#sterekcanon

"Derek more can be wrong with sex than just pain."

"What does that even mean? Do you want me to stop or no. If so I'm completely fine with that, you know that Stiles. Just tell me what I'm doing wrong." He sounded slightly angry until the last part betrayed his self doubt.

Stiles took a deep breath. "You're being too rough."

Derek's face was shocked. Stiles didn't grab him this time when he pulled out. "Fuck Stiles! I thought you said I wasn't hurting you!" Derek's eyes searched Stiles' skin in a frenzy looking for bruises or blood.

"And you didn't."

Derek looked up at him again. "Oh. Oh! I- I um- it seemed- I mean I thought- I thought you liked it?" Derek self consciously bunched up the sheet around his waist.

"I did. God did I love it. Especially the part when you slammed the bedroom door and then me against it then had me jump up. Fuck. Meeee! That was hot. Like seriously I am going to dream about that for months."

"What? Stiles stop lying! You're confusing me."

Stiles put a comforting hand on Derek's thigh and stroked it with his thumb. "I'm not lying." He grabbed Derek's hand and put it over his heart. "You did not hurt me. I did enjoy it."

Derek squinted like somehow he missed a lie.

"I just don't think you did. I think the person being hurt by that wasn't me." Stiles looked at him with sadness. "It was you."

Derek looked at him deadpan. "Werewolf Stiles."

Stiles lightly hit his chest. "Not what I meant, asshat." Stiles looked serious again. "I just don't think you were enjoying it like I was."

"Could you not feel how hard I was for you?" Derek said it blaśe, but it made Stiles blush.

"Yup. Definitely. I could feel it, all up in my business. And pressed against my thigh earlier. Yup definitely. For sure. And I liked that too. That was great. An-"

Derek could see Stiles collect himself to get back on track. He took a deep breath.

"I think you enjoyed fucking me, not how you were fucking me."

Derek stared blankly. "I think you were thinking too much when you should've been focused on being fucked. Is there seriously a difference?"

"Yes Derek. You can fuck different ways just as much as you can fuck different people."

Derek nodded bitterly. "Right, and you don't like how I fuck."

Stiles groaned. "No, I love how you fuck, but it doesn't feel like you love it."

Derek sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I know we've only been dating for a little bit, and you wanted this to be great, but I have no idea what you mean. I'm sorry I'm doing something wrong."

"You're not doing something wrong, you just don't seem really in it. I am kind of new to all of this, so tell me if your experience is different. If you don't know what a partner wants to do, what do you do?" Stiles asked like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"What do you mean?"

Stiles scoffed. "You can't tell me I'm the first one that's ever- Oh my God I'm the first one that's ever called you out on your caveman fucking!"

Derek looked embarrassed.

"Don't call it that! Look Stiles I get you might be new to this, but when people see me they assume things. I look a certain way so people expect me to act a certain way. When they see me, the leather jacket, and the car they know what they want."

Stiles looked at Derek with a fond considering look. "And what about what you want?"

Derek looked thrown. "What I want?"

Stiles huffed and moved to sit in Derek's lap. "Look, those other people might want to fuck Derek Hale, or the leather jacket, or the car, but not me. I don't want to fuck Derek Hale the macho alpha."

Derek looked at him quizzingly.

"I want to fuck Derek. Who I've only been dating for a couple weeks, but I've known long enough to know what every eyebrow twitch means. Who will sometimes look at me across pack meetings with a smile so beautiful and fond it knocks my breath out. Who breaks for bunnies and gasps till he knows it's safe then grumbles about it. Who is my alpha that takes care of our pack."

Derek's eyes flashed and his hands moved from being loosely on his hips to wrapping around his back.

"Who can make me feel as frustrated as I've ever been as easily as he can make me smile and laugh till I feel like bursting."

Derek tried not to look at Stiles as he swallowed thickly and tried to will away the shine in his eyes. Stiles grabbed his chin and pecked his lips.

"I want to fuck you Derek. The real you. I want you to fuck me how you want to fuck me, not how you think everybody wants to fuck you. You can want things from sex Derek." Stiles leaned back and saw the shine in his eyes, so he kissed under each eye. When he finished he crawled into the center of the bed and turned around to face Derek. Stiles laid down and spread his legs as he splayed his hands above himself like they were bound.

"Fuck me Derek. The real you."

Derek's eyes flashed as he let out a pitiful whine.

"H-how?" His voice cracked halfway though.

Stiles smirked. "However you want."

Another whine escaped Derek.

"No. I mean- I- no one has ever- I don't-I don't-" He looked overwhelmed and unsure.

Stiles set free from his imaginary bondage once again moved closer to kneel next to Derek with a look of understanding. "Okay. That's totally okay. How about I help you? I've read a lot of helpful stuff on being open with your partner. Would you be okay with me talking while we figure this out together?"

Derek vigorously nodded from where he was breathing in Stiles' scent in the crook of his neck.

"Alright first things first, safe word."

Derek's head shot up and looked fearful. Stiles laughed.

"Relax I'm not about to get out the whips, whenever you try something new both partners have to have a way out. Besides I've always wanted to make a safe word."

Derek nodded then smirked. "So whips later?"

Stiles returned the smile. "Whips later. Now think. Hm... how bout, 'This is private property.'"

Derek swatted Stiles' ass then grabbed it. "You're damn right this is. But it's too long."

"Wait I have it. Miguel."

Derek looked unimpressed.

"Too bad it's Miguel now. You shouldn't have been a smartass."

Derek gave him the eyebrows that meant, 'Look who's talking.'

"Do we have any no goes? Mine would be don't call yourself daddy. I have a healthy relationship with my father, thank you."

Derek was quiet for a bit. "Don't lick my abs."

Derek looked small.

Stiles gave an acknowledging and encouraging nod.

"I like it a lot when you kiss up them, but don't lick up."

Stiles nodded again before he leaned down and pecked him three times up his chest and kisses his lips for longer. "Okay."

"One other thing?"

Stiles grabbed Derek's hand and kissed the back of it. "Anything."

"You fuck me."

All the breath was knocked out of Stiles and Derek was overwhelmed by the scent of lust pouring out of Stiles.

"Yo-you want me to fuck you? Just clarifying. Making sure I didn't just hear wrong. Yes. Totally. For sure. Abso-fuckin-lutely."

"It's just I never have done it that way. And I mean I don't really know how to do not caveman sex, so why not start here. And I trust you."

"You don't have to justify yourself, and you don't have to answer, but why haven't you ever?"

Derek shrugged. "People assume I'm always a dominant top, and no one I've ever dated asked. It's okay though I know what I look like, so I'm okay with being top and giving-"

Stiles shook his head. "Just because you're the top it doesn't mean you can't get things out of sex."

