Fic: See Right Through You (Stiles/Derek)
Dec. 6th, 2012 07:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
back to part 1
--
He crawled through Stiles’ bedroom window just as the Sheriff turned the corner onto their street. The cruiser pulled up and parked, but Sheriff wasn’t done with the lecture he was giving. Derek lay on Stiles’ bed, arms crossed behind his head, and tried not to listen to Stiles sitting in his driveway, getting grounded.
Eventually Stiles trudged up the stairs. His face as he entered the bedroom was pale and drawn.
Derek stayed quiet, letting him have a moment. It had been a long time, but he still remembered how harsh words from his father had sunk deep. Stiles kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the bed.
His elbow grazed Derek’s side but he didn’t seem to notice. Scrubbing his face in his hands, he said, “Fucking Derek.”
Derek simply leaned forward and whispered. “I slashed your tires.”
Stiles inhaled sharply, but to his credit he barely flinched. “You are such an asshole.”
“Just helping you keep up appearances in case your dad checks.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Stiles said, with as much sarcasm as he could muster when he had hardly enough energy to keep his eyes open. “You’re a true friend.”
“The meeting with the Alphas is set for noon tomorrow. Reverse the spell; I need to get the pack ready.”
Stiles sprang to sitting. “Oh shit.”
“Stiles.” Derek stretched out the name with a rumble of warning in his chest. “Oh shit, what?”
“I haven’t actually looked that part up yet. I was going to test the reversal on Bright Eyes after.”
“Stiles!”
“I didn’t even think I had the turning invisible bit working! Why did I need to stress about reversing it? How was I supposed to know you were within range of… Wait a minute. Where were you, anyway?”
“Closet.”
“Ah, now that’s not creepy at all.”
“Focus, Stiles,” Derek snapped. “You need to change me back right now. If I can’t meet with the Alphas, they will attack. It won’t be pretty.”
“Over boxer shorts?”
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t steal underwear, dumbass. I took something important. Something that would give me power over them. God, you and Scott would have fucked up this plan so badly.”
“Hey! You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do know that.” The words were coming sharp and clipped. As he spoke he darted forward, so Stiles would feel his breath on his cheek. “Now change me back.”
Stiles shrank away from Derek until he tumbled off the bed. “Fine. It’ll be fine. I’ll just... “ He scrambled to standing, grabbed the spellbook and started to flip through pages. “Okay. I just. I don’t do well under pressure. So fuck off with the growling.”
Derek clenched his fists, resisting the urge to strangle Stiles.
Stiles read the details of the reversal spell aloud, nodding, repeating parts over and over. He grabbed the candles from earlier, looking a bit more confident; though, his heart rate was through the roof.
Derek sat on Stiles’ bed, his arms crossed as Stiles again formed the circle and lit the candles.
“Alright, I’m ready,” Stiles said, though he sounded anything but. “Stand in the circle.”
Derek complied, reaching out to brush Stiles’ hand so he knew Derek was there. Holding the book open in front of him, Stiles read out the spell. His voice was flat.
Nothing happened.
It was like he wasn’t even trying. “Stiles!”
“Sorry!” Stiles took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. He read it again, whispering it to himself before trying once more, louder but shaky. Nothing happened.
Stiles was panicking. Derek could see it clearly. Giving into his instinct of threatening Stiles into making it work was going to get him nowhere. So he tried not to think about how he had to get back to his pack; they needed to be prepared for what was going to happen. He had to be visible by noon tomorrow (which was now only eight hours away) or the Alpha pack wouldn’t accept his terms for a treaty. If they knew he’d been enchanted by someone too weak to even reverse his own spell, he would be a laughing stock.
He tried to stay calm, but the longer he waited, the less control he was feeling.
Stiles kept trying, shooting nervous looks in Derek’s general direction as each attempt failed. He let out a mangled sound. “I need to try something different. Don’t bite off my arm.” He reached his hand out so that it rested on Derek’s chest. “I need to focus on something and you’re invisible. It’s making this really fucking hard.”
Stiles’ hand was a warm, steady weight that Derek could lean into, concentrate on. It was grounding.
“It’s fine.” Derek hoped he sounded reassuring, but given Stiles’ flinch, the thickness in his voice was misunderstood. “I know you can do this,” he added. It wasn’t even a lie; he did believe that. Eventually, Stiles would get this right.
He was determined; Derek would give him that. They’d been standing in the circle of candles long enough that the wax had begun to drip messily on the carpet; Derek kept a close eye on the one getting too low.
But Stiles was starting to wane. He swayed, blinked slowly and Derek had to catch the book as it fell from his hand.
“Stiles,” Derek said, soft.
“Sorry.” Stiles shook his head and opened his eyes over-wide. He grabbed the book from Derek. “I can do this.”
It was past four AM and he’d already done one bit of powerful magic today. He was tapped.
“You need to rest and we’ll try again later,” Derek said, even though his instinct was to just shake the magic out of Stiles. “It’s dangerous for you to—”
“No. No, I can do this.” Stiles’ eyes cleared. His mouth pinched in a thin line. “I can do this.”
Derek sighed and stood still, placing Stiles’ hand back on his chest since that seemed to help them both.
Stiles focused on his hand, pressing hard against Derek’s chest and spoke the Latin, his voice clear. The air in the room stirred, and Derek thought maybe. Stiles’ face went from intent to pale and slack. Then Derek was reaching out, catching Stiles as he fell. The book hit the floor with a thud, knocking over a candle that went out with a splash of melted wax. Stiles was out cold.
Derek was still invisible.
A drip of blood trickled from Stiles’ nose. Derek used his sleeve to wipe it.
Stiles was heavier than Derek expected, deadweight in his arms as he carried him over to the bed and laid him out. His breathing was slow, his heartbeat weak. Compared to the frantic rate Stiles’ heart usually pumped and the nervous shallow breaths Derek had gotten used to, it was unsettling.
The nosebleed stopped but Derek couldn’t be sure what else might be going on inside. He pressed his ear to Stiles’ chest, then to his temple. Everything sounded normal -- more normal than Stiles usually sounded. That might be the lack of chatter.
He could smell broken blood vessels clotting, the faint tang of the Adderall in his blood. All other indications were that Stiles had simply collapsed from exhaustion, which was good because getting Stiles to the hospital while invisible would be complicated.
Dawn was only a few hours off. Even if he could wake Stiles now, there’d be risk of permanent damage to him if he tried magic again so soon. They had been reckless to try the reversal spell tonight. Derek settled in beside Stiles, propped up on the headboard, with one hand on Stiles’ neck, at his pulse point. Guilt nagged at his mind as he tried to find a way to make sure they all made it through to the other side of tomorrow.
He’d simply need to find a way to accomplish the plan even while he was invisible. They had to meet the Alpha pack and return the book. A representative might work; Peter was out of the question because he’d clearly take advantage of the situation. Derek’s betas were all too weak and inexperienced to face down an Alpha pack in treaty negotiations. Scott, well, Scott they might see as an Alpha in his own right and that would certainly complicate things.
Derek sighed. They’d figure out something.
He let his head fall back and his eyes close. Stiles’ pulse beat a steady rhythm under Derek’s fingers as he drifted off to sleep.
--
A dog barked in the distance and Derek stirred. He needed a moment to orient himself. The wind had picked up overnight and a cool morning breeze swept through Stiles’ open window. It was a sharp relief to the heat at his side.
Through the night Stiles had curled around him, his cheek pressed to Derek’s stomach, his hand wrapped around Derek’s thigh. They’d slept in their clothes. Derek was sticky-hot where they were tangled together, his jeans fused to his skin. He was still invisible. He blinked down at Stiles who appeared to cling to nothing even though Derek could intimately feel every place they touched. Stiles’ breathing was deep and natural, his heartbeat strong. By the way Stiles shifted in his sleep, slowly waking, Derek guessed he’d recovered just fine.
Stiles’ fingers curled at Derek’s inner thigh, and the relief that had begun to make Derek relax quickly morphed into a surge of unexpected warmth. His body stiffened in panic. Stiles was young and innocent, and more importantly, not quite awake; Derek’s guilt took on a new form, settling like a heavy weight on his shoulders. He grabbed Stiles’ wrist from where it was creeping up Derek’s inner thigh and he moved down the bed so they were face to face.
“Stiles.”
Stiles stirred, stretching his body out. Derek froze. Things went from awkward to complicated fast as Stiles’ hips shifted. Then Stiles moaned and heat flared low in Derek’s belly at the sound. A mix of human want and the wolf’s need fogged his judgement; he didn’t move away. Stiles rocked again, his morning wood rutting against Derek’s thigh. Derek ached from the tension of not moving. He clenched his fist to keep still and not give in to instinct, not grab Stiles and press him closer, not flip them so Stiles was pinned to the mattress by Derek’s body until they both found relief. It had been a very long time since he’d been touched by anything other than a fist or a claw and no matter how much this screamed wrong, he couldn’t find it within himself to wake Stiles. Not until Stiles squirmed, hand drifting down Derek’s abs, fingers brushing the waistband of his jeans only a hair’s breadth from Derek’s straining cock.
He’d already let it go too far.
