Stiles is seriously debating whether Scott contracted lycanthropy when tall, dark, and gorgeous surprises the hell out of them.
"What are you doing here?" the guy demands.
Stiles stares. He knows that gorgeous face. The guy's older than Stiles remembers, yeah, but there's no way he'd forget Derek Hale. Derek volunteered at the library where Stiles's mom had worked and young Derek had been the beginning of Stiles's adolescent adventures in bisexuality.
"Meeting the love of my life." Both Scott and Derek stare at him, making Stiles's grin stretch wider. He hadn't intended to blurt that out, but he can roll with it. Meeting Derek again feels like fate. Derek was Stiles's very first crush. He'd lost all hope of seeing Derek again after the fire.
Scott recovers first. He's built up a resistance to the kind of things that come out of Stiles's mouth. "I lost my inhaler."
Derek stares at Stiles for a moment longer, then tosses the lost inhaler to Scott. Derek turns to leave but pauses when Stiles shouts, "Hey, Derek?" Stiles probably looks like a maniac. He can't stop smiling. He should ask Derek how he's doing or what brought him back to Beacon Hills. "Can I get your number?"
Derek's eyebrows come together in a formidable frown. "Are you hitting on me?"
Stiles shrugs. "Obviously not very well if you have to ask. But seriously, do you want to go out sometime? Catch up?" Subtlety has never been Stiles's forte. He's genuinely curious about Derek's life after Beacon Hills.
"I don't believe this," Derek mutters as he stalks off into the woods.
There's a bounce in Stiles's step as they head back to the Jeep. Derek doesn't realize it yet, but Stiles does not give up when he has a crush.
Stiles can't believe that Scott insisted on going to Lydia's party. Well, actually, he kind of can because Scott is over the moon about Allison and he thinks one day apart is going to ruin their budding relationship, but still, Scott's a werewolf. Like, an actual, real werewolf that kinda attacked Stiles and cut up his chair, and that was before adding the heady cocktail of teenage relationship drama. This is not the day for Scott to pretend to be a social butterfly.
His plan to keep an eye on Scott lasts as long as it takes for Stiles to notice Derek loitering by the pool, like some angry, brooding lifeguard. Derek stands out. For one, he's older and this is a party full of horny teenagers. He's also not participating in any of the horny teenage mating rituals like drinking or talking or smiling.
Stiles makes a beeline for Derek. Let it be known that Stiles may be an idiot sometimes, but at least he's brave. He takes a swig of his root beer to bolster his courage and pastes on a goofy smile. "Your body is sixty-five percent water and I'm thirsty."
Derek's whole face judges him. "Really?"
Stiles shrugs. "It was worth a try. So, what's a fine-looking man like you doing at a party like this? It's definitely not for the scintillating conversation."
Derek doesn't answer. He stares past Stiles. Stiles looks around. A couple of his classmates are side-eying him, probably wondering why Stiles is talking to the hot older guy when most of the cheerleading squad had been turned away. Derek watches Scott moon over Allison and it's definitely Scott that Derek's glaring at, not sugar-sweet Allison, which definitely means something other than romance is in the air.
Stiles turns back to Derek with renewed interest. There's only one reason for Derek to suddenly find Scott so fascinating, which means Derek knows what Stiles knows. That means that Derek finding them in the Preserve was no accident. Stiles is suddenly bursting with questions, but Lydia Martin's pool party is not the place to ask them. At least, not right by the pool.
Stiles takes a step closer and drops his voice to a whisper. "Is this because of the werewolf thing?"
Stiles shouts as Derek grabs him and drags him behind a hedge. Stiles's back hits something hard, but he doesn't care enough to figure out what because Derek is right up in his face and Derek is incredibly hot when he's angry.
"I will take you out," Derek growls.
Stiles has always had an inappropriate reaction to fear. He smiles when he should be quaking. "Okay! It's a date!"
