Well, sometimes things escape from underneath you. Like my expectations for this story's initial response. They went way beyond my ideals, which I couldn't be happier about. So, here's some plot cookies for you to eat up. This'll finally give you some answers or maybe just some more questions ;)
Disclaimer: If owned, the possibility for Sterek wouldn't be 50/50, it'd be 100%
The Beast You've Made Of Me
Pressure builds until it breaks. The weak skin barrier protecting Stiles's soft tissue yields. Stiles yelps more than gasps when Derek's fangs become intimate with his blood vessels and muscles. His hands come up from the floor and clasp Derek's arms. He isn't trying to push Derek away as much as he needs something to hold on to. Holy Hale, this freaking hurts. Derek just holds on for a few eternities until he draws his fangs back out. It was hard to tell through all the bloody pain, but Derek isn't yanking his fangs out, like Stiles predicted he would. Instead, he gently removes them like a sterile knife in surgery. It doesn't mean that Stiles isn't cringing in pain any less. He peeks through his eyelashes to see Derek, still wolf-ed out, (he had hoped Derek had come to his senses) studying Stiles like he is trying to decide where to bite next. It turns out it isn't where to bite next, but lick. Stiles had come to accept the smelling but licking. No, that is just – no. This isn't Derek. This is some impostor. Or this is some kinky dream that Stiles is going to wake up in a cold sweat from. Or Scott is going to burst out of a closet shouting, "Got'cha!" and him and Derek will start to giggle like little schoolgirls. But nope, Stiles is abandoned in the reality of Derek running his long, bumpy tongue through the ridges of skin he had made with his claws. It is uncomfortable and feels extremely weird. Stiles's skin rises in gooseflesh, and his fingers tighten on Derek's leather sleeves as Derek drags his tongue from his chest to the bite mark on his neck. It stings and makes Stiles squirm. Derek growls again. Stiles stops moving and gnaws on the inside of his mouth to keep his mind distracted. He drops his head back to the floor with an audible thump and asks himself the age-old question, "Why is this my life?"
It isn't until Derek is practically staring him down does he realize the pain is gone. Well, his throat and collarbone area are numb. And Derek. Derek looks like Derek again. No wolf in sight except for a very confused Derek Hale.
"Stiles?"
"That'd be me."
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh, y'know, it's a long story."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Can you answer my question before I answer yours?"
"What?"
"Can you get off of me?"
Derek is flying off of him like he is some scary looking spider. He is up against the sink before Stiles can even sit up. The werewolf looks a little wild with his leather jacket all rumpled, his hair all fluffy from having wolf-ed out, and his eyes are crazier than they were when they were blazing rubies. Plus, he is gripping the sink so hard the porcelain breaks. But that is okay because Stiles suspects there is no running water.
Stiles is sitting up, gripping his neck and shoulder as if they hurt, but they don't. He awkwardly tries to look at it and sees Derek has ripped his favorite Young the Giant t-shirt, and no amount of Tide is going to get out this bloodstain.
"Look what you did, man. You owe me a new shirt. And a new neck." He massages the area, making it tingle. "What the hell was that all about? Were you trying to kill – oh my God, did you turn me? Derek! Holy shit, no, NO! I told you, I told Scott, I told your crazy uncle, I like being human. I'm good at it, well fairly good at it, and isn't it apart of your moral code or guidelines, or whatever, to turn those that want to be turned? You're an Alpha; you can't just go biting people willy-nilly. Oh God, what I'm I – fix this, Derek, fix this right now!"
And the great and noble Derek just stares at him. And then, jumps out the glassless window. And runs off into the night.
"Well shit."
/
It's the next morning. Stiles's alarm and his dad are both insisting he get out of bed. Both maybe very loud but he is unconvinced. He is tired from a little under three hours of sleep, being clawed and bitten even though when he returned home he discovered the wounds had healed up, not that he was really surprised, and he is pretty sure he is no longer a human. After all that he has had to do for Scott and Derek and countless others, he had hoped he could return to a normal life with no more than a scratch. He thought his resolve to remain human had been made clear. Crystal clear. He has never been more determined about anything. But lo-behold, it is just one more thing to check on his list of failures.
Stiles doesn't like to operate on gloomy mode. It's just depressing and nobody like a Sourwolf, but that is just what he is, isn't he? A wolf. A freaking wolf because Derek can't keep his fangs in his mouth for one night. But Stiles's alarm and his dad don't seem to care about his personal issues. Instead, he is unrolled from his cocoon of blankets, dumped on the floor and told he has ten minutes or else no chocolate chip pancakes for him. Stiles gets his business done in eight.
