Derek felt Stiles' teeth press deep into his neck. The pressure grew until he was sure the skin must tear and he would choke while his life blood drenched the ground. The only thing he had to use was his knowledge of werewolf instinct. He let his body go completely limp and turned his head slightly to expose more of his neck to the beast that straddled him. Hot, wet (and yet not unpleasant-smelling) breath dampened his skin, and he heard the rumble of the great heart and lungs that worked feverishly inside the powerful body. Derek closed his eyes, starting to panic…the teeth closed even tighter. What was he doing wrong?
Maybe Stiles wanted something more.
"Stiles, I…I submit to you. Don't kill me." The words came out of him easily…too easily. Derek could not even kid himself that he didn't mean every word. He was terrified, but not just about the possibility he might die out here (although he was literally about to piss his pants)…he was terrified about what it would do to Stiles when he came back to himself. Derek had to genuinely submit to save both of them from something that could never be taken back.
A last warning growl made him convulse and almost drag his own neck through the killing teeth to try to escape. A few more seconds, and then the jaws released and the beast pulled back. Derek slowly, oh so slowly and carefully climbed to his feet, freezing for a few seconds when Stiles would growl at him as if testing his resolve. Finally Derek stood and kept his eyes down. His back ached fiercely and his neck itched. He rubbed at it, hoping to see a little blood (meaning he would be a Beta again), but his hand was clean.
Stiles had gone through almost the full Alpha shift, so his shirt was destroyed as were his sandals. He had worn orange baggy shorts that remained intact, protecting his dignity. The shift reversed itself, and the human Stiles looked around confused. He pulled off the shreds of his favorite t-shirt (it read 'The Man, The Legend' with arrows pointing up and down) and kicked the ruined sandals off. He looked around, anywhere but at Derek and whistled tunelessly. He even took a few steps, marveling at his healed ankle for a moment.
"How much do you remember?" Derek asked.
"Oh, uh…all of it." The words 'I'm sorry' kept trying to force themselves out of his mouth, and he kept biting them back. He wasn't and shouldn't be sorry…none of this was his fault, but…
He couldn't even finish the thought. Trying to think about how he felt was like trying to figure out cold fusion or time travel or girls. He felt something for Derek, but could put no name to it. So he just got annoyed and Glared.
Derek took a step toward him, and Stiles flinched, then roared at him with flaring eyes and white fangs. Derek jumped backward and cast his eyes down again. He waited, not daring to look until Stiles was once more in control.
Stiles focused his mind and remembered everything Scott and the others told him about finding an anchor, and finally settled on the image of his mother…how she would feel seeing him looking like a slavering bloodthirsty beast. It worked well, and the wolf subsided.
"Derek…you must know exactly what I'm going through. I think I have a handle on it, but you need to not make any sudden threatening moves….or challenge me in any way. I don't want to hurt you. Okay?"
"Yeah, Stiles. I got it."
Stiles crinkled his forehead. "I can feel the others, they're still here. I'm going to call them now."
Derek put his fingers in his ears, waiting to hear the Alpha summoning howl that could rattle a building, but Stiles just took the phone out of his shorts and sent off a mass text.
They arrived within ten minutes, giggling and laughing and clutching carnival junk-food or prizes from the midway.
Jackson walked over, smirking. "Stilinski, what're you doing out here with no shirt? You an exhibitionist now? Wow, you got some definition going on man, when did that happen? Good for you!" He slapped Stiles on the arm only to be picked up by the shirt one-handed and thrown across the field. He landed with a thunk before jumping to his feet and rushing Stiles, his eyes glowing sapphire blue…and stopped dead in his tracks. Stiles was giving him the good old crimson Alpha Glare, and Jackson promptly looked down and bared his neck.
"Mom, mom, mom, mom…" Stiles chanted before shifting back. "Okay, guys. Derek got himself cursed by the Gypsy that works here, so now he's human and I'm your big bad brooding emotionally constipated feelings-failboat surly McSourwolf, so no sudden moves or I may hurt you. I don't want to, but you know how it is."
"You've got to be kidding me," Erica did in her best Mean Girls tone.
Scott was bewildered. "What, who, how, where…"
"Oh, shut up, idiot." Stiles grumped before clapping his hands over his mouth. "Oh my god, Scott, that wasn't, I didn't…" and again, the apologetic words refused to come out. He stared at Derek.
"Are you fucking kidding me? I can't say…aaagggghhhh!" Stiles stomped off a few feet.
Derek, in spite of his back pain and anxiety over this whole mess, managed to give Stiles a grim smirk. "Now, you understand."
Jackson was staring at Derek, who was liking his expression not at all. "Derek's human? Okay, who wants to throw him around like a rag doll first? I owe him for about twenty broken bones, but I'll settle for breaking ten." Lydia smacked him upside the head, and pointed at Stiles who was coming for him like a freight train. Jackson shrieked, but it was cut off when Stiles squeezed his windpipe shut.
"Listen to me Jackson AND the rest of you, and listen very carefully…none of you will lay a finger on him unless you want that finger…and then your face…bitten clean off." He dropped Jackson to the ground. "And if you want to talk about who deserves payback for abuse around here Jackson, you just come find me. I'd be happy…" Stiles sprouted claws that looked like scythes. "…to go over some fond memories of me and you since about third grade."
"None of us would do that, Stiles. We understand." Allison told him gently. Lydia and Erica nodded in agreement while the boys looked confused.
"Understand what?" Boyd asked.
"THAT I'M THE ALPHA NOW!" Stiles roared at him.
"Yeah…that, too." Lydia muttered.
"Is there any way to break the curse and make Derek the Alpha again?" Isaac asked. Stiles Glared at him, and he started to stutter. "N-not that you w-wouldn't make a great Alpha, Stiles, it's just th-that…"
"I agree with that plan…just try not to say those kinds of things around me. The wolf… doesn't like it." Stiles clawed hands were clenching and unclenching as if itching to get around Isaac's throat.
Danny looked at his watch. "Guys, I have to get home. Call me tomorrow if you want to meet up and figure this out."
"Lydia and I will come with you, if you wouldn't mind dropping us off." Allison kissed Scott goodbye while Lydia did the same to a still gasping Jackson.
"Man, I need to be an Alpha…" he choked out. Stiles walked away before he ripped the blonds head off.
"The rest of you go home too, I have to talk to Derek privately. Be at Derek's house tomorrow at noon. Don't be late. Jackson, you will buy lunch for everyone and bring it. Everyone text him what you want. Feel free to order as much as you want from all different restaurants."
They left, Jackson whining like a puppy while Lydia consoled him by telling him her lunch order.
"Why didn't you tell me this was so hard?" Stiles asked pointedly.
Derek thought of an answer, then had to rephrase it twice in the form of something that wouldn't get him killed.
"Because it's hard. You can't apologize, you can't admit weakness, you can't show fear, doubt or regret…and you can't tolerate insubordination. Sometimes talking is so hard that I…"
"...just Glare until the other person goes away?"
Derek nodded. "While I have the chance to say it, I'm so sorry…about all of it."
Stiles rubbed his eyes. "Is it always going to be like this? I've got to tell you…I don't like it. If we can fix this…then let's do it. The wolf is growing inside me, Derek. I don't know what I will be like tomorrow, hell maybe even tonight!"
"It's not always going to be like this. It's just when you're a new Alpha…Laura learned to say she was sorry about things three years after the fire. It just takes time…it's a process. If it hadn't been a full year since I became Alpha I don't think I could have told you I appreciated you last night. It took all my willpower."
"It did look like it was causing you pain," Stiles laughed.
An awkward silence fell between them.
"I guess I should take you back home?" Derek ventured respectfully.
"I'M DRIVING!" Stiles roared.
{}{}{}{}
Stiles got home in time for his curfew, not that it mattered since his father would likely not be returning until noon tomorrow to catch a few winks and head back in. He thought Derek would just drive off to get away from him, but the ex-Alpha followed him inside and up to his bedroom.
"Will you be all right tonight?" Derek asked him.
"I'll be fine." Stiles told him gruffly. More silence. Derek got up and moved towards the door.
"Derek!" Stiles snarled.
"Yeah?" Cool as a cucumber.
Stiles' face turned red with effort. The mouth opened, closed, and opened again. "Stay!" he barked. The wolf was overlaying his human mind. People concerns were becoming far off and muted. Pack mentality was becoming everything.
Derek smirked. "Feeling protective of your weaker Pack members?"
Stiles nodded, still red-faced.
"Where do you want me?" The question came out sounding almost seductive. It dawned on Derek that he was a little drawn to Stiles…natural enough in Beta werewolves; Derek knew of plenty of Packs where the Alpha would bed some of the Betas until a suitable mate was found…but Derek was not a Beta anymore. Did werewolves have a natural allure that could affect humans like him, an allure that Alphas would have in abundance? Derek had never experienced difficulty attracting partners (and he knew perfectly well that he was fucking hot)…even Kate for all her insanity had been at least genuinely attracted to his body. He remembered now that she would always describe him as sexy (with no lie detected), but had not once said she loved him. She had still burned his family alive without hesitation or remorse…so there went the animal magnetism theory. Why on earth then would Derek feel this suicidal attraction to a guy who would rip his throat out at the first wrong move or spoken word? It was insane. The attraction might even be mutual.
Stiles pointed at the bed, so Derek went and sat down on it. Stiles stared at him.
"Use your words, Stiles." Derek told him gently.
Emotions, mostly anger-related, swept across the Alpha's face. "Get comfortable," he told Derek in the same tone one might use to say "Stop stabbing me in the balls."
Derek stood and took off his leather jacket and hung it on the chair and kicked off his shoes and socks.
Stiles kept Glaring. Derek sighed and shucked his jeans revealing black boxer shorts.
No change in the Alpha. Off came the Henley t-shirt. Stiles may have licked his lips, but Derek wasn't entirely sure.
"You can't be serious?" Derek pointed at his boxers.
Stiles huffed and stood up, shucking both shorts and his own boxers with no embarrassment whatsoever. He flicked off the light (and Derek marveled that he was now blind in the darkness for the first time) and pushed Derek rudely onto the bed. Derek had three seconds to get under the blanket before he was crowded into the wall by an Alpha who was all up in his business.
"Stiles, you're not going to…" Derek's voice was several octaves higher than it had ever been since puberty.
"I just need this. It helps." Stiles said no more, wrapping an arm around Derek's waist and biting his neck with his (human) teeth. Stiles dropped off to sleep, and within an amazingly short time Derek did too.
{}{}{}{}
Derek woke up alone. He inhaled to see if he could scent Stiles, and smelled….nothing. His nose seemed to be clogged though he could breathe. His ears seemed to be stuffed, though he could hear the birds outside the window. His eyesight was normal, but lacked the ability to see well in the dim morning light shining past the closed curtain. Derek opened the curtain and gasped in pain as his eyes adjusted.
"Why is every little goddamned thing so painful?" he muttered. When he sat up, his back sent an agonizing objection roaring up into his brain. He lay back down again. That wheelchair had done some damage. A pity it was broken since it looked like he needed one.
Stiles kicked the door open and walked in (wearing his orange shorts once more) with a tray holding a bowl of Cheerios. There was no milk, and no spoon.
"Here." Stiles grunted. More Pack instinct, making sure the young and helpless were fed.
Derek took the bowl. "I'll just go grab a spoon and some milk…" Stiles snarled. "…or not, dry cereal is my favorite."
Derek grabbed a handful of Cheerios and brought it to his mouth, still laying down. He controlled the suicidal urge to choke on the dry cereal, but Stiles' Glare made Derek's body decide it could do without oxygen for a few seconds, thank you very much.
Stiles reached over and pulled Derek into a sitting position, causing Derek to yelp in pain. Stiles peered at Derek's bruised back and was suddenly next to him rubbing his right hand up and down over the afflicted areas. Derek couldn't help but groan in pleasure as the pain ebbed away. The Alpha's ability to heal others had taken him 6 months to learn, but Stiles just picked it up instinctually.
'He's so strong,' Derek thought to himself. 'he has no idea how strong he is.' Derek leaned his head on Stiles' shoulder and moaned, his exposed throat within easy reach should Stiles decide he wanted another taste. Instead, he just growled his approval and worked harder at his task.
"Any ideas on how to solve our little problem?" Stiles asked in a voice that was half-growl.
"A few. None of them pleasant for me." Derek groaned thinking about what it might mean to 'repay the debt' he owed Stiles.
"Let's hear the first."
Derek told him.
{}{}{}{}
"Are you sure about this, Derek?" Stiles grunted.
Derek nodded. They were standing next to Derek's Camaro in front of the old Hale mansion. For this to work, they were going to need privacy. There might be a lot of screaming.
"Just do it." Glare from the Alpha. "Please." Derek amended. He had just finished taking a few of Stiles' left over pain pills. He prayed that wouldn't be considered cheating.
Stiles sighed and grabbed Derek by the throat and slammed him into the side of the Camaro. Derek screamed.
"One." Stiles began the count. He picked Derek back up like a doll and slammed him back down again.
SLAM. "Two."
SLAM. "Three."
{}{}{}{}
Derek lay on the couch in agony. The head slam into the steering wheel was the worst. Derek wondered if he had a concussion. Stiles came in and once more used the healing technique to fix Derek up as best he could. Derek would still need some time to heal naturally, but at least he no longer felt like he was dying.
Stiles sat in a chair across the room when he was done with his ministrations. His eyes widened when he saw that tears were flowing down Derek's cheeks.
"Derek? What's wrong? Was I...too rough? Do you need to see a doctor?"
Derek shook his head. "My god, Stiles. Is this what I did to you all the time? Why the fuck didn't you get away sooner?" Derek Hale, once Alpha of his Pack, lay sniffling and red-faced with wet cheeks as it hit him all at once. The horror was just too big. Stiles helped him. Derek hurt him. Stiles helped him again. Derek hurt him again. And Stiles helped him yet again.
"Derek, it's fine…" Stiles tried to put some emotion in his voice and failed.
Derek lost it then and actually began to bawl, turning and burying his face in the pillow and howling his anguish into decayed smoke-smelling fabric.
"You went from emotional constipation straight to diarrhea," Stiles told him, a bit uncomfortable with this display.
A car pulled up out front. Jackson's voice called out. "What the fuck happened to Derek's Camaro?"
Stiles was out the door and on the lawn blocking Jackson from getting any closer to the house in an instant.
"What." Stiles growled at him.
Jackson was tossing a familiar looking sharp stick from hand to hand. "It's Saturday. You know, Pack Meeting Day. I brought lunch, like you asked. You always get a cheeseburger and curly fries…and I got two for you in case you um…eat more now." Nervousness was coming off Jackson in waves.
Stiles groaned. He forgot about the meeting. Other cars were pulling up now and spilling out the rest of the Pack.
"Stay out here until I call you in. Do not dare disobey me, I can't be held responsible for what would happen." Stiles snarled at them. He jogged back inside.
Derek was gone from the couch, but Stiles quickly traced him to the kitchen where the tap still produced cold water. Derek was washing his face, his eyes puffy and this horrible broken expression fixed firmly in place. Stiles felt a strange pain in his chest.
"Sit out the meeting upstairs. I don't want the Pack to see you like this." Stiles said in the same steady monotone voice that was the only alternative he had to snarling and growling. He thought of it as his 'nice voice'.
"Why?"
'Isn't it obvious? Do you want them to see you vulnerable and weak? They'll remember this when you're Alpha again. They may challenge you; I know Jackson would. I'm trying to protect you, idiot!'
Stiles tried to say what he was thinking on this lower instinctual and animal-like level, to reproduce the meaning into words, but all that came out was "Do what you want."
The Alpha went outside to call the confused Pack in. Derek had gone out the back door before the others came in. He must have circled around to the front again, since they all heard the Camaro driving away before they even finished setting out the food.
The question that was in all their minds went unspoken, so grim was their Alpha's face.
"I'll take Derek's food and…" Jackson began. Stiles growled at him. "…and put it in this cooler to save for him!" he finished. Stiles huffed and bit into his cheeseburger, signaling the rest of the Pack that they were now allowed to eat. Lydia sat down on the couch with her Bento Box and jumped up again. She picked up Jackson's stick off the couch.
"Jackson, put that stick away somewhere before I do. Why the hell are you bringing it everywhere?"
He shrugged. "How many people can say they have a stake that killed a real vampire?" he asked tossing it up in the air again.
