Dutiful Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.
An AUish Sterek oneshot where Stiles is metaphorically still a curious cat and Derek is literally still a werewolf.
The first thing this guy does after revving up to the house in his shiny black car (Compensating? No- the way that man looked made all other men feel like they need to compensate) was put up curtains. As in meticulously hanging up dark, danky black shades in every window.
Who does that?
Grant-it, who the hell sneaks out early on a Saturday morning to watch someone move in? So this mysterious must-be-a-model was down the street from Stiles (and down the woods and over a stream). And the teenager only had to vault from his second-floor window, nearly costing him a lacrosse-season that looked like it would never be, and then across a few backyards (ok, eight to be exact) and then almost-fall into previously mentioned babbling brook. Which sounded a lot more like nature laughing than babbling peacefully.
But really, this guy just slinks out of his car, sunglasses already on (Aviators- really? How can he pull that off), before he's in the decrepit place and baracading his precious rotting walls from sunlight. Not like there was any peeping toms around Beacon Hills. Well, other than spying Stiles, but he didn't swing for that team.
So usually Stiles would be sleeping in on a precious day free from his best-friend now-werewolf's angst ridden teenage love. But of course Sheriff Stilinksi jut had to bring out this folder last night and Stiles had been instantly hooked.
Not from the guy's face or anything from the mug shot, as it was actually impossible to see with that weird lenses-flare that even his Dad couldn't explain. Except Stiles had an inkling as to why - Scott's eyes did that as well now. He'd only known about it from Allison complaining about how impossible it was for them to have a nice picture, but- this was something.
Stiles didn't believe in consequences anymore. Not since coming to the odd-awareness that werewolves were very real. And very dangerous.
Scott turned into a furry-faced growling machine now since being turned roughly two weeks ago. And this supposed criminal (It was discovered he wasn't responsible for the murder of nearly his entire family - go him!) suddenly decided to move back into his desolate mansion in the woods.
Some furry business was going on. Even if Stiles didn't have super-heightened senses, he could smell when something was off.
Stiles hummed as the man - Derek Hale, that was the name on the folder - raised his arms to reveal a slip of midriff. Yes, well, hello there treasure trail, I'm sure there is some prizes you're leading to - stop! Not gay! His father had told him so and you listen to higher federal authority.
And then the man was suddenly looking at him, as if he could see the teenager through the bush, and shit his eyes were definitely glowing blue and-
Maybe it was time for Stiles to get going. Not like he couldn't defend his skinny self with only a pair of binoculars and a half charged phone (not to mention his manly physic), but he'd rather not take the so-so chance.
He was sure werewolves were mean.
As Derek took a step away from his all-important curtains closer to the window, as if to see a better view of Stiles, the teenager turned tail and ran.
Stiles came back a few days later, although this time he didn't hide behind shurbbary. And he was armed with freshly baked muffins.
Derek opened the door and didn't even bother looking at the younger man, instead focusing on the baked goods with a twitching nose. When he finally decided to grace Stiles with his gaze (oh wow - were his eyes green or blue? Oh, maybe they were glasz - yeah, that was the word), he only raised an eyebrow. As if expecting Stiles to give an in-depth description of why he was at his doorframe, worrying about whether this house might collapse on top of him.
"What?" the teenager started intelligently. "Like a guy can't bring another guy delicious baked goods? I'm set with my masculinity and you so clearly are, too, with your no shirt and hairy-" Stiles stopped himself before the stranger's ocean eyes really set him on fire. And not in a good way.
"Working out," the man practically, no, literally growled out.
"Well I'm just doing my good Samaritan neighbor duty of welcoming you. With muffins. Because anytime is muffin time." Stiles should have worn his 'Stud Muffin' shirt; it would have made the moment even greater. But then maybe it would've looked like he'd been trying too hard. Not like waking up to bake before school wasn't just what every normal high-schooler did.
Derek looked around to the trees, the only thing bordering his house for at least a mile until it was the nearest house. Which Stiles knew wasn't his.
"Ok, so I'm not really your neighbor-neighbor, but I live... close. Enough," he finished not-so-smoothly.
Leaning in from the door frame, the man who looked like he'd dropped off of an Abercrombie-and-Fitch bag sniffed. But it wasn't Stiles' perfectly baked concoction that he has his nose turned up to. No, it was Stiles himself. Him.
