Derek threw Stiles into his room by his collar. Stiles stumbled forward, knees hitting the bed.
“Watch it!” he said indignantly, sitting on the bed to rub his shins.
“What the fuck was that?” Derek growled, slamming Stiles’ door shut (and making the whole room shake).
“What, saving your sour ass?” He kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket onto the floor. “I believe you’re supposed to say ‘Thank you,’ but I could be wrong.”
Derek glared at him, nostrils flaring. “You are so fucking stupid, Stiles! Deliberately risking your life like that, risking Scott’s life, what the hell were you thinking?”
Stiles sighed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe that I could save us! No, no need to thank me, it’s not like you’d be dead without me.”
Derek’s fists clenched and unclenched, a wild look in his eyes. So yeah, Stiles was definitely afraid now. Derek never looked like this, not even when he was fighting the bad guy of the week (this week: were-foxes. Yeah, foxes). He sighed again, standing up and folding his arms.
“I’m not apologizing,” he said stubbornly.
Derek’s jaw clenched. “You’re a fucking idiot. You just…you just waltzed right out into the middle of the fight and just put it up to fate on whether they’d be too shocked to respond—”
“Which they were,” Stiles interjected. The foxes froze at the sight and smell of a human, which gave Derek & Company the opportunity to attack. They gained the upper ground and the troop (or leash or skulk, all of which were accepted terms for a group of foxes; Stiles looked it up) had scrambled away with their tails between their legs. So Stiles wasn’t entirely sure why Derek was freaking out.
Derek let out a yell of frustration, turning quickly and slamming his fist into Stiles’ door. Luckily, miraculously, it didn’t break. “You could’ve fucking died you idiot! They could’ve just attacked you and then all our guards would’ve been down and we would’ve been easy to pick off—”
“Derek, none of that happened. They fell for it and they’re gone.”
“But you could’ve…think how Scott would’ve felt if you’d died!”
Stiles scoffed. “Yeah, because you care so much about Scott. You hate him!”
Derek whipped around and glared at him, eyes tingeing red for a moment. “I don’t hate him, he betrayed me and I just don’t trust him as far as I can drop-kick him.”
“Betrayed you?” He let out a high, unnatural laugh. “How exactly did he betray you? By saving us all from creepy-ass Gerard Argent?”
“He was working with Gerard, you dumbass!” Derek seemed to be fighting something more than the shift; all his muscles were tensing and relaxing in turn and it looked like he was fighting against invisible chains. “He stabbed me in the back and forced me to give Gerard the bite without telling me that his body would reject it!”
“Jesus, Derek, he was doing that to save his mom!” Scott wasn’t always the smartest cookie but Stiles felt it was his duty as the guy’s best friend to defend him.
“What, so you’d work with the Argents to bring your mother back?”
Stiles punched him. He didn’t intend to; he knew it wouldn’t do any damage to Derek’s face and might break his fist. But Derek had no fucking right to bring up his mom like that, not in an argument and not in discussions of bringing people back.
Post-punch, Stiles continued to glare at Derek, his hand only slightly hurting. He suspected Derek had moved his face (like Castiel had in that one episode of Supernatural) so as to not hurt Stiles. Which just made him angrier. He wasn’t some fragile glass doll that would break if dropped on the floor.
“Stiles—” Derek choked out, his voice strained and…Stiles hated himself for saying this but it was positively dripping with sexual tension. Stiles saw the question in his eyes, the question of Can I kiss you? and fuck him if he could say no.
“Fuck,” he said, rushing forward and smashing his lips into Derek’s. The kiss was needy and rough, all tongues and teeth and hot breath. Derek tore off their shirts and tossed Stiles onto the bed, climbing on top of him seconds later. Stiles groaned loudly when Derek thrust against him, their hard cocks rubbing together through the layers of fabric. Thank God the Sheriff worked odd hours and wouldn’t come home to his seventeen-year-old son being sodomized by an ex-convict who was well overage.
“Fuck,” Derek mumbled, kissing down Stiles’ chest. “Fuck, fuck, so hot.” He was so incoherent and wrecked and needy and Stiles arched into him, long fingers gripping at Derek’s hair. He was never like this; he always had the perfect comeback and always knew exactly what to say, but now he couldn’t say anything. The wolf’s breath was hot and wet against his skin and it made him shiver in the best way possible.
Derek fumbled with Stiles’ belt for a few moments before growling low in his chest and ripping it off. Stiles almost protested before his pants were gone and then his boxers and that is Derek Hale’s hand on his cock.
“Ah, God!” Stiles moaned, hands reaching out and grasping the sheets for something to hold on to. Derek’s hand was warm and rough and his thumb brushed over Stiles’ sensitive head with every upstroke and stretched his foreskin with every down stroke. He was stroking slowly, seeming to savor the texture and the moans coming out of Stiles’ mouth (the kind of moans that Stiles always found so unrealistic in porn but were now pouring out of his mouth faster than he could think about it).
