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Title: Nowhere Man
Fandom: Teen Wolf (Still regretting NOTHING!)
Words: (this chap) aprox 5600
Summary: When Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, he does it without a backwards glance. For two years he is happy on the other side of the country- until someone targets not only him, but his daughter.Unfortunately, the asshole bodyguard his dad hired to make sure he gets back home is none other than Derek Hale. And that's really not very good for either of them.
Warnings: Attempt at plot! Angst! Descriptions of panic attacks! alpha/omega dynamics(made up to fit this story. They're not the "typical" dynamics you find in fic)! Creepy stalker behavior! A metric fuckton of more angst! Boys being stupid! (mostly) Off-screen mpreg and ... kid!fic! This is a wip.
Anyway, this is dedicated to mah bb,

jlm121 because I love her. Beta'd by the amazing

diva0789!

Read on Ao3 || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8

This chapter has been a long time--- er. Coming. Thanks for your patience!
(Ba dum dum psh! I’ll be here all week; don’t forget to tip your waitress!)

The fire was like some colossal beast, devouring Stiles from inside out. His skin didn’t just itch. When he could think coherently, he thought it felt like dipping each body part in a pot of boiling water, with the skin collapsing from the inside out as the steam boiled his flesh alive.

He had never felt like this in his life.

The first and only time his body had been in heat, it had been more like intense, extreme horniness. Stiles had wanted Derek so much that he couldn’t focus on whether he should or shouldn’t... He craved skin on skin. When he got it, he was lost in sensation; the taste of the sweat on Derek’s skin, the feel of Derek’s fingers kissing bruises into his hips, the slick slide of Derek thrusting into him, sending conscious thought flying off into every single direction at once.

Stiles didn’t know what day it was. He didn’t remember eating, or sleeping. He could only feel the flames of his heat licking from his nerve endings out, igniting his skin in sensation. He vaguely remembered clinging to a bare remnant of control, asking Derek to take Zoe, ashamed that she might see him like this. Was that five minutes? Five days ago? God might know. Stiles didn’t have any fucking idea.

When he was able to focus his thoughts, he was terrified at himself. What if Stiles blurted out that Derek was Zoe’s father? What freaked Stiles out even more was the instinctual trust that he had for Derek. Stiles couldn’t understand how he could trust Derek to keep him and Zoe safe, yet still hate him.

Well, dislike him. Stiles couldn’t say for certain that he actually hated Derek anymore. He couldn’t even classify the emotions that that little gem of a thought brought. Even if he could spare a small part of his brain for rational thought.

The air-conditioning kicked on and Stiles jerked at the blast of cold air that shot out of the small wall unit. Even that felt too much for his over-sensitized body. He writhed on the bed, almost slipping off of the slippery sheets. He bit his already swollen lip, letting his hand drift towards his cock, before jerking it away. No. No. He could do this. He wasn’t some fucking animal- slaving to instinct. He could control himself.

Only... he couldn’t.

The trouble was, Stiles knew that if he just gave in and did it, he’d have some relief. He desperately wished that he could just... it would only take...

He couldn’t make himself stop. Stiles cried out at the hot splash of come on his fingers almost as soon as he closed his cool palm around the heat of his flesh. He felt his nipples harden as hundreds of shivers marched all over his body.Stiles arched, digging his feet into the mattress as he jerked up his hips, shoving two fingers inside of himself with a sharp twist of his wrist. The wet squelch made his lip curl where his body had made itself ready for penetration, the gland releasing a slick, slippery fluid in preparation. The low groan seemed to vibrate in Stiles’ throat. He tasted blood when he bit his lip again, his eyes rolling back in his head when he started jerking himself off, his cock still flushed purple with need despite his release moments earlier. There was nothing like finesse in the desperate, frantic tightening of his fingers, the movement of his arm.

It didn’t take him very long to come this time either. If he didn’t feel so fucked up, he’d laugh at his pathetic staying power.