"You are with the new werewolf."
Ok, double what. No, tripple what as in how did he make a question sound like a statement?
"Well, 'with' as in best friend since diapers but not 'with' as in together together," Stiles said, wishing he wasn't holding this tray so he could use legitimate air-quotes instead of just stressing at their presence.
"Has anyone ever told you to shut-up?"
"Oh, everyday without fail. Constantly," Stiles said as he laughed heartily without warning. "There's this teacher, Mr. Harris, who-"
"What's his name?" the other asked, successfully cutting Stiles off.
"Scott McCall," Stiles said, only to realize in blatant horror he'd just given his best friend away to some stranger. Although, if he could pick up Scott's scent on him, it wouldn't take long for him to track the actual teenager down. And sure, those abs deserved to be answered but- Scott was his best friend.
There was only a grunt, Stiles not sure if it was an admission to the information or thanks, or even a good-hearted warning, before the door was shut in his face.
"You never asked my name," Stiles muttered dejectedly as he stared down at his merrily orange pumpkin muffins. Unravished and unloved just like Stiles at the moment. Oh life, what a cruel mistress.
The door swung open and Stiles felt his neck snap up to look into those every-changing eyes again.
"Derek," he snarled before the werewolf grabbed the muffins and slammed the door harder then before. Stiles almost felt bad for the door - but it was an inanimate object. It could cope. Unlike his heart that felt it might implode any second.
"Odd choice to guess, but no," Stiles said as he heard a loud growl from inside.
"It's Stiles! With an 'i' as in incredible, ingenious, impossibly- never mind. This alliteration is lost on monosyllable you."
There was another growl, but this time it sounded like Derek had something in his mouth. Like he was eating the pumpkin muffins.
Stiles smirked before skipping to his jeep and heading to school. Maybe this Monday wouldn't be as soul-sucking as it usually was.
Scott's nose twitched and Stiles heard him sniff as they rumbled up the mud drive-way to the dilapidated house. After taking to Scott for a few days, Stiles had finally worn him down to agreeing to visit Derek. For some reason Scott didn't believe just because he'd eaten Stiles' muffins ("Yeah, but your baking is good. It's not like a person's appreciation in muffins means they have good morals!") that another encounter would end as well.
But it couldn't be helped with the full moon approaching and Scott nearly loosing it in practice today. Even his bone-headed persona could admit he needed to learn more control. Especially with Allison around. Because even if she liked it when he - Stiles had cut him off there. Best friend but still. Living vicariously through his friend was a thin line from voyeurism and he was not that desperate yet. And just for the record, spying on Derek does not count as voyeurism. Nope.
They arrived and Stiles had just put the jeep in park, only to see Derek waiting for them on the porch. Sharp body leaning against one of the rails and somehow managing to look dejected and bored already even if they had just arrived.
He didn't say a word as the two teenagers approached, only motioned for them to follow with a tilt of his head.
They sat on a couch and Stiles had to resist the urge to scratch Scott behind the ear to calm him down. It seemed that being in the presence of an older, stronger werewolf was making him on edge. He would have to arrange more playdates.
Derek then waved his hand, communicating again without words for them to go on. And so Scott did.
He told about how he'd just been in the woods with Stiles and suddenly there was pain and he saw the bite, only to wake and see it gone. How his senses had heightened and he was now the star in lacrosse (Derek snorted at that). And then onto how he at first could barely hold it together, but then slowly began to gain control so his claws didn't come out at every little instance. But how he was worried he still wouldn't be ready for the moon.
"Stiles is great, he's helped me through the whole thing. I would have wolfed out completely and given myself away without him," Scott gushed like Stiles was his first crush. "Everyone needs a Stiles," the young wereweolf added with a wide smile.
Derek raised an eyebrow and for the first time looked at Stiles.
"W-Well, it wasn't too hard. Lots of research and energy drinks, and the idea of an anchor was easy. Just like for addicts or compromised people, they need something to hang onto. And when you see him and Allison together it's just painfully obvious," he spilled out quickly.
Derek grunted before turning back to Scott and ordering him to say what he could and could not do. If Stiles was any good at reading people, he would say that Derek was surprised at how much control the teenager held over his wolf as Scott continued to ramble.
