A/N: this got long. And the angst I promised? Here. ALSO: I am not ace. Writing an ace character is new and if I fuck it up, I welcome constructive comments in my ask box. Enjoy!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Story Tag
There is something wrong with Stiles.
It takes him until Peter leaves to pick up food to realize--the quiet, withdrawn stillness, the flat hurt scent--it wasn't because he was afraid of Peter.
It's because something is wrong.
Derek isn't a good alpha, no matter what Peter insists and he realizes it again, as he sits in silence with a boy who is never silent.
That night, in the warehouse. Stiles had smelt of blood and hurt, of something deeper and sharper that made his stomach twist. And Derek hadn't asked. He had let Peter pull him away and Stiles was left alone.
“I'm sorry,” he says, softly. He wants to reach out, to scent mark the way he can smell that Peter did.
“You can't always take care of us,” Stiles says, voice tired.
“I'm supposed to,” Derek says. “You were hurt and --”
“I'm fine,” he says, and his voice is tinged with hysteria, an almost desperate need for Derek to accept that.
But for the moment, he doesn't press for more.
After Stiles leaves, he rolls his head to look at Peter. “What happened to him?”
Peter frowns. “He didn't tell you?”
Derek picks at a string on the blanket he curled in and shakes his head.
Peter growls and Derek wants to duck away, wants to bare his throat for him.
He wants Peter to hold him, like he did that first, awful night.
He just doesn't know how to ask for that.
“Gerard kidnapped him. I don't know everything that happened, but I know he hasn't been the same since.”
Derek frowns, shifting on the couch anxiously. “What--we're gonna fix it, right?”
Peter's expression softens and he nods. “Yeah. We'll fix it.”
It's far easier to say than do. Stiles is withdrawn and quiet, something both Peter and Derek try to focus on, but there is the continued absence of Derek’s betas that have both of them preoccupied.
Stiles realizes they’re searching for Erica and Boyd the night Derek and Peter slip through his bedroom window.
The room smells different--less like sex, more like safety and it makes something twisted and tight in Derek’s belly ease.
“We should talk to Chris,” Stiles says, and Derek blinks at him.
“What would Argent know about the puppies?”
Stiles stares at the papers Peter has sprawled across his desk, and his scent goes sharp and bitter. “Because they were there. They were in the basement with me.”
They agree to wait until morning--Stiles throws a fit and demands they let him go too, and he can’t go until morning. It’s better this way--Derek needs to talk to Peter.
“Stiles--he smells different.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Peter says.
Derek shifts. “It’s sex--he doesn’t smell like sex.”
Peter looks at him and he can feel his ears warm. “It--when sex is too strong, it makes my stomach hurt. And his room doesn’t make my stomach hurt.” Derek doesn’t look at Peter, carefully keeps his gaze on his hands, on his jeans. “He isn’t jerking off. Hasn’t for a while.”
Peter nods. “I think something else happened in that basement, pup.”
“He has to tell us,” Peter says and it should grate, taking order from a wolf that is his beta--but it’s Peter, and Peter has always know what’s best, has always been savage in his protection, and it makes some of the tension drain away, to realize that Peter is taking care of them.
“Is that why you haven’t come back to my bed?” Peter asks, that night, when Derek is reading and he startles so badly he drops the book. He stares, wide eyed and spooked and Peter leans against the couch, staring at him. “You aren’t comfortable with sex.”
Derek licks his lips, and shakes his head, quick and anxious. “No. I--I never have been? It’s never been a problem, because I don’t date. But now--” he breaks off, scowling at his book.
“Now you think I want you,” Peter finishes.
“No,” Derek protests. “Now I want you. But I still don’t want sex? And--I know that isn’t fair.”
Peter makes a dismissive noise and steps closer, reaching for him. He pauses, waiting, and Derek sighs, pressing into Peter’s touch, letting it ground him.
“I want you, pup. Not sex. Just you.”
“Derek,” Peter says, and there’s a bite of command that makes him go still. “Do you want to sleep in my bed?”
“The get comfortable, and get in my bed. I’ll lock up and be there in a moment.”
He doesn’t even think about not obeying. He strips down to his boxer briefs and crawls between the sheets that smell of Peter, and closes his eyes, listening to Peter checking the locks and clicking off lights. Then he’s in the room, and Derek can hear the rustle of clothes and he tenses until Peter slips into bed.
And even then, Peter doesn’t touch him. Derek stays quiet and still for a long moment, and then he turns and looks at Peter. Peter is quietly staring back, his expression empty and waiting.
“You set the pace and limits, Derek,” he murmurs.
Derek watches him for a moment longer, and then he scoots across the cool sheets and tangles himself in Peter, an arm around his waist, a leg twisted between his, face pressed to Peter’s throat. He presses a kiss there and feels Peter shudder under him. Wrapped up in his uncle’s arms, the last bit of tension flows away, and he sleeps.
Stiles is anxious, reeking of fear and nerves, and the closer they get to Argent’s house, the worse it gets.
Peter places a soothing hand on his shoulder, and the boy jerks away so violently he careens into his Jeep, his eyes wide and frightened.
“Let’s just do this,” he snaps, and almost runs toward the Argent door. Derek keeps pace with him, and flicks a red-eyed look at Peter when the beta snarls under his breath.
Whatever Stiles needs, it isn’t a wolfed out confrontation in the Argent entryway.
He holds onto that thought, until the front door opens, and burly hunter Derek remembers seeing with Gerard glares at them, disgust and hate all over his scent. He flicks a look at Stiles and smirks, “Come back for more?” he leers.
Three things happen at once:
Derek shouts as the hunter reaches for his gun, knocking him into the wall of the house with a bone rattling thud.
And Stiles drops to the ground in a dead faint.
