Chapter Text
Even with wolfsbane-infused alcohol involved, Derek still didn’t love big parties, but he was giving it a shot, and Stiles appreciated that immensely. It was the last big thing on their College Experience To-Do List: a classic college party. This one was particularly raucous, being the day after finals. Last day as a college freshman, Stiles thought, and smiled happily to himself. A junior he was friendly with, Brett, had invited Stiles and “anyone Stiles wanted to bring” to his off-campus apartment for the celebration, and Derek had thoroughly surprised Stiles by agreeing to come.
“Hey man, thanks again for coming, you’re our favorite freshman,” a sloshed Brett declared, thumping Stiles on the back.
“Yeah, you saaaaaved my ass in Calc,” Brett’s roommate Vince said. Vince pushed another beer into Stiles’ hands and Stiles took it.
“Haha, no problem. Thanks for inviting us!” Stiles laughed, then gestured to Derek. “This is my, uh” he paused, short-circuiting slightly. They’d already been there for a while and Stiles wasn’t exactly sober. “Derek,” he finally settled on.
“Great to meet your Derek!” Vince laughed, and Stiles blushed.
“Ooooh, is this the guy we always see you around with? Your boyfriend?” Brett’s girlfriend cut in. He squinted, trying to remember her name. Stacy. Lacy. Macy. Definitely an - y. She was a shameless gossip, and pretty much permanently glued to Brett’s side, and Stiles didn’t really like her, if he was being totally honest.
“We’re not dating!” Stiles blurted. He didn’t want her spreading that around, and it was an absolute guarantee that anything he said, she would relay to pretty much anyone who would listen. Next thing he knew, he’d be fielding questions from everyone, and what if, oh god, what if they started pestering Derek about their relationship status . He shuddered visibly and then heard the sharp sound of metal followed by the wet splash of beer against hardwood.
Stiles jumped, glancing at Derek and seeing claws in Derek’s beer can. Derek seemed in no rush to move, staring resolutely at the floor, which made Stiles panic enough for the both of them.
“Oh no! The WOOD FLOOR,” Stiles shouted, gesturing wildly at the puddle of beer. He hoped it was enough to distract anyone from seeing Derek’s wolfed out hands. Why the fuck wasn’t Derek reacting? He looked over again and Derek’s hands were now in his pockets, the shredded beer can out of sight, but he’d barely moved at all, still standing in the beer.
“Don’t worry about it, man, we’re not getting our deposit back anyway,” Vince laughed but Stacy or Lacy or Macy gasped and swiftly disappeared to find the paper towels.
Stiles shoved his elbow into Derek’s side.
“Sorry,” Derek mumbled, barely audible, and finally looked up. Stiles took a reflexive step back at his expression. The best word for it was stormy, but more like a hurricane than a summer shower.
Stiles caught his eye and mouthed “What’s wrong?” but that seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Derek’s expression went terrifyingly blank besides a muscle jumping in his jaw. Stiles knew that look, like Derek was clenching his teeth so hard they might break. What the fuck was going on?
Derek turned on his heel and walked towards the back door, so fast Stiles could barely keep up as he ran after him.
“Stiles!” his friend Maria called out, grabbing at his arm. He shook her off, not even caring if he seemed rude. He was rapidly becoming incredibly, incredibly anxious.
“What’s- where are you going?” Stiles yelled over the music as they passed by the speaker thumping so hard the bass sounded blown out.
Derek whirled around, stopping so abruptly Stiles almost slammed into him. “I’m getting some air. Why don’t you go find someone nice to talk to?” The word “nice” sounded like a curse on his lips, his tone acidic.
“What?” Stiles said dumbly. He didn’t know what was going on. He thought they had been having a relatively nice time! It was probably too loud in here for Derek, and maybe Stiles was an asshole for not taking that into larger consideration, but they’d talked to a bunch of his friends, even played a game of beer pong that Derek had easily won. They’d both been steadily drinking but before about two minutes ago, Stiles had felt warm, practically rosy with affection for Derek and the unexpected way he fit so seamlessly into Stiles’s world. His friends liked Derek, and Stiles did too. He really, really liked Derek.
“We’re not dating,” Derek repeated meanly, slurring his words a little, and then moved fast enough that anyone watching might have been a little unnerved. The back door slammed and Derek was out on the porch before Stiles could even blink.
Stiles deflated, letting out a long breath and then forcing himself to breathe in and out. He would not cry, he wouldn’t. His throat felt tight and his chest hurt like his ribs were a size too small.
Stiles spun in place, unsure what to do with himself, and caught sight of Maria nearby, staring at him. His feet carried him over and he stood there for a moment, silently. What the fuck?
Finally Maria shook herself a little, then frowned apologetically. “Sorry if I, uh, interrupted.”
“No, no you’re fine. I just…” Stiles trailed off.