"So you bit me?" Scott asked after a pregnant silence, since he had finished paraphrasing his no-longer-only-human life.
Stiles resisted the urge to give himself a face-palm at the blatantness of his best friend. Sure, Stiles never stopped having questions himself, but he didn't just blurt them out like bad pick-up lines.
"No, that was my uncle. A rogue Alpha," Derek said slowly.
"So that's why you returned," Stiles said suddenly, connecting the obvious dots.
"Yes, I must put him down."
Stiles winced at the statement. To compare his uncle to that of a sick dog that couldn't live without pain - like Derek was being gracious by offering to kill him. Stiles shivered.
"And I need your assisstance," he continued as he looked at Scott, eyes glowing that eerie blue again. "I cannot do it alone."
"Why should I help?" Scott squawked in indignation.
"Other than Allison is a hunter and maybe if you help her family with this they won't think of you so much as an enemy, but an ally? You know, enemy or my enemy is my friend and all that?" Stiles explained quickly. "Or maybe how this guy could tear you, and me, a new one if you don't? Come on, do it for your Stiles."
Scott huffed and crossed his arms, clearly annoyed at the situation.
"You were the one who wanted to see that stupid deer," Scott grumbled.
"And I'm the one whose helping your furry little ass survive now," Stiles said back sweetly.
"The pup is right," Derek stated blankly.
"I am not a pup!" Stiles complained, but shut up from a glare. He crossed his arms and looked cross to mirror Scott.
"You need training. You will meet me here everyday after your sports practice."
"It's called lacrosse and I can't just-"
"You can. And you will," Derek said, eyes flashing again. Scott growled low, but nodded his head after a few moments of tense silence.
"Now, get out," Derek said politely as he got up and left the room, leaving the two teens to stare blankly at where he'd just disappeared on a moth-eaten couch.
"He is so not as jolly as a jolly rancher like you described him," Scott mumbled as they walked back to the jeep.
"No, he's more of a Warhead. A sour wolf really," Stiles said as he ran a hand over his buzz-cut, snorting at his metaphor.
"Makes you pucker your lips at the bad taste and everything," Scott continued to joke, chuckling as he opened the door and got in.
"Yeah, pucker your lips-" Stiles said and stopped at his door, shaking his head to rid anymore thoughts at that statement.
Stiles had already reversed and just moved the gear stick into 'D' when he looked up and gasped at Derek at his window. He knocked and Stiles hesitantly rolled down the glass.
The dark-haired werewolf handed over his muffin tray, clean and without a crumb left, before turning back to his house. Still no words, not even any eyecontact. Stiles didn't know if he was indifferent or just socially awkward.
"Give me a warning next time, dude!" Stiles said to Scott as he looked at the six-compartmentalized pan with wide eyes.
Scott didn't give him an answer, only furrowed his eyebrows at the tray and then Stile's erratic heartbeat.
"Well, pick you up from werewolf-daycare in a few hours then-"
"Oh, you are so not leaving me alone with him."
"Oh, worried about keeping your chastity intact? I could have sworn you'd bragged about how Allison had shattered that weeks ago-"
"You. Are. Coming."
"Alright, alright, no need to ignore proper sentence structure for me," Stiles said with a sigh as he turned the key and cut the engine off. It wasn't like his Dad wouldn't be back in a while anyway, and he had loads of homework to do. Although maybe werewolf training would be too exciting to look away from.
Turned out it wasn't. All Derek had Scott doing was meditating in the woods. Like he was training to become a peaceful-monk and not control his inner beast.
"Oh, I am so jealous of your werewolf skills right now," Stiles said under his breath from the porch as he watched Derek circle Scott's sitting position. Stiles couldn't hear anything being said, so decided to dig right into his dense and dumb chemistry homework.
He finished that and was working on his Calculus when he heard the floorboards creek and as Derek walked up the few stairs.
"Scott having some alone time now?"
"He needs to focus," Derek answered easily as he sat down aside of Stiles. Which made the teenager oggle at Derek for a moment before turning back to his equations.
His bafflement only increased a few moments later as Derek grabbed Stiles' backpack and sniffed lightly before opening it up. The teenager was about to argue in some way at the blatant invasion of space (or that if he was looking for drugs like some security dog Stiles was fresh out), but then Derek seemed to find whatever he'd been rummaging for as his eyebrows perked up.
