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1lostoneTitle: Hey There Little Red...
Fandom: Teenwolf (shame. I have none.)
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 3450, this chapter.
Warnings: *highlight for spoilers: H/C, Angst, POSSIBLE spoilers for upcoming episodes, rimming, first-time, knotting, possessive behavior... and uh, yeah. Underage. I don't know how old Stiles is in the show, but for my peace of mind he's going to be seventeen.
Summary: (Post ep for S2e04) Stiles knew that agreeing to meet Lydia in the middle of the damn woods, in the middle of the damn night wasn't one of his best ideas. Really. He did.
A/N: This is my first fic in this fandom. I blame Tyler Hoechlin. Oh, and Dylan O'Brien. And whoever the fucking genius was that decided that they should both be soaking wet in a pool together. *blink* *dopey grin* Wait. What was I saying? Oh yeah. My first fic. So...here you go! Thanks to Jen and
jihime47 for taking a look at this for me, but all mistakes are mine.
Chapter Notes: I just want to point out that this story involves werewolves fucking humans. Eventually. Please go ahead and add to your suspense of disbelief on the fact that I'm making it the end of the school year, because I wasn't sure where it was on the show. :)
Chapter 2
When Stiles woke up, it was with a bladder that was way too full, and with a mouth that was way too dry. He started to yawn, bringing up a fist to knuckle at his eyes. He blinked bleary-eyed at the wall, too sleep-stupid to realize that he wasn’t at home. Stiles felt something move and he had to tug his hand out from under a body. He felt the brush of naked skin and muscles and made a face. Stiles became aware that his legs were tangled up with someone else’s, and they were laying half on his body, pressed close.
“--Scott? Whafuck.” He mumbled. He knew that weres liked to cuddle. Something about pack building. It wasn’t the first time that they had passed out on the same bed and woken up tangled together, but it was the first time Scott had decided to snuggle without a shirt. Gross. That meant that he and Allison had touched the same... Stiles made a horrified face.“Dude.”
The body froze and Stiles was sure that he heard what sounded like a low growl. Weird. Scott wasn’t very good at growling yet. He sounded more like a really pissed-off puppy. This sounded more like---
Stiles whipped his head around, coming face-to-face with Derek Hale. It was Stiles’ turn to freeze, trying to calm the sudden pounding of his heart. He felt a lot like all the other times he’d been cornered by Derek; only he was close enough that he could count individual eyelashes. Stiles couldn’t help the maidenly squeak nor the tug of the sheets to his chest as he turned on his side. The bed was a queen-sized, but it felt very small when sharing it with a grouchy, growly werewolf.
Stiles was too shocked to dive off of the bed, but he wasn’t about to abandon that as plan B should he need it later.
“Um. Good. Ah,morning?”
Derek’s lip twitched. Stiles had seen that before; it was the prelude-to-snarl-twitch. and he was still growling, low in chest. Stiles could feel the tiny vibrations in the miniscule space between their bodies.
Stiles was also mortified to realize in that weird way his mind was cataloging everything that was happening to him that he was also as hard as a rock.
Plan B it was then. He landed with a flaily squawk, the sheet, and a face full of dust-bunnies.
Stiles jumped up, tripping over the shoes that had been left over the side of the bed and whirled, staring down at Derek feeling horrified. Humiliated. Humilified. ““Ow. Um. I’ll just .. uh. be right back.” Stiles took his shame and confusion and his stupid morning hard-on and speed-walked to the bathroom, hoping that Derek was too sleepy to notice.
Stiles avoided looking himself in the eyes as he passed by the mirror, unzipping his jeans as he went. Peeing with a hard dick wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to jack off with Derek freaking Hale twenty feet away. He glared down at himself, realized he was tapping his foot, and made himself stop.
Stiles hung his head, then waited for what seemed like forever until his body quit being completely stupid.
He flushed the toilet, then turned to wash his hands. He looked like shit. Giant circles were under his eyes, his skin pale and a little sweaty. He still had eye-crusties in his left eye. Nice. He really wasn’t showing off the full Stiles experience today. Derek probably thought---
Stiles made himself stop thinking that particular train of thought immediately. That way lies madness. He couldn't quite meet his own gaze in the mirror, but when he looked, he could see little red marks from where the sheet had bunched up under his cheek while he had been sleeping. Derek must have taken his tshirt and hoodie off, because he was naked except for the jeans. He yawned again, wincing a little when his jaw popped. Stiles turned his head and saw the white bandage on the back of his neck. It looked like some blood had seeped through it and Stiles felt vaguely nauseous as he pulled up the tape and stared at the small, thin cut across the back of his neck.
