A/N: Longer wait again, but I think you'll find that it was worth it. :-) I do have two jobs, a husband, and an addiction to Star Wars: The Old Republic, after all. It's nice to have something just for fun like this. Thanks again for all your awesome comments!
Enjoy!
The witch was gone. They had no leads. And it was Monday tomorrow, so Derek couldn't stay with Stiles forever; his dad would get suspicious—more so than he probably already was. Although, thankfully, finding them all in their tangle of teenage limbs didn't seem as startling for the Sheriff as the previous morning, since he woke them all up with pancakes. He had actually gotten Sunday off.
Stiles' dad never made pancakes, which was such a shame, because he was spectacular at it—and only that, but hey, one talent was enough when it came to food. He was just always so busy, there wasn't time, or he and Stiles weren't on the same schedule for pancakes to make sense. They used to have monthly 'breakfast for dinner' nights, but not in a long time.
Of course he wasn't quite prepared for just how many pancakes this group could eat.
Without any leads on the witch, and it not being possible—or at least easy—for Derek to continue to stay with Stiles, they decided to all head back to the den after breakfast. Their resources were exhausted and, with everything strangely quiet for once, there wasn't much they could do.
"I'll make another sweep for Deaton. See if I can find out where he went," Scott suggested. "In the meantime I guess we just wait to see if anyone hears anything, and…make sure Derek stays safe." He flashed Derek a crooked grin above his even more crooked jawline.
Derek had seemed both fascinated and disappointed by the den when they first brought him there. Sure, in some ways it was like having a secret hideout, but it was also dark, and cold, and dirty, and not at all like a home—or the Batcave.
Now, he sat on the ratty couch next to Stiles, slumped and not nearly as exuberant. "Sure," he said. "I'm fine. I'll be…fine."
Only Stiles knew that was total bullshit. Most of the time Derek did seem fine, as impossible as that should be given the circumstances, but then this was Derek, and he wasn't the type to fall apart no matter what age he was. Besides, Stiles remembered from when he lost his mom that sometimes you forgot the person was really gone, like it didn't seem real, and only when it was thrust in front of your face did you really feel the ache again. In those moments, Stiles used to just…panic, but everyday life had gone on as normal most of the time.
He knew everyone went through grieving differently, but he had a feeling that maybe being away from Stiles' house, and being in what was now Derek's…home, must have been one of those potent reminders.
Derek lived in an abandoned lair…because his house and everyone he loved had burned.
Almost as immediately as Stiles thought that, watching Derek closely in his periphery, he saw Derek hunch further and his eyes begin to water. Derek was letting the grief wash over him, and those were the moments when a person got to the point when they couldn't stop crying or…when they'd have a panic attack in the middle of a crowded store.
"Why don't we train?" Stiles suggested, knowing better than anyone that distraction was the best medicine at times like these. The others all turned to stare at him. "Well…Derek's always so serious about training you guys, right? This will be a great chance to get a different perspective. How do you train to fight?" Stiles turned to Derek with a warm smile.
Derek brightened, blinking back the dampness in his eyes. "Depends on who I'm training with. Everyone fights differently, and it's good to change it up so you don't fall into the same patterns all the time."
"We usually just fight you," said Jackson.
Reigning in his warring emotions, Derek stood from the couch and pulled on a smile. "For basic training, that's fine, but you should be training with each other a little every day when you're brand new. I still usually train every day, and I was born a wolf. Come here." He gestured to Jackson and the two of them moved out into the open area where Derek usually had the others doing drills.
There were mats lining the floor in this area and the occasional obstacles. Not exactly safe by normal standards, but normal people didn't have healing factors.
Jackson rolled his shoulders as they stood facing each other. "I've had the least training," he said, with the usual scowl prominent on his face.
"Maybe, but Stiles said you were the most naturally athletic before being turned. Captain of sports teams. Really competitive." Derek grinned, a flash of the older Derek apparent in the familiar expression.
Jackson rolled his shoulders again, a corner of his mouth twitching up. "Yeah."
"So you should have better natural instincts, which is a good place to start." Derek hunkered down, casual as you please, and shifted, letting his claws and fangs out and for his eyes to flash red. He looked so small to Stiles, and not really threatening since he seemed to be having fun.
Stiles watched it all from the sidelines, having moved from his spot on the couch to get a better look. An evil part of him kind of wanted to see Derek toss Jackson around a little and beat some humility into him. Jackson could certainly use some. But, as soon as Jackson shifted in kind and the two of them moved toward each other, Stiles was far more pleased with Derek's actual intentions.
