Medium is the Message
The cell slipped from his hand to land with a dull thud on the carpet, his whole body frozen in surprise. Derek was kissing him? Oh my god Derek Hale's mouth is on mine. What do I do? He thought frantically, mind a confused mess. As much as he'd fantasized about kissing Derek, that it was happening felt like a dream. He was going to wake up any second, right? Because there was no way Derek was finally kissing him.
Then the lips were gone. Where have they gone? Stiles moved his lips around, leaning a little forward in search of them but all he found was air. Cracking open an eye, he saw Derek looking at his lap with that frustrating guilty look on his face.
"I..." Derek started breathlessly, his body shifting in preparation to rise, "I shouldn't ha..."
"Fuck no! " Stiles spat, his hand shooting out to grab the front of Derek's Henley and yanking back in, crushing their mouths together once more.
This time Stiles was completely in the moment, his lips brushing teasingly against Derek's. He pulled the man's lower lip into his mouth and sucked. It drew a rumbling groan from Derek, and the man's large hand instantly came up to frame his face.
While Derek's fingers moved to card through the short hairs at the back of Stiles head, Stiles own hand slowly stroked its way from where it hand been gripping Derek's shirt, down to the hem. Blindly, Stiles fidgeted until his hand slid beneath and he felt the clammy heat of Derek's back.
They both moaned at the same moment, and pressed their bodies closer. It wasn't a particularly comfortable position, perched as they were on the thin ledge of the window frame.
Window seat. Stiles thought distractedly, We've got to get a window seat. The mental image of the pair if them entangled in front of the window, the full moon bathing their naked flesh, had Stiles moaning loudly and he tried to move closer, but there was nowhere left for him to go.
Derek's lap, his mind provided, but in their current position there was no way he'd fit, but like hell if he wasn't going to try, so Stiles scrambled closer, throwing his leg over Derek's thigh. The Alpha's hand instantly dropped from Stiles hair to his ass, holding him in place and deepened the kiss further. Stiles smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms securely around Derek's neck, fingers clenching tightly at the back of the Alpha's shirt.
Stiles had no idea how long they were there; minutes, hours, days? It may even be years. Time stopped and the world fell away. It was just the two of them.
Then it ended.
The pairs attention snapped to the door and the sound of a throat being cleared, to find Deaton stood with his eyes averted. "Sorry to interrupt." the man said flatly, "Derek, your sister is asking to see you."
Stiles instantly climbed off Derek's lap and stepped away as Derek hurriedly stepped past him. He paused a few feet away, looking back, "Go." Stiles whispered breathlessly, waving his hand at the door. He watched as Derek followed Deaton out of the room, closing the door behind them.
Alone, Stiles staggered to the bed and dropped down onto the edge, his chest heaving. Oh my god. He thought again, his tongue sweeping across his lips, capturing the last of Derek's taste. "Okay, so that happened." he muttered, a smile stretching across his face.
He sat there for a while, his head replaying the kiss, until his imagination took over where they'd left off and his dick began to twitch. Getting to his feet, Stiles began to strip out of his clothes and strolled to the small bathroom.
_(*-*)_/
Derek stepped into the room with an extra spring in his step, and hurried over to his sister's side, "Cora?" he whispered, lowering himself down next to her and pushing all thoughts of Stiles and their kiss to the back of his mind. He combed his fingers through her damp hair, and her eyes slowly drifted open. The blue of her irises framed with streaks of red. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes and her forehead was peppered with sweat.
Seeing his sweet baby sister's eyes flash blue sent a sickening chill through him, and he tried to tell himself there was an explanation. Yes, she'd taken a life, but… but it didn't mean…
"Del?" she wheezed weakly, "Del?"
"It's me, sweetheart." He said softly, leaning closer. When Cora shook her head disbelievingly Derek took her trembling hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, "It's really me, Goofy."
Cora wrinkled her nose at the nickname, her eyes fluttering open in a failed attempt to glare at him, and Derek couldn't help but laugh, a tear rolling down his cheek.
