Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/229568.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Sheriff_Stilinski, Scott_McCall
  Series:
      Part 2 of Pack'verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-07-28 Words: 10073
****** Heartbeat ******
by strokeof_genie
Summary
     Everything is normal, except for the werewolf in his kitchen.
Notes
     Pretty much a direct sequel to Roll_Over. Spoilers generally for
     episodes 1 - 6, but goes AU before the end of 6. Slight D/s tones as
     before.I guess that I should admit that I'm de-anoning for this_fill,
     and say that it was pretty instrumental in getting this fic finished.
     Thanks so much to oh_simone for her lovely comments and
     encouragement, because this wouldn't have gotten finished without
     them. And thanks to lovestoned4jt for braving a fandom she isn't
     interested in to help my grammar not suck!
When Stiles wakes up he smells coffee, and he smiles because that means his dad
is probably making breakfast too. Saturday mornings usually see his dad at work
earlier, but if he's making coffee he must be taking it slow. Face still buried
in his pillow, Stiles stretches, and outright grins at the way he's sore. So
not a virgin anymore.
Intent on getting up and seeing his dad before he leaves, Stiles starfishes out
in his bed, moving the soreness out of his limbs as much as possible. Sex. He'd
had it, last night. Messy, hard, good sex, but Stiles is pretty sure that to
him, any sex is good sex. He wonders if he'll be able to hide it all from his
dad, and knows that he'll have to wear a shirt downstairs. Derek left bruises
on his hips, but Stiles doesn't need to look in a mirror to know that - he's
been remembering last night and replaying it in his memory, and his favorite
part is probably a little fucked up: Derek's hand on his throat, slick with
Stiles' come, and the way his ass stretched as Derek -
Heh. Stiles took a shower after Derek left last night, so he knows what he
looks like. The stubble burn on his face and neck has hopefully gone down
enough for his dad to just make another comment about Stiles' sensitive skin,
again, which would be annoying but he's glad he has some excuse. There's no
marks on his neck from Derek's hands even though Stiles can still remember the
strength. His hand is sore from Derek’s hard grip, and his ass is too - he
might even have finger shaped bruises. Stiles' entire body is a little worse
for the wear after last night, but God, there's a reason Stiles can't stop
grinning.
He doesn't feel like thinking about the deeper meaning of what they did, yet.
He's pack now, which is interesting and cool, weird and exciting. He's human,
and he didn't get too many details on what that means for him being a part of
pack between Derek's tongue in his mouth and Derek's dick in his ass. He
probably should do that, and he will eventually. "Nnnnngh," Stiles groans into
his pillow, before levering himself up and out of bed. Dealing with Derek is
kind of exhausting, and it was before it turned sexual.
He goes into the bathroom and squints into the mirror. He doesn't look any
different, really, unless you count the scrapes he's gotten from this entire
situation. His black eye is healing nicely, more yellow than any other color
now, only purple and red right above his cheek. His dad has seen it, so that's
nothing he has to lie about. His dad won't see anything else except his hand,
and he can tell him that it's a sports injury too. Didn’t have his gloves on,
got whacked with a ball.
Stiles wonders if other people have to lie to their parents so much, and then
thinks about who he knows: Scott, who lies all the time to everyone, except
him. Allison, whose parents still think that she's a virgin, but he figures
that since they’re lying to her about being werewolf hunters they deserve it.
Lydia and Jackson, who he - well, he isn't sure about what lies they tell to
their parents, but he's pretty sure that they do. He feels a little guilty but
- well, he's not doing drugs, or anything like that. He's just in a werewolf
pack, which is odd, but he's safer than if he wasn't.
Cheered by his fucked up logic, Stiles picks up a shirt off his bathroom floor
and pulls it on, and then looks in the mirror again. Everything important is
covered, so he heads out and runs downstairs. He meets his dad as he's exiting
the kitchen. "Hey," his dad says, surprised. "You were dead to the world when I
came in last night, didn't know if I'd see you before I left."
"Yeah, I - rough day at practice," Stiles shrugs, and walks over to get a cup
of coffee. "How late are you working tonight?" He's not sure what his plans are
for today, but he's got to talk to Scott. And since his dad has been busy and
they need groceries - they're almost out of Hamburger Helper, and his dad was
talking about making a roast or something - Stiles should probably go shopping.
He can make Scott go with him, too, because Scott's easier to manage if they're
in public where Stiles can embarrass him. "I can go grocery shopping today,"
Stiles offers. His dad gets that look on his face that Stiles simultaneously
loves and hates: his dad is missing his mom at that moment, and loving and
proud of Stiles.
He shakes it off quickly though, like he knows how uncomfortable it makes
Stiles. "Sure. None of that granola cereal this time," his dad reminds him, and
Stiles has to roll his eyes. "My cholesterol isn't bad enough for me to suffer
through it. And maybe pick up some of that bread with the garlic cloves in it,
we still have that pasta sauce. We need more pasta, though."
"Make a list before you leave? And I'm getting you Cheerios instead," he tells
his dad, who just smiles absentmindedly while he sorts through yesterday's
mail. "And you'll eat them, too." Stiles adds, side-eying his dad over the
coffee cup. His dad has been very anti skim milk since they switched, but
Stiles doesn't really give a shit, since his last doctor's appointment didn't
go well. It didn't go poorly, but when his dad came home with the pamphlets for
cholesterol medicines and crap, Stiles did his own research and is enforcing
his own rules.
He has a check-up scheduled soon for that, and for the whole getting hit with a
car thing, and Stiles would like some change in his health, based on his change
in diet. Stiles understands that his dad's health, overall, is fine. He
understands that he's probably going a little overboard with his insistence of
diet changes and asking his dad if he wants to go on a run, but - but. Stiles
is kind of protective of the people he has in his life still, so his dad's
going to have to deal with the food and the nagging.
Plus, Stiles kind of likes the granola, so it's not going to go to waste. Or he
might take Allison up on her offer and give it to her to make cookies, because
apparently you can do that with granola. He could totally trick his dad to
eating it that way, but after the sugar and butter it probably isn't healthy
anymore.
---
Stiles emails Scott after his dad leaves. Dude, when are you going to get your
phone fixed? Never mind, I'm coming over around 1ish to pick you up.
Stiles thinks it sounds all right - he and Scott have been having issues since
Scott freaked about the pack thing, and it pisses Stiles off. Sure, he knows
that Scott is difficult to reason with when he is angry, especially now, but
that's why the pack is a good idea. It pisses Stiles off more that he ended up
getting hit in the face by a partially transformed Scott, especially since
Scott panicked and left immediately, running out of the locker room instead of
helping in any way.
