#chelshock

Oh. Derek pries himself up onto one elbow, forcing his eyes open though he already knows, from the absence of another heartbeat, and way the bed feels empty next to him, that he’s alone. It’s disappointing, though Derek knows he shouldn’t have expected any more from a hookup. He wouldn’t have even been at the club if Kira hadn’t dragged him out. Still, he thinks, dropping back onto his stomach, burying his face in the sheets. They’re saturated with omega scent, mixed with his own; just a lungful makes his entire body tingle. Still. He had fun, but it would have been nice to get a name. He can barely even remember the guy’s face, just a wide smile and dark hair and elegant fingers.

Derek sighs a little and rolls onto his back, swiping at the floor until he finds his phone again. He lifts it into his line of vision, seeking the time, and freezes at the photo set as the background. It’s an ass - a nice ass - viewed from above, all creamy skin flecked with dark moles. Derek vaguely remembers taking the photo while knotted inside him, remembers squeezing that soft flesh between his fingers, remembers spanking it red while the omega moaned underneath him.

His dick, already hard from waking up surrounded by that heady omega scent, twitches, and Derek shoves a guilty hand under the sheets, jerking off to the memory of a stranger. He hadn’t been like any omega that Derek had ever met; loud and confident - if he hadn’t been on the edge of his heat, Derek probably would have mistaken him for an alpha. Derek just wishes he had more than a photograph to remember him by.

-

“You gonna try to find him?” Cora asks a couple days later. They’re out at lunch in the city, Derek’s treat - it’s always his treat, apparently; “older brother privilege,” according to Cora.  

“No,” Derek says absently. He hears his sister scoff and looks at her sharply. “Why?”

“Because you’ve only checked your phone about a thousand times since we sat down,” Cora retorts. “You expecting him to call?”

“Er, no,” Derek says awkwardly, hurriedly locking the screen. “No - ” Cora grabs at his phone, snatching out of his unsuspecting fingers. “Cora, don’t - ”

Cora swipes the screen open with a triumphant smirk, replaced almost immediately by a look of horror. “Oh my god,” she cries, flinging the phone back at Derek. “I need eye bleach, stat.”

Derek scowls at her, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Maybe that’s what you deserve for prying.”

Cora rolls her eyes. “Whatever. At least I’m not an obsessive weirdo. If you’re not going to try to find him, why are you holding onto the picture?”

Derek shrugs. Because it’s a good memory, maybe. Because he’s been jerking off to it twice a day, more likely. That’s not weird, is it? Maybe a little.

Cora leans one elbow on the cafe table, a mad glint in her dark eyes. “So you don’t know his name, can’t remember his face - all you’ve got this that picture of his butt? Should we make posters? Have you seen this butt? There could be a reward and everything.”

“Cora,” Derek groans.

“The great butt quest,” Cora says giddily. “One butt to rule them all.”

Derek groans again. “Just drop it, okay?”

-

Surprisingly, Cora drops it, but Derek doesn’t. He gets - not obsessive, he’s not obsessed, all right? He’d just like to see the omega again, if he can, maybe suck his dick. The next time Kira asks him if he wants to the club, Derek goes along willingly, hooks up with a pale-skinned omega. He can barely contain his disappointment when the omega pulls down his boxers and his skin’s smooth, unmarred by freckles. There’s nothing wrong with the sex, but it just isn’t like the night Derek spent with the omega he’s starting to think of as his.

He says no to the next invitation. Cora says he’s being a big baby, but Derek ignores her. He’s an adult; he can not go out if he doesn’t want to. And just to prove to her that he can make his own decisions, he accepts when Kira invites him to her place for a barbecue. He doesn’t know her friends - they’re just work friends - but he’s met her boyfriend Scott a couple of times, and he seems like a good guy.

No one answers the door when Derek arrives at the house, but there’s a commotion coming from the backyard so he makes his way around the back of the house. The first thing he sees is Kira’s boyfriend crouched behind a bush, a neon water gun in his arms, a serious look on his face. Kira’s kneeling by the house, giggling. She waves when she sees Derek.

“C’mon, man!” Scott yells, startling Derek. “We’ve got you surrounded!”

“I’ll never surrender, alpha scum!” a bush halfway across the yard yells back. There’s a wild rustling of leaves and then a brown-haired young man springs to his feet. He too is holding a water gun, which he aims directly at Derek, and hits him right in the face with a spray of cold water.

As Derek sputters and spits water, Scott gets to his feet, laughing uproariously. “Wrong person, dude!” he calls across the yard. Derek’s assailant blinks, lowering his gun.

“Huh? Who - ”

“Gimme that,” Derek growls, jerking the water gun out of Scott’s arms. He shoots at the brown-haired kid, soaking him down the front. Scott howls with laughter as Derek’s victim scowls down at his soaked clothes.

“Sorry about that,” Kira says, laughing almost as hard as Scott. “Stiles was supposed to pick up the charcoal for the grill, but he brought these instead.” She hefts her own water gun cheerfully, the water inside sloshing around.

“Hey, these are awesome,” Stiles - apparently - calls across the yard. “Scott, can I borrow some clothes?”

Scott waves him off and turns to Derek with a grin. “You want a dry shirt, man? Sorry you got caught in the crossfire. Just follow Stiles - I got to get the grill started.”

Derek nods and heads toward the house, Kira beaming at him as he goes. He’s just in time to see Stiles disappear upstairs, so he follows him into the master bedroom. Stiles doesn’t seem to know he’s being followed, though, for he shoves his wet shorts down and - Derek freezes, eyes snapping to that stretch of bare skin. He knows that ass.

“Excuse me?” Stiles says, whipping his head around - Derek had apparently said that out loud.

Derek flushes. “I - I think we - ”

Recognition washes over Stiles’ face. “You’re the alpha,” he breathes, turning around. Derek valiantly tries to keep his eyes on Stiles’ face. It’s mostly a losing battle. “God, I’ve been thinking about you for weeks.”

“Why’d you leave, then?” Derek asks. His sheets stopped smelling like the omega - like Stiles - days ago.

Stiles smiles sheepishly. “The heat fucked my head up,” he admits. “I was halfway through it before I realized I hadn’t left a note. Didn’t even get your name.”

“Derek,” he breathes, taking a step forward. “I’m Derek.”