“We don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here if you need to,” Maria said, and Stiles knew she meant it. He wanted to cry all over again. Stiles did actually really need to talk about it because… what the fuck?
“I don’t know what just happened.” Maria was already aware of the Derek and Stiles situationship, having met Derek at the library and a few other times. “I thought things were going really… great.” His voice cracked on great and Stiles shut his eyes, taking another deep breath.
The thing was, he did think things were going really great. Since Derek had moved into the apartment, Stiles had barely spent any time in his dorm. They were always hanging out at Derek’s place, having sex, obviously, but also just watching movies, studying, sleeping curled up against one another, and eating breakfast together at the table Stiles had helped pick out. Stiles got to witness Derek’s adorable bedhead regularly, and it was nice, achingly, breathtakingly nice . He knew the other shoe would drop at some point but he thought he’d at least know why when it did.
Stiles relayed the last several minutes to Maria, leaving out the part about the claws.
She squinted up at Stiles, hesitating for a minute before saying, “It sounds a little like he was insulted that you said you weren’t dating.”
Stiles ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “He’s the one who doesn’t want to date!”
Maria patted his arm sympathetically. “Okay, but have you talked about that with him… recently? Because if I’m being 1000% honest, it really, really seems like you’re dating.”
Stiles groaned. “This is so dumb!” And it was. Derek didn’t want to date Stiles. That was the whole point. The whole point of their whole thing. Stiles pined after Derek, taking whatever scraps Derek was willing to give him, and Derek steadfastly did not get over his very understandable but very annoying commitment issues, and they both pretended that instead of doing that, what they were doing was having a very adult, very consensual friends-with-benefits, no-strings-attached non-relationship relationship. Which was exclusive. And made them both extremely happy. And involved a lot of cuddling and a shared future together. Fuck.
“If he wanted to actually, for real date, why wouldn’t he just say that?” Stiles asked desperately.
“Boys are stupid. Now go run after him,” she said sagely, nodding towards the door.
“God, you’re so right. Thank you.” And before Stiles could think too hard about it, he turned on his heel and headed for the back door.
Steeling himself, Stiles turned the handle. He was going to do it. He was going to clarify to Derek how he felt, and if Derek tried to do the panic break it off thing, he was going to point out that everyone already thought they were dating. They’d gone furniture shopping, for god’s sake! That was so domestic, they’d practically skipped dating and went straight to marriage! It’s not like Derek loved him, but there was definitely something more than friendship there!
Stiles’s heart hammered as he stepped onto the porch.
There was no one there.
Correction, there was Jeremy standing at the far corner of the porch, leaning out over the railing, which was frankly worse than no one. Who even invited him? And did Derek seriously leave without even saying goodbye? That was so fucking rude. And immature. And exactly like something Derek fucking Hale would do.
Stiles was fuming, hands shaking. As he closed his eyes, his emotions flipped from fury to desperation to bone-deep sadness in microseconds. He had to get out of here. The absolute last thing he needed was Jeremy to see him cry. At least with the year over, he’d never have to share a room with that asshole again. Not that he’d really been home much lately. Because of Derek. Fuck fuck FUCK.
“Stiles,” Jeremy said, gripping his shoulders, and Stiles jumped, startled, his eyes flying open. He’d been too distracted to notice Jeremy walk over. He tried to jerk off Jeremy’s hands, but they gripped him so hard it hurt.
“I’m not in the fucking mood for your shit, Jeremy,” Stiles snarled. The year was over. He didn’t have to deal with this guy anymore. And he was profoundly not in the mood for Jeremy’s bullshit.
“I just saw- I swear I’m not crazy, I just s-saw-” Jeremy stuttered and then closed his mouth with an audible click. Stiles took a moment to finally get out of his own head and realized that Jeremy was wild-eyed and trembling. Stiles’s heart went into overdrive again, but he suddenly felt much, much more sober.
“What did you see, Jeremy?” Stiles asked forcefully, and dread crept up his spine.
“There was this guy, he came out of nowhere. I swear, he was just suddenly here and then h-he tackled your friend and just dragged him away.” Jeremy was whispering, voice hoarse with emotion.
First, Stiles was shocked, then terrified, then really really angry.
“So what?” Stiles practically spit, “You just stood there? You just let Derek get taken? Like a coward?” Stiles shook Jeremy’s hands off his shoulders. He knew he wasn’t being fair. What could Jeremy actually have done against a hunter? Because surely, that’s who that was. A hunter.
A hunter who had taken Derek. When Derek had drank wolfsbane-infused alcohol and therefore was not only drunk but also couldn’t heal. Stiles’s heart skipped a beat.
Jeremy was sputtering a retort, but Stiles wasn’t paying attention. “Where did they go? Which way did he take Derek?”
Jeremy’s face was screwed up the way it usually looked before he said something sarcastic and rude to Stiles, so before he could speak, Stiles found himself taking a firm step forward, gripping Jeremy by the front of his shirt.
