Chapter Text
1.1: Wolfmoon
So maybe Stiles took way too much Adderall, because he had to be hallucinating right now, because Stiles was pretty sure that Derek Hale could not be standing in his bedroom, because that would be weird.
Beyond weird. Like a weird that Stiles wasn’t used to, like wolves in California, and Scott saying that he has super hearing.
“Genim Stilinski. Age 16. You prefer to go as Stiles. The Sheriff’s only son. Your mom died around three years ago. Tragic accident.”
Stiles flinched.
“Um, A+,” he answered because he didn’t know what else to say other than demand why Derek was in his room, and the guy was intimidating enough that Stiles wasn’t going to question it.
Stiles couldn’t be sure that Derek had actually sighed and rolled his eyes because it looked so out of place. He looked back at Stiles and Stiles swore that his eyes shone blue for just a second.
So there was a possibility that all of this could just possibly be a dream. Stiles was pretty much asleep at his desk when he heard his window creak slightly.
“Is there another reason you’re here? Other than to loom creepily and tell me stuff about myself, which is pretty stalkerish by the way. Is this retaliation for Scott and I trespassing on your property? Because I swear I didn’t know, and this is a bit excessive. My window was shut for a reason.”
If this was a dream, and Stiles was pretty sure that’s what it was, then maybe he could get an answer out of Derek as to why Scott believed he had super powers. Maybe Derek was playing out the part of his subconscious, which was weird, but made sense in a sick sort of way.
Of course Stiles subconscious would choose someone as intimidating as Derek to portray itself.
Maybe Stiles shouldn’t have eaten the cold pizza that his dad had left over for him in the fridge.
There was a growling sound almost like a rabid dog, and Stiles looked back at Derek because he had spaced out for a second there, and Derek was much closer than he was before, and he had a five o’clock shadow, and for some odd reason Stiles felt the urge to touch it.
That is until he realized that the growling sound was coming from Derek.
Derek stepped back as though he could feel the fear that was suddenly overwhelming Stiles.
He made his way over to the window, before stopping and turning back to Stiles, “Your lycanthropy theory isn’t really that far off.”
And before Stiles could make sense of that, Derek was out of his window.
Stiles just shut down his computer and walked over to his bed. He threw himself down on it, and went to sleep.
The next day when he got home from school after the lacrosse game and was starting to put the horrifying pieces together, he realized that the window was still open.
So maybe Derek hadn’t been a figment of his imagination, after all.
----
Stiles was tired. He was beyond tired. He was tired with a capital T. Tired Tired. All he wanted to do was crawl under his covers and sleep for the next century, or you know after noon tomorrow.
But today hadn’t really been his day, so why should it surprise him that Derek freaking Hale would be lurking in the shadow of his room between his bed and the door.
Except it does.
And he would have screamed, if he wasn’t suddenly becoming very intimate with a wall and had a furnace pressed against him with its hand across his mouth.
Said furnace just glares at Stiles, and Stiles is suddenly fearing for his life.
What if there was a werewolf thing that stated that only werewolves could know and that non-werewolves had to be eaten? Who was going to help Scott if Derek killed him?Derek? Like that was going to work out well for anyone. And what if Scott decided to get his head out of the Allison-shaped clouds and wanted to avenge his murder? Then what? Maybe Stiles’ Dad and Ms. McCall would turn to each other for support. And ew, now he was thinking about his dad and sex, and really, he just needs to stopthinking.
Derek steps away after giving him another threatening look that makes Stiles heart skip several beats before thundering in his ears.
“Please don’t kill me,” Stiles is impressed that his voice came out as steady as it did, because his insides sure weren’t.
Derek looks at him some more like he’s considering tearing his throat out with his teeth, but just steps two more steps back and raises his arms in the universal sign of non-threatness, “I’m not going to kill you.”
There is a yet attached to that sentence in Stiles head, and it makes his heart skip another beat.
Derek looked like he wanted to sigh and roll his eyes, but he settled for giving Stiles another glare, this one less I-want-to-rip-your-throat-out and more you’re-an-idiot-and-I-don’t-understand-why-I-have-to-put-up-with-you, which was more offensive than scary because, hey! He happened to be a great person; in fact he was amazing, because he still wasn’t freaking out as bad as he thought he would.
And there was a growling werewolf standing in front of him.
A growling werewolf.
Derek Hale was a motherfucking werewolf!
How cool was that?
Derek looked at him weirdly for a second, before shaking his head, “Listen. Scott is still out there, and he’ll probably need a ride after what just happened. Just be sure that the moon is completely gone before you go after him like a lunatic, because I have things to do and can’t be bothered to make sure that he doesn’t rip your throat out.”