Jackson dove forward, blue eyes blazing and fangs bared…only to stumble into empty space where Derek had expertly danced out of the way.
"Come on," Derek said, in his wolfy growl. "What's the general rule for most sports? The best offence…"
"Is a good defense," Jackson said reflexively, stretching his claws and cracking his neck.
Derek nodded as they began to circle each other. "If you let yourself get hit…you've already lost." He charged forward without another word of warning, faking left, only to dash right, getting behind Jackson swift enough to lock him in a grip under his arms. "Too predictable," Derek said, and dashed away again.
Stiles had to grin. Derek wasn't training. He was playing. He was having fun. Looking down the line of wolves watching, Stiles knew that this was entirely out of character—again.
By the time ten minutes had passed, and Derek had bobbed and weaved around Jackson, often getting him into holds or flipping him over onto the mats, but never being caught in return, Jackson was laughing. Jackson didn't even care that he was clearly the loser, because he was having fun too.
"You have to teach me…how you do that," Jackson panted, taking a breath finally, though his eyes were still glowing blue, like he didn't want to stop.
Derek was panting too, though a little less noticeably. He shifted human and stretched his arms back, hopping up and down like he was getting high on the adrenaline. "My sister says it's because I don't over-think."
Stiles felt a little of his mirth drop and his smile fade. Derek was still a good fighter as an adult, but that part definitely wasn't true anymore. Stiles would have put money on young Derek being able to avoid a hit from older Derek easily, because the Derek that Stiles was used to over-thought everything. He was downright paranoid at the best of times. They really needed to figure out a way to break him of that.
Erica hopped off the crate she was sitting on, looking ready to jump in and challenge Derek next. She had a particularly eager expression on her face.
Before she could move out onto the mats, Isaac grabbed her arm. He had that slightly devious look on his face that had really freaked Stiles out the first time he saw it. "We wouldn't want you attempting your usual distraction tactics," he said quietly. "Might scare him away."
Erica pulled her arm back and crossed them over her chest. "You should try it some time. Works wonders."
Stiles hadn't witnessed much of the wolf training, but he had a sneaky suspicion he knew what they were talking about, and the idea made him frown so hard that Scott noticed.
"We could always work out a human-friendly method if you want to train too. You know…in your lacrosse pads," Scott grinned.
Occasionally, Scott did know the right thing to say to snap Stiles back to attention. He slugged Scott in the arm as hard as he could, and even though he knew it probably barely even stung, Scott played it up with an impressive grimace.
"Human-friendly," Stiles grumbled, though he was smiling again. "Just let me dust some powdered wolf's bane on my knuckles and then we'll talk."
Scott laughed. They watched as Isaac changed out for Jackson, and Derek directed Erica and Boyd to spar similarly on the opposite end of the mats. Jackson actually looked relieved to be able to rest and came to stand between Stiles and Scott.
"So…am I allowed to not want him to change back?" Jackson asked.
Immediately Stiles frowned again…because he was thinking the same thing.
By the time it was getting late enough that Stiles had to go home for some quality Dad time, especially since his dad had taken the day off for once and had promised something other than takeout for dinner, Stiles had taken to keeping score and playing cheerleader while the wolves sparred and played on the mats.
Fun as it was, there was method to the madness, because they were all loose, and not thinking too much, and actually starting to be a little unpredictable when they attacked each other, rather than trying the same old tricks. Of course a part of Stiles felt left out, how could he not? But they never really left him out, eventually using him as ref, all trying to get Stiles on their side as to who was superior.
Finally, Stiles called out to the wolves, who were now all sitting or sprawled out on the mats, exhausted. "When I start assigning you guys Fantasy Football stats, then you'll know I've become obsessed. But I gotta get home. Who's all staying here for the night?" He tried to avoid looking at Derek directly, because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to leave if he got caught by those hazel eyes.
"Me and Boyd are going to stay here with Derek," Isaac said.
That alleviated some of Stiles' unease, since there would be two others here with Derek during the night. He didn't like to think of the other boy being left alone, and it made sense that Scott, Erica, and Jackson would all be going home.
Stiles nodded and passed his gaze around the room, catching everyone for a brief nod and smile of farewell before finally resting on Derek. He faltered for a moment before taking a deep breath, trying not to be too swayed by Derek's soft smile. "You'll be fine, and tomorrow, if you want, you should come by the school. We can't exactly sneak you into class, but I'd rather you were close. To us! You know...not anywhere alone where the witch might come and eat you." He grinned as wide as he could manage to make the joke seem genuine rather than desperate.