“Which way did they go?” Stiles repeated loudly. Jeremy pointed.
Stiles took off at a run and then slowed down after a few minutes of crashing into branches. He was making too much noise. Hunters were professionals. If that guy could hear him coming, then he’d simply go a different route, making it much, much harder for them to be found. Fuck. FUCK. He needed to think, really think, be clever about this, but it was impossible when his heart was hammering so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else. This was his fault. His dumb idea, his stupid “College Experience” list. Derek would have never been in such a compromised position otherwise. No hunter could have sneaked up on Derek like that, let alone taken him that quickly if Derek had been sober and at full strength. He had served up Derek to this hunter on a silver platter, and now Derek was probably d-
No.
He couldn’t think like that, couldn’t let his mind go there. He was already on the edge of a panic attack, and that wasn’t helpful. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take a long breath in and then out.
Then he did what he always did when he was truly panicked. He called Scott and Lydia.
Whispering in the dark of the forest, Stiles told his friends what happened as succinctly as he could.
“Listen, Stiles,” Lydia immediately started and Stiles almost wept with relief. That was Lydia’s plan-making voice, and god did he need a Lydia Plan. “Scott and I are going to drive to where you are as quickly as we can without getting pulled over by police. Share your location with us on your phone, and we’ll find you. You need to try and find Derek. Look for signs of a struggle. Even with wolfsbane in his system, Derek wouldn’t have gone quietly. There will be snapped branches, kicked up mud, that kind of thing. Once you find him, watch and wait. Don’t do anything stupid. If you need to stall the hunter, stall, distract, but don’t try to fight him.”
“Yeah,” Scott cut in, “we’ll fight him.” And from the growl in Scott’s voice, Stiles knew he meant it.
Sir yes, sir, Stiles thought, but couldn’t bring himself to make the joke. “Okay. See you soon. Get here fast. ”
“We will,” Scott and Lydia replied in unison, hanging up.
And then it was just the night sounds of the forest and Stiles’s racing thoughts to keep him company.
***
Stiles did what he was told. He shared his location with Scott and Lydia, and then he got to business finding clues. After several false starts and dead-ends, he was pretty sure he was on the right path. Every few feet there were gouges in the forest floor like a man digging in his heels while being dragged. This, combined with some very freshly-looking snapped branches and even a tree with claw marks in it, told Stiles that not only was Derek being dragged through this forest, he was being dragged while awake.
That was very good. Well, not good. But definitely better than if Derek had still been knocked out. The signs of struggle had only started a little ways into the forest, which suggested to Stiles that the hunter had managed to knock Derek unconscious or otherwise subdue him, but then, a short while later, Derek must have woken up. And if the signs of struggle continued, then that meant the hunter, for whatever reason, couldn’t re- subdue Derek. Which was also good, all things considered.
Strong moonlight filtered through the trees, and realization dawned on Stiles. It was a full moon.
The cycle of the moon wasn’t something Stiles had thought actively about since Scott had gotten his wolfy powers fully under control. A new werewolf couldn’t control his aggression, his instincts, his shift, but a werewolf with several years of experience was different. Scott was a little testy on full moons, a little prone to lashing out at small things or picking dumb fights, but it wasn’t that dissimilar to when Lydia was PMSing particularly strongly. Not that he would tell Lydia that. Ever.
But that didn’t mean the full moon had no effect.
That meant two things: One, it was entirely possible that the full moon, and the power it leant werewolves, shortened the half-life of wolfsbane, explaining how Derek could have woken up after being, say, tranquilized. And two, Derek had maybe overreacted earlier because not only was he hurt, he was also drunk and had heightened emotions from the full moon. Of course, he was mad at Stiles. And maybe that meant that they could fix this. Maybe that meant that if he could help get Derek out of this mess he had put him in, maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. Please, please, he begged into the ether, please let everything be okay. For once.
***
There.
Voices.
One voice, in particular, that Stiles would recognize blind-folded, in his sleep, anywhere. Derek.
Holding his breath to keep quiet while he got into his position behind a large tree, Stiles just barely peeked his head out enough to peer into the darkness. A darkness punctured by the low light of a single electric lantern. Stiles could just barely make out two hulking shapes. One was a tall, burly man. Stiles couldn’t see much, but he could tell there were objects strapped to his body, likely guns and knives and whatever dumb little toys made hunters feel brave.
The other shape was unmistakably a cage. From the shadows alone, Stiles could tell that Derek was partially shifted inside the cage, not quite human or wolf. Stiles’s heart ached. Derek in a cage.