Derek nodded. "I- okay. And I guess it's also because if they see me and they don't want me to screw them, they want to screw me as a power trip. Like if they could top me it makes them more, and I don't like that. My wolf really doesn't like it. So I haven't. Well mean she was dominant, Kat-"

"Uh uh nope stop right there. If I'm to get it up at all tonight we aren't talking about her whatsoever. We can, but not tonight." Stiles got serious as he ran his fingers through Derek's hair. "Tonight is about you, me, us, and sex. Happy sex. Good sex. Lots of sex."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Is that all you think about."

"What no!" Stiles said in a faux affronted tone. "I also think about you..." Stiles batted his eyelashes. "And having sex with you."

Derek shifted in the bed and made a face.

"What was the purpose of those eyebrows?"

"What do you mean they're my eyebrows."

Derek did an eyebrow wiggle. Stiles had a small amused smile.

"No, I mean the face you made. You made a face a couple times just now. When I sai- Oh my God! Derek does the word sex make you uncomfortable?!" Stiles seemed amused.

Derek groaned and leaned forward to press his face into Stiles' neck. "Maybe." Stiles laughed.

"Why?"

Derek pulled his face back to look at Stiles with a look of cute confusion. "I don't know it just sounds too biological or medical."

"So you prefer fucking?"

Derek scrunched his nose. "Screwing and fucking sound like I'm gonna leave you in an alley."

"Well then what would you prefer," Stiles snorted. "Love-making?"

Derek's cheeks burned.

Stiles' eyes went wide.

"Wait no-"

"Oh my god!"

"Stiles no. I didn't mea-" Derek was cut off by Stiles crashing his lips into Derek's.

"I love it." Stiles kissed him again, but this time starting to lovingly caress Derek's tongue with his own, unlike any fast and biting kiss they'd shared before. Stiles moved his hands down Derek's shoulders and continued languidly down his body till one of his hands lightly started stroking Derek's cock.

When they parted they were both breathless, but somehow Derek was struggling more. Derek had his eyes on Stiles' puffy flushed spit coated lips.

"Derek?"

Derek met his eyes.

"I want to make love to you."

That's all it took for Stiles to feel Derek harden again completely under his touch.

"Yes."

Stiles couldn't quite tell if it was permission or a plea. "Okay do you want to ride me so you are on to-"

"No. I want to be under you."

Stiles knew how much that meant from a wolf, especially an alpha and it affected him as if he was one too. Stiles could feel his dick already wanting to fuck Derek senseless, but he got the feeling Derek had never made love to anyone and Stiles wanted to be that person.

Derek was staring at his mouth hungrily.

"Do you want me to blow you?"

"I love your mouth, but we've done that before." It looked as if it pained him to say no, but Derek's words were coming easier and more truthful.

"So you want to do something we haven't done before?"

Derek nodded, unsure, after a bit.

"Do you have something in mind?"

Derek shook his head no.

"I- I want to- Maybe just-"

Stiles smirked. "Derek do you want to experiment in bed?"

His cheeks flushed in just the perfect shade to let Stiles know how right he was.

"Do you want to have super kinky sex?"

"No! Well I guess. I just want to try something that isn't just this goes there."

"This goes there?" Stiles teased.

"You know what I mean." He snapped. Stiles put his hands up placatingly. Then one dropped down to stroke Derek's dick again.

"Relax babe. I'm not making fun of you, just light teasing. Besides," Stiles took one of Derek's hands and placed it on his dick. "I think you can feel I am also interested in something new."

Derek teasingly swiped his thumb over the tip of Stiles' cock, something he learned days into their relationship that he loves.

He sucked in a breath. "Toys?" Stiles lifted a questioning brow as he spoke.

Derek turned red. "Do you even have any?"

"Not here. This is your loft. Where are yours?"

Derek flushed more.

"If you blush anymore tonight you might as well stay that color... I've always thought red suits you." Stiles gave a conspiratorial smirk.

His eyes flashed red at the compliment.

"How am I more embarrassed to talk about and get sex toys than my teenage boyfriend."

"Legal, say legal or it's creepy."

"Legal."

"Good boy. See now we can do this, and a good thing I think I'm starting to get blue balls" He kissed Derek as he manhandled him to the center of the bed. Stiles laid on top of him as they kissed and stroked each other.

Stiles broke the kiss. "Do you trust me?"

It was out of his mouth as soon as Stiles finished speaking. "Yes."

"Turn over."

His words sent a jolt up Derek's spine.

Stiles moved to make room for him to move.

He did.

Somehow he felt more bare like this. Not knowing where Stiles was, or what he was doing. He expected to hear the lube cap, but he didn't. He expected a slap on his ass maybe, for swatting Stiles earlier.

He could feel him settling in between his legs.

Maybe Stiles would bite his ass hard enough to draw blood to mark him. Or maybe Stiles would raw him with no warning to see what he would do. He hoped he didn't take the kinky thing too far and he didn't suddenly feel warm piss on his back. That is definitely in the no gos. Maybe he should look back and mention it.

Just as he was about to he spoke. "I want to rim you. Is that okay?"

Derek expected a lot of things, but he did not expect that. And he definitely did not expect to be asked. He was so surprised his dick almost forgot to react, almost.

"I already said I want you to fuck me, I said yes. You don't have to ask. Fuckin hell, especially not for that!"

He heard a frustrated sad noise before he felt a comforting weight drape across his back.

Stiles kissed the back of his neck and hugged him from behind, which was a kind of an awkward position.

"Yes I do have to ask. You can't just give blanket permission in the bedroom when you don't know your partner sexually yet. I'll always ask. So can I?"

Derek lilted his head up for a kiss. "Yes."

After their kiss Stiles was gone again. He didn't hear the cap, but he felt the cool plastic of the lube bottle against his leg. Then he felt the warmth of Stiles in between his legs, but chills and bumps raced up his legs as Stiles danced his long delicate fingers down his thighs. Stiles started to knead his ass and he could already tell he was stretched too thin he was not going to last long, not if Stiles kept being this gentle. He started leaving lovebites, that faded within moments, on his inner thighs.

Derek felt calm.

Derek jolted, not realizing kneading had turned to spreading, and now there was a smooth slick tongue lapping at his hole.

The sound he made was inhuman, but Stiles didn't mind.

It seemed like he had made a game of seeing how far he could stretch his hole with his tongue without dipping in or how many times he could go around. Derek couldn't tell if it was entirely comfortable or was going to be the best thing ever. Stiles slowly swept a wide stripe up and Derek made an inpatient growling noise.

Once Stiles began fucking his tongue in and out feverishly and then with his fingers Derek quickly decided it was the best ever. Derek started moaning loudly, and Stiles was a quick study of what made him the loudest. Stiles had his face smushed up against him as he ate him out like he was the last eggroll at a buffet. He could feel his face, and his hot breath, and the spit rolling down. He could feel him, but god he could smell Stiles reeking of sex and happiness.

