocks away and he could see the flames, hear them through the confines of the Jeep as he got closer. Once he was within sight of the barricade, Stiles parked the car without really stopping, running for the barricade, unable to so much as breathe, "Marcus, what's going on?!" Stiles demanded of the almost-faceless man trying to keep every one calm as they herded them backwards, "Where's Derek?!"
How Stiles could tell who he was, and how Stiles could tell Derek wasn't within his line of sight, none of the others had ever questioned; preferring to leave down to the lovebirds and Derek's need to know what was happening with Stiles working both ways, "There's been a collapse, Stiles. Derek went in because he thought your father was in there." Stiles felt that. Oh, there was no way Stiles was ever going to be able to forget or even dampen the memory of feeling that. His dad wasn't meant to work that day, and Derek had known that...Derek had known that and Derek had gone in. Derek had gone in after his father and there was a collapse. There was a collapse and Derek and his father were going to die in that inferno.
It was like all air had been sucked out of the world. There wasn't any heat anymore, or any sound beyond the ringing hollow of emptiness.
Something blew outwards, the force of the shockwave rocking everything and everyone.
Stiles could feel Lydia's hands yanking him back, could feel himself being buried into Allison's chest, her hand weaving through his hair. He could feel Isaac wrap around him from the other side. He could feel Jackson touching his back. Boyd. Erica. Scott. Danny. His pack was here. There was nothing else left in the world.
It was worse than the first time.
The first time, Stiles had been angry. He'd been enraged and hurt and wrathful. He couldn't lose Derek before he'd had him, so he'd been adamant about getting him back.
It was so much worse than the first time.
The screaming in Stiles's gut went from 'Derek's in trouble' to 'Derek's dead', and Allison's voice broke through the ringing, "We have to get him out of here."
"No." Stiles bit off, his arms unclenching from around her, his body swinging back almost violently as he launched himself away, "No. I won't...I won't, not until I know. Not until I see." Lydia's clever fingers were sweeping up tears almost before they fell, and she drew him in, kissing his forehead.
"We'll stay." Lydia told them, her voice brooking no argument, "Jackson, breakfast; Scott, Allison, blankets and somewhere to sit; Danny, Isaac, you two are on panic duty: if Stiles so much as sways, he sits, he gets blankets, and anything else he needs-you two stay close. Boyd, find a way to help out with the barricade so they can focus on the flames; Erica, call in that favour Lux Coffee owes me, these people are less likely to go into shock or get themselves hurt if they're distracted by a hot blond giving out free java." Lydia turned his chin to look Stiles dead in the eye, "Stiles Stilinski, you are going to get through this because we love you. You're going to sit here with the family that you made, and you're going to hurt as much as you need to. And when Derek saunters out of those flames with your dad in tow, I'll even let you be the first to hit him over the head and tell him he's an idiot. Do you hear me?" Yes. "Do you understand?" Yes. "Good. Now let Danny and Isaac cuddle you. Isaac's flipping out." Lydia released his arms, and Stiles was suddenly engulfed in Isaac, Danny at his back, rubbing soothingly as Isaac just hugged him to the point of creaking his bones.
The police station had been engulfed by the fires of hell it seemed. Stiles sat, half on top of Isaac half on top of Danny, carefully angled so that he could see the flames if he turned, but only the majority of his pack if he didn't. Boyd was helping move people back, Erica coaxing along from the other end, and an ambulance came, then another. There was a steaming mug of Allison's insane creation of cinnamon-vanilla mocha that he'd once pledged as his god and holy saviour. She'd spiked it with just a hint of peppermint schnapps, and the sweet, creamy warmth flooded through his numb body as if she'd known that was just what he'd needed. Danny, who usually didn't partake of most of the pack touching, splayed his hand over Stiles's still-shrieking stomach, singing on a breath in a language Stiles didn't understand as he rubbed away the ache and brought fresh tears to Stiles's eyes. Jackson brought provisions, and the panic attack hit Stiles full-on, stealing his ability to breathe.
Derek knew how to take care of it. He'd done it a few times, when Stiles had had a particularly close call with a Big Bad that wouldn't die; when he'd first started his job and his colleagues had hated him; when he'd just been pushed too far, and he really couldn't take another thing on his shoulders. Derek knew how to bend his head down so that just the very tops of their foreheads were touching, his hand on the back of Stiles's neck, massaging with touches that were so strong and so gentle it made Stiles's heart hurt for another reason. Derek knew how to talk to him, low and sweet, telling him things about the early hours some mornings, when Derek would come off shift and just stand in the doorway, watching Stiles dream. He'd tell him stories about what he thought Stiles would be dreaming about. He'd make him laugh. Once, he'd even sung to him.
Scott stepped in when Isaac and Danny curled around Stiles, blocking off any way to escape. He pulled Stiles out from between them, soothing them both and kneeling in front of him, both his hands cupping Stiles's, "Allison's pregnant." Scott whispered, and that hit Stiles harder than the panic attack had. Scott's hands were shaking around his, and Stiles knew what he was afraid of immediately.
"You're going to be an awesome dad." Stiles breathed, sniffing and jerking his body into working again, "And I'm going to be the best uncle that's ever been."
"You're going to teach my kids to call me 'potato' instead of 'dad', aren't you?"
Stiles smiled through the tears still pouring down his cheeks, "You bet your starchy ass." Allison huffed a laugh and Stiles cracked, sobbing and shaking and laughing.
