Derek wanted nothing more than to gouge his claws into his head, yanks his ear drums out, and use them is some unspecified but painful manner to kill both boys. He tried not to watch their reflections from the window, but there wasn't much else to do yet. Having to rely on someone else still rankled, but despite the annoyance, Scott and his friend had proved remarkably trustworthy.
"But, dude, where do I put my hands?" Stiles whined, leaving the wolfsbane on his desk so he could swivel around and look at Scott.
Scott shrugged, still poking at his bow tie in the mirror. "I dunno, maybe like a steering wheel, at ten and two?" he offered, somehow managing to hook his wrist through the inside loop of his tie. "Maybe you'll get lucky, and she won't want to dance?"
"You two are pathetic," Derek growled, tightening his hands on the windowsill until he heard the wood creak. It had taken all year, but he'd finally tracked the Alpha down and if it took him until his last heartbeat, this would be the last night that bastard saw. The wolfsbane shells wouldn't do more than flash and bang at the more powerful werewolf, but Derek would take whatever he could get. He was just glad he talked the boys out of going with him.
"What would you know about it? You're probably like a hundred years old or something," Stiles said, turning around to the desk where he still had half a dozen shotgun shells to finish stuffing. Apparently, he'd learned something besides eavesdropping and stalking from his father the Sheriff. "Did they even have prom back then?"
"I'm not a vampire, you moron," he snarled, taking a step forward. But that step forward put him a little too close to the unprepared wolfsbane, and he felt adrenaline rush through him. He quickly went back to the window, and muttered, "I went to prom."
He'd asked AmyLu Riley and she'd worn this pink confection of a dress that swirled around her legs and tripped him any time he'd tried to get too close. She'd finally taken pity on him and sat down in his lap to smear her bubble gum flavored lip gloss all over his mouth. They were going to go to college together. He knew it'd been a case of puppy love, but when he found her blackened body in the smoldering timber of his house, he'd howled until his throat bled.
Scott snorted, managing to untangle the mess he'd made with his tie and start over from scratch. "You mean someone was that desperate?" he asked, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a smug grin.
"If I don't die horribly tonight, I'm going to eat you both first thing in the morning," Derek promised, crossing his arms over his chest. Of course, he'd promised something similar almost weekly since they'd met, but he was pretty sure he would go through with it this time.
Stiles dropped his pliers and almost fell out of his chair in his hurry to pick them up. He hunched miserably over his desk, working quicker to finish. He had his dress shirt on but unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. Somehow, he'd gelled the short fuzz of his hair into spikes, and his cologne had probably destroyed Derek's sense of smell within five seconds.
He wondered what he could have possibly done in a previous life to deserve to listen to their preprom jitters. Derek was lucky he caught them early enough the afternoon to threaten the teenager into doing the job. When Derek had first walked in, Stiles had been wearing his hot pink tie around his head with the tail hanging down his back.
"Have you thought about dinner yet?" Scott asked, staring at himself in the mirror while he tied a knot bigger than his fist. "Mom reminded me not to order anything that would drip on my shirt."
"How many rules are there?" Stiles yelled, flailing his arm through the air. "What I can eat, and how I have to dress. What music I can dance to. And what if she wants to kiss at the end of the night? What if she doesn't?"
"In case you guys haven't noticed, I'm about to go out and fight for all our lives," Derek yelled, throwing a lacrosse stick across the room to interrupt their panty party. It banged harmlessly off the one part of the wall not covered with posters or trophy cases, but made a sufficient crash to get their attention. "So, if it's not too much trouble, maybe you could concentrate on helping me not die?"
Stiles and Scott both looked at him for a drawn out moment and then turned to face each other. "What if she's chewing gum?" Stiles continued as if Derek hadn't said a word, though he did tap the last of the wolfsbane into a shell and seal it away.
"Offer her a mint first," Derek answered, rolling his eyes. He kicked a pile of dirty clothes out of his way and walked over to check on Stiles' work. The kid might be brain dead, but he did good work.
"That's not a half bad idea," Stiles answered, dumping the laced shotgun shells into a box for Derek to carry with him. "But what about the approach?"
Scott finally got the tie in a decent knot and lifted his arms in victory. He turned around and chuckled, "Yeah, it'd suck if you gave her a bloody nose."
"Oh my God, I hadn't thought of that!"
