Art Attack
Derek groaned as bright morning sunlight spilled in through a gap in the curtain. His neck felt stiff and his back made an unhealthy noise for someone in their twenties.
Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Derek got to his feet and stretched out the crook in his back. He should have slept on the floor rather than the uncomfortable corner chair. Once all the knots were relaxed from his spine, Derek took a few steps to the bedside and looked down at his sleeping sister. He pressed his palm to her forehead and was disheartened, if not wholly unsurprised, when it came away clammy. The fever still had a grip on her, though it seemed to be slowly receding. Thank you for small mercies. Derek prayed. "Morning, sweetheart." He whispered, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead.
Melissa had tried to convince him that his sister would be better off in the hospital, but Stiles had quickly pointed out that unless they've suddenly started practicing magic, there was nothing they could do. - Except bring attention to the pack.
"This is why packs have Emissaries," Peter had muttered angrily before marching off into the kitchen, the anger still rolling off him in thick heavy waves.
There had been a tense moment before Melissa had nodded understandingly and headed for the door, Stiles following after her. She'd muttered about talking to Scott, then left for the night with a promise to return after her shift the next day to check on Cora.
Derek would like to believe that Melissa could get through to her son, for Stiles sake if nothing else, but deep down Derek doubted it would change anything. Scott was still too angry and self-righteous to accept any kind of olive branch from Derek.
He did hope however that Scott would at least become more cautious of his boss.
Sighing warily, Derek stepped back from the bed and grabbed the bowl of stale tepid water. Walking it to the door, Derek paused, looking back at his baby sister, heart twisting painfully. "I'll be back." He said with a sad smile. She used to laugh at his bad Terminator impression and he wished he could hear that laugh again now.
Stepping out into the hall, Derek closed the door quietly. The house was silent, or at least it would be to a human's ear, but Derek was comforted by the sound of numerous steady heartbeats coming from every corner of the house. He wasn't sure if it was instinct or something more primal that drew him to his room rather than the large family bathroom down the hall, or even the kitchen, but without even realising it, he was balancing the bowl in one hand while cautiously pushing open the bedroom door and stepping into the muted light.
The thick dark navy curtains only allowed the barest amount of light into the room, filling it with a blue hue instead of golden sunlight. The dark of the room meant nothing thanks to his werewolf abilities. Glancing over to the bed, he let out a long sigh at what he saw. It wasn't the fact that Stiles was laying there, stripped down to only his boxers, the covers tossed off the bed to pile on the floor. Rather, on the mattress, Stiles was resting with his feet pressed into the pillows at an awkward angle, while his cheek lay pressed into a pile of books and papers.
Rolling his eyes, Derek shook his head and closed the door quietly behind him before tiptoeing across the room the bathroom, careful not to disturb the lump in his bed.
After emptying the bowl and wringing out the face cloth, Derek set them on the counter and took care of his bladder with a long relieved sigh, his eyes drifting closed for a moment.
Tucking himself away and washing his hands, Derek headed back out into the bedroom, carefully moving closer to the bed. He stared down at Stiles and felt his heart skip. The corner of his mouth curled up and he shook his head. With as much care as he could, he slid the books and papers from beneath Stiles cheek. Closing them and setting them on the nightstand before reaching for the pillows underneath the teenager's feet, pulling them free cautiously, freezing when Stiles grumbled softly. When it was clear the teenager wasn't going to wake, he continued. Gently he curled his fingers around Stiles head and lifted it to slide the pillow beneath him.
That proved to be too much for a sleeping Stiles. He blinked awake and stared up at Derek, his eyes half lidded and a dopy smile spreading across his face. "Hey, what time is it?"
Derek exhaled, lowering Stiles head down onto the pillow and withdrawing his hand. "It's still early." he muttered quietly, "Go back to sleep."
Stiles let out a soft moan and snuggled around on the bed. When Derek straightened and turned to leave him to sleep, Stiles long fingers curled around his wrist, stopping him. "Stay."
