Little Red

By: Travel1701

Disclaimer: Hey there guys. :D Guess who's finally out of the hospital? This girl! XD Long story short: My immune system is a wuss and when other people get sick they're fine with staying home and relaxing, but when I get sick I have to go to the hospital to make sure I don't die. XP Great. Anyway, I'm still super tired from the wonderful (insert sarcasm here) hospital stay so this is more of a filler than an actually chapter but I felt so bad with making you guys wait. But don't worry. The next chapter will be better, promise. :D I'll never own Teen Wolf. Oh noes. :P Enjoy!

P.S: Hey lunarbeast15! Remember when I thought you were a girl? :D Well, you're not. So, a proper shout-out to lunarbeast15 for HIS betas. XD Sorry again love for thinking you were female.

(SterekSterekSterekSterekSter ek)

Chapter Four: Keep Calm and Let Stiles Cook

When Stiles woke up the next morning, the pack was still surrounding him on all sides, unconscious. The first thing he realized after that was that he'd fallen asleep in his clothes. Again. But hey, that was pretty much normal in the Hale home. Random puppy piles happened randomly after all. The living room held that fuzzy, soft morning feeling, making Stiles sleepy even though he'd just woken up. Yawning, he looked down at his pack and couldn't help but smile. Their positions had change somewhat during the night but again, that was normal.

Isaac had burrowed further into Stiles's side, as if he had been trying to crawl underneath him. Derek, meanwhile, was practically on top of him, head tucked in Stiles's shoulder and Scott was practically on top of Derek, reaching across him to grip onto Stiles's arm. Jackson, Lydia, Erica, and Boyd were all tangled into one big pile of limbs at his feet, with both of Scott and Derek's legs mixed up in the fray. Stiles held back the bubble of laughter at the absolutely adorable picture and wondered how he was going to escape, letting out another silent yawn. Granted, he loved puppy piles but it was morning time and mornings meant breakfast and Stiles's stomach was demanding pancakes. With butter and syrup. Oh, yes.

Frowning a bit, Stiles looked down at his pack and at how tangled he was. This was going to take some time. Through the use of slow movements and deep breathing to keep his heart calm, Stiles had managed to free both of his arms and legs from the pack before Derek shifted on his shoulder and looked up at him with one eye. "Mm?" the Alpha questioned wordlessly and Stiles just smiled and nodded his head towards the kitchen. Derek closed his eye but stayed put, obviously weighing in his options. On one hand, more sleep and non-cuddles with his Stiles , Lydia and, Erica could all call it whatever they wanted but no. No, it wasn't cuddling. Derek didn't cuddle. Period. But on the other hand, Stiles's cooking. Derek rumbled softly and the pack seemed to cuddle deeper into unconsciousness. Stiles rolled his eyes and gave Derek's head a gentle pat.

"Come on Sour Wolf," he whispered, starting to edge away. "You know how Jackson and Scott get when they're hungry. They'll bitch about it all day. And Boyd and Lydia are going to need their coffee and we are not going to buy another coffee machine just because they were too tired to remember that their wolfy powers can easily smash poor, defenseless coffee machines. Again."

Well, when you put it like that, what choice did Derek really have?

Letting out a soft huff, Derek lifted his head and allowed Stiles to get up and tiptoe his way into the kitchen. Derek watched him go, then settled back down and closed his eyes, feeling too content and relaxed from the security of his pack to really try to stay awake.

Shaking his head fondly, Stiles tiptoed into the kitchen… and just stopped and stared. The kitchen was a mess. Lifting a hand to rub at his forehead, Stiles held in a groan as he surveyed the damage. They'd all been so caught up with the rival pack last night that they'd all forgotten to clean up from training. Dirty plates were scattered over the counters, pans and trays were piled in the sink, bits of leftover food were still clinging to said trays and plates, and all Stiles wanted to do was crawl back into the puppy pile and forget that he'd ever saw the mess before him. Or wake the cubs up to make them clean up their own messes.

He let out a sigh and rolled up his sleeves, reaching out to collect the dirty dishes. He wouldn't make the cubs wake up just to clean. What kind of den mother would he be if he did that? 'Besides,' Stiles mused to himself as he collected the dishes. 'They were all panicked and freaked out last night about the other pack. I'd be a bigger douche than Jackson when he's having his "man-period" moments if I woke them up now.'

