Moon Whispers - 9/?
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Category: Angst, Romance, Humor
Disclaimer: I don´t own them. Nobody is capable of owning them.
Summary: What happened when Stiles was possessed?
Warnings: M/M, Slash
Feedback: Doesn´t scare me. :)
Released: August 2014
Word Count: 7.085
"Home, sweet home," Peter purred in greeting to the shadowy loft.
"Sarcastic much?" Derek scoffed in return, scanning the place quickly. Everything looked normal for a place almost empty, and still there was...
"Please let me remind you that it was you who wanted to come back here."
...something different, something disturbingly juicy. "Shut up."
"Hey. Why so moody? We´re back, right? You can join Scott´s pack now," Peter snarled mockingly.
Derek´s nostrils flared, alarmed. "Do you smell something?"
"What? After hours in the car I´m not allowed to smell a bit ripe?" Peter smirked briefly but then shrugged Derek´s suspicion off. "Yeah. Sure I do. They were here. So what? This place is not exactly heavily guarded."
Derek glared at him. "Get some rest."
"Does my dear nephew need some alone time?"
"Tsk tsk tsk, kids today," Peter said, but went upstairs anyway.
Derek waited for some time to make sure his uncle was really gone and not lurking around the corner. Then he turned around and sniffed some more. Yeah. Many had been here but a familiar scent caught his attention particularly. That scent led him straight to his bed. There. The place was impregnated with a distinct and spicy flavor. Peppermint gum and curly fries. Stiles! What the... Why did his bed smell like Stiles? His unmade bed. No pillow. No covers. Only the bare mattress. He had packed the sheets and the pillow case away before he had left. Yet Stiles had been here, lying on the mattress, rolling around like...like he was... He bent down, sniffing tightly focused. Okay...fine. Puzzle solved. He shook his head to get rid of the memories crushing down on him and went to the bathroom in a hurry. Shower. Yeah. He smelled beyond ripe himself.
Cooled down he put fresh sheets and a pillow case on and laid down on the bed which was coated in Stiles´s scent. Naturally he couldn´t sleep, though he was heavily exhausted. He should think about why Deucalion had sent that girl to save him and Peter, not Stiles, damn it. Why had Deucalion paid her to save him? Did Deucalion think he owed him? Did he plan to trick him? Yeah, he should think about that, but no, he was constantly thinking about Stiles instead. He couldn´t stop imagining how Stiles had been lying right here on this spot, jerking off, breathing his name.... Derek glanced at the phone resting on the nightstand. There had been no more texts from Stiles since he´d gotten it from Cora. Not one single message. Many times he had been tempted to text something trivial himself, but he never did, too afraid of rejection. He huffed. How did Stiles even get in here? What was he looking for? He must have known I was gone. Scott had certainly told him. Why don´t you call him, huh? Just a casual call to let him know you are back. No. He wouldn´t talk to me after I just left. I know he´s fucking mad at me. Right, but not too mad to come here and jerk off in my bed, huh? He punched his crumpled pillow, again and again, trying to let go. So? Even if he was, I have no right to call him. I won´t do it. Just stop thinking about the...
...last kiss Stiles and you shared. Soft and sweet and soulful ...Ah... Stubbornly he ignored the urgent tingle in his balls. He forced himself to think about anything but Stiles, don´t, just don´t, and succeeded by drifting off to sleep, though he was dreaming again, about Stiles, of course. Only the nature of the dream was totally different this time, far from being a nightmare. Stiles giving him a cheeky grin. Stiles forcing him against a wall, kissing his exposed neck, taking the lead, marking him. He growled, liking it a lot. "Okay, big, bad wolf. Show me. Let´s see what you can do with that...uh...yeah..." Stiles´s hands on his cock, rubbing delicately, still grinning like a know it all. "...you like that, huh...yes that´s it...come on, Derek...oh god, yes..."
