The Demon I Cling To
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters.
Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.
Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles
TEN
AN: BOO! I know, three years. Wish I knew what happened. . I do apologize to the readers who supported this story and waited for the next chapters. I will let you know that I have not watched beyond season one of Teen Wolf so no new knowledge will be incorporated into this story which would most likely negate the plot at this point anyway. If you are still looking forward to reading after all this time, I am grateful for your tenacity. Alright, here we go.
Stiles always hated waking up in the morning. But today was particularly excruciating when the sun shined in his room bestowing perfect evidence that the world still turned. Stiles should've broken into the Sherriff's liquor stash to snuff out last night's existence. The teen could swear his body weighed more than one hundred fifty pounds with the way he struggled in sitting up. At least the shaking had stopped; Stiles noticed his whole body now didn't tremble like someone had stuck him in the arctic with just his boxers on. He sighed until his lungs were empty with his hands hiding his face, what was he supposed to do next? Well, start with brushing his teeth; he thought a moment later when the exhale hit his nose offensively.
Going through his morning routine at two in the afternoon, Stiles brushed his teeth slowly; his eyes couldn't meet his reflection in the mirror. He had ruined everything. He was selfish, confessing like that. With Derek in his sensitive state, trying to revive his humanity and Stiles had demolished any progress that had been made. Stiles jumped in his skin as he recalled the werewolf emerging last night.
He totally ruined everything.
Stiles lashed out at the faucet, hitting it repeatedly when it wouldn't turn off the first time.
"GODDAMMIT!"
It didn't take long for Sherriff Stilinski to rush the bathroom eyes frantically searching for the incursion. When all he found was his tense son glowering at the trickling faucet, the man was dumbfounded.
"And just what is this about?" He sighed tiredly. Stiles looked up at his father, and his eyes immediately softened. He had to be okay for him.
"The water was too hot." He gave up the excuse without much sincerity behind it.
Although the he knew the Sherriff didn't believe that was the reason behind the exclamation, thankfully he just nodded in acceptance.
"Just…try to watch your language around your father." The man tapped the molding on the doorway twice in departure for the kitchen.
"Want breakfast?" His father shouted back in an offering to make something somewhat edible, Stiles winced at the thought of crunchy eggs and burned bacon.
"No thanks!" He shouted back. He didn't have an appetite anyway.
Stiles left his bathroom straight back into his room and shut the door quietly. He couldn't have anymore outbursts like that. He would be okay, somehow he would—
"Because you're a weight I can't bear any longer."
Stiles couldn't take the silence. Where there was silence he could hear Derek hurting him with those words and yelling out in distress. When he closed his eyes he saw the alpha in Derek pushing him away. There was nothing to distract him from Derek. The turmoil of last night was gnawing at him and surely it would consume him whole if he let it. What was the next step?
He couldn't let it be discovered by Scott that there was a conflict and Derek may have lost his temperance. Surely his best friend would tell the Argents and who knows what would happen next. But then again, he couldn't let Scott or anyone else around the alpha werewolf if he was not in control of his faculties. Derek could kill someone and if Stiles sat on this information more guilt would tie him down.
As much as it discomforted him, Stiles had no choice but to go back to the Hale property.
Every part of him resisted the thought as he got dressed in khakis and a gray t-shirt with a flannel jacket to insulate him. Stiles was torn. He wished there was time to give Derek the space he needed to cool off. And maybe that time would heal Stiles enough to be able to get over the rejection. However, time was not a luxury extended to them. Derek would be pressured to take someone's life and Stiles wondered would it be indiscriminately. Would he be able to stop at just the hunters?
He flashed back to the woods that one night, Derek covered in foreign blood, eyes red and looking sated. He had to go back to save Derek from himself. As for him…Stiles should be used to rejection. He could bury this one like all the others. There was no other choice. And he did not forget that if he returned Derek threatened to kill him. Stiles would just have to take the risk. Let him be the guinea pig instead of the others.
He finally dragged his eyes to his reflection. Tired, anxious…his stomach kept doing flips.
"You got this." There was hardly any conviction but Stiles moved forward.
