Too many gameplays of "The Last of Us" resulted in this fic being made. Characters may be a little/lot OOC. I am sorry. It just happens.
Full Summary
"I'm not looking after this snowflake."
"Derek, come on. All you have to do is get him to Area 7, give him to Deucalion and then we get enough rations to last the pack two whole months. We won't survive the winter otherwise."
Or the one where...
An infection was released by the hunters to eradicate werewolves forever, unfortunately things backfired and the infection mutated to target humans too. Now the world's a barren, war-torn wasteland of horrifying monsters and Stiles Stilinski, a boy infected might just be the cure. Derek doesn't think so.
Chapter 1
"I'm not looking after this snowflake."
"Derek, come on. All you have to do is get him to Area 7, give him to Deucalion and then we get enough rations to last the pack two whole months. We won't survive the winter otherwise."
Four pairs of eyes looked up at him, sweet and pleading. He scowled and turned his head to face 'Snowflake'. The little brat was shorter than him, must've been around sixteen or seventeen. Short brown hair, long limbs, had on a pair of very faded blue denims and one disturbingly bright red hoodie. Currently, the boy was rifling through a stack of dirty cardboard boxes. Derek's dirty cardboard boxes.
"I told you to stand there," he pointed to a lonely corner of the room, voice sharp, "and not touch anything," he ground out between clenched teeth.
The boy looked up, glanced at the corner and then glared at him. Hazel eyes, Derek noted. Very light.
"That's an empty corner." The boy said.
"Yes."
"What the hell am I supposed to do there? It's an empty corner!"
"Nothing. That's the point," was Derek's sharp reply.
"I'm not going—"
Derek's eyes flashed red. The boy paused, fists clenched, face tight, he looked like he wanted to say more but decided against it and trudged over to the corner. Derek swore he heard the brat mumble 'sourwolf' as he passed him.
"See." The voice of his sister made him turn back around, "best friends already." Cora said. He scowled at her grinning face.
"One job Derek. That's all I'm asking for. We don't have enough food to last another winter and Erica, she needs the food more than anyone."
The sad thing was, was that Derek knew that and as much as he hated the kid, his pack always came first but why Deucalion wanted the Brat so badly was a complete mystery and it put him hard on edge. The job had come out of nowhere. Cora and he had been out hunting for food but a quick visit from Peter had ended that trip and now they were stuck with the stupid brat. The kid didn't look any special, maybe besides the fact that he'd been friends with his uncle, Peter but he was human too so unless Deucalion had developed a taste for loud-mouthed human boys then there was no reason why he'd want him. Peter had only told them to get the boy to Deucalion. Everything smelled wrong but it was getting close to winter now, game was low and their supplies were in dire need of restocking, not to mention they'd have an extra pup to feed soon. He had to do the job.
With a pointed look towards his puppy-eyed pack he gave a resigned sigh.
"Fine. We'll leave tomorrow morning. You," he pointed at Cora. "Will stay here with the pack."
"But!"
"No discussion. If this goes sour you need to be here to lead the pack."
Cora grabbed hold of his arm, face strained. "That won't happen because you'll stay safe, Derek. I mean it. We need you, "she hesitated, fingers digging into Derek's arm, hard enough to bruise. "I need my brother alive so promise me you'll be careful."
Derek put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, gentle, reassuring. "I promise. I'll be back before you know it."
She still looked worried but seemed satisfied with his response and let go of his arm. "I'm going to go check the perimeters, be back soon. The boy can sleep in one the spare rooms. Don't eat him Derek."
Derek huffed, "would taste horrible." Cora heard him mutter.
"I'll help!" Isaac shouted, bounding off in Cora's direction. Derek gave him a pointed look but Isaac grinned and ignored him, too used to Derek's 'big brother' looks by now.
The rest of the pack scattered off to leave Derek with the brat who…was not in the corner. Derek felt his patience quickly sputter and die. Fists clenched, green eyes flitted around the room in search of the hideous bright red hoodie the kid wore. Where the hell was he?
Derek closed his eyes and let his senses envelop him. Sound and smell. Hunt him out. His wolf rejoiced inside. He heard Boyd and Erica talking about the pup, Isaac and Cora were up on the roof. He shut them all out, he only wanted one, unfortunately, the smell of human in a den of wolves tended to disappear very quickly. He shut out all the noise to heighten his sense of smell. The kid had a distinct scent, reminded him of old libraries and chocolate.
His wolf purred at the scent. It was light but Derek caught it. Brat was down in the storage room. The hell was he doing there? How'd he even get there without anyone noticing? Derek opened his eyes, ice blue faded into light green and he set off in the direction of the storage room.
"If I find anything missing, brat. Your arm will act as compensation."
The kid rolled his eyes.
"I got a name, buddy." He huffed but didn't turn away from the stack of tattered books he was currently shuffling through.
