Hello! ACR here with a new fic. This is my first time writing Teen Wolf so... yeah!
I love Teen Wolf and I love Sterek. I found a post on Tumblr about Demon!Stiles. A Demon possessing Stiles and Stiles letting it stay there, that sort of deal. So I wanted to write it.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters!
Philaphobia: The Fear of Love and Falling in Love
They are at the pool again, and Stiles is pissed.
For the past week they've all been hunting something new. No big deal, but it's a fucking Harpy. She's huge with wings and purple-ish skin and terrifying eyes and man-eating teeth. She's passing on through town and just happens to kill a few truckers to eat their organs. For once, it isn't a shapeshifter, just a scary, crazy creature. But, nothing they haven't dealt with, big deal.
But no, if the Harpy isn't bad enough, there is some seriously crazy psychopath HUMAN following the Harpy because it used to be her sister. And when Stiles says psychopath, he really means it. She's been following the Harpy across the world for a couple decades trying to kill it. The Beastiary says the Harpy granted this chick with immortal life, but damning it to serving the Harpy for eternity. Obviously this ones different. But man, does she have to be so crazy about it?
Basically, the wolf pack as well as Scotts pack has to handle the Harpy because it has an insatiable hunger for delicious human organs, and they can't have that. But if any of them even get near it, the crazy human bitch comes at them because "no one can kill it but her". Plus to make things worse, Stiles dad and the police are after the human who kills anyone in her way, and all the Hunters are after the Harpy.
It's a complicated mess.
The Harpy is long gone. Outside, it had knocked out Boyd with its huge wings and screamed this epic-Banshee scream that sent Erica running away, tail between her legs. That's about when Stiles and Scott and Alison got there, which just seemed to piss off Derek more, in the, "why the hell do you people show up everywhere" way.
It chased them into the school and screamed again. Apparently the scream is only affective towards females, because it knocks Alison unconscious immediately. Which wasn't a good idea because it suddenly became an "enraged Scott" moment and he attacked it. And then the Human came, with her insane eyes and huge shot-gun. Aside from immortality, Alison had expressed how the girl also seemed to be extra fast and crazy resistant. But she was still human, and so that's when Stiles started to lose it.
Werewolves? No problem. Kanima? Faeries? Harpys? Stiles could handle the supernatural and all the uncontrollable natural creatures the world threw at him. But a genuine dangerous human, who had gone insane? Something about that terrified him more than he was used to. Plus, if he knew his bad luck, the thing that killed him wouldn't be a vampire or a witch, but just a crazy human. He had that kind of luck.
So, when the human (the Opheliac, as Derek said the obsessed Humans were called) appeared, guns-a-blazing, Stiles turned heel and ran. And he felt like a coward the entire time too, but he didn't want to be in the situation. Unfortunately, he ran straight downstairs into the pool area. Of course, because he can't have good luck, the Opheliac followed HIM while Scott and Isaac chased the Harpy outside. And Derek, being a moron, followed Stiles down there too.
So, to add the cherry to the shit-storm, they're at the pool. Again. At least someone had the decency to cover the actual water this time. But Stiles is still caught somewhere between terror, and appreciation of the irony that he's at the pool, again, with Derek Hale. Again.
The human is advancing towards him, her massive shot-gun looking ready to shoot. If Stiles can appreciate one thing, it's that she couldn't look more crazy if a special affects team did her makeup. Her hair looks like it hasn't been brushed in years, complete with branches and leaves sticking out, he clothes are all damp and dirty and ripped. Her eyes are wide, he can see the whites on all sides, and she's smiling the most disgusting smile. Derek is nowhere to be seen and this is it.
"Dirty little doggys pet, aren't you?" She rasps.
"Dirty? Considering your choice of clothes, I don't think you should be calling me that." His voice is nervous, and he's suddenly damning his mouth for its inability to shut the hell up.
She frowns and somehow widens her eyes even more, "No one can kill Stella except for me!" And then she's aiming that gigantic gun at his face, and, holy shit, Stiles is going to die. He's going to die in here. He was going to die a virgin, killed by a human. He had come so far…
He closed his eyes, terror overtaking him but accepting his fate and time seemed to slow down. He heard the distinct sound of the gun firing and waited for the pain. He opened up his eyes just in time to see Derek, werewolfed out, jumping in front of him.