His vague hope that this was a weird sort of dream vanished. Stiles couldn’t help touching it, frowning a little bit at the sting. The skin around it looked puffy- like it was infected.
Shit. Why did things like this always happen to him? Stiles glared at the closed door, then figured he could use the excuse of brushing his teeth so that he didn’t have to go back out there to face Derek.
Stiles struggled with about .002 seconds of guilt before he began snooping around, peeking in Derek’s cabinets. You could learn a lot about a person from their cabinets. Stiles learned that Derek preferred Colgate over Crest, that he apparently stockpiled extra toothbrushes and boy butter.
Stiles was surprised that he didn’t stroke out when he saw the large container. He’d gotten as far as why the hell does Derek keep butter in the bathro-- before he’d flushed so hard that he saw spots for a second, the words ‘personal lubricant’ practically burning into his brain.
Stiles brushed his teeth in record time, using one of the extra toothbrushes. He was in the middle of bending over to spit when Derek pounded on the door, causing him to jump almost out of his skin.
“--ust aah inute!” Stiles spit and washed out his mouth then put the brush precisely on the counter. He turned and straightened the towel on the shower rod, then didn’t think that he could stall any more.
Okay. Be cool. This is only a big deal to you. Relax Stiles took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, opened the door and stepped out into Derek’s bedroom. It was empty. Derek had made the bed and left a shirt folded neatly near the pillow.
Stiles wiggled his toes against the hardwood floor then went to go put on the shirt Derek had left for him. It was just a t-shirt, but Stiles couldn’t help the feeling of--something-- that hit him when he slipped it over his head and shoulders. The material was old and had obviously been washed until it was almost threadbare in spots. It was a little too big for him and it made him blush a little when he put it on. He felt like a kid playing dress-up. He couldn’t find his socks, so he shoved his bare feet into his sneakers, shivering a little. He knew in theory that Derek was renovating the house. There must be window open, or a draft somewhere.
Stiles made a face and turned to go down the stairs. He wasn’t sure why he felt so weird. But between last night and waking up with Derek curled around him, he just felt... off. Jittery. Like his skin was a size too small. Like he’d skipped his Adderall, then compensated with a Red Bull.
When he clattered down the stairs, he was kind of surprised not to see the rest of Derek’s pack downstairs. He thought for sure Scott would be there at least. Stiles tried not to feel hurt. He should be used to that by now. He understood that Scott had a lot going on in his life right now. He just wished that one of those things was Stiles- and not just when he needed something from Stiles.
He followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. There were signs that Derek had been rebuilding. The smell of sawdust was strong in the air, and Stiles could see plastic sheeting still stapled to the wall. He shivered a little. Even though it was almost summer, it was still pretty cool in the mornings.
“Sit down.”
Stiles jumped and jerked his gaze to Derek, who was futzing around at the sink, washing dishes.
And almost swallowed his tongue.
It wasn’t like Stiles had never realized that Derek was kind of stupidly attractive. He’d tried not to... and okay yeah that wasn’t always very successful. But this was ridiculous. Stiles had watched porn that wasn’t this hot. Derek was wearing just a pair of jeans that had dipped low on his hips. The tattoo was as eye-catching as usual, but it paled in comparison to the rest of his back. The muscles on the long expanse of Derek's back bunched as he washed the dishes. Stiles hadn’t known that Derek had two tiny dimples at the base of his spine, but the knowledge was now firmly burned into his retinas. Derek turned with an inquiring eyebrow, and Stiles scuttled to the table.
Stiles had his hands around the mug and was bringing it gratefully to his lips before Stiles quite knew what was happening.
“So, thank you? I mean, for last night. For uh. You know. Not leaving me to become Stiles jerky for Godzilla.”
Derek shrugged and walked over to the table, bringing a small plate. “Thank you for not letting me drown.” He set the plate onto the table. “Sorry- I usually don’t eat breakfast.”
The toast was only a little charcoaled, the butter melted enough that it had soaked into the bread. The word butter caused Stiles to flush, remembering the tub-o-lube up in Derek’s bathroom. Stiles snatched a piece of toast and shoved it in his mouth, chewing so that he wouldn’t talk. It was a diversion tactic that served him well. The toast tasted like sandpaper in his mouth. It must have been a little stale because it caused his stomach to turn a little. He set down the other half and took a sip of coffee.
“This your first morning after?”
Stiles made a sound that he would most emphatically deny was an ‘eep!’ of pure terror and jerked his gaze up to meet Derek’s.
