Chapter Text
Before they had finished eating, Derek tipped his head in that familiar way. Stiles didn’t have to ask what he was doing. Instead, he went with, “Who’s here?”
“Peter,” Derek answered.
His hand stilled, gripping his fork a bit too tightly and jaw clenching as he recalled Stiles’ earlier revelation about Peter nearly biting him back when he had been a rogue Alpha. Derek’s eyes flared red for a few seconds and he let out a disapproving sigh before continuing to eat. It was not a good time to broach the subject. Stiles had fulfilled their agreed upon terms. He had done more than enough talking about painful subjects for one day.
Eventually, the door opened, and Peter entered the loft carrying multiple bags. He spotted Stiles and grinned before joking, “It lives!”
“Funny, that’s what we said when you came back,” Stiles taunted in reply, then added thoughtfully, “Only then it was more along the lines of, ‘Oh, fuck! It lives!’”
Peter rolled his eyes and huffed in feigned offense.
Stiles smiled before taking another gulp from the glass of water Derek had been periodically and purposefully nudging closer to him. When he set the glass down and turned in his seat, he noticed tension in Derek’s shoulders that had not been there before. Frowning, he reached over and squeezed Derek’s shoulder. Derek’s… broad… muscley… shoulder. (OMG bad idea to touch without amulets! Abort! Remove hand ASAP!) He pulled his hand back as if the contact had burned him, gripping it tightly in his other hand and willing it to behave. He managed to give Derek a curious look when the Alpha glanced over at him.
Derek arched a brow at the expression on Stiles’ face, but quickly understood that he was trying to identify the cause of Derek’s unease. He shook his head in reply, wordlessly assuring that it was nothing.
Stiles gave him a skeptical look, but shrugged, letting it go (for now) and addressing the new arrival as a means of changing the subject.
“Was I that bad last night?” Stiles teased Peter as he motioned to the bags he was carrying. “You needed retail therapy to recover?”
Peter chuckled. “While I will agree that you were certainly a handful last night, these purchases are more functional than therapeutic in nature.” He looked to Derek, opening his mouth to speak, but stopping frowning thoughtfully as he narrowed his gaze on his nephew. Deciding against asking what was wrong (and what was causing the flicker of murderous intent in the Alpha’s gaze), he said, “I purchased a few items we can use to remove your unmasked scent after you’ve been here. I know Derek stipulated that you could not wear your amulets, but I think we can all agree that it would raise some serious concerns were the pack to arrive for a meeting and catch the scent of your distress.”
Stiles winced, then nodded. “Yeah… good thinking.” He lifted his glass of water, draining it before setting it down in front of Derek purposefully. He smiled lightly at the way Derek’s lips twitched in approval.
_______________________________________________________________
The next two days saw the trio settling into a surprisingly comfortable routine.
During waking hours, Stiles was camped out on the couch, busying himself on his laptop or reading any number of the interesting books Peter offered. There were many long stretches that found Stiles staring off into space, eyes locked on the window but unfocused as he relived painful memories.
In those moments, Derek watched from a distance, knowing that the silences were necessary. He never let them go on for too long, though – always finding excuses to jar Stiles from his thoughts whenever the scent of his despair became overwhelming. His wolf was overjoyed by the amount of food he had been able to convince the teen to eat during the course of the weekend. It positively preened at the opportunity to prove what a good provider he could be for Stiles.
And God, Derek was in over his head for sure.
Conversation was kept light for the remainder of the weekend. Stiles fulfilled his end of the agreement just by staying there, amulet-free and sober.
The sleeping arrangement was a source of minor disagreement. Stiles initially attempted to insist that it would really, seriously be no problem at all for him to just crash on the couch. Derek had given him an unimpressed look and repeated his initial reasoning for them sleeping in the same room. This time, however, Stiles had huffed and refused to let Derek sleep on the floor of his own bedroom.
