Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/704772.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall, Isaac_Lahey, Erica_Reyes,
      Kali_(Alpha_Pack), Ethan_(Alpha_Pack), Aiden_(Alpha_Pack), Deucalion_
      (Alpha_Pack)
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-03-02 Words: 10481
****** Non-Traditional ******
by combefemme
Summary
     On Friday night Stiles has plans to go to Scott's house, play video
     games, eat junkfood, not think about Derek, and pass out sometime
     around four in the morning.
     The universe, as it turns out, has other plans.
     He doesn't make it to Scott's.
Notes
     This is dedicated to the lovely Emerald.
See the end of the work for more notes
The first time it happens Stiles is beaten down and broken and doesn't bother
to think twice when Derek slides his bedroom window open. He doesn't move when
Derek makes his way towards him where he sits on the edge of his bed; doesn't
look up when Derek crouches down in front of him, taking his face in his hands,
turning it this way and that, surveying the damage.
Stiles doesn't say anything when Derek's nimble fingers slide his shirt up and
he ghosts his hands across bruised ribs.
Looking back on that night, Stiles isn't sure why he allowed all this to go on.
Except that maybe it's what he needed. He'd been brutally beaten. He'd watched
Jackson die twice. He'd crashed his jeep through the wall of a warehouse.
And that was just tonight.
That doesn't include having a gun held to his face or watching his father be
knocked out or being paralysed and helpless.
Now, here, in his bedroom with recent events finally sinking in, Stiles'
victory on the lacrosse field seems like a distant dream.
So, maybe it's not surprising that he responds in kind when Derek's attention
finally moves back up to his face, to his lips, kissing him deeply but gently.
Stiles didn't even know Derek knew how to be gentle.
In retrospect, Stiles thinks, he should have reacted. If not to push Derek
away, than at least to question his motives.
XxXx
Things steadily progress from there.
Derek's presence in Stiles' bedroom becomes a regular occurrence and as Stiles'
bruises and scrapes heal, Derek's lips become less gentle, his hands more
insistent.
He never pushes, though. He's happy to pin Stiles to his bed, shirtless and
panting, kiss him until his lips are swollen, suck new bruises into his skin,
but his hands never drift too low. Not even when Stiles keens and begs for
more.
And isn't this just a great time for Derek to suddenly sprout morals, Stiles
thinks.
Stiles still doesn't ask questions. Not when Derek slips in his window late at
night. Not when he slips back out a few hours later. Especially not on those
rare nights when his dad isn't home and Derek stays until morning, holding him
close as they both sleep.
He doesn't ask Derek what this is, what they're doing, why him.
And he certainly doesn't ask himself why this feels so natural, so right.
What he does do is take an extra ten minutes in the shower on the mornings
after Derek visits, scrubbing at his skin in an attempt to rid himself of the
scent. He washes his sheets on a more regular basis, too. As well as always
having a bottle of Fabreeze on hand.
Scott can't know.
He's not entirely sure why that's the only part of this situation that he's
certain about except that maybe it's because he doesn't want Scott asking
questions he doesn't have answers to; questions he's not willing to ask
himself.
XxXx
And so it goes. The days turn into weeks, the weeks into months. He spends his
days playing video games or practising lacrosse with Scott and, more often than
not, Isaac (which Stiles really doesn't get. Scott wants nothing to do with
Derek but has no problem hanging around with his second in command? C'mon).
Even Jackson and Lydia come out a few times and the five of them usually just
end up hanging out and who ever thought that Stiles and Scott would willingly
hang out with Jackson?
They don't see Allison at all.
Stiles spends his nights on his computer, waiting to see if Derek will show up,
or in his bed, making out with Derek.
All in all, it's not a bad summer.
Except for the whole 'keeping secrets from not only his dad but also his best
friend now' part.
Sooner than he thought, though, the summer ends and Stiles suddenly finds
himself a junior. Things don't really change that much with the start of the
school year, though. There's still video games and preparing for lacrosse
season and Derek in his bed. But now there's also homework and curfews and
Allison in the hallways.
It doesn't get Scott down as much as Stiles thought it would. He still seems
pretty convinced that it's just a matter of time; that he and Allison are an
inevitability.
There's also the pointed absence of Erica and Boyd, whom nobody has seen since
the night the kanima died. Stiles had told Derek that night that the Argents
had them, but the last he'd heard Chris Argent had let them go. Derek wasn't
worried. He'd said that they'd been planning on leaving anyway.
He'd sounded unmistakably hurt when he'd told Stiles that.
XxXx
“I can't stay long,” Derek says as he climbs through Stiles' window.
Stiles looks up at him, not sure what to make of that statement. “So, just a
quickie, then?” he asks.
Derek chuckles, but his eyes do sweep over to the bed, looking at it almost
longingly. “No,” he answers. “I actually need your help with something.”
Ten minutes later, Stiles is halfway through an entry in some obscure online
journal about werewolf hierarchy and alpha dynamics when he finally turns to
Derek. He's reading over Stiles' shoulder and still has his eyes trained on the
screen.
“What do you need this for?” Stiles questions.
“I'm not sure yet,” Derek mumbles. “Can you print this off for me? I've gotta
get going.”
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles replies, turning back to his screen. He spins back around
in his chair as his printer grinds to life. “Seriously, though. What's with the
sudden interest in this stuff? I mean, shouldn't you already know most of
this?”
Derek gives a humourless laugh. “No, not really,” he says. “I was never meant
to be an alpha.”
Stiles just nods his head. He never knows what to say when Derek almost talks
about his family.
“A lot of this is about multiple alphas, though,” Stiles goes on when his
curiosity gets the better of him. “Why do you need to know about that? Does
that even happen?”
“Sometimes,” is the only reply he gets because at that moment the printer
finishes and Derek snaps the pages up, scanning them quickly with his eyes
before turning back to Stiles. “Thanks.”
Just before he turns and disappears out Stiles' window, Derek leans down and
places a kiss on his lips. A quick, chaste goodbye kiss, nothing like the
rushed, desperate ones he's used to.
Well, this is new.
XxXx
This is stupid. Stiles knows this is stupid.
It was just one little kiss. He shouldn't be obsessing over it like this.
Especially not when he hasn't given a second thought to any of the few hundred
others he's shared with Derek in the past few months.
But he can't help it. This one was different. More like their first. Soft and
gentle and confusing as hell. And suddenly it's a lot harder for Stiles to
convince himself that whatever is going on between him and Derek is no big deal
or that it's purely physical.
He won't ask, though. It feels like such a delicate balance as it is and asking
might shatter it.
He can't ask.
XxXx
He asks.
He doesn't mean to and in his defence it's totally not his fault.
Stiles is trying to push his hips upward in search of some blessed friction,
but Derek's hand on his hip isn't about to allow that and Stiles is going out
of his mind with want.