"You're okay, sweetheart. You're home." He reassured her, swallowing the large lump in his throat, more tears escaping his eyes.
"I – I'm sorry, Del." She choked out, sniffling, "I – I'm so sorry."
Derek leant down to press his lips to her clammy forehead, "Hush, it's alright, Cora."
Shaking her head, she squeezed his fingers, "S-she said you were…. dead. She said you were all… dead."
"Who did?" He whispered, his free hand stroking her hair.
"Julia."
Derek frowned, not recognizing the name. "Who's Julia?"
"E-Emissary." Cora replied in a whisper, her eyes drifting closed. "Ennis." She added so quietly, only Derek caught it.
Sitting back, Derek watched as Cora drifted back to unconsciousness, then leant forward to press another kiss to her forehead, "You're safe, now." He promised quietly, "I won't let anything happen to you. I won't lose you too."
Inhaling deeply, Derek savoured Cora's scent once more filling his nose, before finally straightening and meeting Deaton's gaze, "Ennis?"
Deaton frowned for a moment before his features paled and he inhaled, looking between Derek and an unconscious Cora. "I think we should talk," he glanced over to Melissa, who'd been hovering across the room, pretending not to watch the scene. "You'll be okay with her?" he asked, and something about the way he'd said it, the reassurance in his voice, caused Derek's heckles to rise. Before he could say anything however, Deaton was heading for the door. With a final lingering look at his sleeping sister's pale face, and another gentle press of his lips to her forehead, Derek got to his feet and marched after the man.
Deaton was stood patiently hovering in the corridor, "Dryden Ennis," he said the moment Derek closed the door behind him, "is an Alpha who was murdered six years ago, along with his whole pack."
Derek took a sharp breath and shook his head, "It couldn't have been Cora, she was…"
Deaton held up a hand, "Of course not." He agreed. Deaton took a deep breath and sighed, he glanced down the corridor to Derek's room, "You may wish to get Stiles, I'd rather not repeat myself and he'll undoubtedly have questions."
With a nod, Derek hurried back to his room, bursting in without bothering to knock. The room was empty but he could hear the shower running. Strolling over to the door, he pushed it open and stuck his head inside, opening his mouth to speak only for the words to die on his tongue as the overpowering scent of arousal and sex slammed into him. The scent ignited his primal heat, but then the water suddenly stopped and the shower door opened. The air left Derek's lungs as he stared at a naked and very wet Stiles, who stared back at him. "Uh…" he stammered, heart thumping hard beneath his ribs. "I…"
Stiles smiled at him, "Don't look so horrified, dude." He laughed, moving closer, "It's not like you ain't seen me naked before." He smirked teasingly, reaching for the towel.
Derek exhaled a huff, "That was different." He argued back defensively.
Wrapping the towel around his hips, Stiles grinned and step up to the Alpha, "Yeah?"
"Yes." Derek choked out, his gaze scanning over the teenager's body, allowing himself to fully appreciate the tone muscles and dark hair. – Not to mention…
Stiles nodded, "I guess it was," he whispered seductively, "I was unconscious."
Derek stiffened at the reminder, his eyes snapping up to meet Stiles. Hurriedly he stepped away, backing out of the bathroom. Behind him Stiles exhaled a groan.
"Come on, man. Derek?" Stiles rushed out after him, "I was teasing, please don't start freaking out again." He begged. "Everything was going so good."
Derek kept his back to him as he replied, "We… I got carried away. I shouldn't…"
Stiles yanked angrily on his arm, "No!" he snapped, glaring at Derek furiously, "I'm done with your wallowing self-loathing, Derek. You like me, I know you do, and I like you, so can we please just…stop." He sighed desperately. "Please Derek."
Derek looked at him sadly, "I'm just trying to protect you, Stiles. I don't want to hurt you."
"You're not Kate, Derek." Stiles insisted firmly, "And no offense but I'm not you."
"Aren't you?" Derek asked, eyes searching the teenager's face, "Kate…" he swallowed around the name, "…she was able to manipulate me because I was in a bad place."
"I'm not in a bad place." Stiles argued loudly.