Lydia draped herself over his lap, looking regal and above it all, and she hugged him around the neck, producing a tissue and dabbing away his tears, handing it to him to blow his nose. "C'mon, no more tears. You're pretty when you cry, but Derek's probably had enough to worry about tonight." Stiles growled at that, and she grinned at him, "There's our Little Red."
Lydia kept herself on his lap as Isaac and Danny resumed their seats under him, Allison and Scott cupping their hands over her stomach and smiling, starry-eyed. "Stiles?" Boyd called, and Stiles found himself without a Lydia, up, and over by his side faster than a human could actually go. Jackson sat beside Danny on the couch with Lydia in his arms, Isaac releasing Stiles's arm with a blush. It didn't matter, though. None of it mattered. "Derek managed to barricade himself and your father behind the steel door in evidence lock up and keep the worst of the explosion from reaching them. Your father's suffering from minor burns and smoke inhalation, but he'll be perfectly fine. They're taking him to the hospital. Derek used his body as a shield between your father and the flames, and the burns are extensive, but he's alive. He's unconscious, but alive." Relief almost took Stiles's legs out from under him. Erica held him up, her mouth right at his ear.
"You have to wait here for a little while, for Marcus to tell you, but then we'll get you to the hospital, okay?" He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, and he knew that he had to have had them open, but the very next thing he could take in was the hospital. And Derek screaming in pain. Isaac's shirt was gripped in his fist along with Erica's, Danny hanging on to Isaac, too, and Boyd actually twitching the urge to go to their Alpha and protect was so strong.
"They have to wash the burns," Stiles burst out, not even knowing how he knew that, but Erica let herself be pulled back until she was leaning against his chest, and Isaac let Danny wrap around him, petting through his hair, "he can't be sedated until there's less of a risk of coma, but they have to get the dead cells and debris out." Stiles pet through Erica's hair, handing her off to Boyd carefully, "I have to go find my dad. If you can't handle it, you have to leave. They're saving his life right now." Erica nodded slowly, and Boyd's jaw tightened with determination. Stiles almost didn't care, though; too caught up with dad and Derek and pain and screaming and fire.
His dad was sitting up, scowling, with an oxygen mask over his face. He looked almost relieved when Stiles found his bed and stormed his way through the nurses to see him, Melissa McCall herding the little newbies away with a firm, "He's the sheriff's kid, what the hell makes you think he's not just as goddamn stubborn?!"
Stiles crossed to the bed, sitting down on the visitor's chair and taking his dad's hand in both of his, looking at the bandaging over his skin for the minor burns Derek hadn't been able to protect him from.
"I'll keep you updated on Derek's treatment, Stiles. Your dad's going to have to stay overnight, and Derek will have to stay for probably a while, but they'll both be okay, honey." She kissed him on the forehead and Stiles thanked the deities, not for the first time, that Melissa and his dad started dating after he'd left for college.
Stiles looked into his dad's eyes and saw it there. Saw the whole thing. How Derek had saved him, and how unspeakably grateful the sheriff was that Stiles had found someone who would do that for him; found someone who loved him unconditionally and would put it all on the line to save him from hurting. "I love you both so much, Dad...I nearly died when Marcus told me…" Stiles managed, his throat tight and his eyes stinging and sore, and his father's hand squeezed around his, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you two." Stiles looked down, "Sorry. Stilinski men aren't supposed to cry-"
"When your mom was diagnosed...I cried for a week." The sheriff wheezed, reaching for his half-melted ice chips, putting that to his lips before Melissa McCall jerked back the curtain, eyes narrowed and unimpressed.
"Put the mask back on, Caleb," she threatened. She sighed, leaning against the end of his hospital bed, reaching over to run her fingers through Stiles's hair, "you came to stay with Scott and I. You remember that?" Stiles nodded slowly, and Melissa rubbed through his hair again, kissing his forehead, "Your dad told me that he couldn't handle her being gone. I told him he'd never be able to survive if he lost you, too. He pulled his shit together fairly well after that, I think." Melissa grinned at him coyly.
"Yeah, he's done fairly well." Stiles agreed quietly.
Melissa fixed Stiles with a professional look, "Derek's managed to heal himself enough already that, upon examination, the doctors have taken down their prognosis from 'permanent nerve damage' and worse to 'possibly, he won't even scar'. They don't suspect yet, they're too busy extolling the virtues of his gear, but if he heals Alpha-fast here, they're going to get damn suspicious," Melissa fixed him with her complete and undivided attention, "that being said, he's given you medical proxy, so you can decide to transfer him to a completely fictional care centre in LA for burn victims where he'll miraculously heal over a more human amount of time and return with his relieved life partner after enough time has passed, then return to work after physical therapy he's receiving from Danny, who is creating the paper trail of this fictional care centre probably as we speak."
"You are a magical creature." Stiles laughed, almost in tears, and his dad squeezed his hand, tears in his own eyes.
"Also, you'll have to go with him, of course, so Lydia's offered to sub in for you, and Scott and Isaac have both agreed to run errands for you guys while you have to stay off-radar."
"Where the hell did Scott's potato tendencies come from?"
"His grandfather." Melissa shrugged, flashing a tiny grin.
"Thank you, Melissa," Stiles sighed, standing up to hug her.
"Anything for you boys, Stiles. Now: Dr. Daniels is going to give you a hard time. A determined Stiles Stilinski's unstoppable. A determined Stiles Stilinski when it comes to Derek Hale is a fucking force of nature. Scare the living shit out of the troublesome asshole."