Looking down at him, Derek's heart leapt into his throat. "I... - I should get back to Cora." he replied. He'd promised he return, and he didn't want to leave her alone in the bedroom, unconscious and fighting for her life.
That said, she wasn't going anywhere and from what Deaton had said before he'd left, assuming he wasn't lying, she wasn't going to wake up until they found the Emissary, Julia.
"Oh, yeah." Stiles whispered regretfully, his fingers squeezing once before reluctantly dropping away. "You should get back to her." he muttered, his eyes drifting closed once more. He turned over, his bare back exposed to Derek's gaze, and buried his face into the pillow.
Derek stared down at him for a long few seconds, then over to the door. He really should get back to her. He'd promised. Almost instantly Derek's body felt heavy, and the thought of returning to the hard chair beside Cora's bed made him groan. He stared at the inviting space next to Stiles then glanced at the clock. 5:30am. He could get a couple of hours.
Shaking his head at this foolishness, Derek turned, lowering himself down on the edge of the mattress and dragged his Hensley off, his nose wrinkling at the scent of his own sweat filling his nostrils. He let it drop to the floor and grabbed the other pillow, settling it behind his head as he settled back, stretching his body out beside Stiles.
The moment he was settled, Stiles shifted back against him, his butt pressing against Derek's hip. He gave it a little wiggle and huffed frustratingly, making it clear to Derek just what he was expecting. Inhaling deep, Derek twisted around and threw his arm over Stiles waist. "Isn't it too hot for this?" he asked quietly, his breath playing over Stiles shoulder.
Stiles said little more than grumbled nonsense as he shifted back into Derek's embrace, his fingers curling possessively around Derek's wrist as it lay settled on the teenager's stomach.
_(*-*)_/
Stiles inhaled deeply and buried his face deeper into the warmth, slowly becoming aware of the musky scent playing at his senses. He shifted closer to the heat rather than away from it and let out a soft moan when his dick pressed against a solid object. He didn't open his eyes, not wanting to dream to end.
It was such a good dream. Derek, naked in his bed. He wasn't green this time and Stiles was grateful for it. Has hot as being fucked by Hulk Derek was, this was far nicer. Slow, placid love making. Derek whispering his name. Derek's fingers stroking down his back and shoulder. Stiles rocked his hips, wanting friction. Wanting Derek.
"Stiles." Derek moaned deliciously, and Stiles hummed in reply, hips still moving. "S-Stiles, wa-ke up." Derek panted.
But Stiles didn't want to wake, so instead he moved closer still, throwing his leg over the solid form and tilted his face up, mouth opening, lips puckered and searching.
When they finally found the roughness of Derek's jaw, Stiles exhaled a relieved sigh and pressed them harder against the scratchy surface, nipping at the flesh beneath. His fingers groped at bare flesh as he rocked his hips.
"S-sti..."
Stiles silenced the voice, the Derek of his dream yielding to the kiss. The Alpha's hands coming up to clutch at his waist, then down to his ass, kneading the firm globes and eliciting a louder moan from Stiles.
He was so close, his body burning with desire and the need for release.
"S-Stiles, we..." Derek panted and could feel it on his damp lips. "...need to..."
"Derek."
Fingers tighten on his ass and then his hips, and before he's able to feel the explosive ecstasy of an orgasm, he's being tossed aside. He startled awake with a pained frustrated whine and it took a couple of seconds for his vision to adjust.
Derek was there, staring down at him, face flushed and eyes darker than Stiles has ever seen them. There's a thin ring of red around the pupil that sends a blistering hot bolt of arousal through him. It's so strong Stiles wonders how he hasn't just cum. Instead he jerks his hips up, rubbing his clothed cock against Derek's equally hard one, and sucked in a sharp breath.
Derek let out a low deep sound in the back of his throat, that to Stiles ear is part desperate whine and part angry growl. The Alpha's hips rocked down, seemingly of their own accord, judging by the face Derek pulls.