Not that Stiles expected him to do much; Scott was in a rage, yeah, and he ran
out of school completely to get away from anyone. He at least has good
instincts, Stiles supposes, so that he doesn't rip people apart, or punch any
other friends in the face. Though Stiles kind of wishes - and by kind of he
means really - that Scott would have punched Jackson in the face before
leaving.
Derek could crush Jackson like a bug, Stiles bets, and it makes him grin. He's
sent the email and it's not even ten yet, so Stiles isn't really sure of what
he wants to do. He could do homework, or he could decide on what dinner is, or
he could get a shower and jerk off to the thought of Derek in the shower, or he
could - is someone downstairs?
Stiles could have sworn that he heard someone downstairs. He didn't lock the
back door, Stiles remembers, so that really sucks that today's the day that
someone breaks into the Stilinsky household. Stiles gets his lacrosse stick and
tries to walk as quietly as possible, poised out of sight near the stairs, so
that when whoever is downstairs comes up he can brain them. He reminds himself
of the entire McHall family, right now.
"Stiles," a voice from downstairs says drily, "come down here." Shocked, Stiles
obeys, still holding the stick. What the hell is Derek doing here? Not that
Stiles is going to complain, because they do need to talk and it's been proven
that Derek will have sex with him so there's always hope for that. It's just
that, personal boundaries like households and all of that - shouldn't those
still be respected? Maybe if the door was locked he'd have knocked, at least.
Or not, Stiles frowns, and thinks warily of the window that’s unlocked in his
room.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" Stiles says, and it's not nearly as
antagonistic as he wants it to be. Derek is sitting at the counter-top smirking
at him, and that makes it easier for Stiles to be unpleasant. "I thought you
were a burglar," Stiles accuses, and leans his lacrosse stick against the
counter. Derek shrugs and eyes him, and Stiles has a brief flare of panic that
holy shit he's standing too close to the werewolf when Derek's arm snaps out.
It's too quick for Stiles to actually follow, but Derek's hand grips Stiles'
tee and pulls him forward.
"Come here," Derek is kissing him as soon as he says it, and Stiles can't
really help it. His hands go to Derek's shoulders and he leans against him,
getting kissed a little harder and deeper as a reward. Stiles is still
surprised that he gets to do this, but that doesn't mean he's not going to go
with it. He can't help the happy little groan he makes, and when they pull back
for a breath Derek bites his lip.
Stiles licks over it, and wonders if werewolves naturally have sharper teeth
than normal people, even when they aren't transformed. "Upstairs?" Stiles asks,
and feels disappointed when Derek smirks at him but shakes his head. He bets
that he could get Derek to change his mind but figures that he can save those
sort of tests for when everything's a little more defined. Or something.
"We should - talk," Derek suggests, and Stiles can tell he's wincing as he says
it, but whether it's from turning down sex, or from his suggestion and that he
sounds kind of like a girl Stiles isn't sure. Either way he's not faking his
disappointment at the lack of definite and immediate sex, and he doesn't have
to tell Derek that he is kind of laughing at him. You know, on the inside, very
quietly.
Derek narrows his eyes at Stiles, like he can see what Stiles is thinking. "We
do need to talk, you're right," Stiles agrees quickly, and steps away from
Derek, who seems a little reluctant to let Stiles out of his grasp. "Um,
coffee? Or breakfast, if you want," Stiles offers, and sees that there's some
coffee left in the pot. He wonders if he could get Derek to eat granola, or if
he already does, or if being naturally fit and hot is a werewolf thing. Allison
seems really into Scott, so it’s possible. Stiles will see for sure when they
kill the alpha and figure out who it is, because won’t an alpha be the best of
the best? "Do you work out?" Stiles asks, absentmindedly, and pours Derek's
coffee.
Derek's raised eyebrow reminds Stiles that he didn't ask for a cup, but he
takes a drink anyway. Warm coffee, cool outside, and Stiles wants to have sex.
Everything’s normal, except for the werewolf in the kitchen. "I already ate,"
Derek says, and grins at Stiles in a way that makes Stiles pretty sure he's not
imagining that Derek's canines are different from other people's. He probably
ate a bunny, which should bother Stiles more than it does, but it just makes
him roll his eyes. "And I run a lot," Derek adds, which, heh. Wolf, running,
yeah - Stiles gets it.
He likes Derek's sense of humor, when the jokes aren't about killing him, and
it's somehow a more startling revelation than having sex with Derek had been.
"Hah," Stiles says, and turns to the fridge anyway. Derek already ate, but
Stiles was reading about wolves, real ones, and they have a diet high in
protein and fat, and eat a lot when they catch something. He isn't sure that
Derek's house even has a fridge. Or running water. Or a real bed. Or -
"You don't have to feed me," Derek says, and Stiles turns to look at him. His
eyes are hard and he's frowning, Stiles can feel the agitation pricking at him.
Stiles isn't sure what's going on exactly, but he thinks that Derek thinks that
Stiles is - Stiles isn't sure. Pitying him, perhaps, but when the guy you're
fucking, and in a pack with, only has a dilapidated house that should be
condemned and a really nice, hot car to his name, well. It makes Stiles want to
do nicer things for him, but Stiles doesn't think it's pity. It could easily be
the lizard part of his brain that just wants to have sex, possibly on the hood
of Derek's hot car. Concentrating on that thought, Stiles finds it pretty easy
to ignore the agitation that raises hairs on the back of his neck.
"Shut up," Stiles says, feeling kind of ballsy. Derek raises both eyebrows,
now, his expression communicating perfectly what did you just say, and Stiles
isn't going to repeat himself. He wants Derek to let him do this, because as
hard as he might try not to, he has been thinking about Derek, about them, the
pack. Derek's role is pretty easy to define in it, and Stiles', being male, and
human, isn't as linear. "Just don't start expecting it," Stiles says finally,
pulling out deli meats and cheese. Everyone likes sandwiches.
"I won't," Derek says, and Stiles flushes because he knows that if Derek can
smell his arousal, Derek can probably smell a lie, or hear it in his heartbeat.
He thinks that they're both lying, though, not just Stiles.
