Hey There Little Red 5/?
Jun. 29th, 2012 12:53 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: 5550, 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.
Stiles ran out of gas somewhere near Eugene. He had almost lost it once when he saw the dark signs for Wolfy Creek Park, but held it in by biting his lip until he tasted blood. Stiles coasted onto the side of the road and frowned up at the dark sky. He finally let himself break down, burying his face in his hoodie as he cried. He felt like a complete and utter reject, but he’d managed to hold it inside for for the three and a half hours that he’d been driving, and was kind of proud of himself for not wrecking the damn jeep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Derek, and knew, knew that wherever Derek was right now, he was either disgusted or laughing. Or homicidally pissed off. Or some weird Alpha version of all three. Of course he would be. He already couldn’t stand Stiles. He’d already had to deal with him: his mouth and his spazz and his sarcasm, and let’s face it. Derek Hale really wasn’t the kind of guy to take kindly to some dumb kid jerking off over him.
Stiles had seen how the other players on the team treated Danny when he wasn’t looking. Or when Jackson wasn’t watching out for him. It completely helped that the both of them were built like a brick shithouse and Stiles... well. He was pretty good at math. No one called Danny names to his face, but behind his back... people were pretty shitty. Maybe that’s why he’d kept his “curiosity” to himself, instead of admitting what he wanted.
Or who.
Derek was obviously not into guys. All Stiles needed to check that little fact was to look at how he let Erica... let Erica do whatever she wanted. Hell, he’d wanted her so badly that he’d turned her. She was part of the pack.
And Stiles? Stiles was not.
Stiles wiped his nose with the back of his hand, moaning a little at the remembered embarrassment. Of all people that could have gotten an eyeful... did it have to be Derek? Stiles felt sick as his mind’s eye pictured exactly what Derek must have seen. Him, with his fucking legs spread wide--- no. He couldn’t do this.
Stiles slammed his hands on the steering wheel. He scrubbed his face then dug in his backpack for his wallet, huffing a little bit as he got his breathing back under control. Of course now, he felt completely sick to his stomach, and his eyes were swollen. Fucking awesome.
Stiles knew that he couldn’t stay away for forever. He wasn’t stupid, and he refused to act like he was some dumb heroine on an Mtv after-school special. But ... some distance was good. For right now. Stiles knew he had only about a hundred bucks on him anyway, so it wasn’t like he could just disappear. Stiles sighed and hitched his red hoodie tighter around him. There had to be a gas station somewhere. He got his gas can out of the back and grabbed his phone, locking his jeep and heading towards the small town. He frowned. Shit. he should have brought his charger. Great. He was going to end up like some statistic... lost in the woods with no phone battery...
As if to punctuate the thought, Stiles heard a coyote howl, echoing through the quiet night.
“Fuck my life. Seriously.”
As he walked, he could see that the moon was almost full. Two days from now. Well, maybe all the pack shit would make Derek forget about him. Stiles snorted. Yeah, right.He could see lights in the distance, and was grateful. He was pretty tired. His vision was at times blurry and so clear that he had to blink a couple of times, wondering if he’d just walked through a foggy patch and not realized it.
It wasn’t very hard to find a gas station. The walk back was exhausting, and by the time he got there he seriously thought about just sleeping in his jeep. Stiles opened up his laptop to check for hotels in the area. When he came across the email from the Professor, the idea had made him forget a little of his misery. That’s it! He could be useful. Use this as his excuse for leaving. Stiles checked the reviews on a hotel near the the college, but stopped when he saw ‘cheap’ and ‘out of the way.’ That was good enough.
The place was definitely out of the way. He’d had to use the GPS on his phone to get there, and the result was an old-fashioned motel. It looked a little worn, but perfectly fine. Stiles smiled, the action feeling weird on his face. Less Norman Bates, and more Cozy Cone. Instead of a string of rooms all connected to each other, the small motel took advantage of the woodsy clientele that came this way to hike in Tilamook or Cape Lookout. It was set almost in the woods, with little courtyards facing the line of trees. The night clerk barely blinked as Stiles paid for three nights. He didn’t even ask for a license, giving him a smirk and a once-over. Stiles had to roll his eyes. He wasn’t sure what the guy was thinking, but he was pretty sure that it involved meeting someone for wild monkey sex. When Stiles asked for one of the cabins that was the furthest away, the smirk just got sharper. That left him 20 bucks for food. Well, he wasn’t all that hungry anyway. He made his way to his cabin on auto-pilot.
The room was small, but looked amazing to his exhausted eyes. The bed was kind of on the small side. The bathroom was nice, and obviously newly redone with an oversized bathtub. Stiles washed his face, not meeting his eyes in the mirror. He made himself take a quick shower, more to wash the dried and flaky come off himself before he slept.
The bed felt perfect as he stretched out. The mattress was ridiculously fluffy, and Stiles felt surrounded by awesome as he punched the pillow into shape. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling his chest and his throat tighten up again as his mind wandered over to a few hours ago. It was already almost daylight and he craved sleep. “No... not gonna do this again. It’s stupid.” It was. Stupid and useless.
It took awhile for him to fall asleep.
***
When Stiles woke up he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. He fumbled for his phone and texted his dad. Stiles
was too ashamed to admit how much he wanted to hear his voice, but usually at those type of conference things he couldn’t talk anyway, so it was easy to talk himself out of it. He found a couple of Advil in the bottom of his backpack and dry-swallowed them, gagging a little. Before he could chicken out, Stiles emailed the professor and told him that he was in town, but had to leave the day after tomorrow. He shivered, then got up to turn off the air-conditioning. His skin was cold and clammy. The bug he’d been fighting had come up on him with a vengeance.
His phone chirped and he frowned down at a message from Lydia.
so.. what’s up? Want to meet for coffee?”
He texted back:
No. Can’t, sorry. I had to go out of town for a few days. Maybe when I get back?
Stiles saw that he had two missed texts and cringed. The text from Derek made him freeze.
We need to talk.
No.nono the fuck no we do not. need to talk. Stiles deleted it, rather savagely. He ignored that message and saw one from earlier that morning from Scott.
Hey! Hope everything worked out with your dad. I trust him, man. I’m going to tell Derek what I did. I don’t feel right lying to him about it.
Stiles’ eyes bugged.
ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY???
He sucked his teeth and crazily, found himself laughing. Jesus. Jesus Scott was going to fucking get him killed. He’d known it since the first time his best friend thrown Stiles into a wall. Derek was going to know, and ....
Fuck it. Stiles knew that he should get up, should find something productive to do, but he was too tired. He just wanted to sleep. Leaving his Mac plugged in so that he’d hear his email notification, Stiles rolled over and fell back asleep, almost at once.
When he woke up the second time, he had four missed texts and an email from Professor Levitt.
To: stiles_the_still@hotmail.com
From: Thomas.Levitt@orr.com
Re: Re: Research Project
How fortuitous! I look forward to meeting with you. There is a small campus coffee shop that would be quite convenient for me, as i have a break between classes. I’m afraid that I am busy in the afternoon. Are you by chance free at 10:00 am? The coffee shop is called “The Beanie”, on Ulysses and Hawthorne.
Thomas. Levitt, Professor of Biology and Endangered Species, .M.S. PhD.
Stiles groaned, his mouth like cotton. He glanced at the clock on his computer and was shocked to see that it was almost 6:30 in the evening. Shit. It was already 6:30! How fucking long had he slept? He staggered to the bathroom and cupped some water into his hand, drinking gratefully. He had to pee and winced when he went. His bladder felt swollen and sore, like he’d been kicked. His eyes also looked like he had been punched, with big circles under his eyes. Stiles drank some more water and walked back to his bed, emailing the professor back.
To: Thomas.Levitt@orr.com
From: stiles_the_still@hotmail.com
Re: Re: Re: Research Project
Professor Levitt.,
Thanks! I appreciate that. I will see you then.
Stiles Stillinski
He shut the computer, making a mental note to google directions later.
The first message was from Lydia:
Look forward to it. :) See you then.
The second was from Scott:
wtf. Derek is looking for you. Where RU?
The other two were from Derek.
Stiles.
Ignoring me is a mistake. Call me.
“Yeah, well tough shit.” His voice was croaky and tired, came out sounding whiny and petulant. “You can fuck right off. Nooo thanks. Not going there.” Stiles whispered, “I can’t.” and went to go take a shower. He was covered in a clammy sweat and felt disgusting. Maybe he’d feel better with a shower. And he needed some damn DayQuil or something. He hated being sick. He fell back into bed with a groan.
***
‘Mr. Stillinski?”