Derek blinks. He takes a step back and frowns in confusion. Stiles gets that reaction a lot. "I meant that as a threat."
Stiles pats Derek's chest then pulls his hand away before he loses it. "Aww. You're threatening me? You know I'm about as vicious as an overweight corgi, right?" Stiles gestures down his body. "I clean up nice, but under this pretty face is one-hundred forty-seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bones. Sarcasm is my only defense."
Derek turns away. The sounds he makes are animalistic. When he turns back, his face is pinched with anger. "Will you take this seriously?"
"Really?" Stiles asks. "I just figured out that werewolves exist, and you want me to be serious?"
Derek surges forward. "If you tell anyone..."
Stiles yelps because Derek's face isn't human anymore. There are fangs and claws and "...where the fuck are your eyebrows?" The glow that takes over Derek's eyes is amazing.
"That's what you focus on?"
Stiles tilts his head. He can't help staring at Derek's face. It's so strange. He wants to touch it. He should probably be at least a little freaked but all he can think is how amazingly awesome it is that there's a real werewolf right in front of him. Does that mean.... "Hey, are vampires real too? What else is out there? Chupacabras?"
Derek's face melts back to frustrated human form and Stiles gapes.
"That is so awesome."
"You're an idiot." Derek covers his face with his hand. "Do you even care that your friend is going to get himself killed?"
A chill runs through Stiles and he straightens. "Killed? What? That's a possibility? By who?"
"Hunters," Derek hisses. "They won't care that he's just a kid or that he never hurt anyone. If they find out what he is, they will kill him."
"Oh," Stiles says. "Oh. That's bad. We need to find Scott. We need to find Scott now."
They can't find Scott. Stiles sends Derek off with his spare key to the McCall house while Stiles puts on a fake smile and gives Allison a ride home, full of platitudes about how Scott totally didn't intend to ditch her. When he finally makes it to Scott's, Derek and Scott are arguing about how Scott became a werewolf.
"Knock it off!" Stiles shouts over them. "Scott, calm the fuck down." Scott drops onto his bed with a scowl. "Derek, did you turn Scott into a werewolf?"
Derek hesitates before shaking his head. "No. I can't. Only an Alpha can." That leads into Derek giving them an abbreviated version of Werewolves 101. Stiles takes notes. On his way out, he asks Derek if he still wants to take Stiles out on a date. Derek rolls his eyes and drives off in an amazing black Camaro.
Stiles counts that as progress.
The next day, Scott completely freaks out during lacrosse practice and tries to kill Stiles. Not the best day of their friendship, but Stiles considers this new werewolf Scott a work in progress. He tries to repeat some of the wisdom Derek had imparted but Scott refuses to listen. In the end, it takes a fire extinguisher to the face for Scott to snap out of it.
"Derek isn't as great as you think," Scott grouses once they're in the Jeep, heading for the McCall house.
Stiles sighs. Scott is convinced Derek is the bad guy in all of this and nothing Stiles says seems to get through to him, just because Derek is advising caution—and not doing things that will get Scott killed—instead of letting Scott do whatever he wants.
"You don't have all the facts," Stiles says.
Scott raises an eyebrow. He's got that tone that means he's really not listening to anything reasonable that comes out of Stiles's mouth. "Which are?"
There are a lot of reasons Stiles could give. Like how Derek used to help him figure out words that were above his grade-level. Or, how Derek's smile was one of the best parts of hanging around the library while his mom was working. What comes out instead is, "I love him."
Scott stares at him for a full minute of silence. "You just met him!"
"So?" That's not technically true but he doesn't expect the Derek of now to be anything like the Derek of then. Death has a way of changing people. He knows that from personal experience, but he's not about to get into that bag of worms with Scott.
"Stiles, yes!" This is what they've devolved to. Stiles can act childish with the best of them.
"Just wait, Scotty boy," Stiles says with a grin. "I'll win him over with my Stilinski charm."
