Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters.
Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.
Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles
AN: I thank all of you for reviews, I survive off of them. Okay so hopefully I'm back on track now and I hope you enjoy!
The Demon I Cling To
A cigarette glowed amber in the dark desolate countryside near the county line of Beacon Hills as the man inhaled its deadly toxin; steady fingers dropped the cancer stick back to his side. He leaned against the grill of his pickup truck, the tires resembled those of a miniature monster truck; ready to crush anything less superior than itself. And the man was a reflection of his vehicle. Enlarged with muscle mass and already standing at an impressive height, he towered over most and always walked with a sense of purpose which made everyone part like a sea before Moses. There was a darkness to his eyes that was pure emotion rather than the shade of his irises for they were a blue that almost shone clear in the right light.
His Marlboro cigarette had burned to its orange stub with his final inhale and the man flicked it onto the road and watched as small sparks ignited with each abrupt contact with the asphalt.
Looking down the black length of the two lane road, he hissed a curse before reaching into his back pocket for another cancer stick. He was able to place the cigarette between his dry lips and ignite the lighter when a shock of LED lighting washed his presence in its glow.
He shielded his eyes and wished he could do the same with his ears as the significant roar and wail of a motorcycle accosted his eardrums.
Letting out a slew of curses that only he could comprehend (the cigarette falling forgotten to the ground), the man raised his burly arms and waved them back and forth before the noisy machine. He placed himself in the middle of the road just to make sure.
The motorcycle kept racing towards him, until the last possible moment before hitting the breaks. A loud skidding cry leapt through the cold night air and only a meter of empty road distanced the two as the bike and its rider stopped sideways. The black helmet was immediately removed to reveal the largest grin and wild vibrant eyes.
The man fully standing gave a grunt of displeasure and greeted his younger counterpart curtly, "Andy."
The gleeful look on Andy's face didn't fall and the grin just grew wider, "Paul."
Paul wasn't amused or affected by the airy jubilant aura that fell off this motorcyclist and growled out, "Could you have picked noisier transportation? We need to keep a low profile, we're hunters for god's sake!"
Andy rolled his eyes and glanced behind the mountain of a man, "Says the guy in the sweet sooped up pickup truck. Bet it growls just as much as you and spits out black smoke to boot."
Paul ignored this quip at him and continued, "And you're late. As usual."
Scoffing, the motorcyclist slowly led his puffing bike to the emergency lane behind Paul's monstrosity and shut the engine off. The night was almost deafening in its wake.
"Well it looks like I'm earlier than most. I don't see Jole gracing us with his presence as of yet." Andy swung a leg off his bike and stood a head shorter than Paul.
Paul grunted before whisking out his third cigarette and just holding it between thick fingers as he replied, "Jole is bringing us something that is quite difficult to transport."
He noticed the look of suspicion crossing Andy's face.
"You two have been like little school girls with your secrets. When are you going to invite me in your circle?"
Paul smirked, "I figured unpredictable men such as yourself enjoy surprises."
Andy threw him a glare, "I'm sure when you say 'unpredictable' you really mean 'unreliable'. I'm so sorry I don't meet your criteria as a hunter. But for some reason you still require my assistance…" Andy tilted his head then smirked as a thought occurred to him, "Oh yeah, maybe it's because I'm the only one 'unpredictable' enough to take on such a vapid and inane mission."
Paul tensed at the slight and began to stalk the short distance between the two men but stopped when lights flashed with much of the same fashion Andy's had, except there were two headlights now. Both men watched as the wide truck slowed down heavily and Paul knew it had to be Jole. The taller man's shoulders lost altitude with the new distraction in place and Paul quickly turned his interest from beating Andy's face in. The hefty black truck pulled over on their side of the road behind Andy's bike and cut the soft purring engine.
The driver's door swung open. A man almost as meaty as Paul himself got out and walked purposefully over to him, clapping the man heartily on the back of his shoulder in greeting. Paul returned the physical sentiment with equal amount of force and smiled wide.
