Work Header

Some Things Never Change

Work Text:

The random sunday afternoon when Derek gave Stiles the bite was the worst in his life. He swore to himself that he’d never do it, that risking it would be worse than death. But that was before the stupid, stupid human had decided to take a page out of his werewolf boyfriend’s book and throw himself headlong into danger to save his friends.

Or in this case, his Derek.

And the danger Derek was referring to were the arrows that the hunters facing them had just fired. They’d ambushed him, Stiles, and Scott on one of their nightly patrols of the preserve. It was a practice they’d started after the whole Darach thing went down a year or so ago. Back when he and Stiles had still been dancing around each other.

Anyway, as his ears caught the telltale whistle of the barbed projectiles flying toward him, Derek knew he didn’t have time to dodge, not with how fast they were arcing toward him. He should have been paying better attention. He shouldn’t have let his guard down, regardless of how uneventful their patrols had been in the past.

His nerves kicked into overdrive and Derek tried to push away from the oncoming bolts, when a familiar, raw-throated yell ripped across his eardrums. Stiles, he thought. And as the dumbass human arced into view, pulling Derek behind him, red hoodie being whipped around him by the force of his abrupt movement, Derek knew what was going to happen before it did. That didn’t make it any better when he heard the soft, wet thunks of the hunters’ arrows strike the human dead in his chest.

The body of Stiles Stilinski stood there for a second, frozen, just as Derek was, before crumpling to the ground with a flat, sickeningly mundane sound. Derek was on him in an instant, curled protectively over his head and torso, searching for anything, any sign of life. His back was to the hunters, but Derek didn’t care, thinking that if they killed him they might actually be doing him a service, if Stiles was dead. The only thing he cared about was currently splayed out on his side in the dirt in front of him, with three long shafts, already slick and dripping with his blood, protruding from his chest.

No no no, Derek thought, growling in frustrated anger. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end. He searched the human, drowning out all other sound around him. He could only pick up the faintest touch of a heartbeat in the human’s chest, and it was on its way out. He rolled Stiles over gently, and found his shirt stained with ever-deepening pools of blood. It smelled faintly of iron and pain, and it took all of Derek’s concentration not to gag at the scent.

“Stiles, wake up,” he pleaded, wrapping claws around the sides of his neck and shaking him gently, as if he thought it’d help. “Wake up, please, you have to wake up.” It’s not supposed to end like this.

As if by some miracle, some act of god(s), Stiles coughed to life, his eyes flicking open faintly as his heart struggled to keep his blood flowing. It was so weak.  Derek could already see the color behind Stiles’ skin beginning to pale as his bright, amber-brown eyes started to darken. He knew what was coming if he didn’t act fast.

“Stiles,” he whispered through his fangs, “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” the human whispered, coughing up a small dribble of blood over his bottom lip. “How’s it look.”

Derek didn’t break his gaze on Stiles’ face.

“F- fine,” he answered, trying desperately to keep his voice from sounding as broken as he knew it was. “You’re- you’re gonna be fine.”

Stiles chuckled. It turned into a painful-sounding cough. Derek fought down a cringe.

“Liar.” His heartbeat was starting to fade.

“Stiles, I- I have an idea.” The human closed his eyes, and Derek shook him back to consciousness.


“It’s going to hurt. A lot. But I think it’ll save you.” Stiles’ eyes met his for the briefest of seconds, pupils going wide knowingly. There was something behind them. Something mirrored for the slightest of moments in his scent. Around the blood, the metallic, cloying smell of his fading life, the fear that Derek could almost taste oozing from his pores, something hopeful and resilient slipped through, something almost wanting. It was a distinct scent, and carried with it the spicy, usually erratic aroma the human usually carried. “I just- you’ll have to… There’s no guarantee it’ll work.” There’s no guarantee that you’ll live, more like.

Using what little strength he had to him, Stiles reached up and threaded fingers into the wiry hair of Derek’s cheek. He always did love my wolf, Derek thought. He knew the teen didn’t have much longer, and could feel Stiles’ warmth leaving his skin as they touched. But he smiled anyway. If his usually perfect lips hadn’t been stained with his own blood, Derek would have lost himself in it like he usually did.

“Does this mean that I’ll… be like you?” He asked, voice strained, barely a whisper. He knew Derek’s rule. What he swore he’d never do again, especially to Stiles. But Derek nodded, not really noticing as heavy droplets of tears began to pool underneath his eyes and fall against the Stiles’ neck. “Are you sure?”