He jerked awake, not at all surprised that he was sporting a hard-on you could die of. He groaned into the sweaty pillow, inhaling more of Stiles´s scent. He had to...yeah...he couldn´t rest until...well, growing up in a house with a big family who were also werewolves he had learned early to keep every joyful sound inside. He had always come silently or had muffled every tiny moan into a pillow or bitten his hand until he sometimes even broke the skin. Okay. Fine. He could do this. Fuck! He needed this...needed...ah shit...lazily he started licking his palm, making the skin moist and warm to wrap slick fingers around his cock, squeezing gently. Ah...yes. He hadn´t jerked off in some time, considering the mess lying behind him, leading to him leaving Beacon Hills. Why didn´t he say good-bye to Stiles? What was he so afraid of? Leaving him had been hard enough but being back and close to him again, smelling him all over the place made him lose control... he wanted to lick him, taste him, fuck him, so deep and hard and.....good, yes, good...more...faster...deeper... He came surprisingly fast and almost cried out. Instead, he bit his hand until he bled. Breathing a trembling sigh, and enjoying the aftermath, he was drowning himself in Stiles´s scent, while rubbing his jizz and a bit of blood all over his belly and thighs. I miss you. That confession to himself made him feel a lot more vulnerable. Exasperated he stifled a howl into the pillow. Fuck!
The next morning the sun was bathing the loft in light, ignoring his state of mind. He huffed in front of the window, daydreaming.
Peter sneaked up on him. "What is going on with you?"
"Nothing." Derek avoided looking at him.
"Lying to me? Really?" Peter smirked like the biggest asshole ever. "Who is it?"
"Nobody. I´m better off alone." Quickly Derek walked away from him. Peter was able to smell a lot, even if he had showered twice and changed the sheets at the break of dawn once more. As long as Peter was acting like his shadow he didn´t dare go to see how Stiles was doing.
"Fine. Be like that. One day you will..."
"Let´s get this over with." Derek seized the needle he had prepared earlier.
"If you must," Peter replied with a touch of creepy affection.
Uncaring he grabbed Peter´s hand and plunged the needle through Peter´s flesh. Only the box with the triskelis symbol was important now. Only...
Peter flinched. "Don´t you have any anesthetic?"
"Yep." Ignoring Peter´s request Derek continued to sew Peter´s finger back on, being more cruel than necessary in the process.
"Are you at least gonna tell me what I risked life and digit for?" Peter said, groaning once again. There. The deed was done. Peter looked at his fixed hand.
"I´m gonna show you." Derek opened the box and spilled the contents. Claws. "After the fire that´s all that was left of her."
"Talia," Peter said, stunned. "I can´t decide if that´s touching or morbid."
Derek glared at him. "I have to ask her something." Unfortunately he needed Peter to make this work, no matter that he didn´t like or trust him. He needed Peter to make a ritual work where he could talk to his dead mother. "And from what I´ve heard this is the only way it´s possible."
"You gotta be kidding me?" Peter complained, finally fully aware of Derek´s intentions and the real source of his care.
"Why do you think I sewed your finger back on?" Derek sneered, almost amused about Peter´s misbelief that he would care for his health.
He woke up, confused. Where was he? What had happened? Why did he feel like he´d been dunked in ice? The last he remembered was that he went out shopping for groceries as well as secretly visiting Stiles´s house after Peter had finally backed off a bit, hunting for missing answers himself. Derek hadn´t found Stiles, though, and as he realized that it was Halloween he had figured that the boy must be out partying, maybe even making out with...yeah...fuck. Pretty frustrated he had come back to the loft, and while he was unloading his car he had scared three kids who approached him trick or treating by wolfing out. Yeah. That had been fun. Then...oh, right...he put a hand up and with his fingertips he felt a mark behind his right ear...then three dark figures had appeared out of nowhere and knocked him out. What the hell? They marked him like they owned him. They abused him. He threw his head back and howled at the sky. He howled like a wolf calling for his pack. A lone wolf. An Omega.
Shaking with anger and loss he made it back to the loft. Thundering noise welcomed him. The room was filled with strangers, dancing to some annoying tune they called music. They had invaded his home without permission. Those little shits! Furious he smashed the DJ´s equipment off the table. The bang made the crowd freeze in motion and look at him. "GET OUT!" he roared. They panicked and ran. He snorted. Humans. So predictable. Except for the one. He sensed that Stiles had been here, too but wasn´t anymore. So. He had been worried sick about the human idiot and he had been dancing in his home like he was allowed to. The longing to see him, even if he should be rather mad at him increased to a painful level. He just wanted to look him in the face and tell him...tell him... what?
Suddenly there was no time to be angry or sad about Stiles or humans in general because the dark figures appeared again and he and Scott and his friends had to fight against them. Now he was glad that Stiles wasn´t here. At least he was safe.
After they were done fighting he didn´t dare to ask Scott about Stiles. He didn´t want Scott or anyone to know about his silly concerns. He had to confront Stiles by himself. Very well said but he didn´t find Stiles at home or at school or at the precinct. He decided to follow Scott around, hoping he would meet with Stiles, after all they were best friends. Scott met a lot of people, some Derek had never seen before, but no Stiles. Instead he and Scott got involved in more fighting. He was finally done waiting or hoping. "How´s Stiles?"