And so, Saturday and Sunday nights, they started off sleeping on either side of Derek’s bed. Definitely not spooning. (Not to start.) Stiles had pointed out that he needed to at least try to sleep without the Alpha wrapped around him, otherwise how was he supposed to sleep when he got home? (And Derek deserved points for restraint, he felt, for not offering to simply follow Stiles home and sleep with him there, too.)
Nightmares, of course, showed up and foiled Stiles’ avoiding-the-temptation-of-cuddling-the-uber-hot-Alpha plans. He ended up wrapped up in Derek’s arms within the first couple of hours both nights. And then, after the panic wore off, spent a solid half hour talking down his arousal and lying to himself that Derek couldn’t smell it.
Derek most definitely could smell it. And while it was incredibly distracting and tempting, it was not enough to dissuade him from providing Stiles with a sense of safety and some decent sleep. Because, once the spell of awkwardness and sexual tension gave way to exhaustion, Stiles undeniably slept very well in his arms.
When Monday night rolled around, it was time to part ways. Stiles had school the following day and the Sheriff was waiting outside to pick him up.
Derek summoned every ounce of stoicism he possessed in order to mask his disappointment as he handed Stiles his bag. His throat was tight as he said, “If you need anything… to talk… or to get away for a while… you can call. Or just show up. You’re welcome any time.”
Stiles, who had just put his amulets back in place, looked up at him in surprise. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks man. Definitely. And thanks for… you know… everything.” He motioned around the loft in a vague gesture meant to encompass all of the support Derek had provided that weekend. With a smirk, he called to Peter over Derek’s shoulder, “And thank you, too, Creeper.”
“Any time,” Derek answered sincerely, jaw clenching with restrained emotion as Stiles entered the elevator and closed the gate. He stood in place longer than was strictly necessary, watching the elevator descend, leaving the loft feeling terribly empty and cold.
Peter ribbed him about being a lost pup for a little while but, judging by the creases at the corners of his eyes and the tightness around his mouth, Derek knew that he was just as affected by Stiles leaving.
They each worked in silence to burn the neutralizing herbs and eliminate Stiles’ scent from the loft. By the time they were finished, Derek’s wolf was positively bereft.
And if he found himself outside the Stilinski residence later that night, listening to Stiles’ heartbeat in an attempt to calm himself, well… no one else needed to know.
_______________________________________________________________
In the weeks that followed, Derek checked in regularly. Borderline constantly. He sent texts. ‘Lurked’ around the high school. Stopped by Stiles’ bedroom every few days and spent more time than was probably healthy standing in his backyard in the middle of the night on nightmare patrol.
And Stiles seemed… okay. Admittedly, he was wearing those damned amulets because Derek could not ask him to take them off outside the loft. But for the most part, Stiles seemed to be coping.
Until he wasn’t.
As much as Derek would have liked to affix himself to Stiles’ side 24/7, he did have to sleep occasionally. He tried to nap while Stiles was in school, but he was long overdue for a solid sleep (considering the last time he had slept properly was when Stiles spent the weekend at the loft.)
On that eventful night, he checked in with Stiles by text and went over to see him. According to Stiles, he was planning to watch movies and call it an early night. Derek left after telling Stiles for the hundredth time that he could call him if he needed anything. And then Derek went home and crawled into bed. He plugged his phone in and put it next to the bed, volume turned all the way up because he was paranoid that one of these days, he might miss a text or call.
It was after midnight and Derek was well into a dream undoubtedly fueled by his repressed lupine instincts: chasing someone or something through the forest, growing increasingly excited by the thrill of the hunt, catching his prey only to realize as he tackled his target to the ground that it was actually –
Stiles’ ringtone echoed through the otherwise silent interior of Derek’s bedroom, startling him awake and causing him to scramble for the phone.
“ ‘ello?” he answered in a sleep-rough voice before clearing his throat and trying again. “Stiles? What’s…? Y’ okay? What’s wrong?” he asked, half hanging over the side of his bed and struggling to blink the sleep from his eyes.