Derek maintained his soft smile—so damn soft that it really was ridiculous—and nodded in turn.
"Okay..." Stiles said as he shuffled toward the door, tearing his gaze away. "Guess I'll see you guys tomorrow."
Dad time was good—really good. So good that Stiles hated himself for being so distracted with thoughts of Derek. And his dad hadn't even brought any of that up. They'd spent the night eating dinner in front of the TV, watching old episodes of Saturday Night Live—like from the 70s old, when it was really amazing. Then they'd caught up on current events with some reruns of The Daily Show before the Sheriff finally told Stiles to get to bed since it was a school night.
Stiles missed having nights like that, just him and his dad not having to care about anything but the ease of being together. And, if Stiles hadn't been preoccupied with thoughts of Derek, he might have been able to appreciate it fully. He did, he just couldn't help wondering what Derek was doing, how he was doing, and whether or not Stiles would see him the next day at school.
Not to mention whether or not they would ever be able to turn him back into a brooding adult.
The Sheriff only asked Stiles once if anything was wrong, and whether or not he guessed that the 'wrong' had something to do with the boy his son had been sharing a bed with the last couple nights, he didn't press the issue. Because he was awesome like that, enjoyed their time together, and let Stiles go up to bed without any third degree.
Stiles closed his bedroom door behind him and flopped on the bed, lights still on and still in his jeans and T-shirt. He knew he should go straight to bed, but he had a feeling that he would end up staring up at the ceiling for most of the night.
Knock. Knock.
Stiles lifted his head, knowing better than to look at his door because the sound of the knocks had been more like knocking on glass. He looked at his window, stunned into immobility when he saw young Derek perched outside. Stiles lifted up and pulled himself across the mattress only to midjudge his trajectory or strength or something and end up tumbling off the bed to the floor.
Even through the closed window, Stiles could hear Derek laughing. If this had been the older Derek, Stiles would have scowled, but for this Derek...he smiled.
Completely unruffled—he so totally was—from his fall, Stiles jumped up and opened the window for Derek to climb through.
"Do Isaac and Boyd really snore that bad?" he joked.
Derek laughed again. He was still wearing the "Han Shot First" T-shirt that Stiles had let him borrow that morning. "Couldn't sleep. I told them I was coming over here instead and they were pretty cool about it. They didn't seem all that surprised, actually. Guess they both must know what it's like to sleep in...strange places."
Stiles blinked at that explanation. So...what should have been Derek's home was a strange place to him now and Stiles' house was more like home?
Stiles cleared his throat. "Cool...that's...fine. I guess it doesn't matter as long as dad doesn't catch us and start getting the wrong idea." He laughed awkwardly—so awkwardly that someone who had failed Acting 101 would have noticed it was forced. "You're totally welcome to sleep here again."
Derek's bright hazel eyes glimmered gratefully, which was when Stiles finally realized how close they were standing to each other beside the window. "Thanks," Derek said. "I know I keep asking so much of you, you just...help keep me focused, you know?"
Actually, Stiles really didn't know, because he felt entirely scattered around Derek, like he hadn't been on Adderall for weeks. It was awesome. "Sure. I think. Err...guess you need sleep clothes again. We should hit the hay right away since I have school."
Derek just smiled. Stiles used the moment of quiet to pull himself away from Derek's general vicinity and search out clothing for both of them to wear to bed. They had already been through this; it shouldn't feel so intimate and weird again. And yet Stiles changed into pajamas with his eyes closed the whole time.
"That was really fun today," Derek said as they were crawling under the covers—side by side again, close, though Derek didn't immediately snuggle Stiles like a body pillow this time. "Messing around like that really helps wolves get to know each other. Not just because of the fighting, but...the smell, the energy. I feel like I understand everyone so much better now."
"Guess I'll just have to remain a mystery then," Stiles said, meaning the comment as a joke, since he hadn't really been a part of the horsing around wolf-play, but somehow the words came out a little bitter.
Derek frowned at him. "You're different. You're human. You don't have to be part of the wolf things to be part of the pack, and I don't need to wrestle you to the ground to know you."
Stiles tried to distract his thoughts away from images of Derek wresting him to the ground.
"Human members of the pack can be what grounds us, especially on the full moon."
"I thought...you had, like...totems or something to focus on during the full moon. You know, some specific thing to think about as an anchor."
"Well, yeah, and sometimes that is a person, especially if it's someone who believes in us." Derek turned to lie flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Intangible things don't work as well. It has to be something that represents the intangible."