“Stiles.” Derek twisted to grab him under the arms, trying to get some distance between them.
Stiles’ eyes fluttered open. He blinked wide-eyed a couple of times. The friction at Derek’s thigh stopped immediately. It took an impressively short amount of time for Stiles to figure out what was happening. His hand tightened on Derek’s abs for a second before he pushed himself away with a squeak, twisting to hide the bulge of his jeans.
“Oh, God.” His cheeks went blotchy pink. “I did not mean to use you as a... Shit.” His hands flew to hide his face.
Derek looked away, ashamed that he’d let it go too far. That he’d let himself enjoy the contact for a moment. Invisibility hid his reaction from Stiles. He was grateful for the imbalance. “You were asleep, Stiles.” That excused one of them, at least.
“Right.” Stiles peeked between his fingers. “It’s not my fault you’re hot even when you’re invisible.” His mouth opened, and a beat later he said, “Oh, shit. You’re still invisible. We are all going to die horribly.”
“Calm down.” Derek reached out to stop Stiles’ flailing, and he stilled the minute Derek’s hand touched his shoulder. “We aren’t dead yet.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Stiles said after several deep breaths. He looked at the clock. “It’s eight! Four hours until the meeting. Fuck fuck fuck.”
“You were bleeding from your nose.” Derek made the words low and calm. It seemed to work as Stiles’ attention refocused on him. “You’d passed out because you were exhausted. I wasn’t going to wake you up so you could try again and give yourself brain damage.”
Stiles tried to sit up. “I can --”
“No.” Derek’s fingers curled at Stiles’ shoulder and kept him from getting up. He was still pale, though, his pulse was no longer weak. It was safe to leave him. “We’ll figure something else out.”
“But I can try again.”
“No. It’s not worth... It’s not worth the risk.”
They were lying close. Derek’s hand was still on Stiles’ shoulder, anchoring them both for the moment. Stiles was looking at him, looking at nothing really, but his eyes were soft like he could see Derek anyway.
Derek didn’t look away. There was no point.
Stiles smiled. And he whispered the spell again.
“You shouldn’t --” Before Derek could react, a wave of heat crashed over him. He gasped, trying to find his breath again. “You shouldn’t have tried that!”
Stiles lifted Derek’s hand and it took a second of blinking down at his knuckles for him to realize he was visible again.
Stiles grinned and slow-blinked his half-lidded eyes. “Yeah, I’m the man.” The words were drawn-out and sleepy.
“You shouldn’t have tried.” Derek’s heart lurched as he swiped a drip of blood from Stiles’ upper lip. He stared at the blood on his fingers. “You’re such an idiot,” he said, both fond and sad.
“Was my fault.” Stiles’ eyes fell shut.
Derek sighed, cursing Stiles for being reckless. For being frail and human. He traced Stiles’ lips his with thumb, reassured by the tickle of Stiles’ warm breath. Stiles’ eyes fluttered and his lips moved, pressing a kiss to the pad of Derek’s thumb.
“Shit,” Stiles mumbled, more asleep than awake, “didn’t mean to do that.”
When Derek didn’t move, Stiles did it again.
Derek snorted softly. He watched the steady rise and fall of Stiles’ chest, knowing he had other places to be, important things to do. But he took the quiet minute anyway. Stiles would be fine after having a chance to sleep it off; though, he should probably take a few weeks off from playing with magic
Before he could stop himself, he was reaching forward and tracing Stiles’ cheek with his finger. “Thank you.”
“Felt that,” Stiles breathed, not quite awake.
Derek tensed but Stiles’ breathing evened out into a proper sleep and he figured plausible deniability was on his side. He checked Stiles’ pulse again. He had to have been too focused on the steady thump, thump of Stiles’ heart because it wasn’t until Scott’s feet hit the floor in front of the window that Derek heard him.
Scott’s fangs descended as he looked at Derek and Stiles on the bed. “What the hell?”
“Scott.” Derek rolled over, meeting Scott’s gaze head on. The urge to protect surged inside him, unexpectedly fierce. He moved to block Scott’s view of Stiles.
“I fell asleep!” Stiles head popped off his pillow. “Again.”
A low growl emanated from Scott’s chest. “What have you done?”
Derek felt his fangs elongate at the challenge in Scott’s voice.
“Nothing! God, Scott.” Stiles sat up, straightening his clothes. His heartbeat picked up at the sight of Scott’s claws. “You can put those away.”
Scott inhaled, eyes narrowing. “You’re human.” His stance changed immediately. And Derek took the opportunity to shoot a look over his shoulder at Stiles. He had bags under his eyes but he was wide awake.
“Yes? Have been all my life.”
Something clicked in Derek’s head before Scott even opened his mouth. “Peter.”
Scott tore his eyes from Stiles and nodded to Derek. His face was back to human again. “He texted me this morning. Said you didn’t come home last night. Said you’d gotten desperate. That Stiles...”
Derek shook his head bitterly. “He was trying to set me up.”
“Derek?” Stiles tugged at his elbow, but Derek’s shook him off and stood.
“He’s been trying to convince me that biting Stiles would solve all my problems.”
“What?” Stiles scrambled to sitting.
“I’d kill you.” Scott stalked towards him, his eyes flashing again. “You know that, right? I’d fucking kill you for biting Stiles.”
“You’d try,” Derek said, then rolled his eyes at Scott growl. “I wasn’t going to bite Stiles! It’d be a disaster.”
“Hey!” Stiles stood up, swaying a bit. “I’d be an amazing wolf!”
Derek scowled. “Did you miss the part where Scott would kill me and Peter would dance on my grave, then he’d bide his time and kill Scott?”
Stiles blinked. “Still. I’d be an amazing wolf.”
“With Peter as your Alpha?”
Stiles shivered, sitting back on the bed. “Right.” He face was ghostly.
“Rest.” Derek’s voice went softer than he’d intended. He cleared his throat. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Again.”
“Again?” Scott darted to the bed. “Stiles, what does he mean again.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Derek grabbed Scott’s shoulder. “I’ll catch you up at the pack meeting.”
“There’s a --”
“Yes. Right now.” Derek pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text then pulled the black bag from where he’d hidden it under Stiles’ bed.
“I want to be there,” Stiles said, his pale lips thin and determined.
“No.”
“Because I’m human.”
“No, because you can barely stand, idiot.” Derek headed to the window. “We have to look strong, or this was all for nothing.”
Stiles tried to stand again to prove Derek wrong, but couldn’t manage it. “I concede your point,” he said, already falling face first onto his pillow.
“And you need to clean your room.”
The muffled, “Damn right,” came just as Derek and Scott leaped from the roof.
--
The morning air hung heavy and humid around them as they ran through town and into the forest. It made Derek’s hair stand on end with anticipation.
“Stay close today, Scott. I need you right beside me in this.”
“You smell like Stiles.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Why do you smell like Stiles?”
Derek stopped. He focus on the sounds and smells around them to ensure they were alone. “I don’t have time to explain, but we need to be a united front today in front of the Alpha pack and in front of Peter.”
“The Alpha pack?”
“That thing you and Stiles were planning to do behind my back?”
Scott’s face scrunched up. He gave a sheepish, “Um.”
“Well, when Stiles accidentally turned me invisible last night, let’s just say I moved up the timeline a bit.”
“You mean...” He motioned to the bag. “You have their underwear in there?”
Derek stared up at the dark grey sky and prayed for patience. “I did not steal underwear. I took something that will guarantee they will listen. Now, will you stand at my right hand today?”
“I’m not –”
Derek held up his hand. “Save me the ‘you are not my Alpha’ speech. I got it. This is about defending our territory. Beacon Hills is ours. Yours and mine. We don’t have to be in the same pack to defend it together.”
“Do you believe that?”
“We’re going to prove it today.” Derek’s voice was deadly serious. “Are you with me?”
Scott had a strange habit of letting his face tell everyone what was happening in his head. It was really something he should work on, but for now Derek was grateful he could read him so easily.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he said, a pleased grin lighting up his face. “Let’s tell these fuckers to get out of our town.”
Derek tapped Scott’s shoulder with his fist, enjoying the rare moment of shared purpose. “I think for the first time we might just understand each other.”
Derek started walking in the direction of his family home. “But first,” he said with a smirk, “I’d really like to annoy Peter.”
--
The pack was already assembled.
Peter was leaning casually against the front door. He did his best to hide his surprise as Derek strode out from the trees with Scott only a step behind, but Derek didn’t miss the flash of panic.
Erica and Isaac were sprawled on the steps, leaning against each other and looking half-asleep. Jackson and Boyd stood at either end of the porch, posturing, fangs bared.
It was no wonder the Alpha pack had come. Derek’s motley group of wayward teenagers hardly inspired fear at the moment. But he knew they were more than this. Better than the Alpha pack gave them credit for.
They’d each risked their lives for each other more than once. And, with the exception of Peter, they’d earned his trust. The fact that their worth was even being questioned infuriated him. It was going to end today.
He roared.
It had the desired effect. The pack, as one, stepped forward to greet him, each falling into line. Even Erica kept her mouth shut as they waited for him to speak.