His boyfriend was happy because he was doing something that made Derek happy. His claws were ripping the sheets and started to dig into the mattress.

"Please. Fuck. Please touch me Stiles." Derek whined.

"Stiles! Stiles! Fuck Stiles!"

He took his name as a sign he was doing well and another plea so he crooked his fingers.

"Stiles!" Derek came with a pillow muffled shout of Stiles' name.

Stiles startled back. "Holy fuck!"

Derek was breathing heavy. "Sorry."

Stiles could tell if he had more breath he'd continue. "Sorry? Are you kidding Der? I just made you come with my tongue and fingers up your ass! That is the most awesome sex thing I have ever done!"

"We have different definitions of awesome." Derek's face was still smushed to the pillow.

Stiles looked skeptical. "Are you trying to tell me you didn't like it? Because I'm pretty sure you did." Stiles sat up on to his knees so he could massage Derek's shoulders.

"No I loved it, I'm just not so sure it was great for you."

"Are you kidding? I loved having you writhing under me."

Derek shivered.

He remembered what Derek said earlier and what he just said could come off a little power trippy.

"I mean, knowing I was pleasing you was great." He seemed to have known what he meant.

He moaned as his muscles relaxed.

"I'll be right back."

That seemed to crash him out of his post orgasmic bliss. "Where are you going?"

Stiles placed a kiss to his forehead. "Right back." Derek watched his beautiful naked ass walk from one dresser to his closet.

"What are you loo-"

"Found it!" Stiles triumphantly held up a bottle of eucalyptus lotion. "Why was it in your closet?"

"It's not ready to say it's gay yet."

"Har har. Seriously Derek its weird. Who keeps lotion in their closet."

"You checked the closet."

Stiles threw the lotion at his back. Before jumping right on his ass facing his legs.

"Oof."

"I think you're getting too far away from the glow, you're starting to get mouthy."

"Look who's talking." Stiles squirted the cold lotion right onto the back of Derek's thighs.

"Cold!"

"Ha! You bastard." Stiles began rubbing it in and soothing his muscles.

He worked his way all the way down to his feet and back up.

Stiles mixed the lube and lotion and circled his finger before pushing in easily. Before he had gotten up to two fingers and his tongue. He quickly added a second as Derek let out a content hum of approval. He kissed all up Derek's back after adding a third finger.

Derek was ready and whining for him and he was aching with the need to be inside of him, but he wanted this to be perfect for Derek. Derek needed to know sex could be about him, and not just a weapon or tool.

"I can't wait to feel you. You are perfect. I could stare at you all day. I could fuck you all day, just to see what makes you moan my name the loudest. I think I could make you orgasm so hard you black out. I could make you feel so good. I will make you feel good Der. I promise."

"Fuck you were made for this. Those fingers, and that ass, and fuck don't get me started on that mouth. If it isn't doing dirty things it's saying them."

Derek was always quiet, Stiles was the loud one. He never expected him to dirty talk him back, and that's what made him loose it. Derek made a shocked noise at the loss, but was silenced by the crinkle of a packet.

"Werewolf. Don't need condom." It was like his mind couldn't speak properly.

"I know darling, but it's easier to clean up. Unless you want a buttload of my cum."

Derek stuttered out, "N-no co-condom."

At that Stiles grabbed the base of his dick, because he waited too long and he honestly didn't know if that would shoot him over the edge. "Jesus christ Derek! If I was a werewolf you would've killed me by now."

Derek could hear the cap popping off the lube and slick noises. He expected to feel the press of Stiles' dick, but he felt his still slightly slicked hand slap his leg. "Roll over."

"What? Is that a dog joke?"

"Roll over. I need to see you. I need to look into those beautiful eyes as I wreck you."

Derek obliged.

"There we go."

Fucking finally Derek feels Stiles slide into him. They both let out moans of bliss and satisfaction.

Stiles started to speak as he waited for Derek to adjust. "Oh god Derek! I'm not going to last long you feel so good. Oh god look at you. God Der you look so beautiful right now. I would take a picture, but I don't ever want anyone to see you like this. How you are for me. All laid out and wanting. God you don't know what you do to me."

Derek mumbled his own words along with Stiles'.

Derek started moving his hips so Stiles started to shallowly move in and out. He made inpatient noises. When that went unanswered he pulled Stiles' hair and started thrusting up.

"No." Stiles pinned his arms above his head. "Keep these here."

Derek frantically shook his head. "No. Can't. Need to touch you. Can't Stiles."

"Keep them there," Stiles said sternly.

Derek whined and reached for the bedside table, he dug around in the drawer before coming back with a pair of handcuffs. Stiles could tell they were coated in wolfs bane. Flashes of a cruel blond chaining Derek clouded his mind.

"No." Stiles still had the stern, but now mixed with an edge. Stiles threw the cuffs across the room and pinned his hands down once again with one weak hand. "You keep them there not because of those, because of this," Stiles kissed him full with emotion neither of them were sure they were ready to say.

"Keep them there because I asked you to, not because I made you."

After he spoke he tenderly kissed him again. When Stiles pulled away Derek didn't know when Stiles had moved one hand firmly to his hips and the other to lightly stroke his dick, but his arms weren't moving regardless. Derek had tears in his eyes from that kiss.

"God so beautiful, so perfect. I wish I could see you like this forever. Stretched beneath me like I deserve to be able to touch you. You're so good to me, for me. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. God look at you, you take care of your pack so well. You're a good alpha. My alpha is so beautiful." Derek's eyes bled crimson. "He takes care of me so well, I take care of him too. Der, you take care of me so well. Let me take care of you. Let go Derek."

Stiles' control was slipping. He started thrusting and jacking Derek off faster.

"Look at you. God. I love this. I wish I could see you like this all the time. I wish you always looked like I just got done making love to you. So beautiful."

Derek came with a deep roar and Stiles could see his half shifted face and claws with tears streaking down his face. Stiles collapsed into Derek's neck and breathed out heavily as he fucked Derek through his orgasm. He finally let go with a shout of Derek's name. Derek pulled him as deep as he would go as he came.

They laid there breathing heavily in each others arms for what seemed like hours and mere seconds at the same time.

"We should've been doing that years ago."

Derek nodded into Stiles neck.

"Woot woo! Batman finally got some." Erica ruffled his hair. Boyd rolled his eyes, but gave him that head nod of respect thing.

The pack had a weird thing about sex. Because everyone instantly knew everything it wasn't a big deal and they talked about it.

"Dude! How come you didn't text me?!"

"Bro I just got done having sex with Derek, you coming over for pack night in an hour?"

Scott wrinkled his nose. "Okay I see your point." Allison smiled at Scott's stupidity, and gave Stiles a thumbs up.

