Derek and Stiles have a weird relationship. Stiles is scared most of the time when he's around Derek.
There was always a special tension in the room whenever Derek was around. He was a little intimidating but that came with the territory. After all, the guy was a werewolf. He could rip your throat out in seconds and also possibly make sure that your body would never be found.
The only problem was that Stiles wanted to hang out with him. There were no real reason for this. Not anything that he would admit to anyway. Not even to himself. Derek with his broody look and his almost total lack of social skills was really not that easy to be around.
Being accepted among the werewolves was rather exciting but it was kind of scary also. Stiles had a constant fear that one day, one or more of them would turn on him and attack. Scott would probably not be able to save him if that happened.
If that day came, he hoped that he'd be mauled by an alfa. Stiles had no desire to become a werewolf, but being dead didn't have much appeal either. All things considered, being one of them would make it all easier. Although he was really content with being human.
He knew that Derek tried to look out for him, and it was nice to know. Derek was clear about how difficult it could be. He'd often warned Stiles about being too outspoken or enter into situations that could injure or even kill him. Stiles found it kind of cute that he was so protective, but didn't really know if he could trust him one hundred percent.
The weird and sometimes puzzling relationship Stiles had with Derek had taught him that the guy could be a little erratic from time to time. Sometimes, Derek did his best to scare the crap out of Stiles. With his sinister look and brute force Derek had many times made Stiles see his life flash before his eyes in confrontations with the guy. And yet, deep down in Derek's eyes, Stiles could see care and concern.
Knowing that Derek cared for him in some odd and freaked out way was somewhat comforting. At the same time, it was disturbing because most of the time Stiles was still terrified by the guy.
These conflicting feelings reached their peek every time Derek needed Stiles' help. He would never just ask nicely. He was always demanding, and it didn't seem like he expected Stiles to refuse. Of course Stiles tried, but deep down he knew that there was nothing he could do. Throwing out a witty remark in a futile attempt to sound tough didn't cut it.
Stiles thought back in horror of that night when Derek asked him to cut his arm off. Scrub that. He didn't ask, he demanded. Wrong again. With actual death threats he forced Stiles to lower that saw onto the arm.
The fact that Scott came in and saved the day – or night – didn't prevent Stiles from having nightmares about it long after.
-o-o-o-
A tap on his window made Stiles moan in irritation. He was tired and didn't want anything to interrupt his sleep. Another tap woke him up completely, and with confusion he stared at the window. It was still dark outside and the nightlight by his bedside distorted the view. He could only see the reflection of the lamp and a blurred imaged of his own face in the pane of the window.
The next sound wasn't a gentle tap. An image of a hand clenched into a fist banging on the window appeared from the outside. Seconds later it was gone, and his own startled face stared back at him.
Stiles turned the light off and rolled out of bed before he hesitantly padded across the room. It was pitch black out there. It was like the world was gone and he was staring into a black hole. Normally, there would be some kind of light source out there to give some visibility, but not now. Stiles guessed that the nearest street light must have broke or something. He knew it should have been a half moon on the sky but the forecast had said it would be a cloudy night.
With his face close to the pane, he tried to get his eyes used to the darkness and see who was out there. He figured it could be Scott, but that would be weird. Scott would always text him before he came knocking.
Suddenly, a bloody hand was splayed out on the outside of the pane. Stiles hurried to unlatch the clasp of the window and pushed it open. He didn't know what to expect, but whoever was out there was in some serious trouble.
Seconds later Stiles was on his back when a big ball of black and red hit him as Derek practically dived in through the opening. "I need help," the guy gasped out the moment he landed on the floor next to Stiles.
From his position, Stiles reached out to turn on the lamp again, and what he saw when he was done blinking from the sudden light was disturbing.
Derek's clothes were ripped and torn and blood was seeping out from several cuts on his body. He was shaking and it looked like he was about to pass out. Stiles crawled backwards and looked at Derek in horror. "Heal thyself!" he uttered, knowing that it was probably the lamest thing to say right now. Okay, maybe not the lamest thing, but surely among the top ten.
Derek dug his nail into the carpet and whimpered like a sick puppy. Stiles almost laughed at his own comparison, but he braced himself. "What can I do? What happened?" He moved a little closer and looked at the scratch on Derek's hand. "Why aren't you healing."
Derek closed his eyes, and for a moment, Stiles worried that he would actually pass out. "Wolfsbane." the word came out as a huff. "I need to rinse it off." Derek rolled over on his back and hitched his breath. "Fast."