“We are meeting with the Alpha pack this afternoon,” he said, and paused long enough for them to mutter their surprise. He wasn’t going to repeat himself. “Scott and I will negotiate the terms of a treaty with them.”
“You and Scott?” Peter’s eyebrows rose as he stepped down from the porch to join the group.
Derek went on as if he hadn’t heard. “Our terms will be that they leave Beacon Hills immediately and don’t come back unless they are invited to do so by either of us.”
He turned to Scott who nodded his agreement.
Jackson spoke first. “Sorry but what? Why would they agree to that, again? We have nothing to offer in exchange. Unless we’re offering them McCall. I’d be fine with that.”
“In exchange for them leaving, I’ll agree not to make their lives a living hell and get them on the shit list of every relevant pack in the country.” Derek smirked. “Trust me. They’ll agree.”
He didn’t wait for questions. Instead, he said to Scott. “Scott? Your computer has a scanner, right?”
Scott grinned, picking up Derek's meaning. "I do."
“We’re heading there, then.” He turned to the group. “We’ll be back here at eleven thirty. We’ll arrive together. I expect this to be peaceful, but prepare yourselves for anything. If you have something booked for today, cancel it now. You’ll get time for yourselves after this is all over.”
The pack dispersed, whispering to each other. He was pleased to note they sounded more curious and excited than skeptical.
There was one thing he needed to do before he left with Scott, though.
He caught Peter by the back of the neck before he could disappear into the house. He dug in his claws until Peter bowed his head in submission. He leaned in, his lips almost touching Peter’s ear. “If you ever try to set me up again, I’ll rip your throat out and cut your body into so many pieces, there’ll be no coming back.” His claws dug deeper and Peter whined. Derek’s fingers were dripping with blood. He shoved him towards the house. “You will not utter a word during the negotiations or I will make an example of you.”
Peter held his hand to the wounds in his neck. “You smell like him, you know.”
Derek crossed his arms over his chest, face blank. Peter didn’t deserve anything more to speculate with.
Peter shook his head, amused. “I’m disappointed in myself. I didn’t see it coming.”
Derek let that stand uncorrected.
--
Every member of both packs showed for the meeting. Derek’s chest puffed as he and Scott made their way across the field with his pack standing tall and menacing behind him. At the moment, he felt they made as intimating a picture as the Alpha pack. Though he knew in a fight, his betas lacked the raw power of an Alpha wolf.
He wasn’t worried. This wouldn’t come down to fangs and claws. His black bag was clutched in his right hand; it was the only weapon he’d need.
Derek spent the afternoon drafting up a treaty while Scott scanned page after page of dirt on all the largest packs in the region. They didn’t have time to do them all but they got enough. Plenty enough that Derek could do major damage to the Alpha pack’s reputation should they be uncooperative. It seemed the pack's leader wasn't content to just test a pack's strength, it seemed he had a habit of noting every intimate detail he could find about each pack he encountered -- way more than he should keep lying around in a notebook.
“Derek Hale. Scott McCall.” The leader stepped forward. He had an imposing half-foot and likely about twenty years on Derek. His dark hair was streaked with grey. “I am Stephen Henrick. I speak for this Alpha pack. I think you have something of mine.”
Derek grinned, all teeth. “You’re welcome to it.”
“On what condition?” It was the woman at Henrick’s side who apparently wasn’t worthy of an introduction. Derek took note and focused back on Henrick. Status counted for everything today.
“I speak for the Beacon Hills territory and all the packs therein.” He handed Henrick a sheet of paper outlining the conditions. “We’ll return both books to you.”
“Unread?”
Derek raised an eyebrow. They didn’t honestly think he was that stupid. “Digital copies of your journal have been made, and backups held in safe keeping. A little guarantee that you will keep up your end of the bargain.”
“And who’s to say that you won’t use that information against us the moment I leave your town limits?”
“I was in your house last night. I could have done anything. Trust me, if I’d wanted you dead, you’d already be dead.” Derek flashed his eyes red, just for an instant. “I want...” He looked to Scott. “We want our town back. You leave. No blood is shed. We’ll keep your secrets and you agree not to return unless invited by either me or Scott.”
Henrick’s eyes narrowed but he took a moment to read the agreement. It was reasonable -- a simple exchange with no excessive demands. The wind whipped the sheets as Henrick read. Derek felt the first drop of rain.
Henrick made eye contact with the woman at his side. At her nod, he said, “Do you have a pen?”
Scott dug deep into his pocket for a ballpoint.
It was all formality after that. A few handshakes were exchanged and Derek handed over the books. The Alpha pack turned to leave just as it began to rain; Derek’s pack, together with Scott, stood in the lacrosse field, ignoring the rain pouring down on them until the Alpha pack was finally out of sight.
“Good,” Boyd said. “We needed some rain.”
--
Derek was soaked to the bone by the time he made it to Stiles’ house. He had stopped Scott from sending Stiles a text. It had been Stiles’ plan and it worked. Derek wanted to tell him that in person. But more than that, it was where he wanted to be at the moment. And that truth was a bit too raw, a bit too new to poke at just yet. He tucked it away and stared up at the Stilinskis' modest home.
Rain pelted the hot roof, making everything the misty grey of twilight, even though it was only mid-afternoon. The Sheriff was in the living room, snoring softly with the TV on low. The window to Stiles’ room was open and Derek wasn’t sure how to interpret that. It could mean anything. Then again it was pouring rain, so he’d assume it meant he was expected -- not that he ever worried about that before. Stiles was awake. Derek could hear him moving around his room.
He crept in and stood dripping by the windowsill until Stiles looked over.
“Hey!” He smiled, did a quick head-to-toe once-over for injuries, and the smile grew. “You’re not dead.”
Stiles’ face was ridiculous, barely contained excitement brightening his eyes. It reminded him of times he’d once had and had long forgotten.
Derek fought the grin that tugged at his lips. When Stiles caught it, his fist pumped the air. He jumped high enough Derek was sure the thud as he landed would wake the Sheriff.
“It worked?”
“They’re gone.” Derek rolled his eyes but relief mixed with Stiles’ insanity was making him a bit stupid and he was sure Stiles saw right through his surly tone.
“Fuck yes!” Stiles swung his hips in some kind of victory dance. Derek huffed, making a point of looking annoyed and wondered at Stiles’ ability to be so carefree.
“The room looks good,” Derek said once Stiles stopped dancing.
“Thanks.” Stiles beamed, looking a bit like he could take on the world.
“Feeling better, then?”
“Slept like a log up until about an hour ago. I was so wiped, man.” Stiles straightened the pile of books on his desk, not quite meeting Derek’s eye all of a sudden. “So yeah, better.”
Derek nodded, at a loss for anything better to say. Maybe he should leave. “I should--” A breeze blew in from the window, catching Derek in the back and he shivered in his wet clothes.
Stiles must have been watching him closely because he was across the room in a second. “Ah, man.” He slid the window shut. “Sorry about that. I had the window open for—Anyway. Look at you. You’re soaked. Here.” Digging through his drawers, Stiles started tossing various bits of clothing on his bed. “Here’s some stuff that might fit.”
“Are you taking care of me now?” Derek asked, genuinely confused. “Like you take care of Scott and your dad?”
Stiles blushed. “Dude, are you kidding?” He went back to digging in his drawers even though the pile on his bed already had four shirts and two pairs of sweatpants. “This is entirely selfish. You are dripping all over my carpet and my dad might think that’s considered a mess and go for the Friday night heart attack special.”
Derek frowned as he picked through the clothing and found the least offensively colored t-shirt on Stiles’ bed. He peeled off his soaked shirt and rolled it into a ball, not really sure where to put it. He tossed it in the corner by the closet.
“Totally selfish,” Stiles whimpered, his eyes trained on Derek’s chest.
Derek paused. His arms were in Stiles’ shirt but he hadn’t yet pulled it on. Was this flirting? His mind blanked completely on how it was done. He thought back, trying to remember if he’d ever managed anything other than threatening or manipulating.
He put on his shirt to avoid responding. He was terrible at this. “I should go.”
“It’s still raining.”
Derek stared out the window. It was coming down harder now. A couple inches of water covered the street, rushing to lower ground like a shallow river. Too much water in too short a time and the storm sewers couldn’t whisk it away fast enough. “It might not let up for hours.”
“So? You’re welcome to just hang out, you know? No life or death situation or a botched spell required.”
“I-- Thank you.” It was tempting. Probably more tempting than it had any right to be. “But I can’t. I have things--” The lie turned stale in his mouth.
Stiles frowned. “So this is what we’re going to do now?” He sighed, waving his hands between the two of them. “Awkwardness?”
“You seem pretty good at it.” Derek’s lips curled up at the edges.
“Says the king of anti-social skills.”
Derek replied with a raised eyebrow, grateful one look was all that was required now that he was no longer invisible.
Stiles’ mouth opened and closed, soundlessly. “You know what? Fuck it.” Stiles stepped forward with a look so intense Derek had to resist stepping backward. Stiles’ heart sounded like the frantic beat of a rabbit’s. It made Derek’s want to rise to match it.
“That’s right, Derek. Fuck. It.”
