I'm back! Well, for now. :) My time's freeing up a bit, so we'll see how much I can start writing again. I miss this, and you guys!

This song... guh. You should go listen to it, it's pretty twisted and great.

Disclaimer: Uh.. disclaimed. Teen Wolf belongs to Jeff Davis, MCR belong to themselves, the insane giggle at the end of this song belongs to Bert McCracken.


You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison - My Chemical Romance


Stiles never liked the idea of conjugal visits.

Too bad that that was what it looked like he was in for as he watched the police officer push Derek's head down and into the cruiser. The high schooler sighed exasperatedly when the wolf gave him a cheeky grin through the back window as the car pulled away from the Hale house, taillights gleaming in the dark.

The whole point was to not get caught.

"Serves the bastard right," Scott grumbled from beside Stiles before walking over to the remaining officers circled around Peter Hale's smoking corpse.

Stiles rolled his eyes. Yeah, sure, Scott lost his last chance at humanity and quite possibly the love of his life, but Stiles now had the inconvenience of going through the penal system if he ever wanted to have sex with Derek again!

There was no way the wolf was getting less than a life sentence, considering the cops pulled up while he was standing over his recently burned-and-slashed-to-death uncle. Not to mention that the body of the woman Derek was notorious for having a vendetta against was crumpled in a bloody puddle in the man's own living room.

Stiles sighed. It was a rough night all around.

"Weird things've been happenin' lately," the guard informed Stiles as they walked down the hall. "Accidents, ya know?"

Stiles suppressed a snort. "Accidents?"

"Like guys lifting too much weight in the gym and dropping the barbells on their chests; we found two of them with their ribs splintered into their lungs the other day. And a guy slipped in the showers last week, broke his neck."

Stiles was barely paying attention to the guard. He was busy catching eyes with inmates inside their cells and smirking at the catcalls and obscene comments hurled at him.

"Hey, beautiful—"

"Come 'ere, kid, I'll fuck you so hard you'll taste it—"

"I bet you scream real pretty—"

And the guard took no notice. Stiles allowed himself a little giggle as he tuned back into the man's rambling.

"—never seen blood come from there before. So anyway, you should tell your friend to be careful."

They stopped in front of a door and the man stationed himself beside the frame. Stiles pushed the door open, carefully closing it behind him and striding toward the man sitting at a table in the center of the room.

"Hey," he said, leaning over the table to press his lips heavily against Derek's. He sighed into the kiss, the desperation and longing he'd pushed down rising, and Derek curled his hand around Stiles' neck to bring them closer.

"About time you came to see me," the wolf grinned when they parted, eyes on Stiles' tongue as the kid ran it over his lips to savor the man's taste. Stiles shrugged and sat down across the table.

"How are you?"

Derek sat back in his seat and grinned that fucking manic grin again. "Doing great."

Stiles stared at him, "Yeah? Just because I know what they do to guys like you in prison. Well," he corrected, "guys like us." He reached across the table and laced their hands to prove his point.

The man chuckled, his eyes flashing to that icy blue, and he sat forward again. "You know what they do to wolves like me in prison?"

Stiles huffed at the playful tone and didn't answer. Derek was fucking enjoying himself.

And then the other man was laughing—hahahahah—and choking out, "Nothing!"

Stiles' shoulders dropped and he rolled his eyes, waiting for the lycan to calm down.

"So the guy that 'slipped and fell' in the showers?"

Derek shrugged noncommittally. "He thought he was strong enough to push me to my knees."

The younger man crossed his arms and sighed, frustrated. "And the guys with the weights?"

The other leaned closer, lips stretching as he grinned. "Friends of the shower-guy. It was precious how they thought they were so strong."

Stiles pouted. "I wish you would take this seriously. What happens when the guards find out it was all you?"

Stiles imagined Derek sitting in an old-school wooden chair with his arms strapped down, fabric brought down over his head and a dripping sponge on top of his head. Or a needle sticking from the wolf's arm, a fatal, clear liquid being pushed into his veins. Stiles pictured the man swinging from a rope tie around his neck.

He knew none of the execution attempts would work on the non-human, but he still didn't like thinking about it.

"Hey," Derek murmured, leaning in so their faces were inches apart, his eyes focused on Stiles'. "When that happens, I'll take everyone down, burn this place to the fucking ground, and come home to you."

Stiles held his gaze, trying not to let his tiny smile show too much fondness. He pushed his lips to the lycan's, enjoying the way Derek tugged on his lower lip when he pulled back, and sighed.

"Well, if it speeds up the process, the prisoner down the hall said he'd fuck me so hard I'd taste it," he said conversationally.

Derek considered the younger man for a moment before replying equally matter-of-factly. "His death will be painful."

Stiles nodded to himself and rose from his chair. "See you soon."

He headed toward the door and, just as he pushed it open, he turned back to the wolf, "And, hey, be careful. I've heard there've been some crazy accidents happening around here," he teased, loud enough for the guard outside to hear.

The door slammed closed on Derek's loud laughter.


I love insane!Derek. And semi-insane!Stiles. Oh, oh, and Gerard Way and his sexyfine, maniac self.

And reviews.