Stiles sagged onto the mattress with a pained whimper. The almost electrical current that seemed to be vibrating endlessly just under the surface of his skin dissipated slightly. He could catch his breath. Stiles wiped his sticky, shaking hand on the already filthy sheets. Stiles jumped at the sound of Derek’s ringtone. He sat up with a startled gasp, looking down at himself with a grossed-out twist of his lips. There was dried come all over his stomach, with itchy, flaky patches that pulled at his hair when he tried to scritch them off with his nail.

“Fucking gross.” He stood up, wincing a little when the muscles in his thighs pulled a little from how widely he’d spread his legs. He didn’t have a robe, so he wrapped the filthy sheet around his body. When Stiles stood up he staggered, dizzy. He fell against the small bedside table and swore under his breath at his clumsiness. Shit. Stiles almost lost the sheet when he flung out an arm to catch himself. He wrinkled his nose at the slickness on his fingers.

When he opened the connecting door, Derek was seated in the chair by the bed, calmly reading a magazine. Stiles didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared, or the way Derek’s fingers tightened briefly on the pages of Knitting Weekly, but he appreciated the gesture. The attempt at normalcy. The ringtone had been too loud for it to have been across the room like that. Derek had to have been really close to the connecting door. Stiles jerked the sheet tighter around himself, flushing when he felt his body react to Derek’s presence. He felt like a tree leaning towards the sun at the way his body craved being near Derek.

“I’m just...” He broke off, staring at Zoe who was passed out in a playpen. She hadn’t used her playpen since she was about a year old- having decided that she was fine with climbing out of it monkey-style.

“I just. I didn’t think you’d want her sleeping in the bed.” Derek’s voice was easily a half-octave lower than his normal register. The unspoken With me seemed loud in the quiet room. “I bought a few things.” Derek turned a page in the magazine, still not looking up at Stiles.

Stiles darted a glance at the way he sat rigidly in the chair, then back to Zoe. “Thank you.” Stiles took a deep breath, winced when he smelled himself and made his way to the shower. To be honest, Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what he was thanking Derek for. For taking care of Zoe? For not jumping him? For trying to make this less awkward?

It was heaven to step under the hot, steamy water. Derek had also picked up some real soap, and Stiles pounced on it like a kitten with a aluminum ball, purring just about as loudly when he washed off the dried sweat and come that streaked his body. Jesus fucking Christ that felt good. When his body had the predictable reaction, Stiles didn’t even waste time feeling guilty before wrapping his fingers around his dick again.

He couldn’t stop picturing Derek behind the door of his bedroom. Had he been listening? Stiles turned so that he was facing the tile behind the faucet, the hot water beating a tattoo on his neck. His breathing quickened as he started fisting himself a little faster, lost in his head. Derek would have pressed his forehead against the door, his werewolf hearing having no trouble picking up the sounds Stiles was making in the bedroom: the wet sound of him fingering himself, the slick sound of his hand on his cock, the low moans that he couldn’t seem to help as they tore from his throat. Would Derek have been able to smell him? Would Derek have pressed his dick to the hard surface of the door, rubbing as he listened to Stiles come?

Stiles heard the muffled sound he made as his balls tightened again. He screwed his eyes shut, biting into his own forearm as he felt the orgasm begin at the base of his spine. Stiles shifted so his leg was up on the leg of the tub, pressing his own overheated cheek to the cool tile as he teased himself by rubbing his finger over his slick hole, sending sparks shooting behind his closed eyelids as that pushed him over the knife’s edge of coming.

Stiles almost lost his balance as his knees threatened to collapse. He tilted his head back and got a face full of water, groaning as he shook his head. What the fuck was that?! Besides stupid. Idiot. Thinking about Derek like that is only going to end badly.

The thing was, Stiles wasn’t fully sure that this was going to work. He’d heard other unmated Omegas talk of some seriously uncomfortable hours spent locked up in a room somewhere, while they fucked themselves to oblivion. Days. Stiles wasn’t sure if he could handle much more of this. He hated not knowing how his body was going to react. Loathed not being able to control him body’s reactions.