"So did you stop planning out our wedding and the names of our kids?"

"Leave Jake and Dia out of this, but yes I don't think you're the most perfectest person in the world anymore." Lydia looked shocked and a bit hurt like she never expected him to move on. He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. "Close second though my dear." She smiled and it seemed like a slight against her perfection she could handle.

"If I ever get bumped to third I will bury someone."

"Noted."

Cora glared and said, "He's my brother."

"Yup. Sure is."

"Don't mess him up." If they were talking about anyone else he would've thought she meant don't mess it up, but knowing his ex's she meant don't hurt him in a way he can't heal.

"He's already messed up." Her eyes narrowed. "I just hope I can take care of him long enough for him to realize that he's worth taking care of himself. And if he lets me, even after that."

She gave a sort of half smile. "Mom would've hated you." Stiles' heart sank. "But Laura and dad would've loved you. They would've gotten her to come around."

He knew how much that meant. When he spoke his voice was thick. "Thanks."

"Thank you." She nodded towards where Derek was hiding in his room.

"If you ever need a man with more... experience just le-"

"I will kill you... again."

"Well that would be unpleasant. Especially since I couldn't see my nephew glow whenever you walk into a room."

He looked interested in the non-existent dirt under his nails.

"Hurt one of the two living family members I have left and I will hurt you. And if my nephew is being more than his usual pig brained self let me know I'll hurt him."

"Thanks... I guess? Now go away you're creepy." Peter slunk away.

Isaac took him by complete surprise. He hugged him and buried his nose in his neck.

"Um I'm sorry are we friends... or even not hate each other now that I'm screwing Derek?"

"Sorry you just smell like him when he's happy."

"Do I have to worry about you stealing both of our sheets so you can smell my boyfriend's jizz?"

Isaac looked like he was about to retch. "No! Not like that! Not like sex happy! Just happy happy!" Stiles sniffed his shirt, he will never get used to people telling him about smells he can't smell.

He smiled at the thought that he made Derek happy. "Oh okay well cool. Thanks bud." He ruffled Isaac's curls which wasn't met with immediate dismemberment so, progress. Yay!

Derek finally came down so they could start.

Halfway through the meeting Jackson burst in like he owned the place with a, "What's up dipshits?"

They tried to resume, but he kept interrupting.

"Along the northern sid-"

"Whoa whoa. Wait!"

There were eye rolls all around. This has to be like the eighth time.

"Did Stilinski actually get fucked? Wow, what poor bastard took one for the team?" Jackson was smirking, but no one else found it funny.

"Shut the hell up Jackson." Scott snapped.

"Really. We know you have to be a douche, but why not do it on non meeting hours. We have more important issues than your fragile ego and masculinity." Stiles could always count on Erica to get dirty when he needed her.

Jackson's nose flared. He was still a bit slow with identification of people, but he was good with emotions, how ironic.

"Seriously? Wow Derek, if I'd known my alpha was that desperate I'd have taken you to The Jungle myself."

Stiles rolled his eyes, but the pack looked defensive and Derek looked murderous.

Jackson better shut up.

"I know a few cheap whores."

Derek was lunging before anyone even registered what he said, all except Stiles. He moved in between the two stopping Derek in his tracks by a hand on his chest.

"Aww are you gonna protect me from your boyfriend?"

Derek bared his fangs.

"He's not worth it. Last week his mom and dad flew out the day before his birthday and he stormed out of our party so he's probably still sore."

Jackson saw red. "Oh yeah you, little bitch, well at least I'm not so pathetic I had to beg my own alpha to fuck me."

Derek's eyes were flashing red, but Jackson was too focused on Stiles, and he was standing now.

"Jackson stop."

"Oh why Lydia? Do you feel bad for him because of his little boy crush?"

Jackson turned back to Stiles. "He probably felt indebted to you because you're weak and nothing."

Stiles holding Derek's gaze steady was all that was holding him back.

"How sad you are Stilinski, but you probably take it real good."

Derek would've leapt. He would've torn him to shreds of not for the fear that Stiles would defend himself. Tell them that it was Derek that took it. Derek their alpha took it up the ass from the weak human pack member and cried when he came. Derek was frozen he saw his pack in a flurry of motion screaming and pointing fingers at Jackson. Boyd the only one daring to hold back Erica. Slinging insults, but none of them dared harm a pack member without orders.

Orders he wasn't giving. Because he was frozen in place by how weak he was.

Everything snapped back into place all at once and the screaming grated his ears till they all stopped at the sound of laughter.

It was Stiles. Was it crying? No, he was laughing. Maniacally.

"You know what Jackson? I did take it from him, and he gave it to me good. Harder, better than you ever could for anyone. And he fucked me like you could never understand, and never get the way you are right now- with care."

Stiles got more and more worked up till he was shouting.

"So go ahead call me no better than a whore, but the only one getting a cheap fuck here is you!"

"Sure. Whatever Stilinski, whatever helps your pathetic ass sleep."

And then Jackson did something stupid. He got Stiles angry. Not upset, not disappointed, not sad.

Angry.

He looked at Derek and said, "Man someone really fucked you up for you to want Stilinski."

"That is enough!" Stiles yelled with fury and power.

"You know what Jackson? I feel pity for you. You're just a piece of shit who likes to pretend they're a worth while person sometimes. I'm done with it! For all your barbs and jokes at my expense do you know who the only person keeping you in this pack is?"

Jackson scoffed and looked around like can you believe this guy to be met with confirmation of its truth.

Jackson sobered a bit at that, but then his venom was back.

"So what I've finally pissed you off enough I'm kicked out? Hallelujah."

"You don't seem to get it Jackson. Lydia broke up with you because you don't deserve her, you're shifting between a werewolf and kanima because you can't get that poison out of your veins, Danny your best friend wants nothing to do with you because you are such a douche, the team won't talk to you, and your parents leave you-"

Stiles could see the crack in Jackson's perfect face at that.

"Because they don't see what kind of person you could be if you had someone who wouldn't give up on you."

All the air, confidence, and superiority left him in one big whoosh.

"I- I- I don't understand?"

Stiles sighed. "No, you don't. You have no one Jackson. No one that cares about you, the real you. No one that loves you for who you are completely. Look at us. This pack is filled with nobodies. People who don't have people. People who do, but there'll always be something they can't accept or know about, but not here. We are what the others need. We are a pack. We have people because we chose each other. Understand this, you have no one, but you could. You could have a pack. It's your choice whether or not you're willing to work for it. You choose, but know if you walk out that door it won't open for you again. So choose." Stiles looked impatient.

"Now!" Stiles shouted forcefully. Derek flinched, still being close to him.

"Stay."

"What? Sorry weak human hearing."

"I want to stay."

