Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/985258.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Sheriff_Stilinski, Scott_McCall, Isaac
      Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, First_Kiss, Hand_Jobs, Train_of_Thought, Derek_Has_Feelings,
      Werewolves, what_I_wish_would_happen_in_3b, Feelings, Romance, Scenting
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-29 Words: 2481
****** We Are Lost In The Shadows ******
by HolyWater
Summary
     “I heal.” Derek growls, cutting him off and bending his head slightly
     to run his nose against Stiles neck, trying to smell any pain, any
     hurt, any blood that could be Stiles’. Derek breathes him in, feels
     Stiles suck in a breath of shock, fingers tightening on his arms.
     “I’m fine,” He whispers reassuringly, bringing one of his hands up to
     thread through Derek’s hair. “I’m fine.”
“Stiles!”
Stiles whips around to see Derek running towards him, face wolfed out, eyes
shining bright blue in the darkness of the school hallway, blood soaking his
tan, claw-torn t-shirt.
“Stiles,” Derek says again, now in his personal space, hands coming up to cup
his face, thumbs sweeping over his skin. “Are you hurt?”
“Am I hurt?” Stiles exclaims, hands coming up to clutch at Derek’s arms. “Your
guts are practically hanging out of your stomach and you’re asking if I’m hurt?
For God sakes just think about yourself for once and-”
“I heal.” Derek growls, cutting him off and bending his head slightly to run
his nose against Stiles neck, trying to smell any pain, any hurt, any blood
that could be Stiles’. Derek breathes him in, feels Stiles suck in a breath of
shock, fingers tightening on his arms.
“I’m fine,” He whispers reassuringly, bringing one of his hands up to thread
through Derek’s hair. “I’m fine.”
Derek nods, pulls back slightly to search Stiles face, fingers moving across
his smooth skin, smelling only ease and sudden warmth and Stiles, Stiles,
Stiles and… Derek backs away, before he does something stupid, like kiss him or
lick a warm path up his neck with his tongue and taste Stiles skin that he has
been dreaming about a lot lately, hands suddenly cold from the lack of warm
skin beneath them. Ever since he came back to Beacon Hills, leaving Cora in New
York, and he had felt something different about Stiles heartbeat. Maybe not his
heartbeat, exactly, but something around his heart, a darkness, an ache that
radiated off of him so strongly at certain times. Like once when Stiles and
Scott had had a fight and Stiles had come over to Derek’s new apartment, (“An
actual, like, house this time? With real live furniture? Wow, you have
definitely improved since the first time we met. Please tell me you have
cable?”) his heart a wreath of anger; dark, black, cursed anger, only to be
calmed once he had drank a cold water, spat out why he hated Scott so much
sometimes, and had sat down on the couch next to Derek, leaning on him
slightly, “You’re a great listener, you know that?” and had fallen asleep.
Derek wanted to say he wish he weren't such a great listener, and that
sometimes he actually wanted to say things, but he just… he could never find
the words Stiles always seemed to have. He wanted to ask why Stiles had gotten
angry over such a stupid argument, just a few words, because that was Derek’s
job, not Stiles’. Stiles was the one who was supposed to help him calm down,
ease his anger with bad jokes and smirks.
Why is your heart hardened?
He’s still the same Stiles. He is. And Derek supposes he sees him a little
differently now because they’re actually good friends. After the pool incident
with Jackson, Derek had seen them as frenemies. Stiles had looked at him,
(Abomination?) and Derek had felt this sudden shift under his skin. Something
he had never experienced. He had only responded with a nod, his eyes searching
Stiles, large ones. After he had killed Boyd and Stiles was the one to stay
with him afterwards, washing the blood of his hands, whispering that it wasn’t
him, it wasn’t, Derek had seen him as a friend. A very sarcastic, loud-mouthed,
annoying friend, nevertheless. Once he had come back from New York, Stiles
started hanging out with him more often than not. He came over after school
almost every day because, dude, with dad in the loop now, he is way too over
protective, and actually started talking to Derek. Actual full length
conversations with only minimal sarcasm. Derek had then seen him as a close
friend. A really good friend.