Spreading his legs so Derek was able to slide more comfortably between his thighs, and allowing their erections to rub deliciously, Stiles lifted his hands, combing both up through the short hairs at the back of Derek's head until he's able to get a firm handful of lush thick hair to pull the man's mouth down.
There was a moment of resistance and Stiles fingers began to loosen, but then Derek's hot mouth was on his, opening up to him.
A corner of Stiles mind registered how gross it was, morning breath lingering on their tongues, but the feel of Derek's cock against his own, the weight of the man above him, pressing him down into the mattress, swept away any momentary disgust.
Derek's fingers bit into Stiles shoulders with each thrust of the man's hips, his body sliding against Stiles own while they kissed. Stiles had already been so close and it wasn't long before he felt his balls tighten. Twisting his head, he panted against Derek's shoulder, "So close," he increased his own pace, one knee rising to press into the Alpha's ribs, his heel grinding into the rough fabric of Derek's denim covered butt cheek.
"Stiles," Derek muttered breathlessly, "I... I'm..."
"Yeah, " Stiles replied, hips rocking frantically.
"W-we should s-stop." Derek moaned, even as his hips kept moving.
Stiles was quiet for a moment, his mind and body at war, "Yeah." He nodded even as his fingers tightened further in Derek's hair, right hand dropping to grip at the man's ass cheek, kneading and squeezing, "Of c-course, yeah. Should stop. Right... now..."
"Your Da..."
"Will k-kill..."
"W-wrong." Derek muttered, voice thick and low, hot breath dancing across Stiles neck.
"Sooooo wrooong," Stiles groaned, his body going rigid and his back arching. "Fuaahhhck, Derek." He moaned into the werewolf's shoulder, his teeth digging into the flesh as his release pooled between them.
Derek growled against Stiles throat, his hips moving faster and faster, the bed creaking along with the frantic pace. The blunt, flat edge of Derek's bunny-teeth scraped tantalizingly along the curve of Stiles shoulder and neck, and the man's sharp nails pierced the delicate flesh of Stiles hip and ass, causing the hapless teenager to groan and rock harder against Derek.
Stiles gritted his teeth at the sensitivity of his dick when finally, his orgasm subsided and his body became limp beneath Derek. He was little more than a rag doll for the older man to find his own release, and Stiles was just fine with that. He lay motionless and let his hands glide lazily over Derek's flanks.
It wasn't long before Derek followed him over the cliff edge. The Alpha's body ridged and shaking as he found his own release in his jeans.
Panting, Derek rolled off to collapse next to an equally breathless Stiles. As the lustful haze slowly ebbed away, the reality of what had happened crashed over Stiles like a tidal wave. "Shit!" He snapped breathlessly, scrambling up and away from Derek, eyes wide with guilt. "Shit, shit, shit, I'm sorry."
Derek twisted his head and shoved himself up, turning to stare at a horrified Stiles, who was now hurriedly clawing off the bed and pacing the floor. "Stiles?"
"Shit, I know. " he panted, "I got carried away, I'm sorry. God, I can't believe, shit."
Derek's nose wrinkled at the sudden Sharp tang of Stiles scent, all too familiar and harrowing. He hurriedly climbed out of bed and over to the teenager, grabbing him by the shoulders. Stiles looked up at him, eyes panicked.
"I've ruined everything." Stiles muttered frantically, shaking his head, "I knew you didn't want..."
"Stiles."
"You told me and I..."
"Stiles."
"God, I...I'm no better than..."
"Stiles! " Derek finally shouted, giving the younger man a harsh shake, "Stop."
Stiles looked up at him, surprised and silent.
Derek smiled down at him softly, lowering his head to press a chaste kiss to the teenager's lips. When he pulled back, Stiles was still staring at him, and Derek pressed a large warm palm to the side of Stiles neck. "You did nothing wrong." He said gently. "If anyone should be feeling guilty right now, it's me. I'm the adult here."
