Hey There, Little Red... 3/?
Jun. 26th, 2012 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
1lostoneTitle: Hey There Little Red...
Fandom: Teenwolf (shame. I have none.)
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 3600, 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 the first chapter of this for me, but everything else is unbeta'd. Jen has the patience of a saint. That is all.
Chapter Notes: 1) I made it so that it's at the end of school; sorry if that's not canon. 2) Also, this is officially an AU due to the damn writers not doing anything that I expected. 3) I seem to be banging this out more quickly than I had anticipated, but my usual posting schedule is once every 2-3 days. :)
Chapter 3
The last day of school was overcast. They were close enough to the North corner of Oregon that they got a pretty fair amount of rain. People thought all of California was Hollywood and beaches and botox. Stiles winced at a crack of thunder and parked his jeep, sighing. His phone beeped, and he glanced down at it.
The phone had just appeared on his bed one day while he'd been in the shower. Derek had been the first person to text him, but Stiles hadn’t exactly needed a reminder of who would have gone to the trouble to get him a phone. The text had just read ‘Sorry you lost yours. Hope this is a good substitute.’ Of course it was. Derek had gotten him an exact replica of his last phone.
In the past week since everything had happened, Stiles had heard from Jackson, who had been told by Issac that Derek had taken Erica and gone on a hunt for the creature. With the Argents. Talk about a freaking ballsy move.
Whatever was going on with Principal Argent and Allison’s scary-as-fuck mom was another thing that had happened without Stiles being in the loop. All he knew is that Scott had stopped talking, that Derek and his new packmates had taken off for fuck knew where. Stiles had been able to avoid his dad for most of the time, making sure he was gone when his dad was getting home, pretending to be asleep, going into school early. Things like that.
There was a tapping on his jeep window and Stiles jolted. Lydia smiled at him. Stiles knew gaping wasn’t exactly attractive, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
That was another thing.
Lydia had ... started being friendly. Well, it had helped that she acknowledged him when he walked into a room instead of looking through him, but there were definite tones of friendliness when she talked to or texted him.
His life was weird.
“Hi, Lydia.”
“So did you mean it when you said that we could study for our English tests together? I’ve been really distracted lately and could definitely use the help. They’re letting me take them late since I was in the hospital so long.”
“Sure. That’s cool. My last one is today.” Lydia took a step back, and Stiles got of out of the jeep, slamming the door shut with his hip. “I don’t get why it has to be cumulative. That’s just!” He shook his head.
Lydia was nodding, rolling her eyes. “Yeah. Like, what’s the point? To see how much we could cram into our brains to pass a test? It’s not like anyone remembers that crap.”
Stiles kind of remembered that crap, but he wasn’t stupid enough to mention it at this particular juncture. “I know. So yeah. You know where I live?”
“Yeah.” Her phone rang. She gave a little finger wave and Stiles stopped to watch the view as she walked away. He considered giving himself a high-five but thought that would look really stupid so managed to refrain. He turned and walked right into someone a solid mass of muscle. Hands came around to cup his shoulders so he wouldn’t fall, and Stiles gasped a little, shocked.
“Derek!” Jesus Christ, how did he just appear?
Derek raised an eyebrow and took a step away from Stiles. “Your text said you had something important for me.”
Stiles knew he was gaping like an idiot. The first bell rang and he cringed. It was the last day; and his final wasn’t for another fifty minutes. He turned and got back into the jeep, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He had sent the text like, three days ago. He hadn’t gotten a response and hadn’t really thought about it. Okay. Fine. He’d only stared at his phone, willing it to text him back... maybe twice. Or five times. Whatever.
Derek walked around and slid into the passenger side seat.
“Do you want an egg burrito? I want an egg burrito. Donelly’s has the best, and I want one.”
Derek just looked at him. Stiles was flooded with images that he thought he’d done a pretty damn good job of burying deep in his subconscious, but just seeing him again had them all dancing in technicolor in his brain. He hoped that werewolves couldn’t smell the way his dick went half-hard at just the scent of Derek that was suddenly prevalent throughout his jeep.
“That sounds fine.” Derek looked at him again, staring right at him. It was disconcerting as hell. “Your eye is looking much better.”
Stiles sucked in a deep breath. His skin had that too-tight feeling again. Then what he said hit him. “My eye?”
Derek rolled his eyes. “Stiles. That lizard scratched your eyelid, and part of your cheekbone. I thought you were going to lose your eye. I almost said ‘fuck it’ and took you to Dr. Denton.”