"Stiles?" Scott raised both eyebrows quizzically in surprise. "He´s at the hospital, finally resting, because he was exhausted due to trouble sleeping."
"I see." Derek´s stomach clenched. He had known. Stiles was not alright. Something bad was going on and Stiles was affected by whatever it was.
"You can visit if you want," Scott said casually, a clever glint in his eyes.
"It´s fine," he lied, trying to keep his heartbeat steady. "He´s better off resting." He couldn´t go there right now anyway. They had more serious problems to deal with.
In the middle of the night Scott called him, asking for his help. Stiles was missing. He turned frantic with worry. Don´t. Just don´t. He´s missing. Not hurt or... dead. Christ! Focus! You need to focus. "I´m on my way." In a hurry he drove to the hospital. This is my fault. I should have gone to him as soon as I was back. I should have... He had never felt so helpless in his life. No. Once he had felt the same way. Back when he had found out about Kate. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He slammed his foot down on the gas. His wolf whined.
Scott had brought some of Stiles´s clothes to help him remember the scent.
"No need. I can do this." He was capable of finding Stiles´s scent at every place that he had been to, even if he´d been gone for hours, days even, no matter that he hadn´t seen Stiles for months. He would remember Stiles´s scent always and forever.
"Right." Despite the serious situation Scott made some kind of a funny face.
Doesn´t matter what Scott thinks. He picked up Stiles´s scent in the hallways of the hospital room and followed it up to the roof. There he lost it. "He´s not here. Not anymore. Gone." Damn it, Stiles. Where are you? What is happening to you? Why didn´t you come to me? He was scared he´d find Stiles harmed, or worse, dying. He was terrified he´d never see him again. He had left him behind, and that Stiles was in danger was partly his fault. He should have been here to protect him. He should have stayed in touch. He should... fuck! What´s done is done. Now is not the time to sulk about what could have been.
The scent of Stiles´s anxiety was so strong he had to hold himself back from howling in despair. "There was definitely some kind of struggle."
"With who?" Scott asked perplexed.
"Himself." Derek´s stomach was in tight knots now and he could barely focus on anything else anymore. Stiles´s fate had become the most important thing in his life. Stiles had become the one he kept holding on to. Stiles had become... Oh no. Derek´s eyes widened in shocked revelation.
Scott´s parents found Stiles hours later hiding in a cave. Derek was really grateful to Melissa´s ex even though he had never met the man. Stiles was brought back to the hospital, where he was put under observation. He was safe, because Derek didn´t believe the ongoing rumors that Stiles was possessed by a dark spirit. Stiles was not the type to be chosen for such a thing. Not him. Never him.
Still Derek wanted to know for sure and so he hunted for the answers himself. He sought out the new girl in town, Kira, a Kitsune, to show him what had happened at the power station. She helped him, looking kind of fearful and curious at the same time. He liked her at once.
At the power station they found Stiles´s baseball bat sticking to a locker. Derek just knew it was his. The damn thing was magnetized. He became a lot more concerned. He hazarded a guess about what had happened. "Kira, I need you to tell me everything you know about foxfire." He hoped he was wrong.
Nope. He was not.
Back at the hospital Kira didn´t want to come in with Derek. She feared that Scott didn´t want her here because she was somehow responsible for the dark spirit jumping into his best friend Stiles.
"You should probably wait here," Derek agreed. What am I thinking myself considering how much I care for Stiles? Do I hate her? Do I think she´s responsible? No. It wasn´t been her fault. That she is a Kitsune is burden enough. What happened was only a coincidence. Bad luck at its worst.
Overthinking his options for what to do next he sat down with Scott in the hallway, waiting for Stiles´s tests to be over. The waiting was worse than back then with Cora close to dying. Cora was his sister, yes, but Stiles was...yeah...Stiles was...what?
"He was asking for you," Scott interrupted his brooding.
"He was not," Derek deadpanned.
"Then there must be a different sourwolf bothering him in his sleep," Scott implied smugly.
"Shut up." Derek felt his cheeks burn. He knew that Scott wasn´t lying because he was the only one who knew about the unique nickname anyway, but still....
"He missed you, you know. He wouldn´t say, but I could sense it every time your name came up, and it came up a lot."