"Seriously? How did you two even get dates in the first place?" Derek asked, shaking his head. He bundled the box up in one of his old shirts and then put the whole package in his bag. He set that on the bed and then grabbed Stiles by the neck and pulled him to his feet.
"Hey! C'mon, I did your dirty work!" Stiles yelled, curling his hands around Derek's arm. He glanced hopefully at Scott, but Scott stayed to the side with his head cocked, a strange look on his face while he watched them.
Derek shifted his grip until he cupped Stiles' jaw in his palm. The boy was still too scared to move, staring up into Derek's eyes with his mouth slightly open. Derek moved closer until his knee nudged between Stiles' legs.
"Be gentle," Derek said, breathing wildly, though he doubted Stiles would notice over the rapid-fire shots of his own heartbeat. "Touch her jaw and tilt her head the way you want it. Go slowly, look her in the eyes, and then lick your lips. Press against her mouth and wait. Wait until she makes the next move."
Then he followed his own advice, tipping Stiles' head to the side. He loomed more than the two inches of height he had would allow for and held Stiles' eyes. Flicking his tongue of his bottom lip, he watched as Stiles dropped his gaze to Derek's mouth. Before he knew it, he'd curled his other arm around the boy's back and pulled them tightly together.
Without another thought, he pressed their mouths together and held his breath. Stiles shivered in his arms and locked his knees, swaying away from Derek's chest. Derek winced and started untangling himself, glad that this was more than likely his last screw up before he died. He couldn't have guessed at what had come over him.
Jerking, Stiles grabbed Derek's jacket and opened his mouth wide, instantly shoving his tongue into Derek's mouth. He latched on like a bloodsucker, but made the tiniest kitten noises as he licked at the corners of Derek's lips. Derek took control, gentling Stiles until the kiss was a slick heat and low rumble.
He couldn't remember the last time he kissed someone, when his pulse quickened for something besides anger or fear. Derek huffed a small laugh against Stiles' cheek that this would be his last hurrah – a kiss with a boy who couldn't stand him. He pulled away, slowly, bumping their noses together once before he stepped away.
The boys stared at him, and Stiles looked both well rumpled and scared to death. Derek winced, and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He went to the window so he wouldn't have to have another awkward conversation with Scott's mom. "Have fun at your dance," he said, words sliding like gravel through his throat. He ducked under the window and slid one leg over the side.
"You have fun at your ritual combat thing," Stiles said, still blinking like he'd spent too long staring at the sun. "Try not to die."
Derek smirked. "You too," he said, and finally dropped out the window and landed lightly on the lawn. He looked up for a second and listened as the boys talked.
"Yeah. Hey, you don't think he was serious do you?"
"About dying at prom? I don't think you're in much danger, Stiles."
"No, not that, the other thing. The thing, you know. With the tongues?"
"Who knows, he's too weird."
"Yeah, he's a freak."
Derek sighed, not that he'd really expected anything else. He'd been young and an idiot once. One way or another, he probably wouldn't have to worry about them again after moonrise. Still, he couldn't help the pang in his gut.
Stiles might not be too bad when his mouth was engaged in something besides talking.
Against his will, Derek blinked an eye open as he heard the fourth step on the staircase squeak. He didn't bother moving; if someone wanted to kill him now, then more power to them. He probably couldn't have stood up if the house caught fire. So really, they'd be doing him a favor.
He groaned, pushing his face into the musty pillow he used with the mattress set on the floor. Maybe, if he was lucky, the boy wouldn't be able to find him and would go away.
"Oh, hey, there you are."
"Yes, here I am. I guess your ordeal last night didn't kill you," he said, hitching up his blanket to cover his hips and belly.
Stiles shifted his weight, causing more of the floorboards to squeak in some kind of bizarre symphony that speared right into Derek's brain and made him wince. "Yeah, you too," Stiles said, overly loud. "I brought you breakfast. I thought you'd be hungry after that whole, fight to the death thing. If you lived. Which obviously you did. Mostly."
"I hate you," Derek said, but even to his own ears it lacked conviction.
"And, hey, you don't even smell so bad this time. I got you burritos, unless you hate those and then you can have my bagels."
Heaving a sigh, Derek rolled over to his back, and blinked hard as the morning sunlight hit him right in the eyes. He sat up and grabbed the offered bag, pulling out an egg, bacon, and salsa burrito. Once the smell hit his nose, he realized how hungry he felt. He scarfed down all three burritos and was licking his fingers clean when he realized Stiles hadn't said a word the whole time.
