Author's Note: So, I feel like now is where I should probably point out that Stiles is 17 here. Where I'm from the age of consent is 17 but in California it's 18, and BH is in California so Stiles is still technically underage.
If that makes you uncomfortable in any way you'll probably want to bail out now before shit gets real. This chapter is relatively tame in regards to the sexytimes stuff, but the same can not be said for what's coming up.
Sprinting into the clinic felt like trying to run through Jell-O. Stiles' legs nearly gave out as he shoved through the front door, ignoring the bell ringing above his head to focus on the tear soaked hunter holding open the barrier for him.
"What the hell happened?" Stiles demanded, stopping his forward charge to pull Allison into his arms, tucking her head up under his chin just as Derek came in behind him.
Allison gasped through a fresh wave of tears, shaking as Stiles held her. "He was- Running patrol with Malia."
"Jackson said hunters?" Derek asked gently, running a gentle hand over Allison's hair in comfort.
She nodded, lifting red-rimmed eyes to look between them. "Wolfsbane bullet." she shuddered, her fingers twisting in the fabric of Stiles' hoodie as tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked. "He... He almost died, Stiles."
"Shh, I've got you." Stiles pulled her back in, murmuring softly and sending a pleading look at Derek.
Derek nodded, ducking through the door into the exam room. Stiles let Allison cry into his chest, listened to the others talking just beyond the doorway.
"Scott." Derek's voice was an angry, worried rumble in the silence.
"I'm gonna kill them, Derek." Scott said, his tone the kind of calm that scared Stiles, the kind that spoke of just how close he was to straddling the line and loosing. "I'm going to fucking tear them apart."
"Hey." There was the dry rasp of skin against skin, the rustle of fabric, then Derek's voice again. "Just tell me what happened."
"It's my fault." Malia's voice cut in, all sharp, clipped syllables. "I was tracking a scent, didn't realize it was a trap until I heard the gun click. Isaac... He tackled me out of the way, caught the shot."
"He's going to be okay, though?" Derek asked, the almost parental plea clear in his tone and making Stiles' heart clench.
Isaac was the first for Derek, the first teenager he saved with the bite. Of course Jackson had been the actual, literal first to receive Derek's bite, the first one turned at Derek's hand. But, where Jackson hadn't needed saving, had just wanted the power that came with being a wolf after having seen what it did for Scott, Isaac was different. He'd needed someone, a champion, a hero, who could show him the way out, guide him away from a life of being beaten on a regular basis by the very man meant to protect him. Derek had done that, given Isaac the power to save himself and a family that would lay their lives down for his.
While it hadn't always been like that, and Derek's motives may not have been the purest back in the beginning, the end result was the same. They were family, all of them, and Isaac had been the start of it. He was the one Derek chose, the first choice he got to make because he wanted to and not because someone else forced or coerced him into it. Derek always saw Isaac as the first thing he'd gotten right, the decision he'd never regret making no matter how hard they'd had to fight to get there.
Deaton's voice responded, trying to reassure. "Thankfully, the bullet missed Isaac's heart, as well as all of his vital organs." he explained calmly. "I'm hesitant to make any definitive statements on his prognosis until after he wakes, but I think Isaac's chances are high for a full recovery."
Allison shifted in Stiles' arms, wrapping one arm around his waist to lean against him, letting him hold her up. He didn't resist when she steered them toward the back, apparently having decided she was finished allowing herself a moment of vulnerability.
"What kind of wolfsbane is it, then?" Derek was asking when Stiles and Allison entered the room.
Stiles tried not to let his emotions take over at the sight of Isaac, limp and pale where he was laid out on the metal exam table in the room's center, the front of his blue t-shirt soaked purple and black with blood. His eyes were closed, his skin ashy and waxen under the harsh fluorescent lights.