"So...for example, if a wolf's anchor was...anger?" Stiles prompted, because Isaac had told him that story, about the first night the new wolves had dealt with the full moon, and so he knew what Derek had told them.
Derek's brow furrowed, which always made him look more like his older self. "Not my personally favorite choice for an anchor, but as an example, the wolf would need something to think about that made them feel angry. You can't just think about anger in general."
"What do you think about?" Stiles didn't mean to be intrusive—he never meant to be intrusive—but he couldn't held his curious nature.
"Hope," Derek said simply. "Not tied to a specific person, really, but...the dream of someone...someone just for me. Wolves mate for life, you know, but not every wolf finds their mate. That's what I kept thinking about today, even though I didn't want to." He lowered his eyes, even though he was lying down, so that it seemed like he was staring at his feet. "Kate...when she first came to town...I just felt so drawn to her, I thought maybe I'd finally found that other half of me. Thinking about it now, knowing how everything turns out, I...I know I was stupid to think that. Because...I hoped it was her, but I doubted. I wasn't sure. When it's really your mate, you know. There isn't any doubt. You just...know."
Stiles nodded, even though Derek wasn't looking at him. "So I guess wolves don't do much casual dating?"
The question caused Derek to chuckle, which was what Stiles had been hoping for. His eyes flicked up and over to Stiles' face, still bright in the dark. "Sure, and some wolves prefer that, rather than looking for their true mate. But I always wanted what my parents have. They always seem so happy together. They're so strong in how they lead the pack because they...had each other..." He trailed, and Stiles saw that familiar wetness forming in Derek's eyes as he was reminded of the truth again, that they were gone now; everyone was gone.
Beneath the sheets, Stiles slid his hand over until he found Derek's. He squeezed Derek's wrist. "That's a way better anchor than anger," he said.
Their eyes locked, unblinking. Stiles felt Derek's hand shift until it wasn't just his wrist Stiles was squeezing, and their fingers laced together. It felt way too intimate, holding hands in bed together, and with their faces so close that Derek's eyes were hypnotic.
Derek moved so swiftly that one moment, he was staring into Stiles eyes, and the next, he was on him. Their hands were still gripped tight but Derek's body was closer, with his nose digging into Stiles' neck and the base of his hairline, inhaling. "Being away from you...felt like...like my chest was too tight and I couldn't breathe. All I could think about was seeing you again. It's like...like you're..."
"What?" Stiles questioned when Derek didn't complete the thought. Derek's nose tickled, and Stiles felt hot and anxious from their sudden closeness, but he didn't dare move—didn't want to.
Derek didn't answer, just sniffed Stiles more, nuzzling at his neck and snuggling him like he was desperate for the touch—for Stiles' touch. "You smell so good..." he breathed against Stiles' neck, keeping the hand locked between them holding onto Stiles' hand, and gripping Stiles' T-shirt with the other. His hips locked into place around Stiles' thigh and he pressed forward.
Stiles' gasped, because he could feel...he could feel...and Derek was...he was...holy fucking crap. "Derek…?" Stiles said, so not squeaking out the name.
Derek pressed forward again into the side of Stiles' hip, and he was so unexpectedly and undeniably hard. "I think...I think you're mine. Not...not like the others, but...mine." Derek growled the final word, like he must be halfway changed into the wolf.
Stiles shivered. He could already feel himself reacting. "Y-yours?" he said, and then jumped when Derek stopped sniffing his neck only to lick at the spot beneath his ear.
Derek lifted his head, still pressed in tight against Stiles. "Mine," he said again, smiling, like that answered everything. And maybe it did. He simply looked down at Stiles, hips still subtly moving and pressing into Stiles' thigh, and the hand that had been gripping Stiles T-shirt started to drift south.
The progression was slow, tentative, like he was giving Stiles all the time in the world to tell him to stop. Stiles' shirt was already hitched up from the way Derek had been gripping it, so Stiles gasped again when Derek's fingers traced down over his bare belly. It was when Derek kept going, heading for the soft cotton of Stiles' shorts and the newly formed bulge beneath them that Stiles acted.
Rational thought had entirely dissipated from Stiles' brain. He pulled his trapped hand from Derek's grip, grabbed either side of Derek's face with both hands, and tugged the other boy toward him until their lips met in a crash of clumsy need.
