Melissa McCall looks around at the absolute chaos surrounding her. She rubs her temple and checks her watch. Only 9pm. She’s been on shift for twelve hours already. Just another three to go before her replacement arrives.
Saying that Beacon Hills accident and emergency department was stretched to the limits tonight would be grossly under exaggerating. She can hear the automatic doors at the entrance “snick” open and closed relentlessly and she squints to see down the corridor. She cringes as she sees another three people come through the door and approach the reception area.
She checks the chart of people waiting to be seen and she blinks sleepily at it.
So far tonight, waiting to be seen in triage, she has seven people on her list. She has a kid with a possible broken elbow that fell off his bike, a woman who had twisted her ankle while dismounting her horse, a family of four that were currently being sick into cardboard bedpans after eating at very suspect seafood restaurant and a workman who had snagged his arm on a piece of glass.
The newcomers come closer and Melissa recognises her son Deputy Scott McCall, his partner Deputy Stiles Stillinski and sandwiched between them is a baby faced, but dangerous looking guy in handcuffs.
It’s not just the handcuffs that make her shudder, it’s the fact that the guy licks his lips at her. He’s got gang tattoos that she recognises, most notably an insignia on his face that indicates he’s killed someone for the pleasure of being initiated.
She hates treating gang members.
The Sheriffs’ department has recently made national news for taking out some key members of a drug and trafficking gang that had operated across four states. The FBI had even been involved and now Beacon Hills was left mopping up the stragglers from the local arm of the gang.
Sheriff Stillinski had told her over dinner that it had been sheer luck. What started as an apparently simple marijuana growing case that Parish had worked on, led to one of the biggest drug busts in Beacon Hills history.
Coming to Beacon Hills had been the worst branching out decision that the gang could have made. Parish made one arrest and suddenly the guy had started flipping on his crew.
The guy that the boys have brought in tonight is taller than Scott but shorter than Stiles and he’s wider than Stiles but less broad than Scott.
Melissa can’t see anything visible wrong with him but of course that’s not her luck.
“Hey boys. What brings you down here?” She says, approaching them, game face on.
“Hey. We arrested Jacky here and on the way to the station he’s suddenly complaining of chest pains,” Stiles rolls his eyes and keeps a tight grip on the mans arm.
“It’s police brutality is what it is,” Jack pipes up.
“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to write up your complaint in prison, considering what we found you in possession of. I’m going to guess you’ll have around oh say 10-15 years to draft it up,” Scott says cheerily.
Melissa marvels at how her son rarely lets anything put him in a bad mood. She’s so proud of him. Stiles too. At twenty two years of age, they were the youngest Deputies on the force. Neither boys had it easy growing up with Stiles losing his Mom so young and Scott’s Dad choosing to be absent.
Oh well, between her and John they’d somehow made up the gaps and both boys had turned out pretty damned fine, even if she does say so herself.
“Put him in exam room two. I can’t promise how quick I’ll be because there’s a kid here and a man with an open wound that will have to take priority. Give me about 20 minutes,” Stiles starts to pull him toward the exam room.
Melissa waits until Jacks’ out of earshot and in the room. Scott hangs back. As soon as Jacks’ out of sight Scott gives her a big hug.
“Hi Mom. You ok? You look super tired.” Scott says frowning.
“Just what every woman wants to hear. I’m fine. It’s just been a really long day. If Jack actually says he feels any worse, or complains of any numbness, call me straight away,” She instructs and Scott nods and heads into the room with Stiles, closing the door behind him.
Melissa looks up hearing the “snick” of the doors again and she’s ashamed to say how her entire body sags in relief when she sees it’s her replacement Nurse for the evening. She really hopes he’s in the mood to start his shift early.
He walks up to the reception desk and throws his backpack and jacket into the cabinet with a lock. He spots Melissa and makes his way to her, straightening his dark purple scrubs. He runs his hands over his stubble as if to check it’s neat.
She leans up and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.
“Derek, you are literally my guardian angel. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you tonight,” she grins at him.
“I thought you might want some help, I know you were pulling a double today,” Derek shrugs, smiling softly at her.
He’s always had a soft spot for Mrs. McCall. He thinks it might be because she was the first ever person who didn’t laugh at him when he’d told them he wanted to be a Nurse when he grew up.
He will never forget that day when he met her, when he’d had to sit here at this very A and E department with his Teacher when he was eight years old. He’d fallen off a climbing frame in school, bashing his head.
There hadn’t been a mark on him, of course, but the school had insisted he’d get checked out. Melissa had been so kind to him that day and she’d given him a Pokemon sticker.
He still has it stuck to the front of his copy of Witches, by Roald Dahl. Even if it has a singed back cover, it’s one of his most treasured possessions.
He takes the chart off Melissa.
“You got the kid and the guy with the stitches? Who’s next?” Derek says to her.
She nods toward exam room two.
“Scott and Stiles have a guy they arrested in there complaining of chest pain. Not sure it’s genuine but we can’t take that risk. He’s in cuffs,” She points, already making her way back to exam room one where the guy with the cut on his arm is waiting to be stitched.
Derek nods at her. They work fluidly together now, they’ve been doing this for nearly a year since Derek moved back to Beacon Hills. After completing his Degree in nursing in California state he practiced there for a while, Beacon Hills holding too many bad memories for him. But then, he came to realise, California held some too. At least Beacon Hills had his Sisters.
He shudders as he recalls California. He’d moved away the year after the fire when he was barely eighteen, trying his hardest to stick with his plan to study to become be a Nurse, but he spent his first year year just drinking himself into the ground.
He’d dropped out of School and worked in a bar, couch surfed with people he could barely call friends and partied very hard, trying to self destruct. He wanted to drink the guilt away and the pit just got deeper and deeper. It took a lot of booze.
It was only when Laura and Cora finally found out where he was and came out to see him that something changed. Laura literally wouldn’t leave California until he stopped drinking and finally he turned a corner. No matter how many times Laura told him it wasn’t his fault, he’ll blame himself until his last breath.
They lost everyone because of him.
Laura had immediately rented him an apartment and slept on his couch for six months straight when she found him. Eventually, it was easier to do what Laura wanted than to argue with her.
For some reason, the more time passed, the more perspective he got on it. The crushing ache in his chest lessened and with Laura’s support (loosely translated as bossiness) and Coras unwavering love, he went back to school and finished his Degree.
It’s still painful to think about the fire but it was eight long, healing years ago now. It’s a different pain now, one he’s mostly at peace with. Mostly.
Derek steels himself before opening the door to the exam room and takes a deep breath because he knows Stiles Stillinski is in there.
The kid, well he can’t really call him that anymore, reminds him of that awful night so strongly.
Derek had sat in the Sheriffs’ station sobbing his heart out, a young boy of just seventeen, who’d just watched his first love burn his home to the ground, with most of his family still inside.
Sheriff Stillinski had attended the fire and he’d pulled Derek away, wrapping him in his coat and bringing him back to the Sheriffs station.
Stiles had been there, in his Pyjamas, because the Sheriff had obviously come straight from home. Derek knew that the Sheriffs’ wife had died many years before and even through his grief he remembers feeling sorry for the man and his kid.
Stiles would have been no more than fourteen then, three years below Derek at School. Derek remembers vividly, the only real clear thing about that night, as he’d sobbed into his hands, was Stiles taking a seat on the bench right next to him.