Stiles immediately brought his hand up to his eye. It had been a week, but even that morning he'd woken up, in the bathroom there hadn’t been so much as a scratch. “Wh--what?”
Derek looked away, the faintest of pink tinges on his cheeks.
Stiles was fascinated.
Derek cleared his throat. “The saliva of a werewolf has healing properties. There--”
“YOU LICKED ME?!!” The jeep screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. Stiles couldn’t help it; he could only gape at Derek like a complete idiot.
“Drive, Stiles.” The growl was back in his voice. Derek stared out the windshield, muscle in his jaw twitching.
“But! You! Tongue!” Stiles wheezed, still gaping.
Derek just turned and stared at him. There was a honk, and Stiles jolted, letting his foot off the break just in time to catch a red light.
Stiles mentally flailed a bit, looking for something to say. Usually this was not an issue with him. “You said you don’t really eat breakfast, but you know that breakfast really is the most important meal of the day but if you don’t want something greasy Donelly’s makes--”
“Stiles.” Derek’s hand shot out to clamp over his wrist. “Calm down.”His nostrils flared slightly, and Stiles winced again.
“Please don’t tell me I smell bad. Scott said that I reeked.” Stiles laughed a terribly fake laugh, nodded and pulled on his wrist.
Derek let him go immediately, still watching him. “Did he?”
“Yeah. Like ‘Eau de Derek’. I don’t know what it is with you guys and smell. Do we like... smell bad all the time?”
“Not bad exactly. Just different.”
Huhnnh. Different bad or different good? Stiles took a left, then a right and pulled up into the drive-thru. There was the usual morning rush, and Stiles blurted out his question before he could make himself stop. “What do I smell like?”
Derek went very still, leaning forward slightly and inhaling. He looked at Stiles. Stiles had frozen as well, his brain going from a panicked what the fuh-- to a blessedly quiet white noise. Derek tilted his head down even further, and for one crazy second Stiles thought that Derek was going to kiss him. Derek lightly moved his lips closer to Stiles’ cheekbone, so that they were centimeters from his skin. Derek moved down, burying his nose in the spot under Stiles’ ear and Stiles bit his lip hard to keep the needy little sound that he desperately needed to make behind his teeth. Derek breathed deeply. Stiles dick went from half-hard to uncomfortable as it pressed against the inside zipper of his jeans.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
Stiles opened his mouth to answer when a blare of a horn behind him caused him to jump. Derek was back in his seat before he could blink, leaving Stiles to meet the gaze of the disgruntled driver behind him. His eyes widened. “Ohhh, shiiiiiiit,” he breathed. In the rear-view mirror, his father’s very, very unhappy face stared back at him from the police cruiser.
Stiles inched the jeep up to the drive-thru window on autopilot.
“Stiles?” Derek gave him a very weird look.
“Yeah just a second. “Hello? Hello! Ha! Ha ha! Isn’t a beautiful morning! No I would not like to dry a Donnely’s Delight. I would however be happy to have two egg and sausage burritos and one very large coffee. Make that two coffees.” He turned. “Do you want anything else?” Derek shook his head. “And I would like to buy the breakfast of the hard-working police chief back behind us. Because I am an excellent citizen.” Derek stiffened besides him, looking behind the jeep’s seat with a muttered curse.
There was a pause. “Um. Do y’all want cream and sugar with that?”
“Yes, indeed. Thank you very much.” He inched up a little further. “So, okay. That definitely didn’t look good. And my dad? Yeah, my dad’s behind us in case you didn’t put that together. Or! Or perhaps you did given that you’re a super freaked out. I don’t know why you would be freaked out. You’re not the one that had to explain the bruises from several rather pants-shittingly terrifying nights to an extremely overprotective dad. Because! You heal. Ah-haha. I hope that this is a really good burrito because my dad is going to fucking kill me.” Stiles huffed out a breath, gripping the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles went white, locking his teeth together so that he would shut. up.
“Hi! That will be fourteen-fifty!”
“Here’s thirty. Do me a favor? Can you tell the Sheriff that his son loves him and any death he is perhaps plotting can wait until after my English final?”
“Uh.... sure....”
“Great.” Stiles frowned, handing Derek his coffee. His dick gave a pathetic jump when their fingers brushed together. Stupid dick. He handed the lady the contents of his wallet and took the grease-spotted bag in exchange. He dug into the bag and shoved a burrito in his mouth, munching decisively. He put the rest back into the bag, knowing that if his dad saw him eating behind the wheel of a car his life and chances of driving ever again would be over.