"Oh no?" Derek said harshly, "You're having problems with your dad, you haven't spoken to Scott in over six months, the girl you were in love with went back to her ex and may well have moved on to..."
"You're not some kind of fucking consolation prize or whatever it is you're thinking!" Stiles yelled, "I'm not here because I'm trying to fill some fucking… hole!"
"I'm not saying you are, I'm saying…" Derek let out a deep growl, "I don't know what I'm saying," he shook his head, dragging his hand through his hair. "I've got more baggage than I know how to deal with," he stated after a long frustrated silence.
"My life isn't exactly uncomplicated." Stiles reminded angrily.
"I'm 24, Stiles. Twenty-four, and you're 16! This," Derek waved between them, "is illegal." He said desperately, "As far as anyone…. As far as your father is concerned, I may as well be Kate."
Stiles stared at him, eyes wide and brimming with angry tears, "So that's it?"
Derek nodded slowly, "I…"
"No, you know what, Derek, fuck you!" he fumed.
Derek watched him move angrily around the room, his lips a stubborn thin line, but Derek could see the tremor in his chin, smell the suffocating scent of misery, heartbreak and tears waiting to fall, and it ripped though his heart.
Why can't Stiles see he's trying to do the right thing? As much as he wants Stiles, wants a future with him, now is not the time.
It's not that Derek is scared of the punishment; he'd committed worse sins than loving a boy much younger than him. He just couldn't risk destroying Stiles the way he had Paige.
Except Stiles wasn't Paige, was he? Stiles knew what Derek was and knew the dangers that lurked out in the darkness. Stiles ran with wolves and had the strength to protect himself.
Stiles wasn't a normal teenager, despite appearances. He'd seen loss and rejection, he'd spent his life carrying a secret just as great and destructive as Derek's own. He'd suffered at the hands of an Argent and carried the scars to prove it.
He'd seen the world as it really was, not just the light and dark, black and white, but layers of grey. Lines blurred and the rules were not always so easily followed. Situations and people differed, and neither he nor Stiles were completely human, were they?
They lived in that grey world.
Derek's heart beat frantically in his throat, a loud buzzing in his ears making him dizzy. Suddenly he had a haunting vision of his future. If he continued down his current path and let Stiles disappear into that bathroom. He felt it in his very soul. If he let Stiles go now, he'd never get him back.
The friendship would remain, but it would be broken, scared, never to fully heal, and eventually they would drift back to that cold distance of a year ago. Derek's heart shattered at the realization. That wasn't how they were meant to be, he knew that. He felt it.
You're not Kate! Stiles words resounded in his ear, and for the first time he believed them. He wasn't Kate. He wasn't like Kate. She hadn't cared about him. She hadn't loved him. She'd used him for her own twisted games, and felt not a single second of shame, or guilt. That wasn't him. He'd spent months hating himself, fighting his own feelings because he cared about Stiles. Loved Stiles. Everything he did or didn't do was so as not to hurt the teenager who'd brought him out of the dark cavern he'd been hiding away in for years.
And yet, he was hurting him. Right now, in this room, he was tearing the man he loved apart, out of fear.
With a sharp intake of breath, Derek leapt to his feet, mind whirling. Moving swiftly, he crossed the room, snagging Stiles arm in a gentle grip and tugging him to a stop, feeling him go rigid beneath his hold. "I'm sorry." Derek whispered, voice breaking on the words. A tear rolled down his cheek and his hands shook, "I... I panicked." He confessed.
There was a long silence in which Stiles remained still, barely even breathing. The heady scent of tears and heartbreak continuing to roll off him in waves. Exhaling slowly, Derek released his hand but didn't step back, simply standing there, a small gap between them.
Slowly the scent began to fade, replaced with the sharp tang of remorse, anger and... forgiveness. Closing his eyes, Derek filled his lungs with the scent and took a step forward, his hands raising to rest on the younger man's shoulders. He let his forehead drop to the back of Stiles head. "I'm sorry." He whispered once more.
There's silence but for the harsh breaths Stiles is exhaling and Derek doesn't push, he simply stands there with his head to Stiles'.