Pulling out the bag of peanut-butter cookies, he didn't even ask before eating an entire one in one bite. He inhaled two more before taking his time on the third. And then forth.
"Uh, if I hadn't seen your fitness from the no-shirtness I would be concerned about your eating habbits," Stiles said, not being able to look away as the werweolf gorged himself.
Derek gave him a glare, but it wasn't as intimidating as usual with crumbs around his mouth.
"Really, you can just ask," Stiles said in amusement. "I could take a request."
Derek chose to not speak, and instead stuffed another cookie into his mouth. They sat like that, Stiles' pencil scratching on the paper, Derek crunching on his homemade cookies, and Scott sitting on the edge of the forest. He honestly looked more constipated then concentrated, but Stiles wouldn't dare critique Derek's teaching.
After completing his math, and then history reading (which Stiles felt like Derek was reading as well, with his breath so close and huffing in annoyance when Stiles turned a page, like he hadn't finished reading it), Derek stood up and barked at Scott to get back here.
Stiles gathered his things, including the empty plastic bag with not a crumb left inside it, as Derek gave Scott some more instructions. The older werewolf was confident that although the full moon was only next week, he would be alright. Which Stiles thought was a huge compliment coming from Derek.
Derek who had eaten now his muffins and cookies without so much as a 'thank you.' Although, the teenager considered it a compliment enough that he inhaled the food and didn't tease Stiles about doing such a domestic, girly thing.
Stiles would think from the first time Derek had suddenly been by his window he would be ready for it. Apparently he wasn't, as he flailed and head another heart-attack at the broody man standing there, waiting for the window to be rolled down.
"I like lemon."
Stiles blinked as Scott said, "Good for you?"
Derek gave the younger a glower, which made Scott meep and shut up, before turning back to Stiles. And did his eyes soften, or was Stiles just hallucinating, because did big-bad werewolf just admit to liking a sunny citrus?
"Lemon. Got it," Stiles finally got out after Derek stared at him expectantly for what felt like forever.
His eyes glowed and he smirked lightly before walking back to the house.
Stiles let out a breath of relief, ignoring Scott's curious look and how he glanced back to look at Derek, before he put the car in drive and took off.
"Do you even eat before this today?" Stiles asked in amazement as Derek tore into the lemon pound cake like it'd personally wronged him. He'd already eaten twelve poppy-seed lemon muffins, and Stiles was worried if he gave him the lemon custards the poor wolf would get sick.
In hindsight, maybe making all of this seemed a little obsessive, but he had finished all of his homework and he had nothing else to really do. Well, that's a lie. There's always more porn to discover in the fertile internet archives.
"No," Derek said around a mouthful. "I don't have time."
"Don't have time to fulfill one of your most basic necessities to continue on being. Huh. Yeah, you're a real sharp one."
Derek rolled his eyes, which Stiles took as an improvement from the fire-lighting glaring.
"I have to find my uncle before he hurts anyone else."
"Wait, wait, your uncle is the rabid Alpha?" Stiles asked as his stomach dropped to toes.
Derek gave him a glance before cutting another slice of pound cake with a nail. It was enough of an affirmation.
"I-" Stiles started and gulped. "I'm sorry, man."
"It's not your fault in the slightest."
"No wonder you ravish my baking so enthusiastically. You need some sort of comfort."
Derek gave a sneeze-cough like thing around the thick slice, and if Stiles knew any better, he would have called it a laugh. But this man was obviously incapable of laughter. You don't get a body and face like that without first selling your humanity to some higher, demonic overlord. Or that's what Stiles chose to believe or else, fuck world! Unfair!
"Next time I'll bring you a sandwich or something," Stiles said offhandedly, trying to ignore how he sounded like a nagging mother.
Derek gave a soft growl of acknowledgement before another bite, and Stiles bit his lip to say anything. Like how he knew what it was like to feel alone, and that he really wasn't anymore because he could rely on Stiles for food and badly-timed jokes. Although with the crazy uncle - he doubted he could exactly help with that. Scott, who was balancing on one leg on a split log with the other half balancing on his head - he could help with that. Yet at the moment it looked like he could use help himself.
