These Idiots

Which is to say: the coffee tastes burnt, the fridge is making a noise that sounds ominously sentient, and Peter is sitting at the kitchen island wearing Derek’s hoodie like he owns it.

Cora is there too, perched on the counter, swinging her legs and scrolling through her phone.

Stiles is also there.

Which is, Derek realizes belatedly, probably the problem.

Stiles is pacing.

Not the usual Stiles pacing, either. This is aggressive pacing. Arms flailing, words spilling out faster than Derek can track, socked feet slapping against the loft floor like he’s trying to wear a groove into it.

“I’m just saying,” Stiles says, gesturing wildly at absolutely nothing, “if you’re going to ignore your phone for twelve hours, maybe you could consider the fact that I might assume you’re dead? Or kidnapped? Or dead and kidnapped?”

“I was at the shop,” Derek says, evenly. Calmly. Patiently. Like a man who has had this argument before. “My phone died.”

Stiles spins on him. “Phones don’t just die, Derek. They give warnings. They blink. They vibrate. They cry out for help.”

Peter hums into his mug. “That last one might be projection.”

Cora snorts.

Derek shoots Peter a look. “Why are you still here?”

Peter smiles sweetly. “Your hospitality is unmatched.”

“Get your own coffee.”

“I did.” Peter taps the mug. “From your cabinet.”

Stiles throws his hands up. “See? This is what I’m talking about. Zero boundaries. No communication. Absolute emotional negligence.”

Derek frowns. “Why are you this upset?"

Stiles opens his mouth.

Closes it.

Opens it again.

“Well maybe,” Stiles says, voice rising just a little, “because when you disappear without telling me, my brain immediately decides you’ve run off on some reckless alpha martyr mission and I don’t find out until I’m identifying a body and-”

“I left you a note,” Derek says.

“You left me a Post-it that said ‘Back later.’”

“That is a note.”

“That is a threat.”

Cora leans toward Peter. “Is this-”

Peter nods. “Yes.”

Derek rubs his temples. “Stiles. I was gone half a day.”

“Half a day is six hours too long when you have a habit of almost dying,” Stiles snaps. “Sorry that I care about you.”

There it is.

The silence lands like a dropped plate.

Stiles freezes.

Derek freezes.

Peter slowly lowers his mug.

Cora blinks.

Stiles swallows, eyes wide, and then - because this is Stiles Stilinski and there is no off switch - he barrels straight through it.

“I mean obviously I care,” Stiles says quickly. Too quickly. “Because you’re, you know…you. And you’re important. And if something happened to you it would be bad. For me. Emotionally. Like, devastatingly bad. World-ending bad. Can’t-breathe bad. Which is normal. For friends. Best friends. Or…whatever we are.”

Derek’s brain has left the building.

Peter’s eyebrows are somewhere near his hairline.

Cora looks between them. “Wait,” she says slowly. “You’re not together?”

Stiles laughs. A little hysterically. “What? No. Why would we-”

Peter cuts in, delighted. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Derek croaks, “What?”

Cora hops off the counter. “We thought you were dating.”

Stiles stares at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

Peter gestures vaguely between Derek and Stiles. “The domesticity. The way you argue like an old married couple. The fact that Stiles sleeps here more than at his father’s house.”

“I sleep on the couch!” Stiles protests.

“With his hoodie as a pillow,” Peter says. “And his scent soaked into it.”

Derek’s ears are burning.

Cora shrugs. “Also you pack his lunch.”

“I pack everyone’s lunch!”

“You cut the crusts off his sandwiches.”

Stiles’ mouth opens. Closes. “He doesn’t like crusts.”

Derek mutters, “They’re unnecessary.”

Peter beams. “See? Courtship.”

Stiles turns slowly toward Derek. “Did you think that we were dating too?”

Derek finally finds his voice. “I…no. well…I didn’t-”

“You didn’t think to mention that?” Stiles demands.

Derek looks miserable. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?!"

“That I-” Derek stops. Breathes. Tries again. “That I like you.”

