Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/624809.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Sheriff_Stilinski, Scott_McCall, Isaac
      Lahey, Erica_Reyes
  Additional Tags:
      blind!Stiles, Alternate_Universe, Mates, Knotting, Barebacking, Rimming,
      Possessive_Behavior
  Series:
      Part 6 of What_Big_Eyes_You_Have
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-05 Words: 5664
****** Resolutions ******
by A_Lesbian_With_Pink_Hair
Summary
     At the end of a wild year, Stiles makes a New Year's resolution to
     tell his dad the truth, and Derek deals with some unresolved issues
     that arise after tracking down a crazy omega in the woods.
Notes
     Happy New Year everyone! Sorry it took so long to write more, the end
     of the semester at school is killer. Anyway, here is the promised
     installment, in which they tell the Sheriff and also I wrote you some
     knotting fic.
     In terms of the timeline, this takes place before Hazel-Green.
     Side note: Contemplating making Allison/Scott/Isaac into a
     polyamorous trio of awesomeness. Not sure if I'm gonna do it or not
     yet. Might just hold out until season 3 and see if Isaac gets a love
     interest of his own.
     I hope you all enjoy it!
It starts off with a rogue omega and a New Year’s resolution.
It’s December 27th and Stiles is sitting in Scott’s room with Scott and Isaac,
and the three of them are coming up with their resolutions. It’s one of Scott
and Stiles’ many traditions, and they’ve elected to let Isaac join them on it
this year.
Scott goes first. “So this year I resolve to be more considerate of people’s
feelings, do better in school, and continue improving my relationship with the
pack.”
Isaac sort of scoffs a little. “Well, we can hope,” he says. “Mine are to
better control my powers and to make first line.”
“What, you don’t want to aim for co-captain?” Stiles teases.
“That sounds like too much effort. No thanks. Scott and Jackson can deal with
that.”
Scott and Stiles laugh a little.
“Okay,” the blind boy says, “so you’re gonna bitch at me, but I’m not sure what
mine should be.”
“What about… I dunno, be a better mate/boyfriend/whatever,” Scott suggests.
“Screw you, I’m an awesome mate. Derek is ridiculously lucky to have me.”
Isaac rolls his eyes but smiles; he and Scott both know that Stiles makes Derek
better. In the half year since they got together, Derek has been a lot less
violent towards his own pack. Everyone’s very grateful.
They talk it out for a few more minutes, but beyond his “behavior problems” in
school, no one can really think of anything good, so they start up a game of
Halo instead.
--
Two days later finds them tracking a powerful omega through the woods. She is
manic, feral, has clearly been on her own for too long, eyes burning gold, dark
hair tangled and flying around her as she runs. She has killed a police officer
and she has proven herself extremely difficult to catch.
Stiles is with Boyd and Jackson; they’ve been corralling her through the woods
to the cliff face; Allison is perched in a tree nearby, ready to take her out
if she doesn’t agree to leave. Derek and the rest of the pack are cornering her
in.
Several hours of running later, she stands surrounded by Derek’s pack, growling
and twitching, completely wolfed out but smart enough to know not to try to
run.
Derek’s teeth and claws are sharp and his eyes are red, and he growls, “This is
my territory.”
“Didn’t realize there was a pack here,” she says. She sounds like she’s not
quite all there. “Should have smelled it. But what’s this? I’ve never known a
pack to run with their humans. There’s one in the tree!” She laughs, deranged.
“Like a little bird! How wonderful!”
“The hell is wrong with her?” Jackson mumbles under his breath.
“Uh, she’s been on her own and she’s also gone crazy, is my guess,” Stiles
mutters back.
“That one.” The omega cocks her head and grins toothily. “He can’t see me.” She
almost sings it. “But I can see hiiii~iim…”
Derek snarls and takes a menacing step towards her. “You think you’re in a
position to taunt the Alpha’s mate?”
She claps her hands and giggles. “The Alpha’s mate? Oh dear. He doesn’t smell
like the Alpha’s mate. Not claimed right. He smells like the Alpha’s whore.”
Suddenly Derek shifts into his full Alpha form and lunges, pins her to the
forest floor. She screams in pain as his massive claws dig into her arms and he
growls down at her, a beast with glowing red eyes.
She’s babbling now, and Boyd instinctively takes a step to stand in front of
Stiles.
