Part 1
Chapter 1:
Derek woke to the loud buzzing of his phone, the vibrations causing it to rattle across the bedside table to his left. He threw himself towards it before the phone could fall to the concrete floor, a sleepy scowl marring his face. He pressed the phone to his ear and growled into the microphone. ''What?''.
Scott's agitated voice crackled down the line, instantly transforming Derek's anger into a lesser form of irritation. ''Derek! Stiles is missing!''
''He's what?''
''Missing. He just called me and he has no idea where he is. I think he's been sleepwalking''. Derek lifted himself from his bed, grabbing at the first items of clothing he sees while Scott continues to speak. ''He says he's in a basement somewhere; his leg is trapped and he's bleeding''. As this image began to take shape in his mind Derek froze, a horrified lump lodging itself in his throat. Derek replied ''I'll go to his house, try to pick up his scent. Call me if you hear anything''. Hanging up the phone Derek rushed around his loft, grabbing his phone and keys and shoving them into his pockets.
For months Derek had been wrestling with a very private struggle, one that deeply annoyed and confused him, with his bafflement only deepening his annoyance. He had developed feelings toward Stiles, though he refused to think of it as anything other than an 'attachment'. In fact, it was barely even an attachment really… Derek just happened to admire Stiles's loyalty and unfailing ability to face supernaturally life-threatening danger with a comical sense of humour, despite Stiles's near complete lack of strength and reliance on his friends for protection. Not to mention that Stiles had quite recently matured through a combination of age and lacrosse training, beginning to transform from an awkward teenager to someone more confident (and capable of properly filling out his lacrosse uniform). Derek had found himself paying close attention to the slight changes to Stiles over the past months, his gaze often wandering to his lips as his thoughts followed a similar, less innocent path. He had occasionally felt this way towards men before, but they were men. Men of his own age and most certainly not skinny, somewhat awkward and annoyingly sarcastic teenagers. That he had come to like Stiles at all, never mind care for him as he did, was a surprise to Derek. At first Stiles simply pissed him off, but now even his more annoying qualities had become endearing: the thought of Stiles in alone and in danger tore at his chest worse than anything he had felt since the loss of his family. But of course, Derek did his best to ignore all of this and prioritized his charge through his home and down the stairs of his apartment building. Upon arriving at the door of his car his phone rang once more, Scott's name appearing on the screen. ''Derek, meet me at the hospital, Stiles's Jeep is there''. With this destination in mind Derek drove to the Beacon Hills Memorial, unsuccessfully forcing the deep-rooted fear of losing yet another loved one from his mind.
Chapter 2:
Derek stood beside Stiles's Jeep, breathing deeply to locate the already familiar scent. He followed it through the hospital until he reached the roof, the small hope that he might find Stiles asleep and dreaming snuffed out in as much time as it took for him to circle the roof once. Derek knew the scent was hours old and Stiles was likely long gone, but that hope had still lingered. Derek was itching to move on, to pick up Stiles's trail and find him. But he had to wait for his Alpha. Derek closed his eyes and tried to think of where Stiles might be, how badly he might be injured and how much longer he could survive on a night as cold as this. Panic and worry ate at him, the feeling of being useless and utterly helpless causing an animalistic growl to escape his mouth. Scott couldn't just move faster? He thought. No sooner than the thought had been formed did Scott's footsteps echo from the stairwell. Finally. ''Did you find him?'' Scott asked.
''He's long gone''.
''Did you check the hospital?''
''Long gone'' Derek emphasised. He was in no mood to baby Scott in that moment, although he would make a truly great Alpha one day Scott still needed the experience that his human life hadn't offered him, and Derek was anything but a patient teacher. ''I did find something though. Have you ever heard of chemo signals?'' Derek paused, though he didn't expect an answer. ''A scent can give off emotion, breathe in and tell me what you can feel''.
Scott obeyed and answered. ''Stress''.
''And anxiety'' Derek added. ''There was definitely some kind of struggle''.
''With who?'' Scott questions.
''Himself''.
Both Derek and Scott spent a moment puzzling over this, but quickly moved on. Scott informed Derek ''Ethan is on his way to collect the Jeep, he's bringing the cables so you stay here and give it a jumpstart. Then see if you can pick up Stiles's trail''. Derek nodded, his jaw clenching in frustration. More waiting. By the time Ethan arrived Derek's temper was nearing its boiling point, but reining it in was preferable to anyone, especially one of the twins, gaining any sense of his true feelings for Stiles through his scent. ''Hey'' Ethan greeted. ''Find anything?''
''Not yet'' Derek replied.
The pair worked in silence, Ethan tossing Derek the jumpstart cables and then lifting the hood of the Jeep. As Derek attached the cables to his own car Ethan spoke. ''So, I overheard Scott talking to Stiles…' he paused at Derek's sceptical glance, then continued ''well, I listened in on them talking and Stiles thinks that he's the one who wrote the message on the board for Barrow. You know, the one telling him to kill Kira?''
Derek registered Ethan's meaning, understanding the logic behind the thought and finding it entirely plausible (assuming Stiles actually did leave the message). In the same instant he also realized what Ethan and Aiden might do to Stiles if they believed him to be a threat, and the urge to protect Stiles took over without so much a heartbeat between the realizations. ''You think Stiles, skinny, defenceless, Stiles…is the nogitsune? A powerful dark spirt?''
Ethan's expression faltered as the ridiculousness of the idea hit him. ''I'm just saying, and I'm not the only one thinking it''
Derek all but rolled his eyes at Ethan, his tone conveying all the necessary disbelief. ''This thing wants to possess someone and it chooses Stiles? Why not possess someone bigger, stronger? Someone with a little more…power…'' Derek trails off, his eyes lowering to the now electrically charged cables in his hands. Ethan, too distracted by his own thoughts, didn't notice the wheels that were now turning in Derek's head.
As soon as the Jeep was drivable Derek peeled off in his own car, calling Kira to have her meet him so that they could go to the power plant where Barrow attempted to murder her. There she walked him through every detail of that night. Together they found Stiles's bat, somehow magnetized to a metal box in the room where Barrow held Kira captive. On the floor there were deep scratches, as though someone had spent several hours testing the magnetic pull of the bat. While attempting to make sense of this Kira received a call from Scott, his relieved voice proclaiming that Stiles had been found and was now at the hospital. This quieted the fearful energy that had kept Derek's mind at work, and the puzzle of the magnetized bat and the possibility of Stiles's possession by a nogitsune faded with the intense relief of knowing that he was safe. Together Derek and Kira returned to the hospital, with Kira choosing to wait outside. Inside Derek found Scott in one of the hospital waiting areas.
''How is he?'' Derek asks.
Scott hesitated before answering, his scent and body betraying whatever false assurance he was about to give. ''What's wrong?'' Derek demanded, with more force than a Beta should use when addressing his Alpha. Scott takes little notice of this, simply replying ''He's okay…''
The relief that those words would have ordinarily brought was delayed, giving Derek the sense of being suspended between two states: one was filled with joy, while the other was filled with concern and fear of what Scott may say next. Scott explained to Derek about Stiles's family history, how his mother passed after her mind was ravaged by frontotemporal dementia… the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers.
For a long while the two of them simply sat quietly, giving Derek time to digest the new information. The thought of Stiles slowly losing himself, trapped inside of his body with no way to regain his mind was inconceivable. The thought alone made him ache to be by Stiles's side, to be there to hold and comfort him even if he would never return his feelings. But then, Derek thought, it's not as if Stiles would ever want me to be the one to comfort him anyway. Despite this, Derek couldn't help wishing that he could go to him. Nor could he help wishing he were still an Alpha and therefore capable of ensuring Stiles would never deteriorate in such a way – even if Stiles would hate him for forcing the Bite upon him. Stiles hating him forever was preferable to watching him fade away.
It wasn't until after Scott broke the silence that Derek was able to put these thoughts aside and focus on his Alpha. In doing so he was led to tell the story of his own family, how the Hales were once the protectors of Beacon Hills. This sparked an idea in Scott's mind and together they raced to the roof, searching for a sign of whatever struggle Stiles had undertook while up there. They found sabotaged electrical wires and the tools Stiles had used to vandalise them, but even as they registered this it was too late. A cable broke free before either one could take a step to prevent the disaster that immediately followed.
Chapter 3:
Two nights later Derek was driving back to his loft after another day of searching for Stiles. On the night of the hospital sabotage several people were injured, including Isaac who was still in the intensive care unit. Stiles disappeared during the surge that caused the hospital's power grid to overload: he just vanished. The thought made Derek's heart constrict painfully. It was clear to everyone that Stiles was the saboteur; the resulting chaos the design of the nogitsune possessing him. And as to where Stiles's might have gone, no one knew. Derek would've given anything to find him, to ensure that he was safe from the Oni, Argent, the twins or anyone else that might harm him. That an evil spirt was in control of Stiles's body made no difference to him. Derek arrived at his loft and made his way inside, only to detect a steady heartbeat from upstairs. Turning his nose to the air he focused his sense of smell, shock holding him in place as the scent registered. He ran up the spiral staircase that opened up directly into his sparsely decorated bedroom. The bathroom door to his en suite directly to the right of his bed, and to its left was a wall of windows. But these things were familiar sights. What was not familiar was the sight of Stiles sitting on his bed. ''Hey, Derek''.
Derek gaped at him for a moment, eyes wide. ''Are you alright!?'' he demanded as he approached the bed. ''What are you doing here?''
Stiles's expression was one of amusement as he spoke. ''We can't pay you a visit?''. The 'we' was a pointed reminder, he wasn't just Stiles anymore: he was a nogitsune.
Derek eyed the short distance between them cautiously, unsure of the danger he might be in. But then the thought occurred to him that this was still Stiles, still a human while he was a much stronger werewolf. ''Stiles…'' he started. ''I don't know what you're doing here but we have to call Scott, he's worried about you. We've all been worried''. Derek pulled his phone from his pocket, about to make the call.
''I can imagine'' Stiles replied. ''But don't call him just yet.'' His eyes seemed to look right through Derek, as though they had never met before, as if he were unimportant. The uncharacteristic coldness in his gaze sent a chill down Derek's spine, it was so unlike the good-natured smartass he had come to know. Derek took a breath, attempting to shake the unease he felt in that moment: it was just Stiles. ''You know I have to.'' He began to scrolling through his phone contacts, searching for Scott's number.
Stiles casually rose to his feet and took half a step forward, the already small space between them shrinking further. Stiles was close enough that Derek could see each and every fleck of colour in his brown eyes, and if either one leaned forward just a little bit they would be close enough to kiss. This made Derek hesitate, his grip on his phone relaxing as his attention was drawn elsewhere. This was all the opportunity the nogitsune needed to reach out and grip Derek's wrist hard enough for the phone to slip through his fingers. Derek gasped in surprise and pain. ''Stiles!?''