Stiles soaped himself down again, resolutely keeping his touch hard and as unsexy as he could manage, almost painful with his frustration at his own stupid.... instinct. Derek had called it instinct. But that seemed too pat of a copout. The last time he had done this he hadn’t been able to control himself. Sure, at the time Stiles had thought that it was just because it was his first time, and because he was with Derek, but he should have been able to know what was going on with his own body. He sighed, reaching for the shampoo bottle. The water faucet made a squeak when he turned it off, and Stiles stood there, dripping dry for a few seconds. Now that the water was off, he could hear voices outside.

What the hell?

There was no fucking way he was going back with that nasty sheet wrapped around him, so a towel would have to do. Stiles tied it tightly at his waist, lips tightening when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The towel sat just under his hipbones. He could see the almost perfect imprint of his teeth on his forearm, red and angry looking. There were raccoon circles under his eyes, but he could see that his brown gaze looked almost too aware of everything. Stiles cocked his head to the side, listening when he heard the low murmur of voices. Did Derek have the tv on too loud or something?

He opened the door and walked out into the main area of their room, only to freeze when he saw Isaac and Zoe playing together under Derek’s watchful eye.

Isaac!

Stiles couldn’t help the surprised sound he made as he started to walk forward, only to stop short as Isaac’s scent hit him like a punch to the gut.

His mouth actually watered. His brain might have been shrieking --what the fuck?!-- at him, but his body reacted without Stiles consciously deciding to move forward.

He hadn’t seen Isaac in a year and a half. Isaac hadn’t been involved in the whole bet. He hadn’t even been at Derek’s house that day. It had been one of the only reasons that Stiles had let him in his house before he left for school. Isaac had gotten there just as Stiles was loading the last load into his jeep. If Isaac had been ten minutes later, they would have missed each other. If Isaac had had a tail, it would have been between his legs. He’d flinched at the look Stiles couldn’t quite hide, then had hugged him with a desperate whine in the back of his throat. Isaac had told Stiles that it was all some kind of a mistake and he couldn’t leave because it would break all of them and please, please don’t go.

But Stiles had gone. He’d hated the stupid tears that he couldn’t choke back, known that Isaac would taste them or smell them or see them or whatever the fuck werewolves did. But he’d gone. The last glimpse of Isaac through his rear-view mirror had shown him just standing, staring forlornly after Stiles’ taillights with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking lost.

It had been late October when Isaac had met Stiles at school. The stubbornness probably shouldn’t have surprised him, but it had. Isaac had refused to leave until he bought Stiles a meal and had gotten him out of bed and dressed for the day. Stiles hadn’t really been in the mood to talk. He sure as fuck hadn’t been in the mood to reminisce. They’d had Tex-Mex, and Stiles had eaten hugely of everything, feeling human in the first time in forever. Well, until Zoe had made it known that she was not a huge fan of flautas, thank you very much, and had jumped up and down on his gut until he’d gotten sick.

Not that he’d known that at the time of course. Still, he’d had his suspicions about who had clued Lydia into her sudden and dramatic rescue. Stiles had wondered about him every once in awhile, and had thought of Isaac with bittersweet fondness.

But that didn’t explain Stiles’ reaction now. His whole body lit up like fireworks in the night sky. Stiles knew that he should be shocked at this, but the rational part of his brain had shut down as he moved forward towards Isaac. Stiles saw the ridiculously curly hair bob a little when Isaac tossed up his head, scenting the air.

“Stiles? Wh--”

Stiles had him crowded against the door, his heart thumping in time with his cock before Isaac could finish speaking. Stiles heard a low growl and felt Derek behind him,and for a second his whole body quivered at being pressed between the Beta and his Alpha but no wait he wasn’t his Alpha only he could be and he wanted him but he wasn’t supposed to want--

“Stiles.”