Derek nodded harder this time, as painful heat slipped up his throat to his face. “Yeah,” he answered, knowing full well what it meant. “But you have to hold on, okay? You have to- You have to hold on-” And with that, Stiles slipped from him, and Derek let a broken snarl rip from his throat, and sunk his teeth into the human’s hand, just before it fell from his face.

He hoped it was enough. Derek needed it to be enough. He couldn’t handle it. Knew he wouldn’t be able to, if Stiles left him behind, if he was left alone, again.

It wasn’t until they got him to Deaton’s that he felt a spark of hope come alive in his numb and fraying nerves.

“You were smart to leave the arrows in until you brought him here.” Derek looked up from aggressively kneading his hands. He was sitting in the waiting room of the vet’s office, had been for almost the entire night, actually. He was barely conscious of the time though, or the blood soaked into his clothes. Stiles’ blood. His mind had been awash with nothing but the thought of the human since they got here, cradling Stiles’ body against him, and Deaton had taken them quickly back into the exam area. He’d told Scott to go home, but he’d stayed behind to help Deaton work on his best friend, glaring at Derek for even suggesting it.

The snap of the vet pulling bloodied gloves from his wrists and depositing them into a biohazard bin brought Derek back. “If you’d have tried to remove them, he would have bled out before you got him here, and I wouldn’t have been able to do anything at all.”

“So is he-” Derek couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.

Deaton held up a hand in that placid, calm way that made Derek want to punch him.

“He’ll live.”

There was no happier moment in Derek’s life than when the sounds of those words reached his ears. He was thankful he’d been sitting down, or else he’d probably have passed out. It was still a distinct possibility

When the sound of his own ecstatic heartbeat died from his ears, Derek let out a sigh.

“Does that mean-”

Deaton let a small grin curve at his otherwise inscrutable face as he stripped off his equally blood-stained surgical gown, tossing it into the same can as the gloves. “Yes, the bite took.”

Derek would have kissed him then and there, just for that. Fortunately, though, Scott’s quick appearance from the back prevented any further ideas the alpha had. He jumped up, nearly knocking over his chair.

“He’s up, and he wants to see you.” Scott answered, before returning to the exam area. Derek made to follow immediately, and very nearly forgot about the mountain ash boundary until Deaton quickly threw open the gate in the counter.

The sight of Stiles sitting up on the exam table, rubbing absentmindedly at his healed battle wounds made Derek’s heart do a flip in his chest. The smile Stiles gave him made it happen again.

“Do werewolves live forever?” He asked, completely serious. Derek heard Scott chuckle in the background. Because of course Stiles already started in on the questions, no lingering, affectionate looks toward his boyfriend, no quiet murmuring of those three little words Derek so loved to hear him say, nothing. Only Questions.

It wouldn’t have mattered if Stiles had told Derek to aggressively fuck off at this point. To hear his heartbeat again, see the bitten red of his cheeks, the quick, lively tone of his voice, Derek would’ve given anything.

No,” he said, indulging the hum- new werewolf. “But we do live a long time. Much longer than humans.”

“How long?”

“Depends on the wolf,” Derek answered with a smile.

“More like, depends on whether-or-not-he’s-a-self-sacrificing-pain-in-the-ass,” Scott retorted from the background. Derek had to suppress a growl.

“Don’t make me break you two up,” Stiles joked, and Derek couldn’t help but want to kiss the easy laugh from his lips. From the front, Deaton called for Scott, probably sensing he was overstaying his welcome. He shot Derek an edgeless glare as he slipped back to the front.

“Feeling better, I take it?” Derek asked, edging closer to his boyfriend.

Stiles sat up and jumped from the exam table, landing gingerly. It was a movement that would have invariably led him to stumble and land flat on his face before.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Stiles answered, his scent thick and strong as usual, with a new, woodsy tinge. “I don’t know how, but- everything- it’s all changed, somehow.”

Derek stopped just outside of Stiles’ personal space. “Your senses are in overdrive still. They’re brand new. You’ll get used to it over time.”

“What’s that smell?” Stiles asked, wrinkling his nose toward Derek’s chest. The alpha didn’t answer. A small tinge of panic slipped into his veins. Because Stiles could now detect his scent and moods just as Derek could in return.

“What? Does it smell… bad?” He asked tentatively.