“What?! No! I mean...yes! I mean... oh my god what?”
Derek’s lips twitched again.
“Is this humor? It must be. Oh my god.” Stiles took a giant gulp of his coffee. It was the perfect temperature, hot enough to make his mouth tingle, but cool enough that he didn’t scorch himself. Derek had even known how he drank it. He tried the toast again, but it still made his stomach jump around unpleasantly.
Derek opened his mouth to respond, but tilted his head instead as though he was listening. “Scott. He just turned down the drive.” Stiles gulped his coffee, flooded with relief that he wouldn’t have to sit here and make awkward small talk with Derek. He forced a smile that faded away quickly when he saw the carefully blank look on Derek’s face.
Sure enough, a few minutes later Stiles heard the squeal of brakes and the slam of a car door.
“Derek! Stiles!” There was the slam of a door and Scott ran inside, coming right to the kitchen. He gave them a weird look and Stiles lifted his chin, defiantly taking another drink of his coffee.
“Holy crap, man. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” For once, Stiles had no interest in filling up the silence. Like, what would he even say?
“You won’t even believe what happened to me. Derek! I kept trying to tell you, but you wouldn’t let me. Principal Argent! He knows what I am!”
Stiles winced. It was way too damn early in the morning for that many exclamation points. Either the toast or the coffee had caused his head to begin to throb with a dull ache. He pinched the top of his nose and took a deep breath, finishing the coffee in a few more gulps.
“Scott. We will discuss this later. I want you to take him home.” Derek jerked his head towards Stiles.
“But Derek! If he knows what I am, then he’s going to start thinking--”
The low snarl caused Scott to stop mid-sentence.
Stiles had the weird urge to laugh. It was so weird to see Derek pissed at anyone else. Derek went to a room at the back of the kitchen. There was the sound of a dryer opening and closing.
Scott looked at Stiles, his nose flaring slightly. Stiles just shook his head, and Scott nodded, understanding that he didn’t want to talk right now.
Derek came back with Stiles’ t shirt, hoodie and socks. He put it on gratefully. He was so freaking cold! He put his mug into the soapy water Derek had left and shifted uncomfortably, shoving the socks into the pockets of his hoodie.
“Uh so. Thanks. Again, I mean.”
Derek just shrugged, a muscle working in his jaw. Just like that he was back to being broody the sourwolf Stiles knew and lo--...
Yeah. Definitely time to go.
Scott just turned without a word, glaring a little mulishly but managing to keep his mouth shut. Stiles turned and left with him. They walked down the steps and to Ms. McCall’s car, Stiles sliding into the passenger seat with a small sigh.
Scott gunned the engine and they were off. By unspoken agreement, neither spoke until they were well out of wolf-earshot.
“Dude so are you going to tell me why you freaking reek of Derek? Did you guys.. uh.. wait. Nevermind. I don’t think that I really want to know. Not that I mind! Ha! Haha!"
“Scott. No, I just slept. The lizard thing... it got me. I was knocked out for awhile and Derek took care of me.”
“Derek. Derek Hale took care of you? Why would he do that? I mean, you’re not pack.”
Stiles couldn’t hide the burst of pain he felt at Scott’s words. He sucked in a breath and pressed his aching head back against the car-rest, trying to ignore it. Why did everything always seem to come back to this?
“Stiles?”
“I guess because he felt he had to. Not trying to be a dick here, but it’s been a really fucked up few days. I want to sleep for a week. What did you tell my dad?”
“Oh, just that you’d lost your phone and that we were going to be at my place playing Mass Effect.”
Stiles snorted. He didn’t really like lying to his dad, but had been doing it for so long to keep everyone safe that it was almost second nature now. Still, he felt like a dick for doing it. One day Karma was going to settle up, and it was going to be painful. “Thanks, man.”
“Seriously, are you okay? I mean.. you seem kind of.. quiet.”
“Yeah. Just tired. Lydia emailed me. She wanted me to meet her to talk about something. But I got lost, and Derek found me. Then that thing from last night attacked and I wasn’t able to move for like, a billion hours.” Stiles tried to sniff himself unobtrusively. He couldn’t smell anything. Just the fabric softener from his freshly laundered hoodie. Scott was acting like Derek had pissed on him or something.
“Jeez.” Scott was silent for another minute. “But you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” Stiles closed his eyes and Scott seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as he drove.