Stiles texted Scott, asking for his friend to cover him for a few hours this afternoon with an alibi and was grateful he went along with it unconditionally. Scott most likely knew it was to be with Derek.
I'll be with the gang bowling at 2-ish, u should come.His best friend supplied helpfully. He replied with 'maybe' and left it at that.
Stiles forced himself to tackle his weekend homework first, grateful for his history project being already completed. It was taxing trying to get his mind focused on chemistry equations rather than what he'd say to Derek when he saw him. He repetitively mulled over the cons of going and was about ready to decide it was unwise. He could just head out to the bowling alley, get heckled by Jackson and Lydia for ruining the double date and be normal for a day.
"I just don't want you to be lonely anymore."
Even with the rejection freshly inflicted, Stiles couldn't ignore Derek no matter how hard he tried. Maybe seeing the werewolf was more for Stiles than it was for anything else.
Stiles had to sit down with a bowl of cereal across from his father to keep up appearances. And it was inevitable when his father finally asked him if he was feeling okay. Stiles had lifted a spoonful of milky cereal only to slam it back down when Derek's phantom guttural yell ripped through his mind.
"I'm fine." It was quick and artificial and a cast off, eye contact avoided as displaced soggy flakes were reunited back into the bowl.
A silence followed as Stiles tried not to break under that watchful gaze. He ate two spoonfuls before the Sherriff started.
"You just have been different lately," he began, his voice sounding as if he meant no offense and treaded as if thin ice lay beneath his feet, "It's like you got a whole new life I know nothing about. I guess you're ready to fly the coop is all."
There was a substantial awkwardness that followed but the look on Stiles' face said he held an undying sympathy for the Sherriff and the morning was quickly saved by joking of finding him a wife with three brats as stepchildren. It was nice to smile at his father and have his father genuinely smile back. He found it easy to conjure a smile for a person he truly loved.
His pocket buzzed and he wasted no time to check the message. It was from Jackson
Meet me at the Hale residence –J
Stiles shot out of his chair in horror. This couldn't be happening.
"Now what has got you all bothered?" His father's voice sounded so far away as he gave his vague reply.
"Just…drama. Sorry dad, gotta jet. Bowling today!"
Stiles ran out of the house, not bothering to lock the door—just who would illegally enter a cop's home anyway—and wasted no time backing out of the driveway and onto his usual route to Derek's. He gripped the wheel tightly in his right hand and called Jackson with his left hand. He listened to the endless ringing and cursed into the receiver when the voicemail greeted him.
"Do not go to Derek's! It's dangerous you asshole!" He shouted and ended the call only to call Derek's phone with the same unhelpful robotic female voice instructed him. When the beep finally arrived, Stiles almost hung up he was so nervous, "Look, Derek. I know you want nothing to do with me but Jackson is on his way to you. I will come and get him, so don't doing anything like kill him alright? I can handle this."
Hanging up, Stiles cursed the entire way, speeding down the winding streets. Would he make it before the werewolf met Jackson? God make it so.
"What the hell are you thinking, Jackson." Stiles muttered and blew through a deserted stop sign. If Derek was as vehement as he was last night, the outcome didn't look good for the star lacrosse player. If Jackson was killed, the hunters had every right in their mind to prosecute the alpha and sentence him to death. Stiles found it hard to breathe. Derek didn't deserve an end like that.
Tires slipping onto the gravel entrance to the property, Stiles forced himself to slow so he wouldn't end up another casualty to this place. His eyes were unblinking and searching for Derek or Jackson as he grew closer to the house and only found the property seemingly undisturbed. He was about to ease his shoulders until he rounded the bend in the road and noticed the Porche sitting conspicuously in front of the house, no Jackson in sight.
Stiles barely put his jeep in park before getting to his feet, and searching frantically for either the douche or the werewolf. He sprinted up to the house and climbed the stairs, remembered to avoid the pulled up floor planks on the porch and walked right inside. The door was swung wide open.