Stiles's expression was one of condescending arrogance. ''I told you not to call him'' Stiles drawled, using his grip on Derek's wrist to keep him from backing away. ''Besides, I don't think you want Scott knowing about this''. Derek frowned, about to ask what he meant when Stiles leaned in and kissed him. Stiles's lips were as soft as Derek had often imagined they would be, but the kiss wasn't as sweet or gentle as one might expect from such softness. It began hot and forceful, with Stiles hands reaching up to cup Derek's face to hold him in place. Still Derek attempted to edge back, only for Stiles's lips to follow his own, teasing touches that insisted he part his lips to allow Stiles's tongue better access. Confused by Stiles's advance and unable to think clearly Derek stopped resisting and instead took control of their kiss, letting it to deepen until they were both breathless; only then did Stiles allow their lips to part. It took a moment for Derek to form his question. ''What was that?''.
Stiles let the fingers of his left hand drift to Derek's chest while his other hand moved lower, trailing along his well-muscled body and down to his abdomen, where he almost nervously toyed with the hem of Derek's shirt. ''Didn't like it?'' he asked.
''No, not that'' Derek muttered uncomfortably, he eyes on the floor. ''But why?''
''Because we wanted to'' he replied softly. The use of 'we' again. Derek looked up, his eyes widening. He realised that this was some kind of trick the nogitsune was playing, and however much he might wish for it, Stiles was not in control. ''You're not Stiles''.
Stiles, or rather the spirt controlling him, grinned. ''You already knew that''. Before Derek could react he was shoved onto his bed, landing on his back with Stiles on top of him. Derek tried to roll Stiles off of him, to push him away, but the fox was stronger than a lone werewolf and held him down easily. Stiles reached with one hand for something above Derek's head, dragging one of his wrists upward as well. Whatever Stiles was doing Derek knew he didn't want to find out, and tried to pry Stiles's fingers from his wrist with his free hand. He didn't consider that this might have been to Stiles's advantage. Hidden by the bedding were a set of cuffs on a long chain that had been wrapped around the underside of the bed, the same kind that werewolf hunters like the Argents' used to restrain werewolves, however strong they may be. With both his wrists exposed above his head Derek quickly found himself cuffed to his bed and completely vulnerable. ''What are you doing?'' Derek's voice was panicked, a feeling that grew with each failed attempt to break free. ''Relax'' Stiles murmured, almost soothingly - if not for the spark of glee that appeared in his eye. Stiles caught Derek's jaw with one hand, preventing him from turning his face away as he moved to kiss him again. This time Derek didn't respond, except to squirm beneath Stiles in a pointless attempt to escape. ''Oh, come on Derek!'' the nogitsune whined. ''You know you want to''.
''No, I really don't'' Derek ground out from between his teeth. His head angling upward in an attempt to get a better look at the bindings on his wrists.
Stiles pulled back just enough for Derek to see his eyes roll in a typical Stiles fashion. ''You think I don't know what you've been thinking, Derek?'' he asked. ''That I didn't notice the way that you've been looking at me for months?'' Stiles emphasised the last word by bringing his face closer, the word becoming a whisper. ''I know how you feel about me'', the whisper was mocking now. ''And you can't deny it, not when you kissed us like that''. Derek felt a red flush creeping across his neck even as he continued to pull on the cuffs around his wrists, not caring about the way they cut into his skin. The pain helped him to focus, and allowed him to see what the fox was doing. It wanted him to believe Stiles might be in there, might have control so that he could take that hope away at any given moment: chaos, strife and most importantly, pain. But why create suffering this way?
''You. Are. Not. Stiles.'' Derek snapped. ''Why are you doing this?''
Stiles laughed softly. ''You don't get it yet, Derek. I am Stiles. And I'm the nogitsune. But the part of me that's still me wants to kiss you''. Derek looked uncertainly into Stiles's eyes, desperately trying to find the truth in his words, hoping beyond hope once again that he was still in there. Stiles's expression was kinder now, more like the person that Derek cared for so deeply that his heart ached. The conflicting feelings of hope and doubt paralyzed him, even as Stiles drew closer and his mouth came down on his ever so slowly and gentle. This kiss was as sweet and innocent as a virgin's, the way that Stiles might kiss if it were really him. Derek couldn't tell if it was real or just the trickster playing with his already tangled emotions. He turned his face away, and unlike before Stiles let him. But still he remained close enough to whisper into Derek's ear. ''I want this''. His fingers tangled in Derek's hair, tugging him into a better position so that his throat arched, completely vulnerable. It allowed Stiles's lips to explore, trailing across Derek's neck, planting feather light kisses that made him shiver with pleasure. The flush on his neck became a heat of another kind. Stiles sat up and tugged at Derek's shirt until he had pulled it over his head and draped it over his arms like a second set of restraints. The abrupt reminder of how he was tied had Derek pleading ''Stiles, let me go''. Stiles's hands were at Derek's jeans, unbuttoning them as he asked ''why?''. Stiles slipped his right hand into Derek's boxers, gripping his length. He began to move his wrist slowly, Derek groaning as he began to harden. ''Stiles'' he begged again. ''If this is you, you have to stop''.
''Why?'' Stiles repeated. As Derek opened his mouth to answer Stiles kissed him, slipping his tongue inside to distract and tease him. Then he took Derek's lower lip and bit down just enough to cause pain, but not enough to actually hurt him. Stiles was rewarded for that with a powerful pulsing of Derek's cock, his hips bucking so that he was pressed more firmly against his hand. ''Still want me to stop?''
Derek's hips rocked involuntarily, revealing how badly he wanted it, and at Stiles's continued touch he groaned. ''I can't tell if this is you or the nogitsune!''
Stiles's didn't answer, his lips trailing across the skin of Derek's chest, kissing, licking and sucking his way toward his stomach. His lips hovered there as he removed his hand from Derek's boxers and set to work pulling his pants down just far enough to completely expose him. Derek was now fully erect. Stiles placed his hands on either side of Derek's hips, then let the tip of his tongue run across from Derek's base and along his entire length, with a flick across his sensitive tip. ''You're afraid that Stiles doesn't really want this''.
The nogitsune's words made the haze of arousal clear from Derek's mind, now knowing with complete certainty that this was the fox speaking. A trick had been played, and Derek could already guess the twisted punchline. ''You're right, he would never have wanted to touch you like this. He's been screaming at me this whole time to stop.'' The smug, mocking laughter of the nogitsune drove a knife into Derek's chest. The idea that Stiles was an unwilling participant in this, in every kiss Derek had returned and every touch that his body had responded to was both mortifying and shameful. Even now the nogitsune was still controlling Stiles's hands to hold him in place, and Stiles was likely suffering as he watched someone else abuse his body… But even so, the fox wasn't done playing with either of them yet. Stiles's mouth wrapped itself around Derek's erection, moving rhythmically to maximize the pleasure. ''Get off me!'' Derek yelled. But he couldn't do anything to stop it, couldn't move with the chains and Stiles holding him down. And he couldn't keep himself from enjoying the warm wetness of Stiles's mouth, and it was still Stiles's even with a dark sprit in control of him. Derek had wanted Stiles to touch him like this, thought about it more times than he liked to admit, even to himself. And now, however cruelly and twisted, it was happening. Derek couldn't keep his body from responding, or prevent the explosive orgasm when he came into Stiles's mouth.
When he was finished Derek closed his eyes tightly and turned his face away in an attempt to hide the pathetically weak and pointless tears of humiliation and guilt. Whatever he had just experienced, Stiles was trapped in his own body and unable to prevent any of it. Derek knew that if he hadn't been so relieved to see Stiles, so trusting, then none of it might've happened. It didn't work though, the nogitsune saw and mocked spitefully with Stiles's voice. ''Tears Derek?'' He laughed as he leaned in, licking one of the teardrops from his cheek. Derek remained still, his eyes closed. ''So much pain'' the nogitsune mused. ''We should do this again, but next time I think I'll taste you for desert''. Derek didn't understand what this meant, he had yet to learn that trickster spirits don't simply create chaos, strife and pain, but that they feed on it. From the drawer of the bedside table Stiles withdrew a key to the cuffs, which he then placed in Derek's hand. ''See you around, Derek'' he called wickedly, as he made his way out of the loft. Even once the nogitsune was gone and the key to his freedom was clutched in his hand, Derek didn't move. He didn't dare. He honestly thought that if he moved one inch he would shatter into a million pieces, and his heart along with him.
Chapter 4:
As ever, Derek's method for dealing with complex emotion was to channel it into rage. So upon finding one one of Argent's emitters at his loft the day after the heartbreak of Stiles's visit, his typically short fuse was already one spark away from combustion. He charged blindly into the fox's trap, with both him and Argent finding themselves cuffed publicly at the Sheriff Station. The irony of this situation was not lost on him. The nogitsune trapped and humiliated him twice in as many days, not to mention ensuring his imprisonment with the person he hated most by association with their family name and chosen profession. What's more, the two killers had been framed for a murder they didn't actually commit. Hell of a punchline he thought bitterly. ''Any idea why Stiles would frame us for murder?'' Chris enquired.
''I didn't think Stiles was smart enough to frame us for murder'' Derek said curtly. The last person he wanted to talk to was a werewolf hunter and he hoped his lack of reciprocity would deter him from speaking again.
''To be honest, I'm not entirely convinced that's why we're here''
Derek turned his head, annoyed that Argent would continue to speak, particularly in riddles. Derek was really beginning to hate riddles. ''What do you mean?''
''McCall is going to come out here any minute and probably talk attorneys… Say you've agreed to allow mine to represent you.''
Derek's eyebrows raised in disbelief. ''Why should I trust your attorney?''
Chris's voice became exasperated as Derek's attitude became tiresome. ''Because I'm not calling my attorney yet. I just want more time.''
''To do what?'' Derek asked.
''To figure out what we're really doing here''.
Though it grated at his pride, Derek could understand the hunter's thinking and complied with his request. He gained the smallest amount of satisfaction when Agent McCall gave him a look of annoyance at the inconvenience, at least someone else would be in almost as bad a mood as he was. For the better part of two hours Derek sat in silence, leaving Argent to his puzzling while he tried not to think about the night before. Any cuts and bruises had long healed, but his battered heart was still very much wounded. The largest of those wounds was the guilt he felt for allowing – no, enabling, the fox to do what it did. Had Derek called Scott straight away or been less sure of his own strength then the nogitsune could have never used Stiles like that. Could never have forced Stiles to do the things he did. I should have stopped it Derek reprimanded himself. I should have known it wasn't him… he would never want me that way if he were in control. This filled him with an agonizingly mournful ache, but there were yet more thoughts that plagued him. If the nogitsune knew about his feelings for Stiles, that they had pestered him and grown steadily for months, then Stiles knew too. Had likely known for a while now. To Derek this was further proof that Stiles wouldn't have kissed him if he were himself, and it added further guilt to his conscience, as well as hurt and degradation beyond definition. To feel so strongly for someone who would never feel the same, someone so much younger and so obviously obsessed with Lydia… it was ridiculous and Derek knew it. Loathed it. But he was hopelessly unable to help it. And so he had ignored it as much as possible, but sitting with nothing but his own thoughts to accompany him made that impossible. In a moment of desperation he turned to Chris. ''I could easily get out of these, you know'' He boasted.