“Son of a—!” Stiles shouted as the head of his cock was taken into Derek’s mouth. The warm wetness soon engulfed his entire cock, and then Derek pulled back and ran his tongue under Stiles’ foreskin and dipped his tongue in the slit. Stiles’ moaning was so freaking pathetic and his hips had a mind of their own as they writhed around the mattress, but that didn’t faze Derek as he deep-throated Stiles and pressed against his perineum lightly. That was fucking it, that was so far past the line of ‘it’ that Stiles couldn’t even see the line. He couldn’t see much at all since he closed his eyes, thrust up into Derek’s awaiting mouth, and came.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Stiles groaned, slumping down as the last of his spunk leaked out of his cock and onto Derek’s tongue. The wolf swallowed and licked Stiles’ cock clean before scrambling onto his knees and undoing his jeans.
“So fucking hot,” he mumbled over and over as he took himself in his hand and started jerking himself off faster than Stiles had ever seen anyone jerk off. It only took a few strokes before Derek leaned forward, howled, and spurted onto Stiles’ bare chest. Each shot of warm jizz on his skin made Stiles groan, and then Derek was done and he collapsed next to him, panting.
Stiles wanted so much to bask in the afterglow but he knew that leaving spunk to dry in his happy trail would be a bitch to clean out later, so he leaned over and grabbed the tissues he kept by the bed and cleaned himself up. Derek watched him with a strange look on his face, one that Stiles couldn’t read and didn’t really want to understand. But then Derek froze and looked out the window. (If Stiles had been feeling a lot more snarky, he would’ve said Derek’s ears perked up, but he just had sex so give him a break.)
“Your dad,” Derek said, jumping off the bed and getting dressed quickly. He’d just barely jumped through the window when Stiles heard the front door open and shut. Sighing, he grabbed his own clothes and quickly got dressed.
“You owe me a new belt, ass-hat,” Stiles mumbled, knowing Derek could hear him.
Stiles woke up the next morning to the sound of his window closing. Concerned that one of the pack was going to try and scare him awake (which Isaac had done before, using a bucket of cold water that earned him a punch in the balls), Stiles opened his eyes quickly.
There was a belt on his windowsill.
It looked exactly like the belt he’d worn yesterday when he’d—yep, that still actually happened. He’d actually had sex with Derek freaking Hale. And the worst part of it all? He wanted to do it again.
Now, Stiles wasn’t gay. Sure, he’d looked at gay porn (because what self-respecting horny teenager who often had the house to themselves didn’t) but he wasn’t gay. Maybe bisexual, but he liked girls way too much to be gay. Specifically, he liked Lydia way too much to be gay. However, of all the guys in Beacon Hills Stiles had fantasized about (which was a high number, let’s be honest), Derek Hale was never on that list.
Not that Derek wasn’t attractive. Oh, sweet Lord, was he ever attractive. His brooding face and chiseled body and his freaking eyes that changed color while you were looking at them…okay, yeah, maybe Stiles had slipped a little bit into fantasizing about Derek, but he knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. Or, he thought it wouldn’t. Stiles had officially-unofficially been part of Derek’s pack since Scott joined him after the Alpha pack, and for some reason Derek trusted Stiles’ judgment and asked him about strategy. He was usually willing to do whatever Stiles wanted so long as he knew about it beforehand (not like last night, when Stiles had decided on a whim to wander into the middle of a wolf-fox fight). They’d come a long way as a pack and Derek was finally starting to open up about his past and just exactly who set the Hale house on fire.
That was the reason Stiles thought it wouldn’t go anywhere with Derek; he knew how much trouble the Alpha had trusting people regularly, and when you added romance into the mix he was a veritable clusterfuck of internal problems. Not to mention, Derek was in his mid-twenties, and the whole pack was underage, and Derek just wasn’t really willing to risk that with any of them. (He’d actually said almost those exact words on one of their deeper heart-to-heart nights: “I’d love to, but you’re all underage. I can’t risk that.”)
All in all, last night shouldn’t have happened. Derek couldn’t trust people, and Stiles was not only underage but also the Sheriff’s son, and Derek wasn’t gay, and Stiles wasn’t gay. But it had happened, and the whole pack would be able to smell that it happened (something that freaked Stiles out to no end; he couldn’t even steal a freaking cookie from Scott’s backpack because Scott would smell it on him).
What the hell was he going to do?
Derek was royally screwed. He’d slept with an underage guy, a pack member no less, and everyone would know it, and up until now no one had known how he felt about Stiles, and oh God Scott was going to slaughter him and grind his bones to dust.
But it was so worth it. It gave him some sick sense of pride that, for the time being, Stiles smelled like him and no one would touch him because he smelled like an Alpha and that was strong enough to ward off any potential advances from wolves. As for humans, Stiles wasn’t getting any advances anyway.
He knew Stiles’ waist size because the human had mentioned it to him in passing and Derek had just never forgotten, so getting a new belt was easy. He even managed to make it look really similar to the one he’d literally torn off Stiles’ body last night.