So, with another sigh and a smile, Stiles got to work. Or, rather, he would have gotten to work if he wasn't the most accident prone human being on the freaking planet. So caught up in his musing, Stiles failed to notice the ripped up, bloodied shirt that was waiting for him on the floor near the sink. No doubt it had been thrown to the ground by an overeager werewolf teenager. And apparently, it had a personal vendetta against Stiles. Probably because it had been Stiles's snacks that had made the shirt's owner cast it aside so ruthlessly. But come on! Stiles made the best werewolfy snacks around and it wasn't like he'd forced the shirt's owner throw it away in favor of delicious and nutritious treats. Stiles was innocent! Never the less, the shirt was out to get him.

It actually would have been funny, really, if it had happened to anyone else. Stiles's eyes grew wide and he let out a very manly yelp as the shirt lashed out and tangled itself around Stiles's feet, causing the teen to wobble comically for a moment before he toppled downward. The dishes he'd been carrying toppled along with him and they shattered, bits of plate scattering everywhere, as they hit the floor. Oddly enough, Stiles's only thought as he closed his eyes and braced for impact was, 'Why in the Hell did we buy porcelain plates?'

Holding out his hands to break his fall, Stiles let out another completely manly cry as he hit the ground, a shard of porcelain slicing into his left hand. Blood blossomed and ran sticky over his fingers and then suddenly, he was being pushed up against the fridge, a firm body holding him gently in place. Stiles instinctively wrapped his arms and legs around the warm body, holding on for stability. He let out a breath, taking a moment to try and calm his racing heart. Slowly, after a few seconds, he opened his eyes. Then his eyes grew wider.

Derek was above him, eyes red and face completely wolfed out as he held him in place, his hands wrapped around Stiles's thighs and yep, those were his claws spread out across Stiles's lower back. He was panting, mouth opened with his fangs out for all to see, his eyes locked onto the spot above Stiles's head. A quick glance around the kitchen soon revealed that the entire pack was there too, Isaac and Scott huddled around Stiles and Derek while the rest were scattered somewhat around the kitchen, Jackson at the window, Boyd by the back door, Lydia and Erica covering the two entrances. They were all wolfy like their Alpha and they were all growling, hands clenched into fists or splayed out into claws.

Stiles looked back to Derek and blinked again, his heart still racing from his fall. The kitchen was quiet, the only sounds being the growls. Slowly, Stiles's heart started to slow down and his brain finally managed to get with the program. 'The jumpy teenaged werewolves are obviously still jumpy about last night's little episode,' he thought. 'Wonderful.' And now Stiles was going to have to calm them all down again like he did before. Great. Then again, Stiles was awesome at calming the pack down so it wasn't that big of an issue.

Stiles swallowed and focused on calming his heart down some more as he said, "You know, if you're bent on avenging me by slaying my enemies, you should really aim for the shirt. It's all his fault."

A moment passed before the tension began to leave the room. The pack around them began to slowly relax. Claws disappeared and fangs receded into normal human teeth. Derek finally looked away from the spot on the fridge and gave Stiles a heated stare, still wolfed out and panting. Stiles smiled gently and opened his mouth to say something, but instead of words a hiss escaped his lips. The cut on his hand had apparently gotten bored of being ignored and had decided to be a bitch, flaring up in pain.

Immediately, the room was a flurry of activity. Derek was pulling Stiles away from the fridge and setting him down quickly, but gently, onto one of the kitchen chairs. Scott was on the floor quickly picking up the broken plates. Lydia, Erica, and Jackson all raced out of the kitchen to get the first aid kit while Isaac and Boyd settled around Stiles, their claws out again and their eyes bright with worry and panic. Said human let out a clipped laugh as he tried to calm the panicking werewolves, raised his non-bleeding hand to run his fingers through Isaac's hair and to pat Boyd on the arm as he said, "Guys, calm down. It's not that bad. It's just a cut, nothing to worry about."

But his pleas for calm went on deaf ears as the werewolves continued to whimpered and growled to each other. Derek was the most agitated of them all, letting out a loud growl before grabbing Stiles's injured hand and raising it to his mouth, running his tongue across the cut, lapping up the blood that had settled. Stiles hissed and the cubs around him all whimpered.

"Derek," Stiles hissed a glare on his face. "Seriously dude, that's so gross."

But Stiles found that he really couldn't complain much because the pain was fading thanks to Derek's werewolfy saliva. No doubt that by tomorrow, the wound would be gone without a hint of scaring. Just one of the many perks of dating a werewolf. Scott finished cleaning and made his way to Stiles, whimpering like the others much to Stiles's dismay.

When Jackson, Lydia, and Erica returned, they pushed the huge first aid kit had Stiles had insisted on buying into Derek's hands, who quickly went to work wrapping up Stiles's hand as if it would fall off at any moment. Stiles sighed as the pack around him fidgeted and fretted. He was started to get annoyed now and that was never a good sign. As soon as Derek was finished patching him up, Stiles snatched his hand back and stood up from the chair, forcing the cubs and Derek to move back.