"You made it in one piece." He started.
"Of course. After I heard you lost your sweet heart, had to come no matter what." Jole mostly growled out in a voice so dirty and deep, only continuous smoking could claim its distortion.
Paul nodded once, "And I'm grateful." He took a glance behind the large man to look at his truck with question evident in his eyes, "Did he cooperate or did you have to kill him?" He asked right out and noticed Andy's ears perked up at the odd question.
Jole looked over his shoulder as well.
"Fortunately for him and his lot, he folded quite nicely. Have you not been keeping up with the headlines?"
Paul chuckled, "You know me—always a current events man. And can I say, I've always been a fan of your work."
Jole looked pleased with himself to say the least as his chest got bigger and stance straighter, "You're not as creative as I am, my friend."
"No I am not," Paul agreed, "I was afraid the boy would crumble under the pressure."
"Well you know what it's like. These beasts will turn on each other in a heartbeat if it meant they'd live to pollute the Earth another day. They may look human on occasion but they're just slightly more evolved animals that need to be hunted and put down." Jole spat on the asphalt with disgust coloring his face.
Andy regarded Jole with uncertainty before the younger man introduced himself into the conversation, "Some say the same about us humans. That pesky little fact that we descend from apes…which happens to be an animal."
A long stiff silence fell between the small group of hunters as Jole sized up his comrade, the younger man didn't wither under the hard stare. Jole cleared his throat to end the stalemate, "Let's just keep our species at the top of the food chain, shall we? We've got work to do." Jole ended whatever disagreement that was being born and looked back to Paul with a silent inquiry of their next move.
Andy looked to Paul as well with raised eyebrows.
Paul nodded and took the lead.
"Beacon Hills inhabits a lot of forest area as you can see. So we'll have to start combing through them; that means looking for residences on the edge of town. And as taxing as it sounds I've come across real hunters that have seen carcasses of large animals ripped to shreds with no leads as to what did it. Now that we have our main weapon thanks to Jole here, we can cover more ground and get results." Paul grinned triumphantly.
Stiles had somehow managed to fall asleep during the night hours but that didn't mean his slumber was restful. On the contrary, the teen woke up with no blood in his left arm and right leg. His arm was trapped beneath his chest and was now just resurfacing; the limb felt like a dead fish. His right leg was lifted and resting on the wall that his mattress was pressed against. He actually slept like this…
Groaning, Stiles jiggled his hand and leg until the sensation of pins jabbing him relentlessly overcame the numbness. When his extremities were saved from death, the teen got up and painfully walked around his bedroom with a limp. He didn't know what to do next. The events of last night assaulted his brain like a tidal wave and he couldn't come up for air. He could feel the stinging from his eyeballs as his eyes got wider and wider in disbelief. Looking to the still pried open window as evidence, Stiles couldn't write it off as one very strange dream.
He walked over to the window as if he were impersonating a cyborg with very stiff joints and pulled down the pane of glass until it was securely closed. Automatically, his hand touched the lock with every intention of dragging the lever but fell short when Derek's hot breath ghosted across Stiles' brain.
He knew he enjoyed every second of last night's encounter with the werewolf. Even though there was fear and anxiety, Stiles was more inclined to embrace the excitement and arousal he had experienced instead. Before Derek had turned everything upside down with his visit, Stiles had convinced himself that he wasn't attracted to the man. But now, obviously he had been proven wrong—very wrong.
Stiles didn't allow himself to lock the window and walked in his cyborg fashion back to the bed. The bed where it happened. Letting out a shaky breath, Stiles needed to plan his next move. So…he what? …Liked Derek? Loved? Stiles shook his head fiercely at the embarrassing thought. No love, can't be love. But what was for certain was that he was attracted to Derek the way he was supposed to be attracted to girls. He wanted to feel Derek pulling his body close to the older man's again, feel that unbelievable warmth the man possessed and experience last night's encounter a million times over and possibly more. Stiles' groin gave an honest and agreeable twitch at that. So he was the girl instead.