Scott groans louder and sinks into his seat.
"Your friend's an idiot."
Stiles falls out of his chair with a shout. He scrambles away, panicking until he recognizes the voice as Derek. "How the hell did you get in here?"
Derek jerks his head toward the now-open window and rights Stiles's chair.
Stiles flops back onto the floor. "Doors exist for a reason."
"This was easier." Derek spins the chair so that the back is facing Stiles. "Did Scott do this?" Derek points to the slash marks that are covered by duct tape.
Stiles groans. "Yeah. He didn't believe me when I told him he was a werewolf and he needed to stay in on the full moon." They both know how that night ended.
"Tell Scott he needs to stay away from the Argents."
Stiles snorts. "Yeah. Good luck with that." He'd need a crowbar and a taser to keep Scott away from Allison.
Stiles tilts his head to look up at Derek. He's only known Allison for a few days but he can't imagine Allison as anything close to dangerous. Unless the danger is from cavities. She's almost too sweet to be real. "How so?"
Derek's face goes through a series of sadness-reluctance-anger. Stiles sobers. There's a story here, he can tell. He doubts it's a good one. "They're hunters. They killed my family."
Stiles shoots upright. "What!? But that...." The fire had been ruled an accident. He remembers. His dad had talked about the case for weeks after. He'd thought there was something more to the fire but could never prove it. "I... I'm sorry. That's horrible."
Derek shifts on his feet. He looks immensely uncomfortable. Stiles wonders if Derek's going to disappear through the window, but instead Derek takes a seat in Stiles's desk chair. "The Argents are an old hunting family. Possibly the oldest. They're supposed to have a code. They're only supposed to go after wolves who have hurt someone." Derek hesitates. He stares at his hands, shifting between human nails and claws. It's fascinating to watch. Also, a little hot, but Stiles really shouldn't be thinking like that when Derek's baring his soul. "We thought we were safe. My family was peaceful. We never hurt anyone." His eyes glow blue as he looks up at Stiles. "They trapped my family in our house and burned them alive. Even the children."
Stiles sucks in a breath. What is he supposed to say to that? This isn't the time for any of the usual platitudes. His stomach twists and he's thrown back to the months of torment while his mom wasted away into insanity. Stiles pushes his hands through his buzzed-short hair. "That... that really sucks. I mean... I... I lost my mom and that nearly destroyed me. I can't even imagine.... I'm sorry."
Neither of them says anything after that. Derek leaves through the window. Stiles watches Derek disappear into the darkness. He shuts his window but he doesn't lock it. Just in case. He's going to have nightmares tonight. He's going to dream about his mother screaming at him, scratching his face, trying to drown him in the tub. He's going to watch her step off the hospital roof over and over again, never fast enough to stop her.
Tomorrow, he's going to have a long talk with Scott. He knows it won't change a damn thing, but maybe it'll at least make Scott think twice. That's all he can hope for.
In Stiles's defense, he's still running off the adrenaline of Derek nearly dying and almost having to perform an amputation. It starts off with an innocent question about where Derek's staying, which turns into an argument about where Derek's staying. The burnt-out wreckage of Derek's childhood home is not the best place to recover from being shot.
It takes Stiles an hour to argue Derek into using the Stilinski's guest room. He'll worry about telling his dad in the morning. He gets Derek into the house, shoves a sandwich at him, and then sends him off to shower while Stiles hunts up something resembling pajamas. He steals an old pair of his dad's sweatpants and a t-shirt from the back of his closet that's two sizes too big for Stiles. He's staring at his underwear drawer trying to decide if anything he has would fit and how creepy it would be to offer Derek his underwear.
Derek taps on Stiles's door to get his attention. Stiles turns. He blames everything that happens after that on teenage hormones. Derek's obviously recovered from being shot. His skin is flush from the shower and still a little damp. His wet hair sticks up in uneven clumps. He's only wearing a towel.