Then Stiles was right there, his hands wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck. Their faces slammed together in a rough press of lips. Derek melted into it, even though it lacked any grace, any gentleness whatsoever. What it said was all that mattered. Stiles wanted this.
“There,” Stiles said, a bit hysterical. “I’m glad you didn’t get killed today.” His eyes went wide like he’d just issued a challenge, like he’d just invented communication.
Stiles moved around a lot. Sometimes it gave Derek a headache, sometimes it made him dizzy. Right now, with Stiles fidgeting and nervous, about to run, it was pissing Derek off. He cradled Stiles’ chin until he stilled.
Kissing wasn’t something he’d ever paid much attention to with any of his hookups. Strangers in seedy hotels, in the toilets of bars. Kissing was something he did if he had to. Just another thing that Kate had turned to ash for him. But there was something in the way Stiles never seemed to calm that made Derek want to do this properly. He moved in what felt like slow motion and made it his mission to kiss Stiles until he stopped moving, stopped thinking. Until he felt as dazed and stupid as Derek felt right now.
The first touch was gentle, a few barely-there brushes of lips. Stiles immediately struggled to deepen the kiss, but Derek kept himself just out of reach, kept the kiss achingly slow until Stiles whined for more.
Derek hummed at the sound and tickled Stiles' bottom lip with his tongue. He felt heat rush through him at the first sweet taste. Kate had been vicious, hot and cruel, biting until his lips bled and his eyes stung. He’d been young and confused about how this was supposed to go, how it was supposed to feel. It took a long time to realize how it wasn’t suppose to feel (like your guts had been ripped out and put on display for everyone to mock).
He wouldn’t be that person for Stiles. He kissed Stiles like he was precious.
Only when Stiles finally, finally settled into the softness of the kiss did Derek deepen it.
Their tongues made first tentative contact and the shock of it made his dick jump. He let go of his control as his passion flared. His hands were suddenly everywhere. His cock was trapped in cold, wet jeans but Stiles didn’t seem to care. He pressed them together, Stiles’ thigh snug between Derek’s.
It felt like his first kiss. Clichéd as it was, he couldn’t remember a single one that had made his body come alive like this. When he pulled back, Stiles’ eyes were glazed over. He was licking at his wet lips like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
“I’m glad you didn’t get anyone killed with your stupid plan,” Derek said, because he was, and also because he wanted to hear Stiles squawk.
Stiles did. His forehead fell forward to rest on Derek’s chin. “Brilliant plan you mean,” he said between breaths.
Derek kissed the spikey top of his head and whispered, “Yeah.” This was all right, he thought to himself. He could do this. It didn’t stop him from shivering, though. He kissed Stiles chastely on his cheek, then his jaw.
“We should--” Stiles pushed him back, until Derek’s knees hit the edge of the bed. Stiles’ mouth found his and they lost themselves again. Stiles’ hands were hot on his skin as they wandered under Derek’s shirt. “Yeah, we should get your wet clothes off.” He nipped at the stubble at Derek’s chin. “You’re cold.”
He wasn’t cold. He swallowed his denial, as Stiles pulled off his completely dry t-shirt and began biting at his shoulder.
“Stiles,” Derek said, a bit helpless. He didn’t want to stop, so when Stiles hesitated, Derek reached for the hem of Stiles’ shirt.
“Yeah.” Stiles grinned and nodded, helping Derek get it off. “But seriously. Not to be all forward or anything, but your jeans are soaking through my jeans. Can we?” His cheeks went blotchy red at the jawline. It started to creep down his neck. Derek felt a hand rest on his belt buckle, waiting.
“Yes.” Derek blinked. “If you want. We don’t need to--” Derek cleared his throat. “It’s okay to take this slow.” He reached for Stiles’ belt.
“Sure. Slow.” Stiles stood in his boxers and bit his lip as he watched Derek pry off his too tight, too wet jeans. It wasn’t done elegantly. “I think we should just, um, get under the covers. You’re still cold.”
Derek smirked and watched Stiles’ hard on strain awkwardly in his boxers as he pushed all the clothes piled on his bed onto the floor.
“Oh god, remind me to clean that up later,” Stiles said, lifting the covers so Derek could slip in beside him.
It was hot beneath the blanket; the bed smelled so much of Stiles, Derek was flooded with memories of waking that morning, not alone for once. Stiles was there and almost naked, touching Derek like it was Derek who was the virgin, Derek who needed the gentle hand. Feather light kisses peppered Derek’s cheeks, jaw and neck.
Derek tensed, overwhelmed.
“This okay?” Stiles couldn’t hide the nervous hitch to his voice.
It was enough to snap Derek out of it. “Too good.” He wrapped his hand around Stiles’ nape and kissed him soundly. They were pressed together, naked thighs and chests, the thin cotton of their boxers. He could kiss like this all afternoon.
He let his hand wander to Stiles' ass, feeling the soft, worn fabric beneath his fingers. Stiles shifted, rolling his hips against Derek’s groin. They gasped into each other’s mouths, kissing and licking, changing from slow and sweet to fast and desperate.
At one point they kicked off the covers and Stiles moved to straddle Derek’s waist, and that was even better. Stiles squirmed in all the right ways, making Derek’s hips snap upwards. They were a bit lost after that. Their kisses became more open-mouthed and sloppy. They breathed each other’s air as they rocked together in search of more friction.
Stiles had to pull away from kissing to catch his breath. “Too much,” he whined.
“We could stop.” He’d meant to say should stop, but his mouth wasn’t working properly.
“Don’t wanna.” Stiles was never still, hands and mouth touching everywhere like he couldn’t get enough. “You’re a really, really fucking good kisser.” He caught Derek’s mouth and writhed, grinding their cocks together as they kissed.
Derek’s hands clutched Stiles’ hips to... stop him? Help him? Derek was too far gone to think clearly about his intentions. He felt his balls stir, then tighten. He couldn’t even get a warning out before his breath was stolen away and he was coming in his shorts. Above him Stiles whimpered, ever in motion, until he wasn’t. A final trust and his body suddenly locked. The sound he made was something Derek would remember for a long time.
He resisted the instinct to bite, to mark. It was all moving way too fast. But nothing about this felt wrong. When he came back to himself it felt nothing like his first time. No shame. No worry. No secrets. He lay back and watched Stiles’ flushed face, his mouth hanging open. Then Stiles shifted, rocking their softening cocks together in a blinding moment of over-stimulation and pleasure.
“Holy fuck that was hot.”
Derek chuckled into the crook of Stiles’ neck. Because, yeah, it was. He let his eyes fall shut with a smile on his face and tried not to pout when Stiles clambered off him.
A moment later a Kleenex box landed on the bed. He cleaned up sleepily and filled the trash. He settled back on the headboard, wishing Stiles was curled at his side like he’d been that morning. He could tell, even before it began, that Stiles was going to be chatty, a bundle of unnatural post-orgasm energy.
“Your father will be up soon. I should go.”
“You’ll hear him, right? You’ll have time to hide in the closet.”
Derek wrinkled his nose. “It smells in there.”
That ripped a laugh from Stiles. He leaned in and kissed Derek. Then Stiles was off again, grabbing his clothes from the floor and shoving them haphazardly into drawers that wouldn’t shut properly afterwards.
When the floor was cleared, he sat on the bed, his face serious. “Were you tempted? When Peter was trying to get you to bite me.”
“I—” How could he answer that? Part of him was tempted. “You’d make a good wolf.”
“I’d make an amazing wolf.”
Derek smirked. “We have our own code, if you want to call it that. I won’t become like Peter – do what Peter did to Scott. I won’t bite someone who doesn’t want it. The bite is a gift.”
Tracing a finger down Derek’s sweat-slicked chest, Stiles said, “And you know I’d be nothing but trouble for you if you bit me without my say so.”
“You’d be trouble either way.”
“Yeah.” Stiles beamed at Derek. “I totally would.”
“If you wanted it... If I offered?”
“I don’t want it.”
“Okay.” Derek didn’t need to know more than that. There was no hesitation, no sign of a lie.
“Okay?” Stiles' fingers stopped moving. “Even though you think the pack would be stronger?”
“I already knew you didn’t want the bite.” Derek held his gaze. Stiles couldn’t hear the truth in Derek’s heartbeat but hopefully he saw it in his eyes. “It’s not an issue, Stiles. It was Peter who was trying to make it one.”
Stiles seemed to believe him because he nodded and stretched out bedside Derek, tangling their legs together. They were quiet for a long time and Derek dozed, listening to the rain, the quiet noise of the TV downstairs and Sheriff’s snores.
Eventually Stiles lifted his head. “Scott won’t ever join your pack.”
Derek shrugged. “We do alright as we are.”
Stiles let his head rest again like he understood. Maybe he did. Maybe it was Derek that was the last to understand what Stiles and Scott had been offering him.
He turned to watch through the rain streaked window as night fell. The forest would be fresh and washed anew by morning. Maybe Stiles would go for a run with him.
--
He crawled through Stiles’ bedroom window just as the Sheriff turned the corner onto their street. The cruiser pulled up and parked, but Sheriff wasn’t done with the lecture he was giving. Derek lay on Stiles’ bed, arms crossed behind his head, and tried not to listen to Stiles sitting in his driveway, getting grounded.