Stiles didn’t bother trying to evade what he knew was going to happen next. He drove back to the school, obeying every single rule of the road, completely and utterly unsurprised when his dad followed him. Derek was strangely quiet. beside him, sipping his coffee without even an amused snort.
“Well. This has been... interesting. Good luck on your final. Thank you for the coffee.”
“Yeah.”
It wasn’t until after Derek had walked back to his Camaro and Stiles had slunk into the school that Stiles realized that he had never told Derek what he’d found out about the Kamina.
“Fuuuuuuck!”
At least his burritos were good.
***
Stiles’ phone was ominously quiet on the texting front. His dad hadn’t had one thing to say. They must teach that level of abject fear in parent school: worrying about what was going to happen was just as terrifying as knowing what was going to happen. He’d finished his finals, said goodbye to the three or four people he knew that were graduating, then had driven home. He’d even whistled as he ran up the steps, unlocked his door, and walked into his house. His dad was here.
Obviously he’d be completely thrown off the scent of groundation by Stiles’ freakishly cheerful whistling. He tossed his backpack near the couch and ran upstairs, aiming for his room.
It was kind of a shock to find Lydia Martin curled up on his bed, reading a book. Stiles actually blinked twice before he figured out that no, his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.
“H-hello?”
She looked up at him, and Stiles flinched. He could see that she had been crying. In the low light of the room, she looked utterly exhausted.
“Your mom used to be my favorite teacher.”
Stiles actually staggered for a minute. Lydia wasn’t looking at the English book he thought she’d be looking at, but instead looking through the photo album he and his dad had made, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Oh? Uh. Yeah. I’ve heard that a few times. Thank you.” Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it. Awkward wasn’t even in the same word bank as what he
was feeling at the moment.
“Your dad let me in.”
“My--.” Oh dear Jesus jumping Christ on a polka-dotted mule. There was no way to explain this. Stiles didn’t even try to leave the door closed. His dad was going to have quite a lot to say, between catching him at Derek’s, catching him with Derek and not in school, and meeting the drop-dead gorgeous girl that was currently making herself at home on his bed.
What the fuck was his life, seriously!
“Is that a problem? It’s Hemingway, not Hentai.”
Stiles kind of loved her a little bit for knowing what Hentai was. “Right! He’s pretty cool. Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but are you.. uh.. sure that you’re okay?”
She glared at him. “What do you mean?”
Stiles held up his hands and cautiously eased one hip onto the corner of his mattress. “You just...” Lydia turned her head, ready to flounce off the bed. Stiles saw the cut on the back of her neck and whipped out his hand to grab her arm under her shoulder.
“Hey! What the--! Stiles!” Her furious hiss was loud in the quiet room.
But Stiles was too busy pawing at her long, red hair, scooping it off of her neck to see if what he thought he’d seen was real. The elbow way too close to his nuts was expected and easily avoided. Lydia hissed like a cat, pushing with her shoulder so that she rolled off the bed.
“Wait!” Stiles cut his gaze to his open door, then to where Lydia was standing, chest heaving. She had his mom’s photo album in her hand, ready to wing it. Stiles didn’t think- just reacted, faceplanting into his mattress and pointing to the back of his neck. The past week had made the small gash look less angry and infected looking, but it still stung when touched. There was a large lump just under the skin that Stiles was too afraid to prod to hard. He’d seen Aliens too many times: no fucking thanks.
He chanced a glance up and Lydia was crying again, just completely weeping silently, one hand to her mouth. The photo album slid from her grip to the floor with a thump. Stiles was up on his feet in a second, holding her, a little freaked out, but he felt too sorry to leave her just standing there. It was even more surprising that she allowed him to hold her like this.
Lydia was a mess; snot and tears everywhere, her face hot against Stiles’ neck. He saw his dad peek in the door with his eyebrows raised. Stiles gave him a ‘I have no idea’ sort of expression and his dad frowned, then shut the door with a small click. Stiles wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. He rested one on her shoulder and the other he used to awkwardly pat her back. Stiles felt tears in his own eyes. Jesus. Stiles didn’t have anywhere else to steer her but his bed. He tried not to feel skeeved out- like the world’s biggest creeper- as she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck. Stiles reached a little to his left for the kleenex he kept there for... other reasons... and tried to hand her some. Lydia wouldn’t let go but moved with him so that they were both lying on Stiles’ bed, Lydia still sobbing.
