Derek was reading on Stiles’ bed, one evening, while he waited for the emissary to arrive. Normally, he’d have received his report by now, but ever since Finstock had put Stiles on the line, Stiles always seemed to think it was okay to leave Derek waiting whenever he gave Stiles an assignment.
He pulled out his phone and stared at it with a frown on his face.
4:34 pm. No call, no text, no Stiles. And Derek was just supposed to lie here and wait for the silly boy to get back.
Well, he was supposed to be sitting… on the chair… in the sitting room downstairs, but Stiles’ bed was so comfy and Derek loved the smell of Stiles and teenager and hormones. He loved lying here and pretending that Stiles was not the asshat who was obsessed with a sport that he wasn’t even good at.
Turning over on the bed, Derek snuggled in. If he was going to wait, he didn’t think he needed to be uncomfortable to do it.
_____
Derek startled awake when he felt a weight drop on his whole body. Immediately going alert, his eyes flew open only to realize that Stiles was lying on top of him.
“Put the claws away, Sourwolf.” Stiles said, pouting into Derek’s neck.
“You’re home.” He said, raising his hand to pat Stiles on the head.
“I was late.” He raised his head to looked down at Derek. “I can give you the report.”
“Sssshhhhh!” Derek said, pressing Stiles’ head back into his neck. “You’re tired.”
“It’s just a report.” His voice sounded muffled.
“You can give it when you wake up.” Derek said, patting him on the head as Stiles began to relax into oblivion. He could see Stiles had had a long day. He was not about to keep his favorite pack mate up just for a report. Soon, Stiles’ breath was coming in even above Derek as Derek held on. “I’ll be here anyway.” He pecked Stiles on the head as his own eyes drifted back into sleep.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
WORD COUNT: 1081
TAGS: future fic, established relationship, sexual time tables, character death
SUMMARY:
"I'm magic." Stiles stated simply.
"I know." Derek said. Because of all the conditions that Stiles had come up with when they first started dating, he was very adamant about Derek never disagreeing with him when he said he was awesome or the best boyfriend or some other obvious ridiculousness like that.
"No, Der. I'm actually magic."
[This is based on The Train Scene from the Bollywood movie, “Kuch Kuch Hota Hai”]
The bus honked as the driver announced a departure call.
Stiles sat in the bus, clutching his backpack and his phone in his hand. There was still time. He could still make the call. The bus wouldn’t leave for another fifteen minutes. If he called Derek now, then maybe-
Nope, Stiles said to himself. He wasn’t going to do that. If he called Derek he’d never leave. He had to do this. This was the only way.
“Excuse me.” Stiles heard Derek’s voice in the almost empty bus park. “Sorry.” Derek said, moving through the few people present. “STILES!” He called.
Stiles turned away from the window just as Derek reached his bus, but he could tell from the pause that Derek had seen him. As Derek rushed around to the door of the bus, Stiles scrubbed the tears off his face.
“Where are you off to?” Derek asked him, leaning over him as Stiles began to busy himself with the zipper of his backpack.
“Home.” He replied.
“What?”
“Melisa called. My dad’s not doing so well. His heart-” He began as Derek cut him off.
“Have you gone mad?” Derek asked, with a disbelieving smirk on his face. “One phone call and you’re leaving?”
“Derek-”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Derek declared, pulling Stiles bag from the overhead shelf as Stiles stood to his feet to grab the bag back.
“Derek, no seriously. I have to go.”
“It’s the middle of the semester. Your dad wouldn’t want you to leave.”
“This time is different.”
“You can leave after exams. Hey!” Derek said, like he just got a new idea. “You can leave after midterms.” He pulled the bag free of Stiles hand and moved to the door, by which time, they now had the attention of the small number of passengers on the bus.
“Derek, I have to go-”
“Stiles-”
“-and if I go this time I’m not coming back.” Derek stopped. “E… even for exams.” Stiles finished.