Derek was now lying on his bed, thumb hovering over Stiles’ name on his phone, wondering whether he should call. He didn’t want Stiles to think he was just a booty call or a one-night-stand, but what was the protocol? How long should he wait? Should he even bother calling at all?
“Derek,” Isaac said from the doorway. Derek jumped and dropped his phone on his face. Isaac laughed. “I know what you did last night.”
“Thanks, Isaac Creepy,” Derek said dryly, sitting up.
“Should I talk to him about it?”
“What? No, of course not! Why would you talk to him instead of me?”
Isaac raised one eyebrow, smirking. “You’re pitiful, you know that? Just freaking call him. I know you’re stunted emotionally so I was offering you my services as middleman.”
“What, like the time I wanted you to help me train Stiles and you dumped a bucket of water on him?” Derek stood up and started pacing. “Isaac, if you breathe a word of this to anyone—”
“Derek, everyone knows already, or they’ll find out as soon as they get near him.” Isaac’s bemused expression disappeared. “Look, I’m no expert, but I think you should tell him how you feel.”
“I can’t, Isaac,” Derek said, hating himself for the whine that crept into his voice. “I just…he’s underage and he’s the Sheriff’s son and he’s human and he doesn’t want me that way—”
“Dude, if he didn’t try to stop you, I think it’s safe to say he wants you that way. Just relax, you’re making me stressed just by being in the same room as you.”
Derek shot Isaac a glare but had to agree. Stiles obviously wanted him, or else he would’ve put up a fight. Unless he thought putting up a fight was useless? Did Stiles just lay back and accept all that because he knew he couldn’t stop Derek from taking what he wanted? Oh, God, that sounded eerily like rape and Derek did not want do to that to Stiles. But maybe he already did.
“Chill out,” Isaac said, crossing his arms. “I won’t say anything but Jesus Christ, dude, just…he’s just Stiles.”
But Derek had already made up his mind; he’d pretend like it hadn’t happened, or that it meant nothing to him. That was the best way to do this. Maybe he could pass it off as some dominance thing, or a wolf thing. But he couldn’t just admit that he was crazy about Stiles.
Stiles felt Scott’s gaze on him as soon as he pulled into the school’s parking lot. Scott knew, of course he did, especially since Derek had jizzed on him and if that wasn’t marking him, Stiles wasn’t sure what marking was. He’d tried putting on extra cologne this morning but his dad was walking by the bathroom when he was applying it and he had to stop to avoid suspicion. Scott knowing was bad enough; the Sheriff knowing would get him killed.
“Hey,” Stiles said nonchalantly as he approached Scott.
“What. The. Fuck.” Scott looked disgusted and angry and slightly intrigued all at the same time.
Stiles sighed. “Sorry.” Isaac passed by and smirked at him; the damn wolf deserved another punch in the balls for that.
“You freaking…with Derek,” Scott said incredulously. “Derek Hale.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“What the hell, dude?”
“It’s not…we didn’t plan it, it just happened.” Stiles leaned against a wall and closed his eyes. He didn’t really want to look at Scott when he said this. “He was angry at me for risking my life in the fight and then I punched him and we just…yeah.”
Scott was silent. Stiles couldn’t blame him; what did you say when your best friend slept with your Alpha? There really wasn’t much to say.
“Did it hurt?” Scott finally asked.
Stiles frowned. “No? Why would it?”
Scott blushed. “I mean, you know…stuff isn’t supposed to go…up there.”
Stiles laughed. “Firstly, fuck you for assuming I’d take that role. Secondly, we didn’t do that. He just…he gave me a blow job and then jerked himself off.”
Scott’s blush deepened. “Okay. I will try to forget that image.”
“You were the one imagining his dick up my ass.”
Scott playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Okay, okay. Even. Anyway, what does this mean? Are you two…together?”
Stiles shrugged, pulling out his phone to check it. “He hasn’t called me back yet.” Pause. “Oh God, that sounded so pathetic. I’m not gonna play Taylor Swift on repeat until he calls. Just, you know, common courtesy. When you jizz on a guy’s chest, call him back in the morning.”
But in truth, he kept checking his phone at every opportunity, hoping Derek had at least texted him. Nothing. By lunch, he felt an emptiness in his chest that he couldn’t quite place (and didn’t really want to explore). So he texted Derek: “Are we gonna talk?”
Derek responded: “We should talk in person. Not over the phone.”
Well that was good. It was a lot easier to reject someone over the phone, so either Derek really wanted to crush Stiles’ heart or he wanted to become something. He didn’t really want to think about the fact that Derek now had the ability to crush his heart.
When he got home, Stiles expected Derek to be in his bedroom, as he often was when he wanted to talk privately. He wasn’t.
“Dammit,” Stiles said under his breath, kicking off his shoes and flopping on his bed. But then his phone buzzed in his pocket and he nearly tore his pants off trying to pull it out. It was a text from Scott: “Where the hell are you? It’s Wednesday.”