"Jackson! Jackson where the hell are—
"Shut the hell up, I'm up here." Jackson was at the top stair looking down at Stiles with a bored expression. Stiles studied the idiot for few seconds, accounting the lack of bodily harm. Stiles let out his next exhale in relief. Jackson alive equals Derek's safety however temporary it may be.
"Why are you here?! This is not okay; he'll kill you and I'm probably next. You have to get out of here—now." Stiles said nervously, he couldn't help looking over his shoulder; the alpha could come any second. Stiles knew the man could hear their voices mixed with the passive sounds of the forest if he was in the vicinity.
Jackson only snorted in contempt, "Bullshit. I know you Stilinski. And you underestimate my tenacity. If you think you can dissuade me from what I want by keeping me at bay—think again. I've indulged your stalling long enough. It's been over a week and I'm tired of waiting. Where is the wolf?"
As Jackson made his way down the stairs with a smug look, Stiles frowned. "I don't know where Derek is. But me helping him has failed, he's volatile and I don't think he'll just stop at a bite! I am begging you to leave."
He didn't have to fake the sincerity, he was sure he looked like a man dying of thirst and Jackson had a full canteen. Stiles jumped at the wind moving the door, the broken hinges creaking loudly. Looking back at an apparently conflicted Jackson, he tried again.
"Please Jackson. I don't care if you never believed me in anything before and never believe me again, but trust me in this: you won't be a werewolf, you won't be human. You'll be dead."
Stiles couldn't take the time to enjoy the disturbed look that crept on Jackson's face, surely he was reliving the attack Derek inflicted on him and he stuttered out unsure in his last attempt at extortion.
"I-If this is some kind of blu—
"GO!" Stiles shouted powerfully in his impatience, pointing to the door and Jackson was startled into moving.
Stiles watched the doorway in great relief as the lacrosse captain walked down the stairs, the idiot shaking his head as he went. Jackson had his hand on the car door only to be unduly and forcefully turned around with his back pressed against the sleek metal frame. Derek had one hand wrapped securely around Jackson's throat effectively choking him.
Feeling as if his stomach had fallen to his feet, Stiles surged forward. No…
He was upon the two with his own hands grabbing at Derek's hold on Jackson, pulling and scrapping at the skin of his arms, yelling in Derek's face as Jackson gurgled and turned cyanotic as he attempted to break the hold by kicking his assailant. Derek just laughed at the futility of the struggle and slammed Jackson into the car again. He stopped kicking, hands wrapped around Derek's wrist, gripping hard as his eyes turned ever more inflamed from the lack of oxygen.
"Derek! Derek, no! Let him go! He's was leaving! Think of what will happen if you—
Derek swiftly turned his ruby gaze to Stiles, never relenting his firm hold on Jackson. Stiles looked back at him in horror. It frightened Stiles—that look—Derek was the werewolf and he didn't seem opposed to disposing of two lives today. Distracted, Stiles couldn't evade Derek as he used his free hand to pick up Stiles by his jacket and flung him to the ground. Stiles landed abruptly on one side of his behind and his right temple landed on a rock that jutted out the ground but he didn't allow himself to stay down long, Jackson was losing his fight as his bloodshot eyes slipped shut and would soon lose consciousness all together. Stiles popped right back off the ground and thought of the day he tested Derek; he recalled all those blows he was able to land…
Stiles frantically looked to the ground, and found a sawed off plank, grabbed it up and ran at Derek who was doubling his efforts to release Jackson Whittman of his life by wrapping his left hand around his throat. He raised the jock off of his feet and careened his spine over the body of the car. Stiles took that opening to swing the side of the sturdy plank into his throat as hard as he could.
Derek immediately released his victim from the unsuspecting blow. Jackson crumpled to the ground, sucking in the air in sickly wheezing fits as Derek groaned and coughed in his own agony.
Stiles pulled up the lacrosse player and shoved him in the driver's seat. Jackson didn't waste time to push the start button but did look to Stiles.
"What about you?" He rasped, Stiles noticed his neck turning red and purple already.
"That's sweet but don't worry about me. Get out of here." He slammed the car door and backed up to drive his point home.