''So could I'' Chris replied. ''But I'm not interested in being a fugitive from the law''.
Derek eyed him and the sideways glance that Chris had given him. Was that a deliberate insult? Derek wondered, recalling a time when he himself was a fugitive – thanks to Scott's supposedly clever thinking. ''Well, I'm not interested in being a victim to a seventeen-year-old possessed by a psychotic fox'' he snapped back, mimicking Argent's words with an extra dose of venom.
''Just give me a few more minutes'' Chris asked politely, sensing that Derek would most likely break free in the next five seconds if he agitated him further. But seeing the expression on his face and the way he was eyeing the cuffs, Chris realised that decorum had zero effect. ''Derek!'' Chris's tone was one of authority, the same voice he used on Allison when she felt inclined to disobey him. Derek sighed in response. ''Okay, fine.'' He replied, his voice brimming with irritation. ''But if something happens don't expect me to risk my life trying to save yours''. To further enforce the seriousness of his words he punctuated his last of them with a heated glare. Argent didn't respond, choosing to let it go and leave Derek to simmer, though this did not last long.
Soon after the station burst into a flurry of activity, officers dashing in all directions. One officer, red faced and wild eyed knelt down to unlock Argent's cuffs. ''What's happening?'' Argent asked. The cop didn't answer as he set to work on the other cuffs. For the first time Derek attempted to figure out the nogitsune's riddle, focusing his hearing to locate a voice, a sound, something to give him any indication of what was going on. That was when a ticking noise caught his attention, a sound that was growing faster by the second. He turned his head towards it, spying a parcel on Stilinski's desk and a bullet of ice shot down his spine as he realized exactly what was inside. ''Get down!'' he bellowed, knowing his warning was too late to be of much use. He shoved the officer to the ground and threw himself over Argent just as the bomb exploded. Derek felt shrapnel and broken glass slice through his skin, tearing his back to shreds and embedding itself into his flesh. Later his memory would be muddled, only vaguely recalling standing with Argent's support and the gratitude in his voice for saving his life.
Chapter 5:
Derek spent the rest of the night and much of the next morning healing in one of the stations cells, receiving updates from both Argent and Stilinski about the nogitsune. Apparently, Argent knew of a poison made from wolf lichen that could temporarily supress a nogitsune. Thanks to him and Deaton's administration of the poison Stiles was himself again, if only for a little while. The thought was a bittersweet relief as although Stiles was now himself, without a way to permanently supress, remove or kill the spirt he would soon be taken over once again. While Derek was contemplating this Officer Parish approached his cell. ''The Sherriff wants to see you''. As he unlocked the cell he asked ''are you gonna give me a reason to cuff you?''
''No'' Derek replied.
Parrish took him at his word and led him toward the Sherriff's office. He didn't think to question this until the moment he found himself inside with both the Sherriff and his son. ''Thank you, Parrish'' Stilinski said. ''You can go now''. Derek wished he had that option. Stiles was nervous, his left foot bouncing uncontrollably even as he tapped that same leg with his fingers; his nails were bitten down to stubs. Everything about his manner showed his anxiety. Even without his ability to smell the guilt and discomfort Derek knew exactly what Stiles was feeling. It was also clear to Stilinski, though he did not appear to know anything that had passed between the two of them. He looked between Derek and Stiles with open concern and curiosity before speaking ''I'll give you two a minute, but be quick''.
''Thanks, dad'' Stiles mumbled.
Derek couldn't look Stiles in the eye, and Stiles seemed to struggle with this too as he stared at the ground. They both stayed quiet for a few lengthy heartbeats while they tried to find the words to say. ''Derek'' Stiles began, but Derek cut him off. ''Forget about it'' he commanded.
Stiles looked up from the ground, looking directly at him for the first time since he entered the room. ''I am so sorry'' Stiles's voice was contrite, his words heavily emphasised. The apology bothered Derek, what happened was out of Stiles's control. ''It wasn't your fault, Stiles. You have nothing to be sorry for''.
''Nothing to be sorry for?'' his voice was shocked, still laced with guilt. ''What I did- ''
His continued attempt to apologize, to take the blame, caused Derek's temper to erupt. ''Stiles'' he growled, a hint of his wolf side bleeding into his voice. ''It wasn't your fault'' he repeated. As Stiles opened his mouth to object Derek cut him off for the second time. ''I don't want to talk about it'' he stated, and after a brief pause he added in a much quieter voice. ''Please''. It wasn't the frustration or the explosive anger Derek had shown, or even the desperation in his voice when he pleaded with him that made Stiles stop speaking. It was the expression on Derek's face. Usually the werewolf looked like he was about to bite someone's head off, or sometimes he would wear a sceptical or sarcastic expression. But for the first time Stiles saw one of the strongest people he had ever met look completely and utterly defeated. The fight appeared to have gone from him. Stiles didn't have the words after that and simply nodded. Soon after the Sherriff returned and recalled Parish to escort Derek back to his cell. Relieved, Derek left without a word.
Chapter 5:
Hours later in the passenger seat of his dad's squad car Stiles couldn't keep from obsessively thinking about the look on Derek's face. Though Derek was practiced at disguising his feelings with anger Stiles had been able to see the agony in his eyes. His stomach clenched painfully at the recollection. Stiles's dad noticed his anxious expression and tried to reassure him. ''Son, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. Eichen House might be a good medical facility but you could stay with Scott while I go to L.A.''. Stiles glanced at him, pulled from his reverie. ''Dad, we talked about this''.
''I know son, but you can change your mind''.
Stiles didn't reply, and his dad didn't push him regardless of his own dislike for the idea. Arriving at Eichen House Stiles stood outside its gates, swallowing his apprehension before it could overtake him and he make him back out of his own idea. Before he could fully commit to running the other way he heard a motorcycle pull up behind him: Scott. ''Why didn't you tell me?'' he asked, concern written all over his face. The Sherriff answered him. ''Because we wanted to avoid something like this''.
''It's only seventy-two hours'' Stiles added. As if that could make it much better.
''This is the same place where Barrow came from'' Scott said, his voice growing more disturbed with each word. ''The guy who had a tumour inside him filled with flies''. Scott looked at Stiles and saw this made little difference, so he turned to his father. ''You don't know everything yet''.
''I know enough'' Stilinski replied. ''Nogitsune, kitsunes, oni or whatever they're called''. Stiles pulled a surprised and slightly impressed face. ''No, that's all surprisingly correct'' he commented.
Stilinski ignored his son's classic commentary and continued. ''Scott, I saw an MRI that looked exactly like my wife's, and it terrifies me''. At this Stiles tensed, his nerves acting up again. ''I'm headed down to L.A. tomorrow to talk with a specialist'' he finished.
''Then why are you putting him in here?'' Scott questioned.
''He's not'' Stiles interjected. ''It was my decision''.
''Stiles, I can't help you if you're in here''.
''And I can't hurt you'' Stiles countered.
Scott was grasping at straws at this point. ''Deaton's got some ideas, Argents calling people. We're gonna find something and if we can't…'' Scott paused, unsure how to finish his sentence. But Stiles already knew how. ''If you can't…'' Stiles hesitated to speak, thinking of the life he would have inside of Eichen House if Scott did what he was about to ask. But all his fears were smothered by the memory of what he had done, the people he'd hurt, killed…what he did to Derek. Leaning forward so his dad wouldn't hear he spoke the words. ''If you can't then you have to do something for me, okay? Make sure I never get out''. Stepping back he looked at Scott's torn expression and then to his dad. Seeing his son's face Stilinski spoke. ''Come on''. And together they walked into Eichen House and Stiles checked himself in, fearful that he wouldn't ever make it out again.
Chapter 6:
His first night in Eichen was a sleepless one. Stiles was unable to sleep without his own pillow and had somehow forgotten to pack it, not that he could've slept if he had remembered. He was consumed by all the things he had done. He thought of Isaac still in his coma, the arrow in Coach's stomach and the deputy he had killed. He tormented himself with the look on Scott's face as his hands rotated the katana that the Oni had speared him with. He remembered liking the pain he caused. Most of all he had delighted in the pain he caused Derek…and in the pleasure.
Stiles recalled the first time he noticed Derek looking at him, it was during the Alpha pack fiasco. Derek insisted he could punch through a concrete wall with barely enough room for a guy his size to even move. It didn't seem possible, even for an Alpha werewolf. Derek proved it was by punching Stiles's hand hard enough that his entire body was forced backward with the momentum. It hurt, but while Stiles shook his arm to alleviate the sting of it he caught a glimpse of what seemed to be an apologetic expression in his peripheral vision. It disappeared almost too fast to see, returning to his usual scowl, but it was enough for Stiles to begin to pay a little more attention.
After that he started to notice other things, like the way Derek's mouth would curl in a half-smile whenever Stiles would make a joke or say something sarcastic. He saw that Derek would always attempt to hide it before anyone noticed, and he was always so busy looking away from Stiles that he didn't notice Stiles watching him. And whenever Stiles made fun of him Derek would bristle more than if anyone else did the same. Almost as if he were trying to prove Stiles in particular annoyed him and that he would sooner spend time with Peter than be stuck with him. And then sometimes Derek's eyes would wander when he thought no one was paying attention to him. His gaze would become appreciative, lingering on Stiles's mouth and body as though he were contemplating what he would like to do with it. Derek would always snap himself out of it after a few seconds, his face assuming its usual glower, though usually with a little more oomph.
Stiles could tell that Derek felt something for him, though he couldn't have said what with any conviction until the fox spirt took control of him and set its trap for Derek. He had also realised from the way the wolf acted that he didn't like the way he felt, that he would rather bury his emotions until they died of asphyxiation than let them see the light of day. Stiles respected this, unsure if he was right in his deduction that Derek was in any way attracted to him. Not to mention he was unsure of his own feelings on the matter. The idea made him nervous, as many things in his life did. But what type of nervous? Before, when the idea was just a suspicion he had, Stiles felt flattered. He liked the idea of someone liking him. And he liked Derek, despite his moody and anti-social demeanour. Behind that sourwolf attitude Stiles sensed a beating heart, one he felt tremendous regret in having brutally abused. Logically he could excuse his actions by blaming the dark kitsune possessing him, but he could still recall the satisfaction he took from tormenting Derek. The nogitsune knew exactly what to say and do for maximum effect, and maximum damage. Although, it wasn't just the cruelty Stiles remembered liking. He also liked the kissing. Derek might have been all sharp edges and harsh looks, but when Stiles pulled back after kissing him for the first time Derek's face softened. The grumpy werewolf was practically shy when he was trying to make sense of that first kiss. And later, the way Derek's body trembled beneath him when he ran his lips across his throat made Stiles blush even as he recalled the moment. But none of that matters now Stiles thought. The look on Derek's face that night, the tears… he might not blame me, but he'll never look at me the same way again.