Wednesday’s were pack meeting days. Stiles wanted to get a pack dress code (pink) so that he could say, “On Wednesdays, we wear pink,” but Derek shot the idea down. So they just met at the Hale house once a week to discuss things. Stiles didn’t really want to be in a room with the guy he’d slept with and a bunch of people who knew about it, but Derek would tear him a new one if he didn’t show up. (The turn of phrase excited Stiles more than scared him, to be honest.)
Derek was pacing the living room, waiting for Stiles to show up. The rest of the pack was there and they were watching him like one would watch a sick person. He hated it. At least if Stiles was here, they’d stare at someone else.
“Will you guys fucking stop?” he blurted out as Stiles’ scent grew stronger.
“Stop what?” Scott asked innocently. To his credit, Scott hadn’t been staring. Only Boyd, Isaac, and Erica were staring.
“Staring at me. Watching me. Yeah, okay, I fooled around with Stiles. Big fucking deal! It didn’t mean anything.”
There was a gasp from the front door. Derek flinched; that was Stiles. Stiles just heard that. Oh, God, that is not how Derek wanted this to go. He wanted to talk to Stiles privately about it, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want the talk private for the express purpose of further exploring the human’s scrawny body.
“Didn’t…mean…fine.” Stiles’ face was red and his heartbeat was incredibly fast and Derek knew he’d just broken that heart.
“Fuck you.” He stormed out, getting in his Jeep and driving away. They all heard him start crying.
“Fucking asshole!” Scott said suddenly, jumping from the couch. “You can’t even admit it to him!”
“That you’re in love with him!”
Derek inhaled sharply. Even Scott could tell. Did that mean Stiles knew? Obviously not, if he thought Derek saying it meant nothing was the truth. He knew Stiles probably hated him (although he hated himself more than Stiles ever could) and would never speak to him. He lost a pack member. And, judging by the look on Scott’s face, he was about to lose another.
“Get out, all of you,” Derek said, turning from them and starting up the stairs.
“I live here,” Isaac said.
“Not right now. Out!”
Scott found Stiles in his bedroom, face down, head covered in pillows. He wasn’t crying anymore, which was a good sign, but he was still obviously upset.
“Dude, you okay?” Scott asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Fuck off,” Stiles mumbled, voice heavy.
Scott sighed. He couldn’t tell Stiles how Derek felt; it wasn’t his secret (or lack of secret) to tell. He’d figured it out a few months ago. Derek’s heart did a funny skip whenever Stiles entered the room or said Derek’s name. It was incredibly obvious to the pack, who actually made bets about who would make the first move. (Scott owed Isaac twenty bucks.)
“Look, he doesn’t…he didn’t mean what he said.”
“How do you know that?” Stiles said, turning over and throwing the pillow across the room. “He ran out right after—”
“Because your dad showed up and what he was doing was illegal.” Stiles glared at him. Okay, bad plan. “Just trust me, okay? He didn’t mean it. It…it did mean something to him.”
“Meant he could get his freaking rocks off, that’s all.”
“Stiles, Jesus, I can hear his heartbeat, I know he was lying—”
“If he doesn’t want me, fine. I don’t need you lying to me about it. But you can tell him why I quit the pack.”
“Stiles!” Scott said loudly, jumping off the bed like he’d been electrocuted. “You can’t…we need you! I need you!”
“You can still visit me but I don’t want anything to do with him.” Stiles was staring resolutely at the ceiling, and his voice was tight like he was trying not to cry.
“Dude, no, you can’t do this—”
“Get the fuck out!” Stiles screamed, pushing Scott away. He was too shocked to do anything besides leave. The look on Stiles' face…it honestly scared him. Scott went straight back to Derek’s, even though Derek had said he needed time alone.
“I told you to fucking leave, Scott!” Derek said when he smelled Scott approaching. He was pacing his room, trying to get up the courage to call Stiles. Everything was fucking falling apart.
Derek frowned, jogging downstairs to meet Scott on the porch. “What?”
“Stiles quit the pack.” Scott’s face was red, like he’d been crying a bit. Derek didn’t blame him. “He said he didn’t want anything to do with you.”
Derek bit his lip and gulped. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. Stiles didn’t want anything to do with him. Nothing less than he deserved, of course, but it still hurt. He stood in place, shaking slightly, before letting out a howl and punching one of the porch columns. It crumbled around his fist and the house groaned. He always fucked up and everything always went badly and this was just so fucking typical of him.
“Scott, you should go.”
“GO!” Derek roared, eyes flashing. It was an Alpha order, a show of dominance, just like he’d done with Isaac to protect Stiles when he first turned him. And Scott knew that. He nodded and left, and Derek was alone again. Like he always was. A low growl emanating from his chest, he went inside to the training room and started working out. He just needed something to do.
Isaac had gone back to the old subway station when Derek kicked them all out. This was where he always went when Derek was in his moods. It was comfortable and isolated and was kind of the first home he’d ever had.