Derek didn’t even know the kid’s name at the time, but Stiles had shifted in close to him, tucked himself into his side, never doubting his welcome and he’d put his arm awkwardly round Dereks’ shoulders as he’d cried.
The touch had been what kept Derek alive that night and he’d sobbed for hours, Stiles patting his back the entire time until his cries had subsided to gut wrenching shudders.
Stiles had never said so much as a word.
Not even when Laura ran into the station with the morning light and had grabbed Derek into a bone crushing hug.
Stiles had just walked away from him with a final squeeze to his shoulder. Derek had never been able to explain to him how much Stiles’ comfort had meant to him that night. He’d never be able to put it into words.
Unknowingly, little fourteen year old Stiles had stopped him from losing himself, he’d been on the edge of breaking. Derek had wanted to run off, dig a hole and lay in it until he wasn’t here any more. But with Stiles’ comforting hands on him, he’d stayed.
Dereks’ only seen Stiles a handful of times in the past year since he’s moved back, avoiding him as much as possible and each time, it’s still like a punch to the gut.
The kid saved him.
Derek breathes out, drags himself from his memory and opens the door to the exam room.
Scott’s sitting on a chair, casually leaning back, floppy brown hair in his eyes. He reminds Derek of Melissa, he’s always so cheery and he has kind eyes.
There’s a guy cuffed to the bed frame and he looks like he’s seen a few wild nights himself. He’s trying to rub his chest with his chin.
Stiles is standing with his hands on his hips by the door and he has to shift to let Derek into the small room.
Derek can’t help but drag his eyes over him and he actually struggles to associate him with the lanky kid of fourteen he knew. He looks amazing.
Stiles is tall now. He’s easily as tall as Derek and he’s filling his Deputy uniform very well, Derek can see the sleeves are tight on his arms. Stiles’ shoulders are broad and he’s still slim, he just looks like it’s tight muscle now. He’s let his brown hair grow out and Derek wants to tell him it suits him, maybe touch it, but then he thinks that might be a little weird.
Derek meets his eyes and they are the one thing that haven’t changed a bit. They’re golden brown, molten whisky and he’s got a stare that’s so intense it makes Derek almost want to look away.
The way Stiles looks at him makes Derek feel like he’s seeing into his very soul. It always does.
Dereks’ finding that every time he see’s him, he’s finding it harder and harder to deny his feelings and that just can’t happen. For Stiles’ sake, he can’t ever know.
It seemed that Stiles’ silence on their first meeting had only been a one off because in Dereks’ more recent experience, he doesn’t shut up.
“Derek! It’s you! Hey, how are good? I mean, how good are you? I mean, how’s it going?” Stiles rambles, clapping him on the shoulder.
One thing’s never changed. Stiles is still sure of his welcome when it comes to touching Derek.
Scott facepalms dramatically and Derek spares a second to wonder what that’s all about.
Derek glares at Stiles’ hand on his shoulder for good measure, pretending it bothers him. He has a surly reputation to uphold. He likes to keep people at a distance for a reason and Stiles is more important than anyone.
Stiles removes his hand quickly.
“Sorry dude. Anyway...” Stiles shifts from foot to foot, looking awkward.
“Don’t call me dude. What’s your name?” Derek addresses the patient and drags his eyes away from Stiles.
Best get down to business.
He has to try very hard to ignore the hurt look in Stiles’ eyes.
“Jack,” Jack shrugs, “I’m dying.”
“Well Jack, not sure about that but let’s take a look,” Derek gestures for Scott to move back a little.
Scott looks like he’s unhappy about it but he does give them a bit of space, joining Stiles by the door.
Derek does all the preliminary tests but when it comes to testing the feeling in Jacks arms, the handcuffs are definitely in the way.
“Scott, can you take off the cuffs?” Derek asks him.
Jack perks up.
“No can do Barny-Magoo. Jacky here has a rap sheet a mile long and it includes grievous bodily harm. Plus that face tat probably means he’s done worse, he just didn’t get caught for it. The handcuffs are a must,” Stiles shrugs, ignoring the fact he’d asked Scott.
“It’s hard to examine him properly with them on, you can keep your taser out if you need to but I really need to get a monitor on him and test his arms. Scott?” Derek says matter of fact.
“Der, I don’t think it’s the best idea,” Stiles chips in and Derek glares at him, anticipating an argument.
Scott goes toward Derek with the keys.
They’re spared from having to make the decision because Jack slumps in the bed, groaning and shouting.
“My arm, oh god, my arms gone numb and tingly, please, oh god man, don’t let me die,” he wails.
“Fuck,” Stiles says but moves to help Derek.
As soon as the cuffs are off, Derek lays Jack out on his back but he’s thrashing holding onto his now free arm.
“Get Melissa,” Derek barks at Scott who doesn’t question him.
As soon as Scott’s out of the room, Jack proceeds to make his recovery.
Stiles seems to realise their mistake just as Jack gets his feet off the bed and ploughs them into Dereks’ stomach, sending him flying across the room.
Stiles scrabbles for his taser but Jack’s up on his feet and he knocks it out of Stiles’ hands. Jack jumps back out of reach and grabs a picture off a shelf. He smashes it against the bed frame and grabs a piece of the broken glass, holding it out in front of him.
Jack feels behind him on the bed and grabs a piece of the protective bed tissue and wraps the glass in it, eyes never leaving Stiles. He’s probably done this before.
Derek stands up growling. He’s landed just behind Stiles who has his gun out.
“Easy Jack,” Stiles says and his voice is commanding but soft.
“Don’t move. Fuck you guys,” he waves the glass, “I’m not going to jail for 15 years. You ain’t gonna do me like that.” His arm appears to be completely fine, Derek notices.
“Jack...” Derek tries, “I’m not sure you want to add assaulting a Sheriffs deputy to your sentence do you?”
Jack waves the glass at them.
Stiles really doesn’t want to shoot him, but if it comes down to it he knows he’ll have to.
The next few seconds are tense, Derek can see the sweat beading on Jacks’ face as if he’s deciding how this is going to go.
Derek hears footsteps and he turns and watches in horror as Scott pushes the door open hurriedly, Melissa behind him, rushing to Jacks’ aid.
The door bangs into Stiles’ back and Stiles drops the gun.
Dereks watches in a slow motion terror as Stiles is propelled toward Jack and the glass.
Jack lunges violently forward, seeing his chance and Derek growls seeing red and before he even realises he’s even moved, he’s between them.
He can’t lose him. Not Stiles as well.
Jack smacks into Derek head on and Derek takes his weight, throwing him back down on the bed.
Stiles and Scott and are on him and cuffing him in seconds, Scott pulling him out of the door and back to the police car. Melissa follows them but Stiles stays.
Derek calms down enough to focus, red receding from his vision.
Stiles is alone in the exam room with him and he realises he’s speaking to him.
“Derek, oh shit, he got you bad,” Stiles is trying to make him sit down, gesturing at Dereks stomach.
Derek looks down at his scrubs and sees the piece of glass sticking out from his stomach. Jack had got him. With the adrenaline, the threat to Stiles, he hadn’t even felt it.
Stiles starts tugging at the hem of his scrubs shirt trying to tug it off frantically.
Derek, still standing pulls it up to see the damage. Stiles is standing absurdly close to him and Derek is going to blame the fact that Stiles has his hands on his naked skin, for what he does next.