“Derek, I presume?” a stranger asked in a jubilant, playful, too-loud tone, struggling to be heard over the loud music in the background.
Derek was instantly wide awake.
His brow furrowed as he sat up in bed and asked, “Who is this? Why do you have Stiles’ phone? Where…?” His chest constricted in panic as he asked, “Is he okay?”
“Listen to you!” the stranger cried gleefully, then addressed someone else – presumably, Stiles – as they said, “Aww, baby-doll, he cares about you! You should hear him over here worrying.”
Derek had to fight back a snarl as he launched out of bed, hastily pulling on clothes as he went. “Where is he? What’s going on?”
“Listen, don’t you worry your pretty head none. Stiles is very much safe and sound,” the stranger assured. “Got him tucked all up under my wing, so to speak. Seems he had himself a rotten night and then just an eensy weensy bit too much to drink, is all. And I just saw me this sweet, li’l baby gay in distress at the bar and had to swoop in to save the day… Only now, he’s all kinds of upset that he ‘messed up’ and ‘broke the agreement’ and has himself all worked up that ‘Derek is gonna be so mad’ at him. You’re still the only one he would let me call, though. Seems pretty telling to me. And you don’t sound mad, honey bear. Are you mad?”
Derek frowned deeply as he pulled on his boots, heart clenching as he caught the sound of Stiles crying in the background. He was shaking his head as he insisted, “N-no. No, I’m not mad. Tell him I’m not mad at him. Just… where are you?”
“You gonna come pick this sweet boy up?” the stranger asked with a smile plain in their voice.
“As soon as you tell me where, YES,” Derek growled impatiently, grabbing his keys and racing down the stairs, too anxious to wait for the elevator.
“Oooh! He’s comin’ for you, boo-boo! ” the stranger told Stiles with a laugh. “Mmm, and he sounds like an absolute snack, too. All gruff. Got you a rrrrr-rough neck, huh? Good for you!” Speaking into the phone again, they said, “We’re at The Jungle, lovey dove, naturally. Best place to be tonight. Thirsty Thursdays always bring out the thirstiest of revelers, after all. Now, when you get to the door, you just tell those big brutes you’re here on the invitation of ‘Miss Behaved Elegance’ and they’ll bring you to me in a jiff.”
“Okay. Okay,” he said, nodding along as he struggled to settle his nerves. “I’ll be there in a few. Can…? Can you give Stiles the phone…” He gritted his teeth before forcing out, “…please?”
The stranger – ‘Miss Behaved Elegance’, evidently – gasped and praised, “Ooh, such manners! Did my boy land himself a civilized beast or what? I can’t wait to see his knight in shining armor.” Speaking to Stiles, they said, “Sweetness… here, stop bawling for a sec before you ruin my dress. Here. Take it. Your man wants to talk to you.”
There was a lot of shuffling as the phone was passed over.
“I’m sorry, Der,” Stiles whined miserably into the phone. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have… I fell asleep and I had a really bad… And I got up and I just… I didn’t want to bother you… I thought…”
“Hey, hey – stop. It’s fine,” Derek insisted as he climbed into the Camaro. “Just… are you okay? Are you safe where you’re at?”
“Yeah… I’m safe,” Stiles sniffled. “I’m so sorry, man. I messed up again.” He stifled a sob before crying, “I keep messing up.”
“It happens,” Derek dismissed. “And I’m not angry, okay? Just… I’m gonna be there in a few minutes. Don’t go off alone with anyone, okay? Stay out in the open. And take your amulets off for me, alright? It’ll make it a little easier for me to find you in there.”
“Okay, Der,” Stiles whimpered. “I will. I’m sorry. I’ll see you in a few.”
Derek ground his teeth and pressed down harder on the gas pedal as the call disconnected.