“Oh.” Derek said, the bag leaning on the door of the bus. “You’re leaving college… leaving me?” He smiled a dry, unhappy smile. “You didn’t even tell me about it. Hmm.” He lifted the bag and dropped it at Stiles’ feet. “Okay.” He said, all jokes gone from his demeanor.
“Derek-”
“Yeah, you do you.” He nodded and got off the bus.
“Derek, I’m leaving-”
“Then leave!” He advised, waving Stiles off and walking away in the way he always did when his feelings were hurt but he was trying to put up a front.
“You don’t have to be like this-”
“It’s FINE, OKAY?” He called back, still moving. Refusing to look back at Stiles.
Feeling upset, Stiles stooped to pick his bag when he felt a familiar set of eyes on himself and he looked up in time to see Tudor, Derek’s boyfriend, staring back at Stiles.
He would never admit it –at least not to Derek- but Tudor was the reason Stiles was leaving. He had thought he and Derek would be together forever. Stiles had such big dreams. He had survived grade school as Derek’s pet project. Then he’d managed high school as Derek’s side kick. Hoping and praying that college would bring a different, more romantic tone to their friendship had turned out to be nothing but a pipe dream the moment Derek got assigned to be Tudor’s roommate.
Stiles endured a whole year of it, but he was so done. He couldn’t do it anymore. If Derek didn’t want him, that was fine, but Stiles figured it was time to leave Derek’s shadow and find himself. If it had taken two decades and Tudor to make him see that, Stiles was willing to finally grow up.
Smiling weakly at Stiles, Tudor waved at him. Stiles waved back with a brief nod as he picked his bag back up and moved it back to the overhead shelf before taking his place by the window. From there, he could see Derek, still walking away in anger, hunched over. Stiles wished he could run to him… get off the bus and beg Derek and tell him that he wasn’t leaving anymore. But he couldn’t. Stiles had to do this.
When the bus honked for the final time, Stiles flinched for a second, but before he could look away, Derek stopped walking. Then he turned around and his eyes met with Stiles’. For a second, he looked remorseful and even though they were far off, Stiles could tell Derek had just said: “Shit”, seconds before he started back for the bus with quick steps, once again.
But the bus was already moving, making its way to the gate of the park. Stiles leaned towards the window, his eyes never leaving Derek’s as Derek ran for the bus. Luckily for them, they were still within the park and the bus mark a toll at the gate so it was crawling its way out.
“Stiles!” Derek called the moment he got to Stiles’ window. “Stiles, don’t go.” He pleaded.
“I have to.”
“Why?” Derek jogged along with the bus. “We both know your dad is fine.” Stiles opened his mouth but Derek continued. “If he wasn’t, Melisa would look after him.”
“My dad needs me.”
“And I don’t?” Derek asked.
Stiles heart wavered. For a second.
“No!” Stiles said in mock anger as tears ran down his face. “You go irritate Tudor. You’ve bothered me enough.”
“I’ll fail.”
“Then fail.” Stiles encouraged.
“Hey, now.”
Unsure what else to say as the bus got to the gate, Stiles just started rambling.
“Stay away from those silly biker gangs, Derek.”
“I don’t roll with biker gangs.”
“Be nice to Tudor.”
“I’m always nice.” Derek said.
“I’m serious.”
“Sti- Stiles, there’s somethi- okay.” Derek called as the bus went passed the gate and Derek had to stop. “I’LL MISS YOU, YEAH?” He called to Stiles.
Stiles couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t crying anymore.
“I’LL MISS YOU TOO.”
“Hey.” Derek sounded weak and frustrated as he walked along the see-through fence.
Stiles turned away and bent, burying his face in his backpack as he cried into it. This was going to be a painful journey and it didn’t help that Stiles had changed his number without telling Derek. He wasn’t going to receive any calls and he knew he couldn’t call either. This was supposed to be a clean break.
