"Why do we have to see Gramma," Stiles asked as Derek opened the guest room door, his fingers still wrapped around his bleeding hand. He had a cold sweat building on his forehead from the loss of blood, and he was feeling extremely nauseated.
"Because Alphas have the ability to heal." Derek said without further explanation as he walked in, and then strode evenly over to the bed and sat on the edge. "Gramma, you awake?"
"How could I sleep with all that racket," Gramma said with a mumble, lifting her hand up but she kept her back turned towards them. "Come, Stiles."
Stiles hesitated, looking suspiciously at Derek and then Gramma. From what he remembered about werewolves there was nothing in there about 'healing'.
"Like, what are the after effects of this healing thing," He asked, and Derek rolled his eyes, kissing Luna's head before he commented.
"Stiles, don't be dumb. Just let her heal you."
"I'm serious, what are the side effects."
"Not being dead," Derek said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Gramma gave an indignant huff as she pulled herself up, grumbling under her breath as she got off the bed. Stiles stepped back at first, but she was quick to grab his wrist with a jarring motion.
"Wa-wait, not-" Stiles protested, but Gramma shushed him abruptly. She closed her eyes and he kept quiet, feeling the pain leave his arm and a cooling numbness emerge in its place. After a minute, she sighed and moved away, putting up her arms towards Derek. Without so much as an objection, Derek passed her Luna. Luna smiled at Gramma, a little coo sounding from her lips as she curled into the woman's chest.
"Take him elsewhere and leave me and Luna to ourselves. We'll take a nap."
"Okay, Gramma," Derek said, moving off of the bed. He motioned for Stiles to follow him. Stiles was too busy looking at his wrist, which was healed to the point of scarring. In his astonishment, he hardly noticed Derek's hand go towards his shirt. He did however feel the yank of the other's hand as he tugged him out of the room by his sleeve. "Don't piss off Gramma." He scolded Stiles as he shut the door behind them, and Stiles gave him an offended glare.
"Don't piss off Gramma? Okay, I get it," Stiles said as he looked at Derek, and Derek turned away to go down the steps. Stiles followed. "Did you guys do what you needed to do?" Derek didn't say anything as he stepped into the living room, walking over to the couch and falling back on it. He looked comfy within a matter of seconds as he reclined, looking over at Stiles.
"Yeah." Derek said, looking up and down at Stiles. "There a reason you're still holding the bloody shirt?"
Stiles opened his mouth, but really he didn't have a comeback. He shut it quickly and walked out of the room, throwing it in the kitchen wastebasket. By the time he rounded the corner back into the living room, Derek had turned on the television, which was still the screen of the Kirby game Stiles had been playing.
"So you played video games with her when I said television made her grouchy," Derek observed as he picked up the Wii mote that was on the couch. He unfroze the game and started playing. Stiles stared for a moment, and then raised his eyebrows.
"It's a game. She was entertained. Look, I don't have siblings. I said I could handle her but clearly I need an Idiot's Guide to babysitting." Stiles moved to the couch, sitting on the other side of it as he watched Derek play. The guy was pretty good at video games, his hand-eye coordination must have been perfect. "You're pretty good at this...uh, you play a lot?" He asked, trying to make casual conversation.
Derek didn't take his eyes off the screen. "Nope. Don't own a Wii."
Stiles looked over at Derek with a critical amount of skepticism. He had to be lying. No one was this good and never played. "Friends house?"
"Played one at a Target once," He finally said, beating the level. The other looked over at Stiles with a slight smirk. Stiles squinted at him and then pointed at the Wii.
"You've played it once and you're that good." He stated, and then looked at Derek with a serious expression. "You have to turn me into a werewolf, this seems like it's the ultimate cheat code and I need this."
"You don't want it," Derek said with a sigh, shutting off the Wii and then switching off the television with the remote. He put the pair of remotes on the coffee table in front of them and then fell back on the couch, looking at the blank television set. Stiles took this as a sign Derek was contemplating his request, and he moved towards the other, studying his face closely.
"Now, try to fill me in on the bad parts of whatever you and your family are. Super strong, super fast, amazing hand-eye coordination, great at everything, basically," He was ticking off each of the positives on his fingers. "Then there's the whole healing thing, and I don't really get it but how is any of this bad?"
"Because you don't know all of it, Stiles," Derek said shortly, and Stiles froze in his spot. The other's tone had gone from pleasant to serious, and he could tell that whatever information he was trying to pry out of Derek- it was making him extremely angry. It made Stiles think twice of starting on the same topic again, but the curiosity was already there and it was growing even with the negative responses from Derek.
"So tell me all of it. How does one become a werewolf? You said a bite, right? Alpha bite?"
"I don't want to talk about it right now. Switch topics," Derek said as he looked away, staring at the photographs on the wall. Stiles didn't switch topics.
"Why, what's wrong with this one? Your mom said I should ask you about what I need to know. I'm asking you because I should probably know."
"It's not important right now. You're pissing me off." Derek warned him, giving him a pointed glare again.