It was only on Friday night, the night before the full moon, when his Dad asked where all the food in the fridge was going ("Because even I know you don't use carrots and salami for baking.") did Stiles realize the new routine.
Of going to Derek's after school, where Scott was now more enthusiastic as the full moon approached. Sure, it was only a weeks time that they'd spent time at the house, but the creaky, water-ruined boards were already comfortable for Stiles.
And if possible, Derek didn't always seem tense. Sometimes his shoulders would drop and his eyebrows wouldn't look like they were at war with his face, and he looked somewhat peaceful.
Stiles mostly talked as he did his homework, but he got some information out of Derek. Like how he was so close to capturing his uncle, but he would need Scott's help to finish him off. How he had missed his house (although Stiles could read between the words and know how he missed his family). How he wished Stiles would stop bringing him healthy food and just more sugar-loaded treats. And that yes, Derek could eat chocolate, so stop not making him chocolate chip cookies!
But this short vacation was going to be short-lived. Because tonight was the full moon and Stiles wouldn't be coming to Derek's today. The werewolf had ordered him to stay indoors, to not go into the woods for any reason. Tonight he and Scott would be taking on his uncle, the Alpha.
Regardless, Stiles finally made those chocolate-chip cookies. And the next morning he gave them to Scott, who gave a funny little smirk before getting into his more-of-a-pile-of-shit car than Stiles' and driving off.
Leaving the teenager to mope around in his room until it was time to cook dinner for him and his Dad. Thankfully his remaining parent didn't have work tonight, a small miracle in this world. After that, his Dad said he'd do the dishes and shooed him away to play video games, because it was Friday night.
So here was Stiles now, starring at his ceiling and wondering what he was doing with his life. Not for the first time, he felt a pang of jealousy for Scott and his new found powers. He was out there saving people from a big-bad wolf. That was why he was jealous. Not because he got to run with Derek as an equal. And not some half-baked baker who only supplied bare sustenance.
Because all human!Stiles could do right now was wait. Like he was a father in a delivery room. He groaned and rolled over and wished he had some sleeping medication. At least Nyquil. Moonrise was still a couple of hours away, regardless.
And then stiffened as he heard a loud howl, and then the yelp of what sounded like another wolf.
Nope, that wasn't ominous at all.
Another howl, this one lower but still weaker then the first. And definitely not from the second one; that one had a higher voice.
Just ignore it Stiles. Ignore-
Yet another howl. It sounded desperate.
Jumping up from his bed, Stiles nearly jumped out of his window before remembering some important things. Like a flashlight to see; a hoodie to not freeze; and some wolfs-bane to not die.
Suddenly thankful he had convinced Allison to steal a firearm from her Dad (and some of those dastardly bullets that he knew would make any werewolf fall) he made sure the safety was still on before stuffing it down the back of his pants.
He swung out of his windowsill and climbed carefully down just like he'd done barely two weeks ago to spy on Derek for the first time. That felt like months, years ago now. Now that said man was probably dying with his best friend.
He barreled through the backyards, barely escaping a few dogs (although all they were doing was quivering in their kennels from the howls), and made it to the forest already out of breath. Really, he needed to stop just sitting on the bench and at least run laps or something. Without hesitation he pushed onto into the forest, flashlight in one hand and gun in the other. If he wasn't so scared for the two werewolves and whether he might be too late or not he would feel like a badass.
Stiles knew he should have fought harder with Derek about letting him join. But the werewolf had made it crystal clear ("If you come you won't have to worry about Peter because I will have already ripped out your throat. With my teeth.") and Scott had agreed as well.
Not that it had helped, as Stiles was already rushing into the heart of the battle with just some herb-infused bullets to protect his fragile self.
It didn't seem like he'd run for very long when he came upon a smattering of cracked pines. Their thick trunks lay splintered all around, the ground torn up with deep gouges into the earth made from what looked suspiciously like giant claws.
And then there were the splotches of blood across some trunks that had Stiles' heart and trigger-finger tightening.
Now creeping forward quietly, he tried to quiet his pants as he looked around. Flashlight and gun positioned together, he felt ready. He could hear his heartbeat pounding from the run, smell the rusty smell of blood-
He was still unprepared for the deafening roar behind him.