And Stiles was very ready to brave this storm.
__________
Derek watched the bus leave, feeling as if a part of him had just driven off without his consent. He could feel his sight getting blurry and it almost seemed as if he couldn’t breathe. Which was ridiculous. Because Derek was fine. He had Stiles’ number. They would still see each other back at Beacon Hills, right?
“You could have just saved yourself the headache and told him we broke up.” Tudor said, coming to stand beside him.
Derek was too busy clenching his fists and struggling to breathe to answer. But if he could, he’d tell Tudor he couldn’t have told Stiles that. Not now, anyway. In all the years Derek had known Stiles, the other boy had based his whole life around the things that Derek wanted. If Stiles was leaving and that was a decision he had come to all on his own, Derek knew that he would never be able to take that away from Stiles.
Not even if it meant telling Stiles that Derek had fallen in love with him, too.
Everything felt new. Everything was new. But he wasn’t going to worry about it or freak out, because it was all great. He had a script in his hand and a role to play and even though he’d only just met Crystal, she seemed nice. They’d spent two seconds being awkward with each other before she’d punched him in the arm and said:
“You’re not supposed to have muscle.”
Which had pretty much been an invitation to treat her like his dude.
So here they were, a couple hours into meeting for the first group reading, and he was already okay. He had a friend and the producers were great. He just had to meet the other actors and be cool with them.
“How many have you met?” He asked Crystal, looking at her skeptically as she laughed at him.
“I’ve met all of them. Well…” She said with a frown. “I haven’t met the guy who plays your dad but I hear he’s cool.”
He frowned too. He was going to be having scenes with his dad. It would have been nice to have some Intel before he met the guy.
“Stop freaking out.” She teased.
“I’m not freaking out.”
“Have you met the wolf?” She asked.
“You mean Scott?” He asked.
“No, the other one.” She wagged her eyebrows at him. “Totally your type.”
“Yeah, you don’t know me that well.” He said, shaking his head.
“My gaydar works just fine.” She took a generous sip from her bottled water. “He’s about your height and he’s properly buff. We met yesterday at the producer’s house and everyone was asking about you.” She said. “The new guy. We heard such good things.”
“I’m not that great.” He said, looking down at his script with a blush rising in his cheeks.
“Speak of the devil.” She said, bouncing to her feet. “Hey, TYLER! OVER HERE!” She called, shocking Dylan for a second.
Lifting his head, he watched the other actor stroll down to meet them as if in slow motion. Unable to do anything but stare, Dylan sat, taking in the stunning creature approaching him with the most gorgeous green eyes Dylan ever seen and a charming smile aimed in his direction.
“Uh…” He stuttered. “I’m Stiles.” He said stupidly. “No. Um, I’m Dylan. I’m Dylan O’Brien. I play Stiles.”
The smile broke into a gentle laugh as he offered his hand to Dylan.
“I’m Tyler.” The guy said taking Dylan’s slow-moving, stunned hand in his with a soft squeeze as Dylan tried to get to his feet, ignoring Crystal’s snickering behind Tyler’s back. “I’ll be playing Derek.”
“I know.” Dylan said, cringing on the inside as he felt like a silly fan boy.
Of course Dylan knew who Tyler Hoechlin was. He’d seen his movies. But honestly, no camera lens had ever done the older man justice.
“We’re about to start.” Jeff said, walking passed the actors as more cast members began to arrive.
When Stiles nodded, he tried not to think of the fact that Tyler was still holding his hand… and still smiling at him.
“We should hang out.” Tyler said. “When we’re not working, I mean.”
“Yes. Yes, I agree. We should. Of course.” Too much, he said to himself, but Tyler was laughing and looking at him a sif he was the cutest thing so Dylan figured he must have said something right. “Anytime.”
Finally letting go of his hand, Tyler offered him a mock salute and followed Jeff off, leaving Dylan with his script and his thoughts.