“C'mon, Derek!” Stiles pleads and immediately regrets it because, as always,
Derek takes that as his cue to stop completely.
With a final nip at his collarbone (which makes Stiles shudder, something Derek
knows and likes to use against him because he is evil) Derek pushes himself off
of Stiles and sits up, leaning against the headboard. Stiles groans and throws
his head back so hard it bounces on his pillow. Derek just smirks.
“Why do you do this to me?” Stiles repines and when Derek gives him a
sympathetic look and opens his mouth Stiles keeps talking, not wanting to have
to listen to Derek telling him that he's only sixteen again. “No, seriously.
What did I do to deserve this? I'm sure there's plenty of other people willing
to welcome you into their beds – plenty of of age people – so why the hell do
you choose to torture me?!”
Derek looks taken aback for a moment and Stiles suddenly realizes that he's
accidentally asked one of his Avoid At All Costs Questions.
But a second later Derek is smirking again and shrugs down at Stiles. “It's
entertaining.”
Stiles just huffs out a sigh, stares at his ceiling, and tries to ignore how
much that hurts.
XxXx
Coach Finstock holds lacrosse tryouts halfway through October.
Stiles is excited. He's been training for this for months (with three
werewolves, no less) and he's convinced he's going to make first line this
year. And he knows that after last year's championship game that people are
expecting him to shine. He doesn't intend to let them down.
So, needless to say, he's in high spirits as he, Scott, and Isaac enter the
locker room. Isaac seems to have become a permanent fixture in their lives and
it occurs to Stiles that he could be upset about how much time Scott spends
with their new friend now as opposed to him, but he just can't bring himself to
be angry with Isaac. And he's never been able to stay mad at Scott.
Besides, he's had other things on his mind.
Stiles drops his backpack at his feet and pulls his shirt over his head before
reaching for his locker. He doesn't get that far, though.
“Woah, woah, woah!” Scott is suddenly saying. “Stiles, do you have a hickey?”
“What?” Stiles' head snaps up to look at Scott, wide-eyed, before looking down
at his own bare chest. Sure enough, there's a purple bruise on his collarbone.
He slaps a hand over it. “No!”
“Dude,” Scott says, a smile breaking out across his face. “Who gave you a
hickey?”
“No one! No! Nothing!” Stiles stammers. “It's not. It's just a bruise. A
regular bruise.”
Stiles is a terrible liar. How has he been getting away with this for so long?
Scott narrows his eyes. “How did you get a bruise there?”
“Who knows?” Stiles replies, trying to shrug it off. “You know me. I'm clumsy
as hell and I bruise like a peach.”
Scott stares at him a moment longer before nodding his head and turning away.
He hasn't bought the lie, Stiles knows, but at least he seems willing to drop
it.
Stiles can tell that Isaac has been watching the exchange but when he looks
past Scott, Isaac immediately drops his gaze. And of course, Stiles thinks, of
course Isaac knows. As discreet as Stiles tries to be, he knows that Derek goes
home smelling like him all the time. Of course Isaac has put two-and-two
together by now.
Stiles is just grateful he hasn't mentioned it to Scott.
XxXx
A few hours later, Stiles is sitting in front of his computer killing zombies
when his window slides open.
“Hey,” he says without looking away from the carnage.
Derek chuckles and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “How was tryouts?”
Stiles pauses his game and spins around in his chair. “Awesome!”
“Make first line?”
Stiles shrugs. “Don't know yet. Coach is gonna post the roster tomorrow. But my
hopes are high.”
“Hmm,” Derek murmurs, leaning back on his hands. “I guess we should save the
celebrating till then, huh?”
Stiles' eyebrows shoot up for a second before he grins. “Or,” he says as he
stands and makes his way towards Derek. “We could celebrate my awesomeness on
the field today and then again tomorrow when I make first line.”
Derek just smirks and grabs Stiles by the wrist, pulling him down on top of
him.
They're about five minutes into what is turning out to be a very good makeout
session, Derek sliding his hands under Stiles' shirt and not even pushing him
away when he grinds his hips down, when the doorbell rings.
Derek tears his face away to look in the direction of Stiles' bedroom door,
which Stiles really just takes as an invitation to attack the newly exposed
skin of his neck.
“Ignore it,” Stiles murmurs but then Derek's hands are on his hips and he's
pushing him away. Stiles groans.
“It's Scott,” Derek says when the bell rings again.
The first thing that flashes across Stiles' mind is definitely not to call his
best friend a cockblock. Even though he totally is.
“Oh shit!” Stiles says when the situation catches up with him. “Please tell me
you had the presence of mind to park around the block.”
“Of course,” Derek replies and the bell rings again.
“Impatient much?” Stiles grumbles as he walks toward his bedroom door. He
wrenches it open and sticks his head out. “Just a second!” he yells in the
direction of the front door.
He turns back around to see Derek pulling his jacket back on.
“Your dad's not home tonight, right?” he asks and Stiles nods. “Okay. I'll be
back later.”
He takes a step forward and plants a final kiss on Stiles mouth before turning
and climbing back out the window.
Stiles files that one away to think about later.
As quick as he can, he grabs his Fabreeze and sprays his bedroom down, hoping
beyond hope that it will be enough for Scott not to notice. He rights his shirt
and heads for the front door.
“Sorry, dude,” he says when he opens the door. “What's up?”
Scott's looking at him suspiciously again.
“I need your help with my econ homework,” he answers. “I sent you like five
texts.”
Damn Stiles and his one-track-zombie-killing-mind.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” he replies. “Was playing Left 4 Dead.”
Scott nods his head and at least that clears that up.
“So, can you help me?” Scott asks.
“Yeah. No problem,” Stiles says and stands back to let Scott through.
As they make they're way through the house up to his room, Stiles silently
thanks the libido gods that just the thought of his best friend is enough to
kill his boner.
“So what did you need help with?” Stiles asks after taking a seat at his desk
and starting to pull his books from his backpack.
“Stiles, what the hell is going on?” Scott questions and Stiles looks up at
him.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, your room smells like you shampooed the carpet with air-freshener,”
Scott begins. “But you, dude, you smell like Derek.”
Stiles could kick himself. He hadn't even thought of that. Hadn't even
considered reapplying his deodorant or changing his shirt.
He tries to laugh it off anyway. “Don't be ridiculous--”
“You're lying to me again!” Scott cuts him off, angry now. “Just like you were
lying today in the locker room...”
When he trails off, Stiles knows it's over. He can tell the exact second that
it clicks in Scott's mind.
“No! Stiles, no!” he yells. “Are you out of your mind?!”
Stiles knew that if (and, yes, when) Scott found out, he wouldn't like it. He's
not expecting supportive behaviour on this one. Scott's disapproval still
stings more than he wants to think about, though.
“Derek?!” Scott keeps yelling. “Are you serious?”