“All you need to do is howl to your little friends and they’ll come save you, right?” the hunter was saying, pacing in front of the cage. He poked a long shot gun through the bars of the cage and lifted Derek’s chin. “Go on, wolf, howl. ”
For a moment, Stiles’s heart seemed to stop. But before he could blink, Derek’s teeth had latched on to the gun and crunched. Holy shit. Derek just smashed the muzzle of the gun with his teeth. If it wasn’t such a dumb, life-risking move, Stiles would have been impressed. What if the gun had gone off, though? Derek was clearly barely thinking.
And who could blame him? Stiles thought. Derek was trapped in a cage, clearly only kept alive because the hunter thought Derek had a whole pack and the guy must have wanted to lure them here to his base where he had hella weapons and shit to take them out.
Stiles squinted at the camp and thought he could make out the outlines of bear traps on the ground. Bear traps. This guy was dumb as bricks if he thought a few bear traps could take out a pack of wolves.
Better safe than sorry, though.
As silently as he could, Stiles slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. It had been a while. Long enough for Scott and Lydia to be nearby? He texted them just in case.
Stiles: The hunter’s camp is full of traps. He’s waiting for a pack to arrive. Derek in cage.
Lydia: Just met up with Scott. We’re closeby.
Stiles: Gonna lure the hunter out.
Scott: Be careful.
Stiles picked his way carefully through the forest, placing each foot painstakingly slowly. After he had moved far enough away from the camp that there was no danger of traps but close enough that he thought the hunter could still hear him, Stiles stepped out into the open.
“Hello?” Stiles called, trying his best to sound like the drunk college kid he’d been only an hour or so ago, only drunker and dumber. “Is anyone out there? I think I’m really, really lost!”
When nothing happened, Stiles continued, “hello! I thought I heard voices! Can you help me? I’m over here! Maybe your camp is just a little bit farther away? I wish I knew shit about camping!” He was laying it on thick, but his hope was that the hunter wouldn’t want anyone stumbling on his camp. It would be pretty difficult to explain a wolf-man in a cage, and the hunter couldn’t kill a human, right? Most hunters had a code against killing humans, and Stiles severely hoped this guy was most hunters.
“For fuck’s sake,” Stiles just barely heard from the direction of the camp, and sure enough, it sounded like the hunter was making his way over to him.
After a minute or so, the hunter crashed through the trees into the clearing.
“The path is way back that way, boy,” the hunter ground out, pointing behind Stiles.
“Oh my god, oh my god, thank goooood, you’re here,” Stiles said, tripping over his own shoes in his pretend haste to move towards the man. He face-planted at the man’s feet and groaned. “I can’t believe I got so drunk and so lost,” Stiles wailed, really hamming it up. He rolled around on the ground a little for good measure.
“Get up, ” the hunter said with disgust, making no move to help him.
The man tried to move back, but Stiles clutched at the hunter’s pants. “Please, I need help,” Stiles pretended to sob, and used the man’s body as leverage to right himself. On the way up, Stiles was sure to grip the man’s pockets for support, almost tearing them off.
“Do not touch me, boy,” the hunter spit, shoving Stiles off.
Stiles let himself be shoved then scrambled backwards, trying to put as much distance between himself and the hunter now that he had what he needed. Of course the dumbass had kept his keys in his pocket.
“I’m soooo sorry, this whole night has been such shit, I can’t belieeeeve I’m lost in a forest, ” Stiles babbled, still moving backwards. He heard a growl from the direction of the camp and squeezed his eyes shut briefly, trying not to get distracted. Derek could definitely hear Stiles’s voice, and he definitely was not happy.
The hunter’s head whipped around at the sound of Derek’s growl and then turned back to Stiles, eyes narrowing. Stiles quickly got to his feet. Maybe this guy was not quite as dumb as Stiles was hoping.
Just as Stiles wondered how much longer he should be stalling for, and whether the hunter would let him stall further, he heard the distinct sound of snapping twigs and heavy footsteps. The hunter must have too because he suddenly cocked his gun in the direction of the sounds. It was a smaller gun than the one Stiles had seen him with earlier, but it still looked plenty lethal. Stiles swallowed nervously.
When Lydia stepped out of the forest, though, the hunter hesitated.
Huge mistake.
Without warning, Scott in full wolf form launched himself out of the forest from the other direction, colliding with the hunter in a blur of motion. For a moment, Stiles froze, transfixed by the sight. They struggled, locked in some kind of terrifying embrace, and then Scott flinched back with a whine. Separated, Stiles assessed the damage. Oh god, the hunter was bleeding in multiple places, but Scott had a knife sticking out from his side.
“Stiles, leave, ” Lydia yelled as he took a half-step towards Scott. As much as he wanted to help his best friend, he had to trust, well, his other best friend. Stiles gave a quick nod to Lydia then booked it across the clearing. As he ducked back into the density of the trees, he glanced behind him, then swiftly stuck his fingers in his ears as he watched Lydia’s mouth open inhumanly wide.