"How did I end up like this?" Stiles groaned out loud but then another thought surfaced from his memory of last night had ended with his father interrupting the heated moment. Derek's facial expression had been branded into the teen's mind when the man broke from his haze. Horrified, guilt ridden and confused all at once, Derek had fled and left many things unsaid. Not like there had been time but Stiles had waited for Derek to return after the Sherriff departed but all that came was sleep from focusing too long on the lone window.
Stiles wanted desperately to know now how Derek felt about him. Was this just the side effect of the alpha being in control or was there actual meaningful intention behind Derek's ministrations? All the occurrences that took place between the two allowed Stiles to unwillingly hope that Derek wanted Stiles the way Stiles wanted him in return. From saving his life from the fall to checking his wellbeing, surely Derek held affection of some kind…
"I'm such a girl." He muttered out with mortified undertones. He began to realize that every time he encountered this situation every revelation and thought was a novelty to him and ripped at his pride and gut like it set out to devour him whole. Infatuation wasn't supposed to be this humiliating was it?
"I like Derek Hale." Stiles said it out loud for the first time. And there was that gut wrenching feeling again and the skipping of his brutalized heart. Would he ever get used to having these feelings for another male?
Stiles' eyes landed on his cell and a hand was already picking up on it and fingers deftly sifting through his contacts. His finger paused over the call option but resumed and pressed it. Lifting the phone to his ear, Stiles eyes looked back to his unkempt bedding.
The ringing went on for longer than what should be possible and at some point Stiles had drowned it out as he was flooded with the pleasant sensations of last night's tryst.
"Damn it, whoever this is better start talking or I give this number to the police and say it's a sex offender trying to meet up with me." Danny grumbled very groggy and raspy, the sleep evident in his voice.
Stiles had only caught half of the threat, eyes lighting with awareness and heavy confusion, "What?"
"Wait is this…STILES? The hell man. It's eight in the morning. My brain shouldn't even exist at this hour."
Rubbing his buzz cut, Stiles chuckled nervously and took another cautionary glance at his bed before he sat at the edge of it most uncomfortably as if it weren't his own.
"Sorry man, I just really need to talk to the only guy that knows I might be…gay." The word still struggled its way out.
Stiles heard a sigh that should only pass the lips of a man that carried the entire weight of the world on his shoulders before Danny spoke again, "Didn't we already settle this? Admiration right? You're his little fan boy."
Stiles looked up to the ceiling and nodded, "Right and all was great and dandy for an hour or so. But you see the problem is, he came over in the middle of the night and... things happened."
Silence. "Things." Danny reiterate d as if trying to understand.
"Things." Stiles confirmed and added emphasis to the very obscure word.
"You two played Monopoly? What things are we talking about here, you have to be specific." Stiles groaned in frustration, did he really have to say it out loud?
Going to the window, Stiles checked the driveway and found it absent of a Sherriff's vehicle and commenced with his story without the fear of being overheard. Stiles relived every detail of his and Derek's encounter and gave an edited version to Danny who he wasn't sure was conscious anymore by the end of his story. Blushing and feel uncomfortable, he explained to his gay acquaintance that it's not admiration at all, that what he feels for Derek is attraction and he wanted to find out Derek's feelings. Should he try to pursue an actual relationship or should he act like last night never happened? The teen was at a crossroads of indecision and each course of action was terrifying to consider. But Stiles could already guess what Derek would do when the two were in each other's presence again. Derek would try to push him away, distance himself if his regretful and pained face from last night was anything to go off of. He didn't want to lose Derek's companionship completely to this, but Stiles knew there was something more than the friendship that covered the surface. This was a chance to delve into that unknown and see where it led to. So Stiles now fully expected Danny to know exactly what to do.
"You…still there?" Stiles questioned the silence on the other end and wondered if he should feel stupid for talking to himself that entire time.
"He obviously is attracted to you," Danny's voice reenters the conversation and sounding as if he was a doctor diagnosing a worried patient's symptoms. "Though I can't imagine why. You look like you dreamed of being a G.I. Joe who got rejected and you're still one funny looking dude even if you had hair."