"Okay, seriously," Stiles snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Calm the fuck down guys. There is no rival pack here, I wasn't attacked, and I'm not in any danger. I dropped some plates, I cut myself. It's not that bad, my hand is not going to fall off, and there probably won't even be a scar or anything, okay?"

Stiles took in a breath, ignoring the way the pack was staring up at him with wide werewolfy eyes. "It's sweet that you guys care so much, it really is and when I'm more awake and not starving I'll probably find this all to be hilarious and adorable. But not right now. Right now, I'm going to make breakfast," he said, annoyance clear in his voice. "Because I'm hungry and it's way too early for all of this so just stop hovering, let me cook in peace and just go clean up, okay? It smells like teenaged werewolf in here and no, that's not a good thing."

The pack stared up at Stiles for a moment with slightly hurtful eyes, while Stiles simply glared at them in that "don't-give-me-that-look-you-deserved-it" kind of way, before they all shifted back to their non-wolfy states, having at least the decency to look a little bit embarrassed with themselves.

"Sorry Stiles," Scott said, a half-grin on his face as he shuffled in place. Isaac looked down at his feet, mumbled a soft apology before Scott led him out of the kitchen. Erica and Lydia both gave him sheepish smiles before they too apologized, following Scott and Isaac. Jackson, most likely more embarrassed with himself because he'd freaked out over Stiles of all people, grumbled something that might have been an apology and Boyd simply leaned forward to nudge his head against Stiles's before they too followed their pack mates out back into the living room.

'And then there was one,' Stiles thought as he and Derek stared at each other. Derek's eyes were still molten lava red but otherwise he was back to his human, non-wolfy face, which was something. They stared at each other for a moment longer before Stiles heard the tell-tale sounds of multiple showers running. With one last stern look, Stiles huffed and turned away to get the eggs out of the fridge. He felt his glare intensify when he saw the gouge marks on the fridge.

"What was that, Derek? Hm? Seriously?" he asked, opening the fridge and pulling out the eggs, as well as the milk and butter. "I mean, I get that last night shook you guys up but overreaction much?"

Derek was silent as Stiles busied himself around the kitchen, pulling out bowls, spoons, pancake mixes and a griddle. Stiles didn't comment on Derek's silence and just continued to work because he knew the Alpha and he was going to answer eventually. Stiles just had to be patient. The answer finally came when Stiles was pouring the first batch of pancakes onto the griddle.

"I heard you cry out and the plates smashing and I smelt blood and I…" Stiles didn't have to turn to see that Derek was struggling with explaining himself before he continued with, "I couldn't help it. I just thought… with what happened last night..."

"You thought that I was being attacked by the rival pack or something," Stiles finished for him. Derek paused before he nodded. "Yeah," he mumbled and then Stiles turned to him. The Alpha was still in his training clothes, shirtless with some dried blood on his jeans. Stiles frowned as he saw that the muscles in Derek's shoulders were still tense with worry. His red eyes were shifting around the kitchen, looking for any signs of a threat. Stiles sighed and, with a quick look over to the pancakes, walked over to give his mate a quick kiss.

Derek was stiff at first, unyielding, but when Stiles pressed another kiss to his lips, he began to loosen, reaching forward to place his hands on Stiles's hips. Reaching up with both hands, Stiles ran his fingertips over Derek's shoulders, feeling the muscles there unwind from his touch. Rubbing his nose against Derek's, he chuckled at the bewildered look that was given to him.

"Pack meeting during breakfast," Stiles said, slowly peeling away from the now much more relaxed Alpha and back over to his pancakes. He flipped them and yes, they were perfect. Damn, he was awesome. "It'll make the cubs and you feel better if we have some sort of plan that includes more than just marking your territory."

Derek didn't say anything. He simply slid over to Stiles, reaching out to wrap his arms around his waist and plastering them together. Stiles was only about an inch shorter than Derek, but their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly all the same. Derek took in another deep breath, letting the scent of his mate and pancakes fill him up before he mumbled, "Pack meeting during breakfast, Little Red."

Stiles smiled and pressed back into Derek, humming softly before shoving the Alpha away, taking the werewolf by surprise. At the annoyed snarl, Stiles said without turning back, "Dude, you still smell like training night. I love you Sour Wolf but please go take a shower."

End of Chapter Four

A/N: I hate being sick! :P It's the worst. But no more hospital so yay! Tired now though so please review. They'll make me feel so much better. :D Good night!