“No,” Stiles answered, taking a deep lungful and sniffing toward Derek’s chest. “It’s kind of perfect, actually.”

“Good,” Derek answered, slightly relieved, before closing the remaining slight distance between them and crashing their lips together.


“You’ve got to stop doing that,” Derek complained, watching Stiles flick his eyes from their human amber-brown to werewolf gold and back again. It’d been going on for the last hour.

“Why? It’s fun,” Stiles answered, defying him once more. Derek growled, and Stiles rolled his eyes dramatically. “Don’t give me that alpha shit, dude. You know it doesn’t work on me.”

He was right. Because of course the one time Derek turned the love of his life into his beta and he actually survived the process, Stiles instantly became a recalcitrant little fuck. More so than he was already.

“Still, you should stop. It’s distracting.”

“From what?” Stiles bit back at him, “All this glorious fun we’re having tonight?” He was referencing the monthly full-moon night-in they were currently having.

“I told you, if you go outside tonight, you won’t be able to control yourself. It’s your first full moon. Your wolf will take over, and I’ll have to chase you down like I did with Cora and Boyd. Remember? Remember how decidedly not fun that was for all of us?”

“But I’m boooored,” Stiles whined, fidgeting like a restrained child. “I wanna do something other than sit here and watch another Game of Thrones marathon.”

Derek sighed. Stiles’ persistence had tripled in its endurance since he’d been bitten. It was not a change Derek was prepared for.

“Fine,” he answered curtly, clicking off the tv halfway through the latest episode’s opening credits. “What do you want to do instead?”

Stiles cocked a wry smile toward him then, and Derek caught the hint of his canines poking into the flesh of his lips as his eyes swirled to their golden sheen. The alpha’s veins flooded with warmth as Stiles’ overpowering, heady scent hit him square in the nose. It made his nerves fire unexpectedly, and blood begin to rush decidedly southerly direction.

“What do you think?”

Derek shook his head, more in exasperated resignation than denial. “You have a one-track mind, you know that?” He aggressively ignored the way he was beginning to harden underneath his sweats.

“So do you, apparently,” Stiles intoned as he leaned in to drink the scent of the alpha. “You’re practically dripping with it.” Derek let out a mildly threatening growl as the beta nudged toward the crook of his neck and licked his lips in a manner that he could only describe as obscene. “Oh, relax, Sourwolf. I’m not going to bite...” He paused for effect, and Derek’s cock throbbed to hear the way his voice resonated with his newfound prowess. Even his wolf whined at the sound.

“... Yet.” He licked a stripe up the side of the alpha’s neck, and Derek nearly came on the spot.

They started on the couch, with Stiles flinging himself over top of his alpha’s hips, intense, superheated warmth of his long thighs bracketing Derek’s lap. He dove into Derek’s mouth, nipping the points of his canines against his lips, his tongue, and the taut skin over the curve of his jaw. He wrapped clawed fingers around the sides of Derek’s neck, the points of them drawing little sickle smiles of blood as they dug into his skin.

It wasn’t long until Derek had Stiles on his back, pressed firmly into the sofa, a deep, hungry growl slipping up his throat as he ground against the younger wolf’s crotch. He’d ripped Stiles’ shirt from his chest, not even bothering with trying to pull it off of him, as he bucked and moaned underneath Derek appreciatively.

“Does it-” Stiles’ voice was already hoarse and a shade more broken than it’d been during their previous encounters. “Does it always feel like this?” He asked, letting his eyes slipped closed, as Derek nuzzled at the reddening skin of his throat. “Fuck, how do you stand it?”

Derek’s response was half a growl as he yanked down Stiles’ sweats and boxers in one fell swoop and pressed his leaking cock against Stiles’ hole.

“I don’t,” He answered, barely inside Stiles’ rim when the teen arched his back and cursed through his teeth, wrecked, angry snarls slipping through with them. He barely managed to wrap a hand around his throbbing, angry-red cock before he was coming hot, messy ropes of it against his stomach, and dragging the claws of his other hand across Derek’s back hard enough to pierce the skin. Derek growled.

No sooner did the aftershocks of his orgasm recede than Stiles was ready for round two. Derek had been expecting it. Usually with the first full moon came the first heat, and in wolves that didn’t have the proper training, they were just as likely to try and fuck whatever prey they came across as they were to try and kill it. Hence the reason for keeping Stiles inside, away from the moon.