_______________________________________________________________
Stiles reached down and removed the amulets with shaky hands before putting them in his pockets. The gasp of astonishment from the Queen beside him caused him to turn in inebriated surprise.
“What?” he asked in confusion.
“Oh, you poor li’l puddin’ pop…” they sighed, frowning pityingly. They sucked their teeth and shook their head before declaring resolutely, “No, this won’t do at all…”
_______________________________________________________________
Derek hated clubs. The smells and sounds and lights were Hell on Earth for any werewolf. When you add to that equation the fact that 1.) Derek was a born wolf Alpha – meaning he possessed the strongest senses a werewolf could hope to achieve, and 2.) he was trying to locate one scent among a veritable sea of cringeworthy smells, it only made the situation more awful for him.
But Stiles was in that club.
Crying.
Drunk.
Surrounded by strangers.
Vulnerable.
And it took pretty much every ounce of Derek’s self-control to refrain from shifting and shoving everyone out of his way in order to reach him faster.
It only took a moment of following the bouncer from the door before he caught it – Stiles’ familiar warm cinnamon scent tinged with the sharp, sour flavor of his pain and regret. With a set destination, Derek instantly cut around the bouncer that had been leading him through the club. He was not sure what to expect – probably Stiles sitting at the bar crying into a drink. What he most definitely did not expect was to find Stiles dancing in a sea of bodies, eyes closed with a look of sheer bliss on his face.
Derek came to an abrupt halt, blinking in surprise and marveling at Stiles all over again. His brows drew together as he studied the serene expression on Stiles’ face. He knew now that Stiles was prone to abrupt mood swings while intoxicated, but this seemed… different. He looked peaceful. Relaxed. His scent was growing warmer, and Derek locked onto it, nostrils flaring as he breathed it in deeply.
“You like?” a voice asked from beside him.
Derek turned to find a mocha skinned, towering vixen of a Drag Queen standing to his left, watching Stiles with a glint of pride in their dramatically and impeccably made-up eyes. Their platinum blonde hair was stacked atop their head in a complicated updo. Paired with their stiletto heels, the added 8” of hair made their impressive height all the more jarring.
“I think elation is a far better look on him than misery, wouldn’t you agree, puppy?” they asked with a grin, pulling the cherry from their drink and popping it into their mouth, tugging it from its stem with their gleaming white teeth.
Derek’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Even drunk, he knew better than to think Stiles would have ever slipped and mentioned werewolves. He could sense a subtle undercurrent of power coming off the stranger but could not place it.
“What are you?” he asked bluntly.
The Queen rolled their eyes and dropped the cherry stem into their empty glass. “So much for manners…” they hummed disapprovingly.
“You literally just called me ‘puppy’,” he reminded in a flat tone, arching a brow and keeping Stiles in his peripheral vision.
The Queen’s ruby red lips slowly tugged and spread into a smile. They nodded before huffing a laugh. “Fair enough,” they conceded, batting their fan-like eyelashes. “I suppose, ‘Alpha Hale’ would have been more courteous on my part.” They gave Derek a thoughtful look as they hummed. “I thought I smelled a wolf on him… A real wolf,” they stressed. “Not that floppy haired little cocker spaniel that was with him here last time.” They sighed and waved a hand as they said, “But with those damned amulets he was wearing, it was tough to make it out. Although… the scent’s not all that strong, is it?” With a calculating gaze, they smirked over at Derek and teased in a singsong voice, “Not like he’s been officially claimed…”
Derek’s posture went rigid, and eyes flashed a furious red in warning, his wolf raging and practically frothing at the mouth in response to the foolhardy question of its claim of Stiles.
His response earned an unexpected peel of delighted laughter from the Queen, and they clapped their hands in approval. “Yes. YES! That’s more like it, Alpha,” they praised. “You’d best take what’s yours. Snap that scrumptious li’l cupcake up before anyone else can get themselves a taste.”