"What?" Derek asked, glaring up at Stiles who was staring down at him.
"Your eyes," Stiles said, tilting his head.
Derek waited but when it was obvious that Stiles had gotten lost in his little pea brain, he prompted, "My eyes? What?"
"They're blue," Stiles answered, and then quickly shuffled backwards until he hit a wall. "Are you about to jump up and rip my throat out?"
After the fire, when his sister became his Alpha, her eyes had changed. At first, he thought it was simply grief shining out through her tears, but then the ice blue color had remained. Derek rubbed a knuckle over his eyes and wondered why his would change now, if Scott was considered his pack. He thought about not being alone anymore, and something fluttered in his chest.
"So, did you kiss her?" he asked instead of answering Stiles' question simply because he knew it would irritate the boy. Not because he didn't want to think about his own miserable lot. Besides, he was pretty sure he wasn't any more likely to do some damage than he ever was around Stiles.
"What? Oh, uh, no," Stiles' face flashed to a bright red, but he did come back over to the mattress and flopped down cross-legged. "She ditched me as soon as we got to the after prom party. Scott and Allison let me hang out with them."
Derek felt his gut ease before he realized he'd worried. He crunched the wrappers of his breakfast into small plastic balls and tossed the whole bag over to the corner. "Tough luck," he said, already feeling better with something besides blood and raw meat in his stomach.
"It might have been my fault," Stiles sighed, sitting backwards on his hands and shifting until his shoulder brushed against Derek. "I might have been a little distracted."
"Worrying about little ole me?" Derek teased. He could feel his short burst of energy wearing off. Weights and chains hung about him, dragging him down toward slumber, and he didn't want to put up a fight.
"Yeah, kinda," Stiles chewed on his lip, "I mean, I wondered…I wanted…"
It was much harder to open his eyes again after every blink. He could tell something was bothering Stiles, but he couldn't put the pieces together. "Hm?" he asked.
Derek definitely didn't see it coming. Stiles brushed his thumb across the stubble on Derek's cheek, fitted his fingers against his ear and under the bump of his jaw. He leaned forward slowly until Derek couldn’t focus and finally shut his eyes. Derek's blood hummed slowly, content with a slow burn when he felt Stile's hot breath on his lips. The boy was a fast learner; this kiss was smooth, if still a little too wet. Stiles' hands were freezing on Derek's skin, but the contact made him purr with pleasure. He kissed closed mouthed until Stiles groaned with frustration, and then he gently eased his tongue into Stiles mouth and showed him how it was done.
Between his own exhaustion and Stiles' weight, Derek lied down on his mattress and let Stiles lean over him. He rubbed his hands down Stiles' back and fit his hands on the dips by the boy's hipbones. Their kisses lasted longer, until Stiles jerked away to catch his breath and managed to catch Derek in the ribs with his elbow.
"Shit," Derek cursed, scrunching his face. It hadn't actually hurt that much and wouldn't leave a bruise. His body had healed itself of all the rips and broken bones, but it had left him completely wrung out. He could almost feel his blood settling at the bottom of his body now that he was prone again.
"Sorry! Did I hurt you? Sorry."
Stiles frantically rubbed his hands over Derek's chest, and at any other time, Derek would roll the boy over and show him why teases never prospered. As it was, it took all his concentration just to catch the boy's hands and hold them in one place over his sternum.
"It's fine. I'm fine," Derek said, feeling his words start to drawl and slur. "I want to sleep for a day and a half and eat my weight in steak, but I'm fine. I probably won't be decent company for a while."
"Oh, I haven't…I mean," Stiles fidgeted so long that Derek pried open an eye to look at him. "It's just that I didn't sleep either. You see, they lock us into the after prom party until seven in the morning so we won't drink and drive and make babies or something."
A soft grin spread across Derek's face. "Stay then," he mumbled, sinking into the sensation of swaying, "as long as you want. You'd better not snore."
"Please. You probably snore like a lumberjack drowning in maple syrup," Stiles said, though he kicked off his tennis shoes and stretched out a careful arm's length away on the mattress.
Derek didn't bother to say anything, he rolled closer and hooked his arm across Stiles' belly. He buried his nose in the boy's neck and remembered enough to be thankful that he'd evidently showered off that horrible cologne before he came over. Stiles squeaked, but Derek nipped him quiet and instantly fell asleep.