"Yes, ma'am." Stiles grinned sharply, a flash of mischief passing through his eyes that had set Alphas rocking back on their heels years ago.
It'd been fancy footwork to get Derek to mate with him back then. They'd been dating a week. But a mated Alpha was a stronger Alpha, and one with their own pack was even stronger than that, where the Alpha Pack hadn't been able to strengthen each other as much as one with Betas would. Stiles had done basically all the work. He had a whole set of coffee mugs from Erica to show for it.
"The pack wants to see Caleb, though-and you're the closest they can get to their Alpha right now, so-"
"I'm the best bet for keeping them in check." The sheriff nodded at the question in Stiles's eyes, "Send them in."
Stiles was asleep in the visitor's chair when Derek woke up, the tincture Melissa had slipped into his medications having knocked him out for a long, deep sleep where the drugs would've failed. Stiles wasn't sleeping deeply, though; he stirred the moment Derek draped a blanket over him, opening bleary eyes and turning them on Derek with a breathtaking depth to them, a pain and sadness that Derek hadn't ever wanted to see there, "I'm safe." Derek whispered, his throat raw and aching, not quite healed.
Stiles groaned, though the sound was partially a whimper, sitting up and shaking the last vestiges of sleep off, pulling himself to his feet, "Lay back down. Now." Stiles's hands were whisper-soft against his shoulders, and Derek didn't care about the pain, he kind of just wanted Stiles to be laying down with him. "You're healing really well. Tomorrow we're transferring you home, and you and I will be in hide out there until enough time's past for a miraculous recovery in some made-up burn victim care facility out of town. You have to lay down, though, Derek-for me. I know you're hurting right now, please, just worry about taking care of you." Stiles paused, looking him up and down, tears in his eyes, and Stiles bent and kissed him hard, tears running into the movement of their mouths, "Thank you for saving him." Stiles whispered, "I plan on hitting you for putting yourself in that much danger once you're fully healed, though."
Derek nodded, letting Stiles fit his oxygen mask back over his face and laying down, watching Stiles in a way he knew made Stiles squirm; trying to draw him in with his eyes alone.
Stiles took his hand, linking their fingers together before slipping his hand out of the grip again, massaging at Derek's palm with his thumbs for a moment almost thoughtfully before placing it against his chest, over his heart. "You know, the only reason they let me stay is because Melissa's my step-mom, and you basically made me your husband for all the life-affecting things. When Danny told me I wasn't just medical proxy but power of attorney, I nearly came in here and murdered you. You're not allowed to think about dying yet, Derek. I just got you. There's-it's never going to be enough time, but it hasn't been enough time, you shouldn't be even thinking of taking yourself away from me." Derek's hand fisted in Stiles's shirt, his eyes flashing red in lieu of taking the mask off to fully express how angry he was at that statement. "Fine, then, tell me what the ever-loving fuck you were thinking with all of this!" Derek shot him a heavy look, "I know it was the responsible route! I fully comprehend that, but you...Derek…" Derek simply stared up at him, raising his hand to cup Stiles's cheek with all the care in the world, "You are going to outlive me, Derek, you don't have to make these plans to take care of me; you're going to live to take care of me. Or, so help me, I'll never forgive you for it." Stiles sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Derek's chest, the gauze covering over his burns, "You're not allowed to leave me." Stiles whispered, "If you live to be one-hundred, I want to live to be one-hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you." Stiles felt like he was choking on the words, the flash of amusement in Derek's eyes letting him know he'd gotten the reference. Stiles leant forward, kissing Derek's forehead, his cheek, "I love you, you utter fool."
Derek was fully healed before the week was out; Deaton's care and having mated with Stiles speeding up the process exponentially.
Stiles traced over the flawless skin where Derek's wounds had been, pulling him close and tucking him between Stiles's body and the bed, his face pressed into Derek's pulse and his fingers tight in Derek's hair. Stiles was still trembling from his last orgasm, his mouth moving against Derek's skin silently, his body shifting closer in waves as Derek's large, work-hardened hand rubbed up and down his back. Stiles's nose was cold against his skin though the rest of him was burning hot, and Derek knew Stiles well enough to know that it wasn't just exertion.
Stiles's hands, feet, and nose would freeze, the rest of his body feverish when he was truly worried. Derek rubbed the back of his neck, his other arm wrapping around Stiles's body, pulling him over completely on top of Derek's chest. Derek rubbed through Stiles's hair, scrubbing his fingers against his scalp; breathing even and deep and slow, aware of his heart beating against Stiles's. Stiles's fingers traced over the veins in Derek's bicep to the soft of his elbow. Stiles kissed the corner of Derek's mouth, sniffing once before he settled his face back into the curve of his throat, Derek growling softly as Stiles's fingers traced over skin he knew was ticklish and smiling to himself, "Sleep."
"No." Stiles pulled his fingers slowly through the back of Derek's hair. Stiles shifted, bending his knees around Derek's waist so that he was straddling him, sitting up slightly and grinning down warmly.
"Stiles, I won't hurt you." Derek told him, wrapping his hands around Stiles's hips to stop him from doing anything else, "We've already had sex four times today, you're still shaking from the last time." Derek pulled him down by the arms, rolling him over and bracing himself up on his elbows to look down at him properly, "I'm healed. I'm safe. I'm not going to disappear if you let me go even a little bit."
"I'm not willing to test this hypothesis." Stiles growled, locking his arms and legs around Derek, "Please?" Stiles shifted, rubbing his hands over Derek's shoulders, curling his fingers against Derek's shoulder blade.