"How'd you get these, I heard most books got burned after the second wave."
Derek rolled his eyes, "most books doesn't mean all."
A gasp from the kid had Derek raising his eyebrows. "Oh mann, you have comic books, like actual comic books! Ahhh, I missed these." The kid pulled out some weird, discoloured comic from the pile and plopped himself down against a broken shelf filled with random assortments of weapon pieces and tools. Without another word he started reading.
Derek stood there, disbelieving. What? He didn't even know they had comics.
He pressed two fingers to his forehead and sighed. "We're leaving tomorrow morning so you better be ready when the sun comes up."
No reply. Great. Kid wanted to be mute now. He turned around to leave but the kid spoke, making him stop.
"How come we're not going now?"
Derek sighed. For the pack, he reminded himself. For the pack.
"It's too dangerous at night. If we go in the morning all we have to worry about are humans and hunters, maybe the occasional infected. Those I can handle in the day, when the infected are weakest."
The kid scoffed, "Big bad wolf scared of the dark? I thought wolves only travelled at night and in packs?"
Derek stared hard at the kid. "Who's the idiot that told you that?" He said. "We travel whenever we have to. Wolves don't travel in large packs anymore, not unless we're hunting big game. It's too risky now." Too dangerous. He'd had to learn that the hard way.
The kid flipped through the comic while Derek watched him. Again, he wondered why Deucalion wanted him. What made him so special? What was his story? Derek scowled and tossed the thought out immediately. Deliver the kid and be done with him. No questions asked. He didn't need the extra baggage of emotions.
He turned around to go. "The moment the sun comes up, we leave. Don't be late."
"Got it. Night, Sourwolf. Don't let the infected bite."
For the pack, Derek. For the pack.
Derek threw the backpack over his shoulder. "Hurry up, Brat. We're going!"
Cora patted him on the shoulder. "Stay safe Derek and come back soon, don't want to miss the new pup do you?" She teased.
Derek smiled at her. "I will."
The kid stumbled down the steps towards the pair, bleary eyed and rubbing the sleep out of them.
Derek rolled his eyes. "I told you we'd be leaving early. I'm not slowing down for you."
He growled at the jab Cora aimed at his side, "be nice." She ground out.
The kid glared at him, mumbled something about evil sourwolves and walked over to stand next to Cora.
"So, where's the car?" He mumbled, trying to stifle a yawn.
Cora chuckled as Derek snorted. "We're walking. Cars attract too much attention."
Stile's jaw dropped open. "Do you know how far way Area 7 is!? It'd take a century to get there!"
"Well then you better start walking, brat."
"Oh my god! Stiles! Not that hard to pronounce!"
"Get walking…Squirt."
Stiles crossed his arms and huffed at him but held his tongue and started off towards the exit.
Cora smiled as Derek spoke, "he'll be the death of me you know."
She pulled Derek into a tight embrace.
"Stay safe brother." She whispered.
He held her tight. "I will."
She released him and with a parting nod Derek left, locking the steel door behind him.
Cora looked up at the pack peering around the corner. She could sense their unease, "He'll be fine guys. Don't worry." Now she just had to convince herself of that.
"I'm hungry, man."
"Shut up."
"Can we eat now? I swear my stomach's gonna chew itself up."
"Shut up, Kid. We eat at sundown so stop complaining."
"That's ages away! And it's Stiles. S-T-I-L-E-S. Do I call you names all the time, Sourwolf?" Stiles paused and winced. "Never mind, forget I said that."
Derek glared straight ahead doing his best to ignore the kid, sadly for him, the brat was proving to be impossible to mute.
The pair stopped in front of a dilapidated old building and Stiles whistled. Most of the windows were either smashed in or boarded up. Moss and ivy were devouring the sides and rust could be seen on the window sills and the doors. Plaster was peeling off the walls and there were huge gaping holes around the building.
Stiles looked at the building, then back at Derek. "We're not going in there are we?"
Derek reached for the door and heaved it open. The loud creak made Stiles wince and slap both hands over his ears. The alpha went straight in leaving Stiles outside with a pretty clear answer. Stiles' hesitated. On the one hand he could stay out here in the light by himself and potentially be viscously mauled to death by hunters, werewolves and or the infected and on the other he could go inside in the dark and potentially be viscously mauled by hunters, werewolves and or the infected, the only upside was Sourwolf in there.
"Ahh, damn it," he muttered. He ran inside only to slam face first into a solid wall.
One unmanly scream later and he was on his ass staring up at Derek's back, aka 'The Wall.'
Derek raised an eyebrow at the kid. He'd been waiting for him to come in so he could shut the door but he hadn't expected the idiot to come barrelling in like that.
"Do you always run head long into dark places?" He asked, genuinely curious as he walked the few steps back to shut the door.