Turning in a flurry that had his hood dropping from his head, Stiles gaped at the beast before him. Blood-red eyes and blood-red claws. And blood-red fangs as its mouth opened to reveal rows of teeth.
"Oh fuck," Stiles whispered as the creature took a step forward and gave another earth-shaking roar.
It was enough to snap Stiles out of his awe-struck state to remember he had the poison and the gun that could kill this beast that definitely wasn't either Derek or Scott. It could only be the mad Alpha.
He took aim.
For a moment he was back at the firing range his Dad brought him to when he was younger. When he was skinnier and even more awkard at the tender age of twelve. His hands wouldn't stop twitching and his Mother was against him holding a firearm, but then the tremors stopped whenever he shot. So his Dad kept taking him and he kept shooting and getting bullseyes.
This creature's glowing-red eyed head was nothing but a paper target.
Stiles took a breath as the wolf-creature started running towards him.
And he pulled the trigger.
Only to remember he had yet to take the safety off.
Fumbling like a fool and cursing like a sailor, Stiles had just enough time to pull the safety back when a blur rammed itself into the creature and sent it sprawling into a nearby pine.
"Stiles you idiot!" Derek snapped as he panted and held his side. Stiles wanted to comment, but then saw the blood and the gaping hole where some of Derek's organs should be instead.
Not that he had much time to comment on it, as the Alpha was up and had decided Derek was a better opponent than 147 pound Stiles.
Stiles took aim again, now knowing it would work, but now Derek and the thing were snarling and gnashing at each other and he couldn't shoot. Because while Derek was a much smaller beast and looked only half-transformed to the giant thing, Stiles couldn't shoot. Not with the knowledge that he might hit Derek.
"Derek, move!" Stiles ordered as he kept his hand steady.
He saw the glow of the blue lights even in the flashlight's light, but then Derek was snarling and turning back to attacking the other werewolf's throat.
"Move or I'll never bake a single cookie for you ever again!"
It was on the fly, but it worked, as Derek suddenly flipped back and it was once again only Stiles and the Alpha.
He took another breath to steady him and exhaled as he pulled and let the bullet fly. Straight into the creature's chest, to the left where Stiles assumed its heart would be.
The thing stared at disbelief before it gave a howl and was down, seeming to crumple in on itself before Derek was on it. With a flash of his claws and a sick 'thump' Stiles knew the creature was done. Not many things could get its head cut off and then continue living. Other then chickens and cockroaches, but that was not relevant to the current supernatural beings present.
Because this fight was done. And Stiles had been the push to finish it off.
He heard the ragged breathing of Derek first before he was suddenly at Stile's side, his face contorting to resemble the Derek Stiles knew more. The one who had that childish tendency to lick his fingers and claws clean when he really liked something. Only now it looked like he needed to lick his wounds, from the amount of blood it looked like he had lost and was still loosing.
"Where's Scott?" Stiles asked immediately as he moved forward to sling one of Derek's arms over his shoulder. The werewolf grunted, but didn't make any move to push Stiles away.
"He only got impaled on a pine."
"Only got impaled?" Stiles asked hysterically, feeling a panic attack coming on. Well, better late than never. He was almost thinking his body was offending him by not freaking out at the current circumstances.
"He's fine. Just-" he stopped to grunt as they began walking, "Just got stuck."
"That does sound like Scott," Stiles said with a chuckle. That turned into a laugh that had both of them swaying.
"I'm sorry it's just- adrenoline I guess. I just- Scott. Being a dumbass like always. Even when enhanced with werewolf abilities."
"I can still hear you!" came a faint voice.
"Good to know the training paid off!" Stiles said brightly.
Derek gave another cough, as if to hide his laugh at the irony of that statement. But the moment was quickly lost as he spit out what looked to be a good half-gallon blood. Right onto Stiles' shoes.
"Not cool," the teenager groaned, but didn't complain anymore as he continued hauling Derek towards Scott's direction. Maybe it would be smarter to leave the heavy man behind and come back for him, but Stiles was not letting Derek leave his sight. Stiles had just saved him, he was not going to loose all the investment he'd put in this man. Not to mention the hord of food.
"I can say this. It was definitely one of my more eventful Friday nights," Stiles said merrily as he moved an arm to encircle Derek's waist and set off again.
The werewolf only gave a weary moan.