“Sorry, sorry, I’ll go, won’t come back won’t hurt anyone else sorry please,
sorry, sorry…”
“Derek,” Scott calls, bringing the Alpha back to his senses. Derek slowly
shifts back to his Beta form and moves off of the injured woman.
“Go,” he says, voice sounding more wolf than man. “And if you ever hurt so much
as a hair on the head of anyone in my territory again, I will tear your throat
out.”
Wide-eyed and terrified, the Omega accepts and runs off into the forest.
They never see her again.
--
When Stiles gets home, his dad is sitting on the couch with what seems to be
his third or fourth beer of the night.
“It’s been a bad year for the department,” he says, not looking at Stiles as
the boy sits down next to his father quietly. “Had to call Bower’s wife and
tell her. I wish I knew why. So many of my officers… maybe we’re cursed or
something.”
Stiles rests his head on his dad’s shoulder and suddenly he knows what his New
Year’s resolution is.
--
Derek paces back and forth in his tiny apartment.
He smells like the Alpha’s whore.
He growls, breathes deeply, tries to calm himself down. Of course he knows what
the woman meant; he’s not stupid. Stiles has Derek’s scent more or less
imbedded in his skin by now. But other werewolves outside the pack wouldn’t
recognize that as mate scent. Just claiming. And he knows that despite the fact
that they’ve been sexually active for several months, he hasn’t knotted Stiles
yet.
In truth, Derek is afraid. That’s not something that humans have, and it’s one
of many haunting reminders that he is not human.
Derek doesn’t mind that. He genuinely likes being a werewolf. Sure, he’s never
known anything else, but he’s never struggled with real illness or physical
ailments. He’s strong and fast and powerful. He likes that.
But he might never stop fearing that Stiles needs something more than that.
Something Derek can’t give him.
Stiles didn’t exactly grow up dreaming of being bonded to a werewolf. Normal
people don’t. And now, of course, Stiles likes the attentiveness likes how much
Derek needs him, but is he going to like it a year from now? When he goes to
college and Derek has no choice but to be nearby as often as possible? When he
makes new friends that aren’t pack and Derek becomes irrationally jealous?
Or if he loses interest and meets someone new?
When they got together, Derek told Stiles that he didn’t owe him anything, that
he would never make the boy stay with him if he wanted to move on. And Derek
will never do that to his mate. But for Derek, Stiles is it. There will never
be anyone else.
And Derek is terrified that the same might not be true for Stiles.
He sits down on the bed, head hanging low, trying to suppress his terror.
He wants Stiles to love him, more than anything. Wants to know that Stiles
loves all of him, even the nonhuman parts. The craze brought on by the full
moon, the knotting, the scent-marking, the shifting. Those aren’t human things
and he’s afraid that while Stiles doesn’t mind those things now, he might
later.
Derek covers his face with his hands and breathes deeply.
His phone chimes; it’s a text from Stiles.
Can you come over? I need to talk to you about something. Nothing bad. Just
important.
And since Derek is too far gone to refuse Stiles much of anything, he grabs his
jacket and runs out the door.
--
Stiles hears Derek’s secret knock that he made up on his window before it
slides open and Derek shuffles into his room.
“What’s up?” Derek asks.
“I figured out my New Year’s resolution,” Stiles says. “I want to tell my dad
about it. All of it. About Scott and the Argents and the monsters-of-the-week
and the whole Kanima thing. I want to stop coming home to find him drinking
after losing his officers without understanding why.”
Derek sighs and sits down next to Stiles on the bed; he takes one of Stiles’
hands in his, strokes over his palm and tangles their fingers together.
“And I want to tell him about you. You and me.”
Derek’s breath catches in his throat. “…are you sure?”
“Am I sure that I want my dad to meet the guy I’m gonna be with forever? Yeah,
pretty sure dude.”
He says it like it’s so easy, like he knows, and Derek almost wants to laugh.
Of course Stiles thinks that.
“You don’t know that,” he says, tucking his head into the crook of Stiles’
neck. Stiles kisses the top of Derek’s head.
“Yes I do,” he replies simply. “You’re my mate.”
Derek doesn’t have the words to answer that but he clutches Stiles tightly to
him and they don’t say anything for a while.
--
The next day, Stiles sits down with his dad at the kitchen table. He fidgets
uncomfortably, pulls at the strings of his hoodie. John takes a sip from his
coffee mug and eyes his son carefully.