"A rare strain, one that targets the wolf's neurological functions rather than their cardiovascular system." Lydia said, drawing Stiles' eyes, her own eyes blood-shot and wet, rimmed with smudged mascara. "If Jackson hadn't thought to grab the hunter's gun we might not have been able to stop the poison before it could do any lasting, critical damage. As it is, we'll just have to wait and see."
Derek and Scott both growled at that, and Allison left Stiles' side to go to Scott, wrapping her arms around his vibrating shoulders from behind and pressing her nose into the curve of his neck, shushing him softly.
"The hunter who did it?" Stiles asked, pressure in his gums letting him know that his fangs were eager to drop.
It was Jackson who answered this time, tone icy and eyes flashing blue. "Dead."
"So much for not inciting a war." Stiles said, no judgment or admonishment in his voice. He knew without question that he'd have done the same thing in Jackson's position.
"And the rest of them?" Derek asked, shifting closer to Stiles' side, the warmth of his body bleeding through the thickness of Stiles' sweatshirt not enough to even momentarily distract him from the bloodthirst burning in his throat.
Malia sneered, her own eyes glinting with an unquenched thirst for revenge. "They ran. Jackson said that getting Isaac to Deaton was the priority-"
"Of course it was." Allison interrupted, her hand a steady anchor where it lay over Scott's heart in an effort to ground him.
"So, we let them go." Malia finished, her tone making it clear that she'd have much rather torn the hunters limb from limb on the spot.
"Not for long." Stiles growled, turning on his heel to make for the door.
Before he could make it more than a step there was a hand curling around his elbow, jerking him back. "Where do you think you're going?" Derek asked evenly, brows drawn down over the bridge of his nose.
Stiles shook off his hand, allowed the shift to ripple through him enough that his fangs partially unsheathed and his eyes burned Gold. "To find the rest of them and tear them apart." he snarled.
"Not a chance in hell." Derek growled thickly, the outermost ring of his irises glowing. "You can't go charging into a hunter camp by yourself because you're angry, Stiles."
"Angry?" Stiles spat as Scott rose from his stool, fists clenched tight around fully extended claws. "I'm not angry, I'm fucking livid! They shot Isaac, Derek! Shot to kill, not to injure. They tried to shoot Malia! What are we supposed to do? Sit and wait for them to come to us?"
"You're not helping!" Allison snapped, her fingers digging into Scott's sides so hard that the skin around them was bloodless white, her feet planted firmly in an effort to hold him back from leading the charge.
Derek reached out again, this time to snag Stiles by the neck of his hoodie. He pulled him in, let the electric blue recede into green and said softly, "You need to calm down and think, Stiles. Our Alpha, your brother, is too close to the edge. He can't see anything beyond the fact that the man he loves is laying on that table because of a bunch of psychotic hunters." Derek's eyes glittered with something knowing, an ember of knowledge that made Stiles' breath catch and swell behind his breastbone. "If you guys go into this fueled by revenge, you'll both pay for it with your lives. Do you want to see Scott killed over a vendetta?" Derek asked, his tone calm but deadly serious.
Stiles, shaking with the effort of restraint, looked Derek in the eye, found strength and determination glowing in their depths. He let Derek's scent flood his senses, allowed it to engulf and surround him, anchor his wolf before his human half lost its grip and the wolf could seek revenge for its pack. Risking a quick glance over Derek's shoulder to where Scott was struggling not to fight Allison's hold on him, Stiles found his best friend waging a similar battle with his instincts, Scott's face a mask of rage and a pain so intense it made Stiles' body throb in sympathy.
Stiles returned his attention to Derek and forced his eyes to bleed back into their human shade, fought to reign in the shift singing through his bloodstream, tamped down on the howl building in his chest, the promise of an eye for an eye, blood for blood.
"We'll take care of the hunters, I promise." Derek murmured the vow, his gaze never wavering from Stiles'. "But we'll do it as a pack, and we will do it the right way."
