Teen Wolf/Mass Effect
(possibly a little heavy on the Mass Effect so -> SPOILER WARNING!)
Stiles ducked behind a table in one of the side lounges while another squad of Cerberus commandos trooped through the hallway. His stomach dipped as he heard gunfire echo from the upper levels. If he hadn't skipped his morning lessons to go see the latest Blasto movie with Scott, he wouldn't be late picking up his father's low-calorie lunch, and he'd be up in C-SEC surrounded by well trained, heavily armed Citadel Security. And he’d know that his dad was okay.
As it was, he was alone and unarmed when the terrorists attacked. Everyone else had suddenly lost any shred of common sense they’d ever had, panicked, and run straight into the open and hostile arms of Cerberus. He held his breath for a count of ten, and when he didn't hear anything, stood up to look for an active console or a radio or something. Anything that would let him get word to his dad.
A hand grabbed his upper arm.
He shrieked and wrenched himself away. Stiles twisted and instinctively lashed out with his telekinesis and followed with a cryo blast from his omni-tool.
The armored man flew backwards, and hit the wall groaning as frost spiderwebbed across his gear. His visor blinked yellow in the darkened room before fritzing out, and Stiles called his power up again, holding it in the palms of his hands, ready to strike again. The blue light cast dim shadows across the room, making it hard for Stiles to make out the logo on the armor, but he’d assume enemy until convinced otherwise.
"Who the ... Derek!" Stiles said, yelping as he shook the power away and it burned all the way up his arm. "Derek, what are you doing here?"
Derek was his father's partner in C-SEC. They patrolled the most dangerous wards together. He'd even moved in with them once the refugees started showing up, giving his apartment to a grieving family of turians from Palaven. It was no coincidence that Stiles' number of cold showers had escalated sharply. Derek of the brooding eyes, wide shoulders, and aloof indifference made heads turn all over the Citadel.
"Looking for you, you little," Derek broke off, shivering violently as his teeth chattered together. He brushed his fists over his chest piece, trying to get rid of the ice inching up the metal. After a second, he looked up at Stiles, wide-eyed, "You're a biotic."
"Y-yeah," Stiles flinched, crossing his arms in front of his chest and clutching at his hoodie. "About that-"
"Not a very good one. You didn’t even throw me that hard," Derek continued, finally standing up straight and shaking off the last of Stiles' blast. "C'mon, your dad's going crazy trying to find you. I had to fight through three patrols of Cerberus to get here. Why didn't you tell anyone about your gift? Go get training?"
"I wanted to stay here with Dad," Stiles said, tucking his chin down into his chest. "I didn't want anyone to take me away. He needs me. I've been learning and practicing as much as I could."
Derek reached up to his visor and tapped a pattern until it rebooted. He studied Stiles carefully, and cocked his head. "That's why you've been hanging around Lydia and those kids from the Grissom Academy," he said, a grin tipping up one side of his mouth. "I thought you were just being more creepy than usual."
"Wow, thanks for that," Stiles sneered. The group from the biotics school had shown up after Cerberus had tried to kidnap them. Lydia had immediately appropriated one of C-SEC’s work-out rooms to keep up their training. Once Stiles found out, he found any excuse to hang around and watch them. "I mean, she's hot and all with the shaved head, tattoos, and that ribbon masquerading as appropriate outerwear, but she's also scary as hell and kinda not my preferred gender. I was trying to pick up a few tips."
"Hmm," Derek rumbled deep in his throat. He took a step toward Stiles, but his head jerked up and he stared out the door. Faster than light, he picked Stiles up and swung him into the corner, pressing him into the wall and covering him with his own body.
Stiles’ brain shut down, Derek was so close, his stubble scraped across Stiles' skin and Stiles felt the lingering chill like a spike through his nerves. He heard more boots pounding a staccato rhythm outside, and curled his hands at Derek's waist. "Please," he said, as quiet as he could above their breathing. "Please don't tell anyone."
"Stiles," Derek started, and then cleared his throat. "Stiles, you can say no at any time."
Kissing. There was so much kissing, and it was way more amazing than the dreams that woke him up in the middle of the night and forced him to do his laundry twice as much as usual. His knees shook and bent until his head angled back sharply, letting Derek maul his mouth.
“Okay, that was unexpected,” Stiles said, blinking slowly once Derek let him up for air. “My dad’s going to kill you.”
Derek grinned and shrugged, a difficult motion to achieve in the heavy inflexible armor. “Maybe he’ll give me a five second head start after I get you back to him,” he said, dipping to trail kisses from the tip of Stiles’ nose up to his forehead before pulling him into Derek’s body.
“I might be convinced to put in a good word for you,” Stiles mumbled, burrowing his face against Derek’s neck.
Just then, a pony-tailed, sword-wielding samurai flashed past, followed closely by a human wearing N7 armor, and a turian. Behind them limped a drell leaking a lot of blood, and finally a salarian dalatrass scuttled down the hallway, bringing up the rear.
Hugging Derek was nice, but Stiles couldn't help craning his neck around to see where they were going. He cleared his throat and said, "Maybe we should follow-"