'Not Pack'. That was the problem. The thing that Stiles struggled with. He could have been. Peter Hale had been willing, almost eager enough to bite him. He just didn’t understand how he could spend so much time running around from crisis to crisis, lying to his dad, getting Scott and Derek out of trouble over and over again... but he still wasn’t quite good enough to be considered as part of the pack. It was like high school all over again. Second string on Lacrosse. Had a lot of friends, but to people like Lydia and Jackson he was just someone who was in class with them, the guy who sometimes said something funny. Awesome, but not quite awesome enough.
Scott pulled into his driveway and put the car in park. “You good?”
“Yeah. You don’t have to go in. Derek probably wants to talk to you about Principal Argent. Better to get back.”
Scott hunched in on himself, giving off the image of a puppy with its tail between its legs. “Yeah, probably. Look, I’ll call you later, okay?”
“My phone’s toast, remember? You’ll have to email me.” Stiles raised his eyebrows and forced a grin. “Thanks for the ride. Sorry to stink up your car. I’ll go take a shower.”
“Yeah. See you.” Scott pulled out of the driveway with a little wave. Stiles sighed and stooped to get the key from the hollow rock. He always told his dad that it was pretty stupid to leave the key to their house in such an obvious place, but his dad had just raised his eyebrows and said that if some stupid kid was dumb enough to break into the Sherrif’s house, he had worse problems to deal with.
Stiles shivered again and pulled his hoodie around him, rubbing his cheek into the comforting fleece warmth. Shit. Stiles didn't know why he was so down on himself. He hadn't been this whiny since freshman year and the whole Curly Hair Incident. The thought of food still turned his stomach, so he avoided the kitchen, moving to run up the stairs to his room. There was a small scrape of sound to his left and Stiles froze, unsure. Stiles whirled and saw his dad standing at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed across his chest. “Oh...” Fuck. “Hi, Dad.”
“Stiles.” His dad turned on his foot and disappeared into the kitchen. Stiles winced. The last time he’d done that Stiles had been grounded for about forever and three months. Shit.
His dad was sitting in the kitchen with his fingers pointed under his head, staring at a half-full tumbler of whiskey. Stiles froze in mid-step. It couldn’t be more than eleven in the morning. Maybe he’d fucked up and his dad was off unexpectedly, but for him to be drinking in the middle of the day? No. Not even close to normal.
Not since Mom.
And that freaked Stiles the fuck out.
“Do you want to tell me why you spent the night at Derek Hale’s house?”
Stiles felt his knees go weak.
“Uh. No? No I do not.”
“Hmm. We won’t even get to or the fact that you had Scott lie for you while you. .. spent the night.” His dad took a sip of the whiskey, rolling it from hand to hand. “I’d really like to focus on the fact that you’re seventeen. A teenager. You're not even out of high school yet. Stiles. What the hell?”
Stiles sank down in his chair opposite his dad. He was too tired to process this. Derek must have given him the decaf or something, because his mind was moving as though through mush.
“Uh.”
His dad took another drink. “Do you have anything else to say?”
That brain-to-filter thing just completely died on him. He was too tired, and too worried about his dad's worry to lie. “Last night ... I was attacked. Twice, actually.”
His dad jolted up like he’d been electrocuted. The bottle of alcohol juttered when his dad's knee hit the table. “What!” He was in front of Stiles before he could blink, putting the back of his hand to Stiles’ forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up! What happened? What did that fucking son of a bitch--”
“No! Dad! I’m fine. Derek... “ Stiles made a disgruntled face. “He saved me actually. I know, that totally makes me the princess. I had Scott lie for me because... well.” He waved his hand around. His dad seemed to get it. “Yeah. I’m really not feeling well though. Do you mind if I go crash?”
His dad gave him a long, searching look. “That’s not all, is it?”
Stiles breathed out, then shook his head. “No.”
“Go and crash. We’ll talk when you’re done. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, dad. Just really tired.” His dad's frown made him a little nervous. One thing about Sherrif Micheal Stillinski, he was really, really good at biding his time. Stiles knew that he wasn't getting a reprieve as much as his dad was taking time to gather his evidence. But, when his dad gave him a kind of awkward hug, Stiles couldn't help the way his throat tightened. He didn't say anything as he walked upstairs to his room.
Stiles stripped down to his boxers and climbed into his bed with a groan. He was cold, shivering enough that he almost went to get another blanket, but was too tired to fuck with it. He stared up the the ceiling, blinking, too tired to sleep. Fuck. Fuck, this was ridiculous. It took him two tries to get out of bed, but he made it to his computer, opening the lid and glaring off into space.
Derek had called it a Kanima. Stiles rolled his eyes. That was one place to start. He might not be pack, but he had a job to do, regardless. Somebody had to find out what the fuck that thing was.
Before it killed someone else.