"It's not that I don't understand," Stiles whispered softly, his voice thick and wet with emotion, "of course I do. I can't even begin to imagine, nor do I want to, what that bitch did to you, or how it messed you up. - But..." he trailed off, falling silent again and Derek inhaled nervously, his fingers unconsciously tightening on Stiles warm pale flesh.
He opened his mouth to say something, but had no idea what to say but... Sorry. - Again.
He was saved from saying anything when Stiles turned, twisting free of Derek's hands so that they had to hang limply at the Alpha's side. Stiles looked up at him with red rimmed brown eyes and Derek's heart tightened in his chest.
"Oh my god," Stiles sighed, shaking his head, "You're an idiot, Sourwolf."
The air rushed out of Derek's lungs as an invisible weight was lifted. Grinning, he grabbed Stiles face, cradling it as if it were the holy grail while lowering his mouth to Stiles' once more.
Stiles moaned softly into the kiss, his hands slipping cautiously over Derek's hips, his nails grazing against the fabric of his jeans. The kiss was slow and gentle, only the slightest hint of tongue, and Derek felt himself being tugged closer until their bodies were pressed together.
The kiss didn't last long, Derek drawing back after only a few seconds to whisper, "I'm sorry." while his eyes scanned Stiles features, his thumb stroking slowly across the teenager's jaw.
Stiles nodded with a soft smile, "Me too." He breathed, "I know this ain't gonna be easy for you."
"No, it's not." Derek confessed, regret in his voice. "Every instinct is screaming that this is wrong, but..." With a huff Derek shook his head, "...I'm tired of...not being happy. "
Stiles grinned, wide and bright, "God, man, you're such a sap." He chuckled, then wrapped his fingers in Derek's shirt, pulling him back into another kiss.
They stood there lost in the moment for another few seconds, but a loud knock soon startled them apart.
"Shit," Derek hissed, leaping back, "Give us another minute!" He called through the door. "Deaton has information." He added in reply to Stiles curious look.
Stiles narrowed his gaze, a stern tone to his voice as he said, "So that's why you came back? Not to..."
Derek flinched, his cheeks heating as he stumbled to defend himself, "No, I mean... "
Stiles let out a chuckle, shoving at Derek's chest and stepped away. He crouched to collect the clothes he'd dropped during their kiss. Letting out a low growl, Derek waited for Stiles to straighten before grabbing at the towel, barely clinging to the teenager's hips, and whipped it away. Stiles let out a strangled yelp and spun around to glare at Derek clutching the clothes to cover his junk.
"Asshole!" Stiles spat through a grin, but Derek simple shrugged nonchalantly and wandered over to the bed, towel still in hand.
Stiles seemed to take it as a challenge and rather than returning to the bathroom to dress, strolled over to the bed, tossing the clothes beside Derek.
Lust fueled heat shot through Derek and he quickly averted his gaze away from Stiles naked body as the teenager took his precious time dressing.
"So how's your sister?" Stiles asked conversationally, dragging his underwear up his thighs.
Derek stared down at his hand, fidgeting with the towel, "Unconscious again." He sighed, "Seems someone told her I was dead, Laura too assumingly."
"Oh my god, who would do that? " Stiles gasped. "And why?"
Derek shrugged, "An emissary named Julia." He muttered angrily.
Stiles froze in the process of fastening his jeans and stared at Derek, "Emissary?"
Meeting Stiles gaze, Derek sighed wearily, "I don't know. Only the Alpha line deal with them. My mom and Laura. I remember hearing Mom and Laura talking about the emissary, but as I was just a beta, I was never told more than they're the protectors of the pack. - And to be honest," Derek huffed, " I was more concerned with... other things."
Stiles let the hem of the t-shirt fall, "Then I suggest we go get some answers." He held out his hand to Derek, who took it easily and got to his feet.