Of course Derek had said it meant nothing. That was Derek’s way of coping. He didn’t tell people he cared about them, but he showed it pretty damn well. If you knew what to look for.
Isaac smelled Scott approaching, with…weed. Okay. If that was how Scott wanted to deal with this. Deaton had given them a special kind of wolfsbane that slowed the healing process long enough to allow them to get drunk and high (not on purpose, of course, but that’s what they used it for). Scott owed Isaac twenty bucks and probably spent it on the weed.
“Hey,” he said when Scott came into his train car.
“Wanna smoke?” He held up the pot and paper as offerings.
“Nah, I’ve sworn off that stuff. Are you kidding? Yeah I do.” Isaac reached for the paper and started preparing it.
“Stiles quit the pack,” Scott said, sitting next to him.
Scott nodded solemnly. “Derek almost broke the porch when I told him about that.”
Isaac laughed, grabbing the lighter from Scott’s hand and lighting the now-finished joint. He inhaled, held it there for a minute, and exhaled. “God damn, that’s good shit.”
“Hand it over, ass-hat,” Scott said. “I paid for this.”
“Yeah, cuz you thought Stiles would catch Derek jerking off over him.” He handed the joint over anyway. “I just…who the hell does Derek think he’s kidding? We know he’s crazy about Stiles. Anyone could see that. Hell, even you can see it.”
Scott punched him playfully, handing back the joint. “I dunno, man. But Stiles believed him. He thinks he was just…just some excuse to get off. Wouldn’t listen to reason.”
Isaac was already starting to feel the buzz. It didn’t take much to intoxicate him; what counted as “slightly buzzed” for Stiles would have Isaac in the emergency room. But he took an extra pull anyway.
“Hey!” Scott said, yanking it out of Isaac’s hands. “One at a time! I paid for this!”
“Yeah, but I’m cuter.”
Isaac was surprised when Scott didn’t object. He usually would have; he’d say something like, “You wish!” But now, he just shrugged. Isaac watched, almost transfixed, as Scott’s mouth wrapped around the joint and puckered up as he inhaled. But Scott was probably watching him, wasn’t he? Watching and judging and of course Scott didn’t like Isaac the way Isaac liked Scott and it was written all over his face, wasn’t it?
“I just…” Isaac spluttered, feeling heat rise in his face. “It’s like, the joint was in my mouth, and then yours, and mine, you know? So we’re like…kissing. Third-party kissing. I was just thinking about that.”
“You’re such a fucking liar, dude,” Scott said, snubbing out the joint and putting it in his pocket. “I think we’ve had enough for now.”
“I’m not a liar, man, I’m just…it’s weird, third-party kissing. Like, what if we shared a drink? Or a burger? Does that—”
“Oh my God, shut up,” Scott said, grabbing Isaac’s head and kissing him roughly. Isaac detected a hint of the paper from the joint, and an even smaller hint of lip balm, and why the hell was he thinking about anything other than Scott kissing him? He meant to lean back, but there was no more chair, so they fell to the ground in a mess of limbs and pulling at clothes and rubbing crotches and then Isaac was on top and they were both shirtless, and holt shit they were gonna get caught.
“Dude, dude,” he said, pushing himself up. “Someone’s gonna find us, man, we’ve gotta—”
“Fuck that,” Scott said, pulling Isaac down for another kiss, this time with tongue. Tongue was good. But there was something else, something important that he wasn’t paying attention to.
“Scott, Scott, dude,” Isaac said between kisses. “There’s something…someone…something’s here.”
“You got that right.”
They both jumped and whipped their heads around. Erica was leaning against the wall, a satisfied smirk on her face.
“Boyd owes me fifty bucks,” she said, picking up Isaac’s shirt (which had somehow been thrown across the train car) and tossing it back. “Get dressed, horn-dogs. We have business to attend to.”
Scott and Isaac scrambled to get dressed and presentable. Isaac could already feel the pot’s effect receding, more from the shock of being discovered than anything. Of course Boyd and Erica made a bet on him and Scott, of freaking course they did. Ever since they started dating, they were like some weird, psychic, werewolf duo.
“What werewolf business?” Scott said, trying to discreetly rearrange his dick to hide his boner (which turned on Isaac more than he cared to admit).
“Not werewolf business. Derek business.” She led the way out of the subway station. As they were heading up the stairs, Isaac glanced over at Scott and held out his hand. Scott smiled and entwined their fingers.
Derek groaned when the rest of the pack got closer. Scott and Isaac too? Jesus. His whole pack was a freaking game of Matchmaker. Except with him. Everything fucked up with him.
“Isaac,” Derek said when they entered. “You sit with Boyd.”
Derek flashed his eyes red, and Isaac sat. Now the couples wouldn’t be sitting together. “I don’t want this to become a fucking episode of Newlyweds.”
“Derek, chill out,” Scott said.