His revelation came to him one day when he had come back to the apartment from
a run in the woods, and opened the refrigerator to see that it was more than
half full with all of the things Derek knew Stiles liked because they had gone
midnight shopping together, once, after a near death experience, again, with a
live, flying gargoyle. Stiles had insisted afterwards that yes, he had needed
food ten minutes ago, and had dragged Derek with him to a supermarket on the
edge of town that was still open at midnight to help him pick out what he
needed. Stiles had ended up staying with Derek at the apartment, saying it was
too late to drive home anyway, and he was tired, God damn it. He ended up
leaving all of the food at Derek’s the next day saying that he was here more
often than at his own house. And it was true. He was. Derek smelled Stiles in
his apartment even when he wasn’t there. A few weeks later, when Derek went
shopping, he had, unconsciously, he now realized, bought food that Stiles had
gotten before or had whined about Derek not having.
Months later, now, Derek can pick out Stiles heartbeat in a crowd. He can feel
him before he even makes it into the apartment building.
“Derek?”
Derek snaps out of it, focuses on Stiles in front of him now, and opens his
mouth to say something, anything of what he had been thinking, before a he
hears a crash and a loud roar from down the hall and up the stairs. Stiles must
hear it too because he glances in the direction it came from before looking
back at Derek.
“Go. I’m fine. Scott and Isaac need help.” Stiles says, giving him a tiny
shove. “Go.”
Derek cups his face again. “If anything happens just yell out and I’m there.
You understand?”
Stiles nods and leans into his palm, cupping it from behind. “I know you can
feel my heart.”
Derek nods, once, and then runs, leaving Stiles behind, but still hearing the
steady beat of his heart.
He helps Scott and Isaac take down the rest of the rogue reindeer that had
gotten loose inside of the school, and Stiles comes back a little later, his
father in toe, telling them to leave before the rest of the squad got there and
that he would explain everything. The sheriff eyes Derek when Stiles goes up to
him first, asking if he’s okay, before talking to Scott. He tries not to think
about it too much, just focuses on Stiles and his heart. He presses his hand on
the small of his back when they head outside, a small comfort to the wolf
inside of him, wanting to press Stiles fully against him and breathe him in. To
feel every single part of him that he can. To run his hand under his shirt, and
leave a trail of warmth on his skin with his fingertips. To kiss along his neck
and drag his teeth across his skin.
Derek takes a deep breath as Stiles moves away from him to get in the other
side of Derek’s car. He focuses on breathing before getting in the driver’s
seat and peeling out of the parking lot. He hears sirens once he’s about a
block away.
“Hey, you mind if I crash at your place tonight?” Stiles asks. “I already asked
my dad.”
Derek glances over at him. “Is that why he was glaring at me?”
Stiles shifts and snorts. “Shit, he was staring at you? Oh my… Of course he
was. He probably thinks you’re gonna murder me in my sleep or something.”
Derek smirks. “I haven’t thought about that in awhile though.”
Stiles smacks his arm. “Shut up.” He pauses. “How’s your gut healing?”
Derek shrugs. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m fine. I just need a shower.”
A few minutes later, he pulls up in the parking lot and Stiles slides out of
the car. “I hope you have some of those strawberry drinks left.”
He does end up having some of those strawberry drinks left, and Stiles hums
happily, grabs one out of the fridge, and plops down on the couch before
turning on the TV. “Oooh, The Mummy’s on. Oh, and I claim the shower after
you.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “There’s no one else here.”
Stiles shrugs. “Just saying…”
Derek heads to the bathroom, removes his clothing, throws away his shirt, and
ducks into the shower, sighing when the hot water hits his skin. He takes a
little longer than usual, making sure to scrub away all of the blood. When he
finally gets out, he throws on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, before heading
back to the couch to get Stiles. He finds him asleep, stretched out, feet
dangling over the end of the couch, snoring slightly. He hesitates, wondering
if he should wake him before shaking him slightly.
“Stiles. Hey, Stiles.”
He starts, sitting up too fast, before groaning and rubbing his eyes. “You
done?” He asks groggily.
Derek nods and Stiles rolls off the couch, grumbling about never getting any
sleep and why can’t the supernatural just give him a fucking vacation already?
Jeeze, he’s not a bad kid.
Derek takes a seat at the end of the couch, and relaxes once he hears the water
in the shower turn on. The seat’s still warm and he remembers, vaguely, the
first time he found Stiles sleeping on it, blanket tucked around him, arm
pillowing his head, a slight smile on his lips. He remembers the steady thump
of his heartbeat and how light it had felt for once. Derek breathes in, taking
in Stiles sent around the room, making him think of home and pack and mine.