Without even thinking, Derek just grabs the end of the glass and pulls it out with a wet pop and a snarl.
“NO! Don’t pull it out, you’re not supposed to...” Stiles is cut off, pressing his hand to the gash that ebbs with blood, because under his fingers, with the glass removed, his skin knits together, healed.
Derek can’t believe he’s been so stupid. Laura is going to kill him. Humans absolutely can’t know about them, ever. That’s his one rule that they all agreed on after the fire and for good reason.
Derek freezes, whole body tense under Stiles’ still moving fingers, like a fox caught in headlights.
Stiles strokes over the healed skin once more, his hand still red with Dereks’ blood. His mouth is hanging open and he meets Dereks’ eyes.
Derek tugs down his scrubs quickly and takes a step back from him.
Derek knows his eyes are glowing red again but he’s frozen, helpless.
He frantically thinks of how he can explain this away to Stiles. Jack just nicked him with the glass maybe? He heals fast? His eyes are a trick of the light?
“You fucker,” Stiles breathes, sounding fascinated.
Derek takes another step back, afraid of him. It turned out very badly when someone discovered Dereks’ secret before.
“I can explain...” Derek tries, voice rough.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a goddam werewolf?” Stiles accuses, eyes wide, pointing a finger at him.
Now it’s Dereks’ turn for his mouth to drop open in shock.
He was prepared for fear and anger. So Derek really doesn’t know to deal with the scent of excitement and curiosity coming off Stiles.
When Stiles Stillinski first clapped eyes on Derek Hale he’d been just twelve years old, shiny new to High School. Derek was fifteen at the time and Stiles had gone to a Lacrosse game at Beacon Hills with his Dad and Scott. They were first years and would be trying out for the team in the next few years, so Stiles being Stiles, wanted to do his research.
Derek had played in defence, but he would also switch to attack and Stiles had been mesmerised. He’d watched him check player after player, all dark hair and controlled fury and Stiles had idolised him.
He talked about him all the way home to his Dad, listing all the ways he was amazing. His Dad had started giving him some knowing looks as the conversation went on well into the evening.
Stiles had plucked up the courage in School the next day at lunch to ask Derek for some Lacrosse tips. He’d awkwardly shuffled from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his red hoody, which matched his blotchy red face.
“I can’t right now kid, I’m a bit busy. Maybe another time?” Derek had said, not unkindly and had ruffled his hair and went back to talking with his friends.
Stiles had been crushed, but he and Scott had practiced relentlessly the next two whole years, Stiles fuelled by the need to impress Derek Hale.
He was pretty sure the guy didn’t even know he existed.
Stiles had fallen deep in unrequited love with Lydia around the age of fourteen and his fascination with Derek Hale became a distant memory. He became someone he just passed occasionally around the halls of School.
Stiles still went to his lacrosse games though, dragging Scott, who would roll his eyes dramatically every time Stiles screamed when Derek scored.
The last Lacrosse game of Dereks’ that Stiles had ever gone to, he’d seen a grown up lady shouting and clapping every time Derek scored too. He remembers the feeling of despair when the game ended and he saw Derek getting into her car at the end of it.
He remembers thinking he should probably tell his Dad because she was a grown up and Derek wasn’t. But Derek always seemed like a grown up too, so maybe he knew what he was doing.
Stiles had put it at the back of his mind when Scott and Lydia found him just standing there in the car park and they’d all gone out for Pizza.
Stiles will never forget that night, because it was the night that he finally got to be near Derek Hale.
His Dad had woken him up around 3am and Stiles remembers seeing his Dad’s frantic eyes and knowing something terrible had happened. Stiles shoved his sneakers on and his warm jacket over his pyjamas and his Dad had driven out to the Hale house.
Stiles’ chest had restricted in panic when he realised where they were headed. He’d looked at his Dad in the car, questions in his eyes, but his Dad was gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead.
Not Derek... please God not Derek.
Stiles remembers the smoke and flames peeking over the trees and as they’d turned up the driveway, seeing the house engulfed in flames Stiles’ stomach had dropped. There were already fire crews and police cars there and as his Dad pulled up, Stiles could see Derek kneeling in the dirt, staring at a body. He saw Parish, one of his Dad’s newest deputies carrying another body out of the flames.
Stiles had tried to get out of the car before his Dad had even stopped it.
Stiles’ Dad had literally pulled him out of the car when he finally did stop and shouted at Parish to take Stiles to the station.
Stiles remembers fighting against his Dad and only stopping when the Sheriff leaned down and whispered,
“He’s going to need someone there because I’ll be bringing him back...”
And Stiles had gone willingly.
He hadn’t had to wait long after Parish dropped him off and headed back out, leaving him with the receptionist.
Derek and his Dad had come through the station doors moments after. Derek had his Dad’s jacket wrapped around his shoulders and his Dad had made him sit down on a bench.
“Derek, I’m going to call your sister but I know she’s out of state at College. It might take her a little while to get here. Just wait here for me son,” The Sheriff had said and patted Derek’s shoulder.
Stiles had seen his Dad’s face glistening in the moonlight where he’d clearly been crying, a smudge of soot on his cheek.
Stiles had been quietly waiting in his Dad’s office but when he saw Derek put his head in his hands and start to wail, he couldn’t take it.
He walked over to him, feeling awkward but knowing his feelings didn’t matter right now.
Dereks’ hands and face were black with soot and the only clean part of his face was where his tear tracks were.
Stiles heart had broken with Derek that night.
He put his arm around Derek, like Scott had done for him the night his Mom had died and he patted and stroked Dereks’ back until his hand was numb and even then, he kept going.
He stopped only to borrow a packet of wet wipes from Sandy the receptionist who’d looked on sadly as Stiles had wiped Dereks’ hands and face clean of soot.
Derek hadn’t moved, just sobbed silently, not meeting his eyes.
Stiles had wanted to help him, protect him and keep him safe that night. Always.
As fate would have it, it turned out to be nearly seven years after that when Stiles finally saw Derek again.
Stiles’ Dad had come over to his apartment for dinner one evening about a year ago and Stiles just knew he was sitting on some information by the way he kept smiling at him.
“Dad, just spit it out. If this is about me arresting Mr. Papulous for pissing against the police car again, I don’t care if it’s a load of extra paperwork, it can’t go on,” Stiles says.
“Don’t be daft son, I agree with you on that one... Parish has been letting him get away with it for years, he plays the old man card with him a little too well. He’s only a year older than me!” Sheriff Stillinski grins.
“What is it then?” Stiles sighs and puts his fork down.
“Nothing... nothing much... just... I don’t know if Scott told you, but I had dinner with Melissa again last night,” his Dad blushes, the Stillinski men’s signature.
“Yes, he did tell me. You know I’m cool with that. I love Mrs. McCall. She’s awesome. You deserve to be happy. You both do,” Stiles offers, shrugging.
“Well yes, thanks for your blessing son, it’s nice to have it. Even though I’m a grown man and even though I wasn’t asking for your approval, it does mean a lot,” his Dad chuckles, “What I’m trying to say, is she told me the Hale kid’s back...”
“Cora? Yeah I know, she came back a while ago, I saw Laura grocery shopping a few weeks back and she said Cora’s finished her Degree abroad and she was moving back. She said something about Cora getting a job as a Teaching assistant with her at Laura’s School?” Stiles says, already knowing his Dad’s old news.