In the tense silence that followed Stiles latched onto his anchor, let Derek's mere presence bring him back to himself so that he could see things clearly and objectively rather than through the crimson haze of retribution. Allison coaxed Scott into sinking back onto the stool he'd vacated, dropping his head into his hands as she draped her body over his back and whispered soothing words into the back of his neck. Lydia let Jackson wrap an arm around her shoulders, press a tender kiss to her temple while both of them stared at Isaac's prone form.
"Malia!" Kira's terrified voice pierced the veil of quiet as she tore through the waiting room, two sets of familiar footsteps not more than a step behind.
Derek pulled Stiles out of the way just in time for Kira to barge through the door and launch herself across the room, dragging Malia into the circle of her arms.
"I'm fine, Kira." Malia assured gently, wrapping her arms around Kira's tiny waist and burying her nose in her hair. "I swear, okay? I'm alright."
"Don't ever do that again!" Kira scolded through the thickness of tears, her arms a tight band around Malia's neck.
"Oh, Isaac." Melissa breathed, her eyes finding him the same way Stiles' had, tears brimming in her eyes for the boy who was her own as much as Scott and Stiles were. "Oh my God."
Sheriff Stilinski raised an inquisitive brow at Stiles, asking without words if he was alright. Stiles gave a jerky nod, a sharp dip of his chin, that the Sheriff accepted without a word.
The room erupted into a chaotic burst of sound, the new arrivals wanting to know what happened while everyone else tried to explain. Scott and Allison faced a crying Melissa, the Sheriff went right for Malia and Jackson, asking for every detail they could remember in the hopes that he could do something from a legal standpoint, and Kira refused to leave Malia's side through it all, her fist clenched in the thin cotton fabric of Malia's t-shirt as if keeping her from slipping off the face of the Earth by sheer force of will alone.
"This isn't right." Stiles mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. He pushed a hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp while his mind whirred, already running through battle plans. "We have to do something."
He didn't have to look to know it was Derek's palm sliding against his, Derek's fingers threading between his and squeezing gently. Still, when he did look over it was to find Derek already looking back at him, his eyes hard and determined.
"We will." Derek swore, his thumb swiping in grounding lines across the fleshy pad below Stiles' thumb. "We will."
The sun was high in a clear blue morning sky by the time Derek could convince Stiles to leave the clinic. Stiles was heart-set on staying by Scott's side, keeping himself awake all through the night in order to be there for Scott and Allison, both of whom refused to leave Isaac's side no matter how hard their parents tried to push them into going home and getting some sleep. Even Chris threatening to hogtie the pair of them hadn't been enough to force Allison and Scott away from Isaac's bedside.
"Go, Stiles." Scott told him when Derek once again brought up leaving. Scott dragged Stiles into a crushing hug before releasing him with a squeeze of his nape and a push toward the door. "One of us will call if anything changes."
Stiles frowned deeply below exhausted eyes, his wolf feebly whining in protest. "Are you sure? I can stay and-"
"Stiles." Derek sighed, one hand in the small of Stiles' back to help urge him outside.
Stiles yawned, mouth so wide his jaw cracked. "Yeah, okay." he grumbled, casting one last look at Isaac, who had been moved onto a folding cot during the night and looked like he was sleeping rather than healing from a nearly fatal gunshot wound. "As soon as he wakes up." Stiles called back over his shoulder as Derek ushered him out into the waiting room.
"Glare all you want, Stiles. You need to sleep." Derek suppressed his own yawn as he opened the front door and led Stiles outside.
"Scott and Allison need to sleep, too." Stiles replied, a hint of petulance glossing his words even as the scent of exhaustion swirled thickly around him. "It's their mate who almost died, Der. I can't even imagine..." The rest of his words were swallowed up by another yawn.
"Let their parents worry about them, while I worry about you." Derek guided Stiles to the Toyota and opened the passenger side door, gesturing for Stiles to climb in. "I promised your father that I would look out for you while he and Parrish followed up on a lead. You wouldn't want me to break a promise to your dad, would you?"