Eventually Stiles trudged up the stairs. His face as he entered the bedroom was pale and drawn.
Derek stayed quiet, letting him have a moment. It had been a long time, but he still remembered how harsh words from his father had sunk deep. Stiles kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the bed.
His elbow grazed Derek’s side but he didn’t seem to notice. Scrubbing his face in his hands, he said, “Fucking Derek.”
Derek simply leaned forward and whispered. “I slashed your tires.”
Stiles inhaled sharply, but to his credit he barely flinched. “You are such an asshole.”
“Just helping you keep up appearances in case your dad checks.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Stiles said, with as much sarcasm as he could muster when he had hardly enough energy to keep his eyes open. “You’re a true friend.”
“The meeting with the Alphas is set for noon tomorrow. Reverse the spell; I need to get the pack ready.”
Stiles sprang to sitting. “Oh shit.”
“Stiles.” Derek stretched out the name with a rumble of warning in his chest. “Oh shit, what?”
“I haven’t actually looked that part up yet. I was going to test the reversal on Bright Eyes after.”
“Stiles!”
“I didn’t even think I had the turning invisible bit working! Why did I need to stress about reversing it? How was I supposed to know you were within range of… Wait a minute. Where were you, anyway?”
“Closet.”
“Ah, now that’s not creepy at all.”
“Focus, Stiles,” Derek snapped. “You need to change me back right now. If I can’t meet with the Alphas, they will attack. It won’t be pretty.”
“Over boxer shorts?”
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t steal underwear, dumbass. I took something important. Something that would give me power over them. God, you and Scott would have fucked up this plan so badly.”
“Hey! You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do know that.” The words were coming sharp and clipped. As he spoke he darted forward, so Stiles would feel his breath on his cheek. “Now change me back.”
Stiles shrank away from Derek until he tumbled off the bed. “Fine. It’ll be fine. I’ll just... “ He scrambled to standing, grabbed the spellbook and started to flip through pages. “Okay. I just. I don’t do well under pressure. So fuck off with the growling.”
Derek clenched his fists, resisting the urge to strangle Stiles.
Stiles read the details of the reversal spell aloud, nodding, repeating parts over and over. He grabbed the candles from earlier, looking a bit more confident; though, his heart rate was through the roof.
Derek sat on Stiles’ bed, his arms crossed as Stiles again formed the circle and lit the candles.
“Alright, I’m ready,” Stiles said, though he sounded anything but. “Stand in the circle.”
Derek complied, reaching out to brush Stiles’ hand so he knew Derek was there. Holding the book open in front of him, Stiles read out the spell. His voice was flat.
Nothing happened.
It was like he wasn’t even trying. “Stiles!”
“Sorry!” Stiles took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. He read it again, whispering it to himself before trying once more, louder but shaky. Nothing happened.
Stiles was panicking. Derek could see it clearly. Giving into his instinct of threatening Stiles into making it work was going to get him nowhere. So he tried not to think about how he had to get back to his pack; they needed to be prepared for what was going to happen. He had to be visible by noon tomorrow (which was now only eight hours away) or the Alpha pack wouldn’t accept his terms for a treaty. If they knew he’d been enchanted by someone too weak to even reverse his own spell, he would be a laughing stock.
He tried to stay calm, but the longer he waited, the less control he was feeling.
Stiles kept trying, shooting nervous looks in Derek’s general direction as each attempt failed. He let out a mangled sound. “I need to try something different. Don’t bite off my arm.” He reached his hand out so that it rested on Derek’s chest. “I need to focus on something and you’re invisible. It’s making this really fucking hard.”
Stiles’ hand was a warm, steady weight that Derek could lean into, concentrate on. It was grounding.
“It’s fine.” Derek hoped he sounded reassuring, but given Stiles’ flinch, the thickness in his voice was misunderstood. “I know you can do this,” he added. It wasn’t even a lie; he did believe that. Eventually, Stiles would get this right.
He was determined; Derek would give him that. They’d been standing in the circle of candles long enough that the wax had begun to drip messily on the carpet; Derek kept a close eye on the one getting too low.
But Stiles was starting to wane. He swayed, blinked slowly and Derek had to catch the book as it fell from his hand.
“Stiles,” Derek said, soft.
“Sorry.” Stiles shook his head and opened his eyes over-wide. He grabbed the book from Derek. “I can do this.”
It was past four AM and he’d already done one bit of powerful magic today. He was tapped.
“You need to rest and we’ll try again later,” Derek said, even though his instinct was to just shake the magic out of Stiles. “It’s dangerous for you to—”
“No. No, I can do this.” Stiles’ eyes cleared. His mouth pinched in a thin line. “I can do this.”
Derek sighed and stood still, placing Stiles’ hand back on his chest since that seemed to help them both.
Stiles focused on his hand, pressing hard against Derek’s chest and spoke the Latin, his voice clear. The air in the room stirred, and Derek thought maybe. Stiles’ face went from intent to pale and slack. Then Derek was reaching out, catching Stiles as he fell. The book hit the floor with a thud, knocking over a candle that went out with a splash of melted wax. Stiles was out cold.
Derek was still invisible.
A drip of blood trickled from Stiles’ nose. Derek used his sleeve to wipe it.
Stiles was heavier than Derek expected, deadweight in his arms as he carried him over to the bed and laid him out. His breathing was slow, his heartbeat weak. Compared to the frantic rate Stiles’ heart usually pumped and the nervous shallow breaths Derek had gotten used to, it was unsettling.
The nosebleed stopped but Derek couldn’t be sure what else might be going on inside. He pressed his ear to Stiles’ chest, then to his temple. Everything sounded normal -- more normal than Stiles usually sounded. That might be the lack of chatter.
He could smell broken blood vessels clotting, the faint tang of the Adderall in his blood. All other indications were that Stiles had simply collapsed from exhaustion, which was good because getting Stiles to the hospital while invisible would be complicated.
Dawn was only a few hours off. Even if he could wake Stiles now, there’d be risk of permanent damage to him if he tried magic again so soon. They had been reckless to try the reversal spell tonight. Derek settled in beside Stiles, propped up on the headboard, with one hand on Stiles’ neck, at his pulse point. Guilt nagged at his mind as he tried to find a way to make sure they all made it through to the other side of tomorrow.
He’d simply need to find a way to accomplish the plan even while he was invisible. They had to meet the Alpha pack and return the book. A representative might work; Peter was out of the question because he’d clearly take advantage of the situation. Derek’s betas were all too weak and inexperienced to face down an Alpha pack in treaty negotiations. Scott, well, Scott they might see as an Alpha in his own right and that would certainly complicate things.
Derek sighed. They’d figure out something.
He let his head fall back and his eyes close. Stiles’ pulse beat a steady rhythm under Derek’s fingers as he drifted off to sleep.
--
A dog barked in the distance and Derek stirred. He needed a moment to orient himself. The wind had picked up overnight and a cool morning breeze swept through Stiles’ open window. It was a sharp relief to the heat at his side.
Through the night Stiles had curled around him, his cheek pressed to Derek’s stomach, his hand wrapped around Derek’s thigh. They’d slept in their clothes. Derek was sticky-hot where they were tangled together, his jeans fused to his skin. He was still invisible. He blinked down at Stiles who appeared to cling to nothing even though Derek could intimately feel every place they touched. Stiles’ breathing was deep and natural, his heartbeat strong. By the way Stiles shifted in his sleep, slowly waking, Derek guessed he’d recovered just fine.
Stiles’ fingers curled at Derek’s inner thigh, and the relief that had begun to make Derek relax quickly morphed into a surge of unexpected warmth. His body stiffened in panic. Stiles was young and innocent, and more importantly, not quite awake; Derek’s guilt took on a new form, settling like a heavy weight on his shoulders. He grabbed Stiles’ wrist from where it was creeping up Derek’s inner thigh and he moved down the bed so they were face to face.
“Stiles.”
Stiles stirred, stretching his body out. Derek froze. Things went from awkward to complicated fast as Stiles’ hips shifted. Then Stiles moaned and heat flared low in Derek’s belly at the sound. A mix of human want and the wolf’s need fogged his judgement; he didn’t move away. Stiles rocked again, his morning wood rutting against Derek’s thigh. Derek ached from the tension of not moving. He clenched his fist to keep still and not give in to instinct, not grab Stiles and press him closer, not flip them so Stiles was pinned to the mattress by Derek’s body until they both found relief. It had been a very long time since he’d been touched by anything other than a fist or a claw and no matter how much this screamed wrong, he couldn’t find it within himself to wake Stiles. Not until Stiles squirmed, hand drifting down Derek’s abs, fingers brushing the waistband of his jeans only a hair’s breadth from Derek’s straining cock.
He’d already let it go too far.
“Stiles.” Derek twisted to grab him under the arms, trying to get some distance between them.
Stiles’ eyes fluttered open. He blinked wide-eyed a couple of times. The friction at Derek’s thigh stopped immediately. It took an impressively short amount of time for Stiles to figure out what was happening. His hand tightened on Derek’s abs for a second before he pushed himself away with a squeak, twisting to hide the bulge of his jeans.