The hunter stared at Lydia with pure shock and pain as she let out a horrible screech, directly focused on him. Clearly the man had never met a banshee before.
Turning back around, Stiles dashed through the trees as fast as he could, paying no attention to the branches snagging at his clothes and whipping his face.
A moment later, he was back at the hunter’s camp. Derek was snarling, visibly enraged. His claws gripped the bars of the cage, making surprising progress on bending the bars. The wolfsbane must be almost completely out of his system by now.
“Derek, Derek, it’s me. It’s Stiles,” he called out, slowly approaching the cage. The last thing he wanted was for Derek to take a swipe at him in confusion.
Derek let out a low growl, bearing his teeth.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for everything,” Stiles murmured horsley, choking up. “But I have the keys, and I’m going to let you out, okay?” He looked into Derek’s eyes, and the pain there sent him over the edge, tears flowing freely down his face now.
Derek quieted, moving back as much as he could inside the confines of the cage.
Stiles stepped forward slowly, waiting a moment to be sure Derek was truly calm now. He took the hunter’s keys, the ones he’d stolen from the man’s pockets, and fumbled with the lock, hands shaking.
Mercifully, he managed to open the cage without dropping the keys.
In the span of a blink, Derek was out of the cage, and clutching Stiles. His claws retracted enough to touch Stiles without hurting him, and his hands moved over every inch of Stiles, checking for injuries.
“Hey, hey, I’m okay,” Stiles said, clutching Derek right back. They were both shaking now, trembling, and Stiles could barely hold in a sob. All he wanted to do was take Derek back to their home, clean him up, make him a big mug of tea, and hold him, just hold him until this all felt like a distant memory.
But first, they had to make sure it was safe.
“Listen, Scott and Lydia are here, and they’re fighting the hunter-” Stiles started, and before he could say more, Derek was on his feet. “Are you sure you’re okay enough to fight?”
Derek ignored his question, typical Derek, and then narrowed his eyes at Stiles, assessing.
“What are you-” Stiles started and then yelped. Derek had scooped him up in his arms and was running through the forest, already back at the clearing in the time it took Stiles to take a single breath.
Derek carefully placed Stiles on the forest floor, growling, “Stay here. ”
“I should be telling you that!” Stiles called after Derek as the wolf threw himself into the throng, but he did as he was told. The last thing he wanted was for Derek to get injured because he was distracted by keeping Stiles safe. Stiles sighed heavily, wishing, not for the first time, that he could be more helpful in a fight.
Not that it was much of a fight, in the end. With two wolves and a banshee versus one hunter, the numbers were skewed heavily in their favor. The hunter put up a surprisingly good fight, dodging quicker than Stiles thought a human could and getting back up over and over again. Just as he attempted to rise, bleeding, for a final time, Derek pinned him back down with a huge claw. He growled so loudly the trees shook, and Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t squeamish, but he’d still rather not see the killing blow.
“You have two choices,” Stiles heard Derek say, though, and Stiles opened his eyes with surprise. Derek hadn’t killed the hunter. His face was just human enough for speech to be possible, long canine teeth dripping with saliva, and his clawed hand, paw?, was raised right above the hunter’s throat, a clear threat, but he hadn’t actually made the killing blow yet. “Either you run away, fast, and never come back, or I kill you.”
The hunter made a strangled sound of pure fear.
“What’s your choice?” Derek prompted. Stiles could see he was shaking. He wondered at the restraint it must have taken to overcome his instincts, and why Derek bothered to present the hunter with the choice. What if he lied? What if he said he wasn’t going to come back and then did?
“I’ll leave,” the hunter said, speaking so quietly it was barely audible where Stiles was still sitting.
“Smart choice,” Derek said, and just like that, he let the hunter go.
Stiles saw Scott give Derek a stiff nod of approval, which was just like Scott, more concerned with morality than safety. Not that Stiles wanted the guy to die, but, well, after seeing Derek put in a cage by that man, he kind of did.
The hunter scrambled several feet backwards before getting to his feet and immediately running away. He took off surprisingly fast for someone who was bleeding from several places, and he didn’t even go in the direction of his camp, apparently opting to leave the rest of his stuff to get out of the forest quicker. Good. Stiles wanted the chance to smash that cage to pieces.
He looked around at Scott, Lydia, and Derek, and for the first time in hours, Stiles felt like he could fully breathe again. Scott was crusted with blood, Lydia’s clothes were torn and she had a nasty bruise already forming on her jaw, and Derek, Derek, looked worst of all, clothes in absolute shreds and cuts and bruises all over his body, exhaustion clear in the set of his shoulders, but it was over, the hunter was gone, and the people Stiles loved most in life besides his dad were safe and together.
