Teen Wolf is one of those shows that I honestly feel a bit bad for liking, but will still defend.
I think this counts more as a friendship piece, with a very slight hint of gayness (which could be said for the show itself, truth be told...)
Hint wise, it would be very mild Derek/Stiles, but again I like to see it more as them kind of getting along. They were almost there in the last episode, but not quite. By the end of the season I could see them actually being friendly. Derek has a kind of...dark ..unintentional humor that I think Stiles plays off of well.
Anyway, most of this is completely...well I sort of made up a backstory for Stiles. Which I'm sure will turn out NOT to be true, so right now I'm just fucking around. Anyway. Disclaimer: I own no characters, story or anything mentioned. I am not making money off of it.
Scott was out with Allison Argent again, on yet another double date with Lydia and ...Jackson.
Stiles shook his head free of thoughts of love lives and certain douche-bag lacrosse players. Of course his mind had a mind of it's very own and rarely listened to the other, and his thoughts continued.
Hadn't Scott not wanted to waste more precious macking time on double dates with the other couple? Lord knows it probably wasn't actually Scott's idea in the first place, that boy tended to just go along with things, and who wouldn't if it meant a chance of getting to more than one base just for being a 'good boyfriend'.
What kind of name was Argent anyway?
Silver, really? Could they be anymore obvious?
Stiles looked down at his left hand to see it tapping the pen he had been holding viciously against the table he had been working on before his thoughts drifted to matters of less importance.
"Ugh, no more Adderall for me tonight..." He tossed the pen against the wall, and watched it roll back towards him over the papers askew on his desk.
He was doing his rightly best friend duties again and researching everything he could get his hands on to do with Werewolves and ancient legend.
Sometimes he wondered why the legends hadn't claimed more credence over the centuries. The legend was almost universally accepted in legends and folklore, which wasn't all that common with other myths and legends until travel and transport was more accessible.
Ancient Greece...Ancient Japan...Ancient Native America...Not to mention pockets of similar legends throughout pockets of pretty much every place that has ever had people or a wolf presence.
He supposed those individuals that thought nothing of it, attributed the legends to nothing more than a hold over of the 'big bad wolf' stories. Yet stories of individuals turning into other predators were far more rare, even though the animals had a similar spread...big cats, bears... Yet there was rarely a big bad were-bear, outside of suspect areas of San Fransico.
But ignoring the basic legend itself, it was far more difficult to tell fact from fiction from there on...
Stiles may have had a living breathing werewolf as a best buddy, but since Scott knew nothing...and was currently out canoodling with his girlfriend he wasn't much of a help. There might have been one other person he could turn to...but...Stiles valued his own life enough to cross off that possibility.
Stiles made a face to the empty room, to his strewn papers and books. Why was it that HE was the one doing all of the work, and the investigating? Why did it have to come down to him, and a healthy helping of semi-addictive medication to actually look up what could be a life or death situation ...when it wasn't even his life on the line.
He huffed out loud, "I am such a better friend than Scott is...He's lucky to have me."
"I think that greatly depends on what your definition of luck is."
Okay, presumably empty room that was.
Stiles jerked backwards while simultaneously trying to spin around in his chair. His chair, however did not have a back to it, nor was he properly balanced in the first place which ended with him toppling out and onto his ass.
"What is wrong with you?" He hissed out loudly, Stiles didn't need to actually turn around to guess who the speaker was. There was only one person in their stupid town that was stalker-y enough to actually be able to sneak into his room unannounced and then proceed to make a shitty little comment.
This figure looked more menacing than usual when he was lit by nothing but the small wal-mart lamp Stile's had on his desk.
Derek crossed his legs from where he was leaning up against his bedroom wall. His look changed very rarely. For someone who seemingly acted like he put no care into what people thought about him, he had a very obvious style. Dark clothes, tight fit tee shirts and jeans...hair that most certainly had to have some sort of product in it. Though Stiles didn't cross off the possibility of wolfspit as an adhesive.
"Okay, I know what's wrong with you, but why the hell are you in my room? Don't you have some maiden to kidnap...or some house to haunt. You know. Like your own creepy ass house?" Stiles stood as quickly as he could and glanced around for some kind of weapon, just in case. The last time his throat had been threatened by the mysterious wolf was the first and only time he needed to be warned that this individual was dangerous. Even if he didn't have super awesome wolf powers, he was still a good few inches taller than him, not to mention more muscular.