(Whoo!)
Previous || Next
Fandom: Teenwolf (shame. I have none.)
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 3450, this chapter.
Warnings: *highlight for spoilers: H/C, Angst, POSSIBLE spoilers for upcoming episodes, rimming, first-time, knotting, possessive behavior... and uh, yeah. Underage. I don't know how old Stiles is in the show, but for my peace of mind he's going to be seventeen.
Summary: (Post ep for S2e04) Stiles knew that agreeing to meet Lydia in the middle of the damn woods, in the middle of the damn night wasn't one of his best ideas. Really. He did.
A/N: This is my first fic in this fandom. I blame Tyler Hoechlin. Oh, and Dylan O'Brien. And whoever the fucking genius was that decided that they should both be soaking wet in a pool together. *blink* *dopey grin* Wait. What was I saying? Oh yeah. My first fic. So...here you go! Thanks to Jen and
jihime47 for taking a look at this for me, but all mistakes are mine.Chapter Notes: I just want to point out that this story involves werewolves fucking humans. Eventually. Please go ahead and add to your suspense of disbelief on the fact that I'm making it the end of the school year, because I wasn't sure where it was on the show. :)
Chapter 2
When Stiles woke up, it was with a bladder that was way too full, and with a mouth that was way too dry. He started to yawn, bringing up a fist to knuckle at his eyes. He blinked bleary-eyed at the wall, too sleep-stupid to realize that he wasn’t at home. Stiles felt something move and he had to tug his hand out from under a body. He felt the brush of naked skin and muscles and made a face. Stiles became aware that his legs were tangled up with someone else’s, and they were laying half on his body, pressed close.
“--Scott? Whafuck.” He mumbled. He knew that weres liked to cuddle. Something about pack building. It wasn’t the first time that they had passed out on the same bed and woken up tangled together, but it was the first time Scott had decided to snuggle without a shirt. Gross. That meant that he and Allison had touched the same... Stiles made a horrified face.“Dude.”
The body froze and Stiles was sure that he heard what sounded like a low growl. Weird. Scott wasn’t very good at growling yet. He sounded more like a really pissed-off puppy. This sounded more like---
Stiles whipped his head around, coming face-to-face with Derek Hale. It was Stiles’ turn to freeze, trying to calm the sudden pounding of his heart. He felt a lot like all the other times he’d been cornered by Derek; only he was close enough that he could count individual eyelashes. Stiles couldn’t help the maidenly squeak nor the tug of the sheets to his chest as he turned on his side. The bed was a queen-sized, but it felt very small when sharing it with a grouchy, growly werewolf.
Stiles was too shocked to dive off of the bed, but he wasn’t about to abandon that as plan B should he need it later.
“Um. Good. Ah,morning?”
Derek’s lip twitched. Stiles had seen that before; it was the prelude-to-snarl-twitch. and he was still growling, low in chest. Stiles could feel the tiny vibrations in the miniscule space between their bodies.
Stiles was also mortified to realize in that weird way his mind was cataloging everything that was happening to him that he was also as hard as a rock.
Plan B it was then. He landed with a flaily squawk, the sheet, and a face full of dust-bunnies.
Stiles jumped up, tripping over the shoes that had been left over the side of the bed and whirled, staring down at Derek feeling horrified. Humiliated. Humilified. ““Ow. Um. I’ll just .. uh. be right back.” Stiles took his shame and confusion and his stupid morning hard-on and speed-walked to the bathroom, hoping that Derek was too sleepy to notice.
Stiles avoided looking himself in the eyes as he passed by the mirror, unzipping his jeans as he went. Peeing with a hard dick wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to jack off with Derek freaking Hale twenty feet away. He glared down at himself, realized he was tapping his foot, and made himself stop.
Stiles hung his head, then waited for what seemed like forever until his body quit being completely stupid.
He flushed the toilet, then turned to wash his hands. He looked like shit. Giant circles were under his eyes, his skin pale and a little sweaty. He still had eye-crusties in his left eye. Nice. He really wasn’t showing off the full Stiles experience today. Derek probably thought---
Stiles made himself stop thinking that particular train of thought immediately. That way lies madness. He couldn't quite meet his own gaze in the mirror, but when he looked, he could see little red marks from where the sheet had bunched up under his cheek while he had been sleeping. Derek must have taken his tshirt and hoodie off, because he was naked except for the jeans. He yawned again, wincing a little when his jaw popped. Stiles turned his head and saw the white bandage on the back of his neck. It looked like some blood had seeped through it and Stiles felt vaguely nauseous as he pulled up the tape and stared at the small, thin cut across the back of his neck.