“Stiles, is this going to take long? Because you know this is my only day off
this week…”
“Um. Actually. It will probably take a while. There’s a lot to tell you and I’m
pretty sure you wouldn’t believe me without proof, so um. I invited Derek Hale
over. Derek, uh, do you wanna sit down in here with us?”
The Sheriff furrows his eyebrows and looks over as Derek walks into the room
looking much more nervous than he ever did at the police station; he looks like
he wants to leap through the window and run off into the woods and never see
the light of day again if only he could get out of this conversation.
“So I want to preface this with an apology,” Stiles says, sounding sheepish.
“It’s been… a year and like three months since all this started and I’m just
telling you now and there’s so many reasons that I didn’t want to tell you but…
this is my New Year’s resolution, and I want you to know.”
John sits up straight now. He’s worried. What could Stiles possibly be so
worried about?
And Stiles tells him. He tells him about how he overheard the call about the
body, about how he convinced Scott to go check it out, how Scott got bitten by
an Alpha werewolf. He tells him why Kate burnt down the Hale house, what really
happened to Laura, and about Peter. Stiles explains how Derek became the Alpha.
He tells him about how Jackson became the Kanima and how Matt Daehler was
controlling him and then about how Allison’s grandfather was. He explains that
Peter kinda turned Lydia into what can really be described as a horcrux back
when he bit her and he used her to bring him back to life. He tells his dad
about Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. And when he’s finished, he waits.
It’s silent for nearly five full minutes before the Sheriff finally says,
“Evidence?”
Stiles tilts his head towards Derek, and Derek shifts into his Beta form. His
teeth grow long and sharp, as do his claws. His face contorts and his hair
grows and his eyes shine a brilliant, terrifying red. The Sheriff stares,
unable to speak, to respond, and Derek shifts back to normal quickly.
It’s silent again, until John tells his son, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Stiles asks.
“I believe you. It’s… bizarre and crazy and I’m gonna need approximately the
rest of my life to really process it,” John says, “but I believe you. I mean. I
can’t exactly argue with it when I just saw Derek Hale turn into a werewolf.”
He looks at his son, who looks extremely relieved, and then to Derek, who still
looks like he wants to crawl away from the table.
“So you got Scott… bitten by an alpha werewolf and now you… run around in the
woods with a pack of werewolves and you fight monsters.”
“Uh, yeah. Yep.”
John sucks in a sharp breath. Stiles is his little boy, his precious child, and
all he has left after the death of his wife. All these months of strange
behavior, getting into trouble, showing up at fucking murder scenes, and worst
of all, the lying, and all because of Derek Hale and his werewolf family.
No, that’s not quite right, John thinks. It wasn’t Derek’s fault. If anyone was
to blame, it was that Kate Argent and her father. Derek’s had a rough life, the
Sheriff is realizing. But that doesn’t make it okay for his blind son to go
running off into the night to fight evil with him.
“And you expect me to allow you to continue doing this?” he demands. “Stiles,
you can’t even SEE, how do you expect—“
Then Derek speaks for the first time in over half an hour. “Stiles has saved
all of us more times than I can remember. I… We need him.”
“And what happens if something hurts him? Kills him?”
Derek’s eyes flash that preternatural red again; John instinctively wants to
flinch away.
“Nothing will happen to him. I’ll die before anything even touches him,” Derek
says. He sounds like a curious mixture of nervous, mortified, passionate, and
dangerous. John doesn’t know what to make of it. He glances from Derek to
Stiles who is facing straight ahead, looking determined and a little haughty.
And the Sheriff knows his son, knows that telling Stiles he can’t do something
will only ever make him pursue it with renewed fervor.
Ever since Stiles was a child, people had told him he couldn’t do something,
and he had always responded by pushing back and exceeding any possible
expectations. This would be no different.
“…okay. I won’t stop you. I can’t, honestly. Just promise me that you’ll keep
me in the loop from now on. Maybe I can help make it easier for you.”
Derek nods once and Stiles lets out a relieved sigh before straightening up
again.
“Um, Dad. There’s one more thing.”
At this point, the Sheriff is ready to accept just about anything. Derek’s hand
is curled into a fist on the table. Stiles calmly puts a hand over that,
squeezing gently.
“Derek and I are together. And, uh, not like casual dating together. We’re kind
of like weird werewolf soulmates or something. I’m his mate. His wolfy
instincts told him that he should be with me. And I want to be with him too.”