Stiles stood up as the dark washed over him and brushed the dirt off himself, casually pretending that didn't just happen. He ignored the nervous twitch in his fingers at the lack of light.
"No…of course not." He mumbled, face a deep shade of red.
"Let's just go, my god, what's with all the questions!" He started off in some random direction, determined to be anywhere but here. He should've stayed outside. Take on the infected instead. Sourwolf was worse.
Derek smirked. "We're going this way, Kid, so unless you want to walk straight into a hole and break every bone in your little human body. Follow me."
Stiles did an immediate one eighty and made a beeline for Derek's retreating back.
He stayed behind Derek while taking in his surroundings, as hard as that was. The building looked even worse inside. Destroyed furniture littered the floors; lights were blown out, stinking trash in random heaps here and there. Glass shards and dislodged bricks and plaster were everywhere and there was barely enough light to see despite it being the middle of the day. It looked like a warzone here.
"Where are we?" He asked Derek's back because that was a thousand times better than speaking to his face.
"A building." Was the toneless reply.
Stiles rolled his eyes. God, Derek was such a talker. Stiles could just imagine him being the life of the party. Right.
"Obviously. I mean where are we and why are we going through here?"
Derek sighed. Why was it so hard for the kid to not talk every few seconds? The endless stream of chatter coming from the kid was driving him insane. He prayed the brat would give him a moment of peace if he answered.
"It's an apartment complex. Long abandoned after the second wave of bombings. We use this place to travel to the 10th district, bypassing the 11th and 12th at the same time."
Stiles nodded even though he knew Derek couldn't see. "So this place is safe, like a super-secret tunnel."
"No."
Stiles stumbled over a broken glass bottle, nearly falling flat on his face. "W-what do you mean. You use this building to travel, why wouldn't it be safe?"
Derek sighed. He just never stopped asking questions. Worse than Cora when she wanted something from him, he thought.
"Because, other werewolves use this building too and sometimes they're not friendly."
Silence.
Derek grinned and then added, just for good measure, "infected show up every once in a while too so you better watch your back."
A hand grabbed his shirt, surprising him so much he stopped walking and turned around.
Stiles had unconsciously grabbed the hem of Derek's shirt. His eyes were wide, darting in every direction. Derek could smell the rising fear emitting from the kid. Maybe he'd gone too far…kid looked like he was about to pass out and Derek was not going to carry the boy through the building.
Stiles felt panic worming its way throughout his veins. Breath shallow, palms sweaty, vision blurring, hearing distorted. He wasn't scared, wasn't scared.
Derek swore. Brat was going to have a panic attack. He grabbed the kid's shoulders.
"Hey, can you hear me? Snap out of it. I was kidding, alright. This building's completely safe. You'll be fine, kid."
He saw a twitch of movement to his left and pulled Stiles behind him. Great. He could never get a damn break. Eyes bleeding red he growled low in his throat. A warning to stay back.
A tawny coloured wolf stepped forward, along with two more werewolves in human form. They wore dirty brown parkas and ratty denim jeans, a far cry from Derek's own black leather jacket and Stiles too-bright red hoodie.
The cleanest looking guy stepped forward, hands held out in peace but Derek was no fool.
The man smiled, "We're not here to hurt you but we smelled a human and got curious so we decided to follow the little lost lamb. It's a shame he's already claimed. We'll be on our way now Alpha. We don't want any trouble."
Derek didn't move from his spot, keeping Stiles pressed against his side. Kid was starting to calm down and come back to the present. Derek kept the three within his line of sight. "Then get going." He ground out, fangs bared. The man nodded, head bowed in submission.
"Come on guys." He murmured, low and sweet to his pack.
"The human has a big scary alpha protecting him. We should leave them be."
The pack turned around to go but the man stopped, craned his neck around to look at Derek. "You know we could share. We'll even give you the heart. Best bit. Promise."
Derek growled, louder, dangerous. He felt Stiles squirm against his side, heard a whispered, "what the hell are you doing, man? Personal space!" but he ignored him in favour of watching the crazed pack.
The leader licked his lips upon hearing the human speak. "Love a good a fight in my food," he murmured. His packed whined in agreement.
Stiles heard a hideous roar, a sickening crunch, whines, growls, claws against skin. He felt Derek shove him back; fell hard onto a table. Heard Derek shout at him to hide so he scrambled to get behind the table. A swipe at his foot made him cry out. Wetness seeped through his trousers. More howls.
Hunger in the air. The smell of metal.
Stiles managed to haul his body over and behind the table. He pressed himself low against the ground. Breaths shallow, every gasp feeling like a hot knife to his side. He could taste the dirt on his lips, smell the scent of rotting trash and sharp metal. His leg stung, sides hurt, arm…fine.