"What do you need from me, Stiles? What will make it better?"
Stiles whimpered, curling up into him, "I need you...I don't know. I just need you closer."
"I'm not going to fuck you again," Derek murmured, letting his weight drop down, his lips pressing to Stiles's throat, "but I think I know a way to make you feel better." Derek's hand passed over Stiles's eyes, and Stiles obediently shut them. Stiles felt the pad of Derek's finger trace over the curves of his lips, his own stealing butterfly kisses from Stiles's skin. Derek used his arm to sweep Stiles completely under his body, gently letting his weight press Stiles into the mattress, and it did help; Stiles hiccoughed once, the sharp dart of panic spearing through his scent lessening, and he clung onto Derek's body, pressing his face into Derek's neck and whispering to him, fast and breathy, telling him about that moment Stiles had woken up with a kick in his chest and the gut feeling that Derek was in trouble. Derek's broader body covered Stiles completely, pressed him down against the bed, and Derek let him talk, tracing over his forearms and down to his hands, the lines of veins and tendons on Stiles's long, delicate hands, bony and broad. He locked their fingers together on both hands, turning to nose at Stiles's neck and feel his heartbeat settling down.
"How are you always right?" Stiles choked out, clutching his hands almost too tightly.
Derek kissed him long and slow, letting Stiles demand it go deeper; feeling him tremble against stopping, fighting not to end it in order to allow him to breathe. "It felt right." He tells him simply, and Stiles's eyes don't open, his body becoming fluid and lax under Derek's, his eyelashes on his cheekbones.
"You have something you want to talk to me about." Stiles told him, "Spill." Derek couldn't help but laugh, fixed with damn near amber eyes and a thumb tracing over the blade of his cheek down to his lips thoughtfully at the sound.
Derek took a deep breath and cupped his hand around Stiles's cheek, kissing him again before talking, "Do you want me to quit?"
Stiles stilled with his fingers in Derek's hair, then took Derek's hand again, kissing his fingertips and knuckles thoughtfully as he spoke, "Yes. I want you to quit. I want you to never run into another burning building again. I want to keep you here; I want to keep you in bed with me for always. I want to never have to worry about you like that again. I never want to know what it feels like to be this close to losing you...No, I don't want you to quit. I want you to put me through all that all over again because you're a better man than any I've ever even heard of, because you'll make a difference, and you save lives. I want you to come home to me laughing that I reek of Isaac because he worries worse than I do and he thinks cuddling with me will somehow help. I want to kiss your dumb ass breathless when I come to a scene before you get cleaned up. Derek, it was me that convinced you to chase that dream you had of becoming a firefighter; if for no other reason than that it would kill me, don't base your decision here on anything but you. I will love your sorry ass no matter what. You are mine, and I would kill for you; I would die for you. But I won't demand that you abandon anything you really want. I will never do that." Stiles pulled him in for a kiss and sighed as he rested their foreheads together.
"Will you marry me?" Derek whispered against Stiles's lips, "The ring is sitting in my locker at work, but I can't imagine not being married to you as soon as possible. I love you so damn much." Stiles clung to him with arms and legs, eyes huge and disbelieving.
"Yes! Fucking-Derek! Yes, fuck yes!" Stiles laughed a little hysterically, hugging him tight. "God, I thought we were pretty much already married, I didn't need you to but I kind of hoped…" Stiles laughed breathlessly, kissing him hard and deep, letting the heat amp up until they were both breathless.
"Marcus was talking to me about it the other day, about how devoted he'd been and how the wedding just made it like an announcement to the world that Barbara was his." Derek shrugged, relaxing his weight onto Stiles again and pillowing his head on Stiles's shoulder, "I want the world to know you're mine." Stiles kept one of their hands interwoven, releasing the other to trace over the muscles of Derek's back.
They were on their second week of house arrest when Derek's phone rang.
Derek groaned from under Stiles on the garage floor, slightly covered in oil and lube and come, Stiles's face tucked against his neck. Stiles whimpered as he moved, Derek's cock slipping from his body as he got up and retrieved the phone, "This'd better be good, Scott, you're ruining my afterglow." Derek smiled to himself as Scott's indistinct voice went a little shrill over the phone line, too relaxed and sated and happy to pay attention-too relaxed and sated and happy to keep from falling asleep on the cold concrete floor.
Stiles's heartbeat stuttered in a bad way and his breath caught, and that was all the incentive Derek needed to snap to attention. "There's a missing person's report on a runner in town and I just came across the smell of...burnt meat...that has a large pile of ash and an MP3 to show for itself."
"Scott, I need you to be very careful right now, and I need you to tell me what you see around you. It'll look like a heat wave in the air, just a tiny shimmer…"
"I-I see it."
"Get out of there, get out of there now!" Stiles's eyes went wide, Derek on his feet and crossed over to him, the instinct to find Scott and protect warring with the very rational, very true notion that leaving without finding out what Stiles knows this thing is first would only end in either death by air-shimmer or Stiles skinning him alive for being an idiot and risking it. "Get out of the forest, and come here. I have to call Ian, they're Will o' the Wisps."
"I'll be there soon." Scott muttered as the sound of running picked up on his end.
Stiles hung up and leaned forward, resting his head against Derek's chest and leaning his weight into him, "I hate everything right now. And you have to put on pants. Which makes me hate it all worse." Stiles shook his head, "I have to call my dad and tell him to put a warning out about people going into the woods."