Stiles felt the scrape of Derek’s teeth at the very top of his spine. It made him freeze for just a moment. Stiles could smell Isaac though, could almost taste him if he just leaned forward a tiny... little... bit. The easily-ignored voice in the back of his head was pushing red buttons, shrieking at him with a bullhorn now and Stiles came back to himself with a horrified gasp, throwing himself away from Isaac and into the solid bulk of Derek’s body.

What the actual fuck?!

Derek’s arm came around him to steady him. Stiles felt like it was the only thing anchoring him from falling apart. If Derek let go, he wasn’t completely certain that he wouldn’t just shatter into a million pieces.

“Isaac.”

There wasn’t anything angry in that one word, but Isaac pushed away from them, breathing harshly a few times before purposefully walking over to Zoe who had been, thankfully, completely oblivious to the whole little drama, playing with her Tiana doll and singing softly to herself.

“Zoe is going with Isaac in a room next to ours. I’m going to get you settled in the bedroom, then I am going to join them. I won’t let anything happen to her, Stiles.” Stiles let his head drop to Derek’s arm and trembled at the restrained strength there.

“Yeah. I’m good with kids. And we can.. er.. wait to have coffee later. I guess I didn’t realize how close you were to the whole... uh. Yeah so I’m just. Going to shut up now? I promise this little princess will be fine, Stiles.” Isaac’s lips twisted slightly in an amused grin. “And for the sake of keeping my guts on the inside of my body, I’m going to forget the last two minutes of my life.”

Stiles just nodded, every single cell quivering with the need to not move. To not lean any further back into the solid, comforting heat of Derek’s body. To not rub his ass against Derek’s body like some sort of bitch in heat. The tiny part of his brain that was freaking out winced at his unfortunate comparison, but the rest of him? The rest was trying not to move.

Zoe tried to come over to hug her daddy bye, but Derek intercepted her, scooping her up and making her squeal, leaving Isaac to gather up her bag. If Stiles hadn’t been so terrified of what he’d do if he moved, he would have felt jealous. As it was, he felt lucky that he had Derek and Isaac to help him. If he’d been alone with Zoe during this....

Jesus, fuck that didn’t even bear thinking about.

Stiles didn’t know how long Derek, Isaac and Zoe were gone. It took Derek touching him lightly on the back of the neck for Stiles to jolt, flailing a bit with shock. He didn’t remember sinking down to the floor and curling up. Stiles leaned into Derek again, not caring that the other man’s muscles tensed with dislike before he awkwardly patted Stiles on the shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to the room.”

Stiles blinked bleary eyes only to focus on Derek’s collarbone. He bent forward and licked at it, sucking on the skin for just a second before Derek gasped and pushed him off. “You smell really, really good, Derek.” Stiles’ didn’t recognize his own voice. He sounded like his throat had given up on real speech and was content to just communicate with this low purr that he didn’t ever think he’d made before. “I forgot... I made. Made myself forget.” Stiles was close enough to Derek that he could see the small breakout of goosebumps on his tanned skin from the puff of his words. Stiles curled into Derek, clutching at his shirt. He heard another hitch in Derek’s breathing and smiled.

“Believe me when I say that you really, really don’t want this. Get up. Come on, I’ll help you. Let’s get you in bed.”

Bed? Bed sounded good. Stiles stopped rubbing against where Derek knelt beside him, not even caring at the wet spot the precome left on the denim. He wanted. Oh, he wanted. Derek was supporting more than his fair share of Stiles’ weight when Stiles tripped over his dropped towel. Walking was a waste of time. Why walk when they could be fucking? The lick of heat was burning him up. He was ashes. Stiles was dying and only Derek could make it go away. The kiss was clumsy, but Stiles bit at Derek’s lip, pressing his naked body against Derek’s clothed one, his fingers tightening in Derek’s t-shirt.

He cried out when Derek’s hands closed over his hips, pulling them together and kissing back for one perfect heartbeat before ripping his body away from Stiles and practically frog-marching him into the bedroom. Stiles fell on the bed and Derek backed away, looking like it was torture to take the second step back.