Jackson gave another conflicted look through the tinted glass and Stiles smiled shakily and waved. Stiles was happiest when he listened to the tires squealing as they lead Jackson to safety.
He was losing whatever adrenaline he had and didn't have the will or the strength to stave off another attack from the alpha that seemed no longer hindered by the strike to his Achilles heel. Stiles was going to be honest with himself and say he was afraid to turn around to look at Derek. He didn't want to see Peter Hale in those eyes; the same eyes that can be the softest hue of green that Stiles loved. Still out of breath, Stiles tried to calm his respirations but found it hard to as his heart raced on in fear, and mostly in anticipation.
He wasn't going to run. If he was to die, he'd die putting his faith in the man behind him. He knew Derek could defeat the rage.
"I am emotionally attached to you." Stiles calmed and turned.
Derek was beautiful after all, no matter how tortured. Stiles had to see him before the end. So being brave, Stiles took in the werewolf; resigned to whatever fate awaited him. Derek was once again only in denim jeans, tattered, thin and stained, they hung low on his hips. His chest heaved with his long breaths, his muscles tense and twitching. Yet Stiles eyes widened at the sight of Derek Hale looking back at Stiles with his green eyes. Was he…?
Stiles couldn't speak. He searched for what to say, how could he possibly find the words to set everything back on course? Where to begin? He tried not to stare but his eyes kept coming back to Derek's unreadable expression. He just stood there studying Stiles who was studying him in return.
As Stiles opened his mouth to let god knows what fly out, Derek broke first.
"I told you—I told you not to come." His words were halting but still spoke volumes of his displeasure. His expression hardened to fully convince Stiles his presence was cumbersome to the werewolf.
Stiles felt his hackles rise and huffed in dry amusement, nodding his head in acknowledgement.
"I guess losing your humanity also makes you lose whatever gratuity you'd show when someone saves your life. If Jackson would've died today…"Stiles choked at the repercussion and sucked in sharply, "if he died by your hand, you do realize those hunters would be justified. I stopped it because I can't lose…"
Stiles retracted, he couldn't say that. "Don't condemn me because I care about what happens to you."
Derek let a weary sigh slip pass his steely façade, he was troubled by Stiles admission nonetheless.
"Stiles…"
The teen dropped his head, looking downward, arms holding his torso as he spoke up.
"And I know what I said last night was inappropriate! I shouldn't have burdened you like that especially now. So…I ask that we act like it never happened. Let's continue being friends and I'll never ever bring it up again—I promise. Let me help you. Please Derek."
Surprisingly, Stiles heard Derek's bare feet moving closer. Looking up, Derek was directly before him and the teen wanted nothing more than to close the distance just a little more to feel the warmth that the werewolf possessed. Stiles swallowed thickly, desperate for an answer. Derek lifted his hand and Stiles watched transfixed and closed his eyes softly as he felt those fingers graze the right side of his face and grimaced.
"Ow." He hissed out, bringing his fingers to that spot as well. He had made contact with that rock earlier and didn't realize there was a shallow swell of blood there. He would have to think of an excuse for this…
Derek dropped his hand back to his side, Stiles' drying blood smearing his fingers, "I won't ask that of you… But if you really want to help me Stiles…stay away from me, from here."
Stiles preferred the yelling and threats. Now it felt like someone had begun to wrap hands around his throat. Stiles broke eye contact; the subconscious nodding of his head didn't fit what was forming inside of him. Another rejection and in less than twenty-four hours no less.
"And if I decide to chain myself to one of your many trees and say no?" He said obstinately, trying to channel the past Stiles who hadn't fallen in love with Derek Hale.
"—but I'll be back! Every day, until you come out and talk to me!"
"Would you kill me?" He adds on boldly. Derek let out a wry laugh under his breath so brief, the teen barely caught it.
"You know I could never bring myself to…but I can hurt you. I have hurt you." Stiles could tell this revelation ate at Derek when he turned his head away, the way he gripped his fingers that had touched Stiles a minute ago almost to the point of breaking bone. And Stiles knew that he had no chance of persuading Derek to let him stay.