“Oh, God.” His cheeks went blotchy pink. “I did not mean to use you as a... Shit.” His hands flew to hide his face.
Derek looked away, ashamed that he’d let it go too far. That he’d let himself enjoy the contact for a moment. Invisibility hid his reaction from Stiles. He was grateful for the imbalance. “You were asleep, Stiles.” That excused one of them, at least.
“Right.” Stiles peeked between his fingers. “It’s not my fault you’re hot even when you’re invisible.” His mouth opened, and a beat later he said, “Oh, shit. You’re still invisible. We are all going to die horribly.”
“Calm down.” Derek reached out to stop Stiles’ flailing, and he stilled the minute Derek’s hand touched his shoulder. “We aren’t dead yet.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Stiles said after several deep breaths. He looked at the clock. “It’s eight! Four hours until the meeting. Fuck fuck fuck.”
“You were bleeding from your nose.” Derek made the words low and calm. It seemed to work as Stiles’ attention refocused on him. “You’d passed out because you were exhausted. I wasn’t going to wake you up so you could try again and give yourself brain damage.”
Stiles tried to sit up. “I can --”
“No.” Derek’s fingers curled at Stiles’ shoulder and kept him from getting up. He was still pale, though, his pulse was no longer weak. It was safe to leave him. “We’ll figure something else out.”
“But I can try again.”
“No. It’s not worth... It’s not worth the risk.”
They were lying close. Derek’s hand was still on Stiles’ shoulder, anchoring them both for the moment. Stiles was looking at him, looking at nothing really, but his eyes were soft like he could see Derek anyway.
Derek didn’t look away. There was no point.
Stiles smiled. And he whispered the spell again.
“You shouldn’t --” Before Derek could react, a wave of heat crashed over him. He gasped, trying to find his breath again. “You shouldn’t have tried that!”
Stiles lifted Derek’s hand and it took a second of blinking down at his knuckles for him to realize he was visible again.
Stiles grinned and slow-blinked his half-lidded eyes. “Yeah, I’m the man.” The words were drawn-out and sleepy.
“You shouldn’t have tried.” Derek’s heart lurched as he swiped a drip of blood from Stiles’ upper lip. He stared at the blood on his fingers. “You’re such an idiot,” he said, both fond and sad.
“Was my fault.” Stiles’ eyes fell shut.
Derek sighed, cursing Stiles for being reckless. For being frail and human. He traced Stiles’ lips his with thumb, reassured by the tickle of Stiles’ warm breath. Stiles’ eyes fluttered and his lips moved, pressing a kiss to the pad of Derek’s thumb.
“Shit,” Stiles mumbled, more asleep than awake, “didn’t mean to do that.”
When Derek didn’t move, Stiles did it again.
Derek snorted softly. He watched the steady rise and fall of Stiles’ chest, knowing he had other places to be, important things to do. But he took the quiet minute anyway. Stiles would be fine after having a chance to sleep it off; though, he should probably take a few weeks off from playing with magic
Before he could stop himself, he was reaching forward and tracing Stiles’ cheek with his finger. “Thank you.”
“Felt that,” Stiles breathed, not quite awake.
Derek tensed but Stiles’ breathing evened out into a proper sleep and he figured plausible deniability was on his side. He checked Stiles’ pulse again. He had to have been too focused on the steady thump, thump of Stiles’ heart because it wasn’t until Scott’s feet hit the floor in front of the window that Derek heard him.
Scott’s fangs descended as he looked at Derek and Stiles on the bed. “What the hell?”
“Scott.” Derek rolled over, meeting Scott’s gaze head on. The urge to protect surged inside him, unexpectedly fierce. He moved to block Scott’s view of Stiles.
“I fell asleep!” Stiles head popped off his pillow. “Again.”
A low growl emanated from Scott’s chest. “What have you done?”
Derek felt his fangs elongate at the challenge in Scott’s voice.
“Nothing! God, Scott.” Stiles sat up, straightening his clothes. His heartbeat picked up at the sight of Scott’s claws. “You can put those away.”
Scott inhaled, eyes narrowing. “You’re human.” His stance changed immediately. And Derek took the opportunity to shoot a look over his shoulder at Stiles. He had bags under his eyes but he was wide awake.
“Yes? Have been all my life.”
Something clicked in Derek’s head before Scott even opened his mouth. “Peter.”
Scott tore his eyes from Stiles and nodded to Derek. His face was back to human again. “He texted me this morning. Said you didn’t come home last night. Said you’d gotten desperate. That Stiles...”
Derek shook his head bitterly. “He was trying to set me up.”
“Derek?” Stiles tugged at his elbow, but Derek’s shook him off and stood.
“He’s been trying to convince me that biting Stiles would solve all my problems.”
“What?” Stiles scrambled to sitting.
“I’d kill you.” Scott stalked towards him, his eyes flashing again. “You know that, right? I’d fucking kill you for biting Stiles.”
“You’d try,” Derek said, then rolled his eyes at Scott growl. “I wasn’t going to bite Stiles! It’d be a disaster.”
“Hey!” Stiles stood up, swaying a bit. “I’d be an amazing wolf!”
Derek scowled. “Did you miss the part where Scott would kill me and Peter would dance on my grave, then he’d bide his time and kill Scott?”
Stiles blinked. “Still. I’d be an amazing wolf.”
“With Peter as your Alpha?”
Stiles shivered, sitting back on the bed. “Right.” He face was ghostly.
“Rest.” Derek’s voice went softer than he’d intended. He cleared his throat. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Again.”
“Again?” Scott darted to the bed. “Stiles, what does he mean again.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Derek grabbed Scott’s shoulder. “I’ll catch you up at the pack meeting.”
“There’s a --”
“Yes. Right now.” Derek pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text then pulled the black bag from where he’d hidden it under Stiles’ bed.
“I want to be there,” Stiles said, his pale lips thin and determined.
“No.”
“Because I’m human.”
“No, because you can barely stand, idiot.” Derek headed to the window. “We have to look strong, or this was all for nothing.”
Stiles tried to stand again to prove Derek wrong, but couldn’t manage it. “I concede your point,” he said, already falling face first onto his pillow.
“And you need to clean your room.”
The muffled, “Damn right,” came just as Derek and Scott leaped from the roof.
--
The morning air hung heavy and humid around them as they ran through town and into the forest. It made Derek’s hair stand on end with anticipation.
“Stay close today, Scott. I need you right beside me in this.”
“You smell like Stiles.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Why do you smell like Stiles?”
Derek stopped. He focus on the sounds and smells around them to ensure they were alone. “I don’t have time to explain, but we need to be a united front today in front of the Alpha pack and in front of Peter.”
“The Alpha pack?”
“That thing you and Stiles were planning to do behind my back?”
Scott’s face scrunched up. He gave a sheepish, “Um.”
“Well, when Stiles accidentally turned me invisible last night, let’s just say I moved up the timeline a bit.”
“You mean...” He motioned to the bag. “You have their underwear in there?”
Derek stared up at the dark grey sky and prayed for patience. “I did not steal underwear. I took something that will guarantee they will listen. Now, will you stand at my right hand today?”
“I’m not –”
Derek held up his hand. “Save me the ‘you are not my Alpha’ speech. I got it. This is about defending our territory. Beacon Hills is ours. Yours and mine. We don’t have to be in the same pack to defend it together.”
“Do you believe that?”
“We’re going to prove it today.” Derek’s voice was deadly serious. “Are you with me?”
Scott had a strange habit of letting his face tell everyone what was happening in his head. It was really something he should work on, but for now Derek was grateful he could read him so easily.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he said, a pleased grin lighting up his face. “Let’s tell these fuckers to get out of our town.”
Derek tapped Scott’s shoulder with his fist, enjoying the rare moment of shared purpose. “I think for the first time we might just understand each other.”
Derek started walking in the direction of his family home. “But first,” he said with a smirk, “I’d really like to annoy Peter.”
--
The pack was already assembled.
Peter was leaning casually against the front door. He did his best to hide his surprise as Derek strode out from the trees with Scott only a step behind, but Derek didn’t miss the flash of panic.
Erica and Isaac were sprawled on the steps, leaning against each other and looking half-asleep. Jackson and Boyd stood at either end of the porch, posturing, fangs bared.
It was no wonder the Alpha pack had come. Derek’s motley group of wayward teenagers hardly inspired fear at the moment. But he knew they were more than this. Better than the Alpha pack gave them credit for.
They’d each risked their lives for each other more than once. And, with the exception of Peter, they’d earned his trust. The fact that their worth was even being questioned infuriated him. It was going to end today.
He roared.
It had the desired effect. The pack, as one, stepped forward to greet him, each falling into line. Even Erica kept her mouth shut as they waited for him to speak.
“We are meeting with the Alpha pack this afternoon,” he said, and paused long enough for them to mutter their surprise. He wasn’t going to repeat himself. “Scott and I will negotiate the terms of a treaty with them.”
“You and Scott?” Peter’s eyebrows rose as he stepped down from the porch to join the group.