"Maybe they're catching up with me for making fun of their name," Derek chuckled, kissing the top of Stiles's head.
Stiles laughed, "What time is it in Ireland?"
"No idea. I'm going to clean up; make the call to your dad and come join me."
"Oooh, can we scar Scott?"
Derek chuckled, his hands brushing smoothly over Stiles's bare body, the smooth skin under his hands completely familiar; carefully memorized. Stiles leaned back into him, offering himself up easily, "You're insatiable."
"You always say that after one of us nearly dies." Stiles muttered softly.
"We need to work on that."
"It's a drawback, yeah." Stiles snickered. "Though the sex is not. Remove the cause, but not the symptom."
"Yes, master." Stiles's body shuddered deliciously despite the Riff Raff imitation in the words, and Derek had to work to remember there were responsibilities. "Go. Call."
"Filthy tease." Stiles griped, then squealed as Derek smacked his thigh lightly.
"I'll live up to all that promise, you just need to get done what needs doing."
"Hello, incentive…" Stiles purred, palming Derek's half-hard cock before planting a kiss on his shoulder and scurrying away completely before Derek could maul him.
Stiles must have talked at double speed because Derek had barely turned the faucet on before he was sliding into the bathroom behind him, cheeks rosy and eyes glowing with promise, crossing with nimble and dance-like steps Derek wouldn't have thought him possible of a few years ago. Stiles reached for him, his fingers cool on his arms before he reached up and fisted his hand in Derek's hair, bringing their mouths together hotly, tongue sliding against tongue and the most edible sounds stuttered out of Stiles's perfect, porcelain throat. Stiles gripped him just this side of too tightly, thumbing the tip before he slowed and stopped the desperate, hot kisses propagating between them like oversexed bunnies. Stumbling back into the still-lukewarm rainfall of water, Derek watched with hungry, burning eyes as Stiles stepped in with him and promptly dropped to his knees, his huge, vibrantly expressive brown eyes looking up at Derek over the length of his body, skin perfect and pale and so deceptively innocent; mouth red and wet and swollen with kissing, made for sin. Derek allowed himself a low growl, hungry and impatient. Stiles's whole body shivered at the sound, his pupils blowing before he nosed at the base of Derek's cock, his breath a bare tease for an infuriating millisecond before Stiles took him in in one go, pulling at Derek's hips to start fucking into his mouth.
Derek hissed, reaching down and fisting his hand in Stiles's hair, watching the water run over his hand and into Stiles's hair, spraying down softly into diamond-like droplets over Stiles's back, one slowly making its way over the line of his spine. Stiles moaned around him, sending vibrations up his spine and forcing his hips faster. Watching Stiles's eyelashes flutter shut against his cheeks, his throat working around Derek as he swallowed and licked and sucked him down, made Derek's wolf on edge with possessiveness, to the point where he wanted nothing more than to take and mark and scent and leave Stiles shaking and useless and ruined for everyone else. Stiles hollowed his cheeks, his eyes opening again as he slowly pulled off of Derek's cock, his eyes smouldering with a steady, unimaginable heat as his lips swelled obscenely, red and hot, over the head of Derek's cock. Stiles's hand closed around him again, his lips sealing around the head, sucking in rhythmic little pulses that had Derek going insane, arching and yelling and losing it as Stiles drank him down, pulling off before the end and letting him come over his skin, marking himself with the scent of sex and Derek in a way that would last for days.
Derek slid down the shower wall, panting as he pulled Stiles to him and licked up the mess, letting Stiles take soft, airy kisses over and over to take back the taste of him. "You're going to kill me. You know that, right?"
Stiles snickered, biting down on his lower lip and groaning as Derek fisted him.
"Get over here," Derek demanded, biting his way into Stiles's mouth. Derek was ruthless with the kiss, hard and demanding; letting himself take and ruin. "Talk to me…" Derek begged, panting between their violent kisses, "t-tell me...what you like best."
Derek squeezed on an upstroke, grazing his thumbnail over Stiles's slit, and all Stiles could manage was a high moan, almost a whine. Derek sucked his lower lip into his mouth and bit down lightly, growling in his demand, "I...fuck...I love it when you fuck me...so hard I-I can feel it for days. You come in me and I'm so sloppy, but I know I could work you up again, could ride you again and make you come even more, you could fill me up and leave me for hours and I'd still be wet with you when you come back." Stiles shuddered, and Derek reached down with his other hand, pressing the pad of his thumb against Stiles's entrance, "I love it when you open me up with your tongue...your eyes will flash red and it drives me insane because I did that to you…" Stiles gasped out the words into Derek's collarbone, his hand pulling at Derek's hair as Derek brought him closer and closer, "you let your wolf slip a little, and I know you're always...al-always in control...but it's so fucking hot to think I could...I could make you lose control even a little." Derek's hand cupped the back of his head, tipping him backwards against the length of his arm and laying him down on the marble tile of the shower stall, his legs splayed wantonly as Derek slowly worked his fingers inside, Stiles still slick with lube and come from the garage floor. Stiles stared up at him, his mouth open and panting, and Derek couldn't help but love it; Stiles was always so willing, even with a thousand things to do and more important things to think of, Stiles couldn't help himself, and it drove Derek wild, it really did.
Derek brought Stiles's hips up off the tile with one arm, licking between his fingers and letting a growl roll out of his chest, devouring the way Stiles's hips made an aborted buck back for more, his fingers turning white scrabbling against the tiles as he cried out in arousal so acute Derek would've thought it was pain if he couldn't smell exactly what Stiles was feeling. Derek turned him inside out, until Stiles's muscles were Jell-O, tears caught on his eyelashes and his voice rough from screaming it out, whimpering as Derek licked him clean in long, hot strokes of his tongue.