Derek didn´t reply but trained his eyes on his hands. He couldn´t say he had missed Stiles, too. He couldn´t say how close they really had become in the last couple of weeks before he had left. Neither could he tell Scott everything about what his mother Talia told him at the Nemeton. Evil is coming. You have to find a new anchor. You need to trust him. He didn´t lie, though, only left out the very intimate stuff, which was not important for anyone else to know. No. The only important thing right now was for Stiles to get well again.
During their personal chat Scott figured out that Stiles had been protecting them. "From himself," Derek realized at the same time. They headed back to the roof. They arrived too late. Stiles had already damaged a power cable. Seconds later the power supply failed. Amidst disaster Stiles disappeared again.
They had gathered at the animal clinic. Deaton had been informed about everything that had happened so far, particularly the possession of Stiles. "We have to find him," the vet said soberly. "We have to protect him from hurting the ones he loves and himself." He looked around and fixed his attention on Derek.
Derek held his breath. That man was able to make him feel like the worst born werewolf ever. He remembered pretty well how much the emissary of his mother despised him and his insulting words about his skills as an Alpha. Yeah, and he was right, wasn´t he? He sucked.
"I think Derek is the one who could find him easily if he would just trust his instincts."
"What?" Derek spurned him. "No. Scott is the one. Not me. Stiles is better off with anyone else than me. He doesn´t trust me."
"You truly think so? I think you two have a connection much stronger than Stiles has with anyone," Deaton challenged him, a meaningful look in his eyes. "You two have a simple equality. Am I wrong?"
The kiss, huh? Yeah, well, thanks for not telling everyone. "He doesn´t want my help," he disagreed weakly but not very convincingly. "He hates me."
Scott snorted, Lydia rolled her eyes, and even Allison gave him the strangest look. Dude! Are you serious?
Deaton was not so kind as to hold back the words. "This is not about you, Derek. This is about him. Do you want him to lose his mind? Do you want him to kill someone? Do you want him to die?"
"No," he pressed out, and the muscle in his jaw twinged violently. That man was a pain in the ass. Why was he testing him? What did he want? Why couldn´t he leave him alone? He knew he was not good enough. Not an Alpha anyway. "I´ll do what I can."
"I know." Deaton´s face turned softer. "I don´t expect any more than that."
"Fine." Derek wiped sweat off his forehead. He was feeling cold. He didn´t know that could happen to a werewolf. He didn´t know much anymore.
"What will you do?" Scott interrupted their mysterious understanding.
"I have to go and get something we need."
"Where?" Lydia said, wrinkling her nose as if she had some kind of premonition.
Fuck! How did he end up here, handcuffed at the precinct, sitting right next to Chris Argent of all people. This was like a nightmare coming to life. For two days he had been trying to find Stiles, chasing through the woods, mostly wolfed out, sniffing the air like a creature ruled by instincts alone. He hadn´t had any sleep and he could hardly focus anymore so sore his eyeballs felt, begging him to rest already. On the second day he had stumbled over a coyote cave where he found Stiles´s scent as well as a second familiar but weird scent he couldn´t specify.
Finally going back to the loft he had discovered a frequency emitter sitting on the desk in front of the window. At once he had suspected Chris Argent had put it there but the hunter said he didn´t do it. Derek believed him, even though he didn´t trust Argent because of their history and because he was a threat to Stiles. So? Who had put the emitter inside the loft? Stiles? Was he creeping around the loft again? Did he seek him out? Did he plan to hurt him? Now that it was certain he was controlled by a dark spirit anything was possible.
Frustrated he pulled at the handcuffs. He remembered his nightmares of Stiles drowning in black water. Once again the one he loved was- the one he what? No no no. He didn´t love Stiles, he cared for him. Yes. That´s it. His jaw worked. He had to get out of here. Damn it.
"I don´t suppose you have any idea why Stiles would frame us for murder?" Argent asked casually.
Nice try, man. "I didn´t think Stiles was smart enough to frame us for murder." Yeah, good, distract him. Of course he remembered the time Stiles got him arrested. He just didn´t trust the hunter enough to tell him about what Stiles was capable of. "I could easily get out of these handcuffs, you know." He had to get out of here to find Stiles. He couldn´t waste any time dealing with humans other than him.
"So could I," Chris replied, unimpressed. "But I´m not interested in being a fugitive from the law."
"Well, I´m not interested into being a victim to a seventeen year old possessed by a psychotic fox." Yes, Stiles is seventeen now, but not eighteen. So let it go; stop putting him down all the time. Do you do this to let everybody think you don´t care one bit about him, huh? That´s not the way this works. Argent is not buying your shit. Neither are Scott or Deaton. Maybe you should stop lying to yourself. Maybe you do love Stiles.