Stiles took more offense at that, because he’d read the lore, he knew what was going on. He wasn’t the complete idiot that Mr. Derek I’m-so-cool-with-my-leather-jacket-and-werewolfyness-and-am-obviously-above-you-a-mere-mortal Hale was making him out to be.
He just crossed his arms across his chest, “If it’s so dangerous for me to be around Scott right now, then why are you here?”
Derek just glared some more as if that would make Stiles forget about the question and stalked back over to his window. He threw him one last glare and jumped out.
If Stiles didn’t know better, he’d think that Derek was worried about Scott killing him.
Huh.
1.2: Second Chance at First Line
“I thought I told you not to let him play in that game!”
And really Stiles had been expecting this because for one, he was partially responsible for Derek going to jail, two, he had taunted the werewolf while he was in a cage, well the back of a cop car, but that was irrelevant, and three, he had let Scott play the game because he had been under the impression that Scott could control himself in the field, but that had been a vain hope torn and thrown away in the wind, kind of like what little there had been of Derek’s reputation.
So he wasn’t all that scared, well maybe a little scared, but he wasn’t all that surprised to find himself pushed against the lockers with Derek looming over him and glaring in his face. This glare was definitely of the I’m-going-rip-your-throat-out-with-my-teeth variety, throw in a dash of and-then-I’m-going-to-feast-on-your-innards and you were all set.
“I couldn’t really force him out of the field not with Coach hovering over him like his most prized possession, and no one even noticed that he shifted! And he ran away and calmed himself before he could hurt anybody! So doesn’t this count as a win-win situation?”
Derek snarled, and Stiles managed to somehow back into the lockers more than he already was. He felt the adrenaline from worrying about Scott spike up again and his heart pounded in his throat. He’d already been almost eaten by a werewolf this week! He did not need this again!
Derek’s snarl was a bit different this time, “Scott attacked you?”
And shit, Stiles really needed to learn to keep his thoughts inside of his head. He shook his head quickly, his brain flashing, damage control, DAMAGE CONTROL, but Derek just pushed in closer, “I can tell when you’re lying, idiot!”
Stiles shook his head again, “He didn’t attack me! He just sort of chased me, but I took care of it!”
Derek stepped back away from him letting him go, and it was only by a miracle that Stiles knees didn’t buckle under his weight.
Stiles watched as Derek closed his eyes and seemed to be looking for some sort of inner peace, and Stiles wished him good luck with that because he was pretty sure there was no part of Derek that was peaceful.
He turned to maybe flee while he had his eyes closed, but Derek’s hand slammed against the locker denting the metal a little and preventing Stiles from escaping. And wow, werewolf strength was something that he did not want to test out ever.
“Since it looks like you’re going to be hanging around for a while, and you’re incapable of the basics of self-preservation here are a couple rules that you should follow when dealing with a werewolf. Rule One: Don’t. Run. Away. Werewolves like to chase their prey. Rule Two: Keep at least one object made of silver at hand at all times. Stings like hell. And Three, and this is the most important one: Stay inside on the full moon. Got it?”
Stiles wanted to protest and tell Mr. Derek I-can-intimidate-you-with-a-glare-and-therefore-think-I’m-allowed-to-give-you-orders-and-rules-to-follow Hale that he was not a little princess and that he could take care of himself whether or not he believed it.
But the glare and the way the metal was giving into his hand told Stiles that Derek wasn’t going to accept any other answer.
“Got it.”
Derek gave him this terrifying smile and pushed away from the lockers, “Good. Glad we had this chat. Next time do as I say, and we won’t have this problem.”
He turned around and left, and Stiles slumped against the lockers and looked to the side to see that Derek’s hand was imprinted into the metal of the locker. He gulped, and pushed off the lockers making his way out of the school and back to his car.
1.3: Pack Mentality
Stiles picks up his phone absentmindedly figuring that it’s his dad since Scott is out on his “group date” and he’s the only other person that ever calls him. Besides his doctor, but at nine at night it’s either or.
“Did you know that there are over one hundred different types of aconitum and seven hybrids that occur in the natural world? And it’s not only used to create poisons, there are medical uses and things like that. I thought that it was only good for pissing off werewolves.”
He laughed because it was a joke, a joke that his dad would’ve smiled at before shaking his head and telling him that he was going to be late and to not bother making him dinner, again.
But the growl that sounded over the phone was definitely not dad-like but more Derek-like, and Stiles briefly wondered how it was even possible for someone to glare at you over the phone.