Actually, Stiles and Cora keep in touch. She’d been in Stiles’ year in school and although they never had much in common, for some reason she made an effort to drop him a message on Facebook once in a blue moon just to update him on her and Laura’s situation.
She never mentioned Derek though. Ever.
She would just ignore him every time he asked about him.
His Dad looks at him slyly.
“Not that Hale kid. The other one,” his Dad puts his own fork down.
Stiles is silent while he processes what his Dad means. When he comes to the conclusion it’s Derek Hale that’s back in town he tamps down his excitement and curiosity, not wanting to be obvious to his Pops.
“Oh...” Stiles says and ignores his flaming face, picking up his fork and stabbing at his mashed potatoes.
“Yeah kid, that’s what I thought,” his Dad is still staring it him, grinning.
“Shut up Dad,” Stiles says into his food.
“Just thought you might like to know... he’s a Nurse you know? He starts at the hospital on Monday,” his Dad offers.
“Good to know...” Stiles says nonchalantly and he most certainly does not stay up all night thinking of how he can fake bump into Derek Hale the following week.
The fact that Derek had shunned every friendly attempt Stiles had made to talk to him over the past year did nothing to deter Stiles’ offers of friendship.
Derek looked incredible to him, was special to him and Stiles was forced to realise that maybe he was a tiny bit in love with Derek. Probably.
Probably always had been.
Every time Stiles saw him he’d pat him on the back, try to make him feel welcome, ask him to come for beers with him and Scott.
Every single time Derek would cut the conversation off awkwardly and make an excuse to get away.
Stiles stayed positive, knowing the offer was as important as Derek ever taking him up on it. The guy had been through a really rough time and Stiles tried to make sure that Derek would never feel like Stiles wanted anything from him.
Never wanted him to be anything he wasn’t, for him.
Stiles had only ever wanted to make sure Derek was safe and looked after and included, so when Stiles saw the piece of jagged glass sticking out of Dereks stomach at the hospital, his heart felt like it stopped.
Derek didn’t deserve any more pain and Stiles was hit with a bizarre feeling that he wouldn’t be able to take it if anything actually happened to Derek.
So it was like an out of body experience for him when he approached Derek and started pulling at his scrubs, trying to see where the glass had entered.
When Derek had pulled the glass out, Stiles didn’t need to be a Doctor or Nurse to know it was a mistake.
When the blood ebbed thickly over Stiles’ hand and Derek had growled, he thought he was going to have to watch Derek bleed out in front of him.
But then, miraculously, Dereks’ skin knitted back together flawlessly under his palm and when Stiles had met Dereks’ eyes in shock, they weren’t their usual stormy mix of hazel and grey, they were burning red,
All of a sudden, it was like a puzzle piece in Stiles’ brain clicked into place.
All the things he’d watched Scott experience when he was first bitten, they applied to Derek too. He can’t believe he hadn’t picked up on it sooner, how could he have been so blind?
The way Derek played Lacrosse was Werewolf all over. Dereks’ reluctance to make friends with them, he was obviously protecting himself and his family. The way Scott naturally does whatever Derek asks him to do, Derek was obviously higher ranking.
Scott had even once told him Derek smelled kind of “funny”. Stiles only ever thought Derek smelled fantastic, so they’d had a lengthy argument about that one.
They’re going to really have to work on identifying other Werewolves with Scott after this little revelation.
Dereks’ still staring at Stiles like he’s a mythical creature (ironically) and Stiles is still waiting on his answer to why Derek didn’t tell him, even though he thinks he might already know.
“Stiles... not here, please,” Derek gravelly voice, full of panic stops Stiles in his tracks.
“Ok... yeah... I mean... you know Scott’s... you know. That’s how I know. And obviously the red eyes and rapidly healing skin,” Stiles offers.
That does surprise Derek. He’s so used to making a quick exit to get away from Stiles, Scott’s usually in the same vicinity. If Derek thinks about it, it makes sense, because hasn’t really got close enough to Scott to smell him properly.
“I’ll meet you when my shift’s over. I’ll try to get Sanjay, the other nurse, to cover me so I can skip out early. He owes me a favour from last week. I can’t let Melissa stay any longer so... can you wait?” Derek asks him and Stiles thinks he sounds kind of desperate.
“Sure... I’ll take Jack back to the station with Scott. Meet me at my apartment if you like? Here’s the Address, doesn’t matter what time it is,” Stiles scribbles it down on his notepad and hands it to Derek.
“I’ll be there,” Derek says quietly, fingers brushing Stiles’ when he takes the paper.
His touch is like electricity and Derek has to force himself not to grab him and pull him close.
Stiles surprises him again by taking Dereks’ hand and placing it above his heart.
Derek can feel it beating loudly, pulsing under his palm and he can hear it too.
“But just so you know, even if you don’t come and I really hope you do... I promise I won’t tell anyone. Not even Scott if you don’t want me to...” Stiles says and Derek doesn’t detect a lie from him, his heartbeat remains steady.
Derek nods and as Stiles walks away, he can’t help but follow him to the doors. He pulls on a spare scrub top as he goes, to cover the destroyed one.
He watches Stiles go to where Scott’s waiting in the police cruiser and Derek gets this insane urge to follow him outside.
Stiles give him a big, dopey grin and a little wave and Derek can’t help but smile back, something in his chest loosening. Something that feels a lot like hope.
Derek really doesn’t want to let him out of his sight.
When Melissa comes up to him and puts an arm around his shoulders, Derek faces her and he wonders if he looks as lost as he feels.
“I like him...” he offers quietly.
“Oh sweetie,” Melissa says, giving him a little squeeze and a smile, “Don’t look so surprised. That boy’s adored you since he was twelve years old, I’m shocked it took you so long to notice.”
Derek calls Sanjay and manages to get away from the hospital around 3am. He’s finished seeing all of his patients by then, including the food poisoning family who were all being looked after on a ward, drips and all. They’d be just fine.
He goes home to his loft and takes a shower and trims his stubble back. He calls Laura while he’s in the bathroom.
“Hey,” he says, phone in one hand, toothbrush in the other.
“Hey yourself. I was waiting for you to call, I could feel your tension even from out at the house,” Laura says.
She’d renovated the place a few years back with Cora and they live there permanently now. It’s beautiful, nothing like the old house and Derek loves spending time there.
Until the night time. It’s too quiet in the woods. That’s why he lives in a loft in town, surrounded by noise. He prefers it that way.
“Something happened,” he spits toothpaste into the sink between his words.
“I figured. Tell me,” Laura says.
And so he does.
He relays the events of the evening, including Stiles finding out about him being a Werewolf and he waits for the accusation, the anger, that he’s once again put their family in danger.
He doesn’t quite get what he’s expecting.
“Der, it’s Cora, Laura’s got you on speaker,” Cora calls.
“Great,” he grouches.
“I like the Stillinski kid,” She says and Derek is stunned. Cora hates everyone. Literally.
“Right...” Derek says, waiting for the punchline.
“I do too, for what it’s worth,” Laura adds.
“But... but he knows about us,” Derek says, baffled.
“So? Der, you can’t live your entire life pretending this whole side of you doesn’t exist,” Laura says.
“But... we said no humans, because of what happened...” Derek starts.