"Just give me a few more minutes," Chris pushed him. "Derek!"
"Fine. If something happens don´t expect me to risk my life trying to save yours."
He was slightly surprised by the hurt in Argent´s face. What the hell? What was going on with all these humans suddenly becoming a part of his life? What was happening?
He certainly didn´t have time to remember his statement later when his ears were ringing madly due to the blast of the explosion, and his back was covered in pieces of broken glass because he had covered Argent with his body. He barely noticed the pain, or the noise, though he sniffed the air instinctively. Sulfur. Yes. A cloud of sulfur blocking his nose, but he also caught a whiff of Stiles´s scent hanging around. So? The boy was here all the time visiting his father. Of course his scent is lingering here. And still....the scent was not right...not quite...oh god...he swayed...
Argent grabbed him firmly. "Derek?"
"I´m okay," he breathed. "I´m okay. Okay." No. He was not okay. He was hurt and terrified and alone.
He and Argent were locked up behind bars after the police had cleared the damaged area. He eavesdropped on the policemen talking, and swapped the information with the hunter. Derek was surprised by how comfortable he felt around a man he once considered being his worst enemy besides Kate. But could he really trust him? Could he put Stiles´s fate into his hands? "You know, if all of this is true, people are dead because of Stiles."
"But is it really Stiles? You remember, we had this problem before."
"But we got lucky with Jackson. What happens if you don´t get lucky?"
"I guess that depends on how much or how little of Stiles is left," Chris mused, and then told him a story about a teenager who turned into a Berserker and killed a lot of people by tearing them apart. The boy was long gone. Chris had felt no remorse putting him down.
"Would you feel any remorse putting Stiles down?" Derek swallowed hard, and was relieved that he had never revealed any of his feelings.
"Stiles, yes. But not a nogitsune."
Derek didn´t say anything in return. He couldn´t cope with the thought that Stiles could die or even worse that he´d have to kill him. He wouldn´t let Chris do this. He wouldn´t let anyone hurt Stiles. He already lost Paige, had to kill her himself. Enough is enough. He wouldn´t lose Stiles. He wouldn´t give up on him no matter what he had to do.
He would rather die.
He and Argent were released. The charges had been dropped. Derek wondered what miracle had helped them when the sheriff himself walked in and threw him a curious glance. Derek tensed. He had a lot of respect for Stiles´s father. He was a good and trustworthy man. Yeah. Like his son. The sheriff showed them the brainscans of his late wife and Stiles. They were the same which was impossible.
The sheriff asked Derek and Chris to help him to trap Stiles. He was certain the nogitsune tricked Stiles into believing that he had the same disease as his mother so he had given up hope and didn´t fight back anymore. Derek didn´t like the sound of that. A hopeless Stiles was someone he had never met, not even in contemplation of death. Naturally he and Chris agreed to help. Not wasting any time Chris walked out the door and Derek intended to follow him but the sheriff called him back.
"Sir?" Derek gulped. Oh Shit! What now?
The sheriff squared his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "Is there something - anything you might know that could help to find my son faster?"
"I don´t know what you´re implying, sir," Derek replied, a bit baffled. "I already tracked his scent. That´s the best I can do-"
"You and my son," the sheriff interrupted him in the softest tone, "is there something going on between you two?"
"Sir, I guarantee you..." Yeah, what? That nothing had happened? That was a god damn lie.
"Don´t. I know my son, and I´m not accusing you of anything, okay? Just...after you had left town he started having those freaky nightmares. A few times I even caught him sleep walking. Once or twice I found him on the streets, shaking all over. And finally only a couple of weeks ago I found him at your loft, clinging to the empty bed there like he was lost. I never asked him why he went there in the first place, not even after I caught him mumbling your name in his sleep but...." The sheriff cleared his throat awkwardly as if it was him who had done something wrong. "...well..."
Derek was torn between embarrassment and affection. Damn, Stiles. I´m an asshole. "I-we-" He broke off and sighed heavily. "We went through a lot together. We´re allies, maybe friends. It´s.... it´s complicated," he said at last, even he knew that there was more, a lot more he could never tell. Maybe one day if he survived all of this.
"Is it?" The sheriff shook his head, bewildered. "Okay, I don´t think we have time to discuss this any further at the moment. Just tell me one thing. Do you care for him?"