“Who. Are. You?” Derek demanded around fangs in barely more than a growl.
Unconcerned by his anger, they leaned back and splayed a graceful hand on their own chest. “Who am I? Oof. Loaded question there, poochie. You can call me Miss B for short. Afraid I can’t tell you my real name, though – goes against the rules.”
Derek went still. There were a few possible creatures that refused to reveal their names. None of which boded particularly well.
Miss B winked in response to his apprehensive frown before revealing, “I can tell you… that I am Fae. Royalty, in fact.”
Derek kept his expression impassive despite the way his heart raced. He realized all too well the danger he and Stiles might be in.
“Buuuttt lucky for y’all, I try not to get mixed up in all that mess,” Miss B added with a chuckle. “I don’t go to the court. Don’t go in for all the trickery and games. Bit of a wild child myself. A black sheep. See, I prefer this…” They waved a hand to their surroundings. “The simple joys of pleasure and fun and love…”
Their smile faded into a frown, and they looked over to Stiles on the dancefloor.
“I didn’t realize how bad it was until you had him take off those amulets,” Miss B admitted. “But… when he did…” They shook their head sadly. “Alpha, that darling boy has fallen down so low that – even with all of my gifts – I had to fight to lift him back up… if only for a little while.”
Derek frowned as he watched Stiles. The teen’s eyes were still closed as he danced as if he did not have a care in the world. It was amazing to see him looking so unburdened. Derek wanted to rage against the idea of the fae using their power on Stiles but… his scent attested to the temporary reprieve he was receiving.
“Took a lot of power to help him let go like that, but trust me – he desperately needed it,” Miss B assured. Turning their openly concerned gaze back to Derek, they asked in a softer, sincerely worried tone, “What happened to him? He was so… SHINY the last time we met. Boy had a smile bigger than his damn face,” they recalled with a sad laugh. “Even hunting down that creepy-crawly lizard in here that night, his spark lit up the whole building. But… now he’s just…” They winced and studied Stiles, their eyes glowing violet for a second as they assessed him. “Pain…” they whispered. “…and darkness. It’s like there’s a pit inside him. A black hole swallowing up all his precious light.”
Derek was alarmed to find himself choked up by their words. He clenched his jaw and fought to find his voice. “He’s… been through a lot,” he answered hoarsely. “He’s trying to come out of it.”
It was not until that moment that Derek became aware of how clearly he could hear their conversation. He glanced up at Miss B in realization.
They grinned and nodded, tapping a finger to one chandelier-earing as they asked, “The sound, right? Figured it’d help you out. Just muffled the background noise for you. Hope you don’t mind. I find it’s nicer than having to shout. So – now that you realize your words aren’t gonna carry – mind telling me what did this to him?”
Derek gritted his teeth, trying to decide whether to answer that question. Stiles had clearly befriended this individual (not that Stiles likely realized the friend in high places he had made.)
Pursing his lips and exhaling through his nose, he grudgingly replied, “Nogitsune.”
Miss B’s eyes widened in disbelief before they looked back at Stiles. “How… how is he even alive?”
With the hints of a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he answered, “Because he’s Stiles. He always finds a way. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who could out-fox a fox.”
Miss B hummed and nodded, taking this into consideration. Putting their hands on their hips, they finally heaved a sighed and asked, “So… what are we gonna do about your boy?”
Derek bit his lip, fighting off warring instincts. His human side wanted to scoff and awkwardly deny that Stiles was ‘his boy’ (mostly because those words made him hyper aware of their age difference and brought to mind images of the Sheriff scowling before shooting him.) His wolf wanted to snarl that the faery would not be doing anything in relation to his future mate.
Torn between the two, Derek settled for furrowing his brow and giving Miss B a questioning look.
They rolled their eyes and huffed before stomping a heel down on the floor with a resounding ‘clack!’ “What are we going to do to help him out of this bottomless pit of despair he’s fallen into?” