Hey, I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. I've been very busy, but I promise this story has big plans. Thank you so much for reading. Follow, Favorite, Review.
Friday morning comes fast, Meeting Stiles with a chill that crystallizes on his window. He loves that; the special shiver that only comes with a summer morning. It's cold, yeah, but only to an extent. When it seeps into his skin, melting in the heat of his body, it fills him with something he's not very used to. A calm, a steady breath, a clear thought. When the moments interrupted by the smell of hot food, Stiles is brought back to a reality he's not too sure he wants to be. He slowly crawls out of bed, meeting each hug of the comforter with a pleased smile. He follows his nose to the kitchen, where the Sheriffs leaning over a pile of pancakes.
"Oh Stiles, here." He pushes a plate across the table, food protruding his stern mouth.
"What's the occasion?" Stiles asks slowly before taking a seat.
"I have the graveyard shift, so I won't be home tonight. And this weekend I promised some of the guys from the station we'd go hunting."
Stiles puts his hands behind his head, reminiscing in the free ideas of the weekend.
"House to myself." He smiles.
"Hey," John points his fork towards Stiles,"No party's."
"Yeah yeah Dad."
Truthfully, Stiles was excited to have the weekend to himself. He'd hung out with Scott or Allison Or Lydia everyday since they went shopping. And he had no doubt it was Allison's idea. She truly found the entire Derek situation not okay. But at least shed kept it a secret. Derek, Stiles hadn't thought about him much. Sunday he marked the incident as a drunk mistake, and left it at that. His mind jumps back to shopping; his new outfit. He was waiting all week to wear it. Odd, how in those soft threads he found so much comfort. Not that Stiles was insecure, not at all; he had too much stuff going through his head already. He just felt RIGHT in that outfit. The type of right that makes him look in a mirror every time he passes. Conceded, maybe? Not like Jackson bad but en-
"Stiles?" His eyes snap to a worried Sheriff.
"Sorry, sometimes I just... I was thinking"
"Well you were eating so fast.."
Stiles looks down at his plate, his short stack half downed. He hadn't even realized he was eating.
"I swear bud, one day your gonna drown in those thoughts of yours." John picks up their plates, rinsing them in the sink.
"Yeah, right. I'm gonna go get ready for school." Stiles stands, eyes filmy and staring at an old soda can; still tranced deeply in thought.
"I love you."
"Love you too Dad."
The outfit feels even better today. The way the navy blue baseball jersey curves against his muscles. How the color makes his eyes shine more honey than auburn . The way the beige pants fit his long legs, making each step look unique. He slips on his Adidas, lacing them in perfect bows. On several occasions, Scott had asked why he didn't just throw them away. But he couldn't imagine that. Yeah, maybe they didn't look good with everything, maybe they were worn and dirty, but they were just so undeniable, Stiles.
On the way to school, he checks himself out in the rear view mirror a few times. And once fully satisfied with his hair and clothes, he parks. Scott's waiting for him by a set if lockers.
"That's a good shirt. What are you doing this weekend?" Scott smiles, holding both straps of his backpack.
Stiles didn't feel like hanging out for the next couple of days, it was just gonna be a well needed vacation.
"Uhm well my Dads going hunting, so I have to hold down the fort."
"Oh cool! We should hangout."
"Can't," He lies,"Not allowed to have anyone over this weekend."
"You should come to my house then." Scott pushes.
"And leave the house to itself? That's not exactly how you hold down the fort," He jokes, but quickly redeems with,"Next weekend though."
The bell rings and all the kids run off to class. Stiles finds it funny how different the mood is from Monday to Friday.
Classes fly by; the teachers don't seem to drone on today. Maybe it's because finals start next week. And Stiles was only slightly nervous for that.
At lunch, only the girls are at the table. And Stiles remembers that Scott had to make up a test. Being around Allison made him feel more uneasy than Lydia. The fact that she new about last weekends events just felt imposing; though at the time he desperately needed someone to listen. That's why this weekend was so important, it was a chance to make up for the one prior. The girls wait for him to reach the table before standing.
"We're gonna get some smoothies, want anything?"
He shakes his head, sitting down,"No thanks."