_(*-*)_/
The pack was gathered in the living room when they finally made their way down stairs. There was a thick tension in the room that even a human could have picked up on. Isaac sat with his back pressed to the wall beside the fireplace, eyes fixed on a book in front of him, the wire of his ear buds a start white against his dark blue t-shirt. Meanwhile Jackson lounged in the armchair, obviously trying to ignore the fact that Lydia and Peter were sat together on the couch, by staring murderously at the television.
Stiles was surprised Peter was even still there, quite frankly. He'd have thought he would have scurried back to his own house the second he was able to walk again, but then, he'd probably been hanging around waiting for Lydia. Taking in the way the pair sat so closely together, not quite touching but close enough to feel each other's every movement, made Stiles feel a sudden spark of jealousy. Not because he still loved her, he had Derek now, but more out of…habit. His eyes snapped to Jackson and he couldn't imagine how he was just sitting there. However, if what Derek had told him about Isaac was true, did Jackson even care? Maybe they had some kind of…open relationship thing going on. Stiles made a mental note to ask Lydia about that.
Stiles won't deny that there was a streak of satisfaction running through him at the knowledge he'd left Peter a bloody mess. He wondered if he'd feel worse about it if Peter's face was still black and blue, but while there was still a tinge of brownish-yellow around his right eye and along his jaw, the worst of the damage had healed. Though Stiles noted there was a wince of pain on the werewolf's face as he pushed himself off the couch, and as he made his way over, there was a slight limp to his right step.
Peter inclined his head to Derek before thrusting his hand out to Stiles. Staring down at it, slowly and very cautiously Stiles reached out to take it, the man's hand cold against his own heated palm.
"My apologies." Peter said in a low voice, "I should not have...attacked you."
Stiles frowned at him, uncertain how genuine the apology actually was. "Uh," he stammered, looking from Peter to Derek, then briefly over to Lydia, who had shifted forward on the couch and was watching them. "Okay, I... guess." he muttered, eyes turning back to the older man, "But you're paying for the couch."
"And the coffee table." Derek added harshly.
"Of course." Peter grinned easily, his usual charm resurfacing. With a slight squeeze to Stiles hand, Peter withdrew it and grinned.
"And I think you owe..." Stiles began, glancing to his left where Deaton stood silent and detached.
Peter's bright easy smile vanished instantly, his eyes sparkling blue as he turned them on the Veterinarian, "I will apologize for the damage to the house, and to you," Peter seethed, never breaking eye contact with Deaton, "but I'll not to him. What I did was deserved, and he knows it."
"Peter." Derek warned.
"No!" Peter snapped, finally looking to his nephew, "As Emissary he had a duty, not only to your mother and the pack, but to you!" he finished with a growl.
Stiles turned sharply to stare at Deaton, mouth hanging slightly open, the man looking at them with indifference, his back straight. "Your...an Emissary?" Stiles gasped, brows knitting in conclusion.
"The Hale Emissary!" Peter spat, taking a threatening step closer to the man, "Duty bound to serve the Alpha and protect the pack."
"I did my duty." Deaton stated flatly.
Peter scoffed disbelievingly, "And yet there dead." he muttered, "Why is that? Could it be because Talia wouldn't give you a second glance? Is that why you betrayed them?"
"I never betrayed the pack!" Deaton replied with a low tone that held contempt and restrained fury.
"Oh no?"
"I was duty bound to attend that gathering, your sister knew that." Deaton defended.
"Yes, convenient that it was the night Kate Argent choose to attack the pack."
Deaton stiffened, "I had nothing to do with that?" his eyes drifted over to Derek briefly, before he looked back to Peter and raised his chin defiantly.
Stiles frowned, his heart skipping. Did Deaton know about Derek's involvement with Kate Argent? Did he blame Derek for the fire as much as Derek blamed himself? Stiles felt Derek stiffen next to him and knew the man was thinking the same thing.
Peter took another threatening step towards Deaton and Stiles hurriedly put himself between them once more, while Derek grabbed at Peter's arm and pulled him back.
"Peter, enough." Derek warned, "We have other..."
"I'd find myself more inclined to believe you," Peter continued, ignoring his nephew's words, "If not for the fact that you abandoned Laura and Derek to find their own way." Shaking off Derek's grip, Peter stepped away, putting some space between them. "And Cora..." He growled.