---
Apparently all of this worrying that Stiles had, all of his research into
wolves and pack mentality - it's both wildly misleading and by turns,
completely factual. It's the best of both worlds, Stiles figures, and the
worst-of-the-worst-of-the-worst. He was right about Derek needing to eat, which
is cool, and he can remain human and still be considered pack, like some in
Derek's family - but he was also right about the hold an alpha has on his pack,
and while he trusts Derek..."So if the alpha decided to walk up to Scott and
use his Jedi mind tricks to force - heh, Force - him into the rape and pillage
of the entire town, basically what dad would have to tell people would be to
hide their women and precious metals," Stiles says, and suddenly has no more
interest in his coffee.
"If your father knew about werewolves," Derek agrees, which only serves to
remind Stiles of how messed up everything is. Was it only a month ago that
Stiles had no knowledge of the supernatural, other than the theory he had that
the Twilight books were actually some sort of Satanic brainwashing device?
Which he is still mostly convinced is true, but more importantly, werewolves.
Back in his bedroom last night it wasn't as big of a deal, or maybe it had just
been a different kind of big deal.
"Not like I don't like having sex with you," Stiles says, because he really
does like it, "but I liked my life better before I knew werewolves existed. And
don't look at me like that, haven't you ever heard of, oh, plausible
deniability? Or just my own damn peace of mind," Stiles adds, and frowns.
"I'll protect you," Derek says easily, like it's nothing, like it's a part of
pack. That right there, Derek's offhand assurance of Stiles' safety, is more
telling of the gravity of the decision Stiles made than anything else. Stiles
is sort of annoyed that he has to be protected, because he's not harmless,
except for how suddenly he is exactly that, and the werewolf in his kitchen is
at the opposite end of the comparison. It's a part of pack, again, that he
needs to be protected. Derek reaches a hand out to grab Stiles' chin firmly,
and Stiles lets him turn his head so that Derek can see the fading bruise of
when Scott lost control.
He's wondering what Derek's thinking right now, looking at him. Stiles gets the
feeling that Derek hates that Stiles was hurt just as much as he hates that
Stiles bears someone else's mark, and then he gasps, because that, too, is a
pack thing. He remembers from their conversation in the car that Derek’s moods
can affect his own, and wow. Stiles is pretty sure he shouldn't find Derek's
casual dominance, his possessiveness and his protectiveness hot. Derek's eyes
narrow and his nostrils flare as he breathes deep, scenting Stiles. "Um,"
Stiles says, because this is ridiculous, not everything Derek does can be laden
with sex.
Derek's fingers twitch, holding Stiles' chin more firmly. "You're distracting
me," he says quietly, a low rumble. Stiles doesn't think that it's possible to
get more turned on, but at Derek's words he just wants to climb onto the man's
lap and rub off against him.
"I didn't mean to!" Stiles is indignant. "You're the one who touched me first,"
he says, and Derek's thumb moves up and presses hard at the corner of his
mouth, a pretty simple warning. Stiles opens it before he can stop himself, and
watches Derek's pupils dilate. The thumb touches his lower lip, and Stiles
can't stop his tongue from sneaking out to wet his lips, licking across Derek.
The man growls, and pulls his hand away. He licks across his thumb, licking
Stiles off of himself, God that's hot, and then - and then a fog lifts from
Stiles' brain.
"Calm down," Derek says, his voice strained, and Stiles isn't sure if he's
talking to himself or Stiles. It's like all the lust lifts from the room, and
Stiles watches Derek restrain himself, both from doing his projecting thing,
and from carrying Stiles up to bed. Why though, Stiles thinks, because -
because they are talking, and it is important.
Stiles closes his eyes, and thinks desperately about gross, unsexy things, like
his dad and fingernail clippings and the cologne Scott wears and - "Scott! We
need to talk about Scott," Stiles demands firmly. "Right?" He's pretty sure
he's right. Derek breathes deeply once more, and then a smirk flashes across
his face.
"Sure, Scott will do, apparently," Derek sounds amused and it throws Stiles for
a moment, before he realizes that Derek is scenting him, to make sure he isn't
attracted to Scott. Ridiculous, and hilariously gross, because it's Scott. He's
been Stiles' best friend since forever.
"...yeah," Stiles says, the duh clear, and then pauses. "How will it work,
getting him into the pack? I mean, I get him to agree, and then that's it?" He
asks hopefully, but he knows that there's more than that. He probably gets the
better end of the deal - Derek's dick coming in him isn't a hardship and is
actually rapidly becoming a fixation - but what will Scott have to do, for this
protection?
"I have to get him to agree," Derek says, and for a moment Stiles is silent,
blinking at him, trying to process the finality in Derek's voice. "I'm the
wolf, Stiles, and in the end it's not really even a choice," Derek is
unapologetic, and Stiles is worrying quietly, like he always does. "You can
convince him, but he has to agree. Submit. If he doesn't," Derek says, his
voice trailing off. Stiles wonders if he's even going to bother with finishing
the sentence, since it's pretty damn obvious where it's going. "I'll fight him,
and force him to submit. Once he accepts," Derek stops completely, and Stiles
winces at how oppressive the very air is feeling, like weights slowly pressing
down on his lungs.
"Once he accepts, you have to bite him, don't you?" Stiles asks quietly, and he
almost feels bad about asking something he knows to be true, especially with
the way Derek meets his eyes. They're a little wild, like he's anticipating the
fight, or like - oh. He expects Stiles to balk, to not accept this plan, and to
run. Derek is expecting a chase. Stiles would almost guess that Derek wants a
chase, and that it appeal to the wolf.
Derek's missing something, though. Even if he doesn't like to admit this to
himself, Stiles knows that he expected this, and that it's not the revelation
Derek thinks it should be. Wolves are very...earthy, primal. It's not ideal,
and Stiles knows his situation is better than Scott's will be, but it's the
only path they have to travel that is even remotely hopeful. Stiles thinks
about saying something, about helping Derek out of the silently growing rage in
his eyes, but...
But Stiles just lifts his coffee and sips it, instead. It's not that Stiles
wants him to suffer, it's just that - and he's probably just taking this out on
Derek because he's here and convenient, because Scott deserves some of this,
too - Stiles feels like they underestimate him, because he can't bench press a
car and doesn't have super sharp fangs or can't smell people's arousal, God. So
Stiles is kind of petty and sometimes a bitch. He owns it, and looks at Derek,
who is eying him with a hard sort of speculation.
He sees the awareness on Derek's face, and can't hold back a smirk. Derek looks
at him, not amused. "I'm going to take you upstairs, now," Derek's voice is
flat, and Stiles hurries to set his coffee down. Derek easily pulls him off of
the stool with rough hands, but Stiles goes willingly. He's aching for this,
pretty much has been since he saw Derek, and opens his mouth as soon as Derek
is on him. Derek doesn't kiss him, though; he rubs his cheek against Stiles'
and says into his ear, "hold on."