***
They did all the sensible things. They dismantled the hunter’s camp, disarmed the bear traps, and finally trudged out of the forest. After checking that none of their wounds were serious, Lydia and Scott took turns taking showers back at Derek’s bungalow, and Stiles attempted to leave to get tacos, got growled at by Derek, and instead, made a huge pot of pasta. Stiles tried to suggest Derek take a shower too, but he mumbled, barely audible, that he’d do it later, threw on a fresh shirt, and hovered in the kitchen while Stiles cooked.
It was late enough that Stiles absolutely insisted Lydia and Scott stay the night, and neither of them even pretended to protest, eyes barely open while they scarfed down their food. For about two minutes after Stiles showed them to the guest bedroom, he could hear Scott and Lydia bicker over who was more likely to hog the blankets, but then it was just silence and snoring.
Stiles turned to Derek, who had still barely said a word since getting back home. His healing had kicked in and closed up all his wounds, which meant that the wolfsbane was fully out of his system. With the fresh shirt, you could have looked at him and not realized anything was wrong. But Stiles ached to see how shuddered his gaze was, how deep the lines below the grim set of his mouth were. Derek had been through something terrible tonight, and Stiles had not forgotten that it was entirely his fault.
“Do you want me-” Stiles started then swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, “to go back to my dorm?” He looked down, at the floor, anywhere but Derek, but his head snapped back up when he heard the deep, feral growl from the wolf opposite him.
Stiles took a reflexive step backwards, apologizing before he knew what for. For everything, he supposed. For pressuring Derek into experimenting with wolfsbane, for telling Stacy they weren’t dating, for not being strong enough to fight the hunter himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Stiles repeated, and realized he was crying again.
Derek was across the room in two large strides, pressing Stiles into his chest. Stiles hesitated for only a moment and then squeezed Derek with every ounce of strength he had. Derek wrapped his arms around him and placed his head over Stiles’, enveloping Stiles with his entire body. They stayed like that for several minutes, and something loosened deep inside Stiles.
“Stay,” Derek whispered, words tickling the edge of Stiles’ ear, and Stiles nodded vigorously against Derek’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispered again. He was grateful for Derek letting him stay. There was literally nowhere else he’d rather be. And yet… Stiles couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t really deserve to.
Derek moved back just slightly from Derek, shifting his hands from Stiles’ back to his head. He tipped Stiles’ face up so Stiles was forced to look at Derek, and Stiles shuddered from the emotion he saw in Derek’s eyes.
“It’s not your fault, Stiles,” Derek said firmly, and Stiles tried to look away. Derek didn’t let him, turning Stiles’ face once more to him. “It’s not.”
“But the wolfsbane was my idea, the stupid college experience to-do list, and I told Stacy we weren’t dating because I thought that’s what you wanted when I could have just kept my mouth shut, or asked you if that’s still want you wanted, and I didn’t run after you fast enough, and I couldn’t fight the hunter, and-” Derek cut off Stiles’ babbling by pressing his mouth firmly over Stiles’ own. When he pulled back, Stiles opened it again to try and explain more, but Derek spoke first.
“You saved me,” Derek said softly. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” and then Derek swooped back in, kissing first his mouth and then his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, before returning, tenderly this time, to his mouth, nipping at Stiles’ lips until Stiles opened them with a sigh. Stiles twined his fingers into Derek’s hair as Derek’s tongue stroked his own. They kissed passionately, reverently, telling each other with their bodies what they’d failed to do so with words- that they were safe now, and that’s all that mattered.
After a while, they pulled apart, panting, and then Derek yawned wide, canines glinting in the low light from the living room lamp.
“We should shower and get you to bed,” Stiles said, nudging Derek with his shoulder. “Do you want to go first?”
Derek looked at him a moment, and then spoke softly, “Shower with me. I.. don’t want to be alone.” He ducked his head, but Stiles kissed his cheek, feeling tender with barely-contained feeling.
“Okay,” Stiles said, and squeezed Derek’s hand.
It was somehow more intimate than any sex they’d ever had, showering together. Derek lit the candle he kept on the counter, but kept the lights off, and the light flickered across each other’s faces as they stood under the spray. While Derek washed his hair, Stiles soaped a washcloth and then ran it over Derek’s body. He was glad Derek didn’t tell him not to, just hummed in contentment when Stiles rubbed circles over the taut muscles of his back.
Stiles felt his cock stir as he moved the washcloth over Derek’s thighs, thankful for the shadows hiding Derek’s own so that Stiles wasn’t tempted to look. Derek was tired, and only recently healed, and Stiles was afraid of ruining the perfection of the moment with his own arousal. Derek rinsed and then took the washcloth from Stiles, soaping it back up.
“You don’t have to-” Stiles said at the same time as Derek said, “Can I?” and they looked at eachother a moment before Stiles nodded, shyly. There was just enough light for Stiles to see Derek’s mouth turn up at the corners.