“Why are you looking up the uses of Wolfsbane?”
Stiles felt a twinge in his back from the lack of impact whenever Derek spoke in that tone to him. Maybe they should conduct the rest of their hopefully brief acquaintance over the phone. God knows that it would do wonders on Stiles back.
“Research!” Stiles says happily. “What did I do this time? Why are you calling me instead of sneaking in through my window and threatening me in person? How did you get my number anyway? Was it Scott? Or did you find it when you were looking for the information about my life to throw at me, which is still creepy and stalkerish by the way. You’re lucky that Scott believes that he needs you for something or I would’ve ratted your werewolf ass to my dad a long time ago.”
Derek made this noise over the phone that spoke of the amounts of dead that Stiles would be if Derek were in the room with him, and it made Stiles smirk because that was sort of the point.
His back twinged again and this time it was in anticipation of future pain.
He heard Derek breathe deeply and was about to ask him if this was part of his creeper act where he called underage boys and breathed into the phone like a pedophile, when Derek speaks again, “Just tell me where I can find a mechanic that can fix my car window right now.”
“What happened to your car window? And how do you expect me to know where to go? It’s nine at night! Everything is probably closed. Though Dave might make an exception if I ask nicely and promise to bring May cookies the next time I visit. She loves the ones with the chocolate chips on the top instead of inside of the cookie and absolutely adores the sugar cookies I make at Christmas. I cut them up like Santa, and Snowmen, and Jingle Bells, and she giggles while she eats them it’s the cutest thing that I’ve ever seen.”
“Stiles!”
Stiles jumps because Derek’s voice practically breaks his ear drum and it sounds exasperated like if he had called his name out more than once.
“Focus, and tell me where this mechanic is.”
Stiles rolled his eyes, “His name is Dave, and he’s my neighbor. I’ll call him and tell him you’re coming through. But you have to promise me something.”
“What?” Derek almost shouts again, and Stiles wondered if Derek could feel him judging him over the phone.
“Promise me that you won’t hurt Scott.”
There was silence for a few seconds and then Derek scoffed, “Fine, whatever. But if he comes after me, I will defend myself.”
“And that’s good enough for me!”
Stiles hung up before Derek could and he looked down at the number before saving it under the emoticon for a grumpy face and calling Dave.
----
Stiles was never one to push his car to the limit, but Scott had appeared in his house looking drained and his clothes almost in tatters and he was crying and mumbling about alphas and betas and packs and being a part of someone else’s pack, and that Derek didn’t bite him, but he sure as hell kicked his ass to kingdom come.
And really Stiles had thought that he could at least trust the guy to keep his word, not break his promise not even three hours after he made it.
The tires screeched as he slammed on the breaks right in front of the Hale house, and he muttered a quick apology to his baby before getting out of the car and stalking up to the door. Derek, of course had to already know that he was coming, appeared in the door way looking as impassive as ever but his clothes were all dirty and covered in dust and Stiles felt an odd sort of pride well up in his chest because even though Scott was drained and passed out on top of his bed, at least he’d manage to give as good as he got.
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought you promised you weren’t going to hurt him! Does your word mean nothing to you? Are you just full of empty promises and burnt down memories? Because ifthat’s how you’re planning on helping Scott and if that’s what you mean when you say that he needs you, then maybe you should just pack up and go back where you came from!”
It was only after Stiles finished his rant and was taking deep breaths, did he notice that Derek was breathing harshly, and he was clenching his fist at his sides, and he looked at Stiles and his eyes were flashing blue, and oh, Stiles was going to be werewolf chow now wasn’t he.
Maybe he didn’t really think this whole driving over here to yell at Derek, who was a werewolf and could most definitely rip his throat out with just a flick of his wrist, all the way through.
He took one step back, and was close to just turning and bolting when Derek said through clenched teeth, “Stay. Right. There.”
Stiles froze and tried to calm the way his heart seemed to want to crawl into his throat and beat the rumba into his esophagus.
After a few minutes, Derek finally looked up and his eyes were back to their normal green color.
“Do you seriously lack a self-preservation gene? Who the hell thinks it’s a smart idea to go ahead and poke at something that could rip your throat out?” And his voice which was stiff cut off in a growl. He closed his eyes shaking his head and glared at Stiles, “Go away, before I actually do rip your throat out. And talk to your friend properly, before making stupid assumptions.”
Stiles didn’t run, because unlike Derek thought he did have a self-preservation gene thank you very much. He backed away slowly, and got into his car, and hightailed out of there.
His heart beat didn’t calm down until he was back in his room lying down next to Scott.
1.4: Magic Bullet
It wasn’t that Stiles was worried.