Stiles takes small comforts in the fact that he had his Big Gay (Bi?) Freakout
when he was fourteen so at least he only has to worry about one revelation.
“What's wrong with Derek?” he finally asks and it's a stupid question, he knows
it's a stupid question, but he doesn't know what to say.
“You mean besides the obvious?” Scott fires back. “Like how he's violent and
dangerous and don't you two hate each other anyway?”
“He's not--” Stiles cuts himself off because yeah, he is. “And no. We don't
hate each other. A guy saves your life enough times and I think hatred is
pretty much off the table.”
“So, what?” Scott goes on. “Not-hatred suddenly equals sex now?”
“What?” Stiles asks. “No! It's not like that.”
“Oh, so Derek didn't give you that hickey?” Scott shoots.
“Well, yeah. He did,” Stiles admits. “But that's it. Just making out. No actual
sex.”
Stiles tries really hard to not sound bitter.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Scott questions.
“What?” Stiles replies because when did this become about Scott?
“You know what he's doing, right?” Scott presses on and when Stiles just stares
at him dumbly he continues. “He's using you, Stiles! Just like Peter tried to
do with my mom! He's using you to get to me!”
Stiles feels like he's had the wind knocked out of him.
“Right,” he says sarcastically, angrily. “Of course. Because everything these
days is about my super-special werewolf best friend with his gorgeous
girlfriend and his co-captain status. It's not at all possible that someone
might actually be interested in me for a change. I'm just useless, normal,
human Stiles, after all. Nothing to see here.”
“Stiles,” Scott begins and his voice is softer now, apologetic. “That's not
what I--”
“Get out, Scott,” Stiles cuts him off.
“Stiles, I--”
“Get out!” he yells.
Scott just stares at him for another moment, looking for all the world like a
wounded puppy, before he picks his bag up from the floor and turns. Stiles
doesn't move until well after he hears the front door shut behind him.
XxXx
A few hours later, Stiles finds himself sitting in front of his computer again,
this time staring at the Google homepage and trying to think of something to
distract himself. Killing supernatural beings – be they virtual or not – just
doesn't seem like a good idea right now.
Finally, he decides mindless Pack-Man or Tetris should do the trick.
He begins to type 'Arcade Games' into the search field but doesn't get passed
the 'A'.
'Alpha Werewolves' is the first thing Google decides to predict for him and he
thinks briefly of Derek reading over his shoulder and kissing him goodbye.
But then he's thinking of something else.
You're already an alpha of your own pack.
Wasn't that what Derek had told Scott? Back when they thought Lydia was the
kanima?
Do multiple alphas even happen?
Sometimes.
That night, for the first time in a long time, Stiles locks his bedroom window.
XxXx
The next day at school, Stiles sits with Allison at lunch.
She's concerned, because he and Scott never fight, not like this, but she
doesn't make him talk about it. He's grateful. He hadn't realized how much he's
missed having Allison around.
When he gets to the locker room after school, coach has already posted the
roster and yes, he did make first line. He's not as happy about it as he knows
he should be. He feels even worse when he turns to go to his locker and sees
Scott, whom he owes his new first-line-ness to, getting changed.
“Can we talk?” Scott asks when he approaches. “Please?”
Stiles sighs. “Yeah,” he replies but then notices Isaac over Scott's shoulder.
“But not here. Later.”
XxXx
Stiles has barely been home long enough to shower and change when there's a
knock on the front door signally Scott's arrival. He let's him in and the two
take seats across from each other at the dinner table.
“Look,” Scott begins, not waiting for Stiles to say anything. “About what I
said last night: I didn't mean it the way you took it. You've gotta know that.
I'm just worried because it's Derek and we still don't know Derek very well.
But, look, if you and him are ... I don't know. Whatever. If you really wanna
be with him then I won't be a jerk about it or anything it's just, be careful,
okay?”
Stiles huffs a laugh. “I don't think you have to worry about it anymore,
Scott.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you were right,” Stiles answers. “I think he was using me.”
“What?!” he demands and Stiles can't tell if he's angry on his own behalf or
Stiles'.
Stiles tells him about the research Derek had him do on alpha werewolves and
how it hadn't even occurred to him that it might have had something to do with
Scott until last night.
“It's stupid,” Stiles says. “I should have realized it sooner, but I guess he
had me kind of distracted.”
Scott's giving him an odd look and it takes Stiles a minute to place it. It's
the same look he was giving Scott a few months ago, after his first break-up
with Allison. Concerned and protective and thinking and only a little bit
pitying.
Stiles isn't sure how he feels about that. What he had with Derek is nothing
like what Scott had (has?) with Allison. They're not in love. Not even close.
And Stiles so totally does not want to call himself heartbroken. Except he has
no other word to describe what he's feeling.
He sighs and drops his face into his hands. He doesn't look up until Scott
rises.
“C'mon,” Scott says.
“Where?” Stiles asks.
“My best friend is looking heartbroken,” Scott replies and Stiles cringes at
the word. “So I'm going to get my best friend drunk.”
XxXx
Stiles makes it a grand total of four days without seeing Derek.
When he gets home from school on Friday, Derek is sitting on his front porch
steps waiting for him. Stiles eyes him cautiously as he gets out of his jeep.
“What are you doing here?” he asks as he makes his way towards the front door.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Derek stands as Stiles draws nearer.
“Avoiding you?” Stiles scoffs. “I closed my window, Derek. There's not much to
avoid when the only place I see you is my own bedroom.”
Stiles jams his key in the lock and opens the door. Derek follows him through
without invitation.
“Why did you close your window?” Derek almost sounds disappointed but Stiles is
pretty sure he's imagining that.
“Because I'm not doing this anymore,” Stiles replies, looking Derek right in
the eye. For a second something that looks like hurt flashes across his
expression, but that can't be right.
“Why?” Derek's attempt at a growl just comes out sounding lost.
“I'm not gonna let you manipulate me to hurt my best friend,” Stiles answers.
This time there's no denying the pain the flits across Derek's face.
He looks away. “You think I'm using you?”
“You want Scott in your pack,” Stiles replies with a shrug.
Derek nods his head and when he looks back his expression is hard. It shocks
Stiles a bit, even though he knows it shouldn't. This is Derek's default
expression. He should be accustomed to it. He used to be accustomed to it. He
hadn't realized how open Derek's face had become in the last few months.
He doesn't say anything, just turns and leaves. Stiles spends the rest of the
night convincing himself it was for the best.
XxXx
The following Monday, Isaac nearly falls asleep in the cafeteria during lunch.
“You okay, man?” Scott asks. “You look exhausted.”
Isaac grunts and lifts his head from where it landed on the table after he sat
down. “Derek's really upset about... something.”
Stiles tries to ignore the way Isaac's eyes flick towards him.
“And he takes it out on you?” Scott presses, concerned and angry.
“What? No!” Isaac answers quickly when he realizes the conclusion Scott is
jumping to. “He takes it out on himself. I just don't let him do it alone.”
