The first thing Stiles remembered clearly was that Derek was still holding him over the bowl of the toilet and all he could smell was vomit.
"Oh, gross." He moaned, trying to pull away. When Derek didn't let him move, he mumbled "I'm okay, done throwing up." And the pressure on the back of his neck to keep him in place let up. "Need to brush my teeth."
"And shower."
"That too." He said, sitting on his backside. Sticky warmth on his face made him panic that he'd actually got puke over himself, until he touched it and saw the blood on his fingers. "What the hell?"
"You fell."
"I remember. You were being a creeper and you smashed my face in with your head."
Something was pressed into his hand, the paper and plastic of an unopened toothbrush. "You need to shower."
"I can go do that in my room."
"You'll do what you are told."
"Fine!" Stiles hissed, head starting to throb again.
"Fine!" Derek snapped, walking out of the room and leaving Stiles sitting on the marbled floor.
Derek's shower was massive – white marble with grey flecks, it was cool on his skin even though he had the water a touch short of scalding. It had about a million different settings, from a mist that felt like gentle raindrops, to full on 'Niagara on Viagra' that left him gasping for air as his skin was pummelled raw by the force of the water. Derek didn't have any kind of shampoo for him to use, so he stuck with the bar of soap and scrubbed every part of his skin until he was pink and raw. He doubted he'd ever been so clean.
Derek's towels were nothing like the crappy grey ones they had to use down in their own rooms either – these were massive, fluffy giant towels that felt about 4 inches thick and soaked up water like a sponge. He was midway through brushing his teeth when he noticed that his clothes were gone.
He'd left them in a pile on the floor, along with his training shoes, but everything was gone. Had Derek removed them while he was in the shower? Had Derek been in the bathroom while Stiles was showering? When Stiles was naked? Oh God, he thought franticly. Had Derek Hale seen him naked?
Wrapping the towel tightly around his waist – toothbrush hanging from his mouth, he gingerly opened the door to the bedroom and peeked out. Was he going to have to walk, naked (the towel didn't count) all the way back to his room?
"Are you done?" Derek's voice cut over Stiles panicking thoughts like a hot knife through butter.
"Where are my clothes?" Stiles managed to say around the toothbrush, both hands still holding tightly to the towel at his waist. He knew what he looked like naked – pale skin, moles and just a touch too skinny to be anything but scrawny – he didn't like to think how great Derek had looked shirtless, or Danny, or Jackson – or anyone really. He was like the runt of the litter.
"They were stinking the room out." Derek said, screwing up his face – one of the first expressions other than grump or pissed that Stiles had seen. "Put those on." He pointed to the small pile of clothes that were just outside the door. They weren't the 'uniform' that he'd been given by Gibson, but it was mostly black, so he guessed it would be okay. He nodded, grabbed the clothes and slammed the door shut behind him.
No lock on the door. He should have noticed that before. There were no locks on any of the doors.
The clothes were Derek's. Stiles knew right away that they weren't cast offs from some previous staff member. The fact that the black jeans were too big in the waist and just a touch too long in the leg – or that the long sleeve t-shirt was a brand that cost more than Stiles entire wardrobe back home – just made in obvious. He didn't even want to think about the designer underwear that fit him surprisingly well – he was never going to be David Beckham, but he did think maybe he needed to change from his boxers to this style…
The jeans hung too low on his hips, showing the wide band of elastic with the designer brand woven in, but luckily the t-shirt covered that. Pushing the sleeves of the tee up, he glanced in the mirror. Gibson was going to kill him if he caught him in these clothes. Like, actually rip him a new one.
Sighing, he pushed the bathroom door open and padded barefoot into the bedroom. Derek was sitting on the chair facing the fireplace – he turned and gave Stiles a strange look before pointing to the other chair. "Sit."
Not even bothering to argue, and too tired to care, Stiles did what he was told, flopping down onto the overstuffed chair with a sigh. Derek pulled the cover off the tray of food and Stiles wrinkled his nose. "That'll be stone cold by now." He said, before his brain registered the steam coming off the food.