“You’re welcome.” Crystal said, pulling him to his feet.
“I’m going to hate working with you, aren’t I?”
She snorted, not bothering to answer. Maybe she didn’t have to. She knew she was right. Tyler Hoechlin? The guy who was about to take on the role of Derek Hale? Was definitely Dylan’s type.
I just deleted a whole smut scene from a fic that I’m working on and it just occurred to me that it didn’t need to go to waste. So I’m uploading it here as a stand alone sterek :D
Derek realized he had not eaten the whole day as he lay there, in bed with Stiles. He figured he would wait till the god slept off, then he would make his way to the kitchen to scrape up something to fill his human stomach.
But as it stood between them, Stiles did not seem very eager to fall asleep. If anything, he lay there in Derek’s arms, holding on tightly with one hand as he stroked up and down Derek’s arm, as if lost in thought. Derek did not know what more he could do to take away the hurt that he knew Stiles was feeling. He could not begin to fathom the inner workings of a deity, but if this one had deemed Derek worthy, he was going to make damn sure that he was worthy. If this was what Stiles wanted, Derek was more than willing to give it to him.
Without thinking, he leaned forward and placed a dry kiss on the back of Stiles’ neck and the body in his arms froze for a second.
“Sorry.” Derek said. “I don’t know why I did that.” He said as Stiles turned around, remaining within Derek’s grasp till they were facing each other.
“It’s okay.” Stiles said, resting his hand on Derek’s shoulders. “I don’t mind.”
Derek’s eyebrows rose so high, he was sure they would disappeared into his hairline. He may have been out of the dating pool for long and it was probably years since he so much as looked at a man funny, but Derek was pretty sure that the large, needy eyes currently looking up at him and the hands stroking along his shoulders and down his back, were signs that someone wanted a little more than cuddling.
“Are you sure?” He asked, not bothering with context. Who needed context anyway? Anyone in the room currently thinking of anything but sex at the moment needed to get their head checked.
This time, when he leaned forward, Stiles met him halfway, crushing their lips together in a soft, dragging kiss that had Derek sighing contently. He could not quite put his finger on what was making it feel so good… so right, except for the fact that he was kissing a god. That had to count for something, right? There had to be a reason why Stiles was sucking on his lips and licking into him with such fervor that Derek could not remember a time in his entire life that he had felt so alive.
“I want…” Stiles whispered between breaths and kisses. “I want to suck you.”
Derek laughed, unable to help himself at the crudeness of Stiles’ words.
“Can I?” He asked.
“Okay.” Derek said, nodding as Stiles pushed him over and climbed unto his body, unbuttoning Derek’s trousers and pushing it down as Derek lifted his hips to allow better access. “Don’t hurt yourself.” He said, when Stiles took him by the dick and rubbed, massaging him as he removed him from his pants.
Derek moaned, lifting his legs a little without even thinking about it. When he looked down at Stiles, he was whispering words to Derek’s dick, talking to it, cajoling it like he expected it to give permission.
“It’s okay.” Derek said.
Seconds later, he was banging his head back against the pillow when Stiles took him in his mouth, completely devoid of a gag reflex.
“Oh god!” Derek prayed. “Ayuadame! Help me!” He said.
Once Stiles began to suck, Derek’s eyes fell closed, sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of ecstasy as everything else around him seemed to drown away. He raised his hands, slipping it into Stiles’ hair and thanking the gods, he could hold on to something because he felt like if there was nothing to anchor him; he might never make it back… never find himself again.
He could feel the pressure building in his gut, the longer Stiles sucked and the deeper he seemed to want to go. Derek just wanted more, but he did not know to which extent he could ask. A god was sucking his dick, for god’s sake. What more could he ask for?
As soon as he felt a finger poke at his hole, Derek’s eyes flew open.
“What… what are you doing?” He asked.
