Summary: They finish their conversation
Derek hears the jeep coming down the street before it reaches him, sitting inside the broken down train he listens as the jeep comes to a stop, the slight scratching of Stiles beat-up sneakers against the asphalt, the sound of metal rattling as he slides through the opening at the old fence gate.
"Are there werewolves in the house?" Stiles calls out dragging out the last word ridiculously as he walks into the abandon train station. "I bring breakfast, Sourwolf!"
Rolling his eyes at the nickname he tell himself it's still just as annoying as the first time he heard it and almost believes it.
"Morning bossman," Stiles greets him with a cheerful smile, a vast difference from the distressed young man from last night. It's a trait that baffles Derek, Stiles ability to, for the most part, shake off his troubles and keep moving. He knows that deep down it isn't Stiles forgetting for a moment his pain and hardships but instead it's a determination to not let them darken every part of him. It's a talent Derek secretly envies.
"I bring breakfast burritos for you and your pups," Stile continues holding out one of the bags he carried. "Where is the leather trio?"
He gives him a mild glare which Stiles answer with another cheery smile.
"Erica and Boyd went home, Isaac went with them for a while," he answers, staring at him intently when he hears a bleep in Stiles heart rate.
"Oh," Stiles says hesitantly, his smile unsure for a moment.
Staying silent Derek raises an eyebrow at him.
"Those things have their own language," Stiles muttered dryly crossing the threshold of the train coming down to sit on the floor next to him, digging out a wrapped bundle out of the bag. "Well, since your protégées aren't here that means more food for us."
Stiles drops a burrito in his hands and takes out another one for himself. "I got us orange juice, I was going to bring coffee but I wasn't sure how you take it and figured a little vitamin C never hurt anyone, a big strong Alpha like yourself and your growing wolves could use with some nutriments, cause I'm sure you guys aren't eating the daily requirement of fruits and vegetables, though I guess bringing you burritos for breakfast isn't the healthiest-"
"Do you seriously never stop babbling?" he interrupts in amazement at the amount of words Stiles is able to fit into a sentence without a breath in between.
Stiles scratches the skin over his eyebrow with his thumb, his mouth slightly open as he looks at him strangely. "Uh, no? I mean, have you met me? I babble, I babble like the wind. I go for gold in babble, each and every time. I have no competition; I am the Muhammad Ali of babble."
"Stiles"
"You get gold for managing to fit 'I'll rip your throat out with my teeth' threats into just my name, that's a special skill right there."
"You're nervous," Derek replies paying no heed to the previous comment. "Why are you nervous?"
Stiles flaps his hand between them, narrowly avoiding hitting himself in the face. "What makes you think I'm nervous?"
"The non-stop talking-"
"I just told you I'm-"
"The Muhammad Ali of babble, yeah," Derek interrupts him, rolling his eyes and leans in close to Stiles neck to breath him in, not acknowledging the squeak Stiles lets out when his nose brushes against his skin, his gut clenching at what he finds there. "You smell nervous and your heart is pounding so fast and hard I'm starting to think medical attention is needed."
"You just made a joke," Stiles accuses with narrowed eyes when he pulls back.
He nods, his lips twitching. "It's been known to happen once in a full moon."
"You just made another one!" Stiles points at him, a wide smile taking over his face.
"Stiles," he pauses leaning in close again to take another whiff.
"You don't just smell nervous, you smell," he looks up, Stiles face close to his, the teen's brown eyes blown wide and plush pink mouth parted. "Oh."
"Oh my god," Stiles mumbles into his hands and Derek has the pleasure to see a blush working its way over Stiles skin. His satisfaction in being the cause of it, surprising even him.
"About last night," he starts not sure how to continue. He had left the Stilinski home the night before content, his wolf at peace for once. There had been a shift between him and the human next to him, so subtle but important.
"I couldn't sleep after you left," Stiles blurts out, lowering his hands from his face, staring at him slightly frantic. "I mean it makes no sense, we don't trust each other, although, honestly, I think that's bullshit, more like we don't want to trust each other but can't really help it. We don't like each other much, I annoy the crap out of you and guess what buddy you annoy the crap out of me right back. We should make no sense. We shouldn't even be able to be friends."
"But?" Derek prompts, knowing there's more.
"But that doesn't seem to matter," Stiles continues almost irritated. "I still think about you way more than I should for someone I can't stand. I shouldn't be getting nervous when you get close to me for any other reason than fear and you really don't need to tell me that the nervousness you smell on me isn't fear based, trust me I already know that or tell me whatever else you're smelling on me."
"Stiles-"
"Which I would like to point out isn't really my fault, I'm a teenage guy," Stiles rushes "And you look the way you do, so of course you're going to smell what you smelled on me."
"You done?" he asks dryly when Stiles pauses.
Stiles shrugs. "I'm never really done, but go ahead."
"I thought about you after I left, too," he starts. "And I also think about you more than I should."
He pauses as Stiles lets out a breath, shifting on the floor next to him, he doesn't comment when it closes the small gap between them, leaving them pressed against each other from shoulder to thigh.
"You've saved my life a couple of times and even though it's not exactly my strong point, I do find myself trusting you." He looks at the teen who is watching him silently while he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks away again, the sight distracting. "You are annoying." He smiles slightly as Stiles lets out a huff that sounds a bit amused. "But I'm not a ray of sunshine myself."
"Things that are obvious for 500, Alex," Stiles mumbles.
"You're a smartass with a smart mouth," Derek growls out, more out of habit than actual irritation. "But I also keep coming back for more, so what does that say about me?"
"You're twisted?" Stiles offers.
"You get hot for twisted."
Stiles lets out a high-pitch sound. "I-"
Derek just looks at him and taps the side of his nose.
Stiles groans, tilting his head back to rest against the wall of the train. "Stupid werewolf super noses, it's an unfair advantage."
Derek doesn't bother answering; instead he lets his eyes wander over the elegant line of Stiles neck, admiring the fair skin, pausing to study each mole and freckle on the tempting skin. His and his werewolf's needs making it impossible for him to stop at just looking. He leans in slowly, knowing Stiles can feel him shift closer even when he's still looking up and away from him, giving him enough time to pull away if he wants to. The skin shudders under his tongue as he traces invisible lines from one mole to another. Stiles lets out a soft whine that he echoes as Stiles brings a hand to his hair, fisting it as he holds him to his skin.
"You rile me up, but you calm my wolf," he speaks into the skin. It's true, the more he touches Stiles, the closer he is to him, the calmer his wolf becomes, so happy right now, Derek could almost hear it purring in his ear.
"Really?" Stiles pulls back, looking back at him with a small smile on his face. "So I'm like your-"
"Don't," he warns knowing it's useless.
"Your Allison," Stiles teases, letting out a loud shout of laughter when he growls.
He shakes his head when it has no reaction other than more giggles. "You were right; I must be twisted to be subjecting myself to this."
Stiles grins, his eyes still dancing with amusement. He pulls a smile from him as he radiates with pleasure. "We've established it gets me hot so we're good."
"Yeah," he begrudgingly agrees. "We should eat, it's getting cold."
Stiles nods as he takes a bite and as Derek does the same he feels Stiles slip his hand into his, giving him a cautious side glace.
There is still so much to go over and not just with what they're starting here, there's Jackson and whoever is controlling him, Allison's mother trying to kill Scott and the ripple effect that is sure to cause. Things are coming for them from all sides.
But as Stiles grins at him through another mouthful when he gives the hand a small squeeze he silently agrees with Stiles once more.