Stiles groaned, shaking his head, "Oh my god, dude, I started it."
"And I could have, should have stopped it." Derek muttered, his fingers slowly retreating from Stiles naked shoulders.
Stiles hands clung to Derek's wrists, stopping his retreat, the panic still in his eyes. "Don't. Please don't. Oh my god, why can't we just..." He let out a frustrated strangled sound.
Derek moved in closer, raising his hands to cradle Stiles head, his thumb brushing gently across the teenager's jaw. "Your dad is going to kill me." Derek whispered, pressing his lips too Stiles forehead before capturing the younger man's mouth in a hot open kiss.
"Dad won't know." Stiles leant back, meeting Derek's gaze, "Unless you intend to stalk down to the station and turn yourself in."
"Well..." Derek hummed thoughtfully.
Stiles wacked at his arm, hard, "Don't even joke about it." He warned sternly.
With a laugh, Derek lowered his mouth back to Stiles and wrapped his arms around the teenager's shoulders, moaning softly. They stood there kissing for a few seconds, then Stiles broke away, his nose wrinkling, "I need the bathroom. - And fresh underwear."
"Right," Derek laughed, then winced as he moved away from Stiles. He reached down to adjust himself. "You go clean yourself up, I'll sort you out some stuff."
Stiles grinned dopily at him, "Thanks." As he made his way into the bathroom, he paused, looking back over his shoulder, lip curling mischievously, "You know, we should probably conserve water, with the heatwave and all."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Stiles." Derek muttered breathlessly, "We both know what will happen."
Stiles turned, pressing his shoulder to the door frame, "We'll save the environment." He replied with all seriousness, then started to smirk again. "Besides, we've already broken the no sex before my birthday rule."
Derek inhaled sharply and dragged his hand through his hair, "No." He stated firmly, "That was merely a... - An accident."
"An accident? " Stiles scoffed, "So you...accidentally rubbed yourself off on me?"
Derek let out a quiet growl and flushed scarlet. "We weren't in full control of our...faculties."
"Speak for your..."
"We were both half asleep, " Derek interrupted Stiles' argument, "We can't be held accountable for our...actions in such a situation."
Stiles stared at him, mouth open ready to call bullshit and try once again to persuade the older man to join him in the shower, but...the look in Derek's green eyes, so desperate, so...guilty, Stiles knew if he pushed any more Derek would run for the hills, and there'd be no talking him back down. - And Stiles knew he was responsible for all this, no matter what Derek said. He'd gotten carried away, and even once he'd realized it wasn't a dream, he hadn't made an effort to stop.
A thick wave of nausea rolled over him. He was no better than Kate, using Derek for his own pleasure.
"Hey, stop!" Derek said sharply, gripping his arm. When had he moved so close, Stiles wondered, blinking at him, bemused. "I know what's going on in that head of yours and stop, you did nothing wrong, we just got carried away. We're gonna hit the reset button, okay?"
"Reset." Stiles muttered.
"We're gonna pretend it didn't happen, for both our sakes," Derek told him firmly, "It was just a really incredible dream, right?"
Stiles exhaled a long breath, nodding in agreement, both grateful and disappointed. Then he grinned as Derek's words took root. "Incredible?"
Rolling his eyes, Derek huffed, shaking his head at the teenager, "Yeah. - I can't imagine how the real thing is going to live up to it." He deadpanned, stepping away from Stiles and marching back to the dresser.
Stiles grinned widely and pushed himself off the door frame, "Oh, trust me, dude, the real thing is gonna blow your mind." He reassured, turning and vanishing into the bathroom.
_(*-*)_/
Stiles hurried down the stairs with a spring in his step. Morning sex was as awesome as all the movies made it look, and sure it was followed by a heavy dose of angsty self-loathing on both their parts. - Mostly his. – But they'd talked it through and agreed it was awesome, and they should totally do it again. In 561 days' time.