As they cross the cafeteria to the snack bar, he can't help but notice how people stare. And finds himself somewhat ogling them too. How in the world he went from being no one to sitting with some of the most flawless people in school, he had no idea. It has a lot to do with the bite. Stiles was thankful that it made Scott's asthma go away, somehow got him captain of the lacrosse team, and not to forget Allison Argent; but often, Stiles realized what Scott didn't always take into account. That the bite is a curse. That it made them have to keep secrets that can easily drive a man crazy. Stiles is constantly surprised by how well Scott manages everything, he has a lot of respect for the boy whose become a huge part of his life. And he wonders, 'what if I had taken the bite? Where would I be now? Would my ADHD be so bad?' A current of confusion and curiosity flood his mind. 'What if?' But all in all he knows that being plain old Stiles is what he truly wants. That he wouldn't trade this life for some claws and gold eyes. For alphas and packs and omegas and betas. For full moons and wolfsbane. Though, even when human he had to deal with these things; it was much different from the other side.
"I bought you a mango smoothie anyway." Allison smiles, holding it out to him. He nods and grabs the styrofoam cup. Pulling 2 dollars from his pocket, Stiles tosses it across the table.
"Thank you." He takes a bite of the straw, letting the mango fill his mouth.
"I like the outfit." Lydia doesn't flinch, doesn't even smile. Her face stays exactly the same, putting her glossy lips against the straw. She says it like stating a fact, or pronouncing a word from a different language.
"Oh this old thing?" Stiles pinches the collar, pulling it slightly.
She nods, face blank.
"Thank you, for picking it out."
The rest of lunch he sits quietly, listening to their conversations about finals and theories, and things he couldn't be less interested in. He leaves before the bell chimes off, getting to fifth period early. Class is short, they watch an old black and white film, talking all period. Stiles doesn't talk to anyone though, he just draws. Circles and triangles. He tries to remember the tattoo on Derek's back, the direction of each curve. After a few attempts of recreating it, he get frustrated and gives up.
In last period, they have a very old sub. Who, to Stiles, looks practically in tatters. After she takes attendance, he sneaks out the door. No one seems to notice. The entire class is jumping and yelling and acting completely foolish. He feels bad for the poor woman. The halls are completely empty, so Stiles just struts out the front doors without even being bothered. He had expected this to be a quiet weekend to himself, but when he spotted a shiny Camaro parked a few spaces from the Jeep, he knew the alpha had other plans. The entire week he'd avoided Derek, ignoring the text message, and trying his best to get that hyper active brain of his to stray as far as possible from anything werewolf. And today, of all days, Hale had to crash the party. By now Stiles had successfully convinced himself that it was just a mistake. And he was going to take this situation the same way he had been, by ignoring it. Besides, the wolf was probably just here to pick up Scott or Isaac. Still, being in this situation made him feel uncomfortably choked up. And as Stiles gets a few feet from the Camaro, it shifts into reverse, blocking the path to his Jeep.
Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
He sidesteps, trying to make his way around the black car. His palms sweat, throat tightens.
"Stiles."
Ignore.
His name, rolling off the wolf's tongue, feels inappropriate. Its dirty against his ears, but just sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat.
"Stiles listen."
Ignore. Ignore.
Derek pulls the Camaro up behind the Jeep. Officially aggravated, Stiles clenches his jaw, trying to walk around the car again.
As he steps past the passenger window, A deep growl plays towards him.
Ignore.
"Don't make me get out of this car, you don't want that." Stiles stops dead in his tracks before angrily turning towards Derek. He leans cautiously into the window. It was an empty threat, but for some reason, he couldn't find the sanity to keep walking.
"What do you want." The tone of Stiles' voice makes him feel like a different person.
"You still owe me that favor."
Shit, shit, shit.
He doesn't respond, throwing Derek off a bit.
"Grocery shopping, bring them to my house when you're done." He tosses a neatly folded list at Stiles, a 50 crisply held inside.
"And if I don't?"
"Oh you're going to bring them... Because you owe me."
"I don't owe you anything." Stiles argues under his breath, and before Derek can respond, He pushes himself off the car. The alpha knew this was probably a bad idea, but he needed to talk to Stiles. Because if it was any indication, The kid was lost in the same sea of emotions as him. In the rear view mirror, he can see Stiles slamming the door of the Jeep.
"Stupid fucking wolf." His hands slip as he reaches for the steering wheel, coated in sweat.
"Stupid fucking grocery shopping, stupid favor, stupid stupid drunk fucking Stiles."