"I think you broke me."
Derek smiled, all teeth and predator, "Good. Now you can call Ian." He purred, kissing Stiles's eyelashes before devouring his mouth.
Stiles let out a surprised whimper into the kiss, groaning as Derek sucked on his tongue, "You possessive bastard." He ground out, more than happy to let Derek pick him up against his chest, curling into the warmth of him. Derek washed them clean, picking him up and carrying him into the bedroom as Stiles dozed against his shoulder, taking careful and efficient care of him.
Derek knelt beside the bed where Stiles slumped against the pillows, his damp skin turning cold, "Scott isn't here yet…"
"Mmm, Lydia made a pack rule...if they're coming to see us, they take the thirty-minute scenic route, get coffee and pastry, and check in with the rest of the pack first. It was a joke, but I think they're actually following that rule more than they are the call-in-if-there's-a-problem rule." Stiles sighed, sounding on the verge of sleep, "Give him another five minutes, then call."
Derek pet through Stiles's wet hair, "Do you want me to let you sleep?"
"'M not entirely sure I have a brain anymore. You may've fucked it out of me." He sighed, nuzzling into Derek's palm, "But I do have to come downstairs and try."
Derek pecked his lips, nipping the tip of his nose as he went and took out clothes for them both, listening as Stiles convinced his body that getting up and doing things was a good idea. Stiles whimpered as he stood up, biting his lower lip and letting Derek coax him into his arms, pressing his cold skin against Derek's warmth and shivering lightly into his embrace, "I hurt you?"
Stiles shook his head, "Not a bad-pain. Definitely not a bad-pain. Almost not even a pain." Stiles told him, reaching up for a kiss, "I think I'm putting on muscle mass, though. Extremely athletic marathon sex is going to have me becoming the hot teacher."
"You already are the hot teacher."
Stiles grinned cheekily, kissing him soft and fast, "Flatterer."
"Hey-you know as well as I do that's how you got me. The first time 'round, anyway." Derek teased, kissing his throat and scenting him just to enjoy how deeply imprinted his scent was with Stiles's.
"That's a total abuse of my power, and I hope that never happens again, because I'd die. Also, you'd growl and scare the children." Derek chuckled, kissing his cheek and thrusting his clothes into his arms, "Honestly, I didn't mean for that to happen. I didn't know what would happen, exactly, with the whole mates thing, but I didn't mean for you to fall for me back then; I was aiming for friendship and expecting screaming terror and to be run out of town for being a creeper." Derek tsked, kissing him silent and then kissing him more, for good measure.
"That was my initial reaction, but then you made me your slave for extra credit, I couldn't resist."
"My god, don't say it like that, it makes it sound so sordid!"
Derek laughed all the way downstairs.
Scott brought coffee and cinnamon buns-Stiles threw a smirk at Derek-and Stiles put a call through to Ireland, smiling at Ian's accent and half-wishing Derek would have an awesome accent. Derek looks at him with a certain, fond light in his eyes, though, and Stiles wouldn't trade that in for anything. "Have fun on the hunt, Ian. Do me a favour and don't get killed, you're useful." Stiles grinned as Ian snickered, and they hung up finally. "So, we have someone who died a violent death in the woods, whose death has never been brought to light, and who has a strong enough predilection for wrath to have managed to break their way through the wards, though not strong enough to get out from the woods-yet. Anyone else thinking Argent?"
"Kate Argent?...I guess." Derek mumbled, looking almost catatonically blank, "She didn't die alone, though." Stiles reached for him, apology written all over his face, but Derek shook his head at it, letting Stiles hug him.
"She was in the fire, right?" Scott confirmed, looking sad for Derek as well.
Derek nodded, "She and a four-man team set the fire...She went in as a distraction, but she got caught in the blaze."
Stiles wove his fingers through Derek's hair, tugging lightly and soothingly, bringing him out of the memory, "To her, though, it would've been alone. She was the only monster there."
The barely restrained rage in Stiles's voice made Derek snap out fully, his eyes more green than grey as they focussed on his lover and felt thankfulness settle in his bones. He hated nothing more than he hated being hunted, and Stiles, more than anyone, never made him feel as though he was a monster or a creature to be loathed. Stiles looked at him like he was a dream, touched him like he'd disappear if he took it for granted. Sometimes, Derek wondered what Stiles's life was like in that world Derek had died in; how Stiles had managed to change so much with nothing more than an easy friendship in high school, a guiding hand and stories to depend on and be led by. Stiles would have been invaluable as a storyteller; as a wise one and a guide. Derek shot him a grateful look, completely aware of how Scott still didn't understand how it felt for one of his own pack to feel that what they were were monsters. Stiles, though, had gotten it from the get-go, and he'd never, ever treated Derek like anything less than a man. Stiles and his hand joined under the table without either of them really meaning it to happen, a point of connection and strength that had lasted them through a lot.
"It doesn't matter anyway, who it is. The problem we have is with the wards. Ian said that the spell should've been strong enough to keep it at bay, and if there's something that's slipped through, there's a crack in the foundations, and we need to get it sealed yesterday. "
Derek and Scott agreed to calling the rest of the pack once they were all off work in order to go for a run, to look for anywhere the spell-pertinent trees had been injured in pairs. Stiles sketched out the map as Scott was trying to work up the nerve to pull the conversation around to probably something Allison-related, "We're thinking of things to name the baby…"
Stiles paused, "You know what name I'm kiboshing."