He'd left Derek to clean himself up seeing that he'd insisted that showering together was against the rules. Damn him. It wasn't as if they couldn't control themselves. They could have totally stood in the shower completely naked, water rolling over all Derek's hard toned muscles and not made grabby hands. He wasn't a Neanderthal.
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Stiles palmed his dick, forcefully telling himself to behave. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, gritting his teeth until his wayward body was back under control. 561 days, he said to himself. Just 561 days.
With the number rolling around in his mind Stiles headed for the kitchen. He found it empty and sighed in relief. They'd all left, which meant they hadn't heard any of what had happened, or at the very least, he wouldn't have to face them just yet.
Stiles yanked open the refrigerator and grabbed the large bottle of milk. It was barely half-full when he lifted it free from the shelf, having drank most of it when he'd woken from his seizure. He chugged down the entirety, gasping breathlessly when he lowered the bottle.
Stiles snagged a can of soda before kicking the door closed, then carried the empty bottle to the sink, giving it a rinse before tossing it in the recycling. He looked around the room, uncertain what to do. He should probably get back to his research, but he was in too a relaxed mood to dive back into the stress of hunting down a murderer, instead he dragged himself to the front door, intending to laze on the porch until Derek was done with his shower and they could spend a few hours smuggled on the couch, making out like teenagers, because Stiles was a teenager and he was finally in a position to live up to the cliché.
His stomach dropped as he opened the door and came face to face with four sets of eyes, all staring at him in an all too knowing way. Shit. He thought bashfully.
"Well, good morning Stiles." Peter said smugly. "Did you sleep well." he smirked.
Siles narrowed his gaze at the man lounging on the porch swing, Lydia's bare feet in his lap. His right hand curled around her ankle. Stiles let his gaze shift over to Lydia, laying propped up against the arm of the swing, a book in her lap as he watched him with a scarlet tinge to her cheeks with defied the smirk on her cherry red lips. "Better than you did, no doubt." Stiles said flatly, folding his arms over his chest and pressing his shoulder into the door frame. "How was the couch?"
Stiles meaning wasn't lost on anyone, especially not Jackson who huffed bitterly behind Stiles.
He turned to see the fellow teenager sitting on the railing at the other end of the porch, coffee mug resting against his thigh. He was staring at Peter with so much loathing that Stiles wondered how long it would be until they came to blows once more. Stiles lifted uncomfortably.
The teenager's eyes dropped to the steps in front of him where Isaac was sat, back to them all, his head bowed as if he could disappear into himself. Something in Stiles twisted with sympathy. He'd been where Isaac was, trapped in the shadows of the chaotic mess that was Lydia and Jackson's relationship, watching the pair fight and make up over and again.
Though it was worse for Isaac wasn't it? Lydia had at least never given him any real indication she felt anything for him. Jackson on the other hand, assuming Derek was right, had at the very least made out with Isaac, boosting his hope before running back to Lydia. Who apparently seemed not to want him anymore.
"Hey Isaac." Stiles greeted, startling the beta. He turned and stared up at Stiles in surprise, his eyes blood shot with shadows beneath.
"Hey." He grunted out and Stiles shot him what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
"So what are you all doing out here?" Stiles asked, keeping his focus on Isaac.
"Would have thought that was obvious." Jackson snapped, "We're escaping your sexcapeds." he sounded bitter, and jealous. Though Stiles doubted that jealousy was aimed at either him or Derek. More likely he was pissed that Stiles was having sex while he wasn't.
Stiles cheeks burned and he cleared his throat awkwardly. He was serious about that sound proofing. "Well...uh..."
Lydia gave a light chuckle, "Don't worry Stiles, Jackson's just pissed he's not getting any." she said sharply, her eyes burning into her boyfriend. – Or ex-boyfriend. It certainly seemed as if things between the pair were done, considering the intense glaring going on between them.
Stiles shifted awkwardly. Called it. He thought, grinning at his feet. "At least the heat has finally broken." he said in a desperate attempt to divert the conversation.