Over the next few days Stiles connected with Malia Tate, becoming more intimate with her than anyone else and then lost himself to the nogitsune once more. The events that followed resulted in the deaths of both Allison and Aiden, the expulsion of the nogitsune from his body and its imprisonment in a box carved from the wood of the Nemeton tree. The fight was over, at least for now, enabling those that survived to move on with their lives. But as Stiles predicted, Derek no longer acted the same towards him, avoiding him at every opportunity. Stiles succumbed to his wishes, attempting to do the same. And not once did he bring up what transpired at Derek's loft, even though not doing so ate away at him daily.
Part 2
Chapter 1:
It was late in the evening and Stiles was driving home in the pouring rain after dropping Scott off, the engine of his Jeep clunking in a way that prophesised its imminent failure. ''Oh, no… No, no, no! Don't do this to me!'' he begged. The old and battered vehicle paid him no mind, its engine sputtering once, twice and then finally giving out. Stiles turned its wheel, using the last of the car's momentum to pull up on the side of the road. The day had been terrifyingly tragic: axe murderers without mouths, a family torn to shreds and a teenage boy traumatised for life. On top of which he was now going to have to pay for yet more repairs on his piece of crap Jeep. He honestly couldn't imagine the day getting any worse. Right up until he looked at his phone and realized it had died sometime between leaving the hospital, taking Scott home and his car craping out on him (again). Without another a soul in sight Stiles clambered out of the Jeep, finding himself instantly soaked as he grabbed his tool kit from the back. Popping the hood he attempted to locate the problem, despite being anything but suited to the task. He worked in the rain tirelessly for about half an hour before the lights of an approaching car blinded him. It took moment for his eyes to adjust and recognize it, as well as its driver: Derek. A jolt of adrenaline shot through his veins, instant nervousness and anxiety polluting his scent. They had barely spoken since the nogitsune possession, unless you counted the time they spent while Derek had been aged backward? Now that had been an interesting experience. It certainly made it easier to be around him, with all their convoluted and confusing history erased from Derek's memory. Derek had seemed happier, or at least as though some of the weight had been liberated from his shoulders along with his memories. Though, somehow Stiles had still ended up being tossed around by the aggressive teen wolf, just like in his first few encounters with Derek after Scott turned. Derek pulled his car up alongside Stiles, the passenger side window coming down so he could speak ''Want a lift?''
Stiles hesitated to reply, all he could think of in that moment was Derek's expression the day he visited him at the Station, before he left for Eichen House. Derek sensed his train of thought and he scowled in response, turning his face towards the road as he spoke. ''Just get in, Stiles'' he barked. Knowing Derek's short fuse was quickly running out Stiles grabbed his stuff from his Jeep and obeyed. ''Thanks'' he said as he closed the door.
''No problem'' Derek replied gruffly.
For a while they drove in silence, until the chattering of Stiles's teeth caught Derek's attention. He observed Stiles's sodden clothes through his peripheral vision and recalled the change of clothes he kept under the passenger seat for emergencies. For a moment he debated offering them to Stiles, the idea of him half naked in his car was far more appealing than it should rightly be and he wasn't entirely sure if such a kindness would stem from pure intentions. But when Stiles's teeth clattered together once more the decision was made for him. ''There's a spare shirt under the seat'' he blurted.
Stiles turned to him, surprised that the typically stoic werewolf would speak at all with all that had happened between them, especially after the weeks spent avoiding each other. ''Uh…'' he gaped. ''I'm fine, b-but thank you''. Stiles flushed at the stutter in his voice, his stupid mouth betraying how cold he was – or perhaps his nervousness? Stiles wasn't quite sure which.
Derek turned his head enough to look at Stiles properly, the redness of his cheeks contrasting with the colour of his lips. He sighed in frustration. ''You lips are turning blue'' he stated. ''Just look under your seat''.
Stiles sucked on his tongue, knowing he could give no other response and was desperately in need of warmth. He promptly dug around in the small space behind his feet, digging out a much too large pair of pants and a T-Shirt. He returned the pants to their original spot but kept the shirt. He glanced at Derek briefly before peeling his shirt of. He dropped it onto his lap, the shirt made a wet flopping sound as it landed. As he tugged Derek's shirt – predictably black – over his head, Derek snuck a peek at Stiles's exposed torso. His eyes, unseen by Stiles, raked over his figure unabashedly. Stiles had changed again, his body becoming less gangly and more defined, though not particularly muscular. The cold and the rain had affected his body, causing his pale skin to break out in goose bumps and his nipples to harden into a dark rosy red. Derek would later daydream about all the things he would like to do with those peaks, how his fingers and tongue would toy and tease if ever he had the chance. Before Stiles could notice his stare Derek quickly returned his eyes to the road. ''Thanks – again'' Stiles mumbled, his face a deeper crimson than before. Being so exposed in front of Derek made him feel a host of emotions, some of which were easily identifiable. First there was guilt, a desperate need to make up for what he had done to Derek while possessed. Then there was the feeling of that guilt swallowing him whole with every missed opportunity to apologize, a thing that Derek would not allow because he refused to discuss any of it. Or anything that wasn't about Kate Argent, Berserkers or the never ending Halloween party that was Beacon Hills. And of course, Derek's needs were more important than Stiles's. He had been the one assaulted and abused. But there were other emotions that Stiles still couldn't quite grasp, like how much he missed being able to feel comfortable around Derek. Or how much he wished they could go back to the way things were before Stiles knew for sure Derek cared for him. 'Cared' being the key word: past tense. Stiles felt that there was no way Derek would still be attracted to him, how could he? The disappointment that Stiles felt over this idea was yet another emotion he failed to understand the meaning of.
For Derek's part, his feelings were quite simple and he had no issues in defining them: he'd been slowly falling for Stiles. His feelings for Stiles had not changed, regardless of what happened with the nogitsune, but being around him had become painful. He felt as if the scars from his broken heart reopened each time he saw Stiles, leaving him with a wound he had no idea how to heal. And the emotion laced in Stiles's scent was all Derek needed in order to see how difficult it was for him as well. Derek felt it was best that he stayed as far away as possible, if only to protect Stiles. Not to mention, there was Malia. Derek had overheard Scott and Stiles talking about how Malia had been staying with Stiles most nights, how they were together. The thought made Derek jealous and he was sure that if he ever caught so much of a glimpse of Stiles with her then whatever hurt he now felt would be a million times worse. But at least Stiles was happy. After everything he'd been through, even before the nogitsune, he deserved to be.
''So, uh...'' Stiles began, needing to fill the silence in the car. ''How's things? Like, everything, you know? Um, how's Kora?'' he babbled.
Derek opened his mouth slightly, then closed it again before finding his voice – he was still preoccupied with the beginnings of a fantasy he would think of in more detail later. ''She's good, still in South America. There's a pack down there so...'' he trailed off unsure what else to say. He hoped Stiles wouldn't ask about him again. Since Kate had temporarily turned him into a teenager his eyes had gone from an icy blue to a sickly pale yellow. Whatever she had done to him had changed him, and he was intent on finding out how to undo it.
''Uh, good! Ah, that's really good then'' Stiles replied with a wince. Couldn't think of anything else to say than 'good'? Stiles thought. Derek already said 'good'. And you just had to say it twice didn't you? He was beginning to wish he were still on the side of the road, in the dark, with the axe murderer. Derek could smell the anxiety and embarrassment rolling off of Stiles in waves, so he brought up the first thing he could think of. ''I never thanked you'' he said.
Stiles looked at him confusedly.
''For Mexico'' Derek elaborated. ''You came for me when I disappeared, so, thank you''.
Stiles blinked at him and then smiled slightly, his body relaxing a great deal. ''You'd have done the same for me''.
''Yeah'' Derek replied. ''But, thank you'' he mumbled awkwardly.
Stiles noticed his discomfort, smiling a little wider at the role reversal. Normally he was the one who felt at ill ease. ''You're welcome, Derek. Though…'' he paused. Derek tensed, unsure of what he was about to add. ''The next time you take a nap in a Mayan Temple do you think you could choose one closer to home? My dad would probably have an aneurism if I went out of state again'' he joked. His reward was a slight tugging at the corner of Derek mouth, a smile almost taking shape. But even without a real smile Derek's face still took on a softer look, his eyes giving away his more relaxed mood. It warmed Stiles's heart, a gentle glow raising his body temperature and easing his nerves. The drive home became easier after that, the two of the sitting in a much more comfortable silence than before. When they arrived Stiles thanked Derek again for the ride, walked inside and greeted Malia with a kiss. It was only when she asked about his shirt that he remembered he was still wearing Derek's.
Chapter 2:
A couple of days later Stiles's Jeep was repaired (if not fixed) and he was loitering outside of Derek's apartment building. ''Okay Stiles, you're just here to return a frickin T-shirt'' he reassured himself. ''It's no big deal, just like ripping off a Band-Aid… you just gotta go in there and do it.''
His neurotic nature had him tapping his fingers on the hood of his Jeep, his leg twitching uncontrollably. ''Oh for God's sake'' he muttered, forcing himself to take a step forward, then another, until he quickly found himself at Derek's door much too soon for his own liking. He knocked on the door only to get no answer, so he tested the handle and the door slid open. He stepped inside thinking that he could leave the shirt on the couch or the coffee table or somewhere, and then get the heck out of there. Being in the loft gave Stiles too vivid flashbacks of the last time he had been there. As he walked through to the back of the room he froze at the sight of Derek stretched out on the couch, napping. For a second he stood there unsure of what to do. He could creep forward and leave the shirt on the table, or he could back out slowly and try again another day. Neither option was a prospect he relished. Maybe I could just throw it and run? He wondered idly. Realizing that would be an even worse decision he moved as quietly as he could towards Derek. Just as he reached the coffee table and placed the shirt he heard a groggy voice mumble, ''Stiles?'' Looking down he saw Derek's sleepily surprised face staring up at him. ''What are you doing here?''
Stiles instantly panicked. ''I – uh… your shirt! I borrowed it the other night and I thought – well, I figured that maybe you might want it back and so, I, uh…brought it?'' He ended his sentence as if it were a question, the narrowing of his eyes as he tried to make sense of it himself making it obvious that he wasn't sure what exactly he was even saying. Derek didn't mind his babbling, Stiles was a welcome sight after waking. ''Thank you for that by the way and uh, sorry for disturbing you'' Stiles added.