He rambles as he pulls out of the parking lot, taking a right to the nearest grocery store. As he parks, he takes a moment to gather a rational thought. The list crumbled in his shaking hand. When he opens it, the 50 falls in his lap. At the bottom, in perfect black inked cursive it reads, "I expect to see you tonight". That really pisses Stiles off, because Derek shouldn't expect anything from him. Skimming over the list, he only asks for pretty simple things. Garlic bread, bow tie noodles, some expensive cheese. Just the basic needs for spaghetti. So he stumbles out of the Jeep, angrily mopes to the shopping carts, and heads down isle one. It takes Stiles no more than 20 minutes to get everything together, and he figures with the extra money, Derek at least owed him a candy. So, he grabs a red sucker while checking out. Because if there was one thing he knew about himself, it's that he loves sweets. He saw this opportunity, and took it.
"Derek owes me a lot more than just one sucker."
He tosses on the conveyor belt a handful of lollipops, giving the cashier a shy grin.
"Got a sweet tooth huh?" The man pushes his glasses farther up his nose, passing the groceries to the bagger.
"You could say that." Stiles hands him the fifty, popping the red sucker into his mouth. When the cashier tries to hand back change, Stiles shakes his head.
"Keep it."
The cashier looks surprised for a moment, but smiles. He drops the money into a small box, "Thank you for your donation."
Stiles nods, leaning over the cart. The sucker is sweeter than he remembered, and right now it seems to be the only thing keeping his anger at bay. He throws the groceries into the passenger seat, and as he pushes the cart back, he notices a red mark on his new shirt. It just about throws him over board. At this point he's a time bomb just ready to blow.
The road to Derek's house is the calmest drive, despite Stiles' sea of emotions
"That was faster than I expected. Maybe I should make you shop for me more often." Derek jokes as if they've been friends forever.
Tick.
"Just get you're groceries so I can go."
"Could you help me?"
"What's wrong? The big wolf not able to carry all these bags?"
"The faster we get these inside, the faster you can leave."
Stiles sighs in agreement.
As he reaches for one of the grocery bags, Derek's hand slides across his. The feeling is hush on the boy's skin, and he notices the look of assurance The alpha wears as soon as their hands meet. As if trying to tell him that he shouldn't be afraid of the touch.
Tick.
They unload the groceries into the kitchen.
"Thanks," Derek nods, "You can keep the change."
Stiles grins at himself, "I already donated it."
He spins on his heel, walking towards the front door, but Derek jogs there first; clicking the lock.
Tick.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"We have to talk about what happened."
"No, we don't. It was just a mistake. There now we talked."
"Stiles. You are going to stay right here until we talk, whether you like it or not."
"You're aware my dads the sheriff? I could get you in trouble for this, like serious trouble."
"And you're aware that I'm a werewolf, and-"
Tick.
"I'm not afraid of you." Stiles tries to walk past him but a strong arm wraps around his stomach. As it pulls him, Stiles finds his back pinned to Derek's chest. The alphas arms wrapped around his biceps, deeming them useless against his ribs.
Tick.
"I had you go shopping so I could make us dinner. I thought you'd be more comfortable talking about it when you had food or something to distract you."
"Derek let me go. I don't want to be on this stupid date." Stiles squirms for a while, and Derek matches every move. When finally Stiles realizes that there's no way out of this he angrily grunts a "Fine I'll stay, but just for dinner."
"Good," Derek lets go, walking back towards the kitchen, "And trust me, I'm not wanting to date you."
Tick.
Stiles didn't know why, but that last part made him so mad he had to ball his fists into his pockets to keep from screaming. Back in the kitchen, Derek's already started un packing the bags. He opens cabinets and drawers. Throwing random utensils across the counter. Stiles takes a seat at the bar, somewhat amused by the struggling wolf.
"You have no idea what you're doing."
Derek turns to him, two skillets in either hand. He points one at Stiles, "Yes I do."
It takes a while, but eventually Derek has all the correct utensils laid out.
"Noodles." He chimes, filling a large pot with water. Without warning, Stiles throws the noodles across the room. Derek's back is turned, and as the noodles become level with his face, his arm reaches up, catching them.
"Thanks."
Tick.
After pouring the noodles in, he turns towards Stiles.
"Can you hand me that cheese?"
"No." He pushes the lollipop deep in his mouth, letting it sit on his tongue. Derek stares at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Then his eyes move down Stiles' mouth, down his neck, to the small red stain on his shirt. The boys eyes follow, and he frowns at the mark. He'd completely forgot that he was wearing his new outfit; compliments of Lydia.
"Here." He flinches when Derek presses a cold damp rag against his shirt.
Tick.
Why is he touching me again?
Stiles reluctantly grabs the cloth, scrubbing the stain to a shade of soft pink.
From across the room, Derek calls, "You shouldn't be eating so much candy anyway, it's not good for you." The wolf continues stirring the spaghetti sauce.