“No! Fuck this. Erica called this fucking meeting and I’m done. I’m done.” Derek threw his hands up in exasperation and started to leave the room. He was just so sick of everything, of the pack and Stiles and himself. He’d broken Stiles’ heart and torn apart his own pack and everything was fucking failing.
He swung around and roared at Isaac, causing the Beta to cower against the wall, whimpering, just like he always did. But this time, Scott got up and roared back, protecting his damn boyfriend because that’s just who Scott was.
“Don’t test me, Scott,” Derek growled.
“Don’t take your anger out on Isaac,” Scott replied, flexing his fists.
“Sit. Down.” Derek’s eyes flashed red, trying to give an Alpha order, but Scott stood his ground. “It isn’t my fault he’s a fucking coward—”
Scott launched himself at Derek, growling and slashing. The fight lasted barely a minute before Erica restrained Scott and Boyd restrained Derek.
“You think you can fucking take your anger out on all of us!” Scott shouted, trying to get out of Erica’s grip. “Isaac isn’t a coward, you asshole! You’re the coward! You won’t admit how you feel about Stiles and now you pushed him away!”
Derek shook out of Boyd’s grip. He didn’t want to fight Scott. He didn’t want to fight anyone. “Get the hell out of my house,” he said, chest rumbling.
Scott frowned. “What?”
“Get. Out. Of. My. House. And don’t even fucking think about coming back.”
Everyone was silent. Erica’s grip on Scott loosened, but Scott didn’t move. Isaac was staring at Derek, a look on his face that Derek hadn’t seen since he’d been given the bite. Derek’s heart was pounding because he didn’t want Scott to leave for good, he just needed Scott to leave for now, but he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t say anything. Nothing would come out, or he didn’t want anything to come out because if he said anything else, he’d start crying. So he left, he went upstairs and slammed his bedroom door shut and fell onto the bed. He could smell them all leave and when he was sure they couldn’t hear him, he cried into his pillow.
Isaac went back to the Hale house about three hours after Derek kicked them all out. It was his only home and he wanted to sleep in his own bed. And if Derek lashed out, well, Isaac was used to living with violent people.
“Derek?” he said as he closed the front door. He could smell the Alpha, but didn’t know where he was.
“Up here.” Derek’s voice was muffled, but it came from his bedroom, so Isaac climbed the stairs and found him lying on his bed, face red and splotchy.
“Derek,” Isaac started, moving forward.
“I don’t want to hear it.” Derek was just staring at the ceiling, not looking at Isaac. “I fucked up, and Stiles hates me, and Scott hates me, and I fucking deserve all of it.”
Isaac sighed. “No, they don’t hate you.”
“They don’t, okay? And I don’t give a fuck if you don’t believe me because they don’t. And even if they did, you don’t deserve it.”
A sob escaped Derek, his face screwed up in an effort to not cry. Isaac felt his heart shatter; Derek was the strong one, the unemotional wall who supported his Betas. And it killed Isaac to watch him fall apart.
“Derek, listen.” Isaac took a deep breath. “Just tell Stiles how you feel. That’ll solve so many of your problems.”
“I broke his heart, Isaac, I hurt him and he’ll never forgive me, I hurt Stiles, I can’t even fucking forgive myself.” Tears were sliding down his face and onto the pillow, and he just looked so pitiful.
“I understand, okay? I get that you thought it was best and I get that it hurt someone.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, I do, Derek. I told Scott I couldn’t be with him unless he was in the pack. And you kicked him out, so I can’t be with him.”
Derek sat up, wiping his face quickly. “You’re a fucking idiot! Go back and get him! Jesus, if I can’t be happy, at least you can.”
“I am happy, Derek. I’m happy with you.” Isaac sat on the bed. “I mean, you’re my best friend and my Alpha. Of course I’m happy with you.”
“Don’t settle for me, Isaac, I’m not worth it.”
Isaac rolled his eyes. “You are.”
They sat in silence for a minute. Isaac wanted so badly for Derek to see himself through Isaac’s eyes, just to see how “worth it” he really was. He wanted Derek to see just how much Isaac idolized him.
“You know Scott could become an Alpha any minute, right?” he said, fiddling with the bottom of his sweater.
“Yeah, I know, thanks for reminding me.”
“He isn’t, though. Even though you kicked him out, he isn’t an Alpha. He believes in you, Derek. We all do.”
“Cut the crap, Isaac, none of this is making me feel better. Nothing would make me feel better.”
“I have an idea,” Isaac said, sitting up straight. “Pretend I’m Stiles.”
Derek raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Pretend I’m Stiles. Tell me what you want to tell him. Maybe that’ll help you get your thoughts in order so you can get past this macho bullshit and go talk to him.”
Derek narrowed his eyes, but he was obviously thinking about it. Isaac had no idea where the idea came from, but maybe it would work. Maybe this would end all the problems they were having as a pack.
“Okay. Okay,” Derek said, sitting up straighter and crossing his legs. “But what I tell you can’t leave this room, understand? You don’t repeat anything I say.”