But Stiles did not reply, choosing to release Derek’s dick with a loud pop as he sucked on Derek’s balls. His eyes fluttered again, fighting to stay sane from the pleasure he was being given, but someone was playing with his asshole. Derek had been with men in his lifetime, but it had been a while since he let anyone near his hole.
When he felt Stiles’ tongue swipe across it, Derek bolted off the bed, shifting a little as Stiles sat up, looking dazed and disgruntled. Almost as if going down on Derek had been a more pleasurable experience for him than it had been for Derek.
“You can’t.” Derek said, mentally struggling to put his foot down.
“Did I do something wrong?” Stiles asked, his lips glistening with spit and pre-cum. As he spoke, Derek could not get thought out of his head that sucking his dick had done that… had made Stiles’ lips slick and swollen.
“You want… you want to lick me… there?” He asked, unsure of what was going on.
“Do you not do that?” Stiles asked in confusion.
“Why?” Derek asked, equally confused. “You don’t know what’s down there. I may have done things without… cleaning properly.”
“Ah.” Stiles said, nodding as if he finally understood. He held his hand up as towel materialized in his palm, hanging with the weight of wetness. “Lie down.” Stiles said and Derek obeyed, wondering what was going on. “I understand that you may be uncomfortable letting someone see you down there if you are not… clean. I wouldn’t mind. It’s all a part of your body anyway.”
“Eww.” Derek said, droping his head in the pillows and feeling his dick grow more and more limp. They were referencing shit and poop and there was nothing less sexy than talking about shit and poop when sex was on the table.
“Spread your legs.” Stiles said as Derek looked at him suspiciously. “I want to wipe you.”
Derek looked at the towel.
“I’m not a kid.”
“I want to suck you and you won’t let me if you think you are unclean.”
Well! That was not Derek’s only concern but he spread his legs anyway.
He moved when Stiles lifted one leg and tried to turn him around till he was finally on his belly. And then he dragged Derek back, keeping him in a semi-kneeling position as a pillow was slid under him.
He felt so exposed, just lying there. He had only ever bottomed once in his life and that was his first and last time. He had been a sophomore High School and the Student Body President had followed him around, buying him gifts, showering him favors and making all sorts of promises. By the time they finally got some privacy, Derek had regretted everything when the much larger boy was pressing his dick into Derek and everything had hurt.
He did not cry though. At least, Derek does not remember ever crying that day. But after that, he never bottomed again. If he so much as looked at a man, he was sure no one would have any business with his asshole, for any reason.
Until now.
Stiles spread his cheeks and wiped at his asshole with the wet cloth, causing a shiver up and down Derek’s body.
“Relax.” Stiles told him from behind, leaning over him as he wiped again and again, massaging Derek’s cheeks with his free hand till Derek was a little more relaxed in his hands. Just as he started getting used to it again, Stiles continued from where he stopped, opening Derek up and licking up and down his hole with fervor and devotion.
“Auw!” Derek mewled, unable to control his twitching. It tickled, but more than that, his dick was excited by it. It felt strange to have someone playing with his ass, but at the same time, it also felt pleasurable. When the first finger slipped in, Derek clenched around it, reaching behind to hold unto to Stiles’ hair once again. “Please.” He begged, not sure what he was begging for. He wanted Stiles to continue, but he was too confused to know what else he wanted.
“Easy.” Stiles urged, putting his lips back there as he licked and prodded at it, still massaging away at his ass. “I’ll make you feel good.”
“I feel so good.” Derek promised him as a second finger slipped it and he groaned, burying his face in his sheets, unable to fathom how much he had been missing for years. It had taken him a while to learn that anal sex was not just done by sticking a dick in a hole, but there were such things as preparation and lubrication and making sure the person was ready for you.
He had learned to do that, mostly because he wanted his partners as satisfied as he was, by the end of the encounter. But he had never known the bottoms had it this good. As the third finger joined the other two, Derek pulled himself up to his knees, giving Stiles a better view and more access. He could feel his body loosening up and opening, getting freer down there. He did not want to be so empty anymore.