When Scott just makes a face at him Isaac goes on, “He trains a lot harder when
he's got something on his mind. Like he's trying to distract himself. I like
trying to keep up with him.”
“I still don't get why you bother,” Scott replies as he goes back to his food.
Stiles hates that he physically has to bite his tongue to keep from jumping to
Derek's defence. He doesn't deserve it, he tells himself.
Isaac gets there first, anyway. “He's not as bad as you think he is. I don't
get why you hate him so much.”
“He took away my only chance to be normal,” Scott hisses back. “I never wanted
this. No one ever asked me for my permission. And then Derek said if I helped
him, he would help me, but he lied. He just wanted to use me.”
Isaac's brows furrow and he looks back down at the table. Stiles suddenly
wonders if he's heard about everything that happened with Peter before Derek
became alpha. He wonders if Isaac knows how Derek became alpha.
Isaac shakes his head and Stiles actually feels bad for him. Isaac never really
had friends before and he's already lost Erica and Boyd. Scott and Stiles are
all he's got and they're both (or at least Scott) pretty determined to hate
Derek. Derek, who took Isaac in. Derek, who takes care of him. Derek, who's the
closest thing Isaac has to family anymore.
Stiles doesn't blame the guy for wanting to give Derek the benefit of the
doubt.
“He wouldn't do that,” Isaac finally says. “Not without a good reason. He
doesn't use people like that.”
Scott shoots Stiles a look and he really just wants his best friend to leave
him out of this one.
“I guess power is a good reason to Derek,” is all Scott says and, thankfully,
the subject is dropped.
XxXx
Stiles is obsessing again. He really needs to stop doing this.
Derek's upset. Derek's upset and he's taking it out on himself.
Stiles tries really hard to convince himself that he's just pissed because his
plan didn't work.
He can't stop thinking about what Isaac said, though. Derek doesn't use people.
He remembers the look on Derek's face when he'd accused him of it.
He just wants his brain to shut up. At least, the part of it that keeps
replaying their last kiss.
XxXx
On Friday night Stiles has plans to go to Scott's house, play video games, eat
junkfood, not think about Derek, and pass out sometime around four in the
morning.
The universe, as it turns out, has other plans.
He doesn't make it to Scott's.
XxXx
When Stiles wakes up he has no idea where he is or how he got there. The last
thing he remembers is sitting at a red light on his way to Scott's. Then
everything goes dark. He assumes he got hit over the head.
The pounding in his skull further proves his theory.
When he finally manages to open his eyes it's to find that he's in a dank, dark
room with high ceilings and metal walls. He assumes it's one of the abandoned
warehouses in the ironworks.
“Morning, sunshine!” a sickly sweet female voice says from behind him.
Stiles rolls over – painfully – to see a pretty brunette woman sitting cross-
legged on the floor across from him. She's smiling at him and it would be
really charming if it wasn't so terrifying.
“Who are you?” he groans.
“Kali,” she replies brightly. She sure is an enthusiastic kidnapper, Stiles
thinks. That's not really what he'd been asking, though.
“What do you want with me?” he tries again.
Here her smile grows impossibly wider. “You're gonna help us bag an alpha.”
At least Stiles now has confirmation that this is, in fact, about werewolves.
Of course, what in his life isn't these days?
“You're hunters,” he says.
Kali laughs like he's said something incredibly funny, throwing her head back
and closing her eyes. When she opens them again, Stiles gets the joke. They're
red.
“You're werewolves,” he corrects. “Great. Just what I need. More werewolves.”
She just chuckles and the sliding metal door next to her scrapes open. Stiles
looks up to see two men entering the room. They don't look much older than
Stiles and they're clearly twins.
“Finally awake, is he?” the one on the right asks.
“Yup,” Kali answers, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. “Just a
minute ago.”
“How's your head feel?” the other twin asks, shooting his brother a none-too-
discreet look.
Stiles pushes himself up and leans against the wall behind him.
“Like it got clocked with a tire iron,” Stiles replies and looks at the first
twin. “I take it that's courtesy of you?”
He just shrugs in response but Kali smiles again, placing a hand on his
shoulder. “Aiden can get a bit carried away sometimes.”
“Hey, here's a question,” Stiles says and he's not really sure what he's doing.
He just knows that his head hurts and he's in trouble. Keeping these people
talking seems like as good an idea as any. “Why is it that I've got the big bad
alpha playing guard duty? Shouldn't that fall to one of the underlings? Or am I
just that special?”
The three of them exchange a look. Kali smirks, Aiden rolls his eyes, and the
other twin smiles softly. At least one of them seems to appreciate Stiles'
humour.
“Not quite,” Kali answers cryptically.
“Okay,” Stiles starts again. “How exactly is it that you expect me to help you
catch an alpha?”
He's carefully avoiding saying Derek's name. He doesn't know how much
information these werewolves actually have. For all he knows, they might not
even know who the alpha is. They could just be fishing.
“Oh, you don't have to do anything, slugger,” Aiden says and Stiles glares at
the nickname. “He'll come.”
Stiles snorts. “I doubt that. We're not exactly friends.”
“Oh, we know,” Kali says knowingly. “That's what we're counting on.”
Stiles' eyebrows shoot up when he realizes what she's implying. “You've got it
all wrong.”
“I don't think we do,” the still nameless twin replies. “Your Derek's done a
pretty good job of marking his territory.”
Well, there goes Stiles' they-don't-know-who-they're-looking-for theory.
“Yeah, right,” Stiles scoffs, but really he's just confused now. “I haven't
even seen him in a week.”
“Doesn't matter,” Aiden says. “You're marked.”
“I think I'd know if I was marked,” Stiles says the word like it's ridiculous.
Which it is.
“No you wouldn't,” Aiden tells him.
“Okay, maybe I wouldn't,” Stiles concedes. “But I'm pretty sure one of the
werewolves I hang out with on a regular basis would have thought to mention
something like that.”
“You're marked,” nameless says. “Not claimed. Those betas” -- he says the word
like it's a cuss -- “won't be able to tell. It's broadcast loud and clear to
every alpha that comes within scenting distance, though.”
Stiles still thinks it's a ridiculous notion. Even if it is true, though, it
can't mean what they think it means. It must just be an unfortunate side effect
of Derek trying to get close enough to earn Stiles' trust. Like they'd said,
it's not like he's been claimed. Whatever that means.
“Oh, Ethan, I still don't think he believes us,” Kali says sadly, pityingly,
and takes a couple steps forward to crouch down in front of Stiles.
“You better start believing it, kid,”Aiden speaks up. “You reek of him.”
Stiles gives him an odd look. “I thought only alphas could tell.”
“Yeah,” Kali answers and Stiles really doesn't like the smirk playing on her
lips now.
“But you're the alpha so...” he trails off as he looks up at the twins. They
both smirk as bright red bleeds into their irises.