“Stiles. Just... trust me. You really don’t want me here.”

That was stupid. Of course he did. Stiles flipped over on the bed, the sheets cool against his sweaty skin, He moaned at the feeling of his cheeks sliding together from his own slickness, bending over so Derek could just fuck him. Just slide into him and make this... make him real again. He knew his ass was on display. And why shouldn’t it be?

He heard a groan; a muffled ‘fuck’ from across the room, but Derek was still too ... far...away! Why was Derek staying all the way over there? Stiles turned so he could see Derek from over his shoulder. Derek’s eyes were wide. His adam’s apple bobbed twice before turning away, reaching into a brown paper sack. “I. I know.” His voice was much higher than normal. If Stiles hadn’t been so far gone, he would have called it a squeak. Derek cleared his throat. “I know it’s not the best idea, but you’ll be better off with this instead of me.” Derek tossed the back onto the bed, taking another step back, but slowly.

The toy slid out of the bag and Stiles pounced on it, licking at his chapped lips as he turned back to face the headboard. It had a few bumps on the plastic that made Stiles cry out as he slid it inside of him. His face landed on the bed with a muffled cry of Derek’s name. But his balance was off. He couldn’t get the angle he wanted with the way his legs were trembling against the mattress. Stiles turned onto his side, but he could tell that his hand on his cock wasn’t going to be enough. He needed Derek. Stiles made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and moved his legs apart, wiggling the toy back inside of him, trying to rock back at the same time. His whole body shuddered, but he didn’t come. It was starting to hurt now. He could just tell that his skin was practically vibrating, almost too sensitive. Stiles bit his lip, still working the toy inside of him. He heard the sounds he made when it bumped over his prostate...

But it wasn’t enough.

Stiles was only aware that he’d covered his face with his arm when he heard Derek beside him, shushing him, wiping the frustrated tears off of his face. Stiles hadn’t even been aware that he’d been crying.

Stiles moaned when Derek bent him back over, crying out sharply when Derek gently pushed away Stiles’ hands, pushing at his shoulders so he was bent over properly. One of Derek’s hands tightened over Stiles’ cock as the toy slid inside of him, deeper and oh. Ohhh. Stiles moaned, his muscles relaxing as Derek curled around him, finding the perfect angle inside of his body that made him quake with sensation. Stiles reached down to tangle his fingers with Derek’s, moving steadily on his cock. Derek bit his shoulder, and Stiles came, surprising himself. Derek shifted behind him, and Stiles felt one of Derek’s fingers slide down from his cock, bump over his balls then inside of him next to the toy.

Stiles heard Derek’s “Sorry, sorry” before the finger was removed, then Derek’s hand slid down a little lower to press against his perineum, while the toy hit his prostate at the same time.

Stiles felt his eyes roll back in his head as he came again. He wasn’t even sure what he was babbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Derek twisted the toy inside of him and Stiles jerked again, his limbs not under his own control anymore.

He couldn’t have said how many times Derek made him come. There wasn’t any way of him keeping track of how well Derek worked over his body. Only with his fingers and the plastic toy, though. Stiles knew he’d begged for Derek to fuck him, to just shove his cock inside of him until his voice was hoarse. But Derek had refused, then had ignored him, although Stiles was sure that a few times he had felt the rough denim of Derek’s jeans as Derek thrust against him, like he couldn’t help it, only to jerk away with a muffled apology. Derek didn’t even kiss him. Just the one bite on the shoulder, but that too hadn’t been quite what Stiles needed. He wanted his whole body covered in Derek’s scent. In his marks and in bruises from Derek mating with him.

Stiles came to once in the tub, the warm water almost sloshing out over the edge as Derek knelt next to him, carefully tilting back his head so that he could get the shampoo off his hair without getting it in Stiles’ eyes. Stiles brought his hand up to grip Derek’s wrist, his eyes wide and confused.