“Estoi listo. I’m ready.” He told Stiles, tapping him on the head as he ground his ass back into Stiles’ face, seeking his tongue… wanting Stiles to give him everything. “Get it… fuck me, my god.”
Before he could issue another plea, he felt the tip of Stiles’ dick press into him just a little as his body quivered again, trying to accept the pressure. When he nodded into the bed and tapped Stiles again, he pushed even further into Derek.
“FUCK!” he cussed, throwing his head back as he pushed himself up and knelt, with Stiles plastering himself across Derek’s back. “Do it. I can take it.” He said as Stiles began to move, holding him by the hips and rocking into him slowly and dragging it out as he hit a spot in Derek that took his breath away for a second. He gasped, unsure what was happening.
“Just relax. It’s just a love spot.” Stiles explained as if Derek was virgin who had no idea what a prostate was. He knew how the male body worked. He had touched other people’s… love spots. He just never knew it would feel this way. Wrapping his hands around his dick, he arched at Stiles as the god groaned behind him.
“I’m good.” He moaned when Stiles continued to move, rocking faster, gripping Derek tight as he fell back to the bed, unable to take the pressure to his knees, but unable to ask for it to stop. It could not, should not stop. Not until forever. The added pleasure of Stiles’ dick behind him and Derek’s hands, tugging at his own dick felt too good to be true. Derek was ready to spend his life on his knees, getting fucked by a god. “Oh god!” He said out loud. “ARGH!” He yelled, coming as he spilled his cum unto the pillow beneath him, clenching so tight that he thought his asshole would squeeze Stiles’ dick right off.
Stiles held him in his hands, letting Derek shudder the orgasm from his body for what felt like hours. He could not think. He could not feel. All he knew in that moment was that his dick could not stop releasing.
When he finally collapsed unto the bed, limp and unable to move, Stiles picked up the pace behind him, using him, fucking into him to hard that whatever shivers of pleasure was left in Derek was jerking out of him. By the time Stiles was coming, empting into him, Derek was screaming again, unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth. At some point, he was very sure he was praying in Spanish to a Polish god. And he did not care. He just lay there, pouring his heart out in praise and worship to the man… the god who had just fucked his brains out of his skull.
This fic is based on a Tumblr post about a lesbian and a gay man
Derek thinks Silia is a liar.
She’s a drug dealer for, one. Every once in a while he will hear her let lose some part of a story that just convinces him that he really shouldn’t be hanging out with someone like her. She has some seriously dangerous friends and even though she smiles and rubs all over him and cuddles him when she sleeps, Derek can’t let himself forget that this girl will probably get him killed one day.
Oh, and she’s a liar.
Like the time they met and he hit on her but she told him she was a lesbian. He’s not so sure she’s really gay. Not with the way she acts around Isaac. But Derek’s not about to call her out on it because he’s a little scared of her and he likes her company. She’s funny and intelligent and a little kooky. But she’s nice. And she’s somehow become Derek’s best friend.
But she’s a liar.
Because when Derek had hit on her and she’d said she wasn’t straight, Derek had honestly said:
“I thought you were a boy.”
And she’d said:
“Oh, I have a twin brother… if that’ll help.”
She hadn’t shut up about this twin, running her mouth all through the evening about how great he was and how alike they were and how much Derek was going to love him and how… yada, rainbows, daya.
Derek has stuck around because she is okay, sometimes, and she tries not to shove her life of crime in his face all the time. But it has been three years since they met and he still cannot understand why she keeps bringing up her non-existent twin brother who Derek has never met. There’s always a reason why, though.
“He was in New York for just one night, Derek. You couldn’t have met him.”
“He’s in town for a conference so I don’t think I’ll be seeing him, myself, Derek.”
“He’s an FBI agent, Derek. He’s busy.”