"Yes," Derek said from the depths of his heart. "And I´ll do anything I can to find him, sir. I would die for him."
The sheriff looked pretty shocked by his fierce statement. "I don´t want you or anyone to die helping me save my son. I understand if anyone wants to back out."
"Iím not going to be the first wolf to run from a fox," he said defiantly. No. He wouldn´t let Chris Argent go after Stiles alone. He would never forgive himself if he let Stiles down. Not again. He wouldn´t run but fight.
"Fair enough." The sheriff nodded toward Chris waiting outside the office. "Let´s go then."
The battle against evil was over. The nogitsune had been forced out of Stiles, trapped and put away. The victory was bitter, though, because Allison had been killed during the fight. They had lost one of the pack. Scott´s mate was dead. Scott was heartbroken, of course. So was Isaac. The worst was Stiles who had fulfilled his part in the demon´s killing spree and now suffered through his own little hell. So much loss. That the injury on his shoulder was still not healing was the least of his problems, Derek decided, while he stared out of his window, blind to the view, once again musing over the choices in his life. Would he ever get it right? Would he ever be happy? Would he ever stop being alone? He was so lost in his misery that he even flinched at the familiar sound of the phone ringing.
"Mr. Hale? This is Sheriff Stilinski."
"Sheriff? What can I do for you?" What now? Is Stiles alright? Did something happen?
"I thought, maybe, now that I know that you and my son have some kind of connection..."
Breathing anxiously Derek listened to the man stumbling over a few simple words.
"...Stiles still has trouble sleeping. Could you come over, and..."
"Please. Stiles wouldn´t ask, but I know he wants you here."
"I don´t think so, sir. He..."
"...talks about everyone but you. He crumples his favorite pillow to a sweaty lump, mumbling random words like stupid werewolves and fucking Hales."
Well, maybe... Derek sighed. "Okay. Fine. I´ll be right over." Frankly he had expected that Stiles would have worse problems than trouble sleeping after all that had happened. He had expected a breakdown or at least a hysterical fit.
The sheriff was waiting for him already at the open door, fully dressed for work. "Thanks for coming. I appreciate it." Curiously he eyed the object in Derek´s hands. "Is this his?"
"Yes. I thought he´d want it back."
"He might," the sheriff said vaguely. "I´m not sure about what he wants at the moment. Okay, this is my number. You can call me anytime."
"Thanks." Politely Derek seized the small piece of paper. There was no need to tell the sheriff that he had his number already saved in his phone.
"I called Scott first, but Melissa, his mother, said he is not up to doing this. He..." Nervously the sheriff raked one hand through his hair.
"It´s fine. Don´t worry," Derek soothed the man, who was rambling on like his son. Kind of endearing.
"Okay. I´m going. Stiles is upstairs. I guess you know the way."
Ah shit. "Yes, sir." Quickly he turned around and climbed the stairs, feeling the sheriff´s gaze hitting his back like a question mark. Seconds later he heard the door close. He was alone with Stiles, who he found lying on the bed, face buried in a pillow, not sleeping, rather tossing, turning, and wheezing.
"Hey," Derek said softly, while his heart was pounding in his chest like frenzy. Oh, very mature.
Stiles jerked around. "What do you want?" he snapped, his eyes the image of someone who had been to hell and back again.
"I´m only here to help. Your father went on duty and called me to look after you, primarily to help you finally get some sleep. And I think this belongs to you." He showed Stiles the bat he had found at the power station.
"You want to hit me unconscious with it?"
"If I have to," Derek quipped and put the bat in a corner. "Or I could use my werewolf powers to put you to sleep."
"You wouldn´t dare," Stiles murmured, flushing.
"Try me." Derek couldn´t believe he was enjoying this a bit, not after all that had happened to Stiles. He had missed this. The banter. The clashes. Stiles.
Derek didn´t even flinch. "Stiles..."
"You fucking left!"
"I came back."
"I hate you."
"That´s fine." Derek shrugged the blow off. He could take it. And he very well deserved it.
"Fine? Fine! Are you fucking kidding me?" Stiles put his arms around himself, shaking. "I don´t need you being nice to me...just because you pity me, okay? Don´t-"
"I never pitied you," Derek cut him off. This was not the time to go into one of their fights. The boy was not fit for it. Resolutely he seized Stiles by the shoulders, not using the slightest tip of claws. "And now you will do as I say."
"Damn you!" Stiles struggled, yes, he even punched him. "Ah! Crap!" He shook his hand, enraged because he´d rather hurt himself with the attack.