A moment of confusion, and then Derek is hefting him up, one hand under his
arm, the other cupping his ass, tossing Stiles over Derek's shoulder in a
fireman's carry. "What the fuck," Stiles says, but doesn't struggle much.
Derek's squeezing his ass, while his other wraps around Stiles' thigh, and
it's...kind of exactly what Stiles wants, right now. He can hear Derek's
laughter and feel it, and figures he can be embarrassed about how he gets off
on how Derek can manhandle him after the manhandling has been enjoyed.
---
Stiles supposes that it could have been worse. It could have been more awkward
than just sitting on Derek's lap on the bed, making out, both of them
shirtless. If Scott had walked in five minutes later, Stiles knows they'd have
been naked, and he'd probably have been riding Derek's cock. He's been begging
for it since Derek sat him in his lap, after all.
"Holy shit," Stiles says, and pushes away from Derek so hard that he would have
landed on the floor had Derek not held him close. Continuing to hold him,
keeping him seated on Derek's lap, Stiles really couldn't begin to think of
what was going through Derek's mind other than the fierce possessiveness that
he was exuding. Scott's thoughts, though, they are written all over his face.
"Um," Stiles tries, but Derek hushes him, a finger over his lips. Stiles
doesn't dare try to lick it this time, either.
Scott is in Stiles' bedroom doorway, gaping, and Stiles is trapped on Derek's
lap against his erection. Derek's erection, as Stiles' own went droopy as soon
as the words Scott and noooooooo echoed through his mind. "What?" Derek asks,
like Scott has the gall to interrupt them and stare. Stiles knows it's off-
putting, but Derek knows that Scott needs to be talked to. He doesn't know
anything yet, because they haven't told him. Also, Derek should probably stop
being absolutely ridiculous, and let Stiles put some space between them.
"What the fuck," Scott manages, and it's his voice that makes Stiles squirm in
Derek's grasp, trying to get free. He doesn't want away from Derek so much as
he wants thinking and breathing space, and he can see how uncomfortable Scott
is. Derek keeps Stiles close, and all he manages to do is wriggle on top of
Derek's cloth-covered cock, which is - distracting. Stiles breaks his promise
to himself and licks at Derek's finger, and has to close his eyes as Derek's
cock twitches and he can feel it. Scott makes a desperate and horrified sort of
noise, but Derek's finger's gone, so Stiles can speak.
"It's not, um. Okay, it is what it looks like," Stiles admits, and Scott is
starting to look angry, oh wow, this won't end well at all. "I was going to
tell you soon, but you remember earlier how angry you were," Derek makes a
noise at that, something so low that it's more of a deep vibration than a
growl, and from the look on Scott's face they're all thinking of Stiles' black
eye. "I thought I'd tell you later today," Stiles says very quickly, wants
Scott to hear this before he runs or worse, attacks. "And explain some things
about our pack," Stiles stops suddenly, because Scott is growling. Derek's grip
on his hips isn't holding him close anymore, it's lifting him off, and Stiles
is rolled over to the side so Derek is in between Scott and Stiles. Derek sits
on Stiles' bed, muscled tense and ready to fight.
Stiles wonders if he's still got wood, and then forcibly thinks not the time.
"Scott, leave," Derek demands, and Stiles watches Scott's eyes flash yellow. He
swallows apprehensively and tries to resist the urge to back up. Derek moves to
stand, a wall between the best friends. "Don't act until you think it over,"
Derek warns. Stiles watches Derek's nails lengthen and get sharper, and wishes
he could see his face. He can't see what Scott's reaction to that is, either,
and he's not sure he wants to try. He's sure Derek is terrifying, because he
can feel the weight of Derek's anger, his absolute fury at Scott being angry
enough to threaten Stiles again, when he's already hurt him. So this is what
pack is, Stiles thinks, and wonders how Scott will react to that, when he's
reminded.
He figures it out when he hears his door slam, and Scott's familiar footfalls
retreating. "Derek," Stiles says, not sure what just happened. Derek sits back
down, and then turns to look at Stiles wearily. "I should go talk to him,
probably," Stiles suggests, and something flashes in Derek's eyes. Not
supernatural, no glowing, just - a look. Stiles doesn't like it, because it
looks like defeat even though Derek clearly won whatever he and Scott were
doing. "I mean, later," Stiles hastens to add. "Before the weekend is over."
"You made him angry," Derek says, seeing Stiles' confusion. Of course Stiles
made him angry, Scott would think that this was a lie Stiles told him or worse,
all because of him. "Not because of our position, though I'm sure it didn't
help." Derek smirks, and then pulls Stiles closer. "When you said 'our pack,'
he changed," Derek says, and Stiles feels - lighter, like there's a certain
relief and near-joy in the air. It takes him a moment to connect it with Derek,
because Stiles isn't the one feeling the emotions. Stiles feels pretty awesome
that he's making Derek feel that way, though.
When Stiles gets tugged he moves with Derek, sitting astride on Derek's lap
again. From there it's really easy to just rock against him, get his erection
back from where it flagged with Scott's arrival, and soon Stiles is gasping
into Derek's mouth and trying to pull out of his grip long enough to get rid of
his pants.
"Please, please," Stiles says, "fucking help me," he just wants them off, so
that he can be naked and on top of Derek. Instead of helping, Derek lies down
and pulls Stiles with him, up his body, until Stiles is trying to balance
himself on his knees, legs splayed open across Derek's chest. "Derek, what are
you," trying to make happen, Stiles is going to ask, but Derek starts grabbing
all of Stiles' pillows to bunch them under his head.
"Open your pants," Derek says, testing the way his head lies, the angle he
achieved, perfect to - oh my God.
"Oh my God," Stiles says, somewhat reverently, because Derek is going to blow
him. With Stiles sitting on his chest, and Stiles' hands are shaky and fumbling
as he scrambles to get his pants open. "Goddamnit," he can't understand buttons
right now, because Derek's been grinning up at him from in front of Stiles'
crotch, since Stiles figured it out. It’s a shit-eating grin, like he knows he
just blew Stiles’ mind even before his lips touch Stiles’ dick.
It's distracting as hell. Stiles wants to kiss him, but he'd rather get blown.