"Low blow." Stiles grumbled halfheartedly. It was truly a testament to how tired Stiles was that he didn't even argue beyond that, simply dragged himself up into the seat and collapsed against it. "I don't-"
"Need me to protect you, yeah I know, I remember." Derek chuckled dryly as he shut the door and made his way around to the driver's side, cutting off whatever Stiles had been trying to say.
Once inside the SUV, Derek turned the heat up and the radio down, glancing over at Stiles in time to watch his eyelashes flutter closed. Derek's heart felt like it was free falling toward the ground, it's weighted thump skipping in its rhythm at the sight of Stiles this trusting and vulnerable.
"Doesn't mean I won't do it anyway." Derek grinned softly, listening to the tiny, breathy sounds of Stiles sinking into sleep as he shifted into gear and drove out of the lot.
Stiles drifted slowly into consciousness, his head feeling groggy and heavy where it rested on his pillows. He blinked open bleary eyes only to be greeted by the sight of Derek's hip, jean clad and throwing out warmth, a mere inch away from his face. Stiles knew it was Derek even without being able to see beyond the dark wash of denim, his scent enveloping Stiles like a second blanket, comforting and familiar. Taking in a deep draw of that earthy, wild scent, Stiles felt his wolf settle further into sleep, as if lulled by it.
Rolling onto his back, Stiles scratched lazily beneath his t-shirt at the trail of hair leading down from his navel, yawning wide and noisy.
"I was starting to wonder if I'd have to use a dog whistle to get you out of bed." Derek said, the soft timbre of his voice making a pleasant sort of chill skitter over Stiles' skin.
"Dog jokes, Derek?" Stiles sighed exaggeratedly, fixing his sleep creased face in a disappointed frown. "And here I thought those were beneath you."
Derek scooted down the bed and onto his side, propping his head in his hand so he could smile down at Stiles. "Never thought I'd get to return the favor." he said with a one shouldered shrug.
Stiles snorted, ignoring the way his blood heated at the smile Derek wore, a smile that made Stiles' bones feel like they were dissolving. Waking up to a sight like that should be outlawed. How was a person's day ever supposed to get better when Derek Hale's smile was one of the first things they saw when they opened their eyes?
"Time is it?" Stiles questioned sleepily, rolling onto his side so he could steal some of Derek's body heat by curling up toward his chest, not close enough to touch but near enough to feel the vibration when he spoke.
"Almost six." Derek said, voice low as he tentatively reached out to run his free hand down the gentle slope of Stiles' side, over the bumps of his ribcage and the jut of his hip, as if testing whether or not he was allowed.
Stiles hummed his approval and scooted closer, erasing the hair's distance between them until he was huddled into Derek, face pressed into the hard plane of his chest and arms tucked between them. "Did you sleep?"
"Little bit." Derek said, the tone of his voice carrying with it the pleased curve of his mouth as his thumb dipped between the hem of Stiles' shirt and started dragging gentle caresses across the skin stretched tight over Stiles' hipbone.
Stiles shivered as a breath caught behind his sternum, his skin buzzing where Derek touched him. "Any news?" he asked, trying desperately to cling to the importance of the question while his brain filled with the thick fog of having Derek so close, of having Derek in his bed.
"Allison called." Derek informed him, his words still coming out hardly more than a gentle murmur as he let his head drop onto his bicep. When he spoke again Stiles could feel the words, breath hot and whisper soft against his scalp. "Nothing urgent, just that Melissa was taking them back to her house to rest while Erica and Boyd sat watch with Isaac. He's still out but, from what Deaton said, he should be awake by morning."
Relief washed through Stiles like a balm, soothing some of the tension he'd been carrying around. He relaxed further into Derek's space, wriggling around to find more contact. His nose fit right into the hollow of Derek's throat as he draped one arm around Derek's waist. "You could have woken me up." he mumbled, though he had to admit he was glad Derek hadn't. Waking up to this was so much better than being woken by a phone call.