"If you come here again, I'd be forced to tell Chris Argent everything." Derek stated with finality laced in his voice. Derek backed away a few steps as Stiles registered this new form of threat.
Stiles mulled it over with lightening speed of the outcome. He couldn't be certain that the Argent patriarch would overlook all the things Derek was capable of in his current state. As honorable as the man was, he still had a hunter's code to uphold. It could spell death for the werewolf undeniably. Stiles let his shoulders fall. Derek had used the teen's feelings for him to his advantage and proclaimed checkmate. Stiles barely got the words out.
"Is this really what you want? To be left alone out here, stewing in your past with blood thirsty hunters at your throat?" God, he wished he could stop attempting to change the werewolf's mind but it would be like asking the morning birds to stop chirping.
"Yes. I know I can do this on my own. I don't want your help. In fact...this would be simpler without you." It was spoken in the surest tone, eyes even and placid, muscles relaxing.
Stiles hurriedly raised the hood of his flannel jacket over his head and drew it down as low as it could go over his forehead. He cleared his throat twice to be sure.
"Alright, already. 'Stiles, you stink up the world' I'll go." He surmised bitterly and didn't bother with a goodbye. He couldn't even manage to look at the man for fear of the tears that would surely fall. And most importantly, Derek didn't stop him as he entered the jeep. Stiles fought to keep his eyes off the rearview mirrors as he turned over the engine. He took very fine breaths in and out; he couldn't let Derek hear the sound of him losing what was left of his constitution.
As the jeep spurred forward, Stiles couldn't take it anymore and glanced up at the mirror. Derek was gone.
Stiles pushed the radio on, maxed the volume so that the rock station blared wildly in the cabin of the vehicle and breathed.
It was like there wasn't enough oxygen as he sucked in and out raggedly over and over again. What could he have done differently?
"You're fine. You're fine; you're fine—just fine. Y-you're…" The road became blurry and Stiles felt broken.
He had woken up the next morning encased by familiar warm arms. They ensnared him effectively as his bleary mind tried to make fathomable those heavenly appendages. One arm was just tight enough around his midsection and another went diagonally across his chest and the large hand attached grasped his bare shoulder. Eyes still closed, Stiles smiled lightly and squirmed in his bed; reveling in the foreign sensation of absolute security. But when his body shifted, the arms evaporated and left a tingling path of skin from all the places those arms had been touching. Stiles' heavy brain couldn't understand and his eyes opened, searching for an explanation. Shifting again made him realize the tangled sheets were the culprit; Stiles slowly relieved his torso of the bothersome fabric. He ignored the yearning to relish the thought of whose arms he had been dreaming of and rubbed his face roughly.
Yesterday afternoon, Stiles had sat in his Jeep facing the small recreational park that Scott and he would frequent when they were little. Good thing it was isolated because the teen took hours to recuperate from his departure from the Hale property. His mind kept supplying reasons why he shouldn't be so affected, but his chest ached in a way that kept him crumpled against the steering wheel. Derek's dismissal was on a constant loop and god it stung like the finest whip.
Luckily, when his eyes and face regained their normal hues, Stiles came home to an empty residence. He couldn't remember if his father had work or if it was for football Sunday. It didn't matter and Stiles couldn't hold back his anguish anymore. The rest of Sunday was a blur of white noise television and Poptarts to relieve what little hunger he had.
The alarm on the nightstand had awakened a few minutes after him and sounded as if it were trying to reach the underworld with its cacophony of noises. Startled from his reverie, Stiles resisted flinging it into the nearest solid object and rigidly tapped the snooze.
Stiles hated that it was Monday. Today he had to be okay for the people around him. They couldn't know what he was feeling. Every bit of it had to be buried deep and every hole covered expertly. Stiles prayed he could keep the pain from sprouting from those unmarked graves. At most times he was screaming on the inside, fighting Derek's last words over and over again.
Stiles readied his body and mind for a day of emotional restraints and mentally and physically taxing situations. He'd have to really work hard at shielding his distress from a highly sensitive werewolf best friend and still be able to function on the academic level. Stiles wouldn't be surprised if his hair started falling out as of now. Checking his phone, Stiles saw a new message from Jackson that had a time mark of 9pm Saturday.