Stiles didn't know where he got the strength from, but he managed to haul Derek out of his room, through the hall, and into the bathroom. He was happy that his father was working the night shift because this would have been hard to explain.
With Derek spread out on the tiled floor, Stiles tiptoed a little nervously around him. He should probably try to get his clothes off, but since Derek was floating in and out of consciousness, he couldn't expect his help.
He looked at the shower and gave it a thought before he made his decision. Stiles turned the water on, and when it had a comfortable temperature, he dragged the almost lifeless body into the shower. Stiles himself got drenched in the process, but he didn't care.
He pulled the shower-head off its clasp and started to systematically run it over Derek's body. Every wound that he could see through the rips in his clothes got cleaned up. A few flower petals floated on the water that was running towards the drain. Stiles picked them up and threw them in the toilet. He made sure to flush them before he continued on his task.
It didn't take long before Derek started to wake up. Stiles was leaning over him – water dripping from his face – while he with his fingers tried to wash out the gash on the guy's leg. As he was watching the wound started to close by itself and before he knew it there wasn't even a visible scar.
Stiles was about to move away when Derek grabbed his wrist. "Thank you. I owe you." He let his hand fall down again, and with a huff, he moved away from the streaming water. Stiles got up and turned it off before he put the shower head back.
Derek's jacket was probably ruined. His shoes could obviously not be saved either. Stiles realized that he could have done this in a little different manner. He could at least have tried to get that leather jacket off.
Standing in the middle of the floor looking down at a soaking wet Derek, he started laughing uncontrollably. He knew it was because he was nervous. This situation was not particularly comfortable.
Derek cocked his brow and looked at him curiously. "Are you crazy? This is not funny." Scrambling to his feet, he threw a peek over his shoulder that made Stiles laughter stop short in his throat. There was a flash of red in those eyes that made Stiles' heart skip a beat or two.
"I didn't mean to. Sorry. I'm nervous. You owe me. Please don't kill me. I'm a good guy. I helped you. I didn't need to. Please." Stiles could hear his own voice reach an uncomfortable high pitch. He tried to compose himself somewhat as he walked backwards to get away from Derek. He took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. "I did what you asked. Now you can go on your merry way and leave me alone." He exited and ran down the hall to his room where he dived into bed and huddled under the covers.
He expected Derek to follow him, but for several minutes nothing happened. Stiles sighed and peeked at the door. The quietness was very disturbing. Derek had been drenched to the bone, and it would be very uncomfortable for him to go out in the chilly night soaking wet. If Derek was back to his full powers he could get home quickly so it was still a possibility that he'd left already. Stiles felt sightly disappointed. The guy could at least have showed some gratitude.
Under the blanket, Stiles suddenly realized that he too was soaked. He gave it another couple of minutes before he rolled himself out of bed and hurried towards his closet. He was on alert as he pulled out new linens, and when he moved towards the bed again, he could see the doorknob turning.
"I'm gonna scream!" Stiles tried to find something to defend himself with, but Derek was back to his old self. The second the door opened, he moved across the room in a flash and grabbed Stiles by his throat. "You're not. And don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you." He held on and it was somewhat difficult to breathe. "Okay." Stiles croaked out. "Promise?"
Derek let go and left Stiles heaving. "You scare me. I just want to be left alone. Why are you still here?" He tried to act casual as he started to pull the wet sheet off his bed. Derek sighed and threw his hands out. "It's cold outside. I need dry clothes."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "We've been through this before. None of my clothes fit you. I don't know what to do." He's eyes grew wide when Derek started to undress in front of him. "What are you doing? I have nothing that'll fit you. There's no point."
Derek scoffed. "You have a dryer? Just..." He was only in his boxers and when he started to pull them down too Stiles jumped in front of him. "Sure, sure, but please." He forced the clean sheet into Derek's arms. "If you're gonna undress completely, at least cover yourself up."
When Stiles was in the laundry room tucking the clothes into the dryer, he couldn't help himself thinking about the fact that Derek was naked in his room. So okay, he was wrapped in a sheet, but he had no clothes on. Stiles got scared by his own reaction to this. The little twitch of his cock inside his still damp pajama pants almost made him squirm.
While doing his best to force away the image in his head, he undressed and threw his own clothes in too. In a basket with clean clothes, he found a pair of boxer-shorts and pulled them on before he reluctantly went back to his room.