The world stops.

Stiles’ face goes completely blank.

“Oh,” he says.

Peter hums. “There it is.”

Cora grins. “Told you.”

Stiles’ laugh this time is soft. Disbelieving. “You - wait - you like me?”

Derek nods once. Then, because apparently today is the day of honesty, adds, “A lot.”

Stiles sways slightly. “Cool. Cool cool cool. Because I-” He gestures vaguely at himself. “I may have just accidentally confessed my undying devotion in front of your entire family.”

Peter raises his mug. “We’re touched.”

Cora claps. “This is better than TV.”

Stiles looks at Derek, eyes bright and a little watery. “I like you too. A lot. Like…ridiculously. I just didn’t think-”

Derek steps closer. Careful. Like Stiles might spook.

“I was going to ask you out,” Derek says. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Stiles echoes. “We live together.”

“I wanted to do it right.”

Stiles smiles. Soft and fond and completely undone. “You are doing it right.”

Peter clears his throat loudly. “So. Are we interrupting or-”

“Yes,” Derek and Stiles say in unison.

Cora laughs and heads for the door, grabbing Peter by the arm. “Come on. Let them figure it out.”

Peter allows himself to be dragged, calling over his shoulder, “Use protection! And labels!”

The door closes.

Silence.

Then Stiles exhales a laugh. “Well. That was a thing.”

Derek nods. “We should talk."

“Definitely.”

A beat.

Stiles steps forward and presses a quick, awkward kiss to Derek’s mouth.

Pulls back.

Grins.

“Hi,” he says.

Derek smiles back, slow and warm and absolutely certain. “Hi.”

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/75870946

by Bleedingredthreads (aliyahtamara98x)

Gerard Argent kidnaps Stiles and buries him in an asylum for eleven months. Stiles survives. barely. Derek doesn’t forgive and he definitely doesn’t forget. Healing comes first—then the Hales make sure it never happens again.

Words: 17822, Chapters: 24/24, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Gerard Argent, Allison Argent

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

The Stilinski family;

Ok but what if the reason why Stiles never takes off his many layers of clothes isn’t low self-esteem?

What if there’s another reason?

What if he has a huge scar crossing his back?

What if he has marks he doesn’t want anyone to see?

What if he can’t bear the idea of people staring?

What if he’s afraid of people asking?

What if they’re the most permanent memory his mother’s illness left for him?

What if they are the result of him ignoring his dad's words about “keeping distance from her” because he missed his mom’s hugs?

What if the huge scar was made during a hug between a mother and her son?

What if it happened during their last hug?

What if that was the last time Claudia Stilinski recognized her child?

Melissa is fully giving Derek a run down of the many lethal chemicals she has access to and she finishes like "any questions?" All threatening like and Derek is just "how do I buy furniture? Where does it go? How do I get it home? I don't technically have a driving licence."

Sheriff Stilinski pointing a gun at him and Derek just being, "first, thats not gonna do shit but also can you talk to the dentist for me, I've not been in like 5 years and I don't know what to say."

Derek trying to get over all the hate and just asking the various adults how to re-enroll in highschool cause he never got to finish it and everyone being like "high school? You were in highschool during the fire? How old are you?!??"

He was just as cautious around new people as Stiles was. How he had told Derek he didn’t trust Peter? How much he hated the twins.

My man would have taken one look at Stiles glaring at Theo while Scott patted this weird smelling (Not quite wolf but definitely not human) dude on the back and joined ranks with the human.

Stiles and Isaac duo of stalking Theo into the woods. Watching him warily. Trying to persuade Scott to see what was happening. Stiles is loosing his bestie but Isaac is loosing his alpha/situationship that he had shared with Allison and the both of them try to comfort one another as Scott slips further and further away.

Isaac and Stiles have always had this weird, brotherly “Only I can fuck with him” mentality about one another so when Isaac sees Theo taunting Stiles he sees red. The sass both of them have against the new guy whose breaking apart the pack. Theo’s presence inadvertently solidifies the bond between Stiles and Isaac.