Stiles didn’t know how long she cried and he held her, but it was dark when her sobs trailed off to snuffles, the snuffles to these adorable little hiccups, then the hiccups to the occasional huff of breath.
All Stiles could hear was his clock, ticking quietly. “Hey.” He whispered. “I’m going to get you a drink, okay? Do you want the light?” There seemed to be a large blockage in Stiles’ throat. He remembered the last time she’d flopped over on him. He’d thought he was about to come in his pants. This though? This was different. he cleared his throat moved to sit up.
Lydia shook her head, still buried in his collarbone. She hugged him tightly for a minute, then let go, curling up protectively on herself. Stiles sniffed and went into his bathroom for a cool cloth. The house was quiet when he went downstairs to get a bottle of water. Stiles knew his dad was stockpiling things to “discuss” with him. At this rate he’d have to take a sick day just so that they can talk about everything, but for crying females and the taking care of, his dad was willing to keep himself scarce.. something that Stiles really, really appreciated.
Stiles jogged back up the stairs to find that Lydia hadn’t moved. Stiles didn’t quite know what to do. “Lydia?” Her wet eyes glinted in the dark room. He held out the water, and went to get her washcloth that he’d left in the sink. It felt good to take care of someone. Stiles bit his lip, then told himself not to be such a dumbass and stretched out on the bed.
“I can’t remember what happened to me. I’m having these... dreams. When I’m awake.” Her voice was wrecked, a tiny whisper in his room. She shifted, pushing Stiles back onto his back and lying down on his arm. “I... can’t remember what I’m doing. Since that... that man attacked me. I woke up, and it’s like I’m still dreaming half the time.” Stiles froze, his heart giving a funny sort of wiggle, then relaxed, feeling extremely awkward as he patted her back. She gave a really disgustingly wet sniff, and leaned up to get at his kleenex. Stiles shifted with her, moving so that he didn’t get a boob in his face.
“It’s just... everything is... Allison said that you’re a really sweet person and ... I wasn’t going to dump all this on you but I couldn’t. And then you had it too, and I just...”
“Lost your shit. Yeah. It’s okay. I’ve always wanted to make a beautiful woman burst into hysterical tears. In my bed.” Stiles gave her a truly ridiculous eyebrow wiggle and she obliged him with a weak, watery-sounding chuckle.
“So, how did it get you?”
“I was stupid. Waiting for Jackson outside of the locker room. It was late... and sometimes we. Uh.”
“Bone like monkeys?” Stiles’ grin was a bright flash in the darkness. He deserved the sharp elbow to the ribs, and only wheezed a little.
“You?”
“In the woods. About a week ago.”
Lydia sucked in a deep breath, realizing exactly why he’d been in the woods in the first place. Stiles found himself squeezing her, like she needed the comfort more than he did.
They were quiet. Stiles listened to her breathing slow down, become deeper, even as she fell asleep. He was at once both completely freaked and totally proud of himself that of all the people she knew, somehow she had trusted him with this. She smelled girly; like some kind of flower. Stiles breathed deeply and raised an eyebrow at the ceiling, waiting for his body to react. Derek had just sat in his car and he’d practically busted a nut. Lydia Martin. Lydia. freaking. Martin. was asleep in his bed, curled up into him completely trustingly, her hand clenched on his t shirt like she was afraid he’d push her away.
So yeah. Suddenly realizing that he wasn’t into her. That was a thing now.
Stiles watched the shadows lengthen and change over his ceiling until his eyes drifted shut, his own breathing unconsciously matching Lydia’s. The clock ticked. The house settled as older houses do, quiet in the dark night.
Stiles was so tired, and so deeply asleep that he didn’t notice when his door popped open with a small click. He didn’t notice the concerned, but helplessly fond look on his dad’s face, or the way he raised his eyebrow and smirked a little before shaking his head and shutting the door again, moving on soundless feet back to his bedroom.
Nor did Stiles notice, hours later, the almost soundless sniiiick of his window sliding open, the jean-clad leg that eased its way through, or the way the intruder froze on the windowsill. Eyes gleamed red in the dark night, as the nostrils flared, smelled the stink of the mixed scents in the room.
Stiles’ dad understood his son, understood how much he needed to help; to feel needed, to be kind to someone who needed him. He saw the way they’d fallen asleep on top of the covers, curled together in an innocent sleep.
Derek Hale did not.
Derek disappeared back out of the window with a snarl, held in the howl of rage until he couldn’t any longer...missing the way that Stiles turned towards the window with a sleepy mumble, reaching out towards the empty space with a sleep-deadened hand.