"Yeah I know you want to stay, but are you willing to?"

"Yes."

Stiles nodded. "Good. Now apologize to your alpha. You were rude, disrespectful, and insulting. Don't make me make you do it twice, because you've only got one shot."

"Derek I am sincerely sorry for my actions. I was disrespectful and I'm sorry. I will do whatever it takes to make up for my actions." When it was clear he was done Derek and Jackson both looked at Stiles to see if it was enough.

He rolled his eyes. "Sit down and shut the fuck up."

The meeting finished without a peep from Jackson, but the entire time Derek felt his guts twisting. He felt the shame of not standing up for his boyfriend. The guilt of not dealing with his own beta. And most of all he felt the fear of Stiles being angry at him for not correcting him. Derek decided what to do.

"Alright that is all for this week's pack meeting. You guys know the rules." As people started to get up he added on. "Oh and Stiles fucked me." Immediately he could tell that was not the right thing to do. Everyone froze, Stiles looked at him with wide eyes, and he felt himself turn very red. "I just thought everybody should know that."

"Oh no, I could've lived my entire life not knowing that." Cora said with a look of disgust and disappointment as she scrubbed a hand down her face.

Stiles was next. "No, Derek! Everyone should not have know that!" Stiles threw his hands out to his sides and walked closer. He whispered to Derek. "Look is this like some type of voyeurism?"

"Dude ew."

"Dereeek that's gross."

"Keep me out of your kinks."

"Count me and Boyd in."

Derek shouted, "What!? No!" He looked stricken. "I just thought I should set the record straight, and I felt bad for not doing it earlier! I just didn't want you to get mad. Are you mad?"

Stiles cupped his cheek and smiled. "I am not mad. It's kinda sweet in a messed up way."

Stiles cocked his head. "A really really messed up way."

Derek pulled up to Stiles' house to see that Lydia and Scott's cars were already there.

"Derek, I was just about to call you, it's-"

"Stiles, I know, he called me," Derek nodded as he entered Stiles' room. He stopped short when he saw the state it was in.

Dozens of red strings were pinned from his wall to a pair of scissors that had been driven into the mattress.

"What the-"

"He called you? What did he say?" Scott asked, an urgency in his tone.

"He doesn't know where he is. It's cold and dark," Derek inspected the different pictures on the wall. There were tons, cases that his dad had previously worked, cases the pack had been working on, different pages that looked like they'd been ripped from a book. Some on hallucinations, some on the studies of insomnia.

"He told me he thinks he's in a basement," Scott piped in then, hoping it would offer some insight to the others in the room.

"His leg is hurt. He can't move," Derek's eyes continued to scan the wall for any idea as to where Stiles might have gone. "And it smells."

"We need to call his dad," Lydia pulled out her phone.

"He asked me not to," Scott objected stopping the red head.

"Lydia's right," Derek turned, a scowl on his face. "He thinks he's not alone. If someone took him then we need to get the cops involved."

"I promised," Scott shifted nervously. He hated breaking promises to Stiles.

"I didn't," Lydia started to dial the sheriff's number.

"Don't call him, we can stop by the station, it's close."

"I'm gonna stay. There's something here," Lydia gestured to the room.

"Isaac and I are gonna scan the area, see if we can pick up his scent," Scott grabbed a shirt from Stiles' dresser and tossed it to the other werewolf.

"I'm gonna stay as well. Call me if you find something," Derek reached out, his fingers grazing a picture of himself on the wall.

After fifteen minutes of sifting through the pages on the wall, Derek was still no closer to finding out where Stiles was. His panic was growing and he could tell Lydia's was too.

"Did you hear that?" Lydia asked when Derek ran a finger along a red string as if it would lead to his answer.

"Hear what?" Derek frowned.

"I heard something, do that again," Lydia reached over and plucked the string. "This is it, this is what I've been looking for."

Derek looked to the picture that the string lead to, "Eichen house?" Derek frowned.

"It's an industrial building," Lydia lit up. "Stiles, thought he was in an industrial basement."

"But he smelled something strong enough to make his eyes water. That doesn't make sense," Derek frowned.

"I can't imagine a basement smelling good," Lydia rolled her eyes as she pulled out her phone to call Scott.

Derek wanted Lydia to be right, but something didn't feel right about it. Stiles' had specifically said the smell made his eyes water.

Derek's eyes dropped from the Eichen house picture to the one just below it. A newspaper article about coyote attacks.

"Scott, Isaac, and his dad are going to meet me at Eichen house, are you coming?" Lydia asked, hanging up her phone.

"Wait, what if he's not awake?" Derek plucked a page from the wall about sleep walking.

"What do you mean?" Lydia huffed, clearly eager to get to Eichen house.

"What if he's still asleep and only thinks he's in a basement. What if he's in the woods. He said he smelled something so bad that his eyes were watering. I live near the woods and the spray they used on the coyote den to drive it away is very strong. I can smell it almost to my house. What if he's near there?" Derek pointed at the newspaper clipping next.

"I mean there's a chance but..." She glanced at Eichen house.

"You go, I'll check the woods," Derek knew he might be wrong, but he would feel better if he checked.

"Call if you find him," Lydia nodded before rushing out of the room.

Derek grabbed a shirt of Stiles' to get a fresh scent.

-

The closer Derek got to the coyote den the harder it was to smell anything but the sour stench of the spray they'd used. Did they have to make it so strong?

"Stiles?" Derek shouted, hoping the teen would answer him.

He focused his hearing very carefully causing his heart to leap at the sound of whimpering in the distance.

"What do you want from me?" The voice was faint but there was no mistaking it, that was Stiles.

"Stiles," Derek bolted in the direction, adrenalin carrying his feet through the underbrush of the forest floor.

"No," Stiles' started screaming. "No, wait."

Derek slid to his knees as he landed next to a thrashing Stiles.

"No, please, wait," Stiles' screaming continued.

"Stiles. Stiles, you're okay," Derek wrapped his arms around the flailing boy, but Stiles continued to thrash and scream, his voice raw, like he was in pain and his eyes squeezed shut like he was trying not to see whatever had him.

"Stiles," Derek raised his voice louder and gripped the teen tighter. "You're alright."

The screaming stopped, and the thrashing minimized as Stiles opened his eyes.

"It's okay, I've got you, it's just me," Derek soothed, his grip loosening slightly.

Stiles pulled back away from Derek before realizing who it was.

A sob ripped from his throat as he collapsed into Derek's arms.

"Shhh, it's okay. I've got you," Derek stroked Stiles' hair as he pulled out his phone, sending Scott a quick text.

Derek held Stiles as he tried to calm down. Derek noted that Stiles' legs were fine, and he had been sleep walking, but it was more than that. He was truly in pain. Derek watched the pain seep from the exhausted human, into his veins, swirling up his arms like black vines.