Derek sat up, looking at Stiles with amused eyes. So much of Derek's emotions were conveyed by his eyes, Stiles noticed. ''Its fine, Stiles'' Derek assured. ''What time is it?'' he asked.
Stiles looked at his phone. ''1:30''.
Derek's eyebrows raised. ''Shouldn't you be in school?'' He stood up, stepping around Stiles to walk to the kitchen. Stiles followed behind him.
''I have a free period''
Derek nodded as he began rooting around inside the fridge. ''You hungry?'' he asked. His nap had left him in an unusually good mood, and for once Stiles didn't reek of stress and anxiety just from being around him. At the mere mention of food Stiles's stomach grumbled, causing Derek to glance at him with laughter in his eyes. This, more than his hunger, made Stiles want to stay. ''Yeah, I could eat''. And with that Derek set to work grabbing everything he needed for a meal. Occasionally he would pass Stiles something to chop or direct him to the cutlery, but beyond that Stiles simply stood and watched Derek's practiced movements as he whizzed round his kitchen. The resulting dish was better than Stiles would have guessed Derek to be capable of until tasting it. ''Oh, wow'' he sighed happily around a mouthful of food. ''This is really good''.
Derek didn't react much except to say ''Glad you like it''.
''No, seriously Derek. I had no idea you could cook''. Stiles looked at him with a boyish charm, too easily impressed in Derek's opinion.
Derek scoffed. ''I am an adult Stiles, I know how to cook''. Derek's words held a double meaning, meant only for himself. Stiles was much younger and less experienced in almost everything, from simple things like cooking, to other things that Derek knew were best not to think about.
But Stiles had come to know Derek better than either of them had expected upon their first meeting, and he detected the meaning hidden in his words. For a moment he wondered at Derek's feelings for him, but quickly pushed those thoughts aside as Malia's face jumped to the forefront of his mind. Feeling guilty, he returned to the conversation. ''Well, so do I'' he retorted. ''But that doesn't make me any good at it''.
Derek rolled his eyes, deciding to accept the praise rather than continue to debate his entirely average cooking ability. ''I'll teach you sometime'' he replied non-committedly.
But Stiles looked up, almost excited. ''Really?'' he grinned. ''You can teach me to make this?''
Stiles's enthusiasm took Derek by surprise, so much so that he agreed without thinking. ''Sure'' he promised.
When they finished their meals Derek told Stiles to head back to class, but Stiles insisted on helping him to clean up. Having enjoyed having Stiles to himself without scenting any unpleasant emotions coming from him, Derek was reluctant to see Stiles leave and did not argue. Though later he would wish he had. As they dried the last of the plates Stiles found himself thinking about how much better things had been between them in the last couple of days. And he thought about how maybe, just maybe, Derek might be able to talk about what happened. Impulsively, he opened his mouth to speak. ''Derek?''
''Hmm?''
''Why don't you hate me?'' Stiles asked quietly.
Derek went completely still.
''Derek?'' Stiles asked softly.
Derek took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. ''Don't, Stiles''. His words were punctuated by the clatter of a plate as he placed it roughly on to the kitchen counter.
''I know you don't want to talk about it-''
''That's right, I don't'' Derek interrupted. He'd begun to clench his jaw, his teeth grinding together.
''But-'' Stiles persisted.
''It wasn't your fault, Stiles!'' Derek shouted, his patience abruptly gone.
''Saying it wasn't my fault doesn't make it true!'' He retorted. ''I can remember everything I did, Derek. I can remember-''
Derek cut him off again, but this time with a vicious growl. ''For fucks sake, Stiles! I don't care!'' he hissed. The venom in his voice shocked and surprised Stiles, Derek's choice of words somehow wounding him. ''Whatever you remember, it wasn't you. So just stop blaming yourself, and stop making it my problem''.
At that Stiles didn't know what to say; couldn't speak past the lump in his throat. He just swallowed his hurt as best he could, walked past a still seething Derek and left.
Chapter 3:
The next time they saw each other was on the night of the scrimmage with Devonford Prep, when one of the players was poisoned with a rare wolfsbane. They were both still a little pissed off with each other: Derek at Stiles for pushing the conversation, and Stiles at Derek for behaving like a jerk. They proffered sour looks and sarcastic comments at one another before going their separate ways. Stiles didn't understand why Derek had upset him so badly, why it mattered so much. He remained stubbornly angry with him, regardless of fact that he had gone against his own intentions to stand by Derek's wishes and avoid the subject of the nogitsune, Derek's feeling and anything else relating to that awful night. By contrast, Derek was simply angry. At Stiles, yes, but mostly at himself. However hard he tried he was unable to shake his attraction to Stiles, he couldn't rid himself of his feelings or erase the fact that Stiles knew he had them. It was frustrating, a feeling made worse whenever Stiles would speak of anything that related to it. And while the nogitsune had degraded and humiliated him, Stiles had been made to suffer that experience with him. All because he couldn't put his emotions into their proper place to begin with. The guilt of this fuelled Derek's anger and self-loathing most of all.
Late that night, after helping Stiles and Deaton save the life of the poisoned wolf, Derek returned home. His mind filled with thoughts of the deadpool, professional assassins and as ever, Stiles. In an attempt to work through his emotions he spent the rest of his evening accompanied by loud music and exercise. He was interrupted by a knock at his door. Still shirtless, he answered.
Stiles stood on his doorstep, his lips parting in surprise when he saw Derek's bare chest. Stiles's eyes quickly darted away. ''Can I come in?'' he asked, though the question seemed to be addressed to the floor.
''It's late, Stiles.'' Derek's voice was monotone, devoid of emotion. He was too tired of his never ending emotional turmoil to deal with whatever new feeling this was about to bring. Stiles looked up at Derek's face, a slight redness to his cheeks as his eyes grazed over Derek's chest. Or am I imagining that? Derek wondered. Must be. ''Please?'' Everything about Stiles, from his eyes to his voice, was pleading. Derek couldn't refuse. He stepped aside to allow Stiles to pass.
Stiles took a moment to choose his words. ''I'm sorry I pushed you to talk about…everything.'' Derek watched him through narrowed eyes, frowning as he waited for Stiles to finish. ''But – ''
Derek interrupted. ''It. wasn't. you''. His words were clipped, giving each one additional weight.
''Derek, would you just listen to me!?'' Stiles begged. His brown eyes filling with desperation. Taking Derek's silence as an answer he paused, dragging his right hand through his hair. ''It wasn't just the nogitsune'' he continued, completely ignoring Derek's deepening scowl. ''I…I wanted to'' he admitted. Derek sighed, about to speak when the look on Stiles's face caught him off guard: a mix of relief and shame. ''A lot of the things I did, I would have never done, so it wasn't really me. I know that. But some things… it was like the fox knew how I felt, knew what I wanted before I did and it made sure I got it. Just… it made me do things in a way that made me hate myself'' he confessed. ''Like it was his idea of an ironic joke.''
Derek looked at Stiles, at how he was glancing away, focusing on his hands and wringing them together anxiously. His leg had begun to bounce, a sign that he was really, really consumed by his nervousness. Derek couldn't understand what he was trying to say so he asked. ''What do you mean?''
Stiles looked met his eyes directly for half a heartbeat, his face clearly asking him to understand, to grasp what he was trying to say before he broke their eye contact. ''Stiles?'' Derek asked, moving a little closer in concern. He could see Stiles's Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.
''I wanted to, Derek'' he whispered, his eyes lowered. The redness Derek had seen in Stiles's face earlier had become a deep crimson, and the pieces of what Stiles had been saying clicked together. He didn't need him to explain further, but Derek's lack of response prompted Stiles to do so anyway. ''Upstairs. When we – when I... I wanted to…'' Stiles stuttered to a stop, then continued in a mumble. ''Please, just say something''.
Derek struggled to find his voice. Stiles had wanted to kiss him, wanted to be with him like that. The fox knew and twisted his desire to hurt the both of them. The joy he felt knowing this was eclipsed only by his curiosity. ''Why are you only telling me this now?'' he asked.
Stiles dared to meet Derek's gaze once more. ''Because I only just figured it out''. Stiles looked away quickly, afraid to see Derek's reaction, unsure of what he was wishing for. Derek stepped even closer, the last time they had been so close was when they were upstairs in Derek's bedroom. ''Stiles, look at me''. His voice was soft, soothing even. Stiles had never heard Derek talk like that before and so he couldn't help but glance towards him. Their eyes met and then Derek carefully tucked his fingers under Stiles's chin, angling it upward. Then he pointedly let his own eyes flicker to Stiles's mouth, wordlessly asking for his permission. When Stiles didn't back away he leaned in slowly, giving him plenty of time to change his mind. Stiles didn't, holding breathlessly still as Derek leaned in. He kissed him hesitantly at first, but became emboldened as he realised that Stiles truly wanted it. His kiss became more passionate, his tongue slipping into Stiles's mouth and his arms wrapping around Stiles's slender body to draw him closer. Stiles's hands found their way to the nape of Derek's neck, tangling in his hair. Still, it was Stiles who broke the kiss by pressing a hand to Derek's still unclothed chest. Derek could hear Stiles's heartbeat, it pounded even louder than his own. ''Was that okay?'' he asked, just to be sure Stiles was alright.
''Mm-hmm'' Stiles mumbled. ''Yeah, uh, yes…I just, well, there's something else I gotta tell you – it's actually, ah, the reason I came here''.
Derek pulled back just enough to get a better look at Stiles's face, but he didn't let go of him. ''I was with Lydia tonight'' Stiles explained. ''We were trying to figure out the 3rd cipher key and we cracked it.'' Stiles looked down before continuing, causing Derek to worry. ''She and I got to thinking that the code was written by a Banshee, so maybe the cipher wasn't the name of someone already dead, but someone who would be…''
Derek had a really bad feeling about this…
Stiles's fingers curled anxiously around the blackthorns of Derek's hair and said ''your name broke the final 3rd of the list''.
Derek thought this over for a moment, considering the way he had been losing his werewolf abilities ever since Kate buried him alive at La Iglesia. Did that mean he was dying? This information gave Derek a certain clarity, if he truly was about to die, then that made the present even more important. It also made him realise what triggered Stiles's sudden revelation. ''You only realised how you feel about me because you think I'm about to die'' he stated.