A sense of normalcy is nice: eating breakfast with his dad, albeit now that his father is no longer Sheriff Stilinski, just Papa Stilinski, and Stiles is now a werewolf. But his dad is taking his son's I-got-my-dad-fired slip-up like a champ. Stiles figures he is use to it, but that doesn't make the guilt weigh any less heavy. His dad just waves him off as Stiles piles into his jeep and motors off to school to face his doom. Scott.
Now, he knows Scott will think rationally about this. Maybe he'll be even excited. They are both werewolves now. Scott could actually be the one teaching Stiles how to show self-control. Well, that is up for discussion. But with Jackson a bit busy with his kanima problem, they both could be the co-captains of the lacrosse team. Hey, then Lydia might even notice him, talk to him! Perhaps this won't be as bad as he had thought. Scott's life seem to get better after he turned, so why can't Stiles's? Sure, there are hunters, like Allison's crazy grandfather, but they are pretty much veterans when it comes to dealing with that kind of stuff. Plus, didn't Derek say that the larger the pack the stronger they were? One more wolf could mean the balance between hunter and werewolf power has tipped to favor the latter. Peter knew he was lying when he told him "no." But now that it has happened, what more can Stiles do about it? When life gives you lemons make lemonade. Well, in this case, when life gives you lemonade, drink it.
His gloomy mode that woke up with him this morning starts to pack its bags, already knowing it was never welcome, when Scott comes ambling down the hallway.
"Scott!" Stiles waves him down.
"Hey!" Scott drops into step with Stiles as they head to Stiles's locker.
"So, you won't believe what happened last night." Stiles prompts, shrugging his backpack off.
"I know, I can't believe it either." Scott smiles at him.
"What-?" Stiles stops, he sees a couple totally violating, in more ways than one, school PDA codes and his locker. He can wait. Besides, what?
"Allison totally took me back! Isn't that awesome? I went over to her house last night. And, well, I didn't use the front door because I knew that wouldn't be a good idea, so I went up to the roof and knocked on her window. We talked on her roof for a while, and she said that she wanted us to be together again. She said something about losing her mom had made her realize that she doesn't want to lose anyone else that she cares about. And some other stuff happened but you probably don't want to know about that. But isn't this great!" Scott gets that funny look in his eye and scrubs the back of his neck. Oh-kay, not what Stiles was expecting, an image of Scott and Allison getting it on, so early in the morning. It isn't even first period yet. He quickly shakes the vision out of his thoughts as quickly as it comes, as in appeared not the other comes… Oh God.
"That is great, man! Way to go!" Stiles slaps Scott hard on the back, hoping to see if his newly gifted strength knocks Scott out of his wet daydreams because seriously, Stiles has bigger problems, and they are in public for goodness's sake! But Scott doesn't even flinch. Instead, he starts walking toward English. And then the bell rings. And the couple is still molesting his locker. Stiles scowls and throws his hands up.
/
Finally, Stiles is able to corner Scott in Chemistry because Mr. Harris expects nothing less but for those two to whisper to each other for the entirety of his class anyway. And Allison is sitting in the front row with Lydia. Stiles and Scott are in the back.
"Dude, I need to talk to you."
"You are talking to me, Stiles." Scott taps his pencil against his notebook and stares at Allison's back.
"Do I look different to you?"
"No. Same as usual."
"You didn't even look at me."
Scott stops tapping his pencil and turns fully in his seat to prove his point. "No, Stiles. You look just like you do every other day."
"Would you like to say something to the class, Mr. McCall?" Mr. Harris is now looming over them. They didn't even notice him appear. "I think you were saying something about how much you like what Mr. Stilinski is wearing today." The class snickers. Allison has a very amused raised eyebrow.
"No sir, just that it's a new shirt." Scott uses that innocent voice he defaults to when he is being suspected for trouble.
"Got it from Macy's. Do you shop there, Mr. Harris?" Stiles asks in all seriousness.
"Where I shop is none of your concern, Mr. Stilinski. The only concern the both of you should be having is seeing me after school. In detention." Mr. Harris is back to slinking up the aisle and droning from the textbook.
"Okay, then do I smell different?" Stiles continues, unfazed but using a softer voice.