“No, we said no humans we didn’t trust... Stiles isn’t Kate, Derek. He’s the fucking opposite actually,” Derek winces at her name coming out of Coras mouth. Trust her to be the blunt one.
“I thought he knew about us already to be honest with you,” Laura muses casually, like this isn’t the biggest thing to happen to Derek in years.
He can’t believe the way this conversation is going.
“What? Why would you even think that?” He asks Laura incredulously.
“Well the Sheriff’s known for years...” He can almost hear Laura’s shrug.
“Excuse me?!” He’s not proud of how high his voice goes.
“Well yeah, he was there that night wasn’t he? He picked me up from the station and took me to the house when I insisted. I was only nineteen Der, I wasn’t in control. I kept shifting in the car on the way to you. He was surprised, but totally cool about it. I remember he gave me a hug and told me that it explained a lot of things for him. He was the one who arrested her you know. All because I told him I smelled her on the gasoline can. He trusted me. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak out,” He can hear Laura’s wet laugh.
“Well I’m freaking out now!” He says, but he’s surprised that’s actually a lie.
“Go see Stiles bro... he’s a really good guy. The kid’s been stuck on you since School,” Cora adds.
“Derek, You deserve to be happy. I know you like him. I saw you staring at Stiles’ ass and pining in his general direction when we saw him and his Dad at the diner a few weeks back,” Laura says smugly.
“I most certainly did not pine,” Derek says indignant, realising his mistake and cringing.
“Ah ha, I knew it,” Laura cries, triumphant.
“I do not need to hear the words ‘Derek’ and ‘Stiles’ ass’ In the same sentence ever again thanks,” Cora snarls.
“I’m going. I hate you both,” Derek growls.
“We hate you too,” they say in unison and hang up.
Derek grins from ear to ear, feeling lighter than he has in years.
By the time Dereks’ waiting outside Stiles’ apartment door he’s a ball of nerves.
Just as he decides this is all too much, that he doesn’t get to have this in his life, Stiles wrenches the door open and just stares at him, making him startle in surprise. He didn’t even hear him coming.
Stiles’ hair looks sleep mussed and he’s wearing a worn X-men t shirt and loose pyjama bottoms.
“I’ve been checking to see if you were out here,” Stiles smiles, ducking his head a little.
Derek’s got his hands balled at his sides and he’s breathing hard. It’s taken everything he has not to run away from this, but he wants. God he wants him.
Stiles waits a beat, then surprises him again.
“Can I hug you?” Stiles asks making grabby hands.
“Erm...” Derek says, surprise overtaking his awkwardness.
No-one but his Sisters and Melissa have hugged him since... well, since her.
“It’s cool if you don’t want to but Scott kind of likes people touching him. You know, it let’s him scent them and what not,” Stiles says matter of fact.
Derek decides actions speak louder than words and right there on the doorstep he reaches forward and pulls Stiles to him by the front of his Beacon Hills Lacrosse hoody.
Stiles smacks against his chest with an oomph and quickly wraps his arms around Derek’s torso.
Derek promptly buries his face in his neck and Stiles wriggles happily against him.
“Cuddly wolf,” He says, teasingly.
Derek’s not sure how long they stay like that but he finally moves when Stiles pulls back. Stiles keeps hold of his hand and leads him into his apartment.
It’s nice, very clean, but lived in. Stiles has books strewn everywhere and a comfy looking couch.
Derek lets go of him and sits down, Stiles taking a seat on a chair opposite. It feels a bit formal and Derek wishes he could hug him again because it was less awkward that way.
“So....” Stiles begins.
“I really like you...” Derek blurts.
Smooth Hale, real smooth.
The way Stiles’ face breaks out into a huge grin and he blushes is absolutely worth it. Derek can’t help but mirror it.
“I really like you too...” Stiles says shyly.
“Good... that’s... good,” Derek continues.
“Der... I know this is all probably a little weird for you but I just invited you over to say your secrets safe with me,” he winks ridiculously at him.
“I know that...” Derek shrugs and he’s surprised to realise he means it.
“Oh. Ok. Good. Well, I also want you to know that I know you’ve had it really rough and I don’t want you to think I expect anything at all off you. I’d quite like it if we could be friends though maybe?” Stiles offers.
And Derek, ears hopelessly hooked on his heartbeat, detects a lie for the first time.
So Derek takes a chance.
“I don’t want to just be friends with you,” Derek says, meeting his eyes.
Stiles mouth falls open prettily, for once speechless, so Derek continues.
“I trusted someone... once... I know you were there and might know some of it but... she used it, what she knew about what I am, to take everything from me. It’s taken me a long time to be... semi-ok. But I have to be honest Stiles, I’m fucked up. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for trusting her,” Dereks voice chokes on his last word.
Stiles doesn’t interrupt and most curiously he doesn’t automatically tell Derek it isn’t his fault.
Derek goes on.
“I realised tonight that you’re just... there...inside me. A part of me. I think you were there before her if I’m honest. I just didn’t realise. I’d like to try but I don’t want to ruin you too,” Derek finishes.
“When my Mom died, it was my fault,” Stiles shrugs casually, voice soft, “She knew she was pregnant with me and point blank refused to get treatment, so when I came along, she had two blissful years with me and my Dad and then she died. When I found out, I was destroyed. Me being here was the reason Mom wasn’t. It took me a really long time to learn to live with that...”
Derek notices Stiles doesn’t say ‘to get over that’ and he realises that he truly does understand. It’s not the same, but the healing is.
“You can’t ruin me Der. I just don’t think you’d allow yourself too,” Stiles shrugs and Derek just knows he’s already helplessly in love with him.
“Ok...” Derek says and it’s easy.
“Ok?” Stiles smiles at him.
“Yeah... Ok,” Derek says again meeting his eyes.
Stiles comes and sits down on the couch next to him.
He thinks Stiles is going to be all tentative and treat him like he’s fragile but what he gets is a lap full of him.
Stiles faces him and he takes Dereks’ face in his hands, fingers stroking over his stubble.
He brings his lips to Dereks’, giving him time to stop him if he wants, but Derek doesn’t want.
Derek moans softly when they meet and he pulls Stiles closer to him.
Stiles licks into his mouth and Derek whines, rocking his hips up into him.
Stiles jumps up and takes a step back panting.
“Sorry.... Stiles... sorry,” Derek says, standing up and following him. He’s only ever been with one person, he hopes he didn’t do anything wrong.
“No. God no, Derek it’s not that,” Stiles adjusts his pants.
“It’s just... when I say I like you... screw it, I’m just going to lay it out. I’m so fucking in love with you it’s ridiculous. I can’t think straight. No pun intended,” he grins and Derek tries not to beam at him.
He comes and gives Derek a quick kiss on the lips and takes his hand again.
“God, your smile. You’re worried about not fucking it up, well believe me, I’m more worried than you,” Stiles offers.
He strokes Derek’s hand and leads him back to the couch.
“Now tell me all about your Sisters, I’ve got four more hours before I have to get to work,” Stiles says.
Derek does and he even walks him to the station hand in hand. He forces himself not to let go when he sees the Sheriff watching them through the blinds of his office window.
He gives Stiles a quick peck on the lips.
“I’ll see you tonight?” Stiles tells him and it’s a statement as much as a question.
“I really can’t wait...” Derek nods.
Stiles walks away grinning but comes back and kisses him again quickly.
He looks back over his shoulder.
“I’m going to date the shit out of you Derek Hale,” he yells.