"I had no idea Cora had survived!" Deaton quickly defended.
Gravitating back to Derek's side, Stiles looked between the two men, intrigued by the sudden turn of events.
"Laura wasn't ready to be Alpha!" Peter muttered, his back to them as he stared out of the window. "She needed guidance, she needed her Emissary, instead you abandoned her and forced her to find sanctuary with strangers. – And when she came home," he shot the man a hard look, "you turned her away."
Derek gasped, inhaling deeply, "What?"
"That's not..." Deaton started before lowering his gaze.
"Perhaps if you'd done your job, she'd..."
Deaton took an angry step forward, "Don't blame me for what you did Peter!"
"Why not? Did you help her at all? Did you help Derek when he came to you? - Have you helped any of them?" he waved his hand at the room. "Where were you when Derek became Alpha?"
"I have helped where I could."
Peter sneered, shaking his head furiously, "You stood by in the shadows and allowed children to stop me! You knew everything but told them nothing. You never stepped forward to help? Derek was forced to find his way in the dark and it almost cost them all their lives." Stepping forward once more, fixing the man with a hard penetrating glare, "Or perhaps you hoped to wipe us all off the face of the earth and start a new pack? One under your control!"
"What?" Stiles muttered, frowning.
Peter moved closer, eyes searching the Veterinarians emotionless features. "Is that your plan for Scott? You think that boy can be Alpha? A bitten werewolf?" his nose wrinkled with disgust. "Is that why you've been whispering in his ear? Turning him against Derek? Convincing him he doesn't need a pack?"
Deaton's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. Stiles' finger's flexed at his side and he stepped forward, "Is this true?" he demanded, voice almost as threatening as Peter's.
Deaton tore his gaze away to meet Stiles, "No."
Peter huffed another disbelieving laugh.
"Then why do you keep stuff from us? You knew...you had to have known about Scott, and Peter, and Derek, and you said nothing. For six months you said nothing!" he ended with a yell. Deaton pressed his lips into a thin line, which only made Stiles angrier. "Do you know who's doing these murders? Do you?"
"No."
Stiles shook his head, "I don't know whether to believe you or not."
"Not." Peter growled angrily. "There's no way he doesn't know. They're connected, aren't you?"
"Enough." Derek announced suddenly, stepping up between Stiles and Peter. "Peter, sit down."
"Derek..."
"Sit." Derek ordered, though there was a gentleness to his tone. Reluctantly Peter returned to the couch, and the Alpha turned his attention back to the man in front of him. "Jackson, get a chair for our guest."
Stiles frowned up at the Alpha before looking over his shoulder to see Jackson dragging in a chair from the kitchen and setting it up in front of the fireplace.
"Thank you." Derek said over his shoulder, before stepping a little to his right and waving his hand at the chair, "Dr. Deaton." There was a harshness to his tone that made it abundantly clear it was not a request.
Stiles stepped aside to let the man pass and watched with a buzz of anticipation and excitement as Deaton took the seat, looking around them.
"Now, you said you had information on this Julia woman." Derek crouched down in front of the man, meeting his eyes, "And her Alpha."
Stiles perched his ass on the edge of the abandoned armchair and watched as Deaton was flanked by Jackson and Isaac. He couldn't deny there was a thrill to seeing Derek behave like the Alpha he was. It was...well arousing.
Deaton exhaled a long breath, "Ennis and his pack were murdered," he stated finally, "a little over a week after…." He glanced over to Peter, who sat beside Lydia, glaring murderously at his folded hands. "the fire."
"By Argents?" Derek asked, his tone cold and unfeeling.
Deaton shook his head, "No. - By the pack's Emissary, Julia Baccari."
Peter laughed and got to his feet, stomping out of the room. Stiles turned to watch as Lydia hurriedly went after him.
"And?" Derek pressed, ignoring his uncle's exit.
Deaton shook his head, "That's all I know."
"Are you serious? " Stiles snapped.
"I was dealing with the loss of my own..."