This was a person that could theoretically lung forward and rip out his windpipe before Stiles so much as said 'eep'.
Sadly enough, for having a father that happened to be a police chief, Stiles had a sad lack of weapons in his house. Unless he wanted to toss, 'Legends and Folklore; A How To.' at the wolfs head. Something that was not a good idea when werewolves seemed to transform when they got pissed off, plausibly by something as small as having a book flung at their skul.
"Scott's a fool in continuing to seek a relationship with that girl."
Well that answered none of his questions. Stiles huffed in exasperation, physical threat or not, Derek was dangerous to his sanity.
"You don't have to tell me that...wait you know what, screw you! Scott doesn't have to live the rest of his life in a stupid little shack...brooding away the minutes until he can creep into someone's bedroom!"
Stiles palmed the desk for the book anyway.
"You're loud. I don't like that." Derek's facial expressions changed about as much as a boulder's did.
Stiles' eyebrows rose and he shook his head slightly in disbelief before attempting to collect his thoughts.
"Why. Are. You. Here? If you're so concerned with your new little wolf friend Scott, then go get him boy! Fetch! That'sa good boy, fetch!"
A single eyebrow rose. Stiles bit his lip, okay so he may have collected a certain assortment of thoughts, but they were less than helpful ones. Something that was all too common in Stile's life.
" You're doing research on lycanthropy to help Scott. I need to know what you think you know so I can correct you."
Okay, that was kind of an answer. A dickish one, but one none the less. Stiles crossed his arms, book in hand still.
"I'll have you know I'm one of the smartest kids in school. A's all the way around."
"You have a drug habit at 17 . You've snuck into more than one crime scene. You seem to feel the need to annoy me at every turn, regardless of the fact I could crush your skull in my palm. I'm fairly certain that doesn't qualify as intelligence."
Derek effortlessly and smoothly pushed himself off the wall and started to walk towards Stiles. Stiles was already not pleased, and was rather put off at the idea that the wolf knew enough about his life to know he popped adderall like tic-tacs..so he may have not made the best move on the planet.
Stiles threw his only defense, albeit a bad one, his book. Derek caught it in mid air, of course, and looked down at it.
"I've read this. It's got some things right." He moved forward and sat on the side of the desk. Stiles was backtracking as far as he could until he bumped into the side of his own bed.
"I'm not surprised you're a sheriff's son...You found the trail of something, and now you're staying up until dawn looking up leads."
That surprised Stiles. No one ever thought he was anything like his father. His dad who was serious, and calm and collected. Never said anything out of turn and rarely made a wrong move.
And, he would have never thought he'd be complimented by Derek Hale. That is, if it was a compliment at all...
"L-like I said...to..myself..when.. I thought I was alone...I'm a good friend. That's all." Derek looked up from the papers, his blue eyes were scanning to fix them on Stiles.
"...I suppose so. You're smarter than Scott anyway."
"That's not saying much is it dude.." Derek smirked a little. That was an affirmative.
"How much do you know about my family?" Derek spoke after a moment of silence.
Stiles debated with himself for a second, before sitting down on his bed. He pondered.
"Did you hear? The Hale's house burned up...with most of the family inside."
"That's just horrible! Do they know what caused it?"
"No, there's not sufficient enough evidence to tell. Some people have suggested the son, Derek Hale, but no one knows for sure. I've met him once in the past, troubled boy, I wouldn't put it past him though.."
"What's going to happen to him and the other survivors?"
"Don't know. They're all over 18, so it's not like we can call in child services. I've heard they're leaving town though."
"It's still so tragic though...being there while your family dies I can't even imagin-...Oh. oh..Hi Stiles...why don't you go to the conference room, your dad's in there."
Stiles was 11 at the time, standing by himself in the Police Department. He ran a hand through his short hair and nodded at the secretary.
Wasn't it unprofessional to talk about cases in the open?
He knew those ladies had stopped talking when they noticed him, not because they cared if someone heard them but because they knew the Stilinski family had it's own skeleton in the closet..
Stiles had been 9 years old when he saw his mother shot, and bleed out.
He paused for a moment in the hallway.
'I bet seeing all of your family die in a fire would be even worse...'
Stiles jerked his head up, having lost himself to memory, barely registering the fact Derek had actually spoken his name.
