Scott jerked his head in every direction intensifying all of his senses. He snarled angrily, curling his nose and chomping his white teeth at the empty air. A horrifying growl vibrated deep in his chest that rattled his ribcage as his heart pounded against the walls like a rabid dog shoved into it's small crate. The growl rose to his throat and it grew louder, it's sound so viscous that it informed anything near to stay it's respectful distance. His hands were posed in attack position, his claws disposed and his pointed ears were alert, listening for any movement. Inhaling and exhaling quickly through his nose tried to catch the scent of the beast. His erect ears caught the sound of a small twig snapping and he spun around. Before him was a large white wolf, dusted with pepper-colored fur. It's upper lip was curled as high as it was anatomically possible, showing it's steady pink gums and shinning teeth that dripped with saliva, that had the reflection of the moon shimmering on it's surface. The bristled fur of it's neck rose high, making it's appearance even greater even as it lowered it's torso to the earth. Scott looked pathetic compared to this creature and it was clear there was no chance of him surviving a battle. Wolves run at the option of battle and will only fight as a last resort. In the matter of fight or flee, flee is always the instinct choice. Especially if it's clear they're not the dominant one, but Scott still stood his ground. More than likely because he was in shock from fright of the animal and couldn't think of where to run to or when to do it.
Behind him he felt the rattling of Stiles' body and loudly heard the increase of heart rate as his heart throbbed against his chest.
"Oh shit, Scott." Stiles breathed out shakily.
Upon seeing the great fear of his best friend, Scott stiffened his posture. Stiles knew there was no way in hell that that would intimidate the wolf. "It's no use, Scott!" Stiles yelled frantically, "Scott! Come on!" he grabbed the arm of his werewolf friend and pulled him, begging him to follow. They both broke into a sprint, running away from the snarling white wolf that bounded after them. Stiles ran as fast as he possibly could while Scott paced himself to be beside him.
Stiles' legs began to burn, the mussels were overworking themselves. He struggled to breathe, his energy was being drained fast and his increasing heart rate made his chest feel like it could burst at any moment. He continued on, glancing over every other moment to a panicked Scott. His calf mussels were on fire, he wanted to stop running, but he couldn't. By now his lower body felt numb and running became an automatic movement that required no thought. His legs would continue to move even if he wanted to stop them. His mind was only focused on where the wolf was and whether or not he'd survive the night.
At the same time, Stiles and Scott leapt into the air to jump over a fallen tree, both landing roughly on the muddy leaves as Stiles skidded an inch or so forward, almost loosing his balance and falling to the ground.
Stiles was breathing heavily and his throat began to burn badly and the fact that the air was chilled from the night didn't help the matter. As he and Scott ran frantically they made tons of noise, ruffling the forest ground with their feet and snapping twigs and branches as they went.
As they made their way through the woods they noticed the trees beginning to clear slightly. Stiles glanced behind him and couldn't see the wolf but still ran for his dear life. Turning to face forward again he saw a figure, and before he had time to react, he ran into the object full force, knocking him off his feet and onto the cold moist ground. Looking up frantically, he saw a human figure, the light from the moon above made shadows on the body and had made it hard for him make out any details. Adjusting himself he saw Isaac standing above him rubbing his head and breathing heavily. To Isaac's left Derek had jogged up to the group. He looked angry, as he usually does, his brows narrowed and nostrils flared. A moment later Erica and Boyd emerged from the right, both looked worn out and they were gripping each others hands tightly. Stiles looked up as Scott's hand descended towards him, offering to help him up. He took the hand and as he stood he brushed the leaves off of his pants, although a moist spot from the wet leaves remained.
"How many of them are there?" Erica said in gasps, looking worriedly to Derek, her big, rounded brown eyes were wide as she glanced up to Boyd who took in breaths deeply through his nose. She brushed her messy blond waves off of her face as she nervously licked her lips.
"Not sure," Derek said firmly, "but I do know there's too many. We couldn't take them if we tried. Best thing to do for now is to make for cover and wait till morning." Derek replied looking around, outlining the trees with his eyes, scanning for wolves that could be close by, watching or listening.
"So we can all go to your house and wait it out then?" Isaac said to Derek whose eyes remained to the trees. He didn't answer. His body stiffened and his nostrils flared slightly as he stared.
"Derek?" Scott questioned nervously. Looking to everyone else then back to Derek.
"Dere-" Stiles began, but was interrupted by Derek, who shot him a warning look and motioned for him to be quiet.
They all looked to the trees following his gaze. All Stiles could see were the bony trees, with their black trunks and leaves which projected dark shades of grey from the shadows of the night. Stiles looked to Scott, maybe only werewolves could sense what Derek was sensing. Apparently not. Scott looked back at him with crooked lips, a raised eyebrow and a shrug.