The voice was smooth and pleasant, with a small lisp on the ‘s’ in his name. He was wearing jeans, loafers, and an honest-to-God tweed jacket. Professor Levitt had to be at least in his late 60’s, with a balding head and large, faintly watery eyes.
Stiles smiled weakly. His stomach was jumping around like that time he and Scott had a race to see who could eat all the Halloween candy the quickest. Stiles had won in six minutes, twenty-three seconds. “Yes. Hello.” Stiles reached up to shake the older man’s hand, but was surprised when instead of the heavy handshake that the pleasant smile implied, the older man stepped back rather abruptly with a flickering look on his face.
“Ah, we can sit right here. Do you want anything to drink?”
Stiles was a little weirded out. The Professor’s smile was overbright, and his voice was weirdly loud, like a phone that was on the wrong volume setting. he winced, and the professor’s gaze sharpened.
“No. Thanks.” Stiles smiled wanly. “I would like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind, sir. You indicated before that you know what the Kanima is. What can you tell me?” His throat still hurt. His ears felt weird; he could hear clearly then it felt like they were packed in cotton.
The professor leaned forward, his nostrils flaring just slightly and all at once Stiles understood exactly who it was that he was speaking to. As if agreeing, the professor’s eyes flicked once, pupils cold and reptilian, the retinas the sick yellow Stiles still saw in his nightmares. His own eyes widened, heartbeat tripping over itself.
“I can tell you quite a lot.” The older man smirked. Stiles’ feeling of wrongness made him shift back in his seat, uncomfortable now.
“Okay.. the toxin. What’s that all about? Does the kanima have a pack? What makes...”
The professor held up his hand.
“The Kanima are not intrinsically pack creatures. They tend to pair up rather than look for a group.”
“How do they chose?”
“Hm. Depends. We are tied to the moon, but each kanima has its own... power. They are able to shift whenever they need to. Whenever they feel threatened, or feel that their mate has been threatened.”
“Mate?”
The waitress gave Stiles a very strange look, then huffed, rolling her eyes when they waved her off, muttering under her breath about assholes who just took up space meant for customers.
“Not always a mate for ... procreation. Mates can be companions, friends. In fact, frequently are.”
“How do they.. uh. make other Kanimas?”
“They generally do not. Freshly turned bulls are kept away from humans until they are more in control. Occasionally though, mistakes happen. To answer your question, we turn our mates by a marking them at the cervical vertebrae.” He paused. “The top of the spine. The toxin... excuse my rudeness, but are you quite well?”
Stiles felt black spots take over his vision. He heard his voice as though through a long tunnel. “With intent? Derek said Alpha wolves have to have intent to turn...”
The effect of his words was like a slap to the face. The brief concern disappeared off of his face. The older man jumped up, practically reeking of fear. The bitter smell was like a dark flavor on his tongue. Stiles felt bile climb into his throat.
“Alphas? You’re from Beacon Hills? Derek Hale’s pack?” Levitt’s voice was a furious, terrified whisper. He actually looked around as though he expected Derek to jump out of a frappachino. “Oh dear God.” The professor threw some money on the table and turned, obviously searching for someone. “You must tell him that I meant no harm. No insult.”
Stiles was feeling lightheaded. He was having trouble following all of the conversation. Panic was bleeding through his brain. My neck oh god no the neck through the neck Jesus fucking Christ no. What Levitt was saying wasn’t making sense.
“I knew you smelled like wolf. I...” The professor reached out his hand, and Stiles saw a petite woman clutch at his it obviously picking up on his fear. She turned huge, terrified doe eyes to Stiles who blinked the stinging sweat out of his own eyes, desperately trying to focus. “Please. Please, I never would have asked you to come here if I...”
“Wait,” Stiles wasn’t sure if he spoke or not. The professor and his lady mate. that’s his mate, he came here with his mate his mind helpfully babbled, left quickly, leaving Stiles alone in the coffee shop, the patrons looking at him like he was dangerous. Or deranged. Stiles felt both.
“Uh. Sorry.” Stiles stood, his knees shaky. He wasn’t sure if it was shock, or if it was the fact some fucking monster had turned him into Godzilla. He wanted to go back to his motel room. Getting behind the wheel of his jeep was an exercise in patience. Stiles made himself focus. He made himself shift, then drive. He kept himself from panicking by concentrating on tiny, small tasks. The motel wasn’t far, but to Stiles it felt like years before he made it there. He vomited once, outside of his jeep. That scared him more than anything, because it was the deep black ichor that Derek had had when poisoned.
His heartbeat was like some small, frightened thing, trapped in his throat. He knew that he was scared. God, was he scared. He had the crazy thought that if he could just get inside... he’d be okay.
Stiles got up and staggered to unlock the door, tripping and barking his cheekbone on the doorjam before falling down onto his hands and knees. He couldn’t breathe. The spots in front of his eyes were now huge floating dots, dots that turned into claws and teeth that came for him. His whole body was convulsing, muscles seizing up as he writhed on the carpet. It brushed against skin that felt too sensitive; like the buzz of an electric shock right beneath the surface. Stiles was seeing things, was scared that what he thought he saw wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
His brain just gave up. Maybe it was protecting him. Maybe he was just unlucky. When Stiles woke up again, it was almost full dark. He knew at once that the moon had not yet risen.
Stiles gagged, forcing himself to the bathroom where he got sick again, clutching the toilet, his sweaty hands sliding right down the porcelain bowl and onto the floor. He thought of his dad, about how much he worried about him, about how he’d been shocked and not-shocked at learning about the wolves in sheep’s clothing that ran amok in his small town. He thought of Scott, of Lydia and fear for her spiked more adrenaline through his system, which rebelled as weak bile spewed from his throat. He lay shaking, panting on the floor, hoping that she wasn’t going through this but knowing that of course she had to be.
Stiles thought of Derek, and even as sick as he was he wanted to apologize, to show his throat so that Derek would let him in; would let him belong with the rest.
“Derek....”
Everything in him desperately needed him, wanted him to keep Stiles safe, to make this stop.
“Stiles? What the fuck?”
And Stiles laughed at the way his mind conjured Derek up, like he was actually in the bathroom with him. His voice almost sounded real. Stiles could almost feel that burning gaze on him, but knew he was alone, right? He could only smell himself, sick and broken. Dying.
“Dead. Gonna... sick” And he was. The black stuff this time, which burned his throat. It made him cry out as he retched, only he could only whimper.
Derek’s growl made him cringe. “Stiles! Where? Tell me where you are. Stiles!”
The beeps of the dead battery were loud in his ears. It made him flinch away from his phone. His body convulsed again and his phone landed with a wet splat in the muck. Stiles hadn’t realized that he had even called Derek. He’d thought Derek was here with him, and for a second the crushing realization that no, he really was all alone, that he was going to die like this with no one to help him, no one to care hurt. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not. If he was really talking or if he was imagining it. He whispered it anyway. Or thought he did.
“...I’m sorry..”
Two more beeps, and his phone went dead.
Stiles collapsed, unconscious.
***
The problem, Derek reflected, with being an Alpha, was that everyone seemed to expect that he always knew what the fuck he was doing. Even when he didn’t. As a Beta, he could fuck up. Laura was his leader, his pack, his friend. They’d been together almost since birth. Laura had been only one year older, but even back then she’d been focused. Driven.
Pack was everything, Derek. Protect the pack.
And everything she’d done was to do that.
Derek wanted to roll his eyes. Here he was, stuck in a vehicle with the three newest members of his pack. Erica stared out the window, completely bored, stretching her gum out, over and over.
Isaac had his earbuds on as low as they would go, but that was still pretty damn loud. Derek could hear every single word. He wanted to bite something. He didn’t begrudge Isaac the whole educational experience. If Isaac wanted to read, great. Reading was at least quiet. But the audiobook? Fuck. Derek was stuck hearing exactly what Bella and Edward were up to. He didn’t know when dawn was going to break, but he hoped it was pretty fucking soon.
Boyd was driving. Boyd, he liked. Boyd was quiet. He didn’t argue. He could handle himself in a fight. He’d been sick from some human illness that was killing off his innards, but Derek’s bite had changed all that. He accepted the gift, and was completely and utterly loyal to whatever Derek wanted him to do.
Erica whined a little in the back of her throat. “Are we there yet?”
Fucking puppies.
Still, Derek could agree with her. He wanted to be back in Beacon Hills. His base. His home.
His pack.
Stiles.
He frowned, looking down at his phone. Stiles had texted him yesterday, and Derek still hadn’t responded. He wasn’t sure what to say, to be honest. He couldn’t help the bass growl low in his throat. All three of his wolves sat up. Isaac took the earbud out of his ear and looked around wildly.