Stiles can't help it, but he laughs, "You sound just like m..." His voice trails into nothing.
There's an immediate tension in the room, and they stay quiet for a long while. Until Derek turns to him, holding a roll of French bread in his hand.
"Could you make the garlic bread?"
And though Stiles wants to say no; argue with the alpha, he nods. There was a feeling in him when he thought about his mom, and it threatened him with tears whenever he tried to talk.
"Okay, um here." Derek pushes a few thing towards him, then cuts the bread in half.
Stiles spreads a thick layer of butter on both sides, then powders it over with garlic slices, and garlic salt. The alpha walks over, laying a few pieces of cheese across each half.
"Thank you."
Stiles nods again, standing up. He walks to the dining table, throwing his suckers on the chipping wood. A few minutes pass before the entire house is filled with a sweet sent of buttery garlic, and expensive cheese. Derek inches into the dining room, a pot in between his mitten hands. He places it on the table and leaves again; quickly returning with plates and cups. Then juices and the garlic bread. After everything is placed, he takes a seat across from Stiles.
"Do I have to serve you too?"
Tick.
"No." Stiles takes a plate, filling it with garlic bread and spaghetti. He had to admit, it made him hungry. The smoothie at lunch didn't even make a dent in his stomach, but before he even took a bite, he had to talk. The sooner he talked, the sooner he could leave. And as if Derek was reading his mind, the alpha whispered, "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"What happened, between us."
Tick.
He can't even say it.
"Oh you mean us kissing?"
The tensing of Derek's shoulders bring a grin across Stiles' face.
"Yeah."
"It was a mistake, I'm over it." He swirls his fork in the spaghetti, and it wraps up around the cold metal. Sighing steam at the touch. Derek still doesn't reply, the conversation making him feel awkward despite the fact that he wanted to have it. Stiles realizes the unsteady, nervous trait. He leans forward, swallowing a bite, "Are you gonna talk or what? Because I have stuff to do."
"What do you want me to say? I only wanted to have this talk so I could answer any questions you had."
Stiles' jaw clenches, hardly holding back rage that was boiling for no reason. And he knew that he was being stupid for acting so mad. But with everything that had happened between them recently, confusion and anger were the only emotions that settled on Stiles today. He says to ask questions, and Stiles has a million, but still they won't come out. Won't open his tight jaw. He starts easy.
"What did you mean by not wanting to date me... What's wrong with me? I mean not that I want to date you either. And not that I'm-" He stops himself. The look Derek wears says he's lying, and he knows now that it's best to just shut up. But he can't," And in the bedroom when I said I wasn't gay you said I was lying, what was that about!?" His jaw loosens, words form in his head.
"It's not that I don't want to date you. There's nothing wrong with you, I just don't want a relationship." Again, the anger builds in Stiles, and he has no idea why. Or maybe he does, "And in the bedroo-"
"If you didn't want a relationship then why did you kiss me? And don't say you we're drunk because I've done my research. The alcohol is not strong enough to stay in your system very long."
Derek was quiet across from him.
Tick.
He shrugs at his plate. Eyes on anything but Stiles.
"Answer me." His voice is smothered in anger.
"Derek."
Still, the wolf is silent.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The words were read to just pour out of him, and he was ready to let them.
"You can't just fucking kiss me like that! You can't make me feel like that and then say you don't want a relationship. I am so mad and hurt and confused! This just- it doesn't make any sense to me! I didn't ask for this Derek! You're the one that said we need to talk yet you're just sitting there. I've got questions, and now that I'm ready to discuss this, you're just done? It isn't fair. I need answers," He takes in a deep breath, "I deserve answers."
Derek doesn't say anything. When Stiles looks up, eyes flaming, The wolf shakes his head.
"I don't have answers."
Boom.
"Fuck you Derek." Stiles' palms slap against the table, and everything quivers beneath his trembling fists. Derek's glass topples over, staining the table; but the wolf doesn't even flinch. When Stiles walks frustrated to the front door, there are sudden footsteps behind him. Then an arm holding it shut.
"Stiles I can-"
"You've done enough already." The boy wipes his dripping eyes.
In an instant, Derek's hand drops. The alpha wants to hug him, or kiss him, or stop him; but he can't move. The door flings open, and Stiles is down the porch.
Derek's hurt, seeing Stiles this way. In the kitchen he tried to answer him, desperately wanted to, but the boy just couldn't read him. Couldn't see the emotions pooling in the alphas eyes, or the fire burning there.
But Stiles is hurt too, so he lets him go.