Previous || Next
Fandom: Teenwolf (shame. I have none.)
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 3600, 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 the first chapter of this for me, but everything else is unbeta'd. Jen has the patience of a saint. That is all. Chapter Notes: 1) I made it so that it's at the end of school; sorry if that's not canon. 2) Also, this is officially an AU due to the damn writers not doing anything that I expected. 3) I seem to be banging this out more quickly than I had anticipated, but my usual posting schedule is once every 2-3 days. :)
Chapter 3
The last day of school was overcast. They were close enough to the North corner of Oregon that they got a pretty fair amount of rain. People thought all of California was Hollywood and beaches and botox. Stiles winced at a crack of thunder and parked his jeep, sighing. His phone beeped, and he glanced down at it.
The phone had just appeared on his bed one day while he'd been in the shower. Derek had been the first person to text him, but Stiles hadn’t exactly needed a reminder of who would have gone to the trouble to get him a phone. The text had just read ‘Sorry you lost yours. Hope this is a good substitute.’ Of course it was. Derek had gotten him an exact replica of his last phone.
In the past week since everything had happened, Stiles had heard from Jackson, who had been told by Issac that Derek had taken Erica and gone on a hunt for the creature. With the Argents. Talk about a freaking ballsy move.
Whatever was going on with Principal Argent and Allison’s scary-as-fuck mom was another thing that had happened without Stiles being in the loop. All he knew is that Scott had stopped talking, that Derek and his new packmates had taken off for fuck knew where. Stiles had been able to avoid his dad for most of the time, making sure he was gone when his dad was getting home, pretending to be asleep, going into school early. Things like that.
There was a tapping on his jeep window and Stiles jolted. Lydia smiled at him. Stiles knew gaping wasn’t exactly attractive, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
That was another thing.
Lydia had ... started being friendly. Well, it had helped that she acknowledged him when he walked into a room instead of looking through him, but there were definite tones of friendliness when she talked to or texted him.
His life was weird.
“Hi, Lydia.”
“So did you mean it when you said that we could study for our English tests together? I’ve been really distracted lately and could definitely use the help. They’re letting me take them late since I was in the hospital so long.”
“Sure. That’s cool. My last one is today.” Lydia took a step back, and Stiles got of out of the jeep, slamming the door shut with his hip. “I don’t get why it has to be cumulative. That’s just!” He shook his head.
Lydia was nodding, rolling her eyes. “Yeah. Like, what’s the point? To see how much we could cram into our brains to pass a test? It’s not like anyone remembers that crap.”
Stiles kind of remembered that crap, but he wasn’t stupid enough to mention it at this particular juncture. “I know. So yeah. You know where I live?”
“Yeah.” Her phone rang. She gave a little finger wave and Stiles stopped to watch the view as she walked away. He considered giving himself a high-five but thought that would look really stupid so managed to refrain. He turned and walked right into someone a solid mass of muscle. Hands came around to cup his shoulders so he wouldn’t fall, and Stiles gasped a little, shocked.
“Derek!” Jesus Christ, how did he just appear?
Derek raised an eyebrow and took a step away from Stiles. “Your text said you had something important for me.”
Stiles knew he was gaping like an idiot. The first bell rang and he cringed. It was the last day; and his final wasn’t for another fifty minutes. He turned and got back into the jeep, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He had sent the text like, three days ago. He hadn’t gotten a response and hadn’t really thought about it. Okay. Fine. He’d only stared at his phone, willing it to text him back... maybe twice. Or five times. Whatever.
Derek walked around and slid into the passenger side seat.
“Do you want an egg burrito? I want an egg burrito. Donelly’s has the best, and I want one.”
Derek just looked at him. Stiles was flooded with images that he thought he’d done a pretty damn good job of burying deep in his subconscious, but just seeing him again had them all dancing in technicolor in his brain. He hoped that werewolves couldn’t smell the way his dick went half-hard at just the scent of Derek that was suddenly prevalent throughout his jeep.
“That sounds fine.” Derek looked at him again, staring right at him. It was disconcerting as hell. “Your eye is looking much better.”
Stiles sucked in a deep breath. His skin had that too-tight feeling again. Then what he said hit him. “My eye?”
Derek rolled his eyes. “Stiles. That lizard scratched your eyelid, and part of your cheekbone. I thought you were going to lose your eye. I almost said ‘fuck it’ and took you to Dr. Denton.”