Derek was sitting on the bed with his back leaning against the headboard. He looked comfortable and Stiles could almost see a smile tugging his lips. He had to blink to make sure that he didn't just imagine it. Derek didn't smile very often. The only facial expression he had that could remotely resemble a smile was when he curled his lips into a sneer. This time it actually looked like a smile.
Getting in bed now was out of the question. Stiles padded over to the desk and turned on the computer. He needed a distraction. "Will you tell me what happened." He turned to Derek as he waited for the computer to boot.
The bedside lamp didn't provide much light, but Stiles could have sworn that Derek blushed when he got the question. "Did you get in a fight or something? Those wounds... it looked like a big cat had played with you. They were all over the place."
Derek looked away, and now, there wasn't a hint of doubt anymore. The guy was actually blushing. Stiles had been curious the moment Derek fell through his window, but now the curiosity reach a new peek. "Oh, please tell me. I helped you. I saved your life. You almost choked me. Hey! And you owe me."
Knowing that it didn't matter how far away from Derek he was – the guy could get to him in a second anyway – he still felt more comfortable on the other side of the room. Derek turned to him slowly. "Come here then." He patted the mattress and gestured for Stiles to sit down. Stiles hesitated. "Why? You scare me. Why would I want to sit that close to you?"
A lopsided smile appeared for a split second before Derek sighed. "If you wanna know." He patted the mattress again. "I'm not gonna... You're safe. It's okay." Stiles noticed that Derek didn't really promise that he wouldn't hurt him, but still he crossed the floor and sat down on the other edge of the bed. "Okay. I'm here. Spill." He turned a little so that he could see Derek, but he didn't move any closer.
Derek rubbed his forehead and scoffed a little. "I was sitting on a rooftop over there." He gestured towards the window. "I was contemplating on paying you a visit." Now he stared directly at Stiles as he was waiting for some kind of response. When Stiles just widened his eyes in surprise, Derek continued. "I don't know why."
Several minutes of silence followed, and Stiles furrowed his brows. Something was off. He couldn't think of any reason why Derek wanted to come here. "Unless..." Stiles thought and felt a shiver down his spine. Not knowing what would be the best thing to do at the moment, his brain suddenly detached itself from the rest of his body and he crawled further onto the bed and sat next to Derek. "You don't know why? That's just a bunch of crap."
Derek looked away again and let his eyes pan the room. "How long till my clothes are dry?" His tongue darted out of his mouth and ran over his lips. Stiles almost choked. "That was deliberate." He thought as he looked down to see if the reaction was visible. It was not. The boxer-shorts were a little oversized, and they were bunched up over the crotch.
"Don't even try. You were gonna tell me what happened. Don't get me sidetracked." He gave Derek a gently nudge on the shoulder thinking it might encourage him to keep going.
"I slipped. The roof was wet." Derek was now staring into the ceiling and Stiles could almost feel the heat from the bright red face next to him. "So you slipped, big deal. But the wounds?" Stiles wished that there could have been a little scar he could have traced with his finger. The urge to touch Derek was overwhelming, extremely scary and disturbing.
"One of your neighbors has a very messy yard." Derek lifted his hands to his face and covered his eyes. "Who the hell keeps car parts and barbed wire piled up behind their house?" He used the heels of his hands to rub his eyes hard. "And then they let wolfsbane grow wild between it all."
Stiles could see the scenario in his head, and before he could stop himself, he busted out laughing. It didn't take more than a split second before Derek's hand covered his mouth. "Stop now or I will break my promise to not hurt you."
It would only take a little twist of Derek's hand to actually break Stiles' neck. His mouth, with teeth – not so much wolf's teeth at the moment but that could change quickly – was inches away from Stiles' neck. Needless to say, the urge to laugh was gone as quickly as it had appeared. The slight arousal Stiles had felt sitting next to Derek was not gone, though. On the contrary. Stiles eyes rolled back in his head as his cock got fully erect in an instant.
Derek didn't notice. His eyes were fixed on Stiles' and he was clearly oblivious to what went on in the lower regions. When Derek moved his hand from Stiles' mouth giving him a threatening look, Stiles hitched his breath and closed his eyes. "Mm, I wonder? Why would you want to visit me?" He managed to keep his voice somewhat steady even if his inside felt like a trembling mess.
Nothing could have prepared Stiles for what happened next. He knew it would have been possible to expect it, but it still came as lightning from a clear blue sky. Within a second, Stiles was on his back with Derek hovering over him. The next second he had a pair of lips on his and Derek's tongue working to get an invite to enter Stiles' mouth.