Sometimes, he hears Derek's voice in his head again.
“Oh, shit,” Stiles says and drops his head back against the wall.
He was wrong.
XxXx
There are four werewolves in the alpha pack: Kali, Ethan, Aiden, and another
male named Deucalion whom Stiles hasn't actually seen yet but the twins had
gone off to join him in whatever it is he's doing.
Kali has reclaimed her seat on the other side of the room and sits watching
Stiles intently, not saying a word.
Stiles, for his part, feels like banging his head against the wall. It hadn't
been about Scott. Stiles still isn't sure what it was that was going on between
him and Derek, but it wasn't about Scott. Derek hadn't been using him.
He's less convinced now that Derek won't come for him, but he still hopes. He
doesn't deserve it.
“What do you want him for?” Stiles finally asks. “Are you looking to recruit or
something?”
Kali chuckles, but it's a dark sound that makes Stiles' skin crawl. “No,” she
answers. “He's not exactly the most competent alpha we've run across.”
Stiles really hates that he has to clench his jaw to keep from defending Derek
on instinct.
“Then what?”
“Well, when we first got to town we were fortunate enough to stumble across a
couple of runaway betas in the woods,” she tells him.
He feels his breath catch. “You have Erica and Boyd.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs. “The big one is stubborn but we took a real shine to
blondie. Unfortunately, they can't give up their alpha. The instinct is too
strong. There's a lot of technicalities that come with the whole werewolf
thing.”
“That doesn't explain why you want Derek,” Stiles points out.
She laughs softly. “We want to keep her, but we don't do betas.”
Everything is quiet for a moment and the gravity of what Kali just said sinks
in.
“She wouldn't,” Stiles whispers because... no. Erica wouldn't do it. She
wouldn't kill Derek. Would she?
“It was surprisingly easy to get her to turn on him,” Kali answers. “Once we
helpfully pointed out that he wasn't looking for her.”
“We didn't know,” Stiles chokes. “Or we would've.”
Kali just shrugs, that evil smirk still firmly in place.
“Okay but wait,” Stiles shakes his head, trying to collect his thoughts. “Derek
bit Erica. If she kills him won't that just, like, void the whole thing?”
Kali gives an exasperated sigh and rolls her eyes. “C'mon, Stiles,” she says.
“That's an old wives tale.”
“So killing the alpha that bit you doesn't cure you,” he states.
“No, Stiles, there is no cure,” she tells him. “It's permanent.”
Stiles sighs and closes his eyes. Everything is quiet for a moment.
“Why me?” he suddenly asks. “Why would he mark me?”
When he opens his eyes it's to see Kali smiling at him softly, sadly.
“It's not an accidental thing,” she answers. “It doesn't just happen because of
proximity. It was intentional. Instinctual. Probably because of danger in the
area.”
He raises his eyebrows at her and she smiles for a second.
“It means he wants to keep you, Stiles,” she goes on.
He lets out a sigh and bangs his head back against the wall.
“I'm an idiot.”
XxXx
About an hour later, Kali gives up her watch and Erica takes over. Stiles is
surprised by how much they seem to trust her already.
They sit staring at each other for far too long and Stiles hates this. He and
Erica had been becoming friends. It doesn't have to be this way. It shouldn't
be this way.
“We didn't know, y'know,” he tells her.
“Can it,” she replies, disinterested.
“I mean it, Erica,” he continues anyway. “I told Derek that the Argents had you
and he looked into it but Chris Argent let you go. And you told Derek you were
leaving anyway. If we'd known you were missing... if we'd known you were in
trouble we would've found you.”
“'We'?” she gives a humourless laugh. “Right. Because Derek cares more about
you, a human who isn't even part of his pack, than he does about his own
betas.”
“That's not true,” Stiles shakes his head.
“But he'll come for you,” Erica goes on. “And he didn't come for us.”
“You don't get to be angry at him for this,” Stiles says and he's angry now.
“You left him.”
Erica at least has the decency to flinch at the accusation. “It doesn't matter
now.”
Stiles shakes his head again. “You can't do this.”
She grins at him, white teeth flashing. “Watch me.”
XxXx
A few hours later a hand is clamped over Stiles' mouth and he's shaken awake.
He tries to jerk back on instinct, to no avail, as a mass of blonde waves comes
into focus in the darkness.
“Shh,” Erica is whispering to him. “Come with me and keep quiet.”
Stiles sits up as Erica drops her hand. “What's going on?” he asks because now
he can hear noises coming from the other side of that sliding metal door.
Shouts. Growls. The unmistakable sounds of fighting.
“We're getting out of here,” she says and pulls him up.
“What?” he asks as he follows her to the door. She slides it open, just a
little bit, and they peer through into the chaos on the other side. They're all
there: Scott, Derek, Isaac, Boyd, even Jackson. “What's going on?”
Erica looks at him and rolls her eyes. “What do you think?”
He just stares dumbly out at the violence. Scott and Isaac are each taking on a
twin. Derek's fighting Kali. Boyd and Jackson have teamed up on Deucalion.
“C'mon,” Erica says, grabbing his wrist and dragging him forwards.
As soon as he enters the room, though, something changes. Derek notices him and
looks up towards him. Their eyes meet and Kali takes the opportunity that's
presented to her. She slashes at Derek with the claws on her feet – and
seriously, what the hell?! – and he goes down. Without thinking Stiles calls
out and wrenches himself free from Erica's grasp to dart towards him.
He doesn't get there, though, because Kali grabs him from behind and holds a
clawed hand against is jugular. He tries to struggle, but she just presses
harder.
“Stop!” she calls to the room at large.
Immediately, everyone stills and a horrified silence falls over Stiles'
friends. The alphas all take on an air of triumph.
Kali rests her chin on Stiles' shoulder and tsk's at Erica. “You deceived me,
Blondie. That won't fly.”
She nods towards one of the twins – Aiden, Stiles thinks – and he grabs her.
Boyd and Isaac both instinctively move to help Erica but Kali just tightens her
grip on Stiles' throat and makes him hiss in pain.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she singsongs. “Move and I'll rip his throat out.”
Aiden drags Erica forward and forces her onto her knees in front of Kali.
“Now, we told you what would happen if you refused our offer,” Kali says.
“I didn't --” Erica starts, desperate.
“Don't,” Kali cuts her off, her voice dangerous. “Lie to me. Again.”
Erica gulps and falls silent.
“There's no getting out of this for you now,” Kali goes on before looking at
the room at large. “Not any of you. We came here for the abomination --” she
shoots Jackson a look “-- and instead we found a useless alpha and omegas and
humans who know too much. And now we have to clean up your mess.”
“So, what?” Stiles asks. His voice sounds odd because he's trying not to move
too much and he can't really breath very well. “You're, like, werewolf elitists
or something?”