"Thanks." Stiles deadpanned.
"Anyway, I can understand your concerns. But you have to decide if whatever you choose to do is worth the consequences. If you love him," Stiles cringed at the word, "and don't tell him, you'll be repressed and stuck in the friend zone. Tell him and he feels the same—which makes since giving the fact he actually touched you—" Stiles rolled his eyes, "then its happily ever after in a way I never want to imagine."
"Yes, but you're leaving out the possibility that he doesn't feel the same way I do and it destroys our shaky friendship to the point of it being finished for good." Stiles mentioned and tried not to pay attention to how his heart clinched at the thought.
"Well there is that possibility. But all the odds are in your favor and everything will most likely work out for the best. I thought you were braver than this Stilinski." Danny was trying to goad Stiles into action but the teen still felt uncertain. He wished he could tell Danny everything about their circumstances then maybe the guy wouldn't be so adamant on the outcome. But he knew it was inadvisable. Stiles let out a loud resigning breath, one that stated he made a decision.
"I want to talk to him about last night. I want to tell him that I'm okay with what happened. More than just okay. That I l-like him."
"Good now let me sleep. Oh and Stiles? Good luck." There was a hint of a smile detected in Danny's voice before the first string lacrosse player hung up his end of the line. It made Stiles smile despite his predicament. He didn't want to dwell on the fact that there was a "but" coming up in his earlier declaration and instead felt gratitude towards Danny for listening to his problems for the second time.
"Thanks." Stiles said quietly even though Danny was long gone and back in Danny land doing whatever Dannys do in their dreams.
Stiles flung his head back onto the mattress, now feeling as if the bed was a sanctuary instead of a bed of nails and looked to the ceiling. It felt amazing to be curled up on a bed that Derek had touched him on the previous night. It felt warm.
He had to talk to Derek. Today.
That evening when Stiles drove up to the Hale residence a stone sank in his gut at the sight of two familiar vehicles stationary on the front lawn. One he recognized with a hint of resentment from watching Scott getting in on the passenger's side of it each day after school. The other, a large black SUV that sat next to Allison's car was the one that Chris Argent drove the last time Stiles had encountered the man in front of Derek's home. Why were the Argents there together? Was this father-daughter bonding time, killing the alpha werewolf? No…they wouldn't. They're honorable people and big on morality. Stiles had to remind himself that there was an enemy coming much more formidable than the just Chris Argent and his werewolf dating daughter.
After common sense washed away his paranoia, Stiles walked towards the house with a curiosity that overrode his reason for dropping by in the first place. The teen whisked through the door without bothering to knock and immediately set eyes upon all of them. None looked surprised by his sudden appearance (though Scott was holding back a fierce scowl) and immediately his eyes landed on Derek Hale. All curiosity as to why the extra company flew out the window when Derek's own eyes connected with his.
The alpha was actually fully clothed for once in a buttoned down shirt that didn't look like it had faced Armageddon and some casual jeans of matching quality. Looking down—and yes, he even put on shoes. His face was freshly shaved (by what means it was a mystery) and eyes absent of their violent red tinge. Derek looked like a shade of his old self again, but Stiles knew the man before him now a lot better than he had a few months ago. And in knowing him, Stiles grew to…like him. In a betrayal, his heart fluttered and Derek's eyebrows dipped lower in reaction.
"Stiles. Hey." Scott spoke up first, moving forward from their small gathering by the side of the stairs. Stiles ripped his eyes from Derek to land on his best friend and his train of thought refocused on the very obvious slight that was directed at him.
"How come you didn't call me?" He felt hurt really. He didn't let it show on his face or through his voice however. At first he wanted to direct the question to Derek but thought better of it and kept his eyes on his foot shuffling friend.
Even though he could tell Scott felt uneasy, the younger werewolf hardened his facial features, "Look, I meant what I said the other day in class. I don't want you to be a part of this. This isn't your life. It doesn't ever have to be."