Derek took a slow step backwards, "Run" he whispered. It sounded more like he was telling himself rather than the others. "Run!" he hissed louder with a panicked expression.
Everyone did as he demanded and turned to sprint into the trees once more. That's when Stiles heard the menacing growls from behind him. He glanced to find several large wolves trotting after them, snarling and spitting as they bounded after their prey. The wolves were gaining on them and that's when everyone decided to split up. Erica was first to act, she ran to the right, into the thick trees, hoping the wolves wouldn't fit, dragging Boyd by the hand behind her.
Stiles turned to search for Scott, all he saw was the wolves who were approaching quickly. He turned his head forward again, panicking, not sure what to do, but when he saw Derek sprint to the left he bounded after him.
Derek turned his head back, glancing at a inapt Stiles who was breathing quickly and who kept loosing his balance on the slippery leaves. If Stiles was paying attention he would have caught Derek rolling his eyes and huffing to himself, obviously wishing he would've gotten stuck with someone else. Or just questioning to himself how odd of a child Stiles was.
Trees began to clear again and Stiles could see an abandoned shed just ahead of Derek. He was very thankful for this, he felt like he'd collapse at any moment. Derek opened the shed door and shut it as soon as Stiles had entered from behind him.
Stiles was bent over with his hands resting on his knees, gasping for air. After a moment he stood up straight and looked to Derek, who walked away from the door and further into the pitch black shed. He could no longer see him, but heard his combat boots clapping against the wooden floor as he walked. The foot steps stopped and Stiles curiously waited in silence to see what Derek was doing. Suddenly the room was visible, no longer in obscurity as Derek stood in the corner holding a small lamp that projected yellow glows onto the walls and floor. He set the lamp down then glanced back to Stiles.
"What do we do now?" Stiles asked, analyzing the shed. It was small, and made of wood that was beginning to rot from being weathered down from the years. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, along with an abandoned bird nest. The corner of the room-opposite of the lamp- had a ratted blue blanket, and a dirty pillow with no protective case. Stiles looked back to Derek, "Does someone live here?"
"We wait here for a while." Derek replied, taking a seat on the floor as he leaned his back against the wall. "Not to worry, no one lives here." He motioned for Stiles to sit beside him.
Stiles took a step in Derek's direction then stopped, "You know what, I think I'll stand for now." he smiled nervously.
Derek smiled back mischievously, "Do I scare you, Stiles?"
Stiles faked a laugh, "Scare me? Of course not! What'd make you think that?" he said uncomfortably.
"You're not coming to sit by me. In fact you're as far from me as possible." he acted offended to mess with the boy. "I won't bite."
Stiles looked back at him with slight confusion drawn across his face. What the hell was Derek doing? When did he ever joke around, Especially with Stiles? He narrowed his eyebrows but began to slowly and cautiously step towards him again. As he turned to sit down Derek jokingly snapped at his leg and growled. Stiles jumped slightly, and reflexively smacked him, "Derek! Don't do that!" but after seeing Derek laugh he couldn't help but to smile with him.
"So no one lives in here? You're sure?" Stiles asked him again, getting comfortably seated
"Yes, Stiles, I'm sure." Derek repeated. A saddened tone rang in his voice as he looked to ground.
For a moment all Stiles could do was look at him. It sounds weird, but Derek isn't one he'd expect to have feelings. Although he knew everyone had feelings and a softer side, imagining Derek like that was rather difficult for him, and possibly because Derek was always strong. Or always appeared to be. Which is why Stiles always acts nervous around him, Derek always acts tough and serious, which let's be honest, can be intimidating.
Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Before he could try again, Derek stood and walked across the room. Stiles watched intrigued as Derek picked up the worn blanket and examined it thoroughly. He continued to observe as he rubbed the blanket gently between his index finger and thumb. He walked back to Stiles and handed him the blanket.
Stiles took the blanket with two hands. The material felt as if it used to be fuzzy and soft, but grew rather tattered and tough throughout the years. Stiles massaged the blanket with his fingers like he saw Derek do. That's when something on the blanket caught his attention. At first he thought it was dirt, like the other marks on it, but this one felt different, it didn't feel like it was on the blanket, but more so part of the blanket. Examining closer he saw it was thread, a navy blue color that was just a few shades darker than the blanket itself. It was stitched in the shape of a 'D', and connected to that was a lowercase 'e'. Smoothening out the blanket he saw the rest of the word.
"Derek." Stiles said merely. He lifted his creamy brown eyes to Derek who stared back emotionlessly. "Derek," he paused. "is all of this stuff yours?" he said slowly putting two and two together.
Derek took the blanket back gently, and Stiles helped guide it back into his arms. He turned and sat back down beside Stiles. He was quiet a moment then replied with an uneasy, "Yeah."