“There are rules to this sort of thing,” Deucalion says. “And when those rules
get broken, we all get put in danger.”
“Okay,” Stiles says. “And you expect me to believe that killing innocents and
humans isn't breaking any rules?”
“There are exceptions to every rule,” Ethan replies.
“Exceptions,” Stiles parrots. “What if we're exceptions?”
His friends are all watching him with trepidation, wondering what he's doing.
All Stiles is thinking about, though, is Derek at his feet. He's still
breathing. He just needs time to heal.
The alphas exchange glances. “What do you mean?” Aiden asks.
“I mean,” Stiles begins and notices that Kali's death grip has loosened
somewhat. “That you say you have to kill us all because we could spill state
secrets. What if we don't? We haven't this far. We've taken care of all of our
problems in-house. Deranged alpha? Kanima? Not issues anymore. We're even on
good terms with our friendly neighbourhood hunters. And an astoundingly low
number of people have found out the truth.”
Okay, so maybe saying they were on good terms with the Argents was a bit of a
stretch but there hadn't been any hostilities to speak of recently so Stiles
was going to count it as a win.
“We can't risk it,” Ethan shakes his head. “Derek here only has one loyal beta
and there are four omegas running around. Omegas always turn rabid.”
“We're not omegas,” Scott suddenly says.
Deucalion gives him a dubious look. “You're all pack then?”
“Well,” Scott falters. “I mean, not in the traditional sense, I guess.”
Aiden scoffs and Kali says, “The traditional sense?”
“Yeah,” Scott goes on, gaining momentum. “Because maybe Derek's not my alpha,
but he's always been there when I needed him. And we've all stuck our necks out
for each other more times than I can count. We don't always get along but I
know I can count on each and every one of them if I need to. Isn't that more
important than some arbitrary hierarchy?”
“Some arbitrary hierarchy that doesn't even exist for you!” Isaac adds. “You're
all alphas. You're not a traditional pack, either.”
The alphas all exchange looks again but this time they seem to be at a loss for
what to say.
“And what about you?” Kali asks Erica. “When we found you, you were running
away. Are you still part of this funny little pack?”
Erica looks over at her shoulder at Boyd before turning back and saying, “Yes.
We were wrong. We just want to go home.”
Derek stirs then and everyone turns to him as he pushes himself upwards. Kali's
claws tighten again, ever so slightly, and she drags Stiles back a step. Once
on his feet, Derek looks around the room, scanning all the betas for injuries,
before his eyes land on Stiles and Kali. He drags his gaze up and down Stiles'
body, making sure he's alright before opening his mouth.
“Are you--” he begins.
“I'm good,” Stiles cuts him off, giving him a thumbs up. “Been better, but I'm
good.”
Derek nods and turns to Kali. “You came for the kanima. Well, it's dead. We
took care of it.”
Kali's eyes flick to Jackson and then back to Derek. “Can you keep this brood
under control?” she asks.
“Yes,” Derek says without hesitation. “But they don't need me to. They can
handle themselves.”
“Can they?” she asks, skeptical.
“Scott was bitten and abandoned,” Derek says. “And he learned control on his
own. Isaac found his anchor on his second full moon. Jackson and the kanima
were two separate entities. Jackson's never hurt anyone. Neither have Erica or
Boyd. None of them have.”
“You're being proactive,” Stiles says. “I get that. The best defence is a good
offence. But you're being proactive about something that's never going to
happen. We hold each other together and we've been through absolute hell
together. If we haven't fallen apart yet I highly doubt we ever will.”
It's all tense silence for a moment as the alpha pack look back and forth
between each other. Finally, Stiles sees Deucalion nod.
Kali removes her hand from Stiles' neck and shoves him towards Derek. He
catches him and they stare at each other for a second before she speaks.
“Take this as your warning,” she says. “If we ever have to come back here, we
will lay you all to waste.”
Derek nods. “Got it.”
XxXx
The alpha pack leaves after that and Stiles can't actually believe that they
all made it out of that alive. Derek has Jackson take Erica and Boyd home –
they need to see their families – with a promise to talk about everything
later. Which just leaves Stiles, Derek, Scott and Isaac standing outside the
warehouse. Derek's camaro is there next to Stiles' jeep which – miracle of
miracles – is untouched.
“What did you tell my dad?” Stiles asks.
“We had my mom call him,” Scott answers. “Said that we were locked in an
intense COD marathon so you'd be staying another night.”
Stiles nods. “Alright. So I'm staying at your place tonight?”
Scott opens his mouth to answer but Derek suddenly says, “No.”
“What?” Stiles asks.
“You're coming with me,” Derek says and before Stiles can protest he turns to
Isaac and Scott. “Take Stiles' jeep. Park it in front of your house so it looks
like he's there.”
And just like that, Derek grabs Stiles by the wrist and pushes him into the
passenger seat of his car. In the time it takes Derek to walk around the hood
to the driver's side, Stiles could get out and protest. Instead he just gapes
at Derek until he gets in next to him and starts the engine.
“What the hell?” Stiles asks as they drive away from a stunned Scott and Isaac.
“I'm keeping an eye on you tonight,” Derek answers.
That gives Stiles pause. He notices the way Derek's gripping the steering
wheel, the tense line of his shoulders, the way he's breathing deeply through
his nose.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Are you?” Derek shoots back.
“Yeah,” Stiles answers. He raises a hand to rub at the bruises on his neck. “I
mean, I'm a little worse for wear but I'll bounce back.”
Derek just shakes his head. “Jesus, Stiles, you were missing. I had no idea
where you were or if you were okay. And then, back there, she could've killed
you so easily.”
“She didn't,” Stiles replies. “I'm okay, Derek.”
“This is my fault,” Derek murmurs.
Stiles scoffs. “Don't be an idiot.”
“It is,” Derek insists. “I knew about them and I never said anything. I
should've warned you.”
“Why didn't you?” Stiles asks. “Say anything?”
Derek sighs. “I didn't know that they were going to be a problem. You and Scott
– all of you – you've had to deal with so much shit in the past year. I didn't
want to heap anything else on if I didn't have to.”
Stiles turns to look out the window. “Where are we going?” he asks when he
realizes he has no idea.
“My place,” Derek grunts.
Stiles turns to him. “You have a place?”
Derek side-eyes him. “You think I make Isaac sleep in an abandoned subway
station?”
Stiles laughs at that, but just a bit. Mostly it just hurts to know that if it
weren't for Isaac, Derek would still be living in an abandoned subway station;
that Derek wouldn't do anything good just for himself.
They pull into an apartment building and Derek leads Stiles up to the top
floor. It's only four storeys but there's no elevator and it's suddenly
starting to hit Stiles that he's just been through a harrowing experience, is
running on very little sleep, and hasn't eaten much in the past twenty-four
hours.
