Title: Care For
Category: Teen Wolf
Ship: Derek/Stiles
Genre: General/Pre-Slash
Rated: T
Word Count: 1216
Summary: Derek has checked in on the rest of his pack, there's one left. Set after episode 2.08.
A/N: A birthday present for the wonderful and talented Ali , who kindly holds my hand when I start flailing over Sterek.
As always thanks to my beautiful beta Crystal, any mistakes are my own.
… … …
It's late into the night or maybe early into the morning, he guessed it depends on how you look at it when he finds himself slipping into the Stilinski household, pausing for a moment on the window sill of Stiles bedroom. Breathing in deep he cocks his head as he listens. One heartbeat slow and steady downstairs, the kitchen, the Sheriff more than likely passed out at the dinner table if the smell of whiskey in the air is anything to go by. Another heartbeat louder and slightly faster in the room with him, awake but not scared like other times when he's broken in.
"You know you make the dog jokes easy when you tilt your head like that," he gets instead of a greeting.
It's a testament to his tiredness that he doesn't growl at the teenager. His eyes simply flash red for a moment but not enough to even spook the kid. Instead he drops at Stiles desk chair, the only light on in the room is the lamp next to the computer giving the rest of the room a soft glow as shadows bounce around them.
"Scott is okay," he says after a moment of unusual silence between them, it's so rare that Stiles isn't running his mouth, he would have thought he would welcome it, instead of breaking it.
"I know," he gets in return from the bed where Stiles hasn't moved other than to look in his direction, another first since this is the most at ease he's ever felt Stiles be in his presence, maybe it just goes to show how tired he is too. "Thanks for taking care of him."
He starts and wonders if there will be a day when the human before him will stop surprising him. "He's pack now," he gets out. "It's my job to care for him."
Stiles lets out a huff of laughter, another surprise. "You're going to be busy then, taking care of Scott is a 24/7 kind of job, good luck with that."
He presses his lips into a thin line to hide the small smile that threatens to break through but allows the momentary camaraderie to continue. "It's your job too, we can break into shifts."
"Can I get weekends off?" Stiles continues and Derek can hear the smile in the words. "Paid vacations?"
"Do you have a union?" he asks dryly.
"International Association of Werewolf Wranglers," Stiles proclaims trailing off when he lets out a small growl in warning. "Too much?"
"When isn't it too much with you, Stiles?" he asks, frowning when instead of a laugh or a comeback, the room once again fills with silence, the air smelling like remorse.
"I'm sure you're not the only one that feels that way tonight," Stiles answers so quietly that if it wasn't for his enhanced hearing he wouldn't have been able to make it out.
"Stiles?" he questions, his fist clenching at the hopelessness in the teenager's voice and the way it causes the wolf inside him to move restlessly. When he decided to check in with Stiles tonight it had been his wolf that had pushed him forward.
After securing Scott, he'd gone to find the rest of his pack. Boyd had been shot, Isaac and Erica along with Stiles had dealt with Jackson and he needed to make sure they were okay. Arriving at their hideout he'd found his three wolves resting and well, all healed up already. The question must have shown on his face because Isaac had simply answered. "Stiles took care of us before he went home."
And that, the knowledge that the boy in front of him now had taken the time to make sure the others were okay had made him seek him out, the last member of his pack and obviously the one that wasn't okay.
"They fired my dad and it's my fault," Stiles finally answers and it's so full of self-reproach and self-loathing that it has him moving before he even realizes it. Crossing the room; he sits at Stiles side on the bed, his hands on either side of him.
"Don't," he says sternly, not even sure what he's commanding, he just knows he doesn't want to hear that tone in Stiles voice, doesn't want to smell the guilt in the room.
Stiles looks up at him with wide eyes, his heart speeding up just a bit, a slight hint of fear permeating the air, still he pushes on. "It is though."
"It's not."
"It doesn't look good when the sheriff's son is a criminal who steals police property and has a restraining order against him," Stiles answers with a bitter smile, like he's remembering a past conversation.
"You're helping keep people safe."
Stiles shakes his head. "Most people wouldn't agree with you."
"Most people are idiots," he answers bluntly, moving back as Stiles sits up. "You helped us tonight."
Stiles lets out a sound of frustration, running a hand over his face. "It didn't work, Jackson and whoever is controlling him, we didn't catch them."
"Not because of you and your magic dirt," he says the flash of a smile on his lips when Stiles snorts. "That worked."
"That was kinda awesome," Stiles concedes grinning.
"You took care of the pack tonight," he continues, the words coming easier than he would have thought. "Fixed them up when they got hurt- thank you."
Stiles looks at him with an unreadable expression and then shrugs as he looks away, the caution in his words clear. "It's what we do right?"
Derek doesn't answer, instead he looks at the boy in front of him, his head to the side exposing his neck to him without realizing what it could mean to him as the Alpha and in that moment he realizes how close they are since Stiles sat up on the bed. Facing each other, their thighs pressed against the other, there isn't much space between them. "Yeah," he says softly reaching out with the hand he still has on the bed, his fingers brushing against the hand Stiles has at his side, studying him when he looks back at him surprised. "I guess it is."
Stiles opens his mouth and then closes it again, licking his lips, eyes blown wide as he takes him in tracking the movement. "W-why are you here Derek?"
Stiles heart skyrockets for him to hear. "Taking care of my pack."
It skips.
"Am I pack?"
"Yes," he answers, pushing Stiles back on the bed as he stands, his hands lingering for a moment before he forces himself to take a step back towards the window. "You're pack." He ignores the wolf when it whines in his head 'More'.
He has a leg out the window when Stiles calls out his name.
"Something just happened here."
He should deny it, ignore it, if he doesn't give voice to it, it won't matter, but he can feel Stiles tension and hesitation hitting him in the back, ready for rejection. "Yes."
The breath Stiles lets out is audible; the tentative hopefulness in the air causes his wolf to hum with satisfaction.
"When we've both gotten some rest we'll continue this," Stiles says through a yawn.
The wolf grumbles happily and he allows himself a smile. "Okay."