Erica met his gaze in the mirror and looked away, shrinking lower in her seat. Hours ago, when Derek had asked her with complete calm about Stiles’ text, She’d laughed. His wolf hadn’t cared for that much at all.
“Figures the little bitch would tattle on me. You said to make sure he didn’t stick his nose in. I just made sure of that.”
Guilt had swam sickly in his gut. True as far as it went, but imagining Stiles bruised.... Erica had just laughed when Derek had slammed her up against the wall, locking her legs around him with a feral grin. When Derek had gone for her throat she had looked up at him, completely shocked, blood fountaining from the teeth marks in her long, white throat.
“Do not mark him again.”
He had been careful to not kill her, but had torn her throat out slowly, so that she could heal. Erica on her knees, trying to bend to show her belly and throat had filled him with a twisted little feeling of rightness. He wondered if his uncle had ever felt the same when he disciplined Derek for acting out. Of course that was before he’d gone completely and utterly batshit insane. Derek had blinked, ignoring Erica’s little whine, and had turned away.
Boyd and Isaac had looked on but had waited until Derek had turned diffidently away before going to help their packmate. On the plus side, Erica hadn’t gone near him, hadn’t flirted, hadn’t even looked at him with anything but respect.
Being an Alpha had a bit of a learning curve. He’d known there would be a certain settling-in period. That’s what Laura had called it. Her temper had boiled over more often than not; she’d been overly aggressive and moody. So Derek knew what to expect, but... didn’t really have the first-hand knowledge of how it would end up affecting him.
“So who do you think it is?” Boyd’s deep voice jarred Derek out of his thoughts.
Derek shrugged with one twitch of his shoulder. In his mind’s eye he could see that... girl curled up with Stiles, asleep in his bed. His wolf growled deeply, and Derek had to work to suppress the jealousy before he shifted in the middle of the fucking car. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to go to just... check... that she wasn’t in Stiles’ bed anymore. Derek fought the desire to whip out his dick and just piss in a circle around Stiles’ house. Or his bedroom. Or fuck... his bed.
After Stiles has been taken in by the toxin, Derek had found himself staying with Stiles the whole night, watching the younger man sleep, feeling both sickened by his regard and calmed by watching. His wolf and his human side, a constant struggle for dominance. Sometimes his human side seemed very far away. Stiles had been sprawled in his bed, sliding from the toxin’s paralysis to true, real sleep within a heartbeat. He’d muttered a little in his sleep (It truly came as no surprise that Stiles couldn’t stop talking: even in sleep) and Derek had slowly allowed himself to relax, allowed himself to mark him with his scent again, rumbling a little at the way their combined scents mingled together with something that called to him. Something like home and comfort and mate .
Then to have Stiles wake up with another name on his lips? Oh, he’d been furious.
“It is either Jackson or Lydia. Both have unexplained incidents that I would like explained.” He would capture Jackson first, but Derek knew in his heart that he would be pleased to kill the girl.
“What are we gonna do about them?” Isaac sounded pitifully excited. Derek hid a small smirk. Puppies were always excited. It was just their nature.
“We wait. After the full moon, we will ... discuss things with the two of them.” Derek saw again her hair tangled on Stiles’ pillow, her hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He wanted to feel ridiculous that he was so jealous of a high school girl, but his wolf wouldn’t let him. It just growled, paced within him, wanted to... bite. To take out his competition with one quick snap of his teeth.
Boyd pulled into the warehouse and the three of them got out. Derek hadn’t really questioned why he didn’t really allow the three of them at his home, and instead conducted pack business here. He had contractors coming out to gut the parts of his home that were unlivable, and Derek planned to rebuild the rest. He’d been lucky. One of the guest bedrooms, and most of the kitchen had been untouched by the fire. It seemed ironic that that had been where they’d found...
Derek swallowed, hard, slid over to the driver’s seat, and driven to Stiles’ house to find out what Stiles had wanted to discuss.
And then?
Derek had heard him before he saw him. The wolf had snarled. The Alpha had gnashed his teeth at the idea of interrupting the two of them together, and Derek had been on the roof and looking in the window before he’d realized that there was only one scent. He must have made some sound in his shock, because Stiles turned, his lust-fogged eyes meeting Derek’s, and Derek had felt poleaxed. He could barely control himself. The wolf wanted. He’d heard himself speak Stiles’ name, had watched, mouth watering as Stiles had come all over himself, had shifted forward just the slightest bit to taste and suck and mark all of the skin in front of him... and had frozen, terrified.
The wolf wanted... but Derek wasn’t only the wolf. He could control himself.
Laughable.
His control had mocked him on the knife’s-edge of minemineMINE and Derek had thrown himself back out of the window so that he wouldn’t take.claim... keep.
Unfortunately for him, Derek couldn’t stop seeing Stiles spread out in front of him, his body twisting, the thick scent of come and sweat in the air. It made him hard every time he thought about it, and he practically thought about it every time he breathed.
Once Derek had gotten some tremulous control on his wolf, he had gone back.
But Stiles had been gone.
***
Stiles was still not back two days later. Texts were ignored. Derek could feel the moon, and proved to himself that he was in control by not shifting. It wasn’t the first pack gathering without Stiles and Allison, but it was the first that the two’s absence had been so painfully obvious. Scott had been dancing around something all day, practically whining with nervousness, and Derek wanted to tell him just to spit it the fuck out... but.
He was Alpha. He was a wolf, and he was in control. even when he heard the sound of his name on Stiles’ lips, pleading and desperate. Even when he remembered the slickness of his skin, the way his hands grasped his cock, the way his thighs trembled a little as he arched up from the bed.
Derek got up and prowled around the room. Erica and Isaac were curled up on the couch. Boyd just sat calmly in the middle of the room, doing some kind of breathing technique. Scott was fiddling with his phone, frowning down at it. Derek wanted Stiles here. And the girl. She was an extension of Scott, and Stiles was an extension of.... Where was he?
“Derek?”
His voice hadn’t been entirely human when he’d responded.
“Look, there’s something that I really need to tell--”
Derek’s phone rang.
Stiles had programed in Sexy Back to play as his ringtone. Derek told the rest of the pack that he couldn’t be bothered to change it, but the truth was that it made him smirk a little whenever he heard it.
Derek was over back on his side of the room before any of them could blink.
“Derek....”
Every single head in the room looked up at him as he clutched the phone. Stiles sounded like death. Scott was by his side in an instant, but he knew better than to try to grab the phone, although it was plainly obvious that he wanted to.
“Stiles? What the fuck?” Derek was shocked at the desperation in his own voice. His wolf that was so close to the surface snarled.
“Dead. Gonna... sick”
Derek felt his eyes bleed to red, felt his canines elongate. His nails were in the wall before he could even think about it, slicing through the sturdy wood like a hot knife through butter. He growled, his voice seemingly ripped through his chest. There was the sound of retching, of Stiles’ weak whimpers, as though he was too exhausted to move. Derek’s voice was almost human when he yelled into the phone, like if he just spoke up Stiles would miraculously be able to respond. “Stiles! Where? Tell me where you are.” He heard gaps in the sound that signified a cell battery was dying. “Stiles!”
There was a thump and wet sound that absolutely terrified Derek. Before the phone disconnected, He heard three syllables that made everything in him go cold.
“I’m sorry.”
Scott had changed before Derek could move. That was human, that one second that had Derek’s hands trembling in indecision before his wolf took over.
“Stop!”
Scott snarled in defiance. Derek understood. Stiles was hurt and Stiles was pack. “You will only slow me down. We have no idea where he is.”
Boyd had jumped up and was emptying out Isaac’s messenger bag, tossing everything onto the floor. He vaulted over the couch. “Strip. You’ll need clothes when you find him. Your wallet and phone can go in here. Just don’t claw the fucking thing off while you’re looking for him, or you’ll be screwed.”
Derek quickly stripped.
“Money!” Erica bit out, and Isaac and Boyd immediately emptied their pockets. Boyd shoved everything in the bag, and zipped it.
Derek couldn’t think about how accommodating they were being. He didn’t think any of them would take this as an
opportunity to challenge him as an Alpha, but he was understandably skittish. “Scott. You won’t be able to keep up with me. You need to help keep everything together here.”
Scott whined, dropping to all fours.
“I’ll find him, Scott.”
Scott changed back, his big brown eyes filled with tears. “You promise?”
Derek just nodded, looking around at his pack. He could smell their worry, their concern for their Alpha’s well-being. Derek nodded once frantic to be gone, then shifted into his full Alpha form. The pain of bones rearranging themselves was nothing. Boyd smirked a little and set the strap of the bag around his neck. Derek growled with frustration as it slipped into place and tried running a few feet, before stopping and whining. It reeked of pack, but of the wrong packmate.