Derek's apartment is nothing spectacular and definitely has an air of being the
kind of place a squatter would live in which Stiles is just starting to think
is something that appeals to Derek. The far wall is all brick and there's a
precarious looking spiral staircase that leads up to a loft.
Derek walks towards the staircase and Stiles groans. “More stairs? Are you
trying to kill me?”
“Just come one,” Derek says and Stiles follows him up. There's a bed with a
nightstand and a dresser and Stiles collapses into the white sheets without
bothering to find out or care if that had been Derek's intention.
It must be, though, because instead of protesting Derek just says, “I'll get
you something to eat,” and disappears back down the stairs.
Stiles sits up and takes his shoes off before shimmying out of his jeans. He
discards his plaid button-up shirt, too, and leaves it all in a pile at the
foot of the bed. From this vantage point he can see pretty much the whole
apartment. There's a living room area with a big sectional couch and a coffee
table and a flatscreen TV. There are a couple of doors on one of the walls:
Isaac's room and the bathroom, he assumes. The kitchenette is directly below
him so he can't see it but he can hear Derek rooting around.
A moment later Derek's coming back up the stairs. He's got a plate with three
peanut butter sandwiches on it which he hands to Stiles before standing back.
Stiles practically inhales the first sandwich and devours half of the second
just as fast before looking up at Derek.
“Thanks,” he says.
Derek nods and looks uncomfortable. “I'll, uh, I'll sleep in Isaac's room,” he
says and turns towards the stairs again.
“I'm sorry,” Stiles suddenly blurts. Derek turns back to him. “About what I
said. That day at my house. I just assumed, but I should have asked you.”
Derek sighs and comes to sit next to Stiles on the edge of the bed, just far
enough away so their knees don't touch. “It's my fault,” he says. “I
shouldn't've expected you to just trust me. I've never really given you a
reason to.”
“What?” Stiles asks, looking over at him. “No. That's not what I meant.”
Stiles buries his face in his hands and runs his fingers through his hair. He
remembers Derek protecting him from Peter. He remembers Derek getting between
him and an out of control Isaac. He remembers Derek shoving him away from the
kanima, at his own expense.
“You've never let me down,” Stiles says, actually realizing it for the first
time. “And you didn't deserve it when I accused you of just using me. It's
just...”
When he trails off, Derek looks over at him. “Just what?”
Stiles meets his gaze. “It just didn't make sense. No one's ever been
interested in me, so why the hell would you be?”
Derek's eyebrows pinch in and his lips part slightly but he doesn't say
anything. Stiles tears his eyes away from Derek and stares down at his hands in
his lap.
“It just made more sense that it was about Scott,” he says quietly.
He sees Derek shake his head from the corner of his eye. “I'm sorry.”
“You don't have to apologize,” Stiles replies.
“Yeah, I do,” Derek says and watches him until Stiles meets his gaze again.
“Because if you were doubting my feelings for you that's my fault.”
“You have feelings for me?” Stiles asks.
Derek looks at him like he's an idiot. “What do you think?”
“I think you once told me that this was just entertaining for you,” Stiles
answers.
Derek visibly deflates and runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Stiles. I was
kidding.”
Stiles gapes at him. “That was you kidding?” he asks. “How about from now on we
leave the humour to me. We wouldn't want you to strain anything.”
“Shut up,” Derek says without heat.
Stiles grins at him and reaches across the space between them to grab his shirt
and haul him into a kiss.
XxXx
The rest of Stiles' sandwiches end up on the floor, having slid there when
Derek pushed him down onto the bed. Neither of them care, though, or even
noticed, too distracted by each other's lips and hands.
Stiles' hands slide up under Derek's shirt, his nails scraping against the taut
skin of his back and sides and Derek shoves a knee between Stiles' thighs. He
groans as he grinds down, feeling Derek press into his hip.
As always, though, when things start to get a little too heated, Derek starts
to pull away.
“C'mon,” Stiles protests and wraps his arms around Derek's neck to hold him in
place. He rolls his hips a little, feels Derek's erection through his jeans.
“You want this just as bad as I do.”
Derek's eyes flutter shut momentarily at the sensation, but he opens them again
and sighs. “I do,” he admits. “But...”
“But what?” Stiles asks. “Why don't you ever let this go any further? And don't
say it's because I'm sixteen because if that doesn't matter to me it shouldn't
matter to you.”
Derek rolls off of Stiles and lies down next to him. “I don't want to be her,”
he says softly, staring at the ceiling.
Stiles props himself up on an elbow and looks down at him. “Be who?”
Derek swallows and lets out a slow breath. “Kate.”
“Kate?” Stiles asks. “Kate Argent?”
“Yeah,” Derek answers, still not looking at him.
“I'm not following,” Stiles says, confused.
Derek closes his eyes and lets out a humourless laugh. “I was sixteen,” he
states. “And she was gorgeous.”
Stiles stares at him for a moment as that sinks in. “Oh, my god,” he breathes.
Derek turns his face away from him and suddenly Stiles feels panicked. He
pushes himself up and throws a leg across Derek, straddling his waist. He takes
his face in his hands and turns his head back so he's looking up at him.
“Hey,” Stiles says, desperate. “What happened to your family – what she did –
that's not your fault, Derek.”
“I trusted her,” Derek chokes. “I believed her. And the whole time she was just
using me to get to them.”
“Listen to me,” Stiles says. “Kate was a psycho bitch. She was twisted. And she
would've done what she did no matter what. That's not on you.”
Derek just looks away from Stiles eyes and then something else hits him. “And
you're not like her,” Stiles goes on. “Not even close.”
“You're sixteen,” Derek argues. “I'm almost twenty-two. And you already thought
I was using you. How different can I be?”
Stiles closes his eyes and leans down, resting his forehead against Derek's.
“I'm sorry,” he says. “I'm so sorry. I was wrong, okay?”
When he opens his eyes it's to find Derek watching him. They stare at each
other and the moment feels charged with something Stiles can't quite name.
“You deserve good things, Derek,” he says without thinking about it.
Derek's response is an initial look of shock but then he's tilting his chin
upwards and kissing Stiles again. His hands snake up Stiles' shirt and Stiles'
fingers bury themselves in Derek's hair. It starts slow but then get deeper,
more desperate, until Derek is flipping them both over and pinning Stiles to
the mattress again.
Stiles' hand drift downwards and start tugging on the hem of Derek's shirt
until he sits up and shucks it off. Stiles arches his back and rids himself of
his own t-shirt as well. Derek leans back down and runs his hands up Stiles'
sides as he buries his face in Stiles' neck and sucks a hickey into his skin.
Stiles moans softly and his hands start toying with the waist of Derek's jeans
until he decides, fuck it, and slides his hands around to start working open
Derek's fly. He pushes his jeans and boxers down his hips and Derek kicks them
off the rest of the way himself before reaching down and yanking Stiles' boxers
off, too.