By the tone of his voice Stiles found it may be better to ask no more questions. He looked to Derek, whose jaw was clenched-Stiles' guess that was to avoid tears.- obviously the old blanket was something special to him.
"This place used to be my get-away spot." Derek said to Stiles, keeping his eyes on the blanket.
Stiles was actually surprised to find Derek opening himself up. He definitely preferred this Derek.
"I had had an argument with my mother one day." he paused, "things got pretty bad and I told her I was running away from home, Laura tried to convince me not to, but I did. I ran until I found this place. I had no idea who it belonged to, as far I could tell it was just an abandoned shed." he smiled then laughed slightly, "I was pretty proud of my newly found home, until I realized I hadn't brought anything with me, anything at all. I snuck back home that night, ran up to my room and grabbed my blanket, pillow and that lamp," he gestured towards their source of light.
"On my way back down the stairs I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning around I found out it was my mom, I thought she'd yell at me, but she hugged me, for a while too. Then she ruffled my hair and said, 'please come back home.'"
Stiles smiled to Derek, "You miss her." He said as more of a statement rather than a question. Knowing the exact feeling of loosing a mother.
"Sure do." Derek nodded. "I wish I hah had more time. When you lose someone, they're taken from you often times with no warning." he set the blanket down gently beside him.
"I agree completely", Stiles murmured beside him, his face also becoming consumed with the saddened look.
They sat in silence for a while. Both lost in their thoughts. Stiles assumed Derek was having a rough time revisiting the memories. He would fidget at times, or shift his positioning while clearing his throat. Stiles had also assumed he hadn't thought of his family often. Maybe he pushed memories aside to forget, pretend nothing ever happened. But he could be wrong.
Stiles stared at the room for a long time. And for most of that time he visited happy thoughts of his own mother. "Derek," Stiles finally spoke. He was staring the wall directly in front of the both of them. The section of the wall that met with the one beside it had lined carved into the wood. Focusing a bit more Stiles thought he recognized them to be claw marks, "What's on the walls over there?" he gestured in that direction with his head.
Derek looked up and followed Stiles' gaze, "Ah," he said, automatically remembering what they were and what caused them, "claw marks. I went a bit mad after the fire happened." he said a bit more comfortably, talking and opening himself up was clearly helping him in one way or another.
Stiles looked back at him with sad eyes, unsure of what to say next.
"But all I have is memories, you know, the fire didn't just take my family, it took their things too. I have no physical object to remember them by." Derek continued, "Do you have anything left?" He asked Stiles, trying to make the conversation seen more two-sided and not focused on himself.
Stiles was caught off guard with the question but answered immediately, "Of course. We have all of her things. My dad put most of it away in a box and stuck it in the attic, but I took her journal and kept it with me." he cleared his throat, which was burning like hell as he demanded his tears to stay inside. "She liked writing, and sketching sometimes." he laughed to himself, "Actually she sketched all of the time, she loved doing it, and I loved looking at her creations." he looked to Derek who was smiling and listening intently. "I used to sneak into her room sometimes and look through it. One day she caught me looking at it and from then on she'd write me little notes in the corner of the page, sometimes just a 'Hi' or an 'I love you'.
"Then once she died, I kept my own journal. I wasn't good at writing or drawing, but my therapist said to write something. I tried, then I stopped. Writing didn't help like my therapist said it would. It only made me remember, and I didn't want to remember. I wanted so badly to forget." he paused. Playing with his fingers and blinking hard a few times to avoid tears. "I'm glad I remember though. At least I have something. Memories are better than nothing." he smiled small. "I didn't write anything else in it till about a month ago."
Derek looked at him, intrigued, "What happened a month ago?" he asked gently, eyebrows narrowed showing his interest.
"Well." Stiles said hesitantly. He sucked in a nose full of air, "Well, that's when I first met of you." he glanced shyly to Derek to catch his reaction. Which was a happily shocked look. Stiles chose to pretend he never saw it. "Instead of writing about my mom and the things I missed, I wrote to her. I started with a 'dear mom' and told her about things. I told her about meeting you. She would've liked you."
"And mine would have liked you." Derek smiled and reached his hand over to touch Stiles' thigh.
Derek's hand was warm and the contact sent a noticeable chill up Stiles' body as his eyes naturally widened and his body grew tense.
"S-" Derek pulled his hand back quickly, "Sorry." he nervously adjusted his position and ran his fingers through his hair, "That was inappropriate."
Stiles smiled at him and laughed while turning and grabbing the collar of the mans shirt and pulling the body into his own. He forced his thin pink lips onto Derek's, then their lips slowly parted, inviting one another's tongue inside their mouths.
He pulled away and uttered, "Derek, that was completely appropriate."