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I'll Make You Believe Again

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"So, what are you wearing?"

Derek pulled the phone away from his ear to give it a look, even though he knew damn well that Stiles wouldn't be able to tell. He rolled his eyes before putting the receiver back to his ear, "Seriously, Stiles?"

"Hey, it isn't my fault I haven't gotten laid in three weeks," Stiles said. "I've been fucking swamped, dude."

Thankful that his sisters and cousin weren't home to hear what would more than likely be an awkward attempt at phone sex with Stiles, Derek plopped down on his bed and said, "You can always come over here, Stiles."

"I can't. So busy, dude. But I can take ten minutes out of my crazy schedule to get off with you. I mean, if you want to."

Derek was starting to feel a little embarrassed. "I'm not saying no, Stiles," he said slowly, "but, uh...I've, uh, I've never had phone sex before."

"It's easy," Stiles said. "You just say what you would do to me if you were here. If you want to stop any time, we can, okay? But I'll start."

"Okay," Derek said, not even sure what the fuck possessed him to say that. "I guess it's okay."

"I wish you were in my bed right now," Stiles said, letting himself slip into the fantasy. "I would take my time taking you apart. Kiss every inch of you. I want your dick in my mouth."

Derek groaned, "I would like that very much. Your mouth is wet and hot, and it's so, so good, Stiles. You're so fucking good at sucking me off."

Derek heard a rustling in the background and said, "Are you touching yourself?"

"Duh," Stiles said. "I'm stroking my hard cock just thinking about blowing you. You're so fucking responsive, Derek. One of the best I've ever had."

Derek groaned as he unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans and peeling them off. He ghosted his fingers over his semi-hard erection through his boxers. He didn't want to touch himself; at least, not yet.

"I've got no gag reflex," Stiles said suddenly. "I love it when guys fuck my mouth. You could, you know. Just grab my hair and fuck into my mouth, making me take your whole length. I love it."

Derek groaned, pulling his boxers down and hissing as the cool air of the room hit his cock. After fishing the lube out of his nightstand and slicking up his cock, he wrapped a hand around himself and started stroking himself, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, thumb going up to tease the head every few twists.

"Are you touching yourself?" Stiles asked, sounding slightly desperate. Derek groaned.

Derek still felt a little nervous about all of this, since he'd never done this before, but he was starting to be able to just roll with it. A smile crossed his lips as he said, "Of course I am, Stiles. You're just too tempting to resist."

He wasn't sure why he said that, it just slipped out, but he heard the groan that sounded more frantic, and it made Derek get more bold. He was totally doing this right!

"I'd want you to fuck me," Stiles said unexpectedly. "I love feeling your dick inside of me. It feels so good, so much better than my fingers. I've been fingering myself, trying to get the same angle you can get when you fuck me, but I just cant. Need your big dick filling me up, need you to fuck me like you mean it."

Derek groaned.

"What about you?" Stiles asked, noticing the silence, and wanting Derek to start talking. "What would you do to me if you were here?"

"I'd take my time opening you up on my fingers and tongue," Derek said, stroking himself leisurely. "God, Stiles, I love the way you taste, and you think I'm responsive? Not as responsive as you, I'll tell you that. You open up so beautifully for my cock. I love the way you feel."

Stiles groaned. "God, I can just feel it," he said, stroking himself a little more roughly. He started to feel the tightening of his balls and then said, "I'm gonna come, Derek. God, I'm so fucking close."

Derek felt on edge, too, so he said, "C'mon, Stiles. Come for me. I wanna feel you come on my cock."

Stiles groaned loudly as he came over his fingers, and Derek let out a low "Fuck" as he came as well. He grabbed a couple of tissues out of the box by his bed, wiping himself off, as Stiles said, "Damn, dude, that was just awesome. We definitely have to do that again."


When Danny showed up at the house Derek shared with his sisters and cousin, Derek was almost surprised. He really shouldn't have been, since he was pretty good friends with both Jackson and Danny, but then again, they didn't talk a whole lot.