Derek went on as if he hadn’t heard. “Our terms will be that they leave Beacon Hills immediately and don’t come back unless they are invited to do so by either of us.”
He turned to Scott who nodded his agreement.
Jackson spoke first. “Sorry but what? Why would they agree to that, again? We have nothing to offer in exchange. Unless we’re offering them McCall. I’d be fine with that.”
“In exchange for them leaving, I’ll agree not to make their lives a living hell and get them on the shit list of every relevant pack in the country.” Derek smirked. “Trust me. They’ll agree.”
He didn’t wait for questions. Instead, he said to Scott. “Scott? Your computer has a scanner, right?”
Scott grinned, picking up Derek's meaning. "I do."
“We’re heading there, then.” He turned to the group. “We’ll be back here at eleven thirty. We’ll arrive together. I expect this to be peaceful, but prepare yourselves for anything. If you have something booked for today, cancel it now. You’ll get time for yourselves after this is all over.”
The pack dispersed, whispering to each other. He was pleased to note they sounded more curious and excited than skeptical.
There was one thing he needed to do before he left with Scott, though.
He caught Peter by the back of the neck before he could disappear into the house. He dug in his claws until Peter bowed his head in submission. He leaned in, his lips almost touching Peter’s ear. “If you ever try to set me up again, I’ll rip your throat out and cut your body into so many pieces, there’ll be no coming back.” His claws dug deeper and Peter whined. Derek’s fingers were dripping with blood. He shoved him towards the house. “You will not utter a word during the negotiations or I will make an example of you.”
Peter held his hand to the wounds in his neck. “You smell like him, you know.”
Derek crossed his arms over his chest, face blank. Peter didn’t deserve anything more to speculate with.
Peter shook his head, amused. “I’m disappointed in myself. I didn’t see it coming.”
Derek let that stand uncorrected.
--
Every member of both packs showed for the meeting. Derek’s chest puffed as he and Scott made their way across the field with his pack standing tall and menacing behind him. At the moment, he felt they made as intimating a picture as the Alpha pack. Though he knew in a fight, his betas lacked the raw power of an Alpha wolf.
He wasn’t worried. This wouldn’t come down to fangs and claws. His black bag was clutched in his right hand; it was the only weapon he’d need.
Derek spent the afternoon drafting up a treaty while Scott scanned page after page of dirt on all the largest packs in the region. They didn’t have time to do them all but they got enough. Plenty enough that Derek could do major damage to the Alpha pack’s reputation should they be uncooperative. It seemed the pack's leader wasn't content to just test a pack's strength, it seemed he had a habit of noting every intimate detail he could find about each pack he encountered -- way more than he should keep lying around in a notebook.
“Derek Hale. Scott McCall.” The leader stepped forward. He had an imposing half-foot and likely about twenty years on Derek. His dark hair was streaked with grey. “I am Stephen Henrick. I speak for this Alpha pack. I think you have something of mine.”
Derek grinned, all teeth. “You’re welcome to it.”
“On what condition?” It was the woman at Henrick’s side who apparently wasn’t worthy of an introduction. Derek took note and focused back on Henrick. Status counted for everything today.
“I speak for the Beacon Hills territory and all the packs therein.” He handed Henrick a sheet of paper outlining the conditions. “We’ll return both books to you.”
“Unread?”
Derek raised an eyebrow. They didn’t honestly think he was that stupid. “Digital copies of your journal have been made, and backups held in safe keeping. A little guarantee that you will keep up your end of the bargain.”
“And who’s to say that you won’t use that information against us the moment I leave your town limits?”
“I was in your house last night. I could have done anything. Trust me, if I’d wanted you dead, you’d already be dead.” Derek flashed his eyes red, just for an instant. “I want...” He looked to Scott. “We want our town back. You leave. No blood is shed. We’ll keep your secrets and you agree not to return unless invited by either me or Scott.”
Henrick’s eyes narrowed but he took a moment to read the agreement. It was reasonable -- a simple exchange with no excessive demands. The wind whipped the sheets as Henrick read. Derek felt the first drop of rain.
Henrick made eye contact with the woman at his side. At her nod, he said, “Do you have a pen?”
Scott dug deep into his pocket for a ballpoint.
It was all formality after that. A few handshakes were exchanged and Derek handed over the books. The Alpha pack turned to leave just as it began to rain; Derek’s pack, together with Scott, stood in the lacrosse field, ignoring the rain pouring down on them until the Alpha pack was finally out of sight.
“Good,” Boyd said. “We needed some rain.”
--
Derek was soaked to the bone by the time he made it to Stiles’ house. He had stopped Scott from sending Stiles a text. It had been Stiles’ plan and it worked. Derek wanted to tell him that in person. But more than that, it was where he wanted to be at the moment. And that truth was a bit too raw, a bit too new to poke at just yet. He tucked it away and stared up at the Stilinskis' modest home.
Rain pelted the hot roof, making everything the misty grey of twilight, even though it was only mid-afternoon. The Sheriff was in the living room, snoring softly with the TV on low. The window to Stiles’ room was open and Derek wasn’t sure how to interpret that. It could mean anything. Then again it was pouring rain, so he’d assume it meant he was expected -- not that he ever worried about that before. Stiles was awake. Derek could hear him moving around his room.
He crept in and stood dripping by the windowsill until Stiles looked over.
“Hey!” He smiled, did a quick head-to-toe once-over for injuries, and the smile grew. “You’re not dead.”
Stiles’ face was ridiculous, barely contained excitement brightening his eyes. It reminded him of times he’d once had and had long forgotten.
Derek fought the grin that tugged at his lips. When Stiles caught it, his fist pumped the air. He jumped high enough Derek was sure the thud as he landed would wake the Sheriff.
“It worked?”
“They’re gone.” Derek rolled his eyes but relief mixed with Stiles’ insanity was making him a bit stupid and he was sure Stiles saw right through his surly tone.
“Fuck yes!” Stiles swung his hips in some kind of victory dance. Derek huffed, making a point of looking annoyed and wondered at Stiles’ ability to be so carefree.
“The room looks good,” Derek said once Stiles stopped dancing.
“Thanks.” Stiles beamed, looking a bit like he could take on the world.
“Feeling better, then?”
“Slept like a log up until about an hour ago. I was so wiped, man.” Stiles straightened the pile of books on his desk, not quite meeting Derek’s eye all of a sudden. “So yeah, better.”
Derek nodded, at a loss for anything better to say. Maybe he should leave. “I should--” A breeze blew in from the window, catching Derek in the back and he shivered in his wet clothes.
Stiles must have been watching him closely because he was across the room in a second. “Ah, man.” He slid the window shut. “Sorry about that. I had the window open for—Anyway. Look at you. You’re soaked. Here.” Digging through his drawers, Stiles started tossing various bits of clothing on his bed. “Here’s some stuff that might fit.”
“Are you taking care of me now?” Derek asked, genuinely confused. “Like you take care of Scott and your dad?”
Stiles blushed. “Dude, are you kidding?” He went back to digging in his drawers even though the pile on his bed already had four shirts and two pairs of sweatpants. “This is entirely selfish. You are dripping all over my carpet and my dad might think that’s considered a mess and go for the Friday night heart attack special.”
Derek frowned as he picked through the clothing and found the least offensively colored t-shirt on Stiles’ bed. He peeled off his soaked shirt and rolled it into a ball, not really sure where to put it. He tossed it in the corner by the closet.
“Totally selfish,” Stiles whimpered, his eyes trained on Derek’s chest.
Derek paused. His arms were in Stiles’ shirt but he hadn’t yet pulled it on. Was this flirting? His mind blanked completely on how it was done. He thought back, trying to remember if he’d ever managed anything other than threatening or manipulating.
He put on his shirt to avoid responding. He was terrible at this. “I should go.”
“It’s still raining.”
Derek stared out the window. It was coming down harder now. A couple inches of water covered the street, rushing to lower ground like a shallow river. Too much water in too short a time and the storm sewers couldn’t whisk it away fast enough. “It might not let up for hours.”
“So? You’re welcome to just hang out, you know? No life or death situation or a botched spell required.”
“I-- Thank you.” It was tempting. Probably more tempting than it had any right to be. “But I can’t. I have things--” The lie turned stale in his mouth.
Stiles frowned. “So this is what we’re going to do now?” He sighed, waving his hands between the two of them. “Awkwardness?”
“You seem pretty good at it.” Derek’s lips curled up at the edges.
“Says the king of anti-social skills.”
Derek replied with a raised eyebrow, grateful one look was all that was required now that he was no longer invisible.
Stiles’ mouth opened and closed, soundlessly. “You know what? Fuck it.” Stiles stepped forward with a look so intense Derek had to resist stepping backward. Stiles’ heart sounded like the frantic beat of a rabbit’s. It made Derek’s want to rise to match it.
“That’s right, Derek. Fuck. It.”
Then Stiles was right there, his hands wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck. Their faces slammed together in a rough press of lips. Derek melted into it, even though it lacked any grace, any gentleness whatsoever. What it said was all that mattered. Stiles wanted this.
“There,” Stiles said, a bit hysterical. “I’m glad you didn’t get killed today.” His eyes went wide like he’d just issued a challenge, like he’d just invented communication.