"I had new food brought up." Derek said, looking at him like perhaps he needed a brain scan. There was steak, and some kind of savoury pie with a pastry crust, gravy seeping out the small hole in the top. "That's yours." Derek said, pointing at it with a sharp, serrated knife. "Don't touch my steak."
Stiles watched Derek cut into the meat that was still too pink in the middle for a few seconds before the wolf looked at him, frown firmly in place. "Eat." He snapped when Stiles looked at him, unmoving. Nodding, he picked up the cutlery and started cutting into the crust. Gravy and chicken poured out, the smell making his stomach growl hungrily. He stabbed the nearest bit of chicken with his fork and put it in his mouth. "Jesus." He groaned. "Do they put crack in this stuff to make it so good?" When Derek didn't reply, Stiles shrugged and carried on eating.
About half way through his meal, Derek started using his steak to mop up the gravy from Stiles side of the plate. "Dude!" Stiles whined. "I was leaving that for my potatoes."
"You need to eat faster, then." Derek said, using his fork to push Stiles' knife out of the way. He didn't do it again though.
Stiles knew something was wrong when he fell asleep mid-mouthful and nearly choked to death on a bit of broccoli. Derek leaned over and smacked him on the back before returning to his meal, as Stiles gasped for air.
"I think you enjoy hitting me." He grumbled, once he'd got his breath back. His words were a little slurred.
"I think you have a concussion." Derek said, still eating. "Go lie down or something." He pointed to the bed with his fork before going back to his meal.
"Can't sleep in your bed." Stiles mumbled.
"You've already crawled all over it." Derek said, mouth full. "Doesn't make a difference to the smell."
"Gibson'll kill me."
"Shut up, Stiles, and do what you're told."
"Do this, Stiles, do that, Stiles, Do what you're told, Stiles." He muttered, standing up on shaky legs. "All people ever do is boss me about."
"You ever wonder why?" Derek said, as Stiles padded across the floor.
"Cause I'm so shy and submissive?" He said, clambering up onto the massive mattress.
Derek actually laughed, which made Stiles smile drunkenly. He'd never heard the wolf laugh – he didn't look like he had the type of face for smiling – but when he did, damn. He was all white teeth and… was that a dimple? Derek Hale had dimples! It was a nice sound, warm and open, and it was the last thing he heard before his head hit the pillow and sleep claimed him.
"Wake up." A rough hand grabbed his shoulder, giving him a shake.
"No." He mumbled, falling instantly back to sleep.
"Wake up." A kick to the leg this time, not painful but enough to make Stiles kick back automatically. His heel hit bone.
"Leave me alone." He groaned.
"Wake up."
"Why do you keep telling me to wake up?" Stiles grumbled, blinking. It was dark and he was so warm and comfortable.
"Just checking you're not dead."
"M'not dead." He mumbled, rolling onto his side and snuggling deeper into the warmth pressed against him.
"Okay."
Stiles woke up to the sound of running water – going almost instantly from half asleep to wide awake, sitting bolt upright on the bed. He was still on top of the covers, the bed didn't even need made – it was still pretty neat.
A glance at the clock on the mantle made his stomach flip dangerously. It was almost 9am.
"Shit!" He half yelled, rolling off the edge of the bed and managing somehow to stop from faceplanting on the carpet. "Shit!"
Gibson was going to kill him. Derek was going to kill him. He was pretty sure everyone in the house was going to kill him – breakfast should have been brought to their rooms an hour ago. He was so dead.
He was still barefoot – with no idea where his shoes were – when he saw it. The tray. The breakfast tray of food, with a Stiles size portion left over. He padded over, feet making no sound on the thick carpet, and grabbed the toast. It was cold, but edible.
"Pills are on the tray." Derek's voice said from the door of the bathroom as he walked out, towel on his hips, opening the large wardrobe.