“He doesn’t like to take pictures so I don’t have anything to show you. Just imagine me… but without boobs… and hair… and a personality.”
So, Derek knows Silia is lying. He’s sure of it.
Not until he walks into her hideously over-priced apartment one day to find a very muscular, slightly taller version of Silia standing in front of her TV with a toothbrush in his mouth and a towel around his waist.
“Hey!” The man says, waving. “You must be Derek.” He walks over and offers Derek a hand for a shake.
Derek’s stunned his appearance and how much alike this man looks like Silia. His hazel-colored eyes and his pink, thin lips and his pert nose remind Derek of her. But his hair is short and his body… god, he’s so toned and hot and… and now, Derek feels hot. He doesn’t know where to look, but he’s sure his eyes are tracking down Silia’s twin’s chest.
He knows he should probably stop. This guy is an FBI agent and if Derek tries to jump, chances are that Derek would end up really physically hurt. So he tries to remember if Silia has ever actually said anything about her brother’s sexuality. He doesn’t think she has.
She has told him what kind of underwear he wears and how he likes chips sprinkled into his gravy, but Derek’s not sure if this man would very much like to go out on a date with him.
“I’m Stiles.” He says, shocking Derek back into the conversation.
“Derek.” Derek says.
“I know.” He says with a laugh around his tooth brush. “Silia talks about you all the time that I feel like I know you.”
“She talks about you too.” Derek says, moving in to the apartment with the bags of groceries in his hands.
“Yeah? Well, she keeps trying to sell you to me. She thinks you’ll make an honest man out of me. Help me settle down.”
Derek slows his walk to the kitchen, not entirely sure he’s heard what he just heard. But if he did, then it clears it concerns for him. it makes everything better.
“She said that?” And Derek just knows that he’s blushing because Silia’s brother, Stiles? He’s smirking right at Derek and it shouldn’t be so cute and hot with a toothbrush in his mouth.
Derek thinks, maybe Silia is a drug-dealing psychopath. Maybe she is a crazy-assed bi-sexual in denial. Maybe she is a dangerous person and Derek really should stay away from her.
Derek holds out his hand and Stiles stares at the thing.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” He asks, deadpanning.
“Whatever you want.” Derek shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant.
But there’s absolutely nothing to be nonchalant about. This is a big deal.
“You hate me.” Stiles notes as Derek splutters to deny it, not actually able to bring himself to use actual words. But the spluttering is enough to tell Stiles that Derek is trying to disagree. “You can’t stand me, then.” Stiles rephrases, but Derek just looks at him.
“If you don’t want it-” Derek’s hand starts to drop but Stiles moves quickly, grabbing the hand and holding it in his, unable to pretend that he has any self discipline.
“You’ll stop me.” Stiles asks, forgetting to add the question mark, but Derek nods, regardless.
He understands what Stiles is going through. He understands the need to break the bunny diet. He’s losing his mind and he’s not reacting well to the anything-but-human-blood diet.
When he’d thrown up the bunnies the first few times, his dad had grown worried. He went to the store and returned with a crate of that god-awful Trublood, which… eww. It turned out to be worse that the bunnies and that was saying something seeing as bunnies tasted terrible.
For the past two weeks, Stiles has been losing sleep and, even for a vampire, Stiles is paler than usual. He knows he’s not ancient enough to sparkle when he walks in the sun and he knows he’ll probably never be because he’s not a Cullen.
Stiles had woken up the morning before, gotten ready for school and stepped out into the sun, only to feel the burning of his skin as he jumped back in. He looked down at his day light ring and there it sat, reliable as always.
It isn’t working, though. Nothing is.
Deaton’s herbs can’t help and the witch who had spelled the ring for Stiles had finished her business in Beacon Hills and left months ago.
Stiles is broken. More than a dead-among-the-living vampire is capable of being, he thinks. Something is wrong with him no one can fathom what it is.