Derek growled, warning Deaton not to finish that sentence.
Deaton stiffened, meeting the Alpha's angry red eyes. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I've heard snippets over the years. Other murders, other packs, wiped out. - I can reach out," Deaton insisted, " Find out what I can."
"Oh, so now you want to help?" Jackson scoffed, leaning against the fireplace with his arms folded.
Deaton looked up at him, "If Julia has indeed become a Darach, then she needs to be stopped, for all our sakes."
"And Cora?" Derek demanded.
Deaton met his gaze, "I've done all I can. Her only hope is Julia."
"If you're an Emissary, why can't you fix it?" Stiles snapped.
"It's not that simple. Without knowing what kind of curse she put on her, I have no way of knowing how to counteract it."
Derek remained crouched silently for a few seconds before getting up and walking into the kitchen, nodding for Stiles to join him. They positioned themselves by the kitchen door, looking out into the darkness.
"So, what do you think?" Stiles whispered, staring at the Alpha's profile.
Derek shook his head, "I don't know. - What do your instincts say?"
stiles sighed warily, shooting a look to the living room. "And hour ago, I'd have said he was shady but ultimately trustworthy, but..." He looked back to the darkness, "What Peter said, I'm realizing he may be closer to the truth than I want to admit. - He knew who you were, he knew about Peter and Scott, and he kept silent for months." Stiles shook his head furiously, "And I know he was partly responsible for what happened with Isaac, helping Scott undermine you." Looking up at Derek, Stiles clenched his jaw, "I don't know if we can trust him. Especially if Peter's right about him trying to set Scott up as Alpha."
Derek inclined his head in agreement, "And yet, he may be the only person who can help me save Cora."
He was right, Stiles knew, which meant they had to risk trusting Deaton. "Okay."
They stood in the darkened kitchen for another few seconds before making their way back to the living room. Deaton was still sat with Isaac and Jackson either side of him, only now Melissa was with them, staring at Deaton with a look that told Stiles instantly that she'd heard their previous conversation. She knew there was a possibility that Deaton had been manipulating her sin all this time.
Derek ignored Scott's mom and headed over to Deaton, hovering over him with his arms folded, "Find out what you can."
_(*-*)_/
"Any idea who it was?" Asked Stiles as he pressed a small sticky circle onto the map on the basement wall, indicating where the latest body had been found. As predicted it was at the museum, only in the eastern part of the building.
"Doctor Peterson." Isaac answered from his place halfway up the stairs, Jackson a few steps below him. Lydia was sat like a queen on one of the dining room chairs Peter had carried down for her. The werewolf in question was stood perusing the bookshelf.
"You're sure?" Derek frowned, looking over from where he was perched on the edge of the desk.
Isaac nodded, "She fixed my broken arm the year before last."
Stiles looked around sharply to find everyone making a considerable effort not to stare at the other teenager. Clearing his throat, Stiles drew the groups attention back to the situations at hand. "So we have three teenage deaths at the high school, all virgins, and now two bodies at the museum, at least one of which is a doctor."
"They're both Doctors. " Peter corrected nonchalantly, "Doctor Eric Hilyard to be precise." He turned to regard them, "Stiles isn't the only one doing research." he huffed. "He worked on the long term care ward." He added dismissively, wondering over to stand behind Lydia, his hand resting on her shoulder in a naturally comfortable way.
Stiles glanced from the pair to Jackson, who was glaring at them. Above him Isaac was shooting murderous looks into the back of the blond's head. "So, three virgins, two doctors." He nodded, tugging a sheet of paper from the pile of books on the desk, " Definitely some kind of sacrifice, but for what? " he muttered to himself, which was pretty pointless in a room full of werewolves.
"Power obviously." Peter replied, " What else is there?"
"Revenge." Jackson hissed.
"You need power to get revenge. " Peter smirked at the young man, "Believe me, I know."
"But what does any of it have to do with the Five Fold Knot?" Stiles continued, staring down at the sketch in one of Peter's books.
"Who says it does?" Lydia asked. "It could just be something I saw in a book." She dismissed with a wave of her hand.