A broken howl made him look up but he couldn't see anything clearly, it was too dark for his human eyes, vision was still blurry. He could only make out fleeting shadows, splashes of red, glistening, white fangs.
Derek ripped into a neck. Tearing arteries, breaking bone, spraying blood everywhere. His wolf loved it, revelled in the chaos, the dominance of making another wolf submit. It gave him power. Made him thirst. He dropped the leader's mangled body, heard one the wolves run away but the adrenaline was still there, coursing through his blood. Just as he was about to give chase his wolf caught the scent of fear, so strong and beautiful. Fear and something else…Derek stalked towards the alluring smell, body tensed, claws out, ready to tear and kill.
Stiles tensed as he saw footsteps heading his way, Derek? He tightened his grip on the jagged rock in his hands. Not the best weapon against an insane, ravaging werewolf but it was better than nothing.
"D-Derek…"He called out, softly. "That you, Sourwolf? Please tell me that's you. I'm way too young to die. Still a virgin man."
Derek twitched. His wolf growled, hungry but the sound of Stile's voice tugged at him, wrenched him out of the bloodlust. He blinked and the red haze disappeared. His mind was clear again.
"Stiles?" He spoke.
A head popped up from behind the ruined table, almost, almost, surprising Derek.
"Thank god it's you, man."
Derek quirked both brows at the rock Stiles held in his bleeding hand. Stiles glanced at his hand. "Um, protection. You know…"
Derek scoffed. "Were you going to hit the wolf with that rock and expect him to drop dead or something…your logic makes too much sense, Stiles."
Stiles got up from behind the table, winced at the sharp sting in his leg and limped towards Derek. He dropped the stone on his way, it clattered amongst the others.
Dark eyes squinted at the way Stiles limped towards him.
"Leg?" He asked.
"No amputating needed, buddy. Just a scratch." Stiles brushed Derek's hands away but the alpha grabbed hold of his wrist.
"Ow! Relax the muscles, man. I'm fragile." Derek ignored him.
"Sit down; we have to bandage this up or you'll attract the wolves and the infected." He pulled Stiles back towards the table and went to search for the bag he dropped during the scuffle.
Stiles sat up on the table, one leg on the top, chin on his knee and the other dangling off the side. "Shouldn't we like leave, now? Won't this alert your other wolf buddies?"
Derek located the bag and headed back towards Stiles. He pulled some bandages and antiseptic out and got to work disinfecting and wrapping up the kid's wound.
"We go after I fix this. Not going to have you bleed to death."
Stiles sat there, awkwardly looking around as Derek patched his leg up. He swung his leg a bit too hard and managed to accidently kick Derek in the arm.
"Oh god, sorry—"
The glare Derek gave him was petrifying. "S-sorry." He said again. Man could that guy give a death glare.
"Hey Derek…"
Derek ignored him. Continued wrapping the wound.
"You never ask me questions."
"Why do you talk so much?"
"You don't talk enough but that's not what I meant. I mean you never asked me about this whole 'take-Stiles-to-Deucalion' thing. Shouldn't you know what you're getting into first?"
"I don't need to know, don't want to know."
Stiles didn't speak.
"Done, now give me your hand." Derek stood up and started on Stile's cut hand.
With Derek standing, Stiles finally noticed the frightening amount of blood and gore all over the werewolf. Was that an eyeball on his head!? Oh god, don't look Stiles. He squeezed both eyes shut and pointed in the direction he assumed was Derek's head.
"There's an eyeball on your head man, can you please just flick it off, I'm gonna be sick."
Derek growled at the finger inches away from his lips.
"If you puke on me I'm going to rip your neck out." He shook his head and the eye fell off his head to plop on the ground but not before hitting Stiles' fingers along the way.
Stiles screamed, nearly falling off the table in the process.
"Oh god, that is disgusting. I just touched eyeball. I just touched eyeball!"
Derek rolled his eyes.
"Let's go. We don't want to be here when the patrol come around."
Stiles hopped off the table, making sure not to put weight on his injured leg. He shook his hand.
"Ugh…"
The pair started off again through the building. Broken doors, broken floors, broken everything. It made Stiles so uncomfortable, like something might spring out from the dark and attack him.
"I'm not gonna turn into a werewolf am I?"
Derek rolled his eyes. You'd think a near death experience would make the kid shut up for once. No chance. "He scratched you, didn't bite you. You'll be fine."
"Huh…" Was Stile's only reply.
Five minutes of blissful silence was all Derek got before Stile's opened his big mouth again.
"Hey, you know what?"
Derek chose not to reply but Stiles continued talking anyway.
"You finally called me by my name."
Derek was so surprised he actually laughed and Stiles thought Sourwolf might not be such a bad travelling companion after all.
"Is that an ear on your shoulder!? Oh my god, it is! I'm gonna be sick."
"Stiles!"