So here Derek is, holding his wrist out like salvation, promising that if this doesn’t work, they can leave. Make the dreaded trip to Mystic Falls. As rare as witches are, Derek knows a witch family there anyway.
“This is a big commitment.” Stiles says, salivating at Derek’s wrist.
“I know.”
“If I ever get urges-”
“I’ll come and you can drink your fill.”
“I can’t become a ripper, Derek.”
“I won’t let you.”
Stiles believes Derek. He can feel it in the way Derek says it with certainty, his heart steady, his eyes focused on Stiles. He’s going to watch out for Stiles. He’s going to make sure Stiles doesn’t kill anyone.
Nodding, Stiles takes a deep breath… and sinks his teeth into the supple smoothness of Derek’s flesh.
Because of all this talk of erasure of Scott McCall, I challenged myself to actually do it. I’ve decided to take my best, most sensible, Sciles moment in canon… and ERASE the heck out of Scott McCall.
Enjoy!
_____
“Stiles.” The Doctor says, turning to them. “Just to warn you. You’re going to hear a lot of noise during the MRI.”
Derek doesn’t hear the rest of it after that. He can’t quite concentrate. He’s standing there, staring at Stiles who looks so fragile… so broken… so done with everything. This isn’t something Derek thinks he can fix. This isn’t mere pain that Derek can drain away.
One way or another, something is terribly wrong with Stiles.
Either he’s developing his mother’s symptoms. Or worse, Stiles is possessed and has killed/will kill innocent people. This is isn’t something Derek thinks Stiles can handle. He can’t even think of what is going through Stiles’ head as he sits there, nodding at the doctor and trying not to break before them all.
In a moment of stupidity, Derek manages to look up. And he sees the sheriff. It’s the worst thing in the world. This man, whose wife died and left him nothing but a son. This man whose world is about to come crashing down on him. Derek has nothing on his pain. Derek would never even come close to understanding what this family is going through.
He shakes his head. He shouldn’t even be here. This is something personal. Something sacred. Stiles is going through a shit ton of messes and Derek is only standing here because he got nosey and came by.
Realizing that he’s intruding, Derek tries to step away.
But a hand slips into his and holds him in place. He looks down and, surely, Stiles is holding him there.
“Don’t go.” Stiles says, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“Okay.” Derek agrees without thought. He might be intruding, but if it’s accepted, if he’s wanted, Derek isn’t going anywhere.
“If you want, we can get you some ear plugs or headphones.” The Doctor says.
“No.” Stiles shakes his head, still gripping Derek’s hand. “I don’t need anything.”
“We’re just on the other side of that window. Okay?” the Sheriff says. Stiles pats him on the back, obvious aware that his father could use the comfort, but Derek nearly cries wondering about Stiles and what he needs in that moment. He’s the one about to be checked out and chances are that everything that can go wrong is going to go wrong.
Derek doesn’t know what to do.
When the room clears out and it’s still just the two of them, Stiles bites the fingers on his other hand and looks up at Derek.
“I’ll be fine, you know.”
“You don’t know that.” Derek says before he can help himself.
“Scott can turn me.” Stiles says, biting his nails even harder. Derek can see it. He can smell the amount of sourness in Stiles when he thinks about becoming a werewolf. He may have wanted it at some point, but Stiles doesn’t want to be a werewolf now. Even as he says it, it’s so obvious to Derek.
“You don’t need to be a wolf to survive.” Derek says. “We can find another way.”
“There is no other way.” Stiles says.
“It could kill you too, Stiles.”
Stiles stops biting, steeling for a moment as the hand holding Derek grips even harder.
Unable to take it, Derek pulls him into a hug that Stiles latches unto, sobbing softly into Derek’s neck.
“I’ll find a way. I swear.” Derek promises. “If you’re sick. If something is trying to kill you. If something is trying to control you. I’ll find a way to save you.”
“Big words, Derek.”
Derek pulls out of the hug and looks Stiles in the eye.