Derek was looking at him oddly. Oddlier than usual anyway...
"Uh..I heard about some of it when I was younger in the police department...chatty secretaries. They just said what they knew I guess. Your name, and that pretty much everyone died with no leads... That's all."
Stiles shook his head, not so great memories flooding his head.
He had made friends with Scott just a year after that. Scott's father had died just before he was born, in Afghanistan during Desert Storm. His mom had previously been a medic in the army and that's how they had met. She was honorably discharged when they discovered she was pregnant and then received benefits after the death of her husband.
Scott and Stiles bonded pretty quickly, they were both a bit quirky and had lost parents...and were a far cry from being popular.
Derek paused, he didn't seem entirely upset. Which was good. Angry werewolf meant dead Stiles.
"Tell me what you think you know about werewolves and I'll correct you." Stiles made a face at this, granted he made a lot of faces. They said he was too expressive sometimes.
"Wouldn't it be easier for you to just tell me everything, since you...know...all about it already. Instead of having to redmark everything I say as I say it...?"
"Yes. But it wouldn't be as entertaining."
Stiles tossed his pillow at the older man. It was batted out of the way with ease.
"Ugh, fine your highness...Okay, so when someone is bit and they transfo-"
"...what. I haven't even said anything, how could I be wrong already?"
"Not all werewolves are bit. Some are born that way. I was born a werewolf, as my mother was one."
"...Cus' baby you were born that way?" Stiles grinned. Derek stared.
"Don't call me baby."
"Right right, forgot. You probably aren't hip to the pop music...you know speaking of which...Do you find me attractive?"
Derek actually managed to form an actual expression here, one of strange bewilderment and confusion that was actually rather amusing on what was likely a mad killer.
"See, there's this gay kid at school. Danny. And he doesn't find me attractive I don't think...or likes me in anyway really...and I know chicks don't dig me...cus'...what guy is still a virgin at my age and is still actually attractive. So I want to know if I appeal to the, you know, Werewolf Americans."
Stiles face was earnest, and not at all kidding.
"...It's.. not a sexuality...And...why don't you just ask Scott" Derek said, still entirely bewildered with eyebrows drawn down.
Stiles shook his head, "No, Scott didn't answer me when I asked him. Plus he's into Allison. Allison Argent." His brain still thinking 'Argent. Silver. Dumb.' While desperately trying not to grow contempt for Scott's perfectly nice girlfriend.
"I...I have this urge to bite out your throat right now, but even then somehow I doubt it would shut you up."
Derek actually began to look amused, which was either a really good sign or a really horrible one. Though his dad always did say, if you can get someone to laugh you're usually in the clear.
Stiles laughed, "Probably not. My mom always said I was born making stupid jokes."
Derek's eyebrow cocked, "I've never seen your mother."
Stiles lip twitched downward, mood broken slightly. But he wasn't one to let it show. He never had.
"Ah, yeah. She died...while back."
For a moment Stiles wanted to say 'what does it matter to you? Why do you care? What gives you the right to ask?' but then he remembered this was Derek Hale. Someone who had probably seen more hell than he had, and not to mention the fact that it seemed like everyone near him had been thrust into some sort of paranormal conspiracy.
"She was shot. Our car was jacked...she was a deputy at the time, and tried to fight back. They shot her in the stomach and drove off in our car. They found the car, but they never found the guys."
Derek paused for a moment, "You were there with her?"
"Then that's good."
Stiles mouth dropped open. Derek was a cold hearted asshole but that seemed more insensitive than usual,
"She knew you were safe, and died with someone she loved next to her. There are worse ways to die."
Stiles didn't know what to say. Which wasn't rare, but it rarely caused him to actually not speak. His eyes stung a bit, he knew he wasn't crying but it still hurt. He sniffed and nodded. This was Derek Hale speaking, he certainly must have known there were worse ways to die. Like fire..
He never heard the other man move until he sat down next to him on the bed.
"You'll be a valuable part of Scott's pack. Even if you're never turned." Stiles looked up into the sharp blue eyes. Scott's eyes were a burning gold, which seemed to reflect the inner wolf. Derek's eyes were more the cool eyes of a husky or wild dog. More controlled and calm, with just as much of a bite.
"-And I guess you have.. a sort of cute face."
For awhile after Stiles had a hard time controlling his laugher.