When the Sheriff is lying in bed and Stiles is breaking apart Isaac finally sucks it up and calls Derek. He’s not expecting him to answer but it only has to ring once before he hears the older man on the phone.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks worriedly.

“…It’s the sheriff. Things have been bad. Stiles is… Scott… I don’t know what to do.”

a little companion piece to the meme shenanigans from last friday - some soft parent stiles, as a treat ♡

He didn’t feel broken. Never had. Just built differently.

And then he met Derek Hale.

Derek was the grumpy, broad shouldered, leather wearing disaster Stiles absolutely should not have fallen for. But he did, slowly at first, then all at once. Derek’s signing was clumsy when they met, stiff and unsure. Now it was fluent, soft around the edges, tailored specifically to Stiles. Like a language made just for the two of them.

Derek talked with his hands, and Stiles listened with his heart.

They’d been dating for almost a year when Melissa handed Stiles the file.

“Cochlear implant candidate,” she had signed, mouthing the words as she always did so Stiles could follow her rhythm. “Your hearing nerve looks good. Your brain processes all the right signals. If you want this… you can have it.”

Stiles froze, staring at the paperwork. A cochlear implant. A chance, maybe, to hear.

He didn’t say yes for weeks. Not because he didn’t want it, but because he didn’t know how to imagine it. Because silence wasn’t something he hated… it was simply familiar. And what if the world wasn’t better with sound? What if it was worse?

Derek never pushed him. Not once.

He only signed, Whatever you choose. I’m with you.

That was the thing that did it, in the end.

Stiles scheduled the surgery.

The world after the implant wasn’t miraculous the way movies made it seem. It was pain and pressure and overstimulation and long stretches of confusion. The device had to heal before it could be turned on. Stiles had to wait a month with a foreign thing under his skin, waiting for the day the audiologist would flip the switch.

He didn’t tell Derek he was scared. He didn’t have to. Derek always knew.

And then came activation day.

Stiles and Derek sat in a small, bright room with soft chairs and a machine that felt far too clinical for something that promised so much. Derek sat beside him, knee pressed warm against his. He didn’t try to hold Stiles’ hand, not until Stiles reached for him first.

Here ya go babe! I actually had so much fun with this. @7nessasaryevils TOLD YOU IT WASN'T ANGSTY 😂😂❣️❣️

••••••

Stiles knew, knew, he should’ve shut up somewhere around the third sarcastic comment.

Unfortunately, knowing and doing were two entirely separate skills.

“Should’ve listened,” Derek muttered now, staring down at the six inch tall disaster perched on his kitchen counter.

Stiles sat cross legged beside a waffle that was literally bigger than he was. Like, diner plate big. Syrup glistened in the grooves, and Stiles’ face was sticky, smug, and happy.

“This could’ve gone way worse,” tiny Stiles said cheerfully, tearing off a bite of waffle with both hands. “I could’ve turned into, I don’t know, a frog. Or a cricket. Or Scott.”

Derek blinked once. “I don’t think that witch intended to turn you into Scott.”

“Point stands.”

It had started an hour earlier, when Stiles - big, normal sized Stiles - had decided to argue with a hedge witch they were trying to get information from.

And by “argue,” Derek meant Stiles said the following sentence:

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you need a minute to think up a better lie, or is this your final draft?”

There’d been a flash of green light. A scream from Isaac. And Stiles, shirt and jeans and all, had shrunk like someone pressed a “compact” button.

Now he was… pocket-sized. Fun-sized. Snack-sized.

And thrilled about it.

Derek crossed his arms. “You’re taking this too well.”

“Dude.” Stiles gestured dramatically at the waffle. The waffle he’d demanded Derek make ‘OR HE’LL PERISH OF TINY SCALE STARVATION.’

The SUVs drives away as fast as they came and Stiles immediately panics because Derek is obviously fucking dying. He got shot so many times there’s no other possibility. Derek is white as a sheet, bleeding profusely but somehow he’s still standing.