Well, maybe not ANYTHING.
“Stiles, Derek is a lot older than you. You’re underage.”
Stiles swallows hard and nods. “I know that. But Dad, he makes me happy. And,
look, he’s a freakin’ werewolf; do you really think he’ll let anything bad
happen to me ever? And I. I care about him.”
John sighs very deeply. He stands up, spills the remnants of his cold coffee
into the sink, and rinses the mug.
“I think,” he says, “that if I denied you permission, you would ignore me.”
“Basically,” Stiles answers at the same time as Derek says, “No sir.”
He huffs a little laugh. Derek Hale, the person of interest with a burnt down
home, who never smiles and is always terrifying, who is apparently a fucking
werewolf, is scared of his boyfriend’s father. That’s hilarious.
“I want to talk to Derek alone for a minute, kiddo. Go wait upstairs.”
Stiles wordlessly stands up, kisses Derek’s cheek, and walks out of the room.
Derek gets very pale, which the Sheriff delights in.
“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you outside the station or a
crime scene.”
Derek doesn’t respond but he looks mortified.
“And I think that you’ve had a very difficult life, son. You’ve lost a lot in a
very short span of time. Your family, your home, your sister, then the ordeal
with your uncle… It seems like a lot of suffering. And I don’t think you’re a
bad person. And I think that you could really use a break.”
Derek holds his breath.
“And I can’t deny you someone you clearly care about and depend on, especially
not when I’ve spent the past few years caring about and depending on the same
person. So, here’s the deal, son,” John tells Derek. “You and Stiles can see
each other. But if anything happens to him, anything at all that you could have
prevented, I will find you and I will kill you. And since you are a werewolf,
that might take a while, but I assure you I won’t stop until you are very dead.
Do you understand me?”
Derek gulps. “Yes, sir.”
The Sheriff laughs. “You can call me John.” He turns to the doorway where he
knows Stiles has been eavesdropping.
“Stiles. You heard me. Be safe. On both fronts. You know exactly what I mean by
that, kiddo.”
Stiles peeks around the doorway and at least has the grace to blush.
--
On December 29th, the Sheriff walks into his living room to see his son and
Derek cuddled together on the couch. Stiles is asleep, cheek pressed into
Derek’s chest, and Derek is gently stroking his hair, eyes closed.
This is the most relaxed and gentle Derek has ever looked, John thinks. It’s a
good look for him.
Suddenly Derek looks up and meets his eyes. Panic crosses his face, but John
just smiles at him and walks into the kitchen.
Yes, he thinks, Stiles is in excellent hands.
--
The next night, Stiles and Derek are kissing on Derek’s bed when Stiles pulls
back.
“Wait, wait, hold up. Something’s bothering you,” the blind boy says, one hand
on Derek’s cheek. “You look upset, dude.”
Derek huffs a laugh and turns his head, pressing his lips against the skin of
Stiles’ palm. He finds it kind of charming that Stiles says he "looks" a
certain way whenever he feels the corners of Derek's mouth turned down.
“Was it what that psycho omega woman said?”
Damn. Stiles was always so fucking perceptive. There was hardly any point in
trying to keep anything from him.
“She said you didn’t smell like my mate,” he says quietly as Stiles pets his
hair with his free hand.
“Who cares? She was freaking crazy,” Stiles answers. “But I was wondering. Was
she talking about… erm… the knotting thing? You haven’t, um, brought it up or
anything. But I got the feeling that it’s more important than you let on.”
Derek swallows the lump in his throat. He’s embarrassed, caught off guard by
his mate yet again. “When, um. When a male werewolf claims his mate, knotting
is sort of… it creates a very distinct scent because it’s a werewolf smell and
not a human smell, but it’s not just on the surface of your skin.”
“So basically werewolves seal the deal with kinky sex?” Stiles supplies.
“Because… oh! Because humans don’t knot, so a human that’s been knotted has
been claimed by a werewolf. Right?”
Derek nods against Stiles’ hands. “You still smell like mine. No enemy would
dare hurt you; you’re covered in my scent. But you’re only marked as belonging
to me, not as my mate.”
“Your werewolf rules are complicated.”
“Sorry.”
Stiles shakes his head and leans forward, kisses him quickly. “Why haven’t we
done that yet?”
Derek takes a deep breath. He may never get used to the vulnerability he shows
Stiles.
