Stiles never really like the look of Derek's house. Or at least what was left of it. The tragic fire that burnt down the Hale residence didn't really phase Stiles. He felt no sympathy for Derek. He felt like the Hale's deserved it.
Derek lent against the bonnet of the car, carelessly dipping the metal with his muscly presence atop it. He retrieved a cigarette and lighter from his pocket and lit it.
"You smoke?" Stiles said, almost in disgust.
"I'm stressed." Derek chuckled through a closed lips, holding the cigarette in his mouth whilst attempting to light it.
"You know, there are other things you could do. Like yoga or calisthenics. Scott's mom does that."
"Do I look like Scott's mom?"
Derek inhaled deeply, waiting a few seconds before releasing the pungent stench of ash from between his lips.
"I'd be worried if you did." Stiles smiled. Stiles then went to the side of the car, pulled his bags from the back seat, then commenced a light walk towards the house. The front door was marked with an odd inky substance The mark formed a strange, sharp edged shape, but Stiles took no notice of it. Derek knew it was the Alpha Triskelion. It was a warning.
Stiles found himself standing in a dirty, moldy house. Once, it could have been greatness. The Tiffany fixtures and stain glass windows could be restored, but Stiles knew that Derek had not time to play housewife. Derek appeared in the door way beside him; the kitchen perhaps.
"You'll be upstairs. And about the other night. I feel like I crossed-"
"Don't worry about it Derek." Stiles abruptly butted in, delaying the tension Derek's coming sentence would have brought him.
"Let's just get through this week." He then added.
Stiles wandered up the stairs, feeling as though he was going to fall through them at any point. The stairs were beyond breaking point but they all seemed to be staying in perfect position. As he reached the top, two long hallways stretched out either side of him. To his left, burnt and charred pillars created a dank and airy atmosphere. To his right, the hallway looked magnificent. By magnificent, Stiles meant bearable. It looked like achievable living standards for a week. Stiles felt himself being followed by Derek down the hallway.
"To the right." Derek said, and Stiles turned quickly into a small, red room, with a single bed and plain creme sheets. It wasn't a bad room, for the look of the rest of the house. Stiles expected the room to be a wardrobe sized one, with a matress on the floor and a few spiders on the ceiling. But all in all, this room was tidy and clean, almost as though Derek expected Stiles's arrival.
"Is it okay?" Derek spoke softly, standing nervously by the doorway. Stiles threw his bags on the floor.
"It's better than I expected." Stiles smiled, turning to face Derek.
"Than expected? And what were you expecting?"
"I don't know. A wardrobe. Maybe a few cauldrons and some incense."
Derek looked confused.
"I think you have mistaken me for a witch." He eventually said, grinning.
"Now if you don't mind, Derek, I'd like some privacy." Stiles said.
"Okay." Derek muttered, looking distracted by something in the hall.
"I think it is best if you stay in here for the rest of the day, Stiles." he added.
Stiles was confused. He offers him a room, then expects him to stay in it all day? But Stiles did not question Derek's thinking, knowing a heated argument would most likely follow if he dare.
Stiles attempted to go on the internet, but soon realized the Derek still lived in the stone ages and slammed his laptop shut.
What to do?
Stiles lay back on his bed, his feet slightly hanging off the end. Stiles knew he wasn't tall, so this was awfully odd. Then he came to the conclusion that one of the old Hale kids must have slept on there. He kind of had a fantasy that he was lying on child Derek's bed. Little Derek's bed.
Hours past and Stiles found himself drifting off to sleep.
Stiles awoke to the sudden rumble of lighting and rain hitting the roof.
He bolted upright, examining the room and saw it was now dark. He must have slept right through the day. Stiles swung his legs off the bed to the ground and stood up. He sleepily walked out of the room and looked down the hall. No sign of life.
Stiles heard a deep pant, and walked further down the hall to where he guessed Derek's room was. Stiles heard continual deep breathing from behind a door. It sounded odd. He pressed his ear against the door and listened.
It sounded like Derek was hurt, so without thinking, Stiles burst into the room.
"Oh my god. Derek." Stiles rushed to the bedside where Derek was lying.
Derek looked like he had been crying, as his eyes were swollen and dry. There was blood all over Derek's shirt and he wrestled around and fought with his clothing. Stiles then realised Derek was asleep, having a nightmare.
"Derek. Derek." Stiles ran his finger down Derek's face, begging him to calm.
"Stiles. I can't. Don't bite Stiles. No." he spoke softly in his sleep, distressed and sad.
"No one's going to bite me, Derek."