Stiles hadn't just been sleep walking, this was something else.

Sterek week prompt: Canon Highlights. A rewrite of season 3 episode 6 ‘Riddled’

The ride home is uncomfortable - not because of Derek, who is quiet, but not awkwardly so. It’s uncomfortable because Stiles sits in a pool of, well, pool water, his shoes make strange squelching noises with every movement and the stray drop sliding down his neck makes him shudder intermittently. Despite all of this, when they arrive Stiles takes one look at Derek, who looks like a drowned cat, or perhaps like a very grumpy drowned puppy, and sighs.

“The bathroom’s up on the first floor, first on the left. Towels are in the cabinet, I’ll get you some sweats or something. No stripes, I promise.”

When Derek doesn’t even show his teeth, Stiles knows he made the right decision in not just letting him slip away into the shadows. Or drip away into the shadows. Stiles puts on some hot water and digs around in the freezer for the one pizza he has hidden there for emergencies. If this doesn’t count as an emergency, then what does. 

By the time the water shuts off in the bathroom, Stiles has the biggest pair of sweatpants he owns and an old police academy shirt that used to belong to his dad ready for Derek. He dithers over whether to add boxers, and then quickly grabs the least embarrassing pair and adds it to the pile as the door creaks open.

Derek has a towel wrapped around his waist and Stiles does his best not to ogle his shoulders or chest or the hint of thighs under the towel.

“Here you go,” he says, and hurriedly shoves the clothes into Derek’s hands. “When you’re ready, go check the pizza isn’t burning downstairs, would you?”

Then he turns away from Derek, hopefully before his flaming cheeks got too obvious and starts walking away when he realises he completely forgot to pick up some dry clothes for himself. But when he turns back to grab a shirt and some sweats, Derek has already dropped his towel. Stiles stares at his back, eyes travelling down from the spiral between his shoulder blades despite Stiles’ best efforts, over the dips at the bottom of his spine and finally across the curve of his ass. Then Stiles lets out what can only be called a squeak, decides dry clothes are overrated, and flees from the room.

After a brief attempt to drown himself in the shower, Stiles tells himself to man up and carefully peeks through the bathroom door. Some noise from downstairs gives him enough courage to slip into his thankfully empty room and quickly pull on some hopefully clean clothes from the pile on the foot of his bed. 

He almost expects Derek to be gone when he gets down, but to his surprise, he hasn’t escaped while Stiles was in the shower. Instead he’s standing in Stiles’ kitchen, cursing softly under his breath as he attempts to get the pizza off the tray and onto a plate. While Stiles is watching, he gives up on waiting for gravity to do its job and just pulls the pizza off with his hand, hissing when his palm touches the hot tray. 

“Dude, what the hell!” 

Stiles hurries forwards and almost burns himself as well when he grabs Derek’s hand. But as he watches, the wound heals until just a faint red streak remains and they end up simply holding hands. When Stiles realises that, he hurriedly drops Derek’s hand and busies himself with grabbing some cutlery and plates, willing down the colour in his cheeks. Behind him Derek puts away the tray and grabs the pizza, following Stiles when he leads them out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

“Get comfy, I’m going to get some hot tea - or would you prefer hot chocolate? I think we might still have some instant stuff somewhere. Not as good as made from scratch, but we definitely don’t have that in the house, my dad would sniff it out immediately. I’m surprised he didn’t find the pizza! Or would you like anything else, coffee, warm milk, water, a beer? We don’t have anything harder and we really shouldn’t even have the beer, but I think it’s Dad’s proof to himself and me that he’s not fallen off the wagon, so the beer is probably really old, but perhaps it’s still good. Does beer go off?”

He’d probably have kept on rambling if Derek hadn’t interrupted him: “Tea is fine, Stiles.”

“Tea it is!” Stiles replies brightly and escapes into the kitchen where he first bangs his head against the fridge. God, what is wrong with him! Then he sighs, drags a hand down his face and finally fills up a cup of tea for both of them. It’s not the drink he’d usually go for, especially not with pizza, but the shower has only done so much to warm him up, so tea it is. 

When he comes back into the living room, walking carefully to make sure nothing spills - they’ve had enough of both water and burns for one day, he thinks, Derek has cut the pizza into slices and sat down. To Stiles’ surprise he didn’t choose the armchair, but the couch, so now Stiles has to decide whether he’s going to take the armchair or sit down next to Derek. He hesitates and then sits down on the couch as well, reasoning to himself that it’s easier to get at the pizza that way. 

He promptly grabs a slice and shoves it into his mouth, mumbling: “Help yourself, dude,” when Derek doesn’t move to take a slice as well. Ignoring Derek’s disgusted look, he chews contentedly and switches on the TV, zapping through the channels until he ends up on something that looks familiar.

Stiles swallows and then says excitedly: “Dude, An American Werewolf in Paris!”

But to his surprise, Derek just furrows his brows in question.

“You’ve not seen it?” Stiles asks, confused. When Scott had first been bitten, Stiles had watched every single werewolf movie he could find, ostensibly in the name of research, but also just because most of them were hilarious, especially as he figured out this lycanthropy thing. 

“I am a werewolf, Stiles, I don’t have to watch crappy werewolf movies,” Derek says, sounding particularly disdainful.

“Dude, that’s the best part!” Stiles exclaims. “You get to make fun of all the things they get wrong! Crappy werewolf movies are the best movies now!” He gestures towards the TV. “Like look at the cannibalism here - not too closely, though, they really went all out - isn’t it absurd!” He stop and narrows his eyes when a worrying thought crosses his mind. “The cannibalism is absurd, isn’t it?”

“No, Stiles, I’d much prefer to eat you than this pizza,” Derek deadpans and Stiles’ tea goes down the wrong pipe when his mind offers up decidedly un-cannibalistic images for that. He waves off Derek’s suddenly concerned look and croaks after he’s gotten his cough under control: “Let’s just stick to pizza for now, shall we?”

“I didn’t mean -” Derek stutters, his cheeks flaming, and Stiles ignores the pang in his chest at that admission and quickly says: “Nevermind, look, here’s their cure - killing the one that bit you, so far, so good, but then also eating their heart. I don’t think Scott would have been able to eat Peter’s heart, even if he’d have managed to kill him. Thanks for that by the way; I know Scott probably doesn’t agree, but I’m glad you killed Peter. Imagine if the stories about the cure were just that - stories - and we’d have ended up with Scott as the Alpha! That would have definitely ended in tears. Not that you’re all fun and smiles, mind, but we’ll get you there yet. First of all, laughing at crappy werewolf movies. Eat up and then settle in, we’re going to enjoy this.”

Derek looks as though he wants to say something, but then he gives into Stiles’ obviously superior commands and snags the last piece of pizza. 