Stiles’ eyes are fixated on the bullet wounds, his hands frantically going to some of them trying to stop the blood and his mind is so overwhelmed with panic it doesn’t register how viscous and dark the blood is getting, how it doesn’t even look like blood anymore but like tar.

Stiles is babbling about having to call an ambulance and Derek’s knees buckles dragging Stiles down with him on the ground. Stiles searches for his phone with a slippery hand but Derek grabs his wrist and forces him to focus on him and starts to frantically tell Stiles what to do.

“Stiles! Stiles, baby, look at me, breathe okay, grab my phone, come on grab my phone in my pocket, okay you got it, call B- ugh, call Boyd, he’s up there in my contacts, call him, tell him what happened, he’ll come help us, don’t call an ambulance okay, baby… i’m gonna pass out now, don’t be scared, everything’s gonna be okay, i promise…”

The phone is on speaker as it rings and Stiles is shaking Derek and still trying to stop the bleeding, shouting at Derek to wake up, please wake up. He’s covered in black blood that smell vile and he can’t breathe, Derek is dying and he can’t do anything.

Boyd is shouting at Stiles on speakerphone asking what happened, that he’s coming, he knows where they are, to hang tight but Stiles is beyond hysterical by then. He’s sure Derek is dead. It doesn’t look like he’s breathing anymore and he’s cold, so fucking cold.

Boyd, Erica, Isaac and Jackson show up a few minutes later, on foot, running up to Stiles kneeling beside Derek and petting his unnaturally pale face murmuring things through heavy tears.

The betas gets into action immediately, knowing the urgency of the situation while Stiles thinks Derek is well and truly dead. Boyd is on Derek in a moment grabbing him and pulling him up onto a shoulder and starts walking towards the Camaro, Jackson keeping step beside him and opening the door for him so Boyd can set Derek on the passenger seat.

Stiles watches after them blankly until Erica takes him by an arm and drags him up and away also towards the waiting Camaro. He doesn’t resist, too numb to do anything other than look around with wide expressionless eyes.

Erica pushes him into the back seat and follows him in. Boyd takes the driver seat and they’re off, driving so fast Stiles is pushed back into his seat and stuck there, unable to move.

They end up at the local vet. Stiles getting dragged by Erica who’s giving him pointed sidelong glances. He thinks she might be concerned. Boyd takes Derek’s body into a back room when they get into the building, the vet looking like he’s been waiting for their arrival.

Erica sits Stiles in one of the chairs in the waiting room and stays with him until Isaac and Jackson bursts through the doors. They all leave him to go into the backroom for just a few seconds before Boyd comes out of it again and approaches Stiles slowly.

Under the fluorescent lights, Stiles finally noticed the dark stuff drying on his hands, arms, face and clothes. There’s so much. It’s not blood is it? He doesn’t know.

Boyd crouches in front of him and asks if he’d like to wash up. Stiles nods but doesn’t move beyond that.

“They shot him.”

Boyd nods and hums in agreement, watching Stiles closely.

“There was so much blood… oh God he’s dead, he was so cold, he wasn’t breathing…”

Stiles’ hands trembles and he covers his face, feeling hysteria looming close again.

Boyd grabs his wrists and pulls them down. He makes sure Stiles is listening before he gently but very firmly tells Stiles, Derek is alive and will be just fine. They just need to get him to heal.

It doesn’t make any sense, Derek should be dead. He IS dead. Boyd frowns and Stiles realizes he’s saying all of it out loud.

Seemingly coming to a decision, Boyd stands up again and gently pulls Stiles up with him before guiding him to the backroom. Stiles almost balks. He doesn’t want to see it, Derek’s body. He doesn’t want to, please no, please no, please no.