The bullet hit Derek fast and with a lot more force than anticipated, knocking him backwards and into Stiles. They both fell to the floor and Stiles heard someone screaming and… Well, damn. That was him screaming. The scream seemed to momentarily knock the quasi-psychotic woman out of her trance, making her realize that she's down here shooting two people while someone else is chasing her Harpy. She turned without even a second glance and vanished up the stairs. Whatever, she was Scotts problem now.
Stiles is a little too preoccupied with the BLEEDING WEREWOLF LAYING ON TOP OF HIM.
"Oh my god," Stiles rasped. Derek pushed himself up on his hands and knees and… vomited red blood all over the pool floor. "Oh my GOD."
"Stiles, shut up." Derek moaned. Still so rude, even when bleeding.
"What do I do? Sh-should I call the cops?" Derek glared at him. Yeah, it was a stupid question. Never call the cops.
"Get me to the locker room."
Stiles didn't have to be asked twice. He leaned over and wrapped his arm around Derek, pulling him to his feet. The sharp aroma of blood filled his nostrils, and if he looked down, he saw why. The bullet had impacted Dereks ribcage, probably a few inches from his heart. His hands were pressed the area for dear life, but Stiles swore he had never seen so much blood in his entire existence. He half-wondered in horror if Dereks organs might fall out or something, but quickly half-dragged his friend (?) to the locker room.
Derek sprawled out over one of the metal benches. He was paling quickly and his face looked drained, blood dripping from his mouth. Though his whole face was stoic as usual, calm like nothing happened, his still-red eyes reflected the extreme amounts of pain he was feeling.
"Towels." Was all his said. Stiles half ran to the other room, cursing at the large amounts of white towels, grabbing about six anyway. When he returned though, he nearly dropped them as he gasped in horror. Dereks hand must have been half-inside himself, his fingers digging into his own flesh and muscles. Stiles wanted to scream or faint but Derek just winced at the pain and kept going. After a few seconds, he removed his hand, and something fell from it and hit the floor with a clang. Oh god. It was the bullet.
"Needed to extract it so I can heal. " Derek offered in explanation, "Towels?" Stiles walked forward, his mouth still hanging open, and handed them out to the bigger man. Derek looked at them, and suddenly his eyes fluttered like he was going to faint. Stiles grabbed his shoulder as hard as he could to hold him up, and began pressing towels to the open wound, trying hard not to look at it.
"Hey, no, look at me. Don't pass out now, please." Stiles voice was a fucking whisper. He could barely bring himself to speak, though. He wondered if this is what shock felt like, and he's suddenly hyper-aware of his heart slamming in his chest.
Derek grunted and pressed his hand over Stiles hand, holding the towel to the wound. When Stiles was sure he was steady, he reached down and grabbed another towel. He held it up and warily wiped the blood off of Dereks mouth and lips. Dereks eyes were closed as he did, and then they fluttered open, finally having faded back to their blue-ish green.
"You're afraid." Derek said. It was a statement and not a question, but the way his eyes were glued to Stiles it felt like he needed to know.
"Uh, yeah." He thinks about saying something clever about the Harpy and the crazy bitch but can't bring himself to, "I thought you were going to die."
Derek just shrugs, "I'm fine."
Stiles snorts, "Oh yeah, totally fine. You're not like, the biggest idiot in the world or anything."
Derek tilts his head in a way that reminds Stiles of a dog he used to have, which is unpleasant, "Why am I an idiot?"
He stills and looks down at Dereks ribcage. He is pressed the towel there with all his force still, and Derek is pressing his hand like if he stops, Stiles might fall apart. Which at this point, he might.
"You shouldn't have jumped in front of me."
"Would you prefer I let you get shot and die?"
"Yes."
The answer makes Derek stiffen. He looks down and meets his eyes, "I couldn't do that."
"And now you're bleeding everywhere. Great plan." Stiles can't help sounding bitter.
Dereks press on his hand tightens, "I will heal, you wouldn't."
"You saved me." This is obvious, but for once, Stiles' clever words seem to not be working.
Derek shrugged again, "Now I guess we're even." After a few seconds; "You're still afraid."
"Yeah," Stiles heart is still slamming, "I think I'm in shock? I don't know. Uh, are you going to die?" He squeaks the last part because he is sort of not wanting the answer.