"Thanks." Stiles said, grabbing them quickly so he wouldn't get caught looking at the massive expanse of Derek's chest. Or the way the water droplets from his hair were dripping and running down the muscles on his back. "What are these?"
"Aderall and Painkillers." Derek said.
"Oh, thanks." Stiles mumbled, throwing them down his neck and taking a swig of the orange juice. "I'd better get back to Gibson." Stiles said, not looking at Derek. He didn't add the silent 'So he can kick my ass.' But he was sure it was implied. The older man was gonna kill him.
"Sarah wants to see you." Derek said walking towards the computer and turning it on. He was dressed, the drops of water on his skin making darker spots on his grey t-shirt. "She's in the games room."
"Do I have to go see Gibson first?"
"No."
"Awesome."
"Ouch!" Was the first thing Sarah said as Stiles opened the door to the games room. She was sitting putting together a pretty complicated looking jigsaw on the felt table. "That looks like it hurts."
Stiles gingerly touched his forehead, feeling the slightly swollen bump and cut. "I actually can't feel it." He admitted with a shrug.
"That'll be becau-" She stopped, looking at her puzzle. "Still looks pretty sore. You can't heal it, huh?"
"No." Stiles shrugged. "It's one of those 'pesky normal' things."
"Sucks to be you, then – cause its purple and gross looking right now."
"You really know how to make a person feel good about themselves." Stiles grinned.
"It's one of my many talents." She snorted. "Peter said Derek knocked you out, but I thought it was just Peter being… well… Peter." She said. "He says things like that sometimes."
"Nah, I fell over." Stiles shrugged.
"You up for a game?" She said, nodding her head towards the PC's.
"I honestly thought you'd never ask." He grinned, which made her smile up at him. Damn, Stiles thought, she was like the perfect girl. So why was he comparing her smile to Derek's?
A few hours later there was a polite knock on the door, and about 5 seconds later, Isaac walked in. In his hands he was holding Stiles sneakers, and a pair of clean socks. Stiles had almost forgotten that he was still barefoot, Sarah had kicked off her shoes too – and they were sitting cross legged on their chairs, leaning over the keyboards.
"Peter sent me down to give these to you." He said, quietly.
"Awesome, dude."
"You play?" Sarah asked, pointing to the screen where they were currently dominating in Hutt Ball.
"No, sorry." The taller teen said, blushing. "I've only got an xbox at home."
"Sweet!" She paused, swearing under her breath. "I swear to God this lag is kicking my ass." She glanced back at Isaac, who was backing out of the room. "Where ya going? Peters leaving with Erica, right?" Stiles assumed Isaac nodded. "We're gonna play some co-op!"
"The language that you three are using would turn the air blue." A female voice said behind them, sitting together on the sofa, squashed up in a mess of limbs. All three heads snapped around, Stiles and Isaac freezing in place, while Sarah laughed.
"Aww, Laura, it totally doesn't count – this is Halo, this is waaaaaar."
Laura Hale was standing with her hands on her hips, in a tight pair of jeans and a warm jumper. She looked perfectly normal – if perfect was normal – but Stiles was aware of the feeling of power that came off her. Standing a few steps behind her was Danny and Jackson, the latter scowling at him.
"How's your head, Stiles?" Laura asked, leaning down and touching the bruise.
"Good, yeah. I took some painkillers." He said, trying not to move as her finger tips lightly touched his head.
"Gibson has been advised that you will not be available for duties until this has healed. You will split your time between Sarah," Who punched the air with a triumphant 'Alright!' "And Derek." She paused for a moment before glancing at the three of them sitting on the couch with a sigh. "Sarah, if Peter asks for Isaac back, you will do as you are asked."
"But I get to keep Stiles though, right?"
"Until Derek asks for him." Laura said, turning and walking out. Danny closing the doors behind her.
"Don't worry, dude." She said, elbowing him in the ribs once the door was closed. "Derek won't ask for you." She smirked. "Derek never asks for anyone."
She was wrong.