Stiles felt as if someone had just slapped him in the face. And one quick glance at Derek told the teen right away Derek wholeheartedly agreed with Scott. A stinging in the undistinguishable back part of his nose told Stiles that he felt close to crying. There was no way he'd do that. Even if the werewolves insisted that assistance from a human like Stiles was unnecessary, that didn't mean Stiles would be okay without them. What about his needs?
"And what I said in return bears no weight in the matter? I'm as much a part of this as you are, so stop treating me like I'm this fragile figurine that'll break if you squeeze too hard and let me help you!" Stiles brushed past Scott and felt as if he had brushed up against a brick wall and faltered but kept walking in defiance until he reached the others who were met up in what looked to have been a living room at one point.
"So what did I miss?" Stiles asked obstinately, eyes flickering from Derek to Chris Argent.
The elder Argent held a glint in his eyes that gave away his amusement on what just took place but spoke nothing of it.
"You, Mr. Stilinski were fortunate enough to walk in just after the "cordial" greetings where exchanged. You have missed nothing of importance. Now, if you three are quite finished, let me explain why I'm here."
Stiles felt flustered. He was the one holding everyone up by being there. Did he really not belong? The teen pushed those depressing thoughts back as he watched Chris Argent pull out a folded paper from his jacket pocket, undid the creases made and extended it to Scott who stood stiffly beside Stiles and Allison.
Scott took the page and glanced over its content. Stiles read over his shoulder out loud.
"Cabon County Family Massacred, Children Missing. What is this?" Stiles looked up from a graphic black and white photo of blood splatters on a mundane wall with a raised eyebrow.
"That," Argent began, pointing to the article, "is them. That is their work."
Stiles read on silently with a heavy block of dread on his chest. The adults in the home, a mother, and a father were shot in the head with bullets that happened to be pure silver as described in the article. Relatives close to the family state that the couple had adopted two kids of the age of ten and those kids were now missing. There was no trace of their blood in the carnage and no evidence pointing to a suspect. The attack was so unexpected that there were no leads; the case was already turning cold even though it occurred only a week prior.
"The children—" Scott starts off and Argent finishes his speculation.
"—were inherent werewolves, yes." The older man says gravely, eyes darkened with grave thoughts.
"They…killed children?" Allison spoke up in disbelief, her eyes widening at the prospect.
"And these people, they were humans. Why kill them?" Stiles asked through the sick feeling rising in his gut. These people were monsters.
Argent sighed, "Mercy is not an option for these men. You harbor their kind, you die. You're a werewolf, you suffer. And then you die. It's a clear message of intolerance. The silver bullet in a human being's skull is that message."
Stiles imagined being one of those humans staring deep into the barrel of a hunter's gun just for helping Derek. He couldn't fight off the chill that ran its course through his spine.
Scott spoke up again, "This happened in Montana almost a week ago. They should be here by now."
Nodding, Argent went on. "This was not the only case. I have picked up on several murders and disappearances similar to the one in Montana and every one of them leads a trail back to Michigan. This isn't a coincidence. And yes, the last article I found that resembled these attacks was situated in Nevada; these hunters should be in California by now." Chris Argent sneered as the word 'hunters' left his lips, his hatred of the men was undeniable.
"What do we do now? Obviously waving a white flag and explaining there is a huge misunderstanding is out of the question." Stiles felt quite certain that there was no way to escape this confrontation without bloodshed.
Argent looked at a silent as stone and just as stoic Derek Hale before addressing the small group.
"Well, before we all arrived I had a chat with Mr. Hale here and it's been decided that if we catch wind of these hunters at all, we shall discard of them as discreetly as possible. But for now I need all of you to just keep your heads down and to not draw attention to yourselves. Now being a hunter myself, I know these men will stay as long as needed to find where werewolves reside. Keeping track of the moon cycles, I know the full moon will shine in a week. The closer it gets, the more animalistic your kind becomes. This will make it easier for a hunter to find you if they're in the vicinity." Chris looked pointedly at the youngest werewolf in attendance and Scott looked back defiantly.