Derek washed him achingly slowly, dragging the washcloth over his arms, his chest, his legs, even his feet. Stiles' breath hitched as he felt Derek rub the washcloth up the length of his inner thigh and then hesitate at his groin. The sight of Derek kneeling, level with Stiles’ rapidly hardening cock, was almost too much, and Stiles was tempted to turn away. As if he sensed this, Derek gripped Stiles’ hip with one large hand, and moved the other to run the washcloth lightly, tantalizingly lightly, over Stiles’s cock.
Stiles gasped, and then groaned as he caught sight of Derek’s expression, which could only be described as wolfish , a wicked gleam glinting in the darkness of his eyes. Derek ran the washcloth over the length of Stiles’s cock, feeling the hardness of him, before depositing it with a wet plop on the shower floor. He pushed Stiles into the spray and looked up at Stiles as the soap slid from his body. Stiles was aware he was breathing hard, unable to look away from Derek. Derek’s nostrils flared as he scented Stiles, and a flicker of candlelight showed Stiles that Derek was every bit as aroused as he was. Before Stiles could dwell on that, though, Derek was moving forward, hand gripping the base of Stiles’ cock as he licked up the length of it.
Derek’s mouth moved away and Stiles nearly begged him to return, but then his hand was pumping up and down him as his mouth worshiped Stiles’ inner thighs. The warm water of the shower heightened the sensation until Stiles was practically writhing, his fingers moving to grip Derek’s freshly washed hair.
“Stiles,” Derek groaned into Stiles’ skin as Stiles tugged at his hair. A fresh wave of arousal shot through Stiles at the sound his name, and fuck, fuck, he needed Derek’s mouth, needed Derek.
“Derek,” Stiles groaned in response, and it was testament to how far gone he was that he forgot to worry about Lydia and Scott hearing them from the other room.
At last, Derek moved his mouth to cover Stiles’s cock, swallowing the length of it and then sucking firmly from the base to the tip. One of Derek’s hands was still gripping the base of him but the other kneaded Stiles’s ass and then pulled Stiles forward, forcing Stiles to press firmly into Derek’s face.
“Derek, Derek, Derek, please,” Stiles pleaded, past caring about anything but the feeling of Derek’s lips wrapped around him. Stiles could feel the bass vibrations of Derek’s rumbling growl as Derek picked up in rhythm and pressure, and then suddenly, suddenly, Stiles was coming, fingers tightening in Derek’s hair as his back arched back. Wave after wave of pleasure wracked through his body until he was shaking, spent.
When Stiles opened his eyes, he saw Derek, still kneeling on the shower floor, water flowing over him, one hand braced against the shower wall and the other gripping his cock and with a final tug, Derek was arching back, coming with a gasp. Stiles leaned down, closing the space between them, and kissed Derek, wanting to feel that gasp in his mouth, wanting to taste his relief.
Derek kissed him back, water washing over both of them as both of their breathing slowed at last.
They shut off the shower and toweled themselves dry, brushed their teeth. At one point, Derek caught Stiles’ eye in the mirror and grinned around the plastic of his toothbrush. Stiles blushed but grinned back.
Finally, as they laid in bed together, Stiles reached for the lamp and then hesitated, looking back at Derek.
“I love you,” Stiles said, and he held Derek’s gaze for a long moment, hoping his eyes conveyed the nuance of this statement- that he’d love Derek for a long time and would for a long while yet, forever even.
“I love you too,” Derek said quietly, voice brimming with emotion, and brushed a gentle kiss across Stiles’ lips.
And then Stiles turned off the light and curled into the crook of Derek’s arm, feeling safe and warm and right.
***
In the morning, Stiles awoke to the delicious smell of what was definitely pancakes and heard the muffled sounds of Lydia and Scott through the closed door of the bedroom. Blessings to you and ten generations of your families, thought Stiles. God, I want pancakes.
Derek was blinking blearily, clearly woken up by the same smell, and Stiles couldn’t resist pressing a small kiss to the stubbled cheek of the adorable werewolf. Before he got up, though, he needed to clear something up.
“Derek?” Stiles whispered. He knew Scott would probably hear anyway, but he had to at least try to keep the conversation private.
“Hmf?” Derek said, turning his face to nuzzle into Stiles’s neck.
“We’re dating now, right? I can call you my boyfriend?”
Derek huffed out a laugh and then sat up, looking at Stiles with joy and relief in his eyes.
“Yes, Stiles.”
They gazed at each other for a moment, grinning like idiots.
“Good,” Stiles finally said, “Let’s go eat pancakes now.”
***
*~*~EPILOGUE~*~*
The last weekend of summer, on a clear, bright day, Stiles pressed a cold beer bottle against his neck and tried not to let drool hang out of his mouth as he observed the deliciously masculine sight of Derek Hale, in all his shirtless glory. Derek’s back muscles flexed, sweat glistening on their chiseled plains, as Derek flipped over another burger.