Anyway, Stiles lasted a little longer that time. Derek was several thrusts into his hot, wet hole, before he was suddenly coming again. It progressed like this for the rest of the night, each time Stiles took more and more time to finish, to recover, and Derek felt like he was going to explode. By the end of round number three, the alpha’s mouth was dry, lips raw and cracked, and the marks left from Stiles’ teeth and lips were sore, taking a little longer to heal than they would normally. His breath came out in short, ragged puffs, and he could barely get coherent words out around them when he tried.

“Stiles… I need- need you, I need to…” was all he could get out, kneeling, curved against the round of the teen’s ass, cock still pressed firmly inside of him. Stiles was canted forward, head bracketed by a folded arm as he breathed out the last ruined exhales of his third orgasm of the night, the one that had ruined Derek’s sheets and his ability to think.

Hell if he cared, though. All he wanted was to fuck, to claim, to mark, to take Stiles then and there. He’d been holding back because he knew, he’d known what it’d mean if he did. He wasn’t sure if Stiles was ready for that yet.

“What?” Came Stiles’ soft, almost obscene response. “What do you need?”

“You,” Derek breathed, leaning forward to press a barely-restrained kiss against the thick, wet heat of Stiles’s spine, letting his heady scent curl into his nostrils. “All of you. Now. Tomorrow. Forever. All of it.” It was the most cogent thought he’d had all night.

Stiles arched up into the contact, skin quivering at Derek’s words, like he knew, like he wanted it too. He twisted around to pull Derek into a desperate, almost frantic over-the-shoulder kiss, lips open and filthy as Derek sank into it and started to thrust again. The soft, needy little groan that Stiles let slip from his mouth was enough to almost push Derek over the edge. He could feel it. The building force of his orgasm was sitting just behind the base of his cock, threatening to overwhelm his restraint at any moment. He wrapped his claws over the points of Stiles’ hips as he started to pick up the tempo, the sharp, glorious sensation of the teen wrapped around his cock. With each push, each pull, Derek’s strength began to ebb, until his senses started to narrow in on the feeling, the connection between them. Suddenly mouth filled with Stiles’ taste, his nose with his scent, ears with the sound of his erratic, sprinting heartbeat. The push scrape pull of his skin, the grate of his nails, bite of his teeth, curl of his toes, thrust of his hips, all of it was ripping Derek wonderfully, beautifully apart, misfiring his nerves and fraying their endings.

And he couldn’t stop it. As the quick, rhythmic slapping of their sweat-slicked skin became less steady, Derek knew it was done. He wasn’t in control anymore. His wolf had taken over. He was merely along for the ride.

But that didn’t stop him from feeling the precise second when the white-hot, pulsating ball of his orgasm flooded his system as come spilled from the crown of his cock, or when Stiles clenched around him, groaning, shifting, growling as he came again, mere seconds behind Derek.

Derek slumped against him, breaths utterly ruined as they spilled from his lips. For a moment, Stiles held them both up, locked forward against his elbows, wrecked air slipping from his lips as Derek felt his knot slowly expanding inside him. It was nearly morning, and despite Derek’s cock being raw and sore, he had no desire to pull out of Stiles’ warmth. None whatsoever.

Curved together like one person, Derek eased them both down to the mattress so that Stiles’ body was spooned within his own on their sides.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, voice cracking slightly.

“Yeah?” Came the response, just as wrecked and soft as his mate’s.

“Are you- Is that what I think it is?”

Derek let the slightest bit of panic to slip into his veins. It was too late to do anything about it now. “Yeah.” He didn’t want to venture anything more.

“Why didn’t that ever happen before?” Not the question Derek was expecting.

“I- I wasn’t sure before. Well I was, I just… wasn’t sure if you wanted it.” Stiles didn’t answer, but Derek could smell the questions on his scent.

“How did you know?” Now that needed an explanation.

Stiles shrugged, shifting against him ever so slightly. “What, you thought I was gonna jump into this without doing my research first?”

“Well then why didn’t you say anything?” Derek asked, perplexed.

Stiles was quiet for a second. “Because I knew what it meant.” Derek’s heart melted in his chest. “Mates,” he sighed. The panic evaporated from Derek’s veins as quickly as it came.

“Do you- do you want to be?” Derek asked tentatively. The ship was already sailed on him, but Stiles could still choose.

He could almost hear Stiles’ lips curl into a weary smile.