Derek did not like the strange thing around his body. He wanted to bite it, but he knew that its contents would help his mate, and that was everything that he wanted. He ran.
It felt good to run. The woods and the moon.... the moon! He howled, remembering that he must go to his mate. It was strange. His pack was in another direction. Derek paused for a moment, then bunched his muscles and ran to his mate’s den and began to track. There were lots of car-scents going and coming from the house, but the newest scent gave Derek direction.Gave him a purpose. He whined a little, tongue lolling out as he scented the air.
Caution kept him along the wood’s edge. His mate’s scent was strong on the large human-path that took away from his own pack. Pack was important. His mate... was everything.
Derek ran. He did not grow tired. He was nothing but air in lungs that were made to run, the scent of the trees and the occasional prey blurring past him as he moved. Twice he had to venture away from his mate-scent to avoid more humans. Humans were nothing, but they could interfere. They used their clever hands to poison, to maim, to kill. They had sharp teeth and claws that could hurt him. Could hurt his mate.
Once, he stopped where his mate’s scent was strong. One spot where Derek could taste his mate’s sadness, and he couldn’t help but howl in commiseration. The scent lead north, and Derek followed it. Once he came upon a human area, where they lived in his woods and hunted his prey. He did not let himself become distracted. His mate. He must find his mate.
Eventually though, Derek had to shift back to his human form. He could smell Stiles more strongly now. He came out of the woods near a motel sign and ran quickly to the end cabin. He could see Stiles’ jeep, and almost felt his heart stop at the smell of pain and sickness that wafted from it. No, not from the jeep, but from the grass in front of it. From the placement of the moon he could tell that it had a little over an hour since he had left Beacon Hills.
Oh Christ.
Derek knew that smell. He could smell the kanima, and could smell the decay of a turn that wasn’t taking.
He didn’t remember going inside the cabin. One heartbeat he was on the outside of the cabin, starring in dismay at the jeep, and within the next heartbeat he was slipping in the black decay that Stiles had expelled from his body.
He jerked, his brain flooding with memories, as he pulled Stiles into his lap. This wasn’t a wolf bite, but surely the theory was the same for another shapeshifter? His parents had once had to nurse a sick member of the pack; a human whose bite had not taken. It was similar to wolvesbane poisoning. The human body would fight to keep its humanity, throwing off any attempt to change the cells. Almost always, if the Alpha was strong enough, the wolf won. But sometimes, the human body was so contrary that it would fight, attempting to expel the intruder as it would during any other attack to its immune system.His sister had always laughed and said that there was a metaphor in there somewhere. Derek had never found it very funny.
In his parents’ case, the human had not been strong enough. He had died in pain so strong that at the end they had killed him to stop his agony.
Derek’s nose was almost bombarded by the stench of sickness and decay. He made himself shut that part of himself off, and gently turned Stiles over. The mark of the kanima was oozing a black, tarry substance that caused Stiles’ skin to redden as it touched him. Derek took a quick breath and sliced the bloated skin at the back of Stiles’ neck, wincing at the spray of decay that arced up and over his own thigh. He moved Stiles to the bathtub, placing him in there as gently as he could, letting the wound drain. Derek whined a little in the back of his throat, absently grabbing a towel to clean Stiles’ face. When he heard himself, he stopped.
Stiles’ eyes fluttered, but he passed out again before Derek could speak to him.
It seemed like forever before there was good, clean blood mixed in with the endless stream of foul-smelling death. Derek turned on the cold water and cleaned the tub as best he could. Fortunately, everything went down the drain, but they were both filthy. Derek knew that with his parents’ human, they had had to lance the foul bites several times, like a boil.
Derek didn’t have any medicines with him. He refused to leave Stiles, even for a minute to go get anything. Besides, what could human medicine do for a shapeshifter’s bite? Derek stood and grabbed all of the soaps and shampoo, along with Stiles’ own toothpaste and toothbrush.
Derek climbed into the tub behind Stiles, filling the large, oversized tub with water that seemed tepid to his own body heat, but sent Stiles’ pale skin rosy pink. He washed Stiles’ body, cleaned him, turning his body over so that he rested on top of Derek, his face nestled in the space between Derek’s shoulder and his neck. He brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth before plugging the drain and letting the tub continue to fill with water.
Tentatively, Derek licked at the wound. He could taste the kanima, and it revolted him. It just seemed so... wrong. Anathema that Stiles would not be of his own pack. Derek could still hear Stiles’ heartbeat, and took comfort in feeling his breathing. He was afraid to allow the wound to close. His saliva would do that, would seek to heal Stiles as he had done once before.
“Mmm?”
Derek’s heart skipped a beat.
“Derek?” He buried his nose deeper in Derek’s chest. “You’re real?”
Derek couldn’t have stopped the relieves smile for anything. “Yeah. You’re sick. Your body is fighting off---”
“Y’think... a wolfbite would ...make it go away?”
Derek became very, very still. His human side screamed at him, but his wolf just heard his mate asking to be pack. He had to physically make himself unclench his hand from the side of the tub. Derek opened his mouth to respond, but could tell by Stiles’ breathing that he had passed out again, saving him from a reply.
They floated there in the warm water, until Stiles began to shiver. Derek stood and took him to the bed, pulling off the comforter and wrapping Stiles in it. He set him gently on the bed, then looked around the room.
There was only a small area of sickness near the front door. Now Derek could scent the blood there and frowned, imagining that Stiles had knocked himself out and had lay there for god knew how long.
The bathroom was the worst part. Derek could clean it. He would have to. Stiles could be out for hours, or for minutes. He would need to continue to clean the wound, and the water seemed to draw out the sickness better than just hanging him over the side. Derek bit his lip as he thought, indecisive.
He went outside, to get Isaac’s messenger bag.
A pimple-faced kid wearing a polo shirt with the motel’s logo stood gaping at him, and it was only then that Derek realized that he was dripping wet and completely naked.
“Uh... I... Good evening, sir.”
“Can you get me towels? A lot of towels. And soaps and maybe another set of sheets? Another blanket? The kid stared at him. The smell of desire that wafted off of him made Derek furious, but he could work with what he was given. He took a step closer. Forced a smile. “I would really appreciate it.”
The kid’s eyes bugged. “Sure!” He turned back towards the office.
“Wait.” Derek dug inside the bag and pulled out two fifties. “How much is a night here?”
“Thirty-f-five ninety-eight.”
“Great. Give me two nights. I’ll be staying here. And a lot of towels and blankets and stuff.” Derek forced his cheesy smile to turn a little wicked. “I won’t be leaving him for awhile. And.. keep the change.”
“R-r-riight. Of course. I’ll just be a sec.”
Derek waited a minute, the smile draining away from his face. Both his wolf and the human part of him was disgusted at the way he’d spoken. Derek would prefer that that asshat didn’t know of Stiles’ existence. Derek had pulled on his boxers and his t-shirt by the time the worker returned. The kid winked and gave him the large pile of towels and bedclothes. Derek wanted to bite something as he jerked them out of the kid’s hands. “Thanks,” he muttered instead, closing and locking the door.
He used the old towels and the sheets that stank of Stiles’ sweat to clean up the black sickness, tossing them outside. It didn’t completely obliterate the scent, but very little would. Especially on tonight of all nights, Derek’s senses were stronger than normal.
Dawn found him seated on the side of the tub as he held Stiles up, cleaning him as the sickness leaked from his eyes, his ears, and the small tear of skin on the back of his neck. Derek was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. He lost count of all the times he would clean Stiles, wash him. Stiles would wake just enough to see that Derek was there, then would pass out again, lost to nightmares and sickness.
More hours passed. Derek refused to stop, cleaning when Stiles was still, holding him when he shook with the fever or the tremors of his muscles adjusting to being wholly human. Finally, just as the sun set, Stiles muttered sharply and fell into a real sleep. It had been several hours since the decay of the kanima’s bite had bled that sick blackness. Derek didn’t know if that meant Stiles was better or not. His heartbeat was steadier. So was his breathing. He began to smell like Stiles again. He stripped the sheets one last time and dressed Stiles in a pair of pajama pants, knowing that if (when!) he woke up Stiles would not want to be naked. The blankets were shot, filthy and reeking.
Derek saw little goosebumps on Stiles’ skin, and only struggled for a minute before he shifted again to his Alpha form, approaching the bed somewhat warily. His mate slept. His mate was not well yet, but he... slept. The too-slow beat of his mate’s heart was comforting, filling the room until that was all he heard.
Derek curled up around Stiles, his front to Stiles’ back, touching him with as much of his body as he could. His wolf grumbled a bit at the uncomfortable position, but eventually the sound of his mate’s breathing lulled him to sleep.
Now that he was safe.