“For a few reasons. Because it’s a big deal. For me. It’s something you only do
with your mate. It’s… special. And I was… I was afraid that you’d be afraid.
Because that’s a werewolf thing. Normal humans—“
“I don’t want a normal human, I want you.”
Derek almost argues that Stiles had also wanted Lydia, but reconsiders when he
realizes the fact that Lydia is a force to be reckoned with and is far from
ordinary.
“…It was stupid. I was just worried you would get freaked out and leave.
Because of something that I can’t change.”
“Derek, if I was gonna get freaked out and leave, I think I might have done it
when my best friend got turned into a creature of the night. Or, like, when you
started stalking him. Or when your uncle tried to murder us. Or when a crazy
revenge lizard tried to murder us. Or when Allison’s crazy grandpa tried to
murder us. Wow,” Stiles says, “a lot of people want to murder us. I could have,
and would have been right to, at any of those times. ‘Cuz all that stuff?
That’s scary. That scares me. Monsters in the woods, gorgons, fairies, witches,
that’s scary. But you? I’m not afraid of you. You don’t scare me. Not you as a
person or as a werewolf. Okay? I want you, exactly the way you are. Even with
all the wolfy bits. Got it, buddy?”
Derek smiles just a little. “Got it.”
“But there’s more, right?” Stiles continues. “You still think I’m gonna leave
you someday. That I won’t want you anymore. Cuz if you do this with me, that’s
it for you. But I could still go. It’s all one-sided.”
The werewolf doesn’t say anything.
“Dude, I’m not gonna do that to you, not ever.”
“…I told you not to worry about me.”
Stiles throws his arms up exasperatedly and flops down backwards on the bed. He
groans, frustrated.
“Derek for Christ’s sake, I told my dad about us. I told him we’re werewolf
soulmates or whatever. I’m your mate; that means we’re part of a set. We’re
supposed to be together. I know that I don’t have to stay with you, but I
literally cannot see myself ever wanting to be with anyone else. It’s not out
of pity, or obligation. It’s because this is the only place I want to be. So if
you have some weird werewolf sex thing that you need to do to believe that, to
make me yours, then I want us to do that.”
He isn’t lying, not one word, and Derek is so overcome that he covers Stiles’
body with his own and kisses him deep and filthy. Stiles responds eagerly,
thrusting his hips up against Derek’s and kissing back, arms around Derek’s
broad shoulders.
The wolf is close to the surface, thrilled beyond all reckoning for this. Derek
yanks open Stiles’ button-up shirt, sending buttons flying off in every
direction and strips the boy of both his shirt and his undershirt. He licks a
stripe up Stiles’ throat, tongue against his fluttering pulse.
When Derek speaks, his voice is heavier, thicker than usual. “Don’t move. Just
let me, please, just…”
“Okay,” Stiles answers, unseeing and full of trust and affection. He settles
down, fingers gripping the fabric of the sheets, and Derek sucks a bruise into
Stiles’ neck.
He works his way down Stiles’ chest and stomach, leaving marks all the way down
the boy’s torso. Stiles squirms and makes delicious, needy little noises, but
he doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything to urge Derek along.
Derek mouths at one of Stiles’ nipples, and Stiles moans appreciatively,
fingers gripping the sheets tighter.
“Dereeeeek,” he whines. Derek ignores him and gently bites the other one, which
elicits a yelp from the body beneath him.
“Quiet,” Derek growls, and Stiles obeys. Derek rubs his stubbly cheek against
Stiles’ skin, marking his mate with his scent, and removes his shirt and pants,
as well as Stiles’ jeans.
“Thank god,” Stiles groans as Derek sends their clothing to the floor. Derek
surges up and kisses him, teeth just a little too sharp to be human, but not
sharp enough to hurt.
“I thought you were going to behave. Be a good boy for me.”
Stiles shivers. “Aren’t I always?”
“Yes,” he murmurs. “The best.”
Derek looks down at his mate and can’t help but smile. Stiles is the best thing
he’s ever had in his life, patches up all his insecurities and makes him a
better man. Not for the first time, Derek is glad that this is his mate. The
blind boy who sees everything there is to see and likes Derek anyway.
He divulges them both of their underwear and rummages in his bedside table for
the half-empty bottle of lube. They’re both too wound up for too much foreplay,
so Derek urges Stiles onto his hands and knees, back arched, face buried in the
pillow.