“God, you’re so gross,” Lydia said to Stiles, fondly, and Scott nodded vigorously in agreement.
As Stiles opened his mouth to say something crass, Scott added, “I’m glad you’re happy, though, man. You guys both deserve happiness.” Scott flashed him a grin, and Stiles felt a rush of love for him, and Lydia, and everyone gathered in Derek’s, in their backyard. And for Derek, of course. He blushed.
“Thanks for coming, guys, I really appreciate it. Don’t get a big head about this,” Stiles played up looking pointedly at Lydia, “but I love you both a lot.”
Lydia rolled her eyes but then kissed his cheek.
Scott grinned wider and spread his arms wide. “How could I miss this? The first annual Derek-Stiles,” Scott paused, “Diles? Sterek?” Stiles shoved him lightly and Scott finally continued, “Summer Fun Barbecue!”
“Summer Fun?” Derek said, turning around from the grill to raise an eyebrow at Scott.
“Annual?” Stiles added. “Maybe it’s a one-time thing, you don’t know.” Stiles was joking but there was still that kernel of insecurity. This was the happiest he’d been in his entire life, and sometimes he felt like if he let himself enjoy it too much, let himself look to the future, he’d jinx the whole thing.
Derek looked at him, and Stiles got the uncanny feeling that he could tell what Stiles was thinking.
“You’d let my home-made burgers be a one-time thing? I shaped these patties with my hands, Stiles.” Stiles opened his mouth to ask what else he’d shape the patties with and then closed it, giggling a little, as Derek continued, “The Sterek Barbecue will be at least Annual.”
“At least?” Stiles prompted, fishing now.
“At least,” Derek answered gravely. “Maybe multiple times a year. Every year. Until we’re too old to stand in front of the grill, and then we’ll make Scott’s kid do it.”
“Wait, why is it my kid, grilling?” Scott asked with a laugh.
“Well, I’ll be too focused on my career for kids, and Derek and Stiles’s kids will be too feral to work a grill,” Lydia answered.
“Feral!” Stiles and Derek exclaimed at the same time and then grinned at each other.
“Yeah, you’ll be too busy making kissy faces at each other to tell them they can’t remain in wolf form 100% of the time,” Lydia said. Thankfully, Maria and a few of Stiles’s other friends had gone inside to make a salad and didn’t hear the wolf part.
Derek started laughing so hard he doubled over, and Stiles stared at him with pure joy. Here he was, in the backyard of a beautiful bungalow he shared with Derek, and here were his best friends safe and laughing, and here was Derek, gorgeous, smart, supportive, fiercely loyal Derek, not just okay, but clearly having a great time, clearly happy, and somehow, by some unreal twist of fate, it was Stiles who got to share in his happiness.
He shook his head and smiled to himself.
Lydia and Scott went inside to grab drinks, and Derek caught Stiles’s eye.
“What?” Derek asked softly, and Stiles knew he was asking about the head shake.
“Nothing, I’m just. I’m really happy. And I’m glad you seem really happy too. And I just can’t believe my luck sometimes, you know?” Stiles laughed nervously, “Like how am I allowed to be this happy?”
Derek’s smile stretched wide across his face. “I feel the exact same way.”
Stiles thought he would leave it at that, but then Derek looked at him, and his eyes were serious. “This is long overdue, but I never got to thank you for everything you did for me. For how much effort you put into the College Experience To-Do List, and how much time you took to make me feel welcome here and… loved.”
Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. “Please don’t thank me when that dumb to-do list almost got you killed.”
A corner of Derek’s mouth lifted up. “Okay, yeah, I didn’t love that part. And I’m probably never going to do any wolfsbane experiments ever again. But still, no one has ever cared about me the way you do, Stiles.” Derek took a deep breath, “And I know it’s going to take a long time until either of us stops feeling like….” Derek paused, searching for the right words.
“Like we’re too unlucky for this kind of luck? Like something terrible has to happen eventually?” Stiles supplied, speaking softly so Scott and Lydia couldn’t hear them through the screen door.
Derek smiled at him, a tinge of sadness in the set of his mouth. “Yeah. Yeah exactly. But Stiles, I promise that I’m going to keep loving you for as long as you’ll have me. And anything terrible that comes our way, we can take on.”
“Together?” Stiles asked, looking up into Derek’s eyes, and almost shuddering with the fondness he saw there.
“Together. I promise.”
Stiles’s answering “I love you,” was swallowed up by Derek’s mouth swooping down to cover his own.
The kiss was intense, like they both were trying to pour the depth of their appreciation for each other into it, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer sun spread through Stiles.
Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, and Stiles felt Derek’s heart beat through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and closed his eyes, savoring the feeling. That is, until Scott and Lydia came back outside and made fun of them for being “ too cutesy.”
“Just cutesy enough, I think,” Derek replied, deadpan, and Stiles laughed until he cried. God, he loved that man.