Derek didn´t fight back but embraced him. "You can hit me as much as you want."
"Asshole! I want you gone."
"Right." Derek held on to him, stroking Stiles´s back with just his fingertips, the same way he did back then, when he comforted him after being beaten up by Gerard. "You know you can´t lie to me." The scent of fear and desperation was so strong he could barely keep control, though it also felt so good to touch him again, because even in pain Stiles was able to make him feel grounded and positive. Derek took away as much pain as he could by keeping up the rubbing of Stiles´s back, and licking a curve along the tensed jaw he started kissing the familiar moles, one by one. "...peppermint gum...and...curly fries..."
That did it. Stiles shuddered and broke down, sobbing. "Fucking leave."
"Nope." He didn´t mind that Stiles soaked his shirt with tears. "It´s okay. Let go. I can take it." Derek kept caressing him until the shaking and the sobbing finally ebbed away. "Better now?" He put Stiles gently back on the bed.
"I am so tired," Stiles wailed, broken.
"I know." Derek´s heart twinged painfully. He pulled the blanket over Stiles. "That´s why you need to get some rest." He got up and walked to the one chair by the desk. He remembered the first time sitting there, watching Stiles thrashing in his bed, the night after the boy had saved him from drowning.
"D-Derek!" Stiles cried in sheer terror.
"I´m right here. I´m not going anywhere."
"The darkness - I can´t..." Stiles´s mouth twitched madly. "What if he comes back?"
"N-not even in my d-dreams?" Stiles started shaking again.
"Not even there. I promise." He went back to the bed and sat down on the edge. "I´ll protect you." He put a hand on Stiles´s shoulder reassuring him of his presence.
"There´s enough room for two," Stiles said shyly, avoiding looking at him. "Please."
Does he think I´d turn him down? Really? And? Shouldn´t I? Maybe if my heart would was made out of stone. Derek sighed and took his shoes off. Carefully he sprawled his body next to Stiles, putting Stiles´s face into the crook of his neck. "Close your eyes now and think of good things... things you love and enjoy."
"Okay." Stiles´s breathing hitched in strange ways that did not sound like fear. "Just - my dad installed a security system including cameras," he murmured, sounding just a little bit like his usual cheeky self.
"Yeah? That´s good to know..." ...before I do anything no dad wants to see.
Stiles gripped his arm. "D-Derek... I... I don´t hate you. I-"
"It´s fine. I know you don´t. I..." He couldn´t go on. He couldn´t go into this right now. He couldn´t say how lost he had felt out there in the world without him. He didn´t dare to say the words and jinx the unexplainable and magical bond they had shared right from the start. They both had suffered enough bad luck.
Stiles nestled his face closer against his neck. "...missed you..." His heartbeat slowed down and his restless mouth twitched into a smile. His fingers remained tightly entangled in Derek´s shirt. He fell asleep almost instantly.
"Missed you, too," Derek whispered, wounded by Stiles´s honest affection. "You don´t know how much."
A tease of breath fluttering against his neck awakened him, and he was not that surprised to find himself tightly enwrapped by Stiles´s lean body, plus a hard-on pressing into his crotch. Ah, shit, Stiles. You never make anything easy, do you? He snuggled closer still, feeling comfortable and... at home. Stiles just smelled so perfect, bringing him peace and warmth and.... he couldn´t resist nibbling at Stiles´s earlobe. Never had he felt more anchored than he did now.
Stiles shifted and his hard-on brushed along Derek´s crotch.
He couldn´t stop one blissful moan slipping past his lips. Damn. Stiles tensed and Derek knew the boy was awake. Okay. He dared to look at him and noticed so much fear and hurt and guilt in those eyes that he was smitten with compassion. "Almost like that first night in bed together when you were rubbing off on me," he said dryly to break the tension.
"W-w-what?" Stiles jerked away from him, flushing endearingly.
"Okay, not what I meant to say. I just..."
"You do?" Derek raised both eyebrows.
"Yes. Nobody would want me with all the dark stuff that has happened. Not after what I did..."
"Stiles. You did nothing. That was the nogitsune."
"Yeah." Stiles struggled out of bed and stood awkwardly in front of him. "I´m hungry. Let´s have some breakfast."
"Fine," Derek agreed quickly. Don´t fuck this up.
"See you in a few minutes," Stiles said and rushed to the bathroom.