It takes a while, but about half way through the film he starts relaxing and, to Stiles’ surprise, even gets really into slagging off about all the inaccuracies. When it turns out the channel is having a werewolf night, it’s not even a question that they’re going to keep watching. Stiles just makes a dash up the stairs to raid his secret stash of unhealthy goodies, and then they settle in to watch the next film. And then the one after that.

Thankfully Stiles’ dad has the nightshift, otherwise this might be hard to explain.

Watching horrible movies with Derek is fun, way more than Stiles would have ever expected, and he even learns something, to the point where he’s tempted to write it all down. It’s valuable information after all! Derek’s humour is sharp and biting, but Stiles also forms a new appreciation for his trademark deadpan, which is hilarious in the right context. With every film they both sink deeper into the cushions, until Stiles’ side is pressed entirely against Derek, who is one hot line next to him. Thoughts already turning sluggish, Stiles wonders whether that’s a sign Derek is running a fever or whether he’s just naturally a supernatural furnace. Before he can ask him that though, he nods off, head sinking to rest on Derek’s shoulder and only wakes up hours later. 

The TV has been turned off, but Derek is still there, sound asleep next to Stiles, or rather, half under him, as they’ve both slid down in slumber. He looks far younger with his face slack and not caught in a frown and Stiles pushes himself up on his elbows so he can study him properly. Even the eyebrows look less intimidating like this, instead they look more, well, sad. Stiles bites his lip and ever so carefully brushes away a curl of hair that has fallen into Derek’s eyes. There’s faint lines at their corners and Stiles remembers them crinkling up as Derek had laughed at one of Stiles’ stupid jokes. He can’t remember having seen Derek properly laugh ever before. Smile, sure, though most of those had been fake as shit, but laugh? A full belly, throw his head back laugh? Never. 

And it’s a shame. 

Stiles resolves there and then that he’s going to fix that. He’s going to make Derek Hale laugh and be happy, if it’s the last thing he does.

Starting tomorrow. There’s a vampire movie marathon on tomorrow night, surely that will offer some hilarity. Certainly if they show Twilight - Stiles can’t wait to hear Derek’s comments on Jacob and the whole imprinting business. 

If they are really lucky, there might even be a Kanima movie marathon in their future, but Stiles isn’t placing any bets on that. Vampires will do for now and they’ll figure out the Kanima thing separately. 

But for now sleep beckons him again. He considers moving upstairs into his bed, but Derek is warm and the stairs are cold and who’s to stop Derek from escaping without breakfast in the morning if Stiles does not literally lie on him, so with that reasoning in mind, he wriggles carefully until he’s found a more comfortable position and then closes his eyes again, letting himself be lulled in by the calm rhythm of Derek’s slow breaths. 

Tomorrow can deal with all the inevitable questions. For now they sleep. 

“Shut up, Stiles,” Stiles mimics, watching Derek with a scowl. “Hey, take your shoes off if you’re going to sit on the bed.”

Peering at him over the edge of the book, Derek glares. Stiles doesn’t think that he’s going to listen to him either, but he finally reaches down and undoes his boots, kicking them to the floor. 

Stiles watches him for a moment before he turns back to his computer. There’s so much that he needs to get done. He needs to finish his homework so that he doesn’t fail his classes. He has to come up with a way to convince Danny to help him track the text that Allison got so that he can figure out just who the hell the alpha is. Most importantly he needs to keep his best friend and his dad and probably Derek alive. 

It’s a lot, and he’s not sure he’s managing this whole werewolf thing very well. Actually, fuck that. He is taking this whole thing like a champ. He’s definitely doing a better job dealing with it than Scott is, seeing as Scott is literally fraternizing with the enemy while Stiles is trying to keep him alive. 

And Stiles gets it, he does. Allison is pretty great on her own, and Scott has never liked anyone like he does her. But she’s an Argent. He aunt murdered Derek’s family!

He stops in the middle of the math problem he’s been working through. As absurd as it sounds, Stiles has never actually stopped to think about the fact that all of Derek’s family is dead. Sure, he’s looked up the Hale file, and yeah he actually saw Laura’s body in the grave Derek dug for her. But he’s never stopped to actually think about it. Derek is all alone. Everyone he loves, everyone who has ever loved him, is dead. 

It’s a really shitty thing to think about in the middle of doing math homework. Peeking over his shoulder at Derek, Stiles’ stomach sinks. Derek has slumped over onto his side, curled into himself while he thumbs at the book. Settled amongst the pillows, he looks smaller than Stiles is used too, and there’s something about seeing Derek’s socks that makes him look fragile. He’s probably imagining it, but Stiles swears that he can see bags under Derek’s eyes, and he finds himself worried about when the last time Derek got some actual sleep.

Sensing Stiles’ eyes on him, Derek look up and meets his gaze. The scowl on his face isn’t nearly as intimidating as it was hours ago. “What?” He doesn’t really know how to answer. So he just tilts his head and watches Derek closer. He catalogs the way that Derek’s shoulder bunch up as he tenses, and the way that his eyebrows draw together, an act to hide his unease with anger. “What are you staring at?”

“Why did you come here?”

Derek blinks at him. “What?”

Stiles turns his chair around so that he can look at Derek head on. Even though he hadn’t planned on asking the question, now he needs to know the answer. “Why would you come here to hide out, knowing that my dad is the sheriff? It would be so easy for me to turn you over to him right now. Why would you come here?”

If he hadn’t been watching him so closely, it’s likely that Stiles would have missed the way that Derek shifts uncomfortably on the mattress, avoiding his gaze. “It seemed like a good place to hide.” There’s no inflection in his voice, but it almost comes across like a question. “No one would suspect that I would be in the sheriff’s house.”

“That would be true, if I had known you were hiding here. It was pretty risky on your part to climb through my window and wait for me to stumble upon you, scaring me and alerting my dad.”

Derek swings his legs over to the side of the bed, sitting up. “Just drop it, Stiles.”

He can’t. “And why would you come here instead of going to Scott’s house?”

That makes Derek snort. “Scott hates me. He hates being a werewolf, and even though it’s not my fault he blames me for it. Besides, he’s dating an Argent. The last thing I need is for them to find me.”

It’s a fair point. As much as Stiles would like to protest, everything that Derek said is true. Scott does hate being a werewolf. He does blame Derek for it, at least in part. And he’s made it clear what he thinks about Derek. If he had been asked before, Stiles would have said he agreed with whatever Scott said. Sure, he thought the fact that werewolves were real was super cool, and yeah he was kind of jealous that Scott was the one who got bit instead of him. But it was Scott, and Stiles decided long ago that it was him and Scott against the world, everyone else be dammed. 

He’s not quite sure when that changed for him. 