Derek shuddered as Stiles' breath ghosted over his throat, his wolf echoing the movement even as he rolled over and bared his belly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth around a goofy lupine grin. Derek huffed a laugh, amused at both his wolf and his... Stiles. "You were dead to the world when I brought you upstairs-"
"Please tell me you used the fireman's carry." Stiles interjected, his tone pleading.
He hadn't really had time to ponder exactly how he'd gotten upstairs and into his own bed upon waking, but it made sense that Derek had carried him. After all, the last thing he remembered was Derek ushering him out of Deaton's and into his Toyota. Still, the idea of being one hundred percent unconscious while Derek carried him made him feel weirdly vulnerable but somehow entirely safe at the same time.
"Full on bridal style." Derek chuckled. He could feel the flush creeping onto Stiles' cheeks, his own skin warming where Stiles mashed his face into his neck. "You're heavier now than you were as a human." he added, hoping to set Stiles at ease by slipping into more familiar territory.
"Oh, bite me." Stiles laughed, shoving at Derek playfully. "I've never been in better shape. You should see my abs, dude." he said as he rolled halfway onto his back, drawing his shirt up to display the muscles in question. "Look at these bad boys."
While Stiles had always been lithe and strong, he'd never really had much definition. As a human he'd been all long, lean muscles and compact power. Now, as a wolf, Stiles' abdomen was made up of ridges and valleys, swells and dips of hard muscles. The deep cuts of his pelvis were smooth and mouthwatering, a perfect V to frame the doubtlessly beautiful cock that Derek could just barely make out the bulge of behind the zipper of Stiles' jeans.
Derek swallowed hard as his scent changed, something darker and heavier settling in place of the lighter, content scent of the moment before. Stiles' eyes glittered with humor when he glanced up at Derek, only to dilate and glaze over when he registered the change.
Licking his lips, Stiles shifted back onto his side and wiggled around a bit, scooching up the bed until they were laying face to face. "Thank you." he said seriously, taking Derek by surprise.
"For what?" Derek questioned, brows dipping down over eyes that tracked every minute shift of Stiles' face like they couldn't help it.
A slow smile spread across Stiles' face and he reached up between them to cup one hand to Derek's stubble-rough jawline. "For looking out for me, making sure I didn't get all of us killed last night."
"I thought you didn't want me trying to protect you?" Derek challenged, fighting back another shudder from the feeling of Stiles' thumb stroking softly over the facial hair that peppered his cheeks.
"Derek?" Stiles asked quietly. When Derek hummed a response, he added, "Shut up and accept my gratitude without the sarcasm."
Derek didn't get a chance to respond, not when Stiles was pressing their lips together, not when his fingers were curling around the back of Derek's neck, molding flawlessly to the contours of his skull as he pressed forward. Derek's grip tightened on Stiles' waist, pulled him in tight and flush until there was no room left between them for anything but the thin fabric of the t-shirts separating them.
The fleeting thought that this was a bad idea nudged at the back of Stiles' mind. There was still so much that they needed to talk about, so many things that they needed to figure out before they could take this leap. But he couldn't make himself stop, couldn't bring himself to pull away from the subtle burn of Derek's body where they were nearly fused together, couldn't force himself to release Derek even if only to draw the breath his lungs were just starting to scream for.
Stiles sank further into Derek, arching into him when he felt Derek's flattened palm sear into the small of his back, urging him closer still despite the lack of space between their smoldering bodies. Stiles' fingers slid into Derek's hair, threading through silken strands only to twist and tangle there. Derek moaned low, sensation zinging from his scalp to the tips of his toes. Taking advantage of Derek's slightly parted lips, Stiles flicked his tongue against Derek's teeth until he opened, thrusting his own tongue out to greet it.
They kissed slow and unhurried while Derek's fingers danced over Stiles' skin, slipped up under his t-shirt to skim along his spine, followed the ridges of his ribs and down. Stiles sucked in a jagged breath when Derek's fingertips glided along the bumps of his abs, the muscles clenching and quivering under his touch.