"Stiles, you should have some say in this, you're my brother! I want...I want you to be godfather. I want my kid to be named after family."
"I'll be godfather, but you are not naming a child after me. I don't care, no." Stiles told him immediately, sliding closer to Derek and resting against his shoulder, bone-tired now, "Eri is a good name."
"Eri?" Derek asked quietly.
"Means 'protector'," Stiles sighed quietly, "It's meant to be a male name, but it could be short for Erin if you guys have a girl."
Derek's hand came up to cradle Stiles's head, and Stiles knew he was checking for a temperature only because Derek had done that move before and had known he was getting a fever before he had, "Tired?" He asked on a breath, and Stiles nodded, slumping against his shoulder, "Scott-"
"Need help?" Scott got to his feet, but Derek just shook his head, hooking his leg under Stiles's knees and carrying him bridal-style, smiling at Stiles's indistinct, grumbled protests. He laid Stiles down and kissed him softly, murmuring that they'd be back, just rest.
Stiles was up and at work as soon as the werewolves would be out of earshot, gathering what he'd need in order to become the boy that swallowed the fire.
"It's dangerous to take a demon inside you, Stiles," Ian had told him as they'd breathlessly gotten ready for Ian to do the very thing he was about to, for Ian's half-fairy blood to win out against the fire-spirit that would eat them whole, "swallowing the fire means that you're doing just that. Without a monster inside you to beat it, it could win; it could infect itself into the very fabric of who you are."
Stiles looked up at himself in the mirror Lydia had put up by the door. He looked at the pale skin and the brown eyes and the skeletal features. He looked at a past of fighting for a spark of joy in the middle of a barren wasteland of ashen pain. He'd been swallowing that flame since he realized every ounce of good in his life came with a gallon of bad. He'd always believed there was a monster in every man, just under the surface. It was time to see just what his monster could do; just how determined it was to survive. "It's the only way to get rid of it, and it will only hunt you and your dad and Derek if you don't, killing anyone else it happens upon." He told his reflection. Even if it wasn't Kate Argent, the same would be true. Magical creatures gravitated to magical creatures, and he'd been a target in Ireland simply because he had the lingering magic of both leprechauns and werewolves around him. The Will o' the Wisps wanted lost souls; and there was no greater a lost soul than a mere mortal among the superhuman. At least, in the eyes of the superhuman, there was no greater a lost soul.
He turned and dashed out the door before he could see his reflection's twisted smile and flashing eyes.
Stiles puts a call out to Deaton from the Jeep, "Magic can be done by anyone." Stiles starts, and Deaton affirms slowly, suspicious, "Music is a form of magic." Most potent with sirens, fairies, and ghosts, because they were the most sensitive to the way the world around them "vibrated". Deaton confirmed this, too, and Stiles could almost hear him getting his back up. "And if anything happens to me, you're going to take care of my pack." This wasn't a request or a question. Stiles hung up before Deaton could start yelling, before he could do much of anything, and Stiles sighed at nothing.
His phone lit up not even a minute later with Derek's number, but Stiles had already tossed it in the copse Derek liked to leave his clothes in when he was shifting, getting in the Jeep and tearing his way south, headed for the old barn on the edge of town and forest limits that wouldn't be mourned if it ended up working that he could summon the Will o' the Wisp there. Stiles took a deep breath, and started to sing as he set out his circle, feeling the pull of that even more than he'd felt the pull of his belief, letting him know that the power was there, and he'd be tapping into it. Stiles took his place in the circle he'd seen Ian draw to summon the Will o' the Wisps out of the forest that March Break he'd been kidnapped to Ireland. Stiles took a deep breath, steeling himself, "My name is Stiles Stilinski; I am the human mate of the last of the Hale line. My father is Caleb; my mother was Dorothea. My family does not lie in blood. My family lies in love. My brothers are Scott, Isaac, Boyd, Danny, and Jackson; my sisters are Allison, Erica, and Lydia. I am the mate and equal of the wolf; I am the human and heart of the pack. We are all family."
Secure in the knowledge that he knew who he was, Stiles dropped the handful of dust that would complete his spell and bring the fire to him.
"I am the boy that runs with wolves, and I choose to swallow the fire!" Stiles bellowed as the barn exploded in light and heat and sound. Stiles felt like he should have been thrown backwards in the blast, but he stood tall, defiant, and thinking, Fuck, this is going to hurt.
Derek hadn't stopped swearing the entire time he was running for the old barn on the outskirts of town. Scott knew this because he was still swearing by the time Scott caught up to him, standing with wide, horrified eyes as the barn blazed easily high enough to be seen from town. There was a blue Jeep that Derek knew inside and out sitting to their left as they stared at the blaze, listening breathlessly as a voice in the flames sang.
Derek grabbed his arm, pulling them both back as a crack was heard and the building began to collapse inwards, the heat burning Derek's skin he was still standing so close, the burn healing even as it reddened the skin. Jackson, Boyd, Erica, and Isaac emerged from the woods, and Danny, Lydia and Allison would be pulling up soon.