Peter chuckled, "Yes, finally." he said, meeting Stiles gaze. He had a feeling the ex-alpha wasn't only talking about the weather.
Stiles startled as a set of arms curled around his waist, his head snapping around to find Derek smiling at him, his hair wet, his face flushed. His heart skipped, breath hitching. "Hey." he muttered seconds before Derek leant forward to capture his mouth in a chaste kiss. "Hey!" Stiles exclaimed, outraged when Derek sneakily snatched the can of soda from his grip. "Asshole."
Derek ignored him, practically emptying the can, his eyes scanning the porch. "Any news from the Sheriff?" he asked.
Stiles sucked in a breath. He hadn't even thought about his father. Isaac shook his head in reply, turning back to stare out into the woods. Wriggling free of Derek's hold, Stiles breathed out, "I guess I should head home, find out what's going on."
The smile fell from Derek's face and he nodded. "I...yeah. I'll grab the keys." He turned to head back into the house when Lydia spoke, getting to her feet.
"I can drive him."
Derek looked as if he was going to argue, but then he pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. Stiles turned fully to face him, smiling softly. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. After I've spoken to Dad and - grabbed a change of clothes."
Derek frowned, causing Stiles to let out a breathless laugh.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he whispered, not that there was any point while surrounded by werewolves. "No naughty business. I just want some stuff here; you know in case. - I mean, unless you don't want..."
"No. - I mean, yes. That makes sense. In case of...research."
Behind them Peter let out a groan and Jackson made a gagging noise. Stiles flipped them off while pulling Derek into a slow kiss.
Breaking the kiss with a great reluctance, Stiles forced himself to step away. "Later." he said quietly, moving backwards with a soppy grin on his face. As was typical of Stiles, he miscalculated the steps and ended up flat on his ass in the dirt, staring up at the porch. Derek huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, and Stiles just grinned.
"I'm going to be sick." Jackson gagged, moving to leave with Stiles and Lydia, only to have his arm snagged by Derek.
"You're not going anywhere. We need to talk."
Jackson shot Derek a rebellious glare, that was quickly shot down with a flash of Alpha red. "You too Peter." he added, noting the smug look on his uncles face as he moved to join Lydia at the bottom of the steps.
Stiles looked curiously from one to the other, suddenly reluctant to leave. If Derek was going to have 'the discussion' then Stiles felt, he should be there. For moral support, but Derek waved him off.
"Say hi to your dad." Derek smiled, his fingers still wrapped around Jackson's bicep.
"You sure?" Stiles replied.
"Its fine." Derek reassured with a nod.
Heaving a sigh, Stiles began to drag himself away, pausing only when he noticed that Lydia was still stood there, staring up at the group of men, clearly as uncertain about leaving as Stiles was. Reaching out, Stiles grabbed her arm gently and tugged her away, "Come on Lyds."
_(*-*)_/
The drive home was tense. Lydia's fingers tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed on the highway back to town. Stiles sat in the passenger seat, her chem book in his lap. Looking for a distraction he opened it and began to start flicking through the pages. "It's not like he's going to skin them alive." he reassured with an amused huff, though it fell a little flat. "It's just...important pack business."
Lydia scoffed dismissively, "Then why aren't you still there." she countered. "I'm not an idiot Stiles, I know they're talking about me."
"Not just you." he muttered.
"Fine, Me and Jackson." She corrected.
"And Peter. - And Isaac." Stiles added.
Lydia's head snapped around, brows knitted. "Isaac?"
Stiles pressed his lips together and bent a little lower over the book, avoiding her questioning gaze.
"Stiles?" Lydia sing-songed, and he gritted his teeth against the sense memory reaction the sound had over him.
"Look, it's not my place, okay. Talk to Jackson."
She was silent for a few seconds before finally exhaling a long resigned breath, "I wondered how long it would be." she muttered, her eyes back on the road.
Stiles frowned over at her, "What?"