“Okay.” Derek paused, closing his eyes. Isaac waited patiently. “I’m sorry for saying it meant nothing. It was actually…Isaac, do you promise not to repeat anything?”
“I promise, Derek.”
The Alpha nodded. “It was probably the best experience I’ve had in years. I wish we hadn’t been interrupted, or I would’ve stayed there for so much longer. I wish I could fall asleep in your arms. You’re…God, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me. Ever. And I…I love you.”
Isaac bit his lip to keep from grinning. Derek had just poured out his heart and Isaac didn’t want to ruin it by giggling. They sat in silence for a moment, and then Isaac reached over to grab Derek’s phone.
“Call him,” Isaac said, holding the phone out for Derek. The Alpha shook his head. “Come on, dude, just call him. Dial his number, and tell him what you told me.”
Isaac rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He dialed Stiles’ number and hit ‘call.’
“Isaac, no!” Derek slammed the phone out of Isaac’s hand; it flew against the wall and shattered. Isaac froze, his hand hurting slightly. It felt like Derek had broken at least one bone.
“Derek,” he said quietly, not daring to look his Alpha in the eyes.
“I said I can’t, okay?” Derek grabbed Isaac’s forearm and yanked him into the hallway. “Just leave me alone.” The door slammed.
Isaac stood in the hallway for a moment before flexing his hand (which was already healing) and running off. Derek was scaring him. It didn’t happen often, not since Scott joined them, but Derek was scaring him a lot more now that he’d slept with Stiles. And Isaac was not going to just sit quietly anymore.
Scott smelled Isaac approaching late that night. Isaac shouldn’t be out this late. Scott opened his window and watched the other wolf climb inside.
“Everything okay?” Scott asked, feeling a strange emotion emanating from Isaac.
“If I leave him and join you, will you become an Alpha?”
“Scott, just answer me, okay?” Isaac was pacing, his voice tight and his hands clenched.
Isaac stopped pacing, staring at Scott. There was something in his eyes, more than the anger and hurt Scott originally felt, and when Isaac moved closer Scott thought he was going to attack. But then they were kissing.
They fell onto the bed; Isaac pulled off his shirt and then Scott’s before leaning down and licking the hot skin of Scott’s chest. His hot mouth moved lower and lower until he was at the edge of Scott’s jeans, which were gone in an instant. Isaac nuzzled his nose into Scott’s boxers before pulling them down; he must’ve been taking in the scent because he did it again, this time nuzzling into Scott’s bare skin.
“Fuck,” Scott moaned when he felt Isaac’s tongue on his rapidly-hardening dick. Warmth soon enveloped him as Isaac lowered his mouth onto Scott’s dick, taking him completely before pulling back and stroking.
“You like that?” Isaac mumbled, flicking his tongue against Scott’s head. “That feel good?”
Scott could only moan and watch as Isaac lowered his head to lick and fondle Scott’s balls. God, that was fucking good, so fucking good. He arched up on the bed, hands reaching out to grab the sheets.
“Isaac,” he moaned when Isaac took his cock back in his mouth. “Fuck, dude, what the hell brought this on? You said earlier we couldn’t be together.” Isaac pulled off, frowning. “No, Isaac, I didn’t mean stop—”
“Fuck this,” Isaac said, grabbing his shirt and shoving it back on. “Just fuck everything. I’m done.”
“Isaac!” Scott pulled on his boxers and grabbed Isaac’s arm before he could leave. “Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?”
Isaac sighed, sitting on the bed. “Derek broke my hand. I wanted him to call Stiles but he broke my hand trying to get the phone out of it. And I just wanted…I just wanted to forget about it, Scott, I just want him to freaking tell Stiles so our problems will fucking go away.”
Scott hugged him, very aware that he was still mostly naked and also hard as a rock. He’d ad weirder conversations in less clothing. He knew it was tough for Isaac, he knew Isaac was always afraid of people hurting him. It came with the territory of being an abuse survivor. (Isaac called himself an abuse victim, but Scott always corrected him. He was a survivor.)
“I just…” Isaac sighed, pulling away from Scott. “We don’t have to…do anything. You and me. I just want to stay here.”
Scott smirked, kissing him. “If you’re still up for it, I am.”
Stiles jumped, turning from his computer. His dad was in the hallway, leaning against his door. “Hi, Dad,” Stiles said, closing his computer.
“I called you down to dinner three times,” the Sheriff said, frowning. “Are you okay?”
“Fine, I’m fine.”
The Sheriff came into the room, putting a hand on Stiles’ desk. “Come on, bud. Talk to me. What’s up?”
Stiles sighed, rubbing his face. “Just…fight with Derek. Big fight. It’s no big deal, really.”
His dad sighed and turned to leave. “Just come down to dinner, okay? You can deal with your boyfriend later.”
“Boyfriend?” Stiles shot out of his chair, heart pounding. Why did everyone think that? “He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t even…feel that way.”