"Stilinski is to take Mr Derek's dinner to him as normal." Gibson said from the door behind him. Isaac had left a few hours ago, Erica coming to collect him. Her hair looked different, Peter had gone to a fancy salon to get his hair done and had someone do Ericas hair too. It was all golden, bouncy curls – it suited her a lot. Stiles had heard Isaac's "You look really good." As the door shut behind them – and Sarah winked.
"Peter wants them to get it on." She whispered. "He's a total matchmaker."
"Really?" Stiles said, surprised. He'd gotten the feeling that Peter wanted them both to get it on with Peter.
Rather than go back onto the PC's though, Stiles watched Sarah play Dead Space and spent the next couple of hours nearly jumping out of his skin.
"Now, Stilinski." Gibson repeated from the door. "And Miss Sarah, if you please, dinner is being served in the main dining room."
"I'll be right there," She said, "As soon as I've found a save point."
"Take as long as you require." Gibson nodded, smiling for the first time in Stiles presence. "But Mr Derek expects Stilinski now."
He knocked and waited the full 5 seconds before opening the door and carrying Derek's tray through. He was sitting on the middle of the bed, which was covered in papers and books – scribbling notes. Stiles put the tray down and removed the cover – another overly large steak, and a couple of chicken breasts covered in gravy, as well as a mountain of vegetables.
"Chicken is yours." Derek said from the bed, turning over a page in his note book, but making no attempt to move.
"You're supposed to eat first." Stiles said.
"I'm busy." The wolf snapped. "No one is here, so just eat."
Stiles sat down, not liking that Derek was behind him, so he twisted the chair more to the left before he started to eat. "What are you doing?" He asked, mouth full, before he remembered that he wasn't there to talk to Derek. He wasn't Sarah, who was pretty lonely.
Derek looked up at him for a moment, then back to his notes. "Studying."
"Really?" Stiles said, surprised. Others didn't normally talk much about education, although everyone assumed they had a good one. "What are you studying for?"
"Master's degree in History."
"Sweet!" Stiles said, chewing on a carrot. "I love history. That what all these books are for?"
"Yes."
"How cool. I thought you just liked making a mess. Not that you're making a mess or anything, I just didn't think you'd be working towards something, you know? You never really hear about Others studying or graduating. Well done you." He grinned, cramming more food in his mouth.
Derek didn't say anything, just continued to write on his note pad, occasionally glancing up at Stiles, who was trying really hard not to watch Derek study. He looked... relaxed, normal, even – if normal looked like a sex god from Olympus. "Your steak is getting cold." Stile said, once he had finished his side of the plate.
Derek nodded, closing his book and using his pen as a page marker, before climbing off the bed and walking towards the chairs. Sitting down and grabbing the knife and fork, the wolf attacked the steak with gusto.
The fire was throwing off heat and he was perfectly comfortable in his over-large chair, well fed and he could almost feel the painkillers kick in – he just knew he was going to fall asleep, blinks getting longer and longer.
The only difference was that he wasn't too worried that Derek was going to murder him with his steak knife if he fell asleep this time.
Well, looks like everyone is enjoying this so far! I'm so glad :) I get loads of warm fuzzies every time I get a notification, and I swear to god it was the only thing keeping me going at work today, those little emails popping up on my phone (That I totally do not keep at my desk to check for notifications)
For those that asked, Puppy is needing two new hips (at 8 months old, ffs) and I don't think I'll be able to get a loan to pay for it, so am currently trying to work out a way to get the many, many £££ I need. It doesn't look good, and I may end up having to put him up for adoption. So my heart is breaking.
At the moment though, I've got fingers in my ears and am going 'LA LA LA' and playing SWTOR -The Red Eclipse, for those players out there - got me a max level Jedi Shadow, Sith marauder and and working on getting my Imp agent out of the mid 30s. My smuggler isn't getting levelled till he can Romance Corso. Cause I ship that.
So, until tomorrow - love you all, and thank you so much for the lovely reviews, they do mean so much to me!