I Love You, Asshole
Stiles knew that their situation wasn’t exactly normal. He wasn’t an idiot, okay? But the thing with Derek is, he’s kindaa, how to put this gently…Oh yeah, he’s a raging dick. But he wore Stiles down with his death glares, threatens to maim and/or kill, and the ever present physical violence. What can he say, he’s a little fucked up too.
So anyway, they moved in together when Stiles came back from college and refused to live with his dad again and Derek had the spare room that wasn’t being used once Isaac and Cora got their own place, so it seemed…natural. He could be close to pack, Derek could have one of his beta’s nearby, and even more importantly; he didn’t have to crash on Scott and Allison’s couch for the foreseeable future.
That was three years ago….
Now they have this weird relationship where neither of them sees anyone else, they don’t kiss or hug, or really anything like that but they’re oddly intimate with one another. Most evenings they’re curled up on the couch together and one listened (Derek) while the other one (Stiles) shouted expletives at both the home team and the opposition.
“Come on, Harvey! Learn how to pitch, you’re killin’ me,” Stiles yells, waving his arms wildly at the tv.
Stiles had imagined pushing their tentative arrangement a little further, but he was mostly terrified that it would ruin what they already had between them. It wasn’t ideal, exactly but it was nice, safe, and really, really comfortable. Stiles liked comfortable, he liked it so hard, all the time he liked it.
One of the many hindrances though, was the basement to their loft. It got flooded and so Derek’s personal gym was under a few inches of water. Stiles wasn’t the kind of guy who’d force the werewolf to workout in those conditions, but…but you see, Derek decided his brand new space for doing so very many push/pull/chin/all the ups basically, was in their living room…like right in front of Stiles. Sure, he’d gotten used to the shirtless wolf and over time the sight of him wet with sweat and muscles straining had dulled.
Oh wait, no it hadn’t, it really fucking hadn’t.
“As, uh nice.. as it is for you to um be comfortable doing that..um with me here.. I think I should..yeah..I’ll just, I’ll be in my room.” Stiles said, nearly tripping at the base of the staircase.
In the end it wouldn’t matter how hard Stiles fought his urge to push for more, it seemed fate had other plans.
They’d just finished getting rid of a pack of were-hyenas, like Beacon Hills needed another fucked up group of shifters running around, when Stiles heard a beastly roar. He turned to find Derek wolfed out and headed straight for him. It wasn’t until he felt Derek’s arms wrapped around him that he realized there was a sticky wetness dripping down his Alpha’s stomach.
“Derek? Derek…Don’t you die on me, fucking hell Derek!” Stiles yelled, the red staining his hands as took what he could of Derek’s weight.
“SCOTT!” Stiles shouted, his voice shaking and cracking over the one single word. He knew it wasn’t much use, they were nearly halfway across town seeing sure to it that the hyenas left the territory.
“Goddamn it, you’re an Alpha fucking Werewolf. Heal damnit, heal for me, Derek. I ca- I can’t fucking lose you, okay. I just can’t” Stiles said, lowering both of them to the ground. Derek was barely responding and Stiles had no fucking clue what had happened. He was supposed to be fine, everyone was fine.
Stiles tried the ol’ reliable method of punching him in the face but when that didn’t work he did the only other thing his adrenaline infused brain could think of.
He kissed him.
A hard press of his lips to Derek’s soft, pliant mouth as the tears began to streak down his face. Shaking and trembling as a spinning wheel of horrifying imagery passed through his head.
“Come on, Derek. What happened? Y-you were fine,” he mumbled, the words spoken into Derek’s mouth despite the fact that he’d pulled away from the kiss. When Stiles felt the air swoosh back into Derek’s lungs he cried out in relief and dropped another shaky kiss, this time against the werewolf’s forehead.
“Hunters-tr-” Derek started, still obviously weak from whatever happened.
“Shh, it’s okay…it’s fine. We’ll take care of their sorry asses,” Stiles answered, still quivering from literally everything. “Just don’t ever fucking do that to me again, okay?”
Stiles took in a deep breath and wiped at the corner of his eye when Derek blinked his eyes shut slowly. “Just because I filled out a little in college does not mean I can carry your wolfy ass around..so don’t get hurt anymore, ever. I’m putting a permanent ban on any and all major injuries.. you can have like a papercut or something, but that’s it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Derek replied, his words quiet but not broken and that alone was enough to calm Stiles even further.
“You’re too pretty to die, anyway.. I mean I don’t know what they were thinking but that is not the face of someone who’s gonna meet his maker this early in life.” Stiles said, mostly not even paying attention to what was coming out of his mouth, just talking because the silence was too heavy.
“God, Derek.. you almost gave me a heart attack. I can’t lose you, asshole.” Stiles muttered, getting lost in the moment enough to forget Derek could probably hear him.
“The loft is yours if I die, you’ll be fine,” Derek said, sitting up halfway and the color started to come back to his face a little as Stiles gaped at his response.
“Seriously? Seriously, Derek.. the fucking loft? You think I give a rat’s ass about the fucking loft? I fucking love you, asshole. I-Goddamnit, Derek.” Stiles shouted, his face red with fury and a million other emotions circling through him like a tilt-a-whirl.
Derek’s eyes were glowing red and Stiles thought for sure this was it, this was the end of whatever tentative friendship they had, because Derek. He was a stubborn asshole who never allowed himself to have nice things and not that Stiles was someone to brag or anything but he was a damn nice fucking thing and Derek just.. he just couldn’t let himself have it.
So Stiles prepared himself for the rejection, for the let down.
Only it didn’t come. Instead, Derek’s mouth found his and they kissed, Jesus Christ they were kissing, he was kissing Derek fucking Hale, man.
Which was of course, when the pack decided to show up to check on their Alpha.
“Great, just fucking great,” Stiles mumbled.
“Can’t you guys do that on your own time, when you get back home,” Scott said, his nose turned up slightly at the sight.
“Go home,” Derek answered with a flash of his eyes. Scott seemed hesitant but Stiles knew it was all for show, he just didn’t want Derek to think he had any kind of power over him.. Scott was kind of a dick too, but Stiles has weird tastes in a lotta things, even friends, what can he say.