He was totally not worried.
Whoever was worried it was not him.
He couldn’t stress the fact of how not worried he was. He was so not worried that he was lying back in bed and just looking at the ceiling and thinking about maybe jerking off, because that would be a sure fire way to get him to sleep.
Not that he was having any trouble sleeping or anything, because he wasn’t worried.
He looked down at his phone again to see that it was nearing midnight and still no word for Scott or Derek, because apparently spending the day stuck inside a car with him and almost having to saw off his arm was not a valid reason to let someone know that you were okay.
Stiles had read up on werewolf healing abilities and he knew that they were ridiculously fast healers, but what he didn’t know was how a werewolf would be after nearly dying from aconitum poisoning. What he didn’t know was if a werewolf could bounce back easily from that, could just get up and leave without seeming to be in pain when just a few seconds ago he was writhing on the floor like some really attractive zombie.
Not that Derek was attractive. He was aesthetically pleasing in the same way that Stiles found Danny aesthetically pleasing, but he’d never touched his dick and thought about Danny’s abs the way he thought about Derek’s just a few seconds ago.
Not that Stiles was attracted to Derek, and not that he was worried. He just wanted to know that he was okay, because then who else was going to throw Stiles against walls and threaten him?
And it was a testament to how weird Stiles life had gotten recently that he felt like if he would miss Derek’s growl.
Curious what someone almost dying would do to someone else’s perception of them.
Not that Stiles was worried.
But maybe he was.
But just a little tiny bit.
It wasn’t even worth mentioning.
Just like the fact that Stiles thumb had hovered over the little grumpy face emoticon for a few minutes before he chickened out and tossed his phone across the room, and repeated the process about five times before he lay back on his bed and decided that he wasn’t worried about Mr. Derek I’m-just-going-to-leave-you-here-and-go-with-your-best-friend-to-some-secret-place-and-not-even-thank-you-for-keeping-me-alive-or-even-let-you-know-that-the- aconitum-poisoning-would-have-no-more-effects Hale, wasn’t worth mentioning.
It was also a testament to how weird his life was now that the light screech of his window opening didn’t even faze him.
But he did feel all of the tension drain out of him, because at least now he knew that Derek was okay.
That is until he heard the thump of something falling on the floor. He sat up in his bed, and looked to see Derek struggling to sit himself up and once he managed it he leaned against the wall his head falling back against the window sill.
Stiles walked slowly over to him because the last time he was around an injured werewolf said werewolf was threatening him with bodily harm if he didn’t cut off his arm.
And then Derek whimpered. Honest to god whimpered, like an injured puppy and Stiles somehow turned into a puddle of mush right by his feet, “Are you okay? Of course you’re not okay. Is this to do with the aconitum, or is it something else? Did you and Scott go do something stupid after you almost died from aconitum poisoning? Or did you forget that you almost died?”
So maybe Stiles had been a little more worried than he had originally thought.
Derek just looked tired, like if he didn’t have it in him to glare Stiles into submission, and that was a really scary thought, “What do you need me to do?”
Derek looked at him and half smiled, “Nothing. There is nothing I need you to do. Just go back to sleep. I’ll leave once I get the feeling back to my legs.”
“What happened?”
Derek looked like he didn’t want to talk about it, “Just pushed myself too far. Aconitum poisoning is a bitch. It hinders the healing process, so it makes it more difficult to heal from it.”
Stiles reached out and wrapped his fingers around Derek’s ankle, “If you needed to rest, why didn’t you just go home?”
Derek gave him a confused look, like he didn’t understand the words that were coming out of his mouth, and Stiles figured that maybe he didn’t, maybe the Wolfsbane in his system had affected him more than he was willing to admit even though he looked like death warmed over. But at least he didn’t look or smell like he did earlier today, when he was nearly dying. So Stiles just counted this as a win, and stood up.
He reached out and grabbed Derek around the biceps and tugged up. Derek apparently, got with the program because he got to his feet, because there was no way that Stiles would’ve been able to help him up without any help. The guy was heavy, and he leaned most of his weight on him as Stiles lead him over to his bed. He let him fall on the bed, and Derek let out a grunt.
Stiles didn’t apologize. He just threw his sheet over him, “Just be gone before my dad comes and wakes me up in the morning.”
Derek grunted again.
Stiles pulled the sleeping bag that Scott usually slept in whenever he slept over and laid back on the floor looking up at the ceiling.
He fell asleep listening to Derek’s breathing, and when his father came to wake him up in the morning he was tucked into his own bed.
He figured that was as much of a thank you as he was going to get.