Stiles moved around a lot. Sometimes it gave Derek a headache, sometimes it made him dizzy. Right now, with Stiles fidgeting and nervous, about to run, it was pissing Derek off. He cradled Stiles’ chin until he stilled.
Kissing wasn’t something he’d ever paid much attention to with any of his hookups. Strangers in seedy hotels, in the toilets of bars. Kissing was something he did if he had to. Just another thing that Kate had turned to ash for him. But there was something in the way Stiles never seemed to calm that made Derek want to do this properly. He moved in what felt like slow motion and made it his mission to kiss Stiles until he stopped moving, stopped thinking. Until he felt as dazed and stupid as Derek felt right now.
The first touch was gentle, a few barely-there brushes of lips. Stiles immediately struggled to deepen the kiss, but Derek kept himself just out of reach, kept the kiss achingly slow until Stiles whined for more.
Derek hummed at the sound and tickled Stiles' bottom lip with his tongue. He felt heat rush through him at the first sweet taste. Kate had been vicious, hot and cruel, biting until his lips bled and his eyes stung. He’d been young and confused about how this was supposed to go, how it was supposed to feel. It took a long time to realize how it wasn’t suppose to feel (like your guts had been ripped out and put on display for everyone to mock).
He wouldn’t be that person for Stiles. He kissed Stiles like he was precious.
Only when Stiles finally, finally settled into the softness of the kiss did Derek deepen it.
Their tongues made first tentative contact and the shock of it made his dick jump. He let go of his control as his passion flared. His hands were suddenly everywhere. His cock was trapped in cold, wet jeans but Stiles didn’t seem to care. He pressed them together, Stiles’ thigh snug between Derek’s.
It felt like his first kiss. Clichéd as it was, he couldn’t remember a single one that had made his body come alive like this. When he pulled back, Stiles’ eyes were glazed over. He was licking at his wet lips like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
“I’m glad you didn’t get anyone killed with your stupid plan,” Derek said, because he was, and also because he wanted to hear Stiles squawk.
Stiles did. His forehead fell forward to rest on Derek’s chin. “Brilliant plan you mean,” he said between breaths.
Derek kissed the spikey top of his head and whispered, “Yeah.” This was all right, he thought to himself. He could do this. It didn’t stop him from shivering, though. He kissed Stiles chastely on his cheek, then his jaw.
“We should--” Stiles pushed him back, until Derek’s knees hit the edge of the bed. Stiles’ mouth found his and they lost themselves again. Stiles’ hands were hot on his skin as they wandered under Derek’s shirt. “Yeah, we should get your wet clothes off.” He nipped at the stubble at Derek’s chin. “You’re cold.”
He wasn’t cold. He swallowed his denial, as Stiles pulled off his completely dry t-shirt and began biting at his shoulder.
“Stiles,” Derek said, a bit helpless. He didn’t want to stop, so when Stiles hesitated, Derek reached for the hem of Stiles’ shirt.
“Yeah.” Stiles grinned and nodded, helping Derek get it off. “But seriously. Not to be all forward or anything, but your jeans are soaking through my jeans. Can we?” His cheeks went blotchy red at the jawline. It started to creep down his neck. Derek felt a hand rest on his belt buckle, waiting.
“Yes.” Derek blinked. “If you want. We don’t need to--” Derek cleared his throat. “It’s okay to take this slow.” He reached for Stiles’ belt.
“Sure. Slow.” Stiles stood in his boxers and bit his lip as he watched Derek pry off his too tight, too wet jeans. It wasn’t done elegantly. “I think we should just, um, get under the covers. You’re still cold.”
Derek smirked and watched Stiles’ hard on strain awkwardly in his boxers as he pushed all the clothes piled on his bed onto the floor.
“Oh god, remind me to clean that up later,” Stiles said, lifting the covers so Derek could slip in beside him.
It was hot beneath the blanket; the bed smelled so much of Stiles, Derek was flooded with memories of waking that morning, not alone for once. Stiles was there and almost naked, touching Derek like it was Derek who was the virgin, Derek who needed the gentle hand. Feather light kisses peppered Derek’s cheeks, jaw and neck.
Derek tensed, overwhelmed.
“This okay?” Stiles couldn’t hide the nervous hitch to his voice.
It was enough to snap Derek out of it. “Too good.” He wrapped his hand around Stiles’ nape and kissed him soundly. They were pressed together, naked thighs and chests, the thin cotton of their boxers. He could kiss like this all afternoon.
He let his hand wander to Stiles' ass, feeling the soft, worn fabric beneath his fingers. Stiles shifted, rolling his hips against Derek’s groin. They gasped into each other’s mouths, kissing and licking, changing from slow and sweet to fast and desperate.
At one point they kicked off the covers and Stiles moved to straddle Derek’s waist, and that was even better. Stiles squirmed in all the right ways, making Derek’s hips snap upwards. They were a bit lost after that. Their kisses became more open-mouthed and sloppy. They breathed each other’s air as they rocked together in search of more friction.
Stiles had to pull away from kissing to catch his breath. “Too much,” he whined.
“We could stop.” He’d meant to say should stop, but his mouth wasn’t working properly.
“Don’t wanna.” Stiles was never still, hands and mouth touching everywhere like he couldn’t get enough. “You’re a really, really fucking good kisser.” He caught Derek’s mouth and writhed, grinding their cocks together as they kissed.
Derek’s hands clutched Stiles’ hips to... stop him? Help him? Derek was too far gone to think clearly about his intentions. He felt his balls stir, then tighten. He couldn’t even get a warning out before his breath was stolen away and he was coming in his shorts. Above him Stiles whimpered, ever in motion, until he wasn’t. A final trust and his body suddenly locked. The sound he made was something Derek would remember for a long time.
He resisted the instinct to bite, to mark. It was all moving way too fast. But nothing about this felt wrong. When he came back to himself it felt nothing like his first time. No shame. No worry. No secrets. He lay back and watched Stiles’ flushed face, his mouth hanging open. Then Stiles shifted, rocking their softening cocks together in a blinding moment of over-stimulation and pleasure.
“Holy fuck that was hot.”
Derek chuckled into the crook of Stiles’ neck. Because, yeah, it was. He let his eyes fall shut with a smile on his face and tried not to pout when Stiles clambered off him.
A moment later a Kleenex box landed on the bed. He cleaned up sleepily and filled the trash. He settled back on the headboard, wishing Stiles was curled at his side like he’d been that morning. He could tell, even before it began, that Stiles was going to be chatty, a bundle of unnatural post-orgasm energy.
“Your father will be up soon. I should go.”
“You’ll hear him, right? You’ll have time to hide in the closet.”
Derek wrinkled his nose. “It smells in there.”
That ripped a laugh from Stiles. He leaned in and kissed Derek. Then Stiles was off again, grabbing his clothes from the floor and shoving them haphazardly into drawers that wouldn’t shut properly afterwards.
When the floor was cleared, he sat on the bed, his face serious. “Were you tempted? When Peter was trying to get you to bite me.”
“I—” How could he answer that? Part of him was tempted. “You’d make a good wolf.”
“I’d make an amazing wolf.”
Derek smirked. “We have our own code, if you want to call it that. I won’t become like Peter – do what Peter did to Scott. I won’t bite someone who doesn’t want it. The bite is a gift.”
Tracing a finger down Derek’s sweat-slicked chest, Stiles said, “And you know I’d be nothing but trouble for you if you bit me without my say so.”
“You’d be trouble either way.”
“Yeah.” Stiles beamed at Derek. “I totally would.”
“If you wanted it... If I offered?”
“I don’t want it.”
“Okay.” Derek didn’t need to know more than that. There was no hesitation, no sign of a lie.
“Okay?” Stiles' fingers stopped moving. “Even though you think the pack would be stronger?”
“I already knew you didn’t want the bite.” Derek held his gaze. Stiles couldn’t hear the truth in Derek’s heartbeat but hopefully he saw it in his eyes. “It’s not an issue, Stiles. It was Peter who was trying to make it one.”
Stiles seemed to believe him because he nodded and stretched out bedside Derek, tangling their legs together. They were quiet for a long time and Derek dozed, listening to the rain, the quiet noise of the TV downstairs and Sheriff’s snores.
Eventually Stiles lifted his head. “Scott won’t ever join your pack.”
Derek shrugged. “We do alright as we are.”
Stiles let his head rest again like he understood. Maybe he did. Maybe it was Derek that was the last to understand what Stiles and Scott had been offering him.
He turned to watch through the rain streaked window as night fell. The forest would be fresh and washed anew by morning. Maybe Stiles would go for a run with him.
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Date: 2012-12-07 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-07 03:22 am (UTC)I love love loved writing for you bb!!!!! Sorry, haven't managed to reply to any AO3 comments yet but i was so so thrilled that you liked it. *beams*
Plotty fics are not my comfort zone but i really enjoyed trying these characters on and seeing how they ticked. <3
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Date: 2012-12-07 02:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-07 05:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-07 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-07 11:31 pm (UTC)<3 <3 <3
no subject
Date: 2012-12-08 01:35 am (UTC)