“Dude, I’ve always been yours.”

“Good,” Derek answered, as Stiles pressed back against him, and pulling one of his solid arms to wrap around his chest.


Derek was the first to admit it. The night that he gave Stiles the bite changed everything.

Gone was the old, one-hundred and forty-seven pound fragile human Derek fought to keep by the sidelines. Gone were the days of his scent being tinged with fear when Derek unexpectedly wolfed-out, or shoved him up against a wall for getting too involved in one of his messes.

Now, at every battle, Stiles was there next to him, snarling and shifting and ripping apart any enemies that found their way into Beacon Hills or the surrounding territory. He still saved Derek, on numerous occasions, actually. But the alpha worried less when he did.

Okay, that was a lie, especially when he’d been knocked out by that rogue alpha a few months back, and Stiles had flat out challenged the beast. It took Scott, Isaac, and everything they had to actually kill the damn thing, despite Stiles’ best efforts.

Truth be told, Derek still worried every time Stiles got involved in something with him. But he knew now that he could handle himself. Derek knew that he was safer now than he’d been in the past. What he’d done was worth it.

Stiles was strong. He had more control over his wolf than anyone Derek had ever seen. After that first full moon, he never saw Stiles shift accidentally from anger, surprise, or instinct. It only happened when he wanted it to. That was usually when he needed to protect something, or someone. He could call his wolf to the surface just as easily as he could call Derek to his side, or slice open a bag of potato chips with the snick of a canine.

Seriously, he seemed to use them to do that more so than anything else. After turning, Stiles’ voracious appetite seemed to only get worse. But that’s a story for a different time.

Derek watched him train, watched him grow stronger than he’d ever been before he claimed Peter’s alpha. Before, he and Stiles were equals in everything but this. That wasn’t the case anymore. Now, with Stiles the werewolf, Derek had finally met his match.

Stiles was his mate, the one to stand by his side, to protect him, to anchor him, to share his bed and his heart. He was the one that could fight with Derek, throw him back and challenge him and make Derek love and hate him in the same breath. He was also the one to hold Derek, to wrap himself around the werewolf on those horrible nights when all he could think about was his past, his mistakes, and all the guilt that those thoughts brought with them. Stiles knew his scent, the way it shifted, and knew what buttons to push to get him to that sweet, torturous edge of arousal just to catch a whiff of it.

He was eternally frustrating, never shut up, and constantly threatened to rip Derek’s throat out with his teeth.

Yeah, everything certainly had changed, but Derek loved every minute of it.


It was a random sunday afternoon when they were walking through the preserve, less a patrol and more a leisurely stroll these days. But Derek still never dropped his guard. Not after the last time.

“Do you ever regret it?” Stiles asked randomly, from behind Derek’s protective shoulder.

“Regret what?” Derek asked, legitimately confused as he sniffed the air. Stiles worked his way up to his side.

“Me. Giving me the bite. You always said that I was better off without it, you know, before.”

Derek stared at the dry, brown leaves that covered their path as they walked. He remembered his rule, and that he’d promised himself never to turn anyone else. He also remembered how he broke it.

“You were dying, I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” Derek answered, hyper-aware that Stiles’ gaze was still fixed on him.

“Fair enough,” Stiles shrugged as they walked. “But even still, did it bother you at all to do it?”

Derek shrugged, turning to catch Stiles’ still naturally interrogatory expression. “A little, at first. I wasn’t sure how you were gonna handle the change, hell, I wasn’t sure if you were gonna live at all at first.” Stiles chuckled, time having dissipated the pain of those wounds.

“I’d say I fared pretty well, considering,” Stiles admitted, none too confidently. He was right, of course. He had. In the nearly fifteen years since that awful sunday, Stiles had been nothing but the perfect wolf, the perfect mate, at least in Derek’s opinion.

“Yeah, well I didn’t know that then,” Derek reasoned. “And given my luck with my first pack, I was afraid- that history would repeat itself, only worse. Because it was, you know, you.”

“Please, like I was going anywhere,” Stiles chuckled. “Did you know how hopelessly gone for you I was back then? I would’ve followed you around forever, if I could. Werewolf or not.”

Derek had no doubt. The thought of it made him smile, albeit only slightly.

“I know.”

“Good. Because you biting me may have screwed up everything else, but some things, dude,” He slid a warm palm against the small of Derek’s back, “Some things don’t ever change.”