Derek grins at him retreating and he just stands there for a few moments, in the morning sun, processing the previous 12 hours events.
Someone brushes past him and taps him lightly on the shoulder. Stiles is messing with Dereks’ senses, he’s twitter-pated. He didn’t even hear Scott approach and he catches him off guard.
Derek growls, his eyes flash red and Scott’s do too. Scott claps his hand over his mouth to cover his fangs, eyes wide.
It’s very tense for a moment. Then...
“Bro! Holy shit! Does Stiles know? He’s going to freak out! You have to come over to mine for dinner, Ive got so many questions!” And suddenly Derek has a Scott in his life too.
Its an entire month of dating Stiles that brings Derek to the point where he can’t take the causal touching and gentle flirting anymore.
Stiles has taken him for walks in the park (while making silly dog jokes) and he’s kissed him stupid in the back row of the movies. Every rom-com cliche that Stiles can think of, he’s done it with Derek.
Derek’s gotten to do everything he missed out on as a teen, which he appreciates so much. Except, he’s not a teenager anymore and he’s so completely in love with Stiles, he’s out of his mind with the need to claim him, make him fully his.
They’re past the awkward conversations stage and they both have no problem communicating now, they’re completely open with each other.
So when Stiles comes to see him on his lunch break, while Dereks working in the hospital, Derek decides enough is enough. He’s going to take matters into his own hands.
“Hey good looking, have I ever told you that purple is your colour?” Stiles approaches the reception desk where Derek is standing and Derek raises a dark eyebrow at him.
Derek checks him out blatantly, enjoying the way Stiles flushes under his gaze. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of that.
“You might have mentioned it once or twice,” Dereks voice is gravelly when he brings his eyes back to Stiles’.
“Jesus. Der. You look like you’re going to eat me...” Stiles leans over the desk and whispers theatrically, winking at him.
“Wolf jokes now. I’m dating a comedian,” Derek smiles at him.
“I’m naturally talented, what can I say,” Stiles grins at him, wiggling his eyebrows.
He’s ridiculous. Derek loves it.
“Meet me in exam room three in a minute and you can show me your other natural talents,” Derek deadpans and waits for Stiles’ reaction. He’s not disappointed.
Stiles’ eyes widen comically and he walks backwards toward the exam rooms. He does a hilariously obvious look around him before he ducks into room three and closes the door behind him.
Derek laughs and shakes his head. What a dork.
“Sanj, I’m taking my break, I’m going to do some paper work in the empty exam room,” Derek nods at Sanjay who is just coming back from lunch.
“No worries,” Sanjay nods and takes the active files from Derek’s outstretched hands.
Derek walks as casually as he can past the waiting area and sneaks into the exam room, locking the door behind him.
Stiles is on him as soon as the lock clicks into place and Derek grunts as Stiles jumps up, climbing him. Derek grabs his ass to support him. Stiles had found out pretty quickly that Derek’s werewolf strength meant he could jump him and Derek would catch him. He does it a lot, not that Dereks’ complaining.
Derek pushes him back into the wall, holding him up, and he rolls his body into him, tongue pressing into his sinful mouth.
Derek noses his way down Stiles’ neck, nipping and marking him relishing in the way he marks so easily. Derek rubs his stubble back and forth on his pale skin. No Werewolf within fifty miles would be able to doubt who Stiles belongs to. He reeks of Derek.
When Derek pushes his crotch into Stiles’, he groans and tugs on Derek’s hair pulling him back.
Dereks’ frustration hits a peak and he nips Stiles’ lip in retaliation, earning him a yelp from Stiles.
“Stiles, you do know that I’m not going to burst into tears if you touch my dick don’t you?” He growls.
Stiles looks at him like he’s grown three heads all of a sudden.
“I can smell you want me. If you’re holding back on my account, you can stop. You’ve dated the hell out of me, consider me respected and thoroughly wooed,” Derek buries his head back in Stiles throat.
Stiles tugs on his hair again so Derek has to look at him.
“I’m trying to be chivalrous. Because... well you know...” Stiles says incredulous, Waving his hand at him, like he can’t quite believe he’s having this conversation.
Derek licks his jugular and Stiles grunts. Derek looks him dead in the eyes.
“I appreciate that, I really do. I love you for it actually,” It’s the first time Dereks’ said the words out loud but he keeps going, “But if you’re thinking this and that are even remotely the same situation in my head, you’re dead wrong. I’m not even thinking about it. I’m thinking about you. Naked. Almost 110% of the time... and if you don’t touch my dick in the next 10 seconds, I think it might fall off from neglect,” Derek growls.
Stiles has a second to process that, then he jerks into action, tapping Dereks’ hands. He slides down Derek’s body. He flips Derek around so Derek’s back is against the wall and he gets to his knees.
“Oh I’ll touch your dick,” Stiles breathes nuzzling into his scrubs.
Derek actually whines and thumps his head back against the wall. He hopes the TV is on loud in the waiting area.
“I’ll touch it all over. With my mouth,” Stiles grins at him.
“Your dirty talk really needs wrrr gah,” Derek’s cut off because Stiles has unceremoniously tugged his scrubs down his legs, taking his boxers with them.
Stiles kneels on them where they’re pooled at his ankles, trapping his legs.
Stiles looks up at him through dark lashes, eyes blown, all pupil and he takes hold of Derek’s dick.
“Holy shit, you’re huge. Your dick is incredible. I’m going to write a poem about it,” Stiles licks his lips.
Derek digs his fingers into Stiles’ hair, desperate.
“Please,” he begs him easily.
Stiles doesn’t make him ask again, he licks around the uncut tip of Derek’s dick and works his mouth down to the base. He sucks him messily, fast and the heat of Stiles’ perfect mouth has Derek’s balls tightening in less than a minute.
“Fuck, Stiles I don’t think I’m going to last,” Derek slams his eyes shut, hoping without a visual he might not make an embarrassment of himself.
Stiles takes his mouth away but keeps working him with his hand.
“Nope, look at me. Derek,” Stiles’ voice is firm, gravelly from use and Dereks’ helpless but to look down at him.
His mouth is red and wet with spit.
“Come for me,” Stiles growls at him and licks him back into his mouth, not stopping until Derek nudges the back of his throat.
Stiles’ throat constricts around his cock and Derek cries out, coming hard.
He fucks into his mouth gently until Stiles pulls off, wiping his mouth and looking smug.
“Jesus Christ,” Derek breathes and pulls him up to kiss him messily.
“I go by Stiles,” Stiles says and Derek shuts him up by working his belt and work trousers open and getting his hand inside.
It’s the first time Derek’s touched someone’s dick and it’s the last dick he ever wants to touch. He pulls him out to look at him and it’s perfect. Stiles is long and cut and Derek can’t quite touch his finger and thumb together when he circles him.
Dereks never wanted anything inside him so badly in his whole life.
“When I finish work, I want to you to come to the loft. I want you to fuck me. Stiles look at me. I need it. I need you inside me, do you understand? Do you want that? Tell me you do,” Derek rambles breathlessly.
Stiles presses against him moaning like he’s dying and Derek spits on his hand and starts working him hard, running his thumb over the slit on Stiles’ dick.
Derek kisses him deeply, fucking into his mouth with his tongue to keep him quiet.
He brings a hand around to Stiles exposed ass and he trails it lightly down his crack.