His vague hope that this was a weird sort of dream vanished. Stiles couldn’t help touching it, frowning a little bit at the sting. The skin around it looked puffy- like it was infected.
Shit. Why did things like this always happen to him? Stiles glared at the closed door, then figured he could use the excuse of brushing his teeth so that he didn’t have to go back out there to face Derek.
Stiles struggled with about .002 seconds of guilt before he began snooping around, peeking in Derek’s cabinets. You could learn a lot about a person from their cabinets. Stiles learned that Derek preferred Colgate over Crest, that he apparently stockpiled extra toothbrushes and boy butter.
Stiles was surprised that he didn’t stroke out when he saw the large container. He’d gotten as far as why the hell does Derek keep butter in the bathro-- before he’d flushed so hard that he saw spots for a second, the words ‘personal lubricant’ practically burning into his brain.
Stiles brushed his teeth in record time, using one of the extra toothbrushes. He was in the middle of bending over to spit when Derek pounded on the door, causing him to jump almost out of his skin.
“--ust aah inute!” Stiles spit and washed out his mouth then put the brush precisely on the counter. He turned and straightened the towel on the shower rod, then didn’t think that he could stall any more.
Okay. Be cool. This is only a big deal to you. Relax Stiles took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, opened the door and stepped out into Derek’s bedroom. It was empty. Derek had made the bed and left a shirt folded neatly near the pillow.
Stiles wiggled his toes against the hardwood floor then went to go put on the shirt Derek had left for him. It was just a t-shirt, but Stiles couldn’t help the feeling of--something-- that hit him when he slipped it over his head and shoulders. The material was old and had obviously been washed until it was almost threadbare in spots. It was a little too big for him and it made him blush a little when he put it on. He felt like a kid playing dress-up. He couldn’t find his socks, so he shoved his bare feet into his sneakers, shivering a little. He knew in theory that Derek was renovating the house. There must be window open, or a draft somewhere.
Stiles made a face and turned to go down the stairs. He wasn’t sure why he felt so weird. But between last night and waking up with Derek curled around him, he just felt... off. Jittery. Like his skin was a size too small. Like he’d skipped his Adderall, then compensated with a Red Bull.
When he clattered down the stairs, he was kind of surprised not to see the rest of Derek’s pack downstairs. He thought for sure Scott would be there at least. Stiles tried not to feel hurt. He should be used to that by now. He understood that Scott had a lot going on in his life right now. He just wished that one of those things was Stiles- and not just when he needed something from Stiles.
He followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. There were signs that Derek had been rebuilding. The smell of sawdust was strong in the air, and Stiles could see plastic sheeting still stapled to the wall. He shivered a little. Even though it was almost summer, it was still pretty cool in the mornings.
“Sit down.”
Stiles jumped and jerked his gaze to Derek, who was futzing around at the sink, washing dishes.
And almost swallowed his tongue.
It wasn’t like Stiles had never realized that Derek was kind of stupidly attractive. He’d tried not to... and okay yeah that wasn’t always very successful. But this was ridiculous. Stiles had watched porn that wasn’t this hot. Derek was wearing just a pair of jeans that had dipped low on his hips. The tattoo was as eye-catching as usual, but it paled in comparison to the rest of his back. The muscles on the long expanse of Derek's back bunched as he washed the dishes. Stiles hadn’t known that Derek had two tiny dimples at the base of his spine, but the knowledge was now firmly burned into his retinas. Derek turned with an inquiring eyebrow, and Stiles scuttled to the table.
Stiles had his hands around the mug and was bringing it gratefully to his lips before Stiles quite knew what was happening.
“So, thank you? I mean, for last night. For uh. You know. Not leaving me to become Stiles jerky for Godzilla.”
Derek shrugged and walked over to the table, bringing a small plate. “Thank you for not letting me drown.” He set the plate onto the table. “Sorry- I usually don’t eat breakfast.”
The toast was only a little charcoaled, the butter melted enough that it had soaked into the bread. The word butter caused Stiles to flush, remembering the tub-o-lube up in Derek’s bathroom. Stiles snatched a piece of toast and shoved it in his mouth, chewing so that he wouldn’t talk. It was a diversion tactic that served him well. The toast tasted like sandpaper in his mouth. It must have been a little stale because it caused his stomach to turn a little. He set down the other half and took a sip of coffee.
“This your first morning after?”
Stiles made a sound that he would most emphatically deny was an ‘eep!’ of pure terror and jerked his gaze up to meet Derek’s.
“What?! No! I mean...yes! I mean... oh my god what?”