“Yes you do, Stiles, everyone can see it. Tell him. I don’t know what happened that made you fight, I don’t know why you aren’t talking, but tell him how you feel.”
“He doesn’t care about me, he said it meant nothing.”
The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. “He said what meant nothing?” He laughed when Stiles blushed. “I don’t care what you do with him so long as you’re safe and happy, okay? Now come eat. The spaghetti’s getting cold.”
Stiles followed his dad, thinking. Everyone knew he was crazy about Derek. Did that mean Derek knew? Obviously not, if he wanted to hurt Stiles the way he had. What if Scott was right, though? What if Derek had just been saying that? What if he didn’t mean it when he said it meant nothing? Then why had he even said it? What the hell was the point of hurting Stiles so badly just to lie?
Derek didn’t move from his bed until the next morning, and only then because he really had to pee. He stared longingly at the broken phone pieces all over the floor and felt a flood of guilt. He hit Isaac. Again. He kept fucking up with Isaac. Always with Isaac.
He pulled out some clean clothes and took a quick shower, grabbing the keys to his Camaro and driving to Scott’s house. He knew Isaac would be here. But as he approached, he couldn’t catch their scents. Either of them. Well, okay, he did smell them, but it was an old smell, from last night. Derek frowned. He couldn’t text Isaac or call to ask where he was, so he just drove to the train station. Again, nothing. Where the hell was everyone?
As he was sitting in the parking lot near the train station, he caught Scott’s scent. Freaking finally. Derek got out of the car and waved Scott over.
“Where is everyone?” he asked, folding his arms. Scott still smelled like Isaac. God. Everyone was getting together.
“Stiles’ house,” Scott said. “Trying to figure out what to do with you two.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake—”
“Shut up, Derek.” The command shocked him into silence. “You love him, he loves you. Get past this macho bullshit and talk to him. Okay?”
“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘Okay, Scott,’ I am going to kill you.”
Derek sighed, rubbing his face. Dammit. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“Oh, no,” Scott said, smiling widely. “This is you two. We just strong-armed you into it.” He winked and walked off.
Grumbling about his Betas, Derek climbed in the car and drove to Stiles’ house. There was no one else there but Stiles. Not even his father. Great. They’d all planned this, he knew. Now he’d have to talk to Stiles completely alone. Assholes.
Stiles answered the door very soon after Derek knocked. Like he was waiting in the hall but didn’t want to appear overeager.
“Hi,” Stiles said, standing aside to let Derek in. The house was eerily quiet, even considering Stiles was the only person here. Stiles usually had a TV or YouTube video going. It was unnerving for the house to be this quiet.
“They set this up, didn’t they?” Derek asked, standing awkwardly near the couch. He didn’t know if he should sit or if this was a standing talk. Sometimes they had standing talks (which were usually fights).
“You can sit,” the human replied, sitting across the room in a chair. “Yeah, they did. My dad said he’d stop paying for my cell phone unless we had this conversation. So. Let’s talk.”
Derek sat on the couch, still fidgeting slightly. How was he supposed to start this conversation? How was he supposed to confess his adoration to Stiles? He’d practiced with Isaac but it was different with the subject of his love, with the person he dreamed about every night. His mom always used to tell him about mates, this rare phenomenon in werewolf legend where two people are bound together for life because of great affection. He’d been wondering if Stiles was his mate for a long time.
“Talk, dammit!” Stiles said. He was still angry, okay, Derek could work with angry. He was used to angry.
“Stiles, I’m gonna say something, and I don’t want you interrupting me until I’m done. Okay?” Stiles rolled his eyes but nodded. “Okay. Okay. You can do this, Derek.” He took a deep breath, sat on the edge of the couch, and looked over at Stiles. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you for…months. You make me happier than anyone ever has and I want to spend every waking minute with you. I only said it didn’t mean anything because I was afraid to admit how I felt. You know what happened with Kate. Being with you, kissing you…it meant so much more than I know how to say.”
Stiles was silent. Completely and utterly silent. Derek couldn’t read his face or his heartbeat. His eyes were a bit glazed over like he wasn’t entirely there, and his lips were pursed.
Suddenly, Stiles stood up and made his way across the living room. Derek scooted back on the couch, expecting a punch or at least a slap, but what he got was—
A kiss. Stiles was kissing him, straddling his lap. He pulled back momentarily to smile and say, “I love you too, you big dumbass,” before he was kissing with more fervor, pulling on the edge of Derek’s shirt.
“Whoa, whoa,” Derek said, stilling the human’s hands. “Are you sure you want this?”
“Shut up,” Stiles said playfully, “and take off your damn clothes.”
Derek shut up and took off his damn clothes.
The next time the pack got together (all of the pack, including Scott and Isaac and, yes, Stiles), there was a lot of cash changing hands as everyone’s bets were won or lost. Erica ended up $100 richer.
The next time they faced were-foxes, Derek made sure Stiles told him his plan ahead of time.