"If you get the urge to howl at the moon, I strongly suggest you take up residence in that cellar until the urge dies down. Other than that, I want all underage parties to go on living a normal life." Argent looked to his daughter who looked ready to disagree but nodded, then to Scott who definitely wanted to disagree but stopped when Allison's hand grabbed his, and lastly to Stiles who couldn't affirm or disaffirm his agreement. He looked away instead. Argent still didn't understand Derek's predicament and there was no way he was sharing that with a hunter, honorable or not.
"Now that I have effectively cautioned all involved, I expect everyone to heed my advice. These extremists are no joke. They will kill you for supporting or loving a werewolf. Keep your eyes open and report to me of any strange new faces in town. I'll take my leave now." Argent nodded his departure to Hale who returned the gesture and the older man took long strides to the door.
Allison smiled small at Stiles, "Be careful, Stiles." Her hand that held Scott's slipped from their connection as she started forward and Scott's feet didn't follow. She turned to give her boyfriend a questioning look and Scott answered.
"Just give me a moment, I'll be out in a sec."
Looking from Scott to Stiles then back to Scott, Allison nodded and drifted through the front door, leaving it open. Stiles should've known that not much stays secret between the hunter's daughter and Scott. She most likely knew everything that was going on between the three of them. He didn't know if he should feel angry about it or not. He was too preoccupied to care.
The tension built to the ceiling as the three were left alone in the slowly darkening home, Stiles had a hard time looking at either of the werewolves.
Scott cleared his throat in preparation to speak, "I just uh, wanted to say to you that I'm sorry I didn't call you when I found out about this. I just want what's best for you."
Stiles tried to lighten up as a mutual peace offering, "You know, for someone who is the same age, you shouldn't be spouting mommy phrases at me."
His best friend laughed slightly; it was more than Stiles had received in a couple of days from the younger werewolf.
"I know. I just want to do all that I can to keep someone I care about alive." Stiles knew he meant every word and smiled.
"I get that." Stiles gently patted Scott's deltoid and that was enough to appease the werewolf for now. Scott nodded and made his way to cross the threshold but turned back around when he didn't hear Stiles following behind.
Stiles smiled tightly, "I'm staying behind."
There was a hint of defiance in his tone that left no room for argument. Scott looked unsure what to do. Stiles made the decision for him.
"Go bring Allison home. I have to talk to Derek…alone."
Scott looked from his best friend to Derek and Stiles looked at Derek. The silent man was as unreadable as ever.
Scott held back the urge to share his objection to this and gave one last scathing look at the alpha before closing the door behind him. It didn't take long to hear car doors slam and an engine turn on before Allison's and Scott's departure from the Hale property. But during that time Stiles' body become so stiff from nerves, he could barely recall to breathe. The two were alone now.
Derek finally graced the walls with his breathy voice, "He thinks I'll attack you as soon as his back is turned."
Stiles snorted, his body slowly thawing from its rigidity, "But I know differently…"
The teen faced the alpha who already had his vintage green eyes upon him.
"So…I guess you know that Scott knows what's going on with you. Sorry about that." Stiles knew he was responsible for Derek's secret getting out.
Derek gave a resigned sigh, the most emotion Stiles had seen from the older man that night.
"He paid me a visit as soon as he found out what we've been up to, I believe. He saw that you got injured and was justifiably livid. But he told me everything I already knew. Things that my mind has been shouting at me from the night you fell asleep in the woods: this is reckless and dangerous. I could hurt you…" Derek's frown grew heavier, "…And I have."
The shame that graced Derek's face as his eyes were cast downward made Stiles feel the warmth of his own embarrassment creeping up on his cheeks.
"When have you ever hurt me?" Stiles asked incredibly and stepped closer to the larger man. Derek stepped back.
"Last night I—"
"I recall what happened last night with a clarity that has me almost back in the moment and nobody was crying out in pain." They were already breaching the topic of last night's occurrence. Here goes nothing…or everything.