When Stiles walks out of Derek’s room, he’s in his boxers and one of Derek’s
shirts. He runs his fingers through his still wet hair. “Hope you don’t mind. I
didn’t have anything else…”
Derek shakes his head. No, of course he doesn’t mind, because now Stiles’ scent
is mixing with a piece of his clothing and doesn’t think he will ever get over
how casual he looks, how familiar he feels standing there in front of Derek
asking if he can wear his clothing.
Stiles takes a seat next to him, and sighs, snuggling against him. “You’re
warm.” He states, fingers clutching Derek’s shirt. And Derek can’t help but
wrap his arm around Stiles, and pull him tighter against his chest because it
feels so good. He buries his nose in Stiles hair, and breathes in, loving that
he smells like him now.
Stiles hugs him back and says, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” And Derek, he’s not
use to feeling so good so much. He’s not use to feeling so good, so warm, so
safe… He loves it. He loves it so much, and Stiles looks up at him, a soft
smile on his lips, fingers clutching his shirt, and Derek… he kisses him. He
bends down and captures his mouth with his own because he can’t think of a
better solution for what to do.
He feels Stiles suck in a breath of surprise, and Derek lets go, waiting for
him to back away, to hit him, to laugh at him, anything. But Stiles just stares
at him, mouth slightly open, before he leans back in, hand coming up to cup the
side of Derek’s face, and kisses back. And this time Derek’s the one surprised
before they’re both going at it with all they have. Stiles kisses him like he’s
oxygen, and Derek gives right back, clutching him tighter against his body,
groaning into Stiles mouth. And Stiles moans into his, hands griping his
shoulders to straddle Derek fully.
“Oh my god,” Stiles says, when they finally break the kiss, Derek trailing his
mouth down Stiles throat. He bites down on his skin, and Stiles squirms against
him. “Oh my god, yes. Please. Don’t stop.”
Derek growls deep, deep in his throat making Stiles moan again, and sucks the
skin on his neck into his mouth, between his teeth, going down to his
collarbone. Stiles buck against him, cock grinding against his own through the
thin lay of clothing between them.
“Derek,” Stiles sighs, and they’re kissing again, tongues battling against one
another. Derek’s hands slide under the shirt Stiles is wearing, fingernails
scraping lightly against the skin of his back. Stiles grinds down on top of
him, and Derek meets him with every thrust of his hips. He bites down on Stiles
bottom lip, and Stiles' breath hitches, the fingers that had been on Derek’s
neck come down to the waistband of Derek’s sweatpants, pulling at them. “Get
these off.” He mutters.
Derek lifts his hips off of the couch, and Stiles finally gets them down enough
that his cock bounces up, thick and hard, and Stiles groans, kissing him again.
“You have no idea how long I have wanted you.”
Derek pulls Stiles boxers down his hips. “The first time I realized I wanted to
kiss you was when that fucking hunter hit you in the arm.”
Stiles laughs. “You almost killed him. He just grazed my arm and you almost
tore his head off his body.”
“He hurt you.” Derek growls over Stiles chuckles, reaching down and running his
thumb over the head of Stiles cock. Stiles moans and kisses him. “This is gonna
be over way before I want it to be.” He whispers.
Derek spreads precome around Stiles cock and slides his hand around him,
stroking him. He latches his mouth onto his neck. “We have all night.”
Stiles moves against him, breathing hard. “Come on.” He begs.
Derek bites down onto his neck before moving and spitting into his hand for
more friction. He grabs both of their cocks and starts jacking them off, warmth
coursing through his whole body. “Stiles,” He moans.
Stiles thrusts against him and Derek meets him, their body’s movements in sync
with one another.
“Almost there.” Stiles bites out. Derek nods, feeling the build up to his
orgasm.
“Don’t hold back.” Derek breathes against the side of Stiles neck, listening to
the sound of flesh against flesh. “God, Stiles, you don’t know what you do to
me.”
Stiles groans and tenses, and then he’s coming, yelling out Derek’s name, and
Derek comes shortly after him, spurting all over his stomach.
“Stiles,”
Stiles leans against him and nods, kissing Derek’s neck. “I know.”
After a minute of breathing against one another, Derek brings Stiles mouth
against his again, his breath warm. Stiles smiles against his lips and Derek
pulls back to breathe against his neck smelling soap, and strawberry’s, and
shampoo, and sex, and Stiles, Stiles, Stiles.
“I want you forever.” Derek says beard scratching against his smooth skin.
Stiles runs his fingers through Derek’s hair. “I think that can be worked out.”
 
 
 
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