"What? No. Here." Derek lets go of Stiles hand and reaches around him, pulling off his blood soaked grey shirt. Though it goes, Stiles keeps his hand pressed hard on the wound, so Derek gently touches his hand and pulls it away, towel and all. Stiles winces, but then relaxes at the sight. Dereks stomach is covered in dried blood, but the bullet wound is mostly healed now. It just looks like a deep cut, now. Stiles sighs in relief and stands up. He walks to the sink and wets a towel in cold water, returning to wipe all the blood off of Dereks chest and stomach.
It's a bit unnerving. His heart is still slamming in his chest, but he's not as afraid anymore in the dark and silence of the locker room. All he hears is his breathing, Derek gasping slightly when Stiles accidentally runs the rag over the wound, and the sound of his heart slamming inside of him. And he finds himself feeling a bit flustered as he touches over Dereks washboard abs and his stomach, and the little trail of hairs leading down below the waist of his jeans.
Stiles takes a second to control his breathing after he finishes cleaning up the blood, trying hard to ignore the pit of warmth in his gut. He should not be aroused from this. It's probably just the adrenaline.
"You saved me." Stiles says again. It sort of rushes out of him, in a whisper. But it really hits him, then. Sure Derek has been protective before, roaring at the other werewolves if they get a little too close to attacking Stiles, distracting other creatures so they wouldn't attack Stiles, but he was always sure that, if the situation at the pool had been reversed, Derek would have left Stiles to drown. So, Derek Hale taking a bullet for him? No, wow. That was a development.
Derek is staring hard at him, "Yes."
"Why?" Stiles looks up into those pits, "I'm not in your pack."
Derek snorts, "Yes you are."
Suddenly Stiles goes rigid but… not really. He feels a sensation a lot like when he was paralyzed by the Kanima, but then his body is moving. Almost on its own. He closes the distance between him and Derek and is on his knees, stretching upwards. His hand moves almost by itself pushing through Dereks hair and then he's kissing him and all the control and sensation comes back.
He doesn't pull away immediately. Derek stiffens, but doesn't run away so Stiles settles, even though his heart is racing. Holy fuck, he is kissing Derek Hale. Derek Hale isn't kissing back, but there is warmth and a little wetness and it's soft and gentle. And then Stiles pulls back and nearly falls, sprawling out all over the floor.
"Oh my God," Stiles looks up. Derek looks completely shocked, but also confused and maybe, possibly, a little bit amused. "Oh my GOD I am so sorry! I don't know- I mean, I've been kind of questioning my sexuality… I guess- No, not that I'm like… Into you! Just, I don't know what happened. I don't know why I did that. I am so sorry." He stands up quickly and turns away. His face feels like it's on fire and he is so embarrassed he wants to just melt into the floor and vanish.
"Holy shit, do you ever stop talking?" Derek stands up a little hesitantly, like he's worried he'll open the wound, and then he's on his feet and closing in and- Holy shit. He's crowding Stiles up against the locker and suddenly its lips-on-lips again.
And damn, it is a lot better being kissed back. The first thought that occurs to Stiles that this is his first real kiss. Sure when he was younger, his mom used to kiss him all the time but that doesn't count. Alison has kissed him on the cheek and Erica has tried a few times, but they never stuck. He used to think he was saving himself for Lydia, but that faded with his crush. So… yeah. First real kiss.
His second thought is holy shit I am kissing a guy. It's not that Stiles is homophobic, he thinks Danny is the bomb whether he's gay or not and supports whatever. But it was only this year that he started questioning his sexuality at all. Little glances at Scott shirtless or a certain appreciation for Jacksons jaw line were one thing, but lustfully getting off at the thought of random guys blowing him was when he started wondering. Now he's almost sure.
The third thought is why the hell Derek is kissing him right now at all. He doesn't have much time to complete that thought, though, because Derek is pulling away and looking irritated.
"Stop thinking. You're thinking too hard."
"Oh." Is all Stiles can squeak out.
Dereks eyes soften, "What?"
"I just… I am confused. About my sexuality." He stutters.
"I'm not." Derek says solidly.
"Oh. Oh."
Derek sighs and lifts up his hand, pressing his thumb against Stiles' chest, hard. So hard there might be a bruise there tomorrow.
"Do you feel that? Do you hear that? Your heart."
"Uh, yeah." It is slamming, faster than earlier when Derek got shot. He might be having cardiac arrest.
"It means you're not confused, not right now."