"Are your sisters here?" Danny asked, once Derek let him in. Derek shook his head.

"Laura's at class, Cora's at work, and Malia's at Kira's. What's going on?"

"Stiles told me what you bet him. Seriously, Derek? The fucking Camaro?!"

Derek sighed and went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. Danny followed him. Derek took a long pull from the bottle, and, after swallowing, he looked at Danny.

"I know you're ignoring me, Derek, but I need to know - what the fuck were you thinking? You can't give Stiles the Camaro!"

"You're the only one, besides Laura, who knows what that Camaro really means to me, Danny," Derek said softly. "Nobody else knows, especially not Stiles, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Derek was seventeen when his father died. While Talia Hale was a werewolf, William Hale was not. He had been diagnosed with cancer when Derek was fourteen, and everyone was actually pretty surprised he lasted as long as he did. When William Hale had been diagnosed with cancer, Talia had asked him if he wanted the bite. While it could've cured him just as easily as it could've killed him, he declined. He was very happy being human, and wanted to die that way.

For Derek's sixteenth birthday, William gave Derek the Camaro. He told Derek that he loved that car and made Derek promise he'd take care of it. Of course Derek did, but only Laura and Danny knew that Derek cherished that car because it was the last piece of his father he even had, and so he knew they'd both have something to say about him betting it to Stiles.

"I'm not going to lose, Danny," Derek said. He remembered getting wasted on wolfsbane laced whiskey one night on the anniversary of his father's death and Danny finding him, and Derek proceeding to spill his soul. Drunk Derek was a little more talkative and touchy-feely than sober Derek was, and the next morning, he made Danny promise that he wouldn't tell anyone what he told him. While Derek was completely wasted, he did remember what he told Danny, and was pretty embarrassed about it.

"You can't be sure of that, Derek," Danny said. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because Stiles is going to fall in love with me," Derek said. "I know he is. Given enough time, even Stiles Stilinski can fall in love."

"Der, did you ever think that maybe he's not?" Danny asked gently. "Do you really believe this so blindly that you're willing to stake the last piece of your father you have on it?"

Derek nodded, "Yes, I do. Stiles will fall in love with me."

Danny sighed, "I just think you're taking too big of a chance, Der. This isn't a sure thing. It can never be a sure thing."

Derek shrugged, "I know what I'm doing, Danny. This isn't going to blow up in my face, okay? Things are going to be fine."


December second was a bad day. It was a really bad day. December second was the day that Claudia Stilinski died from frontotemporal dementia, and Stiles always stayed in the apartment that day. He actually usually went home to Beacon Hills, but he didn't see the point today, especially since his dad always worked overtime on the anniversary, needing the distraction from the sorrow and depression that the day brought.

On this day, Stiles always skipped class and called in sick to work. Since it was a Saturday, he didn't have class, but called in sick to work anyway. His boss knew why he was calling in, and he liked Stiles, so he was lenient and didn't make a big fuss about his absence.

Around two o'clock, when Stiles went back into his bedroom to take another nap, he noticed Derek sitting on his windowsill.

"What are you doing here, Hale?" Stiles snapped, rather rudely. He knew he sounded like a bastard, but today he did not give a single fuck.

"I was just checking up on you," Derek said, almost shyly. "I know what today is."

"Everyone in the pack knows what today is," Stiles said. "Something you'd know, if you ever bothered to know me, Hale, is that I hate being around people today. Why do you think that no one else is here?"

Derek shrugged, "Because Scott is out with Allison, Lydia, and Jackson?"

"No," Stiles said. "He's not here because he knows I don't want to be around anybody today. That includes you."

Derek sighed, but then said, "Take off your shirt and lie down on the bed, face down."

Stiles gave Derek a look, "Dude, I'm so totally not in the mood for sex right now."

Derek shook his head, "This isn't about sex. I'm going to give you a massage. It'll loosen you up, help you feel better. After that, I'll leave, and you don't have to worry about me."