"I could rip them," Derek suggests, and that makes Stiles hurry. He isn't
entirely certain that Derek is serious, but he's not sure that he isn't,
either. The caveman-carrying-Stiles-upstairs thing had been fun, but Stiles
likes these pants.
Derek's hands are kneading his thighs, the thumbs rubbing Stiles' inseam, and
when Stiles gets unbuttoned and unzipped Derek pinches a little, getting the
jeans and tugging them down a bit. He pulls Stiles forward even more, and
Stiles lets himself be moved. He helps Derek pull his jeans down, and realizes
at the same time Derek does, it severely limits his movement. He might be on
top, but he can't move his legs, and spread across Derek's chest is as far as
he can go.
Derek's smirking up at him, and grabs Stiles by his waist to pull him forward,
making him lurch, unbalanced, before he flails and catches the headboard.
"Derek!" Stiles shouts, but then he gets it. He's tipped forward and sure, kind
of hampered by the fact that he can't really move his legs, but his crotch is
in Derek's face. He moves one arm, thinking about getting himself out of his
underwear, but faster than Stiles can register Derek is slapping his hand away
and just, God, rubbing his face against Stiles' dick and nosing it, inhaling
deeply.
"Oh God," Stiles says, somewhere between a moan and a whine. He never thought
that someone sniffing him would be a turn on, and it shouldn't be, but maybe
getting with a werewolf is going to desensitize Stiles to all sorts of things
or twist them in new and exciting and fucked up ways. "Derek, can you just,"
Stiles is about to beg when Derek tugs his underwear down and holds Stiles’
dick, swallowing quickly all the way to his fist. "Fuck!" Stiles yells, and
shudders, barely controlling a thrust forward that his hips are straining to
make. Derek's other hand moves to grip Stiles hip, and tugs him, almost as
if... "Are you - ah, God, tongue, please Derek," Stiles says, because it feels
so good that the words he really wants to say aren't as forefront in his mind
as a jumble of tongue and holy fuck and Derek.
Somehow Derek gets it, and correctly interprets that Stiles wants to know if
he's allowed to move, to fuck Derek's mouth. He hums a little around Stiles'
dick, as much of a verbal affirmation as Stiles is likely to get without
pulling his cock out. Stiles moves, a short, hesitant thrust forward, and it's
so - Derek's mouth is wet, hot, and his tongue is moving, rubbing under Stiles,
and he's never felt like this. First blowjob, check, from the werewolf that
took his virginity too. The strength of Derek is on display here, with Stiles'
weight on his chest and he's not - Stiles wonders if he'll remember to ask
about werewolf lung capacity, or if Derek's going to suck his brains out while
sucking his dick, and has a fleeting thought of zombies before he’s back to
Derek, fondling his balls and sucking so good.
"Oh my God," Stiles says again, as Derek's hand gentles on his hip, resting
there instead of guiding as Stiles keeps thrusting, and it keeps getting better
because Derek is amazing, how is it possible to make someone feel this good,
Stiles never wants it stop. He can't control himself and Derek doesn't seem to
mind, his thrusts getting harder and quicker, literally fucking Derek's mouth.
If that weren't the best thing, it would be that Derek is letting him. "Oh,
fuck, Derek, this is so good, so good, you're so," Stiles cuts himself off,
moaning, his hips working almost in a rush as though he has to continue, has to
do it as fast as possible because he's not sure when it will end, how long
he'll be allowed this.
He's arched over Derek, head hanging between where his arms are braced, hands
gripping the headboard. He's sweating, and his thighs are shaking, and he can't
last much longer while he's feeling this good. He's going to come soon, and
Derek's tongue is paying special attention to under the head of Stiles' cock,
tasting the pre-cum and just lapping it up like it's the best thing Derek's
ever tasted, moaning around Stiles.
"Derek, I've got to come, please," Stiles says, his body burning with this.
He's going to come, and he's begging Derek, asking permission, and Derek just,
"Oh holy fuck!" Stiles shouts, because Derek moves his hand off of Stiles' cock
and pulls him forward. His throat is swallowing around Stiles, his tongue
curling, cheeks hollowing as Derek sucks him down. Stiles' reaction is
instantaneous, and Derek must have known it would be, because he's holding
Stiles in place as he starts to come, shooting down Derek's throat.
Stiles is shuddering on top of Derek as Derek swallows him, swallows
everything, and Stiles is pretty sure his first blowjob just spoiled him for
life. He's never seen this in porn, even, and maybe it's some sort of weird
werewolf breath capacity, but Derek doesn't even let him pull out completely
until he's gotten every last drop out of Stiles. His tongue rubs hard under
Stiles' dick, tracing that vein there, and Stiles can't help the loud moan and
the full-body twitch as he somehow comes that last little bit more.
Derek finally lets Stiles go, pulling off with a dirty and wet pop, and yeah,
"wow, better than porn," Stiles can't help but say. His grin is so big it's
painful at the sound of Derek's laugh, rare enough, and hoarse from Stiles'
dick.
"Quite the compliment, coming from a teenage boy," Derek says drily, and
somehow that makes Stiles blush more than what they just did. It's his voice,
Stiles thinks, because he - his dick - made Derek sound like that. He preempts
Derek's next move, hitching up his pants just enough to move off Derek's chest
and sit back on his hips, and lets Derek roll them both over. He can feel
Derek's dick, hot and hard against his thigh, and feels the low coil of
pleasure start again in his belly.
Derek doesn't fuck him, which disappoints Stiles, but he does jerk off on
Stiles, not letting Stiles touch him at all which is disappointing, but Stiles
gets over it pretty fast. He starts to get hard again before Derek even starts
coming. It's so hot, watching Derek get himself off, as he comes on Stiles'
chest, and on his stomach. "Close your eyes," Derek growls, and quickly Stiles
does because Derek's coming on his face, too, and it's - god, so dirty, so hot.
Stiles gasps, mouth falling open, and Derek groans again, droplets of his come
landing on Stiles' cheeks and lips as Derek arches over him.
Derek plants the hand not jerking himself off on the bed, holding himself over
Stiles, leaning down. Stiles licks his lips and tastes Derek, just before Derek
bites his mouth in a ruthless kiss. They kiss until Derek stops coming, and
Stiles draws him down, gasping as Derek's hand wraps around Stiles half-hard
dick. "Hell yeah," Stiles says, and Derek shuts him up with another kiss.