You alive?-J
He wasn't sure if he should be moved by Jackson's inquiry. Stiles numbly texted back.
Alive.
He reached the parking lot in a timely manner with the "cool" kids hanging around their recently polished sweet sixteen rides before the bell would ring signaling the star t of school. Stiles did his usual 'greet those who don't greet you back' routine with a wider smile than usual but no one noticed its particular degree as he walked on by. His locker and Scott came into sight and Stiles tried not to think hard about how to act. Just do.
"Hey. How was the rest of your weekend? Sniff out any signs of those homicidal bastards?" Stiles tried not to talk face to face as he stuffed useless books into his locker, eyes briefly making contact with the teen standing next to him.
Scott looked normal enough, no furrow to his brow that indicated scrutiny or a stance that showed he was sure about something being amiss. So far he was none the wiser. Great. Eight more hours and Stiles would be golden. But Scott did slump to the locker wall with a graceless thump and his hands went straight for the pockets on his hoodie.
"No actually, there was nothing I could find out about the bastards on my own." Stiles took in the childlike irritation Scott was sporting that came about when a square peg wouldn't fit into a round hole. He shook his head in watered down amusement.
"It's probably for the best. The less you know the better." Stiles began to walk towards English Lit and Scott automatically followed.
"I know I said I would try, but I don't think I can stay out of it, Stiles." Scott now had that undeniable pleading look in his eye that he must have avidly studied and perfected from looking at puppy calendars.
Stiles didn't need an explanation as to why Scott was—as an outsider would call it—"looking for trouble". He had once felt that urge, that need to be effective and useful in a situation that so desperately required action. But now…Derek's frigid fanged smile accosted his thoughts.
"—don't want your help. In fact...this would be simpler without you."
Stiles spat out way too rapidly.
"I get it." The duo's eyes met up when Stiles swiftly turned to look at Scott. Stiles noticed his blunder and tried again.
"I do get it, believe me." Stiles turned to make way to his desk only to be gripped by his friend on the shoulder.
Stiles froze in his skin, looking incredulously at Scott who seemed focused on the right side of his face.
"What happened to your head?" He asked with obvious undertones that already suspected Derek. Stiles groaned inwardly, thinking the flesh colored band-aid would be sufficient in hiding the evidence of his injury.
Stiles laughed forcefully, "Damn, you noticed. Don't laugh at me but you know we've been working to fix up the house a bit and well I tripped while going down the stairs and WHAM!" He smacked his hands together simultaneously.
Stiles felt his heart quicken in pace and immediately broke their companionship at the door to the classroom and got in his assigned seat, avoiding any attempt at making eye contact with Scott. This was hard. Stiles glared at his hand which was currently choking the life out of his pencil. He shouldn't have gone to Derek's house that day…he should have just minded his own business. They were all worse for wear because of his idiotic necessity to know that the werewolf was still in town.
Stiles felt a headache forming from his constantly tensed brow and allowed them to snap back upwards. What was he going to do now? His plan to save Derek had backfired horribly and along the way Stiles had turned their tentative companionship into a full blown drama. Maybe he should just stop trying to help. Maybe if he ignored all of it, the feelings that forced his chest to ache and his heart to flutter would evaporate and things could go back to normal. Derek could take care of himself. That's all Stiles wanted anyway, right? For Derek to be okay? He'll be okay.
But what about me? There's that selfish voice that seemed to pop up unabashedly when Stiles was trying to do something honorable and self-deprecating like in the movies he liked. Stiles huffed, earning him a sideways glance from his neighbor that he ignored. He'd be fine too. He'd be fine without Derek. It was good to cut off whatever relationship they had early before Stiles felt like he was losing an arm or something.
Turning the pages of his book listlessly, Stiles bit his lip harshly as something stung in the back of his sinuses. Instead of losing his limbs, it felt like he was missing his entire heart...