Stiles tensed, thinking that he had upset him. But before he could speak he found Derek's lips on his, the kiss even more heated than his first. Derek nudged Stiles backward, guiding him to the couch without breaking the kiss. It was only when Stiles lost his balance as the back of his legs connected with the couch that Stiles had a chance to speak. ''Derek what are you-?'' he didn't get to finish his question, as Derek caught him by surprise by giving him a small shove onto the couch. Even so, Derek knew what he wanted to ask and answered as he knelt between Stiles's legs and leaned in to kiss him again. ''I'm making the most of whatever time I have''. And Derek did his damnedest to live up to that statement. As they kissed Derek put all his weight onto his left arm, and with his right he explored Stiles's body. He began by gripping Stiles's hip, manoeuvring him so that their bodies were pressed together more comfortably. Then he let his hand glide upward and under Stiles's shirt, catching the fabric between his thumb and forefinger so that the higher his hand climbed, the more of Stiles was revealed. As he lifted the shirt Derek simultaneously began to leave a trail of kisses along Stiles's jaw to his throat. Stiles fidgeted beneath him, his eyes closing and head tilting back in pleasure even as his nerves and neuroticism got the best of him. With that the temptation to tease him became too much for Derek, he wanted to make Stiles's already fluttering heart beat even faster. Derek's tongue lashed out, leaving a wet trail that chilled Stiles's throat and made him gasp. Then Derek sucked and kissed the now hypersensitive spot, before nipping playfully at his neck. This made Stiles's fingers grip the couch before he jerked his neck away with a soft moan. ''Derek''.
A satisfied smirk broke out across Derek's face at the sound of his name. He liked the way it sounded in Stiles's mouth. He moved to kiss Stiles some more, planning on toying with his bottom lip. Until Stiles blurted a single name: ''Malia''.
Derek drew back, his happiness drained.
''I… care about her, Derek.'' Stiles murmured. Derek moved to climb off of Stiles but found his arm held in place by Stiles. ''I really care about her'' he repeated. Derek could hear the sincerity in his voice, see the love in his face and his heart deflated. Stiles clearly wanted him to stay where he was, and he didn't really want to leave. Especially if he wouldn't be able to hold him like this again. Derek closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Stiles's body pressed against his. ''Why come here, Stiles?'' he demanded. ''Why tell me any of this and then just –'' Derek bit back his own words, unable to finish speaking. He pushed himself away from Stiles, ignoring the way Stiles's grasp tightened on his arm in an attempt to hold him close. ''Derek, wait – please?'' Stiles implored. He didn't have to: Derek didn't have the will to separate himself from Stiles completely. He stayed where he was on the couch beside Stiles, running his hands through his hair as he demanded ''How do you feel about me Stiles?''
Stiles spluttered, having no idea what to say. But with Derek waiting expectantly he knew he had to answer. ''Malia is… It's not about you Derek, its –''.
Derek's head snapped around, his sickly yellow wolf eyes burning at Stiles's poor choice of words. ''Not about me?'' he growled. He tugged Stiles towards him, kissing him roughly. ''Is this, not about me?'' Stiles was able to retreat a mere inch, perhaps two, before Derek recaptured his jaw in one of his large hands. Derek's mouth came down on his, his lips a little gentler than before. ''Don't fuck with me Stiles'' he pleaded, letting his forehead rest against Stiles's. ''Just be honest with me.''
Stiles felt conflicted: torn between two people he cared about. First there was Malia, a girl he could honestly say he loved. But then, there was this. Whatever Derek was. It felt different than with Malia, more instinctive and wilder. Strange, considering Malia had lived as a Coyote for half of her life.
While Stiles debated and scolded himself for getting himself into this mess Derek revelled in their closeness, already knowing what Stiles would decide. ''I can't just betray her''. Stiles spoke the words quietly, as though that would somehow negate the hurt his choice brought. For a long moment they simply stayed like that, cradling each other in an almost-kiss. Until Derek sighed. ''You should go'' he whispered.
And he did.
Chapter 4:
Immediately after returning home from Beacon Hills High School Stiles flopped down onto his bed, wishing he could go back in time and undo the past few weeks. Or at least warn himself not to be such an idiot. The events of that day had been brutal, almost as bad as the day Alison was killed. First there was the SAT panic, which fine, it's a normal high school student's problem so in many ways it was a welcome change of pace. But then, there was the biologically engineered super virus designed to kill werewolves. From there things just escalated: being infected, hiding supernatural beings, almost dying for the thousandth time and then, the biggest blow to his heart: Malia seeing her name on the deadpool and realising that they had all been keeping a major secret from her. That even Stiles had lied to her. The look in Malia's eyes when she looked at Stiles… he knew then that he had lost her. Everyone, including the person she trusted the most, had allowed her to believe she was Malia Tate rather than admit that she was Peter's daughter. A Hale by blood and rightfully by name.
Stiles pulled his phone from his jeans and hit the call button, hoping that this time Malia would answer. She didn't. He left another desperate voicemail, soon following it with an apologetic text. He stayed in bed for hours, alternately checking his phone, calling and then texting Malia with a single minded focus. He waited and waited for a response that would never come, until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon and its fading light lulled him to sleep.
Chapter 3:
A few short hours later Stiles awoke to full dark and a tapping sound at his window. Blurry eyed he dragged himself up from his bed to investigate the sound. He was instinctively reaching for the baseball bat on the floor when he realised Derek was the one knocking. Derek slipped his claws through the miniscule gap between the window and its frame, wedging their pointed tips in the middle so that he could force the window open. The lock had long since broken, the window rusted shut so that no one should have been able to open it. Except a werewolf, apparently. I have got to get that fixed Stiles thought.
Derek gripped the upper frame and lifted his body, effortlessly propelling himself feet first through the window. He landed with more grace than a man of his stature should have been capable of and Stiles couldn't help but admire the finesse of his movements. ''What are you doing here?'' he asked.
''I heard about the school… and about Malia'' Derek replied. Derek looked at him with discomfort and concern etched into every corner of his face. Derek knew he shouldn't be there, that their relationship was much too complicated to for him to be the right person to comfort Stiles, but his impulse to comfort Stiles overrode his own logic. ''I thought you might need a friend''.
Stiles recognized the earnest look in Derek's eyes and his slight emphasis of the word 'friend' as Derek's genuine attempt to be there for him, despite recent days. The realization calmed him, allowing him to be in the wolf's presence with less anxiety. However, his guilt increased tenfold as he considered the kindness that Derek offered and compared this to the heartbreak he had given him in return. Derek could smell these feelings in Stiles's scent, hear the beating of his heart change tempo even as Stiles's stomach cramped with a new wave of emotion. Derek made his way across Stiles's bedroom in a few short strides and sat shoulder to shoulder with Stiles on his bed. Stiles toyed with his fingers, using them as a distraction from his feelings and from Derek's warmth beside him. After a short silence Stiles mumbled. ''You didn't have to come here''.
Derek watched Stiles from the corner of his eye, knowing he would feel the weight of his stare if he looked at him directly. ''I know'' Derek murmured back. ''I just… wanted to check on you''. Words had never come easily to Derek, he preferred to act rather than speak. This had often aided him, but now his innate nature crippled him, preventing him from finding the words to ease Stiles's heart. He couldn't help but peek at Stiles, needing to truly see him. The elevation of Stiles's heartbeat made him tear his eyes away quickly. Derek knew he had made him even more nervous.
Stiles had mixed emotions about Derek being so close, panic being the most prominent of those. But in the midst of that he also wished the werewolf were even closer. Stiles craved the comfort Derek was more than willing to give, in whatever form Stiles wanted it. Consciously he had made the decision to be with Malia, but now she would not have him and Stiles knew it. Malia had no notion of ideas such as lies, betrayal or forgiveness while she lived as a coyote. So as a human she had little practice with, nor use for, any of those very human concepts. She would never forgive him because she did not know how. This belief hollowed out his chest, his ribcage made empty and all but useless.
Stiles tried to pull himself from thoughts of Malia, the heartache was too much for him to bear. ''Thanks for being here, Derek''.
Derek nodded, reaching out to grasp Stiles's leg just below his knee as he spoke. ''You're welcome''.
Stiles looked at Derek's hand on his leg for a beat, then impulsively placed his hand over Derek's. This small comfort caused Stiles's loss to well up inside of him, his resolve to remain calm as possible breaking. As a lump formed in his throat he buried his head against Derek's shoulder, tears already beginning to fall. Derek turned his body towards Stiles, wrapped his arm around him and tugged him closer. Stiles ended up with his face pressed against Derek's chest, with Derek's fingers gently tracing spirals on the back of his neck. Derek's free hand curved around Stiles's body, holding him as Stiles sobbed quietly as he could.
Even after his tears had abated Stiles remained in Derek's arms.
Part 3
Chapter 1:
Derek sat at a Seattle bar drinking alone, just as he preferred. It had been years since he'd returned home, he knew it was in safe hands with Scott as pack Alpha. In fact, the last time he had set foot in Beacon Hills Scott was still in High School. Scott was now 24 and working part time at the veterinarian clinic, still studying to become a qualified vet. His progress was slow, but then judging by the occasional phone calls the pack had been busy. Djinn, Valkyries and the occasional challenge to his leadership had curbed his ability to commit to his day job, though luckily for him Deaton was more than forgiving when it came to Scott's other commitments. Scott's calls also meant that Derek had been able to keep tabs on Stiles's life. Stiles had made it into an FBI training programme with the help of Agent McCall, which of course, he excelled in. Stiles always had a knack for puzzles, and it was quickly recognized by his superiors. Rumour had it that despite being a rookie he was already consulting on high profile cases. Scott rarely mentioned anything more in-depth than the basic facts of their day to day lives, which was fine by Derek – mostly. The one thing he always found himself wondering after his call was whether or not Stiles was seeing anyone. It was a foolish thought, but Derek could never quite stop himself from wondering. Though he and Stiles hadn't seen each other in years, hadn't shared anything more after that last kiss when Stiles and Lydia cracked the final 3rd of Meredith's deadpool, Derek still thought of Stiles. Thought of kissing him, holding him… and of other more sinful things. There we even times when he thought of the nogitsune's possession of Stiles, and of Stiles's mouth wrapped around him. Derek knocked back what was left in his glass, halting that train of thought before it could get too far out of hand. He ordered another round, deciding that it would be his last before returning to home. He was still nursing his drink when he caught a scent. It was clearly a werewolf, one that Derek did not recognize. But the somehow the scent of this wolf in their human form was strangely familiar, as was the scent of their surprised nervousness.
''Derek?'' An easily identifiable voice asked.
Derek's eyes widened as he whirled to face Stiles. He had grown since Derek last saw him, he was slightly taller now but his shoulders had widened to better match his height. He no longer resembled the awkward, gangly teenager he used to be. He was a man now. Not to mention, a werewolf.
For a moment they gaped at each other, and it wasn't until the young woman behind him asked ''you two know each other?'' that Derek even noticed that Stiles wasn't alone. The woman had long dark hair, neatly pulled back behind her. There was also a blonde guy standing beside her. They both smelled human and looked to be about Stiles's age. ''I – yeah'' Stiles began, a smile breaking out across his face. ''Would you guys give me a minute?'' he asked.