---
Derek leaves the house when Stiles is ready to go, which is a relief for
Stiles. He still isn't sure about the 'what's yours is mine' type of thing that
packs have, particularly the alphas, but his house is his, and his dad's. Derek
holds the back door shut when Stiles tries to open it and leans forward to kiss
him, tongue slipping in as soon as Stiles opens his mouth, too rough to be a
normal kiss. This is a pre-sex kiss, and Stiles likes that he has enough
experience in those matters to recognize it. Derek's hand on the back of his
head holds Stiles still, and almost fucking Stiles' mouth with his tongue, and
fuck if it doesn't make Stiles whimper.
"Come over after your meeting," Derek says after he pulls back, then he's out
the door, leaving Stiles gaping after him. Meeting? Oh, with Scott. Derek is a
tease, and Stiles is kind of shocked about it.
"So...can I have your number?" Stiles asks, running out the door. Derek stops
and turns, blinking at him, and Stiles wonders he was somehow too forward, when
Derek's breath still smells like Stiles' come. Or maybe Derek doesn't have a
phone, but that's ridiculous. "You do have a phone, don't you?" Stiles is
suspicious now.
"Yes," Derek says, rolling his eyes. He steps closer, and Stiles wonders if
it's a learned response already that instead of getting nervous about having
Derek so close, he's excited. Derek plucks Stiles' phone out of his pocket and
taps in his number, and then tucks his fingers into Stiles' pocket when he puts
the phone back.
"Ah," Stiles can't help but say, because Derek is purposely brushing close to
his dick and it's distracting. "Stop that," he protests, and then his eyes
widen as he realizes what he said, and how Derek just looks amused. Stiles
leans forward, kisses him closed-mouthed, and groans at the way Derek's fingers
are curled in his pockets. "Okay, okay, I'm coming after seeing Scott, stop
teasing me."
"Who's teasing?" Derek, for all of his being a wolf, sure smiles like a shark.
Stiles groans again when Derek brushes his hardening dick, and Derek freezes.
"Are you actually hard again? Seriously?" Stiles huffs a laugh, and leans his
head down to rest against Derek's shoulder.
"Derek, I'm 16, and you - you could probably talk me into coming, honestly. I
get hard when I hear a car that sounds like yours, dude," Stiles says, and
isn't sure whether he's happy at or annoyed with Derek's laughter. "Hey, stop
that, because I'm positive that," you have the same problem, Stiles starts to
say, but Derek tilts Stiles’ head up to kiss him instead.
"I'm flattered," Derek says when he pulls away, and Stiles is dazed, feeling
him pull away and then watching him walk to his car. "After your meeting,"
Derek reminds him, meeting Stiles' eyes, and Stiles nods. He'll go up to
Derek's creepy house and they might talk, but they're 2-0 for sex type things,
so Stiles is pretty sure that he can expect that.
"Yeah," Stiles says, and turns away when Derek sits down and shuts the door.
He's happy he talked Derek out of meeting Scott with him, because then he can
work on Scott and get him to agree, but he's also nervous. Really nervous. Not
that he wants to be or should be, because Scott is one of the most sincerely
nice people.
It's just that Stiles knows what Derek is capable of, because Derek doesn't
hold back. Stiles knows what Scott is capable of because he knows what Derek is
capable of. Scott, himself, doesn't know what he's truly capable of. It's not
something that Stiles is going to make him figure out alone, but he just wishes
that things...were easier, somehow.
He emailed Scott again before Derek left, and told him he is still planning on
coming over. Scott replied with one word: Sure, and hadn’t answered Stiles’
question of what he’d been doing at his house in the first place. Stiles isn't
looking forward to this, but he actually is, at the same time. In a totally
weird and intimidating sort of way, it's exciting. As he walks back to his
house he emails Scott from his phone to tell him that he'll be leaving shortly,
and then smirks.
He has Derek's number. Stiles grins outright when he opens a text message to
send to Derek. I want to blow you. Too forward? Absolutely, Stiles thinks, and
sends it anyway. Derek will appreciate it.
---
They go grocery shopping, as Stiles originally planned, and as he promised
Derek. "Well, we'll be in public," Stiles had said finally, "so if you really
want to come and defend me that's totally cool, if you both feel like risking
secrecy and all of that." Derek growled at that, but continued drying off.
Originally he hadn't even wanted to let Stiles shower, because he liked the way
Stiles looked and smelled with Derek all over him, but Stiles solved that
pretty easily when he suggested that they shower together.
"You belong to me, Stiles," Derek said, and it sounded like a reminder, one
that Derek seemed to think he'd given before. "If he hurts you," Derek trailed
off suggestively, and Stiles hid his shiver under the towel he had draped over
him like a cape. And then Derek started drying him off, seeming to like the
physicality of it. Stiles liked it too, certainly more than he liked hearing
Derek threaten his best friend, so he figured that that was kind of the point.
So, they go grocery shopping. Stiles is clutching the list he and his dad made,
and Scott is trying to look everywhere except at Stiles. "So," Scott says, and
Stiles catches him glancing at the list. "You need more milk."
"Yeah, used the last of it this morning," Stiles says, meaning for it to be
offhand, but catches Scott wince. "Look, so you walked in on something you
didn't want to see and I get it, but let's move past that and talk about what
we actually need to talk about, okay?" Stiles asks, and Scott clenches his jaw.
"Like what?" He asks, and Stiles rolls his eyes so hard he almost runs the cart
into a display. Scott isn't stupid, and so what if this is a whole lot of
awkward. He knows that Scott knows that they need to talk, it's just that he
doesn't want to.
Stiles opens the glass door, and thinks about how to approach this, but being
angry at Scott and showing it has always worked best for him. "Like the fact
that you flipped the fuck out when I mentioned the word pack," Stiles says, and
grabs some skim milk.
"If your meaning of the word pack means sitting on Derek's lap and writhing
then don't bother," Scott is adamant, and Stiles is pissed. He's quiet for a
moment, biting back the words he wants to say, pursing his lips to ensure it.
He's glad Derek's not here, because Scott wouldn't be breathing properly
through the broken nose he'd be given otherwise.
"My meaning of the word pack is keeping your ass alive," Stiles says, when he
is sure he won't yell, "and my - shit, my relationship with Derek won't ever be
the same as whatever we have," Stiles says, gesturing to show that he means
Scott and himself, "or whatever you and Derek form." Scott is looking at him,
really eying him, and it makes Stiles uncomfortable and annoyed on top of the
anger he feels.
"You're doing this because of me, though," Scott eventually says, trailing
after Stiles as he looks at the eggs. "You wouldn't have to do this if I wasn't
what I am," Scott sounds guilty now, which eases some of Stiles' frustration.