Derek’s lips twitched again.
“Is this humor? It must be. Oh my god.” Stiles took a giant gulp of his coffee. It was the perfect temperature, hot enough to make his mouth tingle, but cool enough that he didn’t scorch himself. Derek had even known how he drank it. He tried the toast again, but it still made his stomach jump around unpleasantly.
Derek opened his mouth to respond, but tilted his head instead as though he was listening. “Scott. He just turned down the drive.” Stiles gulped his coffee, flooded with relief that he wouldn’t have to sit here and make awkward small talk with Derek. He forced a smile that faded away quickly when he saw the carefully blank look on Derek’s face.
Sure enough, a few minutes later Stiles heard the squeal of brakes and the slam of a car door.
“Derek! Stiles!” There was the slam of a door and Scott ran inside, coming right to the kitchen. He gave them a weird look and Stiles lifted his chin, defiantly taking another drink of his coffee.
“Holy crap, man. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” For once, Stiles had no interest in filling up the silence. Like, what would he even say?
“You won’t even believe what happened to me. Derek! I kept trying to tell you, but you wouldn’t let me. Principal Argent! He knows what I am!”
Stiles winced. It was way too damn early in the morning for that many exclamation points. Either the toast or the coffee had caused his head to begin to throb with a dull ache. He pinched the top of his nose and took a deep breath, finishing the coffee in a few more gulps.
“Scott. We will discuss this later. I want you to take him home.” Derek jerked his head towards Stiles.
“But Derek! If he knows what I am, then he’s going to start thinking--”
The low snarl caused Scott to stop mid-sentence.
Stiles had the weird urge to laugh. It was so weird to see Derek pissed at anyone else. Derek went to a room at the back of the kitchen. There was the sound of a dryer opening and closing.
Scott looked at Stiles, his nose flaring slightly. Stiles just shook his head, and Scott nodded, understanding that he didn’t want to talk right now.
Derek came back with Stiles’ t shirt, hoodie and socks. He put it on gratefully. He was so freaking cold! He put his mug into the soapy water Derek had left and shifted uncomfortably, shoving the socks into the pockets of his hoodie.
“Uh so. Thanks. Again, I mean.”
Derek just shrugged, a muscle working in his jaw. Just like that he was back to being broody the sourwolf Stiles knew and lo--...
Yeah. Definitely time to go.
Scott just turned without a word, glaring a little mulishly but managing to keep his mouth shut. Stiles turned and left with him. They walked down the steps and to Ms. McCall’s car, Stiles sliding into the passenger seat with a small sigh.
Scott gunned the engine and they were off. By unspoken agreement, neither spoke until they were well out of wolf-earshot.
“Dude so are you going to tell me why you freaking reek of Derek? Did you guys.. uh.. wait. Nevermind. I don’t think that I really want to know. Not that I mind! Ha! Haha!"
“Scott. No, I just slept. The lizard thing... it got me. I was knocked out for awhile and Derek took care of me.”
“Derek. Derek Hale took care of you? Why would he do that? I mean, you’re not pack.”
Stiles couldn’t hide the burst of pain he felt at Scott’s words. He sucked in a breath and pressed his aching head back against the car-rest, trying to ignore it. Why did everything always seem to come back to this?
“Stiles?”
“I guess because he felt he had to. Not trying to be a dick here, but it’s been a really fucked up few days. I want to sleep for a week. What did you tell my dad?”
“Oh, just that you’d lost your phone and that we were going to be at my place playing Mass Effect.”
Stiles snorted. He didn’t really like lying to his dad, but had been doing it for so long to keep everyone safe that it was almost second nature now. Still, he felt like a dick for doing it. One day Karma was going to settle up, and it was going to be painful. “Thanks, man.”
“Seriously, are you okay? I mean.. you seem kind of.. quiet.”
“Yeah. Just tired. Lydia emailed me. She wanted me to meet her to talk about something. But I got lost, and Derek found me. Then that thing from last night attacked and I wasn’t able to move for like, a billion hours.” Stiles tried to sniff himself unobtrusively. He couldn’t smell anything. Just the fabric softener from his freshly laundered hoodie. Scott was acting like Derek had pissed on him or something.
“Jeez.” Scott was silent for another minute. “But you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” Stiles closed his eyes and Scott seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as he drove.