The pack stood there frozen, watching as a shadow moved in the flame, and Stiles slowly walked out, the flames extinguishing on his skin as he emerged from the belly of the fire. Slowly, he stopped singing, standing there with jet black eyes ringed in flame and skin that glowed like an ember, "My name is Stiles Stilinski," Stiles's back arched in pain as flame shot forth from his palms, "I am the human mate of the last of the Hale line." The words were choking him; Scott, Boyd, and Jackson grabbed Derek, holding him back from running as Stiles's features flickered between human and living fire, "My father is Caleb; my mother was Dorothea." Stiles fell to his knees, arching and writhing to his hands and knees before he forced his head up, his gaze on them with desperation, "My family does not lie in blood. My family lies in love." Allison ran for them, dropping to her knees beside Derek and hugging him tight, unafraid and part of his pack; the first to bear the next generation of it, and he couldn't hurt her, even if it meant getting to Stiles, "My brothers are Scott, Isaac, Boyd, Danny, and Jackson," Stiles breathed, one flaming fist curled in the cooking earth beneath him, the other nearly tearing at his chest, "my sisters are Allison, Erica, and Lydia." Lydia took Derek's left hand, and his claws retracted rather than damage her skin, "I am the mate and equal of the wolf; I am the human and heart of the pack." Stiles's body seized, and he was vomiting liquid fire.
"We are all family!" Danny yelled as if it were a reply to this madness, and Stiles gave one last jerk before collapsing into the grass, steam and smoke rising from him.
Derek had lost everything to fire. It shouldn't have surprised him that he'd lose this, too.
A howl snapped through Derek's body, arching his back and throwing his head to the sky as he emerged from his pack and ran for his mate, his training a soothing mantra in the back of his mind. Howls joined his, shaking the world around them with worry and grief.
Something niggled at Derek, some story Danny and Stiles had shared in the telling; Danny from a text and Stiles from having lived to see it, "The trick with fire is to not be afraid of it." Stiles had said, "There are all kinds of things that we can't beat if we give in to the fear of them, but proving we don't fear them, having something to hold onto, that's what drives things like fire-spirits away." Derek scooped Stiles into his arms, and bleary brown eyes flickered open as he carried him away from the flames. "Scare my like that again-"
"'N' you'll rip my throat out with your teeth." Stiles's smile was tiny and teasing, his voice a dry rasp, and Derek couldn't stop himself from hefting Stiles up in his arms, kissing his lips as he laughed and cried with relief, sprinting back to the others with Stiles cradled in his arms.
"You are an idiot!" Lydia screeched, smacking Stiles in the mouth hard.
Allison was laughing and crying, "We need to get out of here." She muttered breathlessly, her eyes sweeping over the forest around them, "Well, no: you two need to get out of here. Marcus and the boys'll be here soon."
"You're going to run, aren't-Of course you are." Stiles grumbled as Derek turned for the forest and ran for it, carrying him easily.
"You are not allowed to complain. I just watched you burning alive." Derek choked out the words, choking on them more than he'd thought he would, "Do that to me again-"
"Throat, teeth. Got it." Stiles snickered, "'F it makes you feel any better, swallowing a fire demon's given me a wicked case of heartburn."
"No, the shittier side of your sense of humour does not make me feel any better."
"Liar."
Derek got Stiles a glass of water, pain killers, and heartburn medication they usually kept for the sheriff, curling up under him on the couch. "What the fuck were you thinking?" he asked eventually, Stiles wrapped thoroughly in his arms.
"It was the only way to get rid of it. Even with closing the wards, it'd still slipped through, and it would've been closed in, not out."
"So you decided that swallowing fire was a good idea to do by yourself without letting me or anyone else know what was going to happen?!"
"Danny knew what would happen. So did Deaton. I figured I would be the best bet for beating it. I know who I am and where I fit, and I have something to hold onto. You and the wolves couldn't do it, because the fire would try to control you through the increased anger. Danny and Lydia don't have a defined place in the pack, just as humans of the pack. Allison's not only angry, she's pregnant, and I don't know what would've happened if she'd even tried while having a baby in her. I know where I fit; I can't get pregnant unless there's a discussion we need to have about magical werewolf sperm, and there was enough monster in me to fight the fire off."
"What do you mean, monster?"
"There's a monster in every man, Derek. The drive to fight for what we want, what we love. The will to kill for what we want; what we need. I had to fight for you. I've been fighting for you for years. And I had to fight for our family." Stiles wrapped his fingers around Derek's, "It let me keep who I was."
"How's your heart?" Derek managed after a moment.
Stiles took his hand, coaxing it flat and laying it against his reedy chest, over his pulse. "It's doing better. Being with you helps."
Derek kissed the tip of his ear, hugging him tight against his chest, "This payback?"
"Now why would I do that?" Stiles teased, grinning as Derek rumbled beneath him. "No. I realized when I talked to Ian that I'd seen this before, while I was in Ireland. It'd kind of taken a backseat to the whole leprechaun thing and being kidnapped to become queen of the fairies, and he'd made it look kind of easy."
"How the hell would he have done that?" Derek demanded, thoroughly unhappy and the state only exasperated by it having been Ian, because he still thought Stiles had been attracted to the crazy Irishman.
"The fairy blood. It made him strong, gave him balance. Fairies aren't angry creatures, hence the partying before and after every battle." Stiles grinned, eyes closed, "But, all things considered, I think that was kind of easy." Stiles yawned.
That night, Lydia could be heard shrilling incoherently from the forest as the wolves ran.
Stiles had shown her a new trick: blowing on a candle wick to light it.
A/N: Dedicated to the awesome NimayTheAirbender, for reading so damn much of my stuff and for never failing to make me feel good about having kept at it.
Hope you've enjoyed, my freaky darlings.