“Do you have...?” Stiles starts but pauses when his breath hitches as Derek
starts moving his hips. He may not have ever done this before but he does know
that it requires certain supplies so he tries again. “Do you have any...?”
He trails off again, not able to focus on anything but the slide of Derek's
skin against his.
“Um,” Derek says, propping himself and looking around. “No, actually.”
Stiles nods awkwardly, suddenly feeling nervous. “Okay,” he says. “That's okay.
I mean, we don't just have to do the whole sex thing outright. We can work our
way up to that over time. There's plenty of other things we can do in the mean
time like --”
Derek cuts him off when he suddenly slides down his body and, without warning,
wraps his lips around Stiles' straining cock.
“Holy god,” Stiles says, throwing his back against the pillow. “Yeah. Yeah,
that.”
Derek chuckles and the sensation sends sparks up Stiles' spine. Stiles reaches
down and grabs Derek's shoulder with one hand, his finger nails leaving pale
crescent moons in his skin. His other other arm comes up to drape over his
eyes.
“Jesus Christ,” Stiles pants as Derek bobs his head up and down. Derek has to
have done this before. He's way to good to be a rookie.
Derek puts his hands on Stiles' hips to hold him to the bed as he swallows him
down to the back of his throat. He hollows his cheeks and slowly pulls off –
Stiles whimpering and squirming the whole time – almost all the way. He swirls
his tongue around the head of Stiles' cock before repeating the process, again
and again, getting fast each time until Stiles can't take it anymore.
“Derek,” he moans. “I'm gonna --”
He gets cut off when Derek hums lows in the back of his throat and Stiles'
vision whites out as he comes. Derek swallows it all down and by the time
Stiles has come down again, Derek's moved up the bed to lie next to, propped up
at an elbow and smirking down at him like the smug bastard that he is.
“Holy fuck,” Stiles breathes. Derek's smile grows and he leans down to kiss
him. Stiles can taste his own spunk on Derek's tongue and for some reason
that's no where near as gross as he thinks it should be.
Stiles rolls them so they're lying side-by-side facing each other and reaches a
hand down between them to wrap around Derek's cock.
“You don't have to,” Derek says against his lips.
“Shut up, you martyr,” Stiles replies.
Derek chuckles and wraps an arm around Stiles waist as he starts stroking him.
Stiles will admit he doesn't really know what he's doing. But he's got a dick
and he's done this to himself plenty of times. How different can it be?
And Derek isn't complaining, if the his panting breaths against Stiles' mouth
are anything to go by. Stiles twists his wrist and Derek's grip on his waist
tightens. He speeds up his movements and Derek's kisses get sloppier until they
stop completely, like Derek can't focus on kissing while Stiles is jerking him
off.
Stiles smiles at the breathy little noises he's managing to elicit from Derek.
“Come on, Der,” he encourages and now he really has no idea what he's doing.
Dirty talk? Der? Where the hell did that come from? But when Derek just moans
in the back of his throat, he figures he must be doing something right.
“God, Stiles,” Derek breathes and starts thrusting his hips into Stiles' fist.
“That's it,” Stiles whispers. “Come on, Derek.”
“Fuck,” Derek chokes out. “Jesus, Stiles. You're gonna make me come.”
“That's kinda the point,” Stiles replies, and twists his wrist again. “Come on,
Derek, just let go.”
Derek whimperes against Stiles' lips and Stiles knows he's close, so close, and
the words just come tumbling out of his mouth, “Come for me, Derek.”
And Derek does. Just like that. With a groan he coats Stiles' hand and his own
chest before relaxing back into the bed and panting.
When he finally opens his eyes again, Stiles is smiling at him.
“And you were gonna hold out on me,” Stiles says.
Derek rolls his eyes and drags Stiles in for another kiss.
XxXx
A few hours later Stiles wakes up to an empty bed. It's still dark but he can
hear the TV on downstairs and the whole apartment is bathed in flickering light
from the screen. When he sits up and looks over the edge of the loft he sees
Derek sitting on the couch.
He gets up and pulls his underwear and t-shirt back on before heading down. He
yawns as he drops into the seat next to Derek. They sit quietly for a minute,
watching the highlight reel from some basketball game Stiles doesn't care
about.
“What're you doing up?” Stiles finally asks.
Derek shrugs. “Couldn't sleep.”
“Everything okay?” Stiles asks and is struck with a sudden, terrible thought.
“You're not having regrets, are you?”
“What?” Derek looks over at him. “No. Of course not.”
As if to enforce his point he moves his hand to Stiles' knee. Stiles smiles at
it for a second before turning back to Derek. “Then what's up?”
Derek sighs and seems to think really hard about what he's about to say. “You
and Scott,” he starts. “Did you mean what you said back there? About the pack?”
“Well, yeah,” Stiles replies easily. “I mean, we'd have to, right? You can't
lie to werewolves.”
Derek considers that for a moment before he smiles and squeezes Stiles' knee.
“Okay.”
Stiles watches him carefully. He hadn't realized at the time how much what he
and Scott had said to the alphas might mean to Derek. He'd had a really big
family once, Stiles knows; a really big pack. He'd never considered before how
much of Derek' insistence on Scott joining his pack was just an attempt to get
some semblance of that back.
“Speaking of not being able to lie to werewolves, though,” Stiles starts again.
“You might want to keep an eye on Erica for awhile.”
“How come?” Derek asks.
Stiles sighs. “She had them convinced that she was going to kill you, Derek.
I'm not saying she wanted to or that she would have enjoyed it or that she even
would've been able to go through with it if she'd been given the chance. I'm
just saying that at one point, she fully intended to do it.”
Derek looks away and nods his head. “I need to talk to her and Boyd about a lot
of things.”
“Are you gonna let them back in?” Stiles asks.
“If it's what they want,” Derek answers.
“I think it is,” Stiles says.
Derek huffs a breath. “This whole situation is so weird.”
Stiles laughs. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you can totally be my
alpha.”
Derek smiles and wraps an arm around Stiles' shoulders, pulling him in close.
“An alpha, three betas, two not-quite-omegas, and a human --” he starts.
“And Lydia,” Stiles cuts him off. “Because with Jackson, comes Lydia.”
“And Lydia --” Derek adds.
“And probably Allison,” Stiles cuts in again. “Because let's face it: her and
Scott are going to get back together eventually.”
Derek sighs and watches him expectantly for a second. “You done?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Stiles says after a moment of thought.
“Alright. So, an alpha, three betas, two not-quite-omegas, and three humans,”
he rhymes off and then sighs. “Yeah. I think we can make this work.”
End Notes
     So, I started writing this back in October on a whim. I got down
     about 6000 words and then didn't think about it again for months. I
     just opened it up again the other day and decided it needed
     finishing. So, here it is.
     Also, I never intended it to be this long. Holy shit. How did this
     end up breaking 10K?!
     Feel free to hit me up on tumblr!
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