For good measure, Scott takes in a deep breath then locks eyes with Stiles. "What is going on? I know you ask weird questions, but this, okay, isn't weirder than your other questions, but why are you asking me how you smell? You usually tell me not to smell you because it is violating your privacy. Did something happen?" Scott has that I-am-really-worried-about-you look in his eyes, and Stiles can finally breakdown and tell him.
/
"DEREK!" Scott shouts. No, he roars. Stiles can hear him from all the way to the road he is speeding down. Scott took off like a flash of lightning once school let out, after he quickly explained to Allison that he is going to kill Derek and pecked her on the cheek. Stiles noticed a little smile crease her face, but he didn't linger long as he went boiling down the stairs and to his jeep to follow Scott.
Stiles yanks the steering wheel to the left, and the jeep's tires begin to crunch leaves, dirt, and twinges. Okay, so maybe Scott isn't thinking rationally about this, but it does touch Stiles a bit that his friend is so raging mad for his sake. But, he doesn't want Scott to murder someone for his sake; he is all right with maiming and torturing him or her, but he would at least like to be there to supervise. Especially when it is Derek Hale.
When he drives into the clearing in front the Hale House he sees Derek framed by Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, all awkwardly snarling at a wolf-ed out Scott. Stiles barely shuts off the engine before he is leaping out the jeep door and fumbling to Scott's side.
"Scott, Scott, enough with the fang showing and the claw baring. I am happy that you are eager to defend my honor but can't we at least act like civilized wolves here and talk about this?" Stiles can't believe he is saying this. He should be ordering Scott to take them out one at a time, starting with that bitch Erica. He still hasn't forgiven her for dumping him in the garbage like a piece of trash.
"Civilized wolves, what are you talking about?" Isaac frowns, "last I checked, we're the wolves, and you're the puny human."
Scott growls. Stiles scratches the back of his head, "funny you should say that." He glances at the man in black, "right Derek?"
The pack snaps their heads to stare at their leader, suddenly going from defensive to, "what the hell?"
"What is he talking about, Derek?" Boyd is the first to ask.
"Yeah, did you turn him?" Erica sneers.
"Wow, glad to know you're so accepting." Stiles glares, and Scott starts to shift back, but not completely.
"Yes, he did! Derek what were you thinking, how could you do this?! He's my friend! You know he doesn't want to be a werewolf! But you forced him, didn't you! You're becoming so power hungry you can't even stop yourself. You talk big about control but you can't even control yourself!"
Derek growls at this but remains passive. "I didn't turn him."
Everyone deadpans, Scott so much so that he returns human. "What? But he," he gestures at a very still Stiles, " said that you bit him."
"Has he noticed any changes, being able to smell things more strongly, hear things from far away, see things more clearly?" Derek asks lowly.
Scott impatiently waits for Stiles to shake his head like he just realized those would have been good symptoms to properly diagnosis his transformation into a supernatural beast.
"Wait, does that mean you're immune too, like Lydia?" Scott is staring wide-eyed at Stiles as are the furry trio, but Derek just continues to avert his eyes.
"No, he's not immune, I just didn't turn him. He is still human."
"What is that suppose to mean, you can bite someone without turning them? I thought that wasn't possible!" Erica accuses, sounding mildly offended.
"I'm the Alpha, I have the ability to control who turns if I bite them." Derek snaps but doesn't come off very convincing.
"So, what did you do, then? If you didn't turn him." Isaac probes, almost looking like he already knows the answer but just wants Derek to say it.
"I marked him." Derek does say it more or less.
"And what's that suppose to mean?" Scott is back to snarling and growling, keeping an unnaturally quiet Stiles behind him.
"It means what it means, I marked him. As…" He mumbles the rest, folding his arms across his chest and dropping his face. Like he is trying to clam up with all of his secrets still unrevealed.
"As, as what, Derek!" Scott strides over until he fisting Derek's leather jacket, and their noses are virtually touching. "What. Did. You. Do?"
"I marked him as mine." Derek finally flickers his eyes to Stiles, still frozen like a little bunny rabbit. The action reminds Stiles of the night before, and he shudders back to reality.
"Wh-at." His voice cracks like some thirteen-year-old boy, he clears it. "By 'as yours' how would you define that? Like some snack for later you put your name on so no one else will eat it, or…? And please, don't let it be 'or."
"Or." Derek grumbles.
Stiles groans, grabs at his head because his hair isn't long enough, and slides down into the fetal position.
Trying out the other characters was interesting, I hope that they are agreeable. Especially Scott, but he won't play a bigger role until later in the story.