Lunch came around without a hitch. Stiles stayed as quiet as normality would allow when attempting to appear as if everything was okay when in reality it wasn't. There wasn't much to talk about anyway. Scott and Allison were too tense with worry over the rogue hunters, Lydia was texting, while Danny was wrapped up in a novel that Stiles couldn't recognize. If it wasn't for school, Stiles could care less. And Jackson happened to be at home with a "cold".
Only ten minutes remained to the lunch period as Stiles had nothing better to do than to play Tetris on his phone when he suddenly felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. Looking up and ruining whatever chance he had at beating his personal best, Stiles was greeted with the curious brown eyes of Danny who sat silently beside him the entire time. Stiles shoots back a questioning look in return.
"Can you help me find a book in the library; I think you'll know this particular one I'm looking for." If Danny's nuances were anything to go by, this had very little to do with uncovering a book. But Stiles agreed anyway collecting his belongings and waving to 'Scallison' casually as he followed his new friend out the lunchroom.
They didn't voice anything on their way to the library, much to Stiles' relief and he prayed that they would be far enough from Scott's hearing range. The book filled space was a desolate place that students avoided like the plague and even the librarian couldn't be located so finding an alcove undisturbed between the science-fiction and fiction isle wasn't a taxing feat.
"So what's the name of this book we are looking for?" Stiles didn't want to talk about Derek, he didn't want to share how big of a mistake he had made telling the werewolf he loved him. It seemed like a good idea at the time when he was ignorant and hopeful and Danny was goading him on. Stiles folded his arms in a subconscious defensive manner.
Snorting softly, Danny rolled his eyes, "You know what—the exact name of the book totally slipped my mind. I think it goes a little something like 'Did You Tell Him You Love Him?' with the subtitle, 'And Did Bang Right After?'."
Stiles tried to be nonchalant as he fired back, "And the author's name is?"
Danny just glared and waited and Stiles deflated like an untied balloon.
"It was like mixing vinegar and baking soda. It all erupted in my face and I'm embarrassed and I want to take it all back." He said honestly in a barely coherent line of words that flew out his mouth in a mumble. Eye contact was impossible at this point and instead he trained his eyes on the tightly packed novels on a shelf in front of him. Danny was silent and Stiles discomfort grew considerably.
"…He turned you down?"
"Yes! Jesus Christ, he did alright?! Just—I shouldn't have…" He must've sounded pathetic because Danny did an unexpected thing and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. They stood like that for a time without a single word uttered and Danny didn't seem too troubled to let go any time soon. Stiles fought the rush of pain resurfacing and chuckled in its place.
"Uh Danny, no matter how sexy I am, you can't take advantage of me while I'm vulnerable like this…"
Danny groaned out and lightly pushed Stiles away, "In your dreams, Stilinski."
The amused looked in his brown eyes faded to an apologetic shade, "I'm sorry. I thought that if you would confess it would work out. I truly did."
Stiles smiled only to comfort Danny, "Don't think for a second I'd blame you. In the end…it was me who decided it was time to…oh well it's over now." He walked passed his friend to a book he pretended to show interest in and Danny followed him with those sorrowful eyes.
"Still, I feel somewhat responsible. Did he do that to your temple?" Danny proceeded, worry clouding his voice. Stiles offered Danny The Faults in Our Hearts and he took it with a furrow in his brow.
"No." Stiles stated simply a gestured to the romance novel, "Here's that book you wanted. I cried like a baby at the end." He never laid eyes on that book in his life.
Danny rolled his eyes and Stiles began to walk away to his next class.
"Hey! I've got an idea. How about coming with me to this thing my boyfriend is doing at his college Friday night? It'd be a good distraction. Loud music, strangers…alcohol." He insinuated heavily at the end and Stiles didn't have to hesitate as the bell rang hideously through the halls.
"I'll go."
AN: Alright! The feels even had me feeling. The song Say Something by A Great Big World helped me bring on this angst fest between Derek and Stiles. So just let me know what you think because I am curious if the story still has the same flow or has too much time passed between writing? Thanks for reading either way!
8/12/16- Hey I had to update this chapter due to the party date. So Monday night turned into Friday night. Sorry for the trouble and I'm working on Chapter ELEVEN for you!