"Everything is connected." Stiles replied over his shoulder, letting out a frustrated grunt, "We're no closer today than we were four weeks ago."
"I wouldn't say that, " Peter chuckled, "You two sounded pretty close."
Stiles spun around, fixing the ex-Alpha with a dark stare, "Can someone kill him again?"
"It's almost 4am," Derek interrupted, pushing himself off the desk, "we should get some sleep. Peter, you take the couch, Lydia can have Boyd's room."
"What about Stiles? " Peter smirked, ignoring Stiles warning.
"On second thoughts, Peter, go home."
Peter's smile faltered, "My apologies nephew."
Shaking his head, Derek waved a hand at the stairs, shooing them away until it was only he and Stiles remaining in the dimly lit basement. Derek listened as the group made their way through the house, the only voices were those of Peter and Lydia as they wished each other good night.
Heaving a tired sigh, Derek turned and made his way over to Stiles, who stood staring intensely at the chaotic collection of maps and notes. Stepping up behind the teenager, Derek ran his hands along his shoulders. There was tension beneath the fine fabric and Derek massaged the muscles. "Come on, you need to sleep." He whispered gently into Stiles ear.
"I don't need sleep." Stiles dismissed.
"Of course you do." Derek reached up, tugging the pen from between Stiles lips and tossing it aside, before firmly guiding him away from the wall and over to the stairs.
"Where'd everyone go?" Stiles asked, blinking at the suddenly empty basement.
"Bed, just like we're going to."
Stiles grinned, turning in Derek's hold at the bottom of the stairs, "Oh really?" He hummed excitedly, "Why didn't you say so?" He leant forward, capturing Derek's lips with his own and slipping his hands underneath the Alpha's shirt.
Derek moaned into the kiss, opening his mouth to deepen it but flinched away at the first touch of Stiles hands on his waist band. Instantly he reached to grip the teenager's wrists, pulling them away from his jeans and shaking his head. Stiles frowned up at him, a look of fear filling his eyes. Derek pressed a reassuring kiss to his lips again, before explaining. "Stiles," he sighed, running his thumbs over the backs of the teenager's wrists, "We can't… - I can't, not yet."
Stiles flushed crimson in the dim light, "Uh, but we're…"
"I know, but… Stiles you're still only 16…"
"I'd be legal in Europe."
Derek huffed out a breath, "Well regretfully, we're not in Europe and your dad is the Sheriff."
Stiles' shoulder's slumped, "But…come on dude, like everyone is…"
"Stiles." Derek cut in firmly, his eyes burning into the teenager. He let go of Stiles and stepped back, "This is not a negotiation. I want to be with you, but I'm not going to rush into anything. I can't."
There was a second of silence before Stiles inhaled deeply and took a step into Derek's personal space. "I'm sorry." He muttered, "I shouldn't have pushed."
Derek heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head, "This is exactly why I wanted to wait. You're young, you want to get out there and…experience stuff. Maybe we should…?"
"No!" Stiles snapped firmly, "Okay, no, no, no. We're not going there again, Derek. I'm a hormonal teenager yes, but that doesn't mean I'm completely incapable of self-control."
Looking at the teenager, Derek raised a skeptical brow.
"Okay, so I admit, self-control isn't my best character trait, but I'm capable of it when I have to be man, okay? And this," he gestured between them, "is something I want, so…" raising his hands in surrender, Stiles stepped back and made his way up the stairs. "562."
"What?" Derek called after him.
At the top of the stairs, Stiles turned, grinning down at him with a shrug. "Just counting down the days. 562."
Derek laughed, shaking his head.
A/N: I have to admit, I almost had Derek's post kiss freak out end very differently, but decided after much consideration that the anger has gone on too long and the boys need to start moving forward. My original plan would have also made certain future moments more difficult to navigate, so I had Derek finally make a breakthrough. I don't know if it works all that well, it feels a little rushed to me, but that might be me thinking too much.
Also, I know the chapter title doesn't quite fit, but I couldn't really find one from the Dark Angel episode list that really fit the chapter, so I went with this one.