Okay. Breakfast. Not making out. Derek exhaled slowly and stretched his sore muscles. Sleeping in his clothes never made him feel good about himself the next morning, rather filthy and wasted, but today he experienced a strangely exhilarating sensation. He got up and strolled down to the kitchen. There he opened the faucet and rinsed his mouth and washed his hands. With still wet fingers he raked casually through his hair. Okay. That had to do for now. He opened one or two of the cabinets until he found the coffee. He´d just filled the first cup when Stiles came in, freshened up, and clothed in slacks and a blue shirt.
"Thank you for fixing the Jeep."
Ah, right. I´d already forgotten about that. "No problem. I know how much you care for it. What do you want to eat?" I wonder who told him. Certainly not Aiden.
"Cereal." Stiles opened the fridge and grabbed a carton of milk.
Derek filled a bowl with cereal and seized a spoon. "How did you sleep?" Neatly he put everything on the table.
"Pretty well." Stiles smiled and sat down.
Derek grabbed his cup of coffee and joined Stiles at the table. "No dreams?"
Stiles doused the cereal in milk. "None I didn´t like. Just-" He stopped abruptly and bit his lip, rashly taking a spoonful of cereal, crunching it loudly between his teeth.
"So?" Derek said, determined not to tease him any further on that matter. There were other things to discuss. "Tell me. Why exactly was I King on your chessboard?"
Stiles´s reaction was superb. He coughed and spit and swallowed until his eyes were watering. "God dammit, Derek!"
"What?" He leaned over the table, taking the spoon from Stiles´s trembling fingers, thumbing the boy´s naked palm meaningfully. "Was it something I´ve said or done?"
Stiles blushed. "Dude..."
"Yeah?" Derek leaned closer, breathing on the boy´s lips. He knew he shouldn´t but he just wanted to kiss him. He just wanted to make him forget about all the darkness by making him come, again and again....
"Good morning, guys."
They both jerked back from each other. Stiles´s bowl and Derek´s cup tipped over, pouring white and black fluids over the table, joining into one.
"Crap! Have both of you agreed to give me a heart attack?" Stiles fussed.
The sheriff stared at him in disbelief.
"I´ll get this." Derek staggered to his feet and fetched a rag from the sink. Hastily mopping up the brown mess, he was feeling a bit less confident. He´d just remembered the installed security system. How much had the sheriff seen? Did he hurry home to kick his ass? Did he regret that he had invited him over? Did he want to arrest him?
"I see you´re feeling better," the sheriff addressed his son dryly.
"He slept through the whole night," Derek said, wringing the rag out over the sink.
"I´m happy to hear that, son." The sheriff nodded at Derek. "I´m grateful, Mr. Hale."
"Please call me Derek." He was done cleaning the table and washed his hands once more.
"Alright, considering how close you and my son..."
"Dad!" Stiles banged the almost empty bowl into the sink.
"I have to go," Derek said, heading for the door. "I need to wash up and change." He ignored the killing glare Stiles was giving him. He knew he was more or less fleeing the crime scene.
"I´m sure you have more important stuff to do," the sheriff speeded him on his way, visibly relieved.
"Ha-Ha!" Stiles snorted, scowling. "Brooding and growling all day long maybe."
"Take care," the sheriff said to Derek, and closed the door behind him.
Derek was so not hanging back, eavesdropping.
"So? Derek Hale," the sheriff said smugly.
"Yeah. So what?" Stiles muttered defiantly.
Derek had heard enough to make him feel better than he had felt in a long time.
"How are you?" Deaton asked Derek a few hours later, having him and Scott over at the animal clinic.
"How is Mr. Stilinski?"
How should I know? "Better," he grumbled reluctantly.
"I see." Deaton checked his shoulder once more. "This is finally healing. Is there any chance this might be happening because you trust someone at last?"
"Maybe," Derek huffed. "Scott is-"
"No," Deaton cut him off. "Not him."
"So?" Derek writhed under the relentless look of the much wiser man. "What if I do?"
"I´m surprised. That´s all. Yet I´ve waited a long time to see this happen."
Derek jerked his head around, making his neck crack violently. "What? Back then you were talking about Scott. Scott, right? Not him."
"Was I?" Deaton deadpanned. "I´m not sure. Are you?"
Derek just gaped at him. The man was a mystery. He didn´t get him. He would never figure him out. "No," he admitted finally. "Not anymore."
"I call that progress." Deaton looked surprisingly fond of him.
That´s a first, Derek realized, and felt kind of hopeful. Maybe life could be good and blissful, even for him. Maybe he was ready to move on and finally leave his traumatic past behind.