''Sure, we'll grab a table.'' Blondie replied.
Stiles pulled up a bar stool beside Derek and ordered a drink. ''Do you want one?'' he asked. Derek lifted his half empty glass in response ''I'm good, thanks''. Derek waited until the bartender had moved out of hearing distance before he spoke. ''Scott bit you?'' He demanded.
Stiles winced at Derek's tone. ''Ah, yeah''
''When?''
''In college'' Stiles muttered.
''Why he didn't say anything about it?'' Derek growled. So much for Scott's calls being enough to keep tabs on Stiles's life. Scott turns him into a God damned werewolf and doesn't even mention it.
''It wasn't supposed to be a secret.'' Stiles explained. ''It's just that I didn't want to go around telling people, I just figured I'd let people know when I saw them''. Stiles rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. ''And, well… I'm only just seeing you'' he finished sheepishly.
''You should have told me'' Derek glowered at him.
Stiles met his glare head-on, showing a degree of confidence that Derek didn't recall him having before. ''Sorry.'' He said earnestly. The genuine ring of his apology had the intensity Derek's scowl returning to his usual level of annoyance. Stiles couldn't help but laugh. ''You're still such a sourwolf'' he teased lightly.
Derek's eyes narrowed slightly, much to Stiles's amusement. Derek could smell Stiles's emotions clearly, mingled with his humour was slight case of anxiety but mainly joy. Stiles's was happy to see him, if a little nervous about it. As he read Stiles's chemo signals he realized that Stiles would know how to read his emotions as well. This idea unnerved him, he didn't like the idea of Stiles being able to guess what he was thinking so easily. Especially when just moments ago he had been thinking of –
Shit, don't think about it Derek thought. He gulped his drink before launching himself into the conversation, asking Stiles ''what are you doing here?''
''Did Scott tell you I'm an Agent now?'' He asked. Apparently, it's one of the few things Scott told me Derek thought. When Derek nodded curtly in response Stiles added ''Well, I've been offered a position at the field office here so I'm actually here to look around. I'm thinking of moving here.''
Derek stared at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. ''Wow, Stiles. That's great!''
''Yeah, thanks. What about you? What are you doing here?'' Stiles inquired.
''I've been here for a couple of months. I was with Kora for a little while, spent some time with her pack but it wasn't really for me.''
''So, that's why you came out here? To be a lone wolf for a while?'' Stiles asked.
''Pretty much.''
For a brief moment there was quiet. Until Stiles asked softly ''would you mind just one more wolf being around?''
Derek spoke to his almost empty glass. ''I don't mind''. Derek glanced towards Stiles's human friends, who were both watching them from across the room. Finishing his drink and moved to stand, and Stiles stood up with him. ''It was good to see you, Stiles'' he said, grasping his shoulder as he walked by. He didn't wait for Stiles to reply, he just escaped into the crisp night time air and did his best not to think about the way Stiles smiled when he called him a 'sourwolf'.
Chapter 2:
A few weeks later Derek got a call from an unknown number. Although a part of him suspected that the unknown caller would be Stiles, he chose to ignore the intuitive part of his mind in favour of uncomfortable surprise. It was better than getting his hopes up for nothing. ''Hey, Derek, it's me. I got your number from Scott, hope that's okay?''
''Yeah, it's fine. What's up?'' Derek couldn't decide if he preferred to talk to Stiles in person or over the phone. At least over the phone Stiles wouldn't be able to read his chemo signals, but later Derek would realise how unsatisfied he was left by the call. He wanted to be with Stiles, hearing his voice wasn't quite enough.
''Oh, nothing bad. It's just that I got to Seattle a couple of days ago and some friends of mine insisted that I throw a house warming party. It's in a few days but I was wondering if you'd wanna come?''
Derek thought about that proposal. Firstly, it was a party. Secondly, it would be a bunch of strangers. Human strangers. But then, all those scents might also be enough to disguise his own scent from Stiles, letting Derek be around him without having to struggle so much to keep his emotions in check. Or my inappropriate thoughts Derek contemplated.
''Derek?'' Stiles prodded.
Derek reacted on impulse, halfway hating the words that came out of his mouth even as he said them. ''Sure, what's your address?''
Chapter 3:
Three days later Stiles was preparing for his housewarming. He didn't know a lot of people in Seattle so it was mostly work colleges and a couple of friends from when he was still a cadet at the FBI Academy. And Derek. The thought made Stiles's skin itch like when he was first learning to control the shift. The wolf part of him experienced his anxiety differently. Instead of wanting to hide like his human instincts, the wolf wanted to run, to chase and hunt, and to find the thing that made him feel so jittery and put it in its place. The wolf wanted to make Derek submit to him, rather than be made to feel so out of control. It was a strange paradox of power and powerlessness, and Stiles wasn't sure which he liked more. He wondered if it was the same for Derek. Just a few short weeks ago Stiles smelled Derek's nervousness for the first time in that bar, he knew Derek was aware of it and could feel his desperation to get away. Derek didn't like being seen so clearly. Vulnerability was an unusual feeling for him, even with people he cared for, feeling such weakness unnerved him. It was strange to realise that even someone as strong as Derek would feel the need to hide away.
Stiles found himself thinking of how frightening Derek had seemed when they first met. Derek was always so angry, still was most of the time, only now Stiles could see the person behind that wall he had so carefully erected around himself. Derek's aggression was meant to keep everyone at arm's length, and to hide how lonely he had become since the loss of his pack. Not Boyd and Erica, but his original pack: the Hale's. Stiles understood how such a profound loss could shape a person, could imagine the fear Derek probably felt at the thought of losing anyone else. It was easy to see how pushing people away was preferable to the possibility of that pain, even if the loneliness threatened to crush him.
The thought made Stiles's heart ache for him. He wanted to see Derek, to be there for him even if their friendship had a complicated history. He tried not to think about it, but their complicated past only increased his desire to be with him. He remembered how Derek comforted him when Malia learned she was a Hale. For such a sourwolf he could be so gentle. Stiles absent-mindedly brushed his fingers across the back of his neck, his fingers unconsciously dancing in the same spiral pattern Derek had traced all those years ago. A knock at the door broke Stiles out of his reverie, the harsh noise bringing him back to his senses. He sniffed the air curiously and found himself disappointed when he smelled a human instead of a wolf.
Chapter 4:
By the time Derek arrived at Stiles's apartment the party was in full swing. He could smell the intoxicated breath of several humans from the other side of Stiles's door. He wondered if it was too late to turn around and call Stiles tomorrow morning. If he got lucky, Stiles would be too hungover to answer his phone and he could just leave a message. Derek's jaw clenched in frustration. Why did I agree to this? He wondered. I should have just arranged to meet him somewhere else. But then, Derek wasn't sure he could control himself even in a crowd. If he were alone with Stiles he was certain that his thoughts would venture into those more suited to the bedroom. And now that Stiles could read his emotions clearly there would be no hiding his feelings. In a ridiculous crowd, full of drunk, stinking humans asking him personal questions was the only way he'd be able to be around Stiles without him being able to read his desires. Aside from developing a modicum of self-control, this was Derek's only option.
Steeling himself, he knocked at the door. Stiles answered a moment later, a smile lighting up his face. ''You came!''
''I wouldn't miss it.'' Derek replied.
Chapter 5:
Stiles knew Derek had been outside for a little while, likely glowering at the front door as if it were to blame for the loud ruckus coming from inside the threshold. Derek didn't let his discomfort show though, plastering on a charming smile for anyone who spoke to him. Which seemed to be everyone, especially the women. All of a sudden our quaint little hometown of Beacon Hills was the most interesting topic of conversation. Closely followed by questions about Derek's career, family and upbringing. The latter of which melted the hearts of everyone in the room. Hearing that his entire family passed in a tragic fire when he was still a teenager had more than one manicured hand reaching out to comfort his muscular biceps. The arousal in the room was practically palpable, and Stiles wanted to growl at them, or at the very least pry their hands off of him. His one piece of solace that night came from the exasperated expression on Derek's face when Stiles's former classmate Leah 'drunkenly' grabbed his ass. For a few minutes afterwards the room reeked of envy. Everyone knew Leah had a divine moment of inspiration, realizing that an inebriated state would allow her to cop a feel and be instantly forgiven for her behaviour on account of her 'inability' to control her 'playfulness'. Being peer pressured into drinking water for the rest of the night was a small price to pay for her cunning, judging by the scent of her self-satisfaction.
As the night wore on the shenanigans grew increasingly ridiculous. Wherever Derek was in the room you could be sure that at least three girls would be vying for his attention, usually, Leah, Danica and Tori.
Stiles could see Derek's patience wearing thinner and thinner, and even he had begun to reach his limit of watching the girls fawn over him. Eventually, it was time for him to officially declare the party was over, lest one or both wolves lost control and literally bit someone's head off. Probably Leah, after that prank she pulled Stiles thought. As the guests began to clear out, a few stragglers hung back, hovering around Derek.
''So, Derek…'' Leah began.
''We were wondering if you had any plans for the rest of tonight?'' Danica interrupted.
Tori gazed at him from Danica's side, innocently twirling her hair as if she were too nervous to speak to him directly. This was an act, of course. Half a dozen others had thrown themselves confidently into the fray only to be overlooked and consequently forgotten. Tori seemed to be trying to stand out in a less obtrusive way. If Derek were human and unable to smell the lack of anxiety in her scent, he might have fallen for the act. Actually, I'd bite Tori Stiles thought as he watched her perform.
Derek could see where the humans were headed with their chosen line of questioning, and he really didn't like it. He had tried to be polite all evening for Stiles's sake, but these insipid women were pissing him off and he was about to explode. Just as he opened his mouth to snap at them Stiles spoke. ''Actually, Derek and I have plans.''
Derek's eyes shot to Stiles's face, surprised. And now that the room had been mostly cleared, Stiles was also able to pick up traces of nervousness.
''Oh?'' Leah asked. ''Do you mind if we join you?''
''Sorry, but would you guys mind if we made plans for some other time? This is the first time Derek and I have had a chance to catch up properly since I was in High School.'' Stiles explained.
''Oh, alright. We can do something next weekend'' Danica chirped, strangely cheerful all of a sudden. ''Here, Derek, let me give you my number so we can set something up.''
Leah chimed in, refusing to be outdone. ''Here, you should take mine as well!'' Leah insisted.
''And mine!'' Tori added.
Chapter 6:
Finally, Stiles swung the door closed on every last one of the humans who had relentlessly hounded Derek all night. Derek was half relieved to be alone with Stiles, and half afraid. As long as I don't think about anything I shouldn't, it'll be fine Derek reassured himself. ''Well, that was fun'' Stiles joked sarcastically. ''I'm surprised you didn't wolf out on anyone''. I'm surprised I didn't wolf out on anyone Stiles thought to himself.