Somehow (Stiles honestly doesn't know how) he managed to get both the werewolves into Derek's house. Where Derek ordered him to get back home because they were healing and just needed time and his Dad might send out a missing persons report for him soon enough. Clearly Derek did not want to deal with being an almost-criminal again.
So Stiles did grudgingly leave them there to come back to his house, where he managed to scuttle back up the side of his house (denting a gutter, dammit) and throw his blood stained, no, soaked, clothing into a bag and into the back of his closet to burn later. Then he took a shower, because it had even gotten into what little hair he had. Gross.
He barely had enough energy to throw on a pair of boxers before he was out like a light. Not even having enough strength to pull away his comforter.
So it was that position, half naked, face in a pillow and drooling without restraint, that Derek found him in. And rudely woke him up in, as he shouted Stiles' name and the teenager flailed off his bed with about as much grace as a newly-born waterbuffalo making its first steps.
"Derek! You're totally whole again!" Stiles said as he came up to the dark-haired man and felt his torso. Nope, no gashes or hanging-out organs to be felt.
"Yes, thank you," Derek said tightly, and it was only then that Stiles realized he had both hands up a man's shirt. And one hand had his palm against a nipple.
Not that they were strangers anymore, as in I-saved-your-life, but still. Stiles knew boundaries were meant to be broken, but maybe not at this moment. When he was half-naked and was half-sure he had morning wood.
Retracting his hands, Stiles gave a little laugh before launching himself across his room to throw on some jeans and a t-shirt. He could feel Derek's eyes as he threw the shirt over his shoulders and pulled down. Taking a breath, he finally turned around to meet that gaze.
"So, last night? Crazy stuff, huh?" Stiles asked as he rubbed his hair, wishing it was longer so at least he could be distracted by bed-head.
Derek gave a low hum of acknowledgement before turning his gaze from Stiles' face to look at the room around.
"Scott? Is he as healed and awake as you?"
"Healed, yes. Not as awake, it took more out of him," Derek answered.
"So it just looks like he had a rough night and has a hangover. Ok, good," Stiles said in relief as he sat back on his bed. "Well, not really good for him. His Mom is going to kill him."
"Is your Father going to kill you?"
"From stealing his gun?" Derek asked tersely.
"Oh, that. It's actually from the Argents. With wolfsbane bullets. Couldn't you smell that?"
"You had that around me?" Derek asked, clearly appalled.
"You seemed to listen to me when I threatened no sweets!" Stiles argued back.
"I-" Derek stopped and took a breath to calm himself. "I cannot believe you."
"Cannot believe you let a sixteen year old boy save you?"
Derek glowered and scowled before turning away, leather-clad arms crossing in annoyance.
"I just-" Stiles stopped himself and looked down at his bare feet abashedly before starting again. "I just didn't want you or Scott to die. Was that too much to ask?"
"It was clearly too much to ask for you to stay away," Derek said with a soft snort.
"Well, when you said so explicitly not to get involved, I had to do just that."
"Of course you did."
There was silence then, and Stiles blinked in wonderment if this was their longest conversation. Well, not longest (that tangent about the greatness of Lydia had definitely been longer than this) but Derek was actually communicated back. Not just clipped answers or sudden declarations out of no where.
"You can go now, if you want," Stiles ventured to say.
Derek raised an eyebrow.
"Unless you want breakfast."
Stiles tried to ignore how his ribs suddenly felt too small the right corner of Derek's lips hooked up and he left the room for the kitchen.
Curse his stupid color-changing eyes, that stupid jacket, that stupid stubble, that stupid ass, those stupid curtains. And curse above all how Stiles really couldn't ignore how he definitely was gay for this guy-
"Hurry up," Derek shouted, already downstairs and interrupting Stiles' revelation. "I'm hungry."
"Said the big, bad, heart-eating wolf," Stiles sighed as he rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He resisted the urge to flop back onto his back. It seemed he'd conquered one creature, only to have another take its place. The disgusting creature of attraction.
So take down a werewolf and get rewarded with another revelation of unrequited love. Again - fuck you world!
"I heard that!" Derek called. "And I can also hear your heart. But first, make breakfast."
Stiles blinked and decided maybe the world wasn't such a bad place, even with all the werewolves howling and running about.
AN: Hope you enjoyed and please review!