Derek parts Stiles’ cheeks and, without any hesitation, presses his tongue
against the tight pucker of skin there. Stiles gasps and bodily flinches,
surprised by the intimate touch, and Derek laps over his hole before probing it
with his tongue.
“Derek…” Stiles mumbles into the pillow.
“Shut up. Did you forget what I told you the first time we had sex? The knot is
a lot to take. I’m not giving it to you until I’m sure you’re ready for it,”
Derek tells him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“This seems unnecessary.”
“Be quiet or I will gag you.”
Stiles makes a frustrated noise as Derek continues to mouth at his entrance,
pushing past the rings of muscle with his tongue and fucking into his mate.
It’s absolutely filthy, and Stiles can’t stop writhing, and Derek doesn’t stop
even as he pops open the tube and slicks up his fingers.
Eventually he moves back, face wet with his own saliva, and works two fingers
into Stiles, who moans appreciatively. He fingers Stiles for a while, thrusting
fingers in and out, gently stretching and preparing him. He gets up to four
fingers when Stiles is shaking, overstimulated without even having come yet,
needing to be touched, taken care of.
“Good,” Derek mumbles, finally slicking himself up. “You’re so good, so
beautiful, all mine…” He feels like his blood is singing, aflame, crooning for
Stiles, wishing to crawl inside of him completely and stay there for as long as
Stiles would let him.
“Come on, c’mon, oh my god, Derek, please, I need you,” he moans, thrusting his
hips back at Derek. Derek’s eyes are glowing red, and he’s not going to shift
but he knows he looks feral and wild and at one point he’d have taken comfort
in the fact that Stiles can’t see it, now he preens under the knowledge that
Stiles wouldn’t be afraid of him no matter what he looked like.
“I know, baby, I know,” he says as he fucks into him. “You’re doing so good.”
Stiles whimpers as Derek pulls back and thrusts again, hard, harder than he’s
ever fucked Stiles before. He’s usually gentle; like he’s afraid if he holds
Stiles too tightly he’ll break. But tonight, he’s not, and Stiles is quickly
finding that he likes it this way, too. He likes that Derek’s gripping his hips
like he owns them, likes that Derek is growling and it doesn’t sound human,
likes hearing Derek mutter filthy, animal things like mine and mate and claim.
Derek drinks in the noises Stiles is making, sweet and vulnerable. Derek is the
alpha, it’s only right that his mate, a brilliant, fearless boy who obeys no
one, would make these sounds for him. Would let Derek hold him down and fuck
him into the mattress.
With one hand, Derek reaches around to Stiles’ front, fingers resting slightly
over Stiles’ throat—not choking, just as a reminder that if he wanted to, he
has more than enough strength in just one hand to crush him. Derek is very
careful as he trails his fingers gently down Stiles’ chest, rubbing at a nipple
with his thumb. Stiles is trembling, strung out, making such lovely sounds.
“A-ah, Derek, please, I want to come, Derek…” Stiles is clutching the sheets so
tightly and he’s being so good, feels so good around him, and Derek wants to
make him feel good too. He slides his hand down Stiles’ stomach and gently
grips Stiles’ cock, stroking firmly.
He keeps up his hard, insistent thrusts, and matches them with his strokes.
Derek drapes himself over his boy, mouths at the back of his neck, tongues a
path between freckles and moles between his shoulder blades, nips at his ear,
and whispers words that come unbidden.
“Gonna fill you up and knot you, keep me inside of you, make you mine, don’t
you want to be mine, Stiles?” Derek is fervent and lost to sensation.
Stiles croaks, “Yes, please, c’mon Derek, that’s what I want!"
“Bet you’ll look so pretty after, you always do, all pale skin and sweet eyes,
red mouth, and just for me, not for anyone else, you’re going to stay with me,
aren’t you? Stiles?”
Derek sounds desperate, like he still doubts this, still doubts Stiles. Stiles
knows it’s because of everything Derek has lost; Kate, his family, Laura, Erica
and Boyd’s brief “leave of absence” (Stiles likes to call it) and Scott’s lying
to him (for a good reason, but not the point). Derek doesn’t trust anyone; life
has kicked the crap out of Derek and yet he still has so much heart, so much
vulnerability inside of him, so much to love, and Stiles does, and he thinks
maybe Derek’s not ready to hear that yet, but Stiles loves Derek.