Stiles bucks against him hard and when Derek presses a dry finger against his hole, Stiles comes all over his hand and stomach and he goes limp. Derek sits down and drags him to the floor onto his lap, kissing him and petting him.
Derek licks his hand clean of Stiles’ come and Stiles watches mouth open.
“You... How are you real? Oh. My. God.” Stiles kisses him softly when he’s done.
“I go by Derek,” Derek laughs happily into his neck.
Derek thinks the rest of his shift is possibly actually hell. The clock seems to be ticking backwards at one point and when Melissa shows up an hour early, he could kiss her.
Stiles would have clocked off at 5pm and they’d made plans to meet at the loft but Derek’s not due to clock off until 7pm.
“Hey sweety,” Melissa leans up and kisses his cheek in greeting.
Derek doesn’t want to ditch off early if she’s not ready to start work yet but she puts her bag in the locker and picks up the active case clipboard.
She looks up and looks surprised to see him still standing there.
“Why are you still here?” She asks him.
“I finish at 7. It’s only 6,” Derek says.
“Oh yes, sorry,” she says distractedly looking down at the clipboard, “Stiles called me and said he would buy me a new dress and pay for John and me to go away next weekend if I came in early today... something about a surprise for you?”
Derek stares at her until she looks at him.
She’s got a grin on her face and she looks slyly pleased.
“Can’t imagine what’s got him so worked up that he would throw hundreds of dollars at me for an hours work,” She grins.
Derek flushes and decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He gives her a quick squeeze and grabs his things, making for the door.
“Oh and Derek hun?” She says.
Derek turns back.
“Sanjay text me earlier and said he’s not cleaning up the mess in exam room three. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” Her tone is teasing but Derek’s mortified.
Derek gets to the loft and he’s a little surprised that Stiles isn’t already there waiting for him.
He showers and changes into his tight jeans and black T-shirt and he tries to sit and read to get his nerves to calm down.
He changes his bedsheets for good measure.
The clock clicks to 7pm and it’s only then that Derek starts to worry.
Stiles hasn’t once not showed up when he was supposed to, always calling or texting him to let him know if he was running late.
He tries Stiles’ phone but it goes straight to voicemail.
He puts his phone down on the counter in his kitchen and sits back on the couch trying not to let his natural fatalist instincts envelop him.
The thoughts creep in anyway.
He jumps a mile when his phone rings just after 7:15 and he rushes to answer it, balking when he sees its the Sheriffs’ number.
Stiles had put it in his phone for emergencies.
He can hear a police siren when he answers and the Sheriff is yelling into a radio in the background.
“Derek? It’s Parish, John’s driving. He said to call you,” Derek’s heart stops beating and he chokes on air.
“Is he ok?” He bites out.
“We just had a call. Stiles and Scott had gone to see the mother of that kid Jack they arrested a few months ago because she called through a tip about giving up a few other members of the gang,” Parish continues, “John, take this right, it’s this right!”
“Parish, please,” Derek shouts, needing to know.
“Sorry. Sorry. So they didn’t come back and we couldn’t get hold of them. Then we got a call from Mr. Harrison saying he heard gun shots coming from his hillbilly neighbours house on Morello Avenue. He said there was a cruiser already outside,” Parish finishes in a rush.
Derek thought he would be paralysed if anything ever happened to Stiles, like he was the night of the fire, kneeling helplessly on the lawn.
But he isn’t paralysed. He runs.
When Derek arrives at Morello Avenue he sees the Sheriffs’ cruiser come screaming into the Street at the other end.
Derek spots the house because of Stiles’ cruiser. It has a Pikachu air freshener hanging off the rear view mirror.
Derek’s in his beta shift and he ignores Johns’ shouts to wait and he runs into the house, kicking the door off the hinges as he goes.
He knows he must look pants shittingly terrifying so when the woman with a shotgun screams at him in terror, he takes a small pleasure in it.
He rips the gun from her hands and literally throws her toward Parish who is barrelling into the house after him.
He spots Stiles and Scott huddled together on the floor. Both have their eyes open but there’s blood literally everywhere.
Derek crouches down next to them and begins frantically checking Stiles to see where he’s injured. He gets his hands on Stiles’ face.
“Stop, Der, stop,” Stiles says and Derek lets the red receded from his vision enough to take him in.
“It’s Scott’s, Der, breathe. It’s Scott’s blood,” Stiles is clutching onto Derek’s arms.
Derek looks down at Scott who smiles up at him. Scott pulls his shirt up and winks at Derek.
“Already healed bro, although you’re going to have to pretend to patch me up,” Scott whispers cheerily.
Derek does, with the first aid kit from the Sheriffs cruiser, with shaky hands while Stiles cleans the blood from his arms in the kitchen.
He thought he’d lost Stiles.
The Sheriff shields Scott from the other deputies while Derek “patches him up” and helps him out to a waiting car.
“I’ll drive him to see Melissa,” John nods at Derek. Stiles is sitting on the back of an ambulance getting checked over.
Derek can hear him protesting.
“I’m not in shock, are we done? My boyfriends a Nurse, I’m sure he can do all this from the comfort of home,” Stiles is huffing at the EMT who levels him with a look.
John puts a hand on Derek’s shoulder.
“I owe you tonight son. She was shouting all the way to the station that she was going to kill them both for putting her son away. Without any thought to keeping your secret you went in there and did what you had to do. You saved his life...” the Sheriff gives his shoulder a squeeze.
Derek looks at him and he can see where Stiles gets all his kindness, his love.
“With all due respect sir, I think you’ll find he saved mine,” Derek whispers.
Stiles comes home with Derek and they walk back to the loft hand in hand, Stiles wearing his Dads jacket, considering he’s got Scott’s blood all over his uniform.
Derek doesn’t trust himself to speak and Stiles is uncharacteristically quiet.
When they get inside, Derek scrubs his hands over his face.
Stiles leans back against the loft door, waiting. Derek doesn’t disappoint him.
“Fuck. Stiles I thought I’d lost you. I lost it. I thought I would never let anyone get that close again but here you are,” Derek punches the table and Stiles flinches but let’s him get it out.
“If she’d killed you, I know how crazy this sounds, but I think I would have killed her. I don’t think I would have even hesitated. That scares me... how can you want to be with me?” Derek looks at him pleadingly, needing answers.
“You wouldn’t have killed her,” Stiles shrugs, sure.
“You don’t know that. I wanted to,” Derek growls and crowds in close to him baring his teeth. Stiles should see the real him, the monster.
He should know the danger that being with Derek could bring. He should stay away from him, he’s in enough danger with work.
Derek couldn’t carry on if he ended up being the cause of Stiles’ death.
“Are you meant to be scary right now?” Stiles taps him on the chest, heartbeat steady as ever.
“You should be scared! You don’t get it, you’re so fragile. You could just be gone, at the drop of a hat,” Derek snarls at him.
“Hey, screw you Derek,” and there it is, the first time that Stiles gets angry at him.
Derek smiles with a grim satisfaction. At least if he pushes him away, he’ll be safe.
“I might be fragile but do you know what, I’m still here,” Stiles snarls back at him and it’s not what Dereks expecting.
There’s plenty of anger but frustration is coming off Stiles in waves.