Stiles didn't even try to pretend to go for something chaste. He opened his mouth and licked his way inside of Derek's, mesmerized by the smoothness of Derek's face, the velvety warmth of his tongue, and just how pliant and willing he was to accept everything Stiles wanted. Stiles had imagined so many times what kissing Derek Hale might be like. This was so much better.
Derek's other hand paused at Stiles' belly as they kissed, nails scraping gently, promisingly at the skin. "I could feel it right away," he gasped out of the kiss, speaking on, but continuing to kiss Stiles over and over again between words, "I just didn't understand...until now. I need to be around you. When I'm not…it all just creeps up again, like I'm suffocating, and I can't stop thinking about...the fire, and how everyone's gone, and…I just can't breathe. But when I'm with you, I feel like I can handle anything, like it's all going to be okay, like…I'm not broken. Like I'm...me."
Stiles was too stunned by this admission to say anything in reply but, when Derek kissed him again, harder this time and deep, he didn't struggle or pull away. He wanted to cloy Derek's dark emotions right out of him, heal him with the kiss, and make everything better. He knew it wasn't that easy, knew so well—too well—but he wanted to try. Because this was Derek, really Derek, and Stiles had never really met him before. Derek was strong, and even if he was broken, that feeling wouldn't last forever.
Slowly, as they continued to kiss, Derek's hand began to move again, down over the cotton of Stiles' shorts, where slightly shaky fingers traced the outline of Stiles' cock, palmed him gently through the fabric, and squeezed.
"W-wait!" Stiles gasped, biting back a yelp. He was turned on so much just from their liplock, let alone Derek gyrating against his hip, and now... "H-Hang on...okay? We n-need to...slow down. Because I'm g-gonna come like a twelve-year-old...in about twenty seconds."
"Then do it..." Derek whispered hotly against his lips.
Stiles shuddered, because that kind of hot was so not fair. "Just...hold on a minute, okay?" He reached down and grabbed Derek's wrist, which was attached to the hand holding Stiles' cock through his shorts, and...wow—Stiles had amazing self-control, and it freaking sucked. "This is too fast. Too...weird. It's not like I don't...really want to, believe me, but...I just..."
Derek released Stiles and slid his hand back up to the safety of Stiles' belly. His hazel eyes looked stormy. "I'm sorry. It all just kind of overwhelmed me when I realized that you're..." He didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was implied.
Stiles was Derek's...
Nope. Stiles could not think about that right now, because if he thought about that then he would not be able to control himself. They shouldn't do this. Not now. There were too many unknowns and complications.
Stiles really hated being the sensible one sometimes.
Derek looked lost and ashamed as he slid his hand completely away and scooted back his body. "I'm so sorry, Stiles, I just...I thought..."
Stiles grabbed Derek's face again and forced those now distant hazel eyes to look at him. "You thought right, dude, okay? So totally right. I kissed you, remember? And the other evidence was pretty...apparent. I just...I feel like we should take a rain check on the finale. Just for awhile. Everything's kind of fucked up right now, and...I wouldn't want to..."
"Take advantage of me?" Derek asked with a crooked smile, leaning into Stiles' touch on his cheeks. "This isn't a soap opera," he added, "I wanted to be taken advantage of. But I get that I was moving things too fast. I just have all these...intense feelings for you...and I don't know what to do with them."
Oh, Derek knew what to do with them, and it was awesome, but Stiles just couldn't shake the thought of older Derek coming back and kicking his ass for this—and, for the record, their lives certainly felt like a soap opera half the time, especially all the Scott and Alison parts.
Stiles couldn't think about any of this right now—he couldn't think, and that was the problem. He didn't want to do anything he'd regret. That would ruin everything.
"You and all your feelings are very welcome here," Stiles said, "So very welcome. But can we just...put a pause on this for right now? Just a pause...not a stop."
Derek's eyes softened and he nodded, lifting his own hands up to place over Stiles' hands on his face. "Yeah. If I can kiss you again," he said, pulling Stiles' hands down and tugging to pull Stiles in closer.
This kiss was softer, unhurried and less anxious without thoughts of pushing for anything further. As much as Stiles enjoyed the taste and feel of Derek's lips, the kiss helped calm him down, and he could physically feel his pulse slowing by the time they were pulling apart.
"That's better. I thought your heart was going to explode for a second there."
Stiles laughed. Wolf cheater.
"So...should we just go to bed?"
"Yeah...we should."
"But...rain check, right?"
Stiles looked into Derek's eyes, still so close to his, their bodies touching in so many small, seemingly insignificant places that made him that much more comfortable and content. He smiled. "Definitely."
tbc...
Thanks again for reading!