"No. The moment you set eyes on me today, I heard your heart. You're afraid of me—as you should be!" Derek growled out loudly and a swift fist punched the fire licked railing of the stairs. A small beam on the railing snapped easily from the force and the jarring sound filled the foyer. Stiles jumped but didn't hesitate in his approach on the distraught man. Grabbing Derek's steel tight fist to stop the werewolf's attempt at ruining an already broken home, Stiles yelled, "Listen to me you self-conscious idiot! My heart didn't skip because I'm scared of you, it's because I love you god dammit!"
The yell had carried through the cavity of the house, echoing shortly the irritated and slightly anxious tone of his voice. Derek directed his gaze to Stiles who was sporting a shocked look on his face. Did he really just say the "L" word? He totally meant "like" like! Something in those green eyes changed and it wasn't the color. That emotion made Stiles feel like he was back in his bedroom with Derek pinning him to the wall. Stiles dropped his hold on the older man but Derek reconnected them by pulling at Stiles' forearm; forcing the teen closer until his smaller body was flush against Derek's clothed front and feeling the taller man's respirations against his own.
"You love me?" Derek asked but studied Stiles' brown eyes for the answer. It was hard to form a functioning thought much less a reply as Derek's body heat seeped through and found his skin, turning him into a limp noodle.
His eyelids fluttered and struggled to stay open as he forced himself to look back up at the werewolf and parted his lips, "I—"
Derek interrupted with his lips firmly pressed to Stiles' lips. His eyes didn't deny the surprise he felt. Derek was kissing him. Derek's own eyes were steadily open but were relaxed and calmly gauging the teen's reaction. The werewolf angled his head and moved his lips, deepening the connection of their mouths. Stiles hand shot up to twist in the fabric of Derek's nice shirt at his rib cage and moaned; the sound was softly muted by Derek's unwavering onslaught and Stiles let his eyes fall shut. He couldn't deny how the contents of his head suddenly became as light as air or that how much he was enjoying his first kiss ever. It felt amazing. He loved how Derek held him and how he clung to Derek as the man continued to kiss him. He didn't mind that the activities from last night didn't resurface and just enjoyed Derek's harsh hot exhalations on his wet lips. Stiles didn't want it to stop but as that thought passed, Derek retracted until an inch separated their mouths. Stiles fought open his eyelids and looked from Derek's lips to the turmoil of those now ruby eyes.
"You shouldn't love me." Derek spoke in a heavy voice, one that held his arousal and dread.
Stiles couldn't recant that word and knew he really didn't want to after that kiss. The arm that resided around the small of Derek's back tightened its hold.
"But I do." He said in his own aroused voice. That time his heart didn't stutter or skip but kept lugging blood through his body at a strong fast pace.
Derek growled and his upper lip rose and showed off a fang Stiles hadn't laid eyes on in weeks. Derek had completely loosened his hold on the teen, making Stiles shiver in the cool dark space of the house. Stiles dropped his hold on Derek's now creased shirt and regarded the werewolf with a questioning look.
"What's the matter?"
Derek turned his back to the inquisitive teen, his back heaving from the strong breaths he was taking.
"I want you to leave." Derek said through ragged breaths, his hand clutched the nearest wall to support his weight and Stiles could see in the little light that was left that his claws had resurfaced as well. He didn't understand.
"No, I don't want to leave." Stiles walked the small distance Derek had put between them and laid a palm on the man's hunched over shoulder blade.
"Leave!" Derek whipped around and barked the order in Stiles' face. The human could only withstand so much and gave into a slight fear, backing up out of the living room and into the foyer. Derek kept him moving backwards until his back hit the door. There was a look of rage behind the fire in the werewolf's eyes that Stiles could not comprehend. What was driving Derek to do this?
"Why are you doing this?" Stiles asked weakly, a pain in his chest grew as that hardened look on Derek's face never lifted.