"It's - he's not - Scott, I am a willing participant in whatever we do," Stiles
says carefully, as a little old lady passes them. God, he hates Saturday
grocery shopping. It's almost as bad as Sunday grocery shopping.
"How can you say that?" Scott's desperate voice interrupts him. "You aren't
even gay! And he's a guy, and a werewolf on top of that," he gets quieter as he
goes, and Stiles thanks God for that.
"Um," Stiles says, and looks at Scott, finally meeting his eyes because Scott's
actually looking at him. "I'm not gay, no. I guess I'm bi? And I think the fact
that he's a werewolf is kind of the point, dude," Stiles wasn't aware that he'd
have to cover his sexuality during this conversation, too, but it's easier if
he's honest. He kind of thought that Scott knew, the same way his dad just kind
of knew. So he never officially talked to Scott the way he did his dad, but
still. He assumed that Scott know.
"Okay...but. I just don't understand how you can almost whore yourself out like
that, for me to be in pack. I mean, I don't understand how it's necessary for
him to," Scott stops and looks like he might gag, so Stiles assumes he's
thinking about when he walked in on Stiles and Derek. Stiles is more interested
in the first part of what Scott said, though.
"Whoring? You asshole, I cannot believe - okay," Stiles says, and stops the
cart in front of the frozen vegetarian meals, which no one ever eats. He's so
angry, and he didn't expect this. He's talked Scott into almost literally
everything they've ever done. This is bigger and worse than everything, but
that doesn't make it any different, shouldn't make it harder. "I'm not whoring
myself out, for you." Stiles jabs Scott in the chest, hard enough to make him
take a step back. "I wouldn't do that, it's not how it's done in the pack.
There's no coercion or anything like that because it's all about trust, and
stability, and if you'd fucking listen you'd - okay," Stiles says again,
slowly. "Maybe originally, Derek and I discussed it because of you, but it's
good, all right? It's protection for me and my dad, and it's belonging for me.
And really good sex," Stiles rolls his eyes at Scott's mounting panic before
adding, "for me."
"All right," Scott allows, after a moment. They've moved on, and Stiles still
isn't very good at this grocery shopping thing, because they need to backtrack
and get bread, and a bunch of other stuff. Scott just trails after him, though,
lost in thought when he's not eying Stiles speculatively. "So if I don't have
to - with him, what would I have to do?"
Stiles is pretty impressed with himself, and how cool he's being, considering
that he knows this means he won. He just has to explain everything in such a
way that Scott doesn't freak the hell out. "Heh, right. It's not going to be
easy. You know that Derek's my alpha?" Stiles waits for Scott's wary nod. "You
submit to him. Not like that, asshole. You just, you defer to him. It's what
allows him to have the power to protect you. And he has to...well." Stiles
knows exactly how to play this, now. It's like when his cousin let her parents
assume she was pregnant, and she really had just gotten her belly button
pierced. If he lets Scott think the worst, maybe a bite won't seem too bad.
"Oh my God, I knew it. He will need to have perverted werewolf sex with me,"
Scott says, and looks so horrified that Stiles is almost offended on Derek's
behalf. But that's a little ridiculous, so instead Stiles just frowns. He's not
the jealous and possessive one in this - Stiles winces when he realizes that he
already called it a relationship - Derek is. So he probably shouldn't be mad
about Scott besmirching Derek's honor, or whatever.
"Dude, no. You need to be bitten again," Stiles says, and it's both hilarious
and horrifying, how that makes Scott relax. Fucked up, too. More and more, a
thought running through Stiles' mind has been 'how is this my life.'
"That's it? He just has to bite me?" Scott asks, and Stiles nods. Stiles is
kind of weirded out at how thoughtful Scott is, and not at all oh my God a
werewolf has to bite me, which is exactly how Stiles would be. Stiles side-eyes
Scott, and figures that it must put a different spin on things, to already be a
werewolf, to have already been bitten.
"Uh, yeah. That's it," Stiles knows he won't be able to keep the sarcasm out of
his voice, so he doesn't even try. Really, Scott thinks getting bitten is no
big deal, but Stiles gets to have sex with Derek and it's like he's brain
damaged? It's fucked up, is what it is.
"So...I just have to get bitten again? That should work?" Scott asks again,
watching Stiles grab Cheerios - two boxes - off the shelf. "And it'll heal like
the other one did? It seems too easy," Scott says suspiciously, and Stiles
can't help the incredulous little laugh that slips out.
"Easy? You think getting bitten is easy? We have very different definitions of
easy, my friend. The blowjob I got this morning was easy," Stiles over-
enunciates the last word, and Scott's eyes are so comically wide, trained on
Stiles, that he runs into a shelf. Stiles feels pretty happy about it.
"He gave you a blowjob?" Scott hisses the question quietly, and Stiles just,
God. Yeah, Derek gave him a blowjob. He remembers it vividly, too, and wants to
be back there, heavy on Derek's chest but not too heavy, not for a werewolf.
"Yeah," Stiles says, and lets himself grin. Scott nudges him and glares because
Stiles drifted off to a happy land of Derek and sex, and Stiles snaps back to
the present. "Stop looking at me like he's molesting me, dude. I chose this,"
Stiles says, noticing the way Scott is eying him.
"It's not that. Okay, it's a little that, but...I know he's not a bad guy. He's
weird, and kind of murder-y, but not bad," Scott says, like he's making some
grand concession. Stiles has to admit that everything he said is true, though,
so he keeps quiet. "I'm kind of, oh my God, I can't believe I'm going to admit
this. It's just that - Allison won't," Scott doesn't continue, but he gestures,
and suddenly Stiles gets it.
"Oh my God she won't blow you? I've probably gotten laid more in these past two
days than you have the entire time you've been dating Allison," Stiles says,
kind of in awe of just how awesome that is. Not that it's a competition, but he
does feel like taking a victory lap around the store. And he gets more sex
soon, when he goes to see Derek.
"You're dating -" Stiles winces at that word, because it's not really dating,
"- an older guy, Stiles. How do you know he's not just using you for sex?"
Scott asks, and Stiles isn't sure of how to convince him that Derek isn't. He's
not wholly convinced himself. But he has his suspicions that it's kind of,
well, the opposite. They aren't dating, they mostly talk and have sex, but
Stiles feels like Derek is invested in him. In them.