Stiles sighed. Then, after giving Derek a pointed look, he did as Derek asked. As soon as he was settled, Derek straddled his ass.

"Okay, so I haven't done this in quite a long time," Derek started, rummaging around before producing a bottle of lotion, "so I'm sorry if it sucks. I just know that when Laura gets depressed, she makes me give her massages."

"Seriously?" Stiles asked. "Your sister?"

"Werewolves don't bend to human norms. We do a lot of things that humans would find taboo. Werewolves thrive on touch; we need it. You're a smart guy, Stiles; haven't you ever noticed that we touch each other at least fifty times more than humans do?"

Stiles shrugged - or, at least, he did as well as he could with Derek pinning his body to the mattress. Derek rubbed his hands together and then started to knead Stiles' muscles.

It was quiet in the room. It was very quiet, and Derek hated it. Everyone in the Hale pack was used to Stiles' nonsense ramblings, and so when Stiles didn't talk, it weirded a lot of people out.

"Tell me about her," Derek said suddenly. He heard the noise Stiles let out, and it almost sounded like a grunt of surprise. "I didn't meet you and Scott until way after..."

"I dunno," Stiles said, letting out a groan as Derek kneaded the knot right out of his shoulder. "She was my mom, you know? I loved her more than I've ever loved anyone else. The disease - it just ate her up from the inside out. I know you don't have to watch people die, the way that you've got those freaky werewolf healing genes and everything, but watching someone wither away like she was horrible. I was the only one with her when..." his voice trailed off.

Derek scooted himself down so he could get at Stiles' lower back after pouring some more lotion in his hands. "That's gotta be hard on a person. How old were you?"

"I was eight," Stiles said, sounding almost forlorn. "She'd been sick for a good portion of my life. Dementia is a lot like Alzheimer's, you know. It was watching the woman I loved, the person I was closest to and could tell anything to, watching her just turn into this whole new person. She got small and fragile, and couldn't remember anything. By the end of it, she didn't even know who I was."

Derek was bad at consoling people, he always had been. But instead of thinking about that, he said, “That’s gotta be really hard to get through, and I’m sorry you had to live through that.”

Stiles closed his eyes and groaned once more while Derek worked on a particularly rough spot. Derek didn’t like the silence, and decided he wanted to know about the Claudia that Stiles remembered. Not the frail, sick woman, but the woman who had been so full of life.

“What was she like, though?” Derek asked. “I mean, when she was alive. What’s your first memory of her?”

“She loved me,” Stiles said. “There was absolutely no doubt in my mind ever whether or not my mom loved me. I know she did. She loved me and my dad, both so very fucking much. She was a nurse, and she worked with Melissa – that’s how Scotty and I met in the first place . Mom and Melissa met each other several years before either of us were even born, and they were best friends.

“They were close. That’s probably why Scott and I even grew to be best friends – taking after our moms. Mom always told me we would – she was smart like that.

“My memories got so fucked up after she died. The doctors all said it was a psychological block, but I don’t buy that. I mean, I’m not sure why there is a block, but there is. It’s made my memories all jumbled up, so I don’t exactly have an earliest memory of her, but I do have a favorite.”

“Okay,” Derek said. “What’s your favorite?”

“From an early age, my mom would tell me that she knew I was going to be smart. I was her brilliant boy. One year, for Christmas when I was five, she gave me a stack of books as tall as I was. I’ve always had a high reading level, I’ve always been able to read about two or three grade levels ahead of where I was supposed to be. And since I’ve been reading since I was four, she bought me a lot of books that I couldn’t yet read, but she knew I would grow into. And even after she died, I was still learning how to read some of the books she got me. It was really bittersweet.”

Derek sighed and then got up off of Stiles. “All done,” he said. “I can’t make you any more relaxed than that, without sex.” It was a joke, but Derek almost instantly felt bad about making it. Stiles, however, cracked a smile.

“And I will stick to my end of the bargain. I’ll see you later, Stiles,” Derek said, leaving out the window. And for some reason, Stiles suddenly felt more alone than he wanted to be.