"Because you are a weight that I can't bear any longer! You're driving me insane and I want it to stop. I'm tired of your persistency, and you coming here every day, pushing my limits of control. I'm a monster that hasn't tasted human blood yet but it seems like you want me to cross that line and take your life. Is that what you want? To die? Do you want me to rip into your body and bite into your heart while it still beats? I want to kill you, do you understand?" The entire time, Stiles couldn't get a word in edgewise and every attempt grew less vehement as the meaning of Derek's words set in. This was Derek's response to his love? It was as he feared wasn't it? That everything would be thrown out of balance by his confession and he'd go back to being completely alone.
Derek laughed harshly and Stiles had to look away from the dark site of a man who was more animal than human, "Priceless. You love me. You love a monster. You love me when I'd love to see your entrails. How comical is that?"
Stiles winced and swallowed thickly, "Then what's stopping you from killing me?"
Derek used his claw to anchor up Stiles' chin until the teen had no choice but to look into those cold eyes that resembled the eyes of Peter Hale.
"Because I like it here. Killing you isn't worth being displaced." Derek explained evenly. Stiles felt like throwing up. Stiles gasped as a hand roughly grasped the neckline of his shirt and pulled him off the door. The door was ripped open and Stiles registered the sound of the metal hinges falling to the floor from the unnatural force exerted on it. The teen was flung out onto the veranda, his feet not catching him as he tumbled down the stairs and onto the brown dirt of the front yard.
Stiles looked blearily up at the werewolf who looked down on him with the eyes of someone who didn't recognize the scum below him.
"Never come back here or I'll just have to make an exception and bleed you dry. I'll just have to kill every hunter that comes for me as well. It's not like they can stop me." Derek walked back inside and shut the door by its remaining hinges, the glass panels that Stiles remembered replacing in the door's face shattering on impact and raining down. Stiles immediately heard Derek's yell that turned into growls behind that door. He couldn't see him anymore but heard next his dreadful roar. The teen's heart sunk as the inner contents of the house were thrown and ripped apart. It sounded as if a tornado was birthed inside those walls. An object Stiles didn't bother identifying came flying out of a newly replaced window pane and onto the lawn and that got the teen to his feet; his legs automatically carrying him to his jeep as Stiles heaved the air in and out of his lungs.
He was truly and purely frightened.
Shakily, he finally got his key to fit into the ignition after a few failed attempts and started the vehicle. Dirt and rocks kicked up wildly from the spinning tires as the gas pedal was pressed firmly to the floor, and Stiles peeled out of the grove, a full out howl followed his departure.
There was a statement replaying through his mind that echoed like a bad memory which crossed the ages as his powerful legs carried him farther into the untamed woods. He was recklessly dashing through the trees with no inhibitions clouding his already haunted brain. He hit a maturely aged pine with his left flank and the tree stood no chance, breaking sharply at the base and came raining down. A thunderous sound filled the chilled night air as the branches and trunk connected with the forest floor, and erupted the surrounding ground into small quakes from the impact before everything went still once more. He continued to fly through the vastness of this forest, heart racing under his pelt and breathing uneven from the exertion. He hit more trees and all bowed to his barbarism; he dodged their avenging limbs as they came down around him and knew he was close. So close. He didn't slow down until the very lip of the chasm came into site. He leaped down into the deep dark abyss willingly and gracefully hit the new level of the forest floor.
His red eyes took in the ground below him as he remembered that day with a forlornness taking up residence in his chest. He had been made aware of his love for another being that day. How long has it been since he could think of someone fondly and held them dear?
Chris Argent's words replayed again from the conversation that took place before McCall and the youngest Argent arrived.
"It's fortunate in a way that you are alone, Hale. They cannot hurt any more innocent people."
Derek howled to the canopy above.
An: Wow. So I believe this is my biggest chapter yet. Again, I prostrate myself in your presence for the late late late! chapter and hope you enjoyed it. I get so giddy thinking of Derek's and Stiles' first kiss. EEEEE! Sorry for the myriad of mistakes riddled in this chapter. Review and stick around for chapter 10!