“It’s okay Stiles. I’m just getting you cleaned up. It’s almost over now, just relax for me, okay? I’ve got you.”

And that made absolute perfect sense. Stiles was stubborn though. He wanted to watch Derek taking care of him, because even then he knew that this was just pretend. That this wasn’t really how his life went. His blinks became longer and longer as he watched Derek wash him, carefully soaping every inch of his body until Stiles couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

He was aware of being carried, which was ridiculous because this was a dream. It had to be a dream. Maybe he was flying. But he didn’t think so. His dream smelled like Derek, and was warm and keeping him close. Stiles heard a grumpy, discontented sound when he was set onto something uncomfortable that wasn’t Derek, then the low sound of someone chuckling. The Derek-dream even spoke to him. Something about just a minute, and stripping a bed. Whatever. The Derek-dream was pretty fucking annoying actually. It made him drink something that tasted disgusting. But it was cold and oh god he was so, so thirsty so he didn’t complain too much. Well okay maybe just a little. He hated orange Gatorade. If this was his dream, then his brain should know that okay? Dream-Derek made a weird sound, and Stiles felt something soft brush against his forehead before he was flying again, this time only to land on something soft and cool.

Dream-Derek was brilliant. Stiles stretched on the bed, burrowing under clean sheets and the bedspread. His body was a little cold now from the air-conditioning and from Derek not being flush against him anymore. He frowned into his pillow. Why wasn’t Derek here? Derek should be here. But before he could chase the thought down, or open his mouth and ask the question, Stiles drifted off to sleep.

****

Stiles woke with a gasp. He could tell that his body was mostly over the insanity; he felt like Stiles again. He could feel his cheeks heating at how stupid he’d acted, but knew also that Derek wouldn’t hold it against him.

He bit his lip, wincing a little when he remembered how Derek had done everything to help him through his heat in a way that Stiles wouldn’t hate him for later. It had been more than Stiles had ever expected of him. Stiles waited for the familiar anger and hate to flood him as it had done every single time he’d let himself think of Derek since ...

... since Derek had hurt him to keep him safe.

Shit. That was the long and short of it. Stiles flipped over onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling. Scott and Derek had done something really, completely, and utterly stupid to keep Stiles from flinging himself into whatever half-assed plan sparked through his brain at the time.

Now? Now Stiles could admit to how many times he had hurt himself, or caused the pack more trouble when he’d gone running hell bent for leather into some kind of werewolf political bullshit. Now it was easier to look back and acknowledge that perhaps.... some of his plans hadn’t been quite as brilliant as he’d thought. Now Stiles could see that the younger version of himself had been so busy trying to prove that the fragile little human wasn’t some kind of liability... that he’d become a complete and utter liability. He’d put the pack in danger.

That didn’t mean that Derek, and to some extent Scott, weren’t completely blameless. That it was just okay that Scott could trick him like that. They had been best friends. Scott had known everything there was to know about Stiles, and Stiles had known everything there was to know about Scott- from the time Scott had laughed so hard in Mrs. Kemprett’s class that he’d wet his pants, to right after his mom’s death how Stiles had been afraid that if he went to bed before his dad, his dad wouldn’t be there when he woke up either. Scott hadn’t ever said anything when Stile had shown up at his house unannounced, too freaked out by his nightmares. Mrs. McCall had even started keeping a sleeping bag and toothbrush ready for him.

It made a sick sort of sense that Scott would manipulate exactly what would make Stiles hurt the most; know exactly what to say to send him running for the hills. And the fucking pisser of it all was that they’d both been right, hadn’t they? Stiles’ big idea- his perfect plan was to distract the guy while the pack took care of business. The guy that he’d made out with- what. For maybe thirty seconds? Two years ago? A little over two years ago? The fucking crazy bastard had been psychotic enough to fucking stalk him and his baby, to fuck up his suppression meds and herd him back towards Beacon Hills like a wayward calf towards slaughter. Why though. What was so special about him that rated this craziness? Cameras in his house? Some kind of Jason Bourne scope rifle shit on his daughter’s head?