Stiles knows that it's another thing that they have to talk about, because
Stiles is 16, but he gets the creeping feeling that he is just as invested, and
he needs to know how and why. Except he thinks that he already knows, because
it's pack. "It's not just sex," Stiles says firmly. "Plus, you're dating an
older chick, how's that going for you?" Scott chokes on air, and Stiles grins
as he coasts along, pushing the grocery cart toward the checkout lanes.
---
Stiles makes Scott take the cart over to one of the drop-offs, and when Scott
gets back he has a determined look on his face. "What?" Stiles asks, putting
the jeep in gear and craning to see where he's backing up.
"You smell like him, you know. Like, you reek of Derek," Scott says, and Stiles
doesn't swerve, but it's a near thing. He knows that werewolves have really
good senses of smell, but it's another thing to talk about it. "Before you just
smelled like you, your family, but now you - dude, it's like he marked you,"
Scott shudders, and Stiles flushes. He can feel when Scott turns to stare at
him, all agog. "He marked you? Oh my God, oh my God," Scott says faintly, and
looks like he wants to hurl himself out of the car.
"Not like that, you freak! Not like - like a dog, ew. He...um. Claimed me,"
Stiles quickly says, and then takes a hard right turn, purposely so that Scott
will slam into the door. He hears the groceries move, but nothing seems to
topple. Win.
"Claimed you, like - oh, my God. That's disgusting," Scott says, but Stiles has
to disagree. It's really not disgusting at all. "I can't believe you let him do
that!" Stiles isn't sure what brought this on, except that maybe making Scott
take the cart gave him too much time to think.
"What, fuck me?" Stiles asks, because he's pretty sure that's what Scott is
freaking about. "Of course I let him fuck me. It feels awesome," Stiles is
completely truthful and a little vindictive when he says it, and Scott winces,
shocked.
"I think I'm going to puke," Scott says faintly, but it's all for show.
"Between my mom and your dad, you'd think you'd get the safe sex lecture a
thousand times, Stiles! But you let him," Scott gestures words he refuses to
say, and this conversation is making Stiles blush so hard oh my God. "He's a
werewolf, who knows what he could give you? Allison and I always use a condom,"
Scott says, proud.
"I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with you," Stiles says, and is a
little scared that he didn't think of it, but the thing is, he doesn't think
that Derek would do that to him. Or could, rather. "I don't think there's any
sort of werewolf herpes, Scott, but you be sure to ask Derek later, okay? Also,
fuck you, don't you dare give me any sort of a safe sex lecture, because I know
I'm safe with Derek, but you," Stiles stops, because he really doesn't want to
have this conversation. They're almost to his house, and then they'll unload
groceries, and then he'll drop Scott off and go see Derek, where they'll talk
and have sex and Stiles won't have to hide.
Stiles doesn't want to have this conversation. Scott has control issues,
everyone knows this. Scott apologizes for them so frequently he might as well
apologize with every breath. Stiles is pretty sure he knows what's coming next,
in fact. "Sorry," Scott says, dejected, because he knows that Stiles has a
point, but it doesn't feel like winning so much as kicking someone when they're
down. "I just worry," Scott says, and yeah. Stiles gets that.
"I worry too, okay? But the thing about the pack is that, well, I guess they
have your best interests at heart," Stiles says, and so he's paraphrasing what
Derek told him, but the gist is the same. Stiles has always had Scott's best
interests in mind, and now he has help. "Taking care of each other, and all of
that."
"That doesn't sound too bad," Scott says, and Stiles understands that to mean
that he's won. He knows Scott, and knows that he’ll refuse a little bit longer
because he feels like he should, but he’ll agree. Stiles gives it a week. “What
are we doing after this? I was thinking about going to see a movie?” Scott
asks, hopeful. Stiles is torn, because he hasn’t spent much time with Scott
this week.
Sure, he sees him in school, but Scott’s been avoiding him out of some not-
entirely-misguided fear for Stiles’ safety. “You mean the one that Allison
doesn’t want to see?” Stiles perks up, because he wants to see it too. “Zombie
Facers?” His dad always lets him keep the leftover cash from when he goes
grocery shopping, so Stiles has about twenty in cash on him, a little more at
home. But, Derek told him to come over. Not asked, but told, and Derek’s his
alpha, and Stiles knows it’s some sort of pack type dynamic that’s rewriting
his brain, to make him feel awful and preemptively guilty for even thinking
about not meeting him. “I, um. Promised I’d see Derek after this.”
Scott is quiet for a moment, and when Stiles chances a look at him when they’re
stopped at a light he looks determined. “Invite him, then,” Scott says firmly.
“I’m going to have to get used to the two of you, I guess.” Stiles gapes at
him, but recovers quickly enough. Scott is serious.
“Oooh-kay,” Stiles says, and glances up at the light. Still red, so he has time
for sending a text to Derek, and sees that he has a reply from him. I’m going
to make you scream. Well, it’s hot and threatening and kind of cheesy, which
pretty much sums up Derek, Stiles thinks fondly.
Rain check? Scott wants to see a movie tonight. You and I, and him. Stiles
sends, and quickly pockets his phone again because when he looks up, the cross-
traffic’s light is yellow.
“Do you think he’ll come?” Scott asks, and already sounds like he regrets
asking. Stiles wonders, thinks about Derek sitting in the house alone, working
through who the alpha could be or whatever, and feels a tug in his chest at how
lonely it must be. If Derek doesn’t join them, Stiles will probably just lie to
his dad and say he’s eating with Scott, and then grab a pizza or something to
take over to Derek’s after the movie.
But Stiles doesn’t think he’ll have to. “Yeah, I think he’ll come. I hope he
does,” Stiles adds, completely truthful. He doesn’t meet Scott’s gaze even
though he can feel the weight of it. When he pulls into his driveway Derek
still hasn’t responded, so Stiles quickly sends, Please come? We can get dinner
after. We’ll need to practice the 3 of us getting along anyway.
“What’d he say?” Scott asks, already unloading the groceries. Stiles blesses
werewolf strength, because Scott has most of them on one trip. He grabs a bag,
picking out his house key with the other hand, and walks toward the door.
Stiles shrugs, indicating that Derek hasn’t answered yet. At Scott’s frown he
elaborates, though. “He hasn’t replied,” Stiles says, and holds the door open
for Scott. They set everything on the counter, and Stiles eyes the stool that
Derek sat in while they made out. Scott heads out to get the rest of the
groceries while Stiles starts putting everything away. Stiles’ phone blinks at
him, a light indicating that he has a new message, and he checks it before
Scott comes back in.
Fine. Stiles grins.
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