Maybe it was when Scott refused to listen when Stiles was trying to help him figure everything out. Maybe it changed after Scott continued to ditch him in favor of spending time with Allison, even when their lives were in danger. Don’t get him wrong, he’ll still do whatever it takes to protect Scott, he’s unfailingly loyal like that and a few weeks of being overlooked won’t change it. But-. Well, thinking about it now, Stiles knows without a doubt that he doesn’t hate Derek. And he doesn’t think that he ever has, not really. Sure, he was afraid of him. And yeah, he was definitely suspicious of him.  Be he’s never hated him. 

And now, sitting in his bedroom, watching Derek curl around himself in an attempt to make himself look smaller, Stiles realizes that he kind of wants to take care of Derek too. 

That’s a startling thought. Stiles, who has always been one to roll with the punches, doesn’t question it. So as soon as the thought occurs to him, Stiles accepts it and moves on. “I won’t turn you in,” he says, open and honest. “You can stay here as long as you’d like, okay?”

In what Stiles has come to recognize as Derek’s natural reaction to literally everything, the admission makes Derek scowl. “Why?”

Stiles tilts his head up so he can stare at the ceiling. It’s a move that his dad has used when he was trying to gather the strength and sanity to deal with Stiles. “Because, we’re both trying to accomplish the same thing. Because we’re in this together. Because I trust you.”

The words coupled with the unfailing beat of Stiles’ heart make Derek’s eye flash blue. His expression is one of complete confusion and heartbreak. “You trust me?”

He snorts. “Duh. I would have turned you in long ago if I didn’t.”

“But Scott-.”

“Isn’t me.” He sighs, spinning his desk chair in a complete circle while he gathers his thoughts. “Obviously, I don’t know what Scott is dealing with, not completely. The change has been hard on him, and it was never something that he wanted. He doesn’t see it like a gift, and because of that he’s blinded by what’s going on. He may be my best friend, but that doesn’t mean that we have to think the same. I trust you, and I wish that he would too. So…” he doesn’t quite know how to end his speech, and he feels exposed with everything that he’s just admitted. So he nods once and turns back to his math homework, all too aware of the blush burning its way up the back of his neck. He can tell that Derek is still watching him, but he won’t turn back around. 

“It feels safe here,” Derek whispers, interrupting the awkward silence in the room. Stiles freezes. “I needed somewhere to go where I would feel safe, and my instincts led me to you. I don’t-. I hadn’t intended to stop here, and I almost left when I realized where I was, but I could hear you bustling around downstairs and realized that my wolf was right.” He clears his throat. “I trust you too.” The words are awkward and stilted, but Stiles believes them whole heartedly. 

Instead of turning around and beaming at Derek like Stiles wants too, he keeps his focus on his desk, though he’s sure that his scent is all warm satisfaction. “Cool.”

There is silence behind him for a drawn out moment, and then he hears Derek shuffle back into his position on the bed, making himself comfortable again. Stiles does glance over his shoulder at him once more, smiling when he sees how relaxed Derek looks while he reads, before getting back to work solving his math equations. 

Inside the vet clinic, she listens with a tight, sardonic smile as Stiles and Derek banter back and forth, weaving the tale of their reunion.  “You convinced the FBI to bring an intern onto an extremely dangerous field operation?” Lydia asks Stiles, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.  

Derek rolls his eyes. “I'm surprised he didn't convince them he could lead it.” The reply is part slight, part praise, just another round of their endless tug-of-war.  Lydia tries not to think about who will fall first. 

“Anyway, long story short,” Stiles gestures toward Derek, “I basically had to, you know, save his life.” 

If you unraveled the story of Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale, the words would span continents, developed in chapters when Lydia was merely a recurring character, spine reinforced, made stronger by years of wear, tear, and repair.  The tale Stiles tells about rescuing Derek is something straight out of a romance novel, the cheesy kind she used to hide under her bed in middle school. While Derek’s version is less flowery, it’s clear they both want to be the hero in each other’s stories.  They always save each other.

Instinctually, she doesn’t want to look too closely at Stiles’ face, illuminated in the surgical light of the exam room, afraid she’ll see the ending clearly written across his features: Lydia, holding a white flag, back against the bullet-riddled wall.

--------------------

“I should have let you board that plane to Paris,” Lydia tells Malia, statue face frozen in perpetual terror. “Should have pushed you into the arms of those mysterious French men."       

She’s lost Jackson and Ethan somewhere in the dark, deserted halls of her alma mater, and a monster lurks outside the closed classroom door, turning her friends to stone.  “I love you,” it whispers through the cracks in the wood, between the beats of her heart.  It emanates from a Stiles-shaped space inside her head, but speaks with Derek’s voice. She’s heard the phrase before, directed at her, but never with that desperate, broken edge, so sharp and jagged it shreds her apart from the inside out.  She squeezes her eyes shut, presses palms against her ears, but the words are peppermint-scented, tickling her nose, the exact scent and flavor of Stiles’ toothpaste.  

The ardent whisper of a lover. Now. Darling. Then it changes, a wolf’s growl.  Let me in.

“Fear’s pretty motivating,” Derek words from earlier ring in her ears.  She sees him, strategically positioned next to Stiles, their bodies turned unconsciously toward each other.  It’s burned onto the backs of her eyelids. “Especially when it leads to anger.” 

Lydia never imagined she’d be this afraid, but it doesn’t make her angry.  She’s enraged. 

“You can’t have me,” she tells the Anuk Ite, and thinks of her quiet strength, her loud scream, of bringing an armory full of grown men to their knees.  

--------------------

“He’s not healing,” Malia cries, desperate fingers scrabbling over Scott’s bloodstained cheeks. 

“I’m trying.” Scott’s panicked breaths echo around the library. Her stomach heaves. “It’s not working.  I can’t focus.”

Malia cradles his head in her hands.  “Hey.  Hey!  Look at me.  Yes, you can, just concentrate.”    

But he’s not healing, no matter how much Malia begs, and everyone knows what it means.   Stiles looks at Lydia, eyes desperate, unnerved.  Lydia grabs Stiles’ hand, holds on for dear life.  “Malia...Kiss him.” 

Her friend looks back at her, face incredulous.  “What?”

“Kiss him.”

There’s a collective intake of breath when Scott and Malia’s lips part, and Scott’s eyes blink open.  Something exciting burst in her chest, strange and startling, and Stiles squeezes her hand. She looks up into his face, thinking, Love can win.   

But Stiles isn’t looking at Lydia.  As Scott heals, he and Derek stare at each other, faces alive with hope.  This is what you do for me.  

Her fingers slip from Stiles’ bruising grip.

Lydia’s relationships with men have always been complicated.  The end of this one has her feeling curiously sad, like she’s lost something she never even knew she had.  But she’s smart, and even tonight, on the eve of all-out war, Lydia still learns new, hard truths.