Boyd pushes him thought the swinging door and Derek is laying on an examination table, shirtless. He’s still out but his body looks almost healthy. There’s little scar tissue in some places and it doesn’t make any sense…

He walks to Derek and sits on a stool beside him. Takes one of hands in both of his. It’s warm, really warm. Stiles gasps, tears starting to fall down his cheeks through the drying blackness. He’s alive, he’s breathing, his sternum clearly moving up and down with each breath.

Stiles moves and shifts a little to lay his head onto Derek’s chest. He listens to the steady beat of his heart and his tears fall harder. He pets Derek’s hair with one hand and just looks at Derek’s face, everything else disappearing.

It doesn’t matter that nothing makes sense. Derek is alive. He’s breathing and his heart is beating. Everything’s okay. Just like Derek said it would be before he passed out. Derek never lies to him and he always keeps his promises.

They try to pull Stiles away from Derek to get him to take a shower but Stiles refuses to leave Derek’s side. So Boyd and Erica help him wash up with a lot of wet wipes. Isaac leaves and comes back 20 minutes later with a change of clothes for him.

It takes a good six hours for Derek to wake up. By then his skin is without blemishes, the scar tissue gone entirely. He looks perfect, like he always does.

The first thing out of his mouth the moment he’s awake is Stiles’ name.

“I’m here! I’m right here!” Stiles exclaims and hugs Derek tightly, his whole body shaking.

Derek manhandles Stiles until he can take his face in his hands and look him over.

“You okay? You’re good, baby?” Derek asks, insistently.

Stiles nods, he’s not hurt. He’s okay. Physically at least. Derek who always seems to read him like an open book sighs a little and pulls him to his chest, enfolding him tightly in his arms.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Derek whispers in Stiles’ hair.

Stiles blinks quickly a few times, fighting tears again. Everything is so confusing but there’s one thing that is solid and true; Stiles’ love for Derek and Derek’s love for him.

Stiles stays in Derek’s arms for a long time. The betas standing around them, quiet but alert.

“What are you?” Stiles eventually asks Derek, softly. His words are muffled slightly in Derek’s shoulder.

Derek lets out a long, long sigh. Like this was a long time coming.

He kisses Stiles’ temple before answering.

“I’m a werewolf. An Alpha werewolf and those are my betas. The people who shot at us are Hunters, they hunt my kind and often hunt the humans who fraternizes with us as well.” Derek explains, slowly, matter-of-factly.

Everything seems to rearrange itself and lock into place. Confusion evaporating and letting in clarity.

“oh, okay.” Stiles says.

He snuggles Derek closer and a couple of snorts are heard around them.

Derek runs a hand into Stiles’ hair and kisses his temple again, then smiles into his skin.

Ten minutes later, he has two full pages of notes, a plane ticket, an email to his professors explaining his absence due to a family emergency, and, apparently, medical power of attorney for a werewolf no one knew was back in California. If Derek lives through this— and he had better— Stiles is going to kill him.

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/72733321

by DaisyBeats

Stiles has settled into a quiet life at the Seattle FBI field office, where he spends some of his days giving talks and mentoring students.

One of those students, Eli, is curious, clever, and strangely familiar - though Stiles can’t figure out why

Words: 14829, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Eli Hale (Teen Wolf), Derek Hale, Peter Hale

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Eli Hale & Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Reunions, Slow Burn, Friendship, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Single Parent Derek Hale, Good Peter Hale, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Aftermath of Violence, Injured Stiles Stilinski, Found Family, Soft

This scene from IDOL performance by SAJA BOYS clicked something in my brain and I wanted to make a version with my favorite demon boi...

"Is he okay?"

"I... think? I just... Would you please come over here? Now." Derek is already halfway into the Camaro.

"Is he hurt?!" He demands, speeding out of the parking lot.

"Hurt... No. I just... I'm asking for your trust in coming straight to the back of the school. I think it would... be better not to let the front know and better to not upset the other children." Derek's heartbeat is pounding against his chest as he brakes every speeding law there is to get the school in under 8 minutes.

Stiles is still on the phone and Derek can hear Eli sobbing in the background. He sails out of the car and rushes to the back door where a very flustered and exhausted looking man with moles and big doe eyes is holding his half shifted and wailing 3 year old.