Previous || Next
Fandom: Teenwolf (shame. I have none.)
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 5550, 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.
Stiles ran out of gas somewhere near Eugene. He had almost lost it once when he saw the dark signs for Wolfy Creek Park, but held it in by biting his lip until he tasted blood. Stiles coasted onto the side of the road and frowned up at the dark sky. He finally let himself break down, burying his face in his hoodie as he cried. He felt like a complete and utter reject, but he’d managed to hold it inside for for the three and a half hours that he’d been driving, and was kind of proud of himself for not wrecking the damn jeep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Derek, and knew, knew that wherever Derek was right now, he was either disgusted or laughing. Or homicidally pissed off. Or some weird Alpha version of all three. Of course he would be. He already couldn’t stand Stiles. He’d already had to deal with him: his mouth and his spazz and his sarcasm, and let’s face it. Derek Hale really wasn’t the kind of guy to take kindly to some dumb kid jerking off over him.
Stiles had seen how the other players on the team treated Danny when he wasn’t looking. Or when Jackson wasn’t watching out for him. It completely helped that the both of them were built like a brick shithouse and Stiles... well. He was pretty good at math. No one called Danny names to his face, but behind his back... people were pretty shitty. Maybe that’s why he’d kept his “curiosity” to himself, instead of admitting what he wanted.
Or who.
Derek was obviously not into guys. All Stiles needed to check that little fact was to look at how he let Erica... let Erica do whatever she wanted. Hell, he’d wanted her so badly that he’d turned her. She was part of the pack.
And Stiles? Stiles was not.
Stiles wiped his nose with the back of his hand, moaning a little at the remembered embarrassment. Of all people that could have gotten an eyeful... did it have to be Derek? Stiles felt sick as his mind’s eye pictured exactly what Derek must have seen. Him, with his fucking legs spread wide--- no. He couldn’t do this.
Stiles slammed his hands on the steering wheel. He scrubbed his face then dug in his backpack for his wallet, huffing a little bit as he got his breathing back under control. Of course now, he felt completely sick to his stomach, and his eyes were swollen. Fucking awesome.
Stiles knew that he couldn’t stay away for forever. He wasn’t stupid, and he refused to act like he was some dumb heroine on an Mtv after-school special. But ... some distance was good. For right now. Stiles knew he had only about a hundred bucks on him anyway, so it wasn’t like he could just disappear. Stiles sighed and hitched his red hoodie tighter around him. There had to be a gas station somewhere. He got his gas can out of the back and grabbed his phone, locking his jeep and heading towards the small town. He frowned. Shit. he should have brought his charger. Great. He was going to end up like some statistic... lost in the woods with no phone battery...
As if to punctuate the thought, Stiles heard a coyote howl, echoing through the quiet night.
“Fuck my life. Seriously.”
As he walked, he could see that the moon was almost full. Two days from now. Well, maybe all the pack shit would make Derek forget about him. Stiles snorted. Yeah, right.He could see lights in the distance, and was grateful. He was pretty tired. His vision was at times blurry and so clear that he had to blink a couple of times, wondering if he’d just walked through a foggy patch and not realized it.
It wasn’t very hard to find a gas station. The walk back was exhausting, and by the time he got there he seriously thought about just sleeping in his jeep. Stiles opened up his laptop to check for hotels in the area. When he came across the email from the Professor, the idea had made him forget a little of his misery. That’s it! He could be useful. Use this as his excuse for leaving. Stiles checked the reviews on a hotel near the the college, but stopped when he saw ‘cheap’ and ‘out of the way.’ That was good enough.
The place was definitely out of the way. He’d had to use the GPS on his phone to get there, and the result was an old-fashioned motel. It looked a little worn, but perfectly fine. Stiles smiled, the action feeling weird on his face. Less Norman Bates, and more Cozy Cone. Instead of a string of rooms all connected to each other, the small motel took advantage of the woodsy clientele that came this way to hike in Tilamook or Cape Lookout. It was set almost in the woods, with little courtyards facing the line of trees. The night clerk barely blinked as Stiles paid for three nights. He didn’t even ask for a license, giving him a smirk and a once-over. Stiles had to roll his eyes. He wasn’t sure what the guy was thinking, but he was pretty sure that it involved meeting someone for wild monkey sex. When Stiles asked for one of the cabins that was the furthest away, the smirk just got sharper. That left him 20 bucks for food. Well, he wasn’t all that hungry anyway. He made his way to his cabin on auto-pilot.
The room was small, but looked amazing to his exhausted eyes. The bed was kind of on the small side. The bathroom was nice, and obviously newly redone with an oversized bathtub. Stiles washed his face, not meeting his eyes in the mirror. He made himself take a quick shower, more to wash the dried and flaky come off himself before he slept.
The bed felt perfect as he stretched out. The mattress was ridiculously fluffy, and Stiles felt surrounded by awesome as he punched the pillow into shape. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling his chest and his throat tighten up again as his mind wandered over to a few hours ago. It was already almost daylight and he craved sleep. “No... not gonna do this again. It’s stupid.” It was. Stupid and useless.
It took awhile for him to fall asleep.
***
When Stiles woke up he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. He fumbled for his phone and texted his dad. Stiles
was too ashamed to admit how much he wanted to hear his voice, but usually at those type of conference things he couldn’t talk anyway, so it was easy to talk himself out of it. He found a couple of Advil in the bottom of his backpack and dry-swallowed them, gagging a little. Before he could chicken out, Stiles emailed the professor and told him that he was in town, but had to leave the day after tomorrow. He shivered, then got up to turn off the air-conditioning. His skin was cold and clammy. The bug he’d been fighting had come up on him with a vengeance.
His phone chirped and he frowned down at a message from Lydia.
so.. what’s up? Want to meet for coffee?”
He texted back:
No. Can’t, sorry. I had to go out of town for a few days. Maybe when I get back?
Stiles saw that he had two missed texts and cringed. The text from Derek made him freeze.
We need to talk.
No.nono the fuck no we do not. need to talk. Stiles deleted it, rather savagely. He ignored that message and saw one from earlier that morning from Scott.
Hey! Hope everything worked out with your dad. I trust him, man. I’m going to tell Derek what I did. I don’t feel right lying to him about it.
Stiles’ eyes bugged.
ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY???
He sucked his teeth and crazily, found himself laughing. Jesus. Jesus Scott was going to fucking get him killed. He’d known it since the first time his best friend thrown Stiles into a wall. Derek was going to know, and ....
Fuck it. Stiles knew that he should get up, should find something productive to do, but he was too tired. He just wanted to sleep. Leaving his Mac plugged in so that he’d hear his email notification, Stiles rolled over and fell back asleep, almost at once.
When he woke up the second time, he had four missed texts and an email from Professor Levitt.
To: stiles_the_still@hotmail.com
From: Thomas.Levitt@orr.com
Re: Re: Research Project
How fortuitous! I look forward to meeting with you. There is a small campus coffee shop that would be quite convenient for me, as i have a break between classes. I’m afraid that I am busy in the afternoon. Are you by chance free at 10:00 am? The coffee shop is called “The Beanie”, on Ulysses and Hawthorne.
Thomas. Levitt, Professor of Biology and Endangered Species, .M.S. PhD.
Stiles groaned, his mouth like cotton. He glanced at the clock on his computer and was shocked to see that it was almost 6:30 in the evening. Shit. It was already 6:30! How fucking long had he slept? He staggered to the bathroom and cupped some water into his hand, drinking gratefully. He had to pee and winced when he went. His bladder felt swollen and sore, like he’d been kicked. His eyes also looked like he had been punched, with big circles under his eyes. Stiles drank some more water and walked back to his bed, emailing the professor back.
To: Thomas.Levitt@orr.com
From: stiles_the_still@hotmail.com
Re: Re: Re: Research Project
Professor Levitt.,
Thanks! I appreciate that. I will see you then.
Stiles Stillinski
He shut the computer, making a mental note to google directions later.
The first message was from Lydia:
Look forward to it. :) See you then.
The second was from Scott:
wtf. Derek is looking for you. Where RU?
The other two were from Derek.
Stiles.
Ignoring me is a mistake. Call me.
“Yeah, well tough shit.” His voice was croaky and tired, came out sounding whiny and petulant. “You can fuck right off. Nooo thanks. Not going there.” Stiles whispered, “I can’t.” and went to go take a shower. He was covered in a clammy sweat and felt disgusting. Maybe he’d feel better with a shower. And he needed some damn DayQuil or something. He hated being sick. He fell back into bed with a groan.
***
‘Mr. Stillinski?”