“If you weren’t there tonight, I’d probably be dead, so I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve here. Scott was out for the count when she shot him and she had that gun trained right on me when you came barrelling in. I’m safer with you than without you, so your argument is very weak...” Stiles’ voice is even and deadly and he’s not done.
“If you think for one second you’re going to push me away to keep me safe, you can think again. You can’t scare me off. I won’t go, not willingly, I don’t know how you haven’t understood that by now. We’re going to argue and fuck and fight Der and we’ll make up. We will lose people and we’ll carry on. Life’s not perfect. Don’t growl at me. You can’t protect me from everything and I can’t protect you. Life’s not made like that. But you know what we can do? We can try and we can stay.” Stiles says and pokes Derek right in the heart.
Derek grabs his finger and Derek can almost taste it in the air when the mood changes.
Through the fog of emotions coming off Stiles, he feels a hint of want.
So he kisses him, hard, bruising and Stiles melts at his touch.
As usual, Stiles is perfectly correct. Derek is too weak to not give in and there’s not a part of him that wants to.
Maybe he can have Stiles. Maybe he does deserve him. Maybe they deserve each other.
Stiles pushes at him, lips never leaving his until Derek’s backing up toward his bed. He’s never been more thankful that he bought an open plan loft with a bed in the middle of the room. The back of his knees hit the bed frame. Stiles pulls Dereks’ T-shirt over his head and Derek grabs at him, wanting to touch him.
Stiles’ hesitance from the previous month is gone. He pushes Derek down and encourages him to roll over, taking his boots off and stripping his jeans off his legs. Derek’s boxers go with them and he lies still, face down on his bed.
Stiles strokes over his back, feather light touches and skims down his sides. Derek wriggles.
“Of course. You’re ticklish,” Stiles giggles and the sound goes straight to Dereks’ dick.
He grinds his dick into the bed. Stiles skims his clever fingers over Derek’s ass and Derek hears his intake of breath.
“Der... can I?” Derek doesn’t even really know what Stiles is asking but he knows he would give him literally anything, so his breathless “Yes” comes easily.
Stiles nudges Derek’s right leg up and out, so he’s bending his knee and he feels Stiles settle between his legs.
Derek groans before Stiles even touches him because he knows what he’s going to do.
Stiles holds him open, fingers digging into his cheeks firmly and when Derek feels Stiles’ tongue swipe broadly across his hole, he grunts into the pillow and brackets his forehead on his arms.
What Derek gets is an education in ass eating. Stiles tongue fucks him like he talks, hurriedly, with lots of enthusiasm and with the use of his hands.
By the time Stiles is three fingers deep, pumping in and out of him and sloppily pushing his tongue between his fingers, Derek’s whining into the sheets.
He finds his voice.
“Stiles... oh my... fuck... I need you. Please... please, I need to feel you. Fuck me... do it. Stiles, do it,” Derek’s voice is almost gone and he’s definitely speaking around slightly too long teeth.
Stiles pulls his fingers out and Derek feels bereft but only for a moment because Stiles is emptying out his bedside drawers frantically and stripping at the same time.
Derek takes the opportunity to reach behind himself and feel his already wet, stretched hole.
Stiles nearly brains himself on the bedside table and Derek chuckles as he feels him get back on the bed.
Stiles must have found what he was looking for because Derek hears a click and Derek can’t help but tense in anticipation, half excited, half desperate.
But Stiles, perfect Stiles nudges him until he rolls over again and is on his back. Derek automatically relaxes.
Seeing him is so much better. Stiles is flushed all the way from his his chest to his neck and Dereks eyes rake down his toned torso and strong arms, drawn to the dark smattering of skin at his belly button leading to his dick.
Stiles is stroking himself, dick glistening wet with lube and he’s looking at Derek like he hung the moon.
Derek parts his legs and Stiles leans down to meet him as he lines up. He hooks Derek’s knees over his arms and when Derek feels his cock nudge firm at his hole he throws his head back into the bed.
He thought Stiles would go slow, but he’s steadily rocking his hips back and forth, Derek’s body making more room for him on every thrust.
When Stiles is fully seated, Derek gives an experimental wiggle and they both groan.
“Derek stop, Christ. You’re so tight this is going to be over in five seconds, please don’t move,” Stiles looks so pained it makes Derek laugh.
Instead, Derek pulls him down to meet him and kisses him.
“Fucking do it Stiles, fill me up. We can do it again. And again. And again...” Derek whispers and that seems to be enough for Stiles.
Stiles sits back and fucks him like he means it, like he loves him and Derek’s never needed to come so badly in his entire life.
But he has something else planned for their first time.
He looks at Stiles and flashes his eyes alpha red.
“Come for me,” he says demanding, mirroring Stiles’ words from earlier.
And Stiles does. His hips stutter and he fucks deep into Derek who bites his lip and tastes blood. The pain takes the edge off because he was about to come untouched.
Derek lets Stiles ride his orgasm out and only when he stops moving does he go to move him.
“Der, come here, let me. I can’t believe I didn’t wait for you,” Stiles gestures weakly at him but Dereks’ got other plans.
This relationship is never going to be about Derek just taking from Stiles. He pulls Stiles into his lap so he’s facing him, backing himself up against the headboard and Stiles holds onto his shoulders, looking at him curiously.
Derek can feel Stiles’ come leaking from his hole and he’s very overstimulated, but he’s not letting that get in the way.
Derek reaches down and feels at the mess of lube, spit and come around his own hole and he coats his hand.
Then he reaches back around Stiles who is watching him wild eyed and Stiles just stares at him, mouth hung open as he presses two fingers against Stiles entrance.
Stiles is sitting legs around him, so he’s doesn’t have to even hold him open. Stiles hole spasms tightly around Derek’s fingers as he pushes into him and he’s tight, fuck he’s so tight.
“Oh you... kinky... argh,” Stiles shifts his hips and Derek sniffs him but he doesn’t smell like pain. He smells like come and Derek, and Derek really likes it.
Derek manages to get four fingers in him without adding more lube. It’s a stretch and slow going but eventually Stiles is riding his hand panting, dick flushed and hard again already.
Derek’s leaking pre-come steadily now, he can feel the tip of his dick is slick, so he rubs it down his length for good measure.
He holds Stiles open, both hands on his ass and lowers him down onto his dick. Despite the prep. Stiles is still ridiculously tight and his hole clutches Derek’s dick like a vice.
Derek plants his feet and fucks up into him, Stiles rising up to meet him the sound of skin meeting skin echoing obscenely in the loft.
Derek can feel his orgasm hurtling toward him, he’d been on edge since Stiles had sucked him down in the hospital and he’s desperate to come.
Stiles, his perfect Stiles, seems to sense it and leans his head back exposing the long line of his pale neck.
It’s an invitation that Derek can’t refuse and he sets his teeth into his skin and bites hard, not quite breaking skin, but it’s close.
Stiles comes between them both with a guttural moan, dick untouched, and he clenches down hard on Derek’s cock. Derek feels his orgasm literally rip from him, Stiles pulsing hole milking him.
They ride it out and Derek finally slumps back onto the matress with Stiles sprawled on top of him.
He doesn’t pull out of him. Derek does feel around where his dick is stretching him, where he’s still inside him, getting soft.
“You’re actually unreal Derek Hale,” Stiles sighs happily and Derek smells his hair.
He kisses his ear, arms wrapped tightly around him.
“You’re the most real thing I’ve ever known Stiles Stillinski.” Derek whispers.