Stiles? The teacher, gives him a long hard look and Derek feels his stomach plummet as he realizes Eli just shifted for the first time in his life. He runs towards them, taking his son from the human's arms.

"So... I can't say I've been a teacher for very long but I have seen my fair share of unique characteristics and I must confess... Glowing yellow eyes and reconstructed facial features is a new one." Stiles says in forced calmness.

"How did... I... Did anyone else-"

"No one else saw. One of the other boys pushed him to the ground and he just laid there crying. I went to help him up and saw he was... like this and I brought him out here immediately. Luckily he's memorized your phone number because I used my personal cell to call you."

"I-I'm so-"

"Werewolf. Right? Please, for the love of god tell me that's what's happening right now. Please tell me I'm not going insane. I-It runs in my family actually... You know. M-My mother. Th-This is real right?" Derek can only nod, anxiety and fear wrapping around him. All he can think of is the hunters. Of Kate coming for his son. If Stiles decides to tell anyone-

"Thank god. I thought maybe when I accidentally dropped him earlier-"

"You dropped him!?" Derek snarls. Stiles eyes narrow, his finger coming up to stab Derek in the shoulder.

"Hey! You're the one who sent a baby werewolf to Pre-K without informing any staff, buddy. Let's not play this off as me being the irresponsible one today!"

"Dadda, don be mean to 'Tiles." Eli hiccups, pudgy arms reaching back out to his teacher and Stiles pulls him back to his chest not even hesitating in the face of small, glinting fangs and sharpened claws.

"Yeah! Be nice to the very breakable human. Do you even know what was going through my head when I saw a half wolf baby lying on the ground in my group of 3-5 year olds? I'm 23 dude. I just got an ulcer from this."

"Don't call me dude." Derek hisses. But there's no bite to it as he watches Stiles bounce Eli on his hip. Making soothing and shushing noises that work to calm him as the shift slowly starts to fall away. "He's never... I didn't know he could..." He tries, a little hurt that Eli was not clinging to him the way he was now burying his face into Stiles neck.

"Ah." Stiles says, his voice softening as he seems to understand. "He just got the superpowers then. Wasn't always wolfie inclined?" Derek doesn't know what to say except that this human was taking the introduction into the supernatural a hell of a lot better than he could have hoped. "It's got to be painful, right? I've seen Eli fall before, he's a tough little guy. He wasn't crying because he got pushed..."

"It... It gets easier but yes. It hurts." Stiles nods solemnly as he gently rubs soothing circles down the toddlers back.

"So... Now that I know I don't need to call the CDC... What now?"

"Now?" Derek asks, guard back up.

"He can't go back to class today. You just said it hurt. I think he needs to go home and rest."

"NO!" Eli sobs, claws digging into Stile's white button-up hard enough to draw blood. "Want 'Tiles!" Eli cries, clinging to the human with unnatural strength. Derek rushes forward to pull him away but Stiles lifts his hand up to stop him, wincing but not even trying to dislodge the tiny fists from his shoulder.

"Hey... Eli, buddy. It's okay. You're not in trouble. I'm just worried because you were in pain."

"Want 'Tiles!" Eli chokes back. "Don't hurt wit 'Tiles." Derek's chest tightens when Stiles turns to look back at him questioningly.

"I..." Derek starts, not even really able to believe the words himself. "I think you're his anchor."

No but really, why don’t we talk about this?  How he socks him GOOD, not just a light punch, and Scott has to pull him back to KEEP HIM FROM DOING MORE.  THIS RIGHT HERE FOLKS, this is our first view of that rage he hides behind the humor.  THIS IS WHY I WRITE HIS WOLF AS SO AGGRESSIVE, because take away the sarcasm coping mechanism and you have a truly fucked up kid.  A kid who holds it together for his friends and dad.  A kid who had to grow up fast.  A kid who saw way too much of the worst this world has to offer even before he knew werewolves were a thing.