"I..." Stiles can't word. He can't string two thoughts together. All of his brain-power is being used by his dick.
Derek takes a deep breath, like he's scenting the air. Is that a thing werewolves can do? Can Derek smell Stiles's arousal? Derek's eyes flash blue, which Stiles takes to mean yes. "Stiles..."
There's a strange softness in the way Derek says his name that makes Stiles bold. Stiles stumbles forward. "Derek, I..."
"I know." The hunger in Derek's voice is unmistakable.
They barely know each other. Derek is older, and Stiles is too young. Derek just got shot a few hours ago. They absolutely should not be doing anything. His dad will be home in a few hours.
"I just..." Stiles drops to his knees in front of Derek. "Tell me. Tell me if you don't want... I want... Let me..."
Derek's eyes glow. Blunt nails scrape over Stiles's scalp, gently pulling Stiles closer. The towel falls to the floor. Stiles moans embarrassingly loud. Derek's dick is large and uncut. It feels like gravity pulling Stiles toward it. He takes Derek in his mouth and groans as Derek's dick fills his mouth. Its weight is heavy on his tongue and he closes his eyes. He's never sucked a guy off but he's fantasized about it so many times. He's watched videos. He's read tips from every source he could find. This feels better than anything he's imagined.
Stiles can't take much at first, but he tries. Derek's hand stays on the back of his head, gently guiding him into a smooth rhythm. Stiles is already hard, and they've only just started. He knows he has an oral fixation. His parents used to yell at him all the time for sticking things in his mouth and he feels bad thinking that all of that led to this moment. Derek's breath turns into short, sharp gasps. His fingers dig into Stiles's scalp at just the right side of painful. Stiles could do this forever. He was born to take Derek's dick.
It doesn't last. Derek bites back a howl as he comes into Stiles's mouth. Stiles almost chokes on it. He swallows quickly, greedily sucking down everything he can get. It tastes strange and bitter, but the sounds Derek makes as Stiles licks the last drops of come from his dick make the odd taste more than worth it.
Derek hauls Stiles up by his shirt. The door slams shut as Stiles is pressed up against it. Derek's mouth is hot and insistent, covering Stiles's and taking over. Stiles melts against the wood. His brain is gone, totally left the building. Derek's fingers unfasten Stiles's jeans and then Stiles is writhing into Derek's grip as Derek jerks him off. It's over embarrassingly fast.
When they finally part, Derek sighs and meets Stiles forehead-to-forehead. "We shouldn't have done that," Derek says. He sounds apologetic but there isn't a trace of regret.
Stiles licks his lips. He can still taste Derek's seed on his tongue. "Did you like it?"
Derek stares at him. He takes a long time to answer, but when he does, Stiles slumps with relief. "Yeah."
He's grinning like an idiot and he can't help it. "Me too."
He's afraid to touch Derek, like he hasn't earned that right yet. Surely having a dick in his mouth counts for something? His fingers tentatively brush Derek's arm where the bullet wound had been. The skin is smooth. It's warm to the touch. Stiles runs his fingers down Derek's biceps. He's never been this close to someone before, not in this way.
He could get used to this.
Derek slowly pulls away. "We can't. You're too young."
Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck because there's no way he's letting Derek go now. Not ever. "And you're a werewolf." Stiles leans in closer. "If age is an issue for you, then let's dial it back. Forget all about this. We could do dinner and a movie? Some nice PG handholding? Chaste kisses where no one can see? I know how to keep secrets."
Derek shakes his head, but he doesn't pull away again. "You shouldn't have to lie because of me."
Stiles snorts and buries his laughter in Derek's amazing, broad chest. "Hate to tell you, but lying to my dad was a thing long before you came along. Besides, what's one more thing along with 'my best friend is a werewolf?'"
When Stiles looks up, there's a hint of a smile on Derek's face. "Maybe."
Stiles grins. "I can work with maybe."