"I don't care if it pisses you off, I'm asking you a question because I want to know." Stiles insisted, his voice forceful as he met Derek's glare with his own. "No amount of looking at me with your- I don't know, your face-"
"What about my face?" Derek asked, still looking very displeased.
Stiles struggled to find the words, but he finally blurted out, "I don't know, you and your really expressive eyebrows. It's not deterring me from the point. Tell me about the damn turning thing."
Derek snorted at Stiles' comment, and then waved him away as he reached for the remote again. With a quick movement, Stiles grabbed the remote before the other had the chance and he sat on it. Derek looked at Stiles' ass, and then back at Stiles with his eyebrow raised inquisitively. "Really."
"I really want to know more about the werewolf thing, man. Come on. Just tell me about it."
"I told you, I'm not in the mood." Derek tried repeating calmly, but when Stiles continued to look at him expectantly, he reached under the other's ass to grab the remote. Stiles gave a loud grunt in protest as he grabbed the remote first and tossed it across the room.
"I can and will do this all night until you tell me," Stiles admitted, his voice cold. "Tell me." He could sense the other was feeling cornered, and that was always the point when he received the information he requested. It didn't matter who it was, it always worked. His method of wearing the person down never failed.
Well, until now, that was. Even though Stiles was sure Derek was about to give, the other moved closer, and then got right up to his face so their noses were almost touching. "I don't feel like it," Derek reminded Stiles, his eyes unblinking. Stiles stared, feeling the hairs on his arms prickle from the chill he was experiencing as the other moved closer.
"Well I don't give a shit." Stiles said, not backing down. He kept his eyes unblinking and they locked gazes. With tension high, Derek shoved Stiles lightly to get him to flail his arms outwards. "Hey!" He wasn't expecting the other to move even closer, making him fall on his back on the couch. As Derek pinned the other, faces still close, Stiles squinted and repeated, "I don't give a shit. You tell me or I swear-"
"You'll what?" Derek questioned, cutting into Stiles' threat. "I could rip your throat out right now. With my teeth. You would be dead in seconds. What are you going to do to me if I don't tell you?"
"I'm...well that's just rude," Stiles objected, trying to shove Derek off of him with his knees. When the other didn't budge because he was literally like a statue on top of him, he frowned. "You're a guest and you're threatening to kill me in my own house."
"You pissed me off." Derek pointed out as he looked at Stiles' lips, then back at his eyes. Stiles felt his heart skip a beat as he started squirming under the other.
"You weigh like a thousand pounds," Stiles said as he tried shoving Derek off of him, meeting great resistance to his frantic efforts to move him. "Seriously, I break easily, get off. Quit eyeing my neck. I get it, the threat's real, you're going to rip my throat out with your teeth."
"Or I could just, you know. Make out with you." Derek said halfheartedly. Stiles blinked, eyes widening.
"You...no, about that," Stiles began, and then stopped as he searched for the words to say carefully. "...you know I'm not into guys, right? I mean, there's nothing wrong with you, you're clearly a really desirable guy with your...face being like that and your perfectly sculpted body, but I'm not..."
"Interested?" Derek questioned.
"Oh, I'm not not interested, but I'm not...whatever this is, you're coming on way too strong," Stiles admitted. He could feel his cheeks reddening as he glared at Derek. "Dude, seriously. Just get off me."
Derek begrudgingly moved off the other, though he did it with a slight smirk at Stiles' comment. As he pulled away, Stiles heard a voice from behind the couch.
"Dude. I knew it!" Scott exclaimed. Stiles moved quicker than he ever had as he propped himself up on the couch, immediately objecting to Scott's comment. How long had Scott been standing there?
"Scott, no. Just no. It wasn't like that. When did you even-"
"I was standing here for like a minute, you were all focused on each other, don't be embarrassed. I mean, I'm not against two dudes being in love. I didn't want to ruin the moment." Scott looked at Stiles as he walked over and leaned on the back of the couch. Not so secretly, he whispered loudly to Stiles, "If you're breaking up with him I think you might be doing it wrong, dude."
"Scott, there was no moment," He assured him, glaring at a rather smug Derek on the other side of the couch. "He's just a dick. And breaking up? I mean, we're friends. Friends." He got up off the couch. "Well it's probably almost time to go get my dad, let's go. Scott. Just Scott. Derek, you can eat whatever you want in the fridge, just don't follow us."
"Got it." Derek smirked as he got up and walked over to fetch the remote, then sat back on the couch. "See you later Stiles."
"Yeah, whatever. Later." Stiles said as he headed for the door, grabbed his keys, opened the door and slammed it behind him. Scott opened it again and followed him out, jogging to keep up with him as he got in the jeep.
"Dude, that was..." Stiles put up his hand as Scott climbed into the vehicle, stopping him mid-sentence.
"It was gay, I know. I am fully aware of how gay that just was."
"I was going to say hot, is that weird?" Scott asked, buckling his seat belt into the catch. "I mean, I can tell the guy is hot. You got a hot guy interested in you. You should be proud. I wish I had hot people interested in me."
"Shut up, Scott," Stiles said with a sigh as he started the jeep.