The voice was smooth and pleasant, with a small lisp on the ‘s’ in his name. He was wearing jeans, loafers, and an honest-to-God tweed jacket. Professor Levitt had to be at least in his late 60’s, with a balding head and large, faintly watery eyes.
Stiles smiled weakly. His stomach was jumping around like that time he and Scott had a race to see who could eat all the Halloween candy the quickest. Stiles had won in six minutes, twenty-three seconds. “Yes. Hello.” Stiles reached up to shake the older man’s hand, but was surprised when instead of the heavy handshake that the pleasant smile implied, the older man stepped back rather abruptly with a flickering look on his face.
“Ah, we can sit right here. Do you want anything to drink?”
Stiles was a little weirded out. The Professor’s smile was overbright, and his voice was weirdly loud, like a phone that was on the wrong volume setting. he winced, and the professor’s gaze sharpened.
“No. Thanks.” Stiles smiled wanly. “I would like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind, sir. You indicated before that you know what the Kanima is. What can you tell me?” His throat still hurt. His ears felt weird; he could hear clearly then it felt like they were packed in cotton.
The professor leaned forward, his nostrils flaring just slightly and all at once Stiles understood exactly who it was that he was speaking to. As if agreeing, the professor’s eyes flicked once, pupils cold and reptilian, the retinas the sick yellow Stiles still saw in his nightmares. His own eyes widened, heartbeat tripping over itself.
“I can tell you quite a lot.” The older man smirked. Stiles’ feeling of wrongness made him shift back in his seat, uncomfortable now.
“Okay.. the toxin. What’s that all about? Does the kanima have a pack? What makes...”
The professor held up his hand.
“The Kanima are not intrinsically pack creatures. They tend to pair up rather than look for a group.”
“How do they chose?”
“Hm. Depends. We are tied to the moon, but each kanima has its own... power. They are able to shift whenever they need to. Whenever they feel threatened, or feel that their mate has been threatened.”
“Mate?”
The waitress gave Stiles a very strange look, then huffed, rolling her eyes when they waved her off, muttering under her breath about assholes who just took up space meant for customers.
“Not always a mate for ... procreation. Mates can be companions, friends. In fact, frequently are.”
“How do they.. uh. make other Kanimas?”
“They generally do not. Freshly turned bulls are kept away from humans until they are more in control. Occasionally though, mistakes happen. To answer your question, we turn our mates by a marking them at the cervical vertebrae.” He paused. “The top of the spine. The toxin... excuse my rudeness, but are you quite well?”
Stiles felt black spots take over his vision. He heard his voice as though through a long tunnel. “With intent? Derek said Alpha wolves have to have intent to turn...”
The effect of his words was like a slap to the face. The brief concern disappeared off of his face. The older man jumped up, practically reeking of fear. The bitter smell was like a dark flavor on his tongue. Stiles felt bile climb into his throat.
“Alphas? You’re from Beacon Hills? Derek Hale’s pack?” Levitt’s voice was a furious, terrified whisper. He actually looked around as though he expected Derek to jump out of a frappachino. “Oh dear God.” The professor threw some money on the table and turned, obviously searching for someone. “You must tell him that I meant no harm. No insult.”
Stiles was feeling lightheaded. He was having trouble following all of the conversation. Panic was bleeding through his brain. My neck oh god no the neck through the neck Jesus fucking Christ no. What Levitt was saying wasn’t making sense.
“I knew you smelled like wolf. I...” The professor reached out his hand, and Stiles saw a petite woman clutch at his it obviously picking up on his fear. She turned huge, terrified doe eyes to Stiles who blinked the stinging sweat out of his own eyes, desperately trying to focus. “Please. Please, I never would have asked you to come here if I...”
“Wait,” Stiles wasn’t sure if he spoke or not. The professor and his lady mate. that’s his mate, he came here with his mate his mind helpfully babbled, left quickly, leaving Stiles alone in the coffee shop, the patrons looking at him like he was dangerous. Or deranged. Stiles felt both.
“Uh. Sorry.” Stiles stood, his knees shaky. He wasn’t sure if it was shock, or if it was the fact some fucking monster had turned him into Godzilla. He wanted to go back to his motel room. Getting behind the wheel of his jeep was an exercise in patience. Stiles made himself focus. He made himself shift, then drive. He kept himself from panicking by concentrating on tiny, small tasks. The motel wasn’t far, but to Stiles it felt like years before he made it there. He vomited once, outside of his jeep. That scared him more than anything, because it was the deep black ichor that Derek had had when poisoned.
His heartbeat was like some small, frightened thing, trapped in his throat. He knew that he was scared. God, was he scared. He had the crazy thought that if he could just get inside... he’d be okay.
Stiles got up and staggered to unlock the door, tripping and barking his cheekbone on the doorjam before falling down onto his hands and knees. He couldn’t breathe. The spots in front of his eyes were now huge floating dots, dots that turned into claws and teeth that came for him. His whole body was convulsing, muscles seizing up as he writhed on the carpet. It brushed against skin that felt too sensitive; like the buzz of an electric shock right beneath the surface. Stiles was seeing things, was scared that what he thought he saw wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
His brain just gave up. Maybe it was protecting him. Maybe he was just unlucky. When Stiles woke up again, it was almost full dark. He knew at once that the moon had not yet risen.
Stiles gagged, forcing himself to the bathroom where he got sick again, clutching the toilet, his sweaty hands sliding right down the porcelain bowl and onto the floor. He thought of his dad, about how much he worried about him, about how he’d been shocked and not-shocked at learning about the wolves in sheep’s clothing that ran amok in his small town. He thought of Scott, of Lydia and fear for her spiked more adrenaline through his system, which rebelled as weak bile spewed from his throat. He lay shaking, panting on the floor, hoping that she wasn’t going through this but knowing that of course she had to be.
Stiles thought of Derek, and even as sick as he was he wanted to apologize, to show his throat so that Derek would let him in; would let him belong with the rest.
“Derek....”
Everything in him desperately needed him, wanted him to keep Stiles safe, to make this stop.
“Stiles? What the fuck?”
And Stiles laughed at the way his mind conjured Derek up, like he was actually in the bathroom with him. His voice almost sounded real. Stiles could almost feel that burning gaze on him, but knew he was alone, right? He could only smell himself, sick and broken. Dying.
“Dead. Gonna... sick” And he was. The black stuff this time, which burned his throat. It made him cry out as he retched, only he could only whimper.
Derek’s growl made him cringe. “Stiles! Where? Tell me where you are. Stiles!”
The beeps of the dead battery were loud in his ears. It made him flinch away from his phone. His body convulsed again and his phone landed with a wet splat in the muck. Stiles hadn’t realized that he had even called Derek. He’d thought Derek was here with him, and for a second the crushing realization that no, he really was all alone, that he was going to die like this with no one to help him, no one to care hurt. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not. If he was really talking or if he was imagining it. He whispered it anyway. Or thought he did.
“...I’m sorry..”
Two more beeps, and his phone went dead.
Stiles collapsed, unconscious.
***
The problem, Derek reflected, with being an Alpha, was that everyone seemed to expect that he always knew what the fuck he was doing. Even when he didn’t. As a Beta, he could fuck up. Laura was his leader, his pack, his friend. They’d been together almost since birth. Laura had been only one year older, but even back then she’d been focused. Driven.
Pack was everything, Derek. Protect the pack.
And everything she’d done was to do that.
Derek wanted to roll his eyes. Here he was, stuck in a vehicle with the three newest members of his pack. Erica stared out the window, completely bored, stretching her gum out, over and over.
Isaac had his earbuds on as low as they would go, but that was still pretty damn loud. Derek could hear every single word. He wanted to bite something. He didn’t begrudge Isaac the whole educational experience. If Isaac wanted to read, great. Reading was at least quiet. But the audiobook? Fuck. Derek was stuck hearing exactly what Bella and Edward were up to. He didn’t know when dawn was going to break, but he hoped it was pretty fucking soon.
Boyd was driving. Boyd, he liked. Boyd was quiet. He didn’t argue. He could handle himself in a fight. He’d been sick from some human illness that was killing off his innards, but Derek’s bite had changed all that. He accepted the gift, and was completely and utterly loyal to whatever Derek wanted him to do.
Erica whined a little in the back of her throat. “Are we there yet?”
Fucking puppies.
Still, Derek could agree with her. He wanted to be back in Beacon Hills. His base. His home.
His pack.
Stiles.
He frowned, looking down at his phone. Stiles had texted him yesterday, and Derek still hadn’t responded. He wasn’t sure what to say, to be honest. He couldn’t help the bass growl low in his throat. All three of his wolves sat up. Isaac took the earbud out of his ear and looked around wildly.