'Not Pack'. That was the problem. The thing that Stiles struggled with. He could have been. Peter Hale had been willing, almost eager enough to bite him. He just didn’t understand how he could spend so much time running around from crisis to crisis, lying to his dad, getting Scott and Derek out of trouble over and over again... but he still wasn’t quite good enough to be considered as part of the pack. It was like high school all over again. Second string on Lacrosse. Had a lot of friends, but to people like Lydia and Jackson he was just someone who was in class with them, the guy who sometimes said something funny. Awesome, but not quite awesome enough.
Scott pulled into his driveway and put the car in park. “You good?”
“Yeah. You don’t have to go in. Derek probably wants to talk to you about Principal Argent. Better to get back.”
Scott hunched in on himself, giving off the image of a puppy with its tail between its legs. “Yeah, probably. Look, I’ll call you later, okay?”
“My phone’s toast, remember? You’ll have to email me.” Stiles raised his eyebrows and forced a grin. “Thanks for the ride. Sorry to stink up your car. I’ll go take a shower.”
“Yeah. See you.” Scott pulled out of the driveway with a little wave. Stiles sighed and stooped to get the key from the hollow rock. He always told his dad that it was pretty stupid to leave the key to their house in such an obvious place, but his dad had just raised his eyebrows and said that if some stupid kid was dumb enough to break into the Sherrif’s house, he had worse problems to deal with.
Stiles shivered again and pulled his hoodie around him, rubbing his cheek into the comforting fleece warmth. Shit. Stiles didn't know why he was so down on himself. He hadn't been this whiny since freshman year and the whole Curly Hair Incident. The thought of food still turned his stomach, so he avoided the kitchen, moving to run up the stairs to his room. There was a small scrape of sound to his left and Stiles froze, unsure. Stiles whirled and saw his dad standing at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed across his chest. “Oh...” Fuck. “Hi, Dad.”
“Stiles.” His dad turned on his foot and disappeared into the kitchen. Stiles winced. The last time he’d done that Stiles had been grounded for about forever and three months. Shit.
His dad was sitting in the kitchen with his fingers pointed under his head, staring at a half-full tumbler of whiskey. Stiles froze in mid-step. It couldn’t be more than eleven in the morning. Maybe he’d fucked up and his dad was off unexpectedly, but for him to be drinking in the middle of the day? No. Not even close to normal.
Not since Mom.
And that freaked Stiles the fuck out.
“Do you want to tell me why you spent the night at Derek Hale’s house?”
Stiles felt his knees go weak.
“Uh. No? No I do not.”
“Hmm. We won’t even get to or the fact that you had Scott lie for you while you. .. spent the night.” His dad took a sip of the whiskey, rolling it from hand to hand. “I’d really like to focus on the fact that you’re seventeen. A teenager. You're not even out of high school yet. Stiles. What the hell?”
Stiles sank down in his chair opposite his dad. He was too tired to process this. Derek must have given him the decaf or something, because his mind was moving as though through mush.
“Uh.”
His dad took another drink. “Do you have anything else to say?”
That brain-to-filter thing just completely died on him. He was too tired, and too worried about his dad's worry to lie. “Last night ... I was attacked. Twice, actually.”
His dad jolted up like he’d been electrocuted. The bottle of alcohol juttered when his dad's knee hit the table. “What!” He was in front of Stiles before he could blink, putting the back of his hand to Stiles’ forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up! What happened? What did that fucking son of a bitch--”
“No! Dad! I’m fine. Derek... “ Stiles made a disgruntled face. “He saved me actually. I know, that totally makes me the princess. I had Scott lie for me because... well.” He waved his hand around. His dad seemed to get it. “Yeah. I’m really not feeling well though. Do you mind if I go crash?”
His dad gave him a long, searching look. “That’s not all, is it?”
Stiles breathed out, then shook his head. “No.”
“Go and crash. We’ll talk when you’re done. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, dad. Just really tired.” His dad's frown made him a little nervous. One thing about Sherrif Micheal Stillinski, he was really, really good at biding his time. Stiles knew that he wasn't getting a reprieve as much as his dad was taking time to gather his evidence. But, when his dad gave him a kind of awkward hug, Stiles couldn't help the way his throat tightened. He didn't say anything as he walked upstairs to his room.
Stiles stripped down to his boxers and climbed into his bed with a groan. He was cold, shivering enough that he almost went to get another blanket, but was too tired to fuck with it. He stared up the the ceiling, blinking, too tired to sleep. Fuck. Fuck, this was ridiculous. It took him two tries to get out of bed, but he made it to his computer, opening the lid and glaring off into space.
Derek had called it a Kanima. Stiles rolled his eyes. That was one place to start. He might not be pack, but he had a job to do, regardless. Somebody had to find out what the fuck that thing was.
Before it killed someone else.
(Whoo!)
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