He knew he was right. He stared into eyes that had a certain softness to them Stiles only ever saw directed towards him. And damn, he really wanted to kiss him.
Suddenly, something rang out, loud and clear but it echoes within the hollows of his mind. A voice that was there, but it wasn't, cold as iron and hard as stone.
It's either kiss him or kill him, Stiles. And since you're too weak to kill him, you better do the other.
He's shocked and maybe a little alarmed but his body is moving without his consent again, digging fingers into Dereks shaggy hair and pulling him in. Dereks lips open up warmly and wetly, letting Stiles' move against them and it feels fucking amazing. He nervously inches his tongue forward, and Derek takes it graciously, sucking on it hard. Stiles whimpers and feels Dereks hands on his waist, under his shirt, just touching his stomach lightly. Derek tastes like blood mostly, and maybe just a hint of something else. Suddenly Derek pulls back and pushes away from him.
"Fuck." He rushes over and sits down like nothing had happened. Stiles feels a bit wounded and wants to ask what the hell, but the question is answered as Isaac and Scott (carrying Alison) appear through the door.
They don't look too bad, a few easily healing cuts and blood clumping an area of Scotts hair. Derek stands up, and is awkwardly obvious about his irritation at their intrusion.
Scott frowns, "The Argents showed up, had to have put fifteen bullets in the Opheliac but she kept going."
"She's immortal. Only killing the Harpy can let her die." Derek says like its common knowledge.
"But they captured the Harpy. They had huge nets and whatever. The Opheliac ran away."
"But I think she'll try to find the Harpy," Isaac piped up, "So it's the Argents problem now."
"It's never not our problem." Derek growled. He was suddenly rude and harsh, the cold returning to his eyes. Stiles wondered for a second if that had really just happened, but then he tasted the blood on his lips and knew it had.
Fuck.
That night, Stiles couldn't sleep even if he wanted to. Sitting in his room, he felt like he wasn't alone. It was the most unnerving thing ever, so he focused on thinking.
Honestly, he hadn't had normal feelings for Derek since the pool incident. Something about holding someone up for two hours and being the only reason they're alive kind of changes the relationship. After that Derek was particularly weird, and this wasn't the first time Stiles had noticed, of course. He was more keen to protect Stiles while letting Scott get harmed, though that was probably because Stiles was human. Derek was also a lot softer with Stiles. While he turned cold glares and sarcastic remarks on everyone else, he turned comfortable silence and soft eyes to Stiles. He still threatened to punch him when he talked too much, but Stiles no longer thought he meant it.
So, a friendship had formed, definitely. So, what about romantic feelings? Yeah, there were those pesky wet dreams featuring men, and his fantasies turning different when he imagined Derek going down on him instead of some random chick. And the obnoxious arousal when Derek took off his shirt.
Stiles shifted uncomfortably. Okay. Friendship feelings and maybe some sexual urges. But how about romantic? He closed his eyes and imagined Derek. There was that warmth again, but it wasn't really arousal… He imagined Dereks big stupid smile, and the way his hair looked messy after he had been sleeping. He imagined the way his voice sounded when he wasn't being an uptight prick, and yeah, they sounded very different. Those eyes that got all wide when he was listening. He even liked the way Derek looked with red eyes and teeth bared, growling at something that was going trying to kill them.
You're so fucking oblivious, do you think those are friendly feelings?
Stiles froze. There was that voice again. Cold and distant, like an echo from a long time ago. There, but not there, clouded and coming from inside.
"Who are you?" Stiles said, feigning courage and wondering if he was losing his mind. It was really only a matter of time.
There was a pause, and then: I'm your subconscious, dumbass.
"Bullshit," Stiles whispered, "I have a subconscious, and it sure as hell doesn't sound like you." There was a rumbling, sort of like a low laughing.
Does it sound like Derek? Because you're so head over heels for this guy it's getting gross.
"Okay, mysterious voice, I'll play along. What the hell are you talking about?"
A whisper, like a sigh. You can't stop thinking about his voice and his laugh and his smile, and you think those are friendly? Add on, you get half hard just thinking about him. I've been here, I see your fantasies.
Stiles feels a little violated, "How long have you been here? What are you?"
This time there is a long silence, so long Stiles begins to understand that the voice is gone and he begins to drift to sleep. But just before he slips under, he hears it again, far away now.
My name is Rael.