Erica met his gaze in the mirror and looked away, shrinking lower in her seat. Hours ago, when Derek had asked her with complete calm about Stiles’ text, She’d laughed. His wolf hadn’t cared for that much at all.
“Figures the little bitch would tattle on me. You said to make sure he didn’t stick his nose in. I just made sure of that.”
Guilt had swam sickly in his gut. True as far as it went, but imagining Stiles bruised.... Erica had just laughed when Derek had slammed her up against the wall, locking her legs around him with a feral grin. When Derek had gone for her throat she had looked up at him, completely shocked, blood fountaining from the teeth marks in her long, white throat.
“Do not mark him again.”
He had been careful to not kill her, but had torn her throat out slowly, so that she could heal. Erica on her knees, trying to bend to show her belly and throat had filled him with a twisted little feeling of rightness. He wondered if his uncle had ever felt the same when he disciplined Derek for acting out. Of course that was before he’d gone completely and utterly batshit insane. Derek had blinked, ignoring Erica’s little whine, and had turned away.
Boyd and Isaac had looked on but had waited until Derek had turned diffidently away before going to help their packmate. On the plus side, Erica hadn’t gone near him, hadn’t flirted, hadn’t even looked at him with anything but respect.
Being an Alpha had a bit of a learning curve. He’d known there would be a certain settling-in period. That’s what Laura had called it. Her temper had boiled over more often than not; she’d been overly aggressive and moody. So Derek knew what to expect, but... didn’t really have the first-hand knowledge of how it would end up affecting him.
“So who do you think it is?” Boyd’s deep voice jarred Derek out of his thoughts.
Derek shrugged with one twitch of his shoulder. In his mind’s eye he could see that... girl curled up with Stiles, asleep in his bed. His wolf growled deeply, and Derek had to work to suppress the jealousy before he shifted in the middle of the fucking car. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to go to just... check... that she wasn’t in Stiles’ bed anymore. Derek fought the desire to whip out his dick and just piss in a circle around Stiles’ house. Or his bedroom. Or fuck... his bed.
After Stiles has been taken in by the toxin, Derek had found himself staying with Stiles the whole night, watching the younger man sleep, feeling both sickened by his regard and calmed by watching. His wolf and his human side, a constant struggle for dominance. Sometimes his human side seemed very far away. Stiles had been sprawled in his bed, sliding from the toxin’s paralysis to true, real sleep within a heartbeat. He’d muttered a little in his sleep (It truly came as no surprise that Stiles couldn’t stop talking: even in sleep) and Derek had slowly allowed himself to relax, allowed himself to mark him with his scent again, rumbling a little at the way their combined scents mingled together with something that called to him. Something like home and comfort and mate .
Then to have Stiles wake up with another name on his lips? Oh, he’d been furious.
“It is either Jackson or Lydia. Both have unexplained incidents that I would like explained.” He would capture Jackson first, but Derek knew in his heart that he would be pleased to kill the girl.
“What are we gonna do about them?” Isaac sounded pitifully excited. Derek hid a small smirk. Puppies were always excited. It was just their nature.
“We wait. After the full moon, we will ... discuss things with the two of them.” Derek saw again her hair tangled on Stiles’ pillow, her hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He wanted to feel ridiculous that he was so jealous of a high school girl, but his wolf wouldn’t let him. It just growled, paced within him, wanted to... bite. To take out his competition with one quick snap of his teeth.
Boyd pulled into the warehouse and the three of them got out. Derek hadn’t really questioned why he didn’t really allow the three of them at his home, and instead conducted pack business here. He had contractors coming out to gut the parts of his home that were unlivable, and Derek planned to rebuild the rest. He’d been lucky. One of the guest bedrooms, and most of the kitchen had been untouched by the fire. It seemed ironic that that had been where they’d found...
Derek swallowed, hard, slid over to the driver’s seat, and driven to Stiles’ house to find out what Stiles had wanted to discuss.
And then?
Derek had heard him before he saw him. The wolf had snarled. The Alpha had gnashed his teeth at the idea of interrupting the two of them together, and Derek had been on the roof and looking in the window before he’d realized that there was only one scent. He must have made some sound in his shock, because Stiles turned, his lust-fogged eyes meeting Derek’s, and Derek had felt poleaxed. He could barely control himself. The wolf wanted. He’d heard himself speak Stiles’ name, had watched, mouth watering as Stiles had come all over himself, had shifted forward just the slightest bit to taste and suck and mark all of the skin in front of him... and had frozen, terrified.
The wolf wanted... but Derek wasn’t only the wolf. He could control himself.
Laughable.
His control had mocked him on the knife’s-edge of minemineMINE and Derek had thrown himself back out of the window so that he wouldn’t take.claim... keep.
Unfortunately for him, Derek couldn’t stop seeing Stiles spread out in front of him, his body twisting, the thick scent of come and sweat in the air. It made him hard every time he thought about it, and he practically thought about it every time he breathed.
Once Derek had gotten some tremulous control on his wolf, he had gone back.
But Stiles had been gone.
***
Stiles was still not back two days later. Texts were ignored. Derek could feel the moon, and proved to himself that he was in control by not shifting. It wasn’t the first pack gathering without Stiles and Allison, but it was the first that the two’s absence had been so painfully obvious. Scott had been dancing around something all day, practically whining with nervousness, and Derek wanted to tell him just to spit it the fuck out... but.
He was Alpha. He was a wolf, and he was in control. even when he heard the sound of his name on Stiles’ lips, pleading and desperate. Even when he remembered the slickness of his skin, the way his hands grasped his cock, the way his thighs trembled a little as he arched up from the bed.
Derek got up and prowled around the room. Erica and Isaac were curled up on the couch. Boyd just sat calmly in the middle of the room, doing some kind of breathing technique. Scott was fiddling with his phone, frowning down at it. Derek wanted Stiles here. And the girl. She was an extension of Scott, and Stiles was an extension of.... Where was he?
“Derek?”
His voice hadn’t been entirely human when he’d responded.
“Look, there’s something that I really need to tell--”
Derek’s phone rang.
Stiles had programed in Sexy Back to play as his ringtone. Derek told the rest of the pack that he couldn’t be bothered to change it, but the truth was that it made him smirk a little whenever he heard it.
Derek was over back on his side of the room before any of them could blink.
“Derek....”
Every single head in the room looked up at him as he clutched the phone. Stiles sounded like death. Scott was by his side in an instant, but he knew better than to try to grab the phone, although it was plainly obvious that he wanted to.
“Stiles? What the fuck?” Derek was shocked at the desperation in his own voice. His wolf that was so close to the surface snarled.
“Dead. Gonna... sick”
Derek felt his eyes bleed to red, felt his canines elongate. His nails were in the wall before he could even think about it, slicing through the sturdy wood like a hot knife through butter. He growled, his voice seemingly ripped through his chest. There was the sound of retching, of Stiles’ weak whimpers, as though he was too exhausted to move. Derek’s voice was almost human when he yelled into the phone, like if he just spoke up Stiles would miraculously be able to respond. “Stiles! Where? Tell me where you are.” He heard gaps in the sound that signified a cell battery was dying. “Stiles!”
There was a thump and wet sound that absolutely terrified Derek. Before the phone disconnected, He heard three syllables that made everything in him go cold.
“I’m sorry.”
Scott had changed before Derek could move. That was human, that one second that had Derek’s hands trembling in indecision before his wolf took over.
“Stop!”
Scott snarled in defiance. Derek understood. Stiles was hurt and Stiles was pack. “You will only slow me down. We have no idea where he is.”
Boyd had jumped up and was emptying out Isaac’s messenger bag, tossing everything onto the floor. He vaulted over the couch. “Strip. You’ll need clothes when you find him. Your wallet and phone can go in here. Just don’t claw the fucking thing off while you’re looking for him, or you’ll be screwed.”
Derek quickly stripped.
“Money!” Erica bit out, and Isaac and Boyd immediately emptied their pockets. Boyd shoved everything in the bag, and zipped it.
Derek couldn’t think about how accommodating they were being. He didn’t think any of them would take this as an
opportunity to challenge him as an Alpha, but he was understandably skittish. “Scott. You won’t be able to keep up with me. You need to help keep everything together here.”
Scott whined, dropping to all fours.
“I’ll find him, Scott.”
Scott changed back, his big brown eyes filled with tears. “You promise?”
Derek just nodded, looking around at his pack. He could smell their worry, their concern for their Alpha’s well-being. Derek nodded once frantic to be gone, then shifted into his full Alpha form. The pain of bones rearranging themselves was nothing. Boyd smirked a little and set the strap of the bag around his neck. Derek growled with frustration as it slipped into place and tried running a few feet, before stopping and whining. It reeked of pack, but of the wrong packmate.