He loves Derek and he loves that Derek trusts him, is willing to give this part
of himself to anyone, let alone a blind human boy with ADHD. This is something
no one else will ever have. Derek belongs to Stiles as much as Stiles belongs
to Derek.
Stiles comes first, unable to hold back with Derek’s incessant stimulation, and
he lets Derek hold him up as Derek keeps thrusting.
He feels it when Derek comes, painting his insides, and he revels in that for a
moment; Derek’s never done that before, but Stiles likes it.
“Come on, do it, knot me, I’m ready, Derek, I want it, I want you,” Stiles
babbles, oversensitive and boneless from his orgasm.
Derek slides in deeper and deeper and he’s still coming when Stiles feels the
knot pushing insistently against his hole. The werewolf eases it in but Stiles
still whimpers a little—it’s big and Stiles is glad for the extra prep Derek
had insisted on. It’s big and heavy inside him and Derek’s still coming, and
Stiles is so full. Derek rolls them onto their sides and presses a huge warm
hand against the flesh of Stiles’ belly, rubbing gently, mouth against the skin
behind Stiles’ ear.
“Okay?” he asks. And it’s a simple, one-word question but Stiles knows how
scared Derek is right now.
“I feel so good, you make me feel so good,” Stiles says, putting a hand over
the one on his stomach. “You always do.”
“…didn’t always,” Derek mumbles. “Used to hurt you.”
“You know I’ve forgiven you for that.”
Derek lets out a pained sort of whimper and nuzzles another apology into
Stiles' hair. They’re locked together now, Stiles full of Derek’s come. It
becomes a sort of pleasant pressure as he drifts off in Derek’s arms.
Half an hour later, when the knot goes down, Derek pulls out gently and wakes
Stiles up.
“Stiles."
“Mmmrgh?"
“Do you want me to get a towel for you, or do you want to jump in the shower
with me?”
Stiles lifts himself up and winces a little.
“Um. Shower. But I think you might have to carry me,” Stiles says. It’s just as
well, since he doesn’t quite know his way around Derek’s recently-acquired
apartment yet. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and Derek lifts him,
encouraging him to put his legs around the werewolf’s waist. He carries Stiles
to the shower and cleans him quietly, massaging shampoo into his buzzed-short
hair and rinsing carefully, keeping the soap out of Stiles’ eyes.
Stiles stays quiet and enjoys the feel of Derek taking care of him. They both
like this part, after sex, the comfortable silence. They don’t need to say
anything now; they’ve said enough for the time being, and they’re content to
shower together, dry off, and fall asleep tangled together in Derek’s bed.
--
The Sheriff agrees to let Stiles have the whole pack over for New Year’s. Lydia
and Jackson decline; they have some fancy rich people plans or whatever, but
the three baby betas (as Stiles affectionately calls them) eagerly accept, as
does Scott and his mother. Even Peter comes, despite his flouting that he could
have gone to a much more exciting party. (Stiles tells him to shut up and go to
the damn party if he’s so inclined and, like a New Year’s Eve miracle, Peter
shuts up.) Allison also shows up. She and Scott are, of course, back together,
after a few months of soul-searching on her part.
They play a few games and they eat a lot of food and they laugh together, and
finally the clock strikes 11:59 PM.
They’re all draped in various places around the living room, wearing ridiculous
cheap party hats (even Derek, but he looks like he’s sulking about it) and they
have noisemakers. Derek, Melissa, Peter, and John are all drinking beer, and
the rest have plastic cups with various sugary sodas in them.
“They’re starting the countdown!” Erica exclaims, excited, one hand clasped in
Boyd’s happily, the other clutching her noisemaker.
The countdown starts at 59, and everyone joins in. Derek looks around at his
pack, and their families, and at Stiles, who is wearing some kind of plastic
tiara that Scott put on him, and he’s laughing so brightly.
The year has been long and difficult and full of danger, and the next year will
likely be the same. But as things are now, Derek thinks maybe that’s not so bad
after all, if he’s facing it with Stiles and their pack.
“5! 4! 3! 2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
Derek cups Stiles’ cheek and kisses him; Erica launches herself at Boyd and
manages to kiss him even as they topple to the carpet. Scott kisses Allison and
then Isaac because he doesn't want Isaac to feel left out, and Isaac blushes to
the roots of his hair, which makes Allison giggle.
“Happy New Year, Derek,” Stiles says, grinning at his mate.
Derek smiles a little and kisses Stiles again. Maybe it will be.
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