Stiles immediately brought his hand up to his eye. It had been a week, but even that morning he'd woken up, in the bathroom there hadn’t been so much as a scratch. “Wh--what?”
Derek looked away, the faintest of pink tinges on his cheeks.
Stiles was fascinated.
Derek cleared his throat. “The saliva of a werewolf has healing properties. There--”
“YOU LICKED ME?!!” The jeep screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. Stiles couldn’t help it; he could only gape at Derek like a complete idiot.
“Drive, Stiles.” The growl was back in his voice. Derek stared out the windshield, muscle in his jaw twitching.
“But! You! Tongue!” Stiles wheezed, still gaping.
Derek just turned and stared at him. There was a honk, and Stiles jolted, letting his foot off the break just in time to catch a red light.
Stiles mentally flailed a bit, looking for something to say. Usually this was not an issue with him. “You said you don’t really eat breakfast, but you know that breakfast really is the most important meal of the day but if you don’t want something greasy Donelly’s makes--”
“Stiles.” Derek’s hand shot out to clamp over his wrist. “Calm down.”His nostrils flared slightly, and Stiles winced again.
“Please don’t tell me I smell bad. Scott said that I reeked.” Stiles laughed a terribly fake laugh, nodded and pulled on his wrist.
Derek let him go immediately, still watching him. “Did he?”
“Yeah. Like ‘Eau de Derek’. I don’t know what it is with you guys and smell. Do we like... smell bad all the time?”
“Not bad exactly. Just different.”
Huhnnh. Different bad or different good? Stiles took a left, then a right and pulled up into the drive-thru. There was the usual morning rush, and Stiles blurted out his question before he could make himself stop. “What do I smell like?”
Derek went very still, leaning forward slightly and inhaling. He looked at Stiles. Stiles had frozen as well, his brain going from a panicked what the fuh-- to a blessedly quiet white noise. Derek tilted his head down even further, and for one crazy second Stiles thought that Derek was going to kiss him. Derek lightly moved his lips closer to Stiles’ cheekbone, so that they were centimeters from his skin. Derek moved down, burying his nose in the spot under Stiles’ ear and Stiles bit his lip hard to keep the needy little sound that he desperately needed to make behind his teeth. Derek breathed deeply. Stiles dick went from half-hard to uncomfortable as it pressed against the inside zipper of his jeans.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
Stiles opened his mouth to answer when a blare of a horn behind him caused him to jump. Derek was back in his seat before he could blink, leaving Stiles to meet the gaze of the disgruntled driver behind him. His eyes widened. “Ohhh, shiiiiiiit,” he breathed. In the rear-view mirror, his father’s very, very unhappy face stared back at him from the police cruiser.
Stiles inched the jeep up to the drive-thru window on autopilot.
“Stiles?” Derek gave him a very weird look.
“Yeah just a second. “Hello? Hello! Ha! Ha ha! Isn’t a beautiful morning! No I would not like to dry a Donnely’s Delight. I would however be happy to have two egg and sausage burritos and one very large coffee. Make that two coffees.” He turned. “Do you want anything else?” Derek shook his head. “And I would like to buy the breakfast of the hard-working police chief back behind us. Because I am an excellent citizen.” Derek stiffened besides him, looking behind the jeep’s seat with a muttered curse.
There was a pause. “Um. Do y’all want cream and sugar with that?”
“Yes, indeed. Thank you very much.” He inched up a little further. “So, okay. That definitely didn’t look good. And my dad? Yeah, my dad’s behind us in case you didn’t put that together. Or! Or perhaps you did given that you’re a super freaked out. I don’t know why you would be freaked out. You’re not the one that had to explain the bruises from several rather pants-shittingly terrifying nights to an extremely overprotective dad. Because! You heal. Ah-haha. I hope that this is a really good burrito because my dad is going to fucking kill me.” Stiles huffed out a breath, gripping the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles went white, locking his teeth together so that he would shut. up.
“Hi! That will be fourteen-fifty!”
“Here’s thirty. Do me a favor? Can you tell the Sheriff that his son loves him and any death he is perhaps plotting can wait until after my English final?”
“Uh.... sure....”
“Great.” Stiles frowned, handing Derek his coffee. His dick gave a pathetic jump when their fingers brushed together. Stupid dick. He handed the lady the contents of his wallet and took the grease-spotted bag in exchange. He dug into the bag and shoved a burrito in his mouth, munching decisively. He put the rest back into the bag, knowing that if his dad saw him eating behind the wheel of a car his life and chances of driving ever again would be over.