''Don't ever invite me to anywhere your friends are again'' Derek deadpanned. He wasn't entirely joking.
''I dunno, Derek'' Stiles mocked. ''You and Danica would make a pretty cute couple''.
A deep, animalistic growl rumbled from Derek's chest. Stiles laughed in response, Derek's unfaltering hatred of the idea cheering him considerably. Stiles stepped toward Derek, closing the distance between them in a few short strides. Before Derek could react Stiles wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in for an embrace. ''I'm really glad you came'' he murmured.
Derek couldn't help but hold Stiles closer, allowing himself a heartbeat to enjoy the feel his body. He couldn't help but notice that Stiles felt different to before, beneath his clothes his muscles were firmer, and he had grown stronger. Naturally, Scott's bite had changed him, Derek was already aware of this. Still, it felt strange to picture his skinny, defenceless Stiles as strong.
Derek felt that something about that idea was worth a second thought... 'His' Derek realized. I thought of Stiles as being mine. But of course, Stiles never had been. Maybe for a brief moment, but beyond that they were… friends.
Stiles couldn't read the thoughts in Derek's head, but he could smell his emotions. Longing. Shame. And a pain that Stiles hadn't smelled before. He knew Derek was about to pull away from him, but he didn't want him to go.
Derek stepped away. ''I should get going.''
As Derek moved around him Stiles reached out and grasped his arm. ''Are you going to start avoiding me now?'' he asked bluntly.
Derek blinked, wondering how Stiles could know about that before he'd even started. ''Why would you think that?''
''Because I'm not human anymore.'' He answered.
Derek frowned, opening his mouth to pry further. Stiles spoke before he could voice his next question. ''Chemo signals'' He sighed. ''I know how… uncomfortable you are around me''. Derek winced, knowing that he had been caught out, that something Stiles smelt led him to believe he'd avoid him to conceal it. The question is, what did he pick up on? Derek wondered.
''Stiles…'' Derek hesitated. ''What exactly do you mean by uncomfortable?''
Stiles's eyes narrowed, his lips parting with an exaggerated slowness. ''Seriously, you want me to explain your own feelings to you!? Are you really so emotionally dense!?''
Stiles's sudden dramatism reminded Derek of one of the things he most loved and hated about him. When that sarcastic flare was directed at someone else, Derek watched with barely concealed amusement. But when directed at himself, Derek's hackles would instantly raise.
''Emotionally dense?'' Derek glared. ''Really, Stiles?''
''Yes, Derek'' Stiles retorted, immaturely mimicking Derek's tone. ''I just want to know if you're going to disappear on me again!?''
''What do you mean disappear?'' Derek snapped.
''You left.'' Stiles snapped back. ''We were dealing with Dread Doctors and the Wild frickin Hunt and you. Never. Came. Back.''
''Came back?'' Derek growled. ''Came back to what exactly? There was nothing left for me in Beacon Hills and I wasn't about to sit around and watch you with Malia and Lydia and whoever the fuck else!''
That last part took them both by surprise, and for a second they just gaped at each other. Derek regained his composure first, suddenly very motivated to get out of the apartment and far away from whatever Stiles would say in response to his outburst. It wasn't until that moment when Stiles saw the mortified look on Derek's face that he understood the longing, shame and hurt that had filled Derek's scent. All three emotions were pouring into the air, as well as Derek's embarrassment. All this time and he still feels the same as back then Stiles realized. It made him unbearably happy and nervous all at once, and his wolf instincts howled for him to act.
Stiles reached out to grab him. ''Derek.''
Derek tugged his arm free and approached the door. ''Just forget I said anything'' he barked, reaching for the handle.
Stiles easily caught up to him, slamming his hand onto the door with a touch of werewolf strength. Derek was caught off guard, unused to Stiles displaying his werewolf traits. With speed known only to the supernatural Stiles pressed his body against Derek's and initiated an impulsive kiss. Derek hesitated only for a moment before returning it.
Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, turning him so that his back was pressed to the door. This allowed Derek to draw closer, closing the gap between their bodies until there wasn't so much as a hairs width between them. He could feel the heat radiating from Stiles, and smell his nervous excitement.
For so long Derek had wanted to be able to hold Stiles like this, to feel his body against his own. He had thought and fantasized and dreamed of what was happening in that precise moment. He couldn't have been happier – or more impatient.
More than once Derek had the opportunity to have his way with Stiles, to taste and tease every part of him – and Derek had allowed every chance to pass him by. There was always some reason that they couldn't be together: their age difference or most frustrating of all, Stiles's feelings for other people. This time, Derek refused to care what the reason was. He didn't care that Stiles might be seeing someone else, he didn't care that Stiles was younger. He wanted him. Now.
Derek began to undress Stiles, expertly unbuttoning his shirt with fast, practiced movements. The suddenness of the action made Stiles gasp in surprise. ''Um, Derek-''
Derek didn't let him finish, covering Stiles's mouth with his own and slipping his tongue into his mouth before Stiles could protest further. Stiles's lips parted willingly, if hesitantly. The anxiousness in Stiles's scent had intensified.
Derek tugged the now unbuttoned shirt off Stiles's shoulders, sliding it down his arms until it fell to the floor. He couldn't resist pulling back to get a better look at Stiles's half naked body. His once lanky and fragile frame had gradually reformed over the years. Stiles had grown into his long limbs and FBI fitness exams had clearly had an effect, as well as Scott's Bite. Derek wondered where Scott had bitten him, at which part had he gotten to touch before he had? The thought filled him with jealousy, and a determination to even the score (and obliterate the scoreboard).
While Derek had been studying his body, Stiles remained still and shy. The wolf instincts that drove him to kiss Derek were caged, neutered by Stiles human predilection for nervousness. A blush coloured his cheeks, a tell-tale mark of both his embarrassment and arousal. He could barely meet Derek's gaze at the best of times, and now the raging whirlwind of butterflies in his stomach made it impossible.
Derek reached forward, his hands moving to undo Stiles's jeans. Just as the button popped Stiles grabbed Derek's hands with his own. ''I haven't done this before'' he blurted. Briefly, he glanced up to Derek's face and seeing his inquisitive look added ''with a guy, I mean… I've never…'' Stiles trailed off, too embarrassed to explain more. Stiles continued to stare at Derek's shirt until Derek gently pulled his left hand from Stiles's grip and used it to lift his jaw. Forced to meet Derek's gaze Stiles flushed a deeper red. Seeing Stiles this way pleased Derek, he had felt like a bumbling fool chasing after someone who wouldn't ever feel the same. And yet, Stiles did. Derek leaned in and kissed him tenderly, easing the storm in Stiles's gut. As they kissed Derek moved his right hand slowly, reaching into Stiles's jeans and finding him semi-hard already. Stiles gasped at his touch as Derek started to work his erection.
''We…should…go to…the bedroom'' Stiles mumbled between kisses.
Derek kissed his way along Stiles's neck, nipping at his earlobe. ''Which way?'' Derek asked reluctantly, not wanting to stop touching him for even a second.
Stiles led him to the bedroom, which was cluttered with boxes – some empty, some full. ''Sorry about the mess, I haven't put everything away yet'' Stiles apologized.
Derek crept up behind him, kissing the back of his neck. ''I don't care'' he murmured. Derek reached down and pulled at Stiles's remaining clothes, letting his pants pool around his ankles and exposing the rest of his body.
Stiles's Adams apple bobbed nervously. 'Why am I the only one naked?'' he asked. The question was meant to be sarcastic, his way to relieve some of the pressure he felt. But as often happened with his nervous tic, his choice of words backfired. He didn't need to turn around to see Derek stripping, the sound of his clothes rustling was enough. The anxiety he'd hoped to alleviate spiked dramatically at the thought of the very naked werewolf behind him, and he hadn't even looked at Derek yet.
Derek's arm draped over Stiles's shoulder, crossing over his chest to cradle him close. Stiles could feel how hard Derek was against his bare skin - how large. This prompted Stiles's fingers to tap nervously against his thigh. Derek grabbed his twitching fingers, holding them still as he leaned in and nuzzled Stiles's neck. ''Relax'' he murmured.
''Sorry'' he mumbled quietly, his nerves allowing to speak no louder than a whisper.
Derek brushed his lips across Stiles's throat with small, gently teasing touches meant to calm hi, and distract from his anxiety. His gentle diversion succeeded, with some of Stiles's tension beginning to melt away. Derek released Stiles's hand, moving his own to wrap around Stiles's cock. Derek jerked his wrist, slowly at first, but gradually increased his speed as Stiles began to grow firmer. Stiles rocked his hips against Derek's hand, moaning. The sound sent a thrill along Derek's spine. Wanting to hear more he trailed his free hand across Stiles's body, stopping at his chest. He took Stiles's nipple between his thumb and forefinger, carefully twisting and teasing the sensitive spot. Stiles body stiffened in response, his hips bucking harder and he bit down on his lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. Derek flicked his tongue across Stiles's neck, simultaneously increasing the pressure he used to twist Stiles's nipple. The slight pain caused Stiles to gasp, unable to hold the sound back this time. ''mmm- Derek…'' Stiles began, the bright yellow glow of his werewolf eyes emphasising his lack of ability to remain in control of his body. ''I'm gonna... ah!''
Stiles's back arched as he curved into Derek's hand, releasing intensely. For a moment his nervousness faded completely, the pleasure he felt blocking all other thoughts from his mind. Unthinkingly, he leaned backward and into Derek's arms. Feeling Derek's hardness against him brought him back to himself, his self-consciousness returning to him with full force. ''I – shit, sorry…'' Stiles stuttered.
Derek chuckled, pleased that in some ways Stiles was still the same awkward, anxiety riddled pain in the ass he was before. "It's fine'' he murmured, recognising that Stiles's quick release and near-shift weren't the only things making him nervous. Unable to resist the temptation to torment him Derek rotated his hips, rubbing himself against Stiles. Though Stiles hid his nerves well, the spike of anxiety filling his scent still filled the room, causing Derek to laugh again.
Stiles turned his head to get a better view of Derek's face and upon seeing his wolfish smirk Stiles realised he was being played with. ''Ass'' he muttered.
Derek was unaffected by Stiles's attitude, in fact he had missed it. He had missed everything about Stiles. Derek leaned in to kiss him, and Stiles immediately forgot his irritation. Derek kissed him sweetly, guiding him backward until they were tumbling into bed, where they remained locked in each other's arms until the first rays of morning light.
The End
I tried to reinterpret rather than remake the series storyline, I hope you liked it! This is actually my first go at writing so I'd really love some feedback if you have the time. Thanks so much for giving this read 3