"Jackson and Isaac."
"Wait, you know?" Stiles gaped, surprised. Though in hindsight he didn't know why, this was Lydia after all.
"Did I know that my boyfriend was bisexual? Of course I knew." she replied, sounding insulted. "Did I know he had a crush on the boy down the street? I had my suspicions. Did I know it had gone further than a crush?" she shrugged, "No."
"How long?" Stiles asked, twisting a little in the seat.
"How long have I suspected?" Lydia's gaze flickered over to him and Stiles nodded eagerly. "About as long as I've know you had a thing for me. Middle school." she shrugged, attention back on the road. "I'm pretty sure the only reason he started dating me to begin with was to convince his parents he wasn't like Danny."
Stiles eyes widened with surprise, he hadn't expected Mr and Mrs Whittmore to be homophobes. Not when they'd been so accepting of Danny, but... Well, it was different when it was your own kid, right?
"I don't think they mean to be...you know, homophobic," Lydia said, putting voice to his thoughts. "They just..." she shrugged again, "...want him to be...normal." Her nose wrinkled with disgust. "They'd probably have a meltdown if they knew about his current lifestyle." she smirked wickedly. "A bisexual werewolf," Lydia chuckled, shooting Stiles a bright grin.
Stiles nodded, grinning back. "How did you know he had a thing for Isaac?"
She looked at him with a raised brow that says she knows everything. "I know he tried to get his dad to do something about Isaac's dad but, well... I remember Jackson's frustration and worry for ages, and then...he just...backed off. I don't know what his dad said to him, but..."
"Wow." Stiles shook his head, "I mean, Dad had his suspicions but he could never find any proof." Stiles sighed sadly. "He still regrets it."
Lydia nodded understandingly. "Coach Lahey was pretty well respected, and... feared," she exhaled, "I... I know he had a lot of people in his pocket," her features darkened and Stiles watched her knuckles go white once more.
Stiles didn't press any further, instead going back to the chem book. He tugged at a couple of pieces of paper. Lydia's notes he assumed. "What about you and Peter?" The curiosity was just too much to stand any longer, and if they were apparently in sharing mode, then... "I mean, after what he did how can you even be around him, let alone….?"
She exhaled a tired sigh. "The attack?" she muttered, flinching slightly.
"Yeah, and the mind games." Stiles added.
"The mind games. The hallucinations, they weren't down to Peter, they were on me. The Banshee in me. We're still trying to figure out what it all means, why it happened." she sighed. "It's why I've been spending so much time with him."
"Is that all it is? You're not…?" Stiles asked carefully.
Lydia blushed, chewing on her lower lip before replying. "I... I can't explain it okay, but we have this...thing. This connection. - But it's more than that. He...he just...gets me. He sees me as something more than..." she sighed, "The school bitch. He sees the real me. – I don't have to… pretend around him."
"I saw the real you." Stiles reminded her and she shot him the worst kind of pitying look. "And I didn't try to kill you." He's aware that he sounds jealous and angry, but he can't help it.
"He wasn't in control of himself Stiles." Lydia replied sharply. "You don't know him. - He's not like that, not really. - He... He deserves a second chance Stiles, just like Jackson." She turned to meet his gaze, "Like Derek."
Stiles was pinned by her stare, the tone of her voice making it clear that she knew more than she was willing to actually say, and he felt his gut twist. Was it her Banshee side? Did it allow her to know Derek's greatest secret, and his biggest regret?
Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes away from her and lifted the paper, "What's this?" he asked in a desperate change of subject.
Lydia looked at the drawing and scoffed, "Nothing, just a doodle. I was bored waiting for you and Derek to finish..." her lip curled at the corner as she let the end of the sentence hang in the air.
Stiles stared at her profile for a second before looking back to the sketch of the large tree. "A doodle." he whispered to himself, unconvinced.
He was still staring at the picture when the car suddenly swerved and began to topple over, glass imploding in on them.