Derek did not like the strange thing around his body. He wanted to bite it, but he knew that its contents would help his mate, and that was everything that he wanted. He ran.
It felt good to run. The woods and the moon.... the moon! He howled, remembering that he must go to his mate. It was strange. His pack was in another direction. Derek paused for a moment, then bunched his muscles and ran to his mate’s den and began to track. There were lots of car-scents going and coming from the house, but the newest scent gave Derek direction.Gave him a purpose. He whined a little, tongue lolling out as he scented the air.
Caution kept him along the wood’s edge. His mate’s scent was strong on the large human-path that took away from his own pack. Pack was important. His mate... was everything.
Derek ran. He did not grow tired. He was nothing but air in lungs that were made to run, the scent of the trees and the occasional prey blurring past him as he moved. Twice he had to venture away from his mate-scent to avoid more humans. Humans were nothing, but they could interfere. They used their clever hands to poison, to maim, to kill. They had sharp teeth and claws that could hurt him. Could hurt his mate.
Once, he stopped where his mate’s scent was strong. One spot where Derek could taste his mate’s sadness, and he couldn’t help but howl in commiseration. The scent lead north, and Derek followed it. Once he came upon a human area, where they lived in his woods and hunted his prey. He did not let himself become distracted. His mate. He must find his mate.
Eventually though, Derek had to shift back to his human form. He could smell Stiles more strongly now. He came out of the woods near a motel sign and ran quickly to the end cabin. He could see Stiles’ jeep, and almost felt his heart stop at the smell of pain and sickness that wafted from it. No, not from the jeep, but from the grass in front of it. From the placement of the moon he could tell that it had a little over an hour since he had left Beacon Hills.
Oh Christ.
Derek knew that smell. He could smell the kanima, and could smell the decay of a turn that wasn’t taking.
He didn’t remember going inside the cabin. One heartbeat he was on the outside of the cabin, starring in dismay at the jeep, and within the next heartbeat he was slipping in the black decay that Stiles had expelled from his body.
He jerked, his brain flooding with memories, as he pulled Stiles into his lap. This wasn’t a wolf bite, but surely the theory was the same for another shapeshifter? His parents had once had to nurse a sick member of the pack; a human whose bite had not taken. It was similar to wolvesbane poisoning. The human body would fight to keep its humanity, throwing off any attempt to change the cells. Almost always, if the Alpha was strong enough, the wolf won. But sometimes, the human body was so contrary that it would fight, attempting to expel the intruder as it would during any other attack to its immune system.His sister had always laughed and said that there was a metaphor in there somewhere. Derek had never found it very funny.
In his parents’ case, the human had not been strong enough. He had died in pain so strong that at the end they had killed him to stop his agony.
Derek’s nose was almost bombarded by the stench of sickness and decay. He made himself shut that part of himself off, and gently turned Stiles over. The mark of the kanima was oozing a black, tarry substance that caused Stiles’ skin to redden as it touched him. Derek took a quick breath and sliced the bloated skin at the back of Stiles’ neck, wincing at the spray of decay that arced up and over his own thigh. He moved Stiles to the bathtub, placing him in there as gently as he could, letting the wound drain. Derek whined a little in the back of his throat, absently grabbing a towel to clean Stiles’ face. When he heard himself, he stopped.
Stiles’ eyes fluttered, but he passed out again before Derek could speak to him.
It seemed like forever before there was good, clean blood mixed in with the endless stream of foul-smelling death. Derek turned on the cold water and cleaned the tub as best he could. Fortunately, everything went down the drain, but they were both filthy. Derek knew that with his parents’ human, they had had to lance the foul bites several times, like a boil.
Derek didn’t have any medicines with him. He refused to leave Stiles, even for a minute to go get anything. Besides, what could human medicine do for a shapeshifter’s bite? Derek stood and grabbed all of the soaps and shampoo, along with Stiles’ own toothpaste and toothbrush.
Derek climbed into the tub behind Stiles, filling the large, oversized tub with water that seemed tepid to his own body heat, but sent Stiles’ pale skin rosy pink. He washed Stiles’ body, cleaned him, turning his body over so that he rested on top of Derek, his face nestled in the space between Derek’s shoulder and his neck. He brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth before plugging the drain and letting the tub continue to fill with water.
Tentatively, Derek licked at the wound. He could taste the kanima, and it revolted him. It just seemed so... wrong. Anathema that Stiles would not be of his own pack. Derek could still hear Stiles’ heartbeat, and took comfort in feeling his breathing. He was afraid to allow the wound to close. His saliva would do that, would seek to heal Stiles as he had done once before.
“Mmm?”
Derek’s heart skipped a beat.
“Derek?” He buried his nose deeper in Derek’s chest. “You’re real?”
Derek couldn’t have stopped the relieves smile for anything. “Yeah. You’re sick. Your body is fighting off---”
“Y’think... a wolfbite would ...make it go away?”
Derek became very, very still. His human side screamed at him, but his wolf just heard his mate asking to be pack. He had to physically make himself unclench his hand from the side of the tub. Derek opened his mouth to respond, but could tell by Stiles’ breathing that he had passed out again, saving him from a reply.
They floated there in the warm water, until Stiles began to shiver. Derek stood and took him to the bed, pulling off the comforter and wrapping Stiles in it. He set him gently on the bed, then looked around the room.
There was only a small area of sickness near the front door. Now Derek could scent the blood there and frowned, imagining that Stiles had knocked himself out and had lay there for god knew how long.
The bathroom was the worst part. Derek could clean it. He would have to. Stiles could be out for hours, or for minutes. He would need to continue to clean the wound, and the water seemed to draw out the sickness better than just hanging him over the side. Derek bit his lip as he thought, indecisive.
He went outside, to get Isaac’s messenger bag.
A pimple-faced kid wearing a polo shirt with the motel’s logo stood gaping at him, and it was only then that Derek realized that he was dripping wet and completely naked.
“Uh... I... Good evening, sir.”
“Can you get me towels? A lot of towels. And soaps and maybe another set of sheets? Another blanket? The kid stared at him. The smell of desire that wafted off of him made Derek furious, but he could work with what he was given. He took a step closer. Forced a smile. “I would really appreciate it.”
The kid’s eyes bugged. “Sure!” He turned back towards the office.
“Wait.” Derek dug inside the bag and pulled out two fifties. “How much is a night here?”
“Thirty-f-five ninety-eight.”
“Great. Give me two nights. I’ll be staying here. And a lot of towels and blankets and stuff.” Derek forced his cheesy smile to turn a little wicked. “I won’t be leaving him for awhile. And.. keep the change.”
“R-r-riight. Of course. I’ll just be a sec.”
Derek waited a minute, the smile draining away from his face. Both his wolf and the human part of him was disgusted at the way he’d spoken. Derek would prefer that that asshat didn’t know of Stiles’ existence. Derek had pulled on his boxers and his t-shirt by the time the worker returned. The kid winked and gave him the large pile of towels and bedclothes. Derek wanted to bite something as he jerked them out of the kid’s hands. “Thanks,” he muttered instead, closing and locking the door.
He used the old towels and the sheets that stank of Stiles’ sweat to clean up the black sickness, tossing them outside. It didn’t completely obliterate the scent, but very little would. Especially on tonight of all nights, Derek’s senses were stronger than normal.
Dawn found him seated on the side of the tub as he held Stiles up, cleaning him as the sickness leaked from his eyes, his ears, and the small tear of skin on the back of his neck. Derek was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. He lost count of all the times he would clean Stiles, wash him. Stiles would wake just enough to see that Derek was there, then would pass out again, lost to nightmares and sickness.
More hours passed. Derek refused to stop, cleaning when Stiles was still, holding him when he shook with the fever or the tremors of his muscles adjusting to being wholly human. Finally, just as the sun set, Stiles muttered sharply and fell into a real sleep. It had been several hours since the decay of the kanima’s bite had bled that sick blackness. Derek didn’t know if that meant Stiles was better or not. His heartbeat was steadier. So was his breathing. He began to smell like Stiles again. He stripped the sheets one last time and dressed Stiles in a pair of pajama pants, knowing that if (when!) he woke up Stiles would not want to be naked. The blankets were shot, filthy and reeking.
Derek saw little goosebumps on Stiles’ skin, and only struggled for a minute before he shifted again to his Alpha form, approaching the bed somewhat warily. His mate slept. His mate was not well yet, but he... slept. The too-slow beat of his mate’s heart was comforting, filling the room until that was all he heard.
Derek curled up around Stiles, his front to Stiles’ back, touching him with as much of his body as he could. His wolf grumbled a bit at the uncomfortable position, but eventually the sound of his mate’s breathing lulled him to sleep.
Now that he was safe.
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