Yeah, it was possible that Stiles hadn’t thought the repercussions all the way through. Hell, at the time, he hadn’t ever dreamed that there would even be repercussions of his actions. He was just the smart one, the awesome Stilinski making more plans that had to be just as brilliant as he was.

Stiles flipped over on the bed, his mind drifting back to Derek and how careful he’d been with him. That had certainly changed from two years ago. Even when the two of them had been dating- Derek had been... well. Not particularly warm and fuzzy. Derek wasn’t a cuddler. It had been a lot like two guys just hanging out together who happened to kiss. A lot. Derek had (and again, maybe it was the hours and hours of mindless coming that had finally set his head straight, cuz Stiles sure as fuck wouldn’t have thought of this even a few days ago) been like a different person.

Stiles sat up, sliding out of bed. The air was too cold. He bent over and turned down the thermostat, shivering at the coolness of the air. Somehow he thought his body would hurt more after being in heat. Of course, Derek hadn’t really fucked him. So maybe that was why. Last time he had been able to feel that Derek had been there, to remember him with every time Stiles had moved too quickly, or stretched too far. At the time he had hated it. Now though? Now he missed it.

He looked down at himself, laughing a little to see that he was wearing boxers. All at once, he remembered how he’d been so out of control that he’d actually pushed Isaac up against the wall, caught up in the scent and the heat of him. Isaac was Derek’s pack. Derek had called...

Stiles’ eyes widened.

He had told Derek that he didn’t want to see any of the pack. Any of the people who had hurt him, no matter how small their role had been. So Derek? Derek had called Isaac, the one person who had been close enough to Stiles not to cause him any pain. Isaac who was the only one who had driven the few hours necessary to come and check up on him while Stiles had been at school.

The thing was, Derek was a shitty Alpha. Or at least he had been. Stiles didn’t know anything about the pack nowadays to really make that judgement. But back then? Derek hadn’t a clue about what he was doing. He’d been with Ethel long enough to know how a pack was supposed to function, and what Derek had done? Not healthy. Not good for any of them. Fragile as a house of cards, ready to blow down at the slightest disturbance. The arrogance and the strong-arming- Derk had done a lot with a bunch of quasi-fucked up teenagers. Because they were quasi-fucked up teenagers. But he hadn’t been shown what to do. It wasn’t like he’d taken Alpha lessons from his parents- or if he had, he’d been too young to really understand how to keep people together. Now he could see that Derek hadn’t had a clue at what he was doing- but was trying to do it anyway.

Stiles ran his hand over his face.

The closed door looked less like a barrier to keep him out, and more like a barrier to keep him safe. Derek had all but told him that he was afraid of how Stiles would react once his heat had worn off. But he had helped him anyway.

Stiles took a step forward and bit his lip. Did he want to do this? Did he really? Did he mean that he forgave Derek?

No.

Hell no. Stiles wasn’t sure he would ever be able to forgive that. Yeah, extenuating circumstances, heart in the right place, blah blah.. but the fact remained that Stiles had trusted Derek. That he’d trusted his Scott, his best friend to always have his back. But that didn’t change the fact that right now? This minute right here? Stiles wanted. He wanted Derek to take him out of his head and make him feel safe.

Stiles heaved a sigh. Shit. The fact was- this wasn’t something that he could figure out in one night. There was rather a lot going on at the moment. Disappearing off the grid was... it had been necessary. Talk about bad timing. If he had been anyone else, Stiles would have laughed at himself. Stiles took another few steps towards the closed door, resting just the tips of his fingers against the wood.

Was Derek over there? Was he sleeping or reading? Watching television or... was he with Isaac and Zoe? Stiles shivered, rested his forehead against the cool surface.

He supposed there was only one way to find out.

TBC!

(yes a bit of a cliffie. But I did warn you. :) )