Stiles didn’t bother trying to evade what he knew was going to happen next. He drove back to the school, obeying every single rule of the road, completely and utterly unsurprised when his dad followed him. Derek was strangely quiet. beside him, sipping his coffee without even an amused snort.
“Well. This has been... interesting. Good luck on your final. Thank you for the coffee.”
“Yeah.”
It wasn’t until after Derek had walked back to his Camaro and Stiles had slunk into the school that Stiles realized that he had never told Derek what he’d found out about the Kamina.
“Fuuuuuuck!”
At least his burritos were good.
***
Stiles’ phone was ominously quiet on the texting front. His dad hadn’t had one thing to say. They must teach that level of abject fear in parent school: worrying about what was going to happen was just as terrifying as knowing what was going to happen. He’d finished his finals, said goodbye to the three or four people he knew that were graduating, then had driven home. He’d even whistled as he ran up the steps, unlocked his door, and walked into his house. His dad was here.
Obviously he’d be completely thrown off the scent of groundation by Stiles’ freakishly cheerful whistling. He tossed his backpack near the couch and ran upstairs, aiming for his room.
It was kind of a shock to find Lydia Martin curled up on his bed, reading a book. Stiles actually blinked twice before he figured out that no, his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.
“H-hello?”
She looked up at him, and Stiles flinched. He could see that she had been crying. In the low light of the room, she looked utterly exhausted.
“Your mom used to be my favorite teacher.”
Stiles actually staggered for a minute. Lydia wasn’t looking at the English book he thought she’d be looking at, but instead looking through the photo album he and his dad had made, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Oh? Uh. Yeah. I’ve heard that a few times. Thank you.” Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it. Awkward wasn’t even in the same word bank as what he
was feeling at the moment.
“Your dad let me in.”
“My--.” Oh dear Jesus jumping Christ on a polka-dotted mule. There was no way to explain this. Stiles didn’t even try to leave the door closed. His dad was going to have quite a lot to say, between catching him at Derek’s, catching him with Derek and not in school, and meeting the drop-dead gorgeous girl that was currently making herself at home on his bed.
What the fuck was his life, seriously!
“Is that a problem? It’s Hemingway, not Hentai.”
Stiles kind of loved her a little bit for knowing what Hentai was. “Right! He’s pretty cool. Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but are you.. uh.. sure that you’re okay?”
She glared at him. “What do you mean?”
Stiles held up his hands and cautiously eased one hip onto the corner of his mattress. “You just...” Lydia turned her head, ready to flounce off the bed. Stiles saw the cut on the back of her neck and whipped out his hand to grab her arm under her shoulder.
“Hey! What the--! Stiles!” Her furious hiss was loud in the quiet room.
But Stiles was too busy pawing at her long, red hair, scooping it off of her neck to see if what he thought he’d seen was real. The elbow way too close to his nuts was expected and easily avoided. Lydia hissed like a cat, pushing with her shoulder so that she rolled off the bed.
“Wait!” Stiles cut his gaze to his open door, then to where Lydia was standing, chest heaving. She had his mom’s photo album in her hand, ready to wing it. Stiles didn’t think- just reacted, faceplanting into his mattress and pointing to the back of his neck. The past week had made the small gash look less angry and infected looking, but it still stung when touched. There was a large lump just under the skin that Stiles was too afraid to prod to hard. He’d seen Aliens too many times: no fucking thanks.
He chanced a glance up and Lydia was crying again, just completely weeping silently, one hand to her mouth. The photo album slid from her grip to the floor with a thump. Stiles was up on his feet in a second, holding her, a little freaked out, but he felt too sorry to leave her just standing there. It was even more surprising that she allowed him to hold her like this.
Lydia was a mess; snot and tears everywhere, her face hot against Stiles’ neck. He saw his dad peek in the door with his eyebrows raised. Stiles gave him a ‘I have no idea’ sort of expression and his dad frowned, then shut the door with a small click. Stiles wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. He rested one on her shoulder and the other he used to awkwardly pat her back. Stiles felt tears in his own eyes. Jesus. Stiles didn’t have anywhere else to steer her but his bed. He tried not to feel skeeved out- like the world’s biggest creeper- as she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck. Stiles reached a little to his left for the kleenex he kept there for... other reasons... and tried to hand her some. Lydia wouldn’t let go but moved with him so that they were both lying on Stiles’ bed, Lydia still sobbing.
Stiles didn’t know how long she cried and he held her, but it was dark when her sobs trailed off to snuffles, the snuffles to these adorable little hiccups, then the hiccups to the occasional huff of breath.