"Derek." Stiles gasped on a shuddering breath when the very tips of Derek's fingers snuck under the waist of his jeans.
Derek mouthed along the freckled angle of Stiles' jaw, leaving a wet trail of scorched skin down to his throat. Stiles' fingers tightened in Derek's hair when Derek's teeth closed none too gently over the pulse pounding in his neck.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me, Stiles?" Derek whispered into his skin, tongue slipping out to trace the quickly fading indents of his teeth. "How your scent makes me crazy, but somehow centers me all at the same time." he murmured, nosing up the line of Stiles' throat and inhaling gently. "How your fucking mouth makes my head swim and my entire body throb."
Stiles whimpered, tipping his head back to grant Derek more access when he nuzzled at the fleshy softness beneath Stiles' ear. He wrapped one leg around Derek's waist, his thigh nestled into the soft dip of Derek's side."If you're trying to kill me, there are less sexy ways to accomplish that."
Derek growled, deep and rolling, as he buried his face in Stiles' neck and dotted warm, slightly damp kisses to his skin. "That's not even a little funny."
Stiles laughed thinly, his chest feeling swollen and torn open at the tender way Derek kissed him juxtaposed with the fierce, protective edge lacing his words. "Okay, Der. Okay." he agreed easily, skimming his hand down the back of Derek's neck to soothe him, spreading it wide between his shoulder blades, right where the Triskele inked his skin.
"Shit." Derek growled again, though this time it was annoyed instead of the reprimand of a moment before. "Your dad is coming." he sighed, letting his forehead thunk down on Stiles' collarbone, not bothering to disentangle their limbs.
Stiles listened but didn't hear the familiar rumble of his dad's engine. "Where?" he asked, curious how far Derek's senses extended beyond what his own were capable of.
"Not nearly far enough out for us to finish this." Derek gruffed, planting one last kiss to Stiles' clavicle before leaning away to meet this gaze. "A dozen blocks or so, maybe."
Stiles was impressed but couldn't resist quirking an amused brow. "Were you listening for him the whole time?" he asked, chuckling at the way Derek shifted uncomfortably.
"I'd really rather not get caught fucking the Sheriff's still technically underage son, in the Sheriff's house, by the Sheriff." Derek rolled his eyes but his smile was still fond.
"Who said anything about fucking his son?" Stiles grinned, purposefully shifting his hips where their bodies were still intimately entwined. They were both hard, both worked up and flushed with desire, and Stiles had to fight back a groan at the tiny bit of friction his wriggling caused.
Derek huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he leaned in to brush a chaste but lingering kiss to Stiles' lips. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to get me shot." he mumbled into Stiles' mouth when he refused to let Derek pull away.
Stiles' eyes flashed Gold and he had to blink a few times to right them. "He wouldn't shoot you, Derek. My dad actually likes you, oddly enough. And I'll be eighteen soon, so it's not like it's really that bad. Besides, he already knows how I feel about you-" he cut himself off, cringing internally.
"Funny." Derek hefted one heavy brow. "I don't even know how you feel about me."
"Do we have to have this particular conversation right now?" Stiles asked, pulling away from Derek's embrace to climb off the bed, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he went.
Derek watched him, laid out on his back on the bed. "No." he allowed as Stiles dug through his dresser drawers, tossing a few articles of clothing onto the floor by his feet. "But we're going to have it eventually."
"Absolutely." Stiles nodded as he scooped up the clothes from the floor an tossed half of them onto Derek's stomach. "Just not right now." he repeated. "I'm gonna go take a quick shower before dad gets home." he tossed over his shoulder on his way into the hall.
Derek stared after him and tried not to listen to Stiles muttering under his breath in the bathroom as John's cruiser pulled into the drive. Pushing himself up from the bed, Derek went downstairs to greet him, figuring it was a better plan than waiting for the Sheriff to come upstairs.