All Stiles could hear was his clock, ticking quietly. “Hey.” He whispered. “I’m going to get you a drink, okay? Do you want the light?” There seemed to be a large blockage in Stiles’ throat. He remembered the last time she’d flopped over on him. He’d thought he was about to come in his pants. This though? This was different. he cleared his throat moved to sit up.
Lydia shook her head, still buried in his collarbone. She hugged him tightly for a minute, then let go, curling up protectively on herself. Stiles sniffed and went into his bathroom for a cool cloth. The house was quiet when he went downstairs to get a bottle of water. Stiles knew his dad was stockpiling things to “discuss” with him. At this rate he’d have to take a sick day just so that they can talk about everything, but for crying females and the taking care of, his dad was willing to keep himself scarce.. something that Stiles really, really appreciated.
Stiles jogged back up the stairs to find that Lydia hadn’t moved. Stiles didn’t quite know what to do. “Lydia?” Her wet eyes glinted in the dark room. He held out the water, and went to get her washcloth that he’d left in the sink. It felt good to take care of someone. Stiles bit his lip, then told himself not to be such a dumbass and stretched out on the bed.
“I can’t remember what happened to me. I’m having these... dreams. When I’m awake.” Her voice was wrecked, a tiny whisper in his room. She shifted, pushing Stiles back onto his back and lying down on his arm. “I... can’t remember what I’m doing. Since that... that man attacked me. I woke up, and it’s like I’m still dreaming half the time.” Stiles froze, his heart giving a funny sort of wiggle, then relaxed, feeling extremely awkward as he patted her back. She gave a really disgustingly wet sniff, and leaned up to get at his kleenex. Stiles shifted with her, moving so that he didn’t get a boob in his face.
“It’s just... everything is... Allison said that you’re a really sweet person and ... I wasn’t going to dump all this on you but I couldn’t. And then you had it too, and I just...”
“Lost your shit. Yeah. It’s okay. I’ve always wanted to make a beautiful woman burst into hysterical tears. In my bed.” Stiles gave her a truly ridiculous eyebrow wiggle and she obliged him with a weak, watery-sounding chuckle.
“So, how did it get you?”
“I was stupid. Waiting for Jackson outside of the locker room. It was late... and sometimes we. Uh.”
“Bone like monkeys?” Stiles’ grin was a bright flash in the darkness. He deserved the sharp elbow to the ribs, and only wheezed a little.
“You?”
“In the woods. About a week ago.”
Lydia sucked in a deep breath, realizing exactly why he’d been in the woods in the first place. Stiles found himself squeezing her, like she needed the comfort more than he did.
They were quiet. Stiles listened to her breathing slow down, become deeper, even as she fell asleep. He was at once both completely freaked and totally proud of himself that of all the people she knew, somehow she had trusted him with this. She smelled girly; like some kind of flower. Stiles breathed deeply and raised an eyebrow at the ceiling, waiting for his body to react. Derek had just sat in his car and he’d practically busted a nut. Lydia Martin. Lydia. freaking. Martin. was asleep in his bed, curled up into him completely trustingly, her hand clenched on his t shirt like she was afraid he’d push her away.
So yeah. Suddenly realizing that he wasn’t into her. That was a thing now.
Stiles watched the shadows lengthen and change over his ceiling until his eyes drifted shut, his own breathing unconsciously matching Lydia’s. The clock ticked. The house settled as older houses do, quiet in the dark night.
Stiles was so tired, and so deeply asleep that he didn’t notice when his door popped open with a small click. He didn’t notice the concerned, but helplessly fond look on his dad’s face, or the way he raised his eyebrow and smirked a little before shaking his head and shutting the door again, moving on soundless feet back to his bedroom.
Nor did Stiles notice, hours later, the almost soundless sniiiick of his window sliding open, the jean-clad leg that eased its way through, or the way the intruder froze on the windowsill. Eyes gleamed red in the dark night, as the nostrils flared, smelled the stink of the mixed scents in the room.
Stiles’ dad understood his son, understood how much he needed to help; to feel needed, to be kind to someone who needed him. He saw the way they’d fallen asleep on top of the covers, curled together in an innocent sleep.
Derek Hale did not.
Derek disappeared back out of the window with a snarl, held in the howl of rage until he couldn’t any longer...missing the way that Stiles turned towards the window with a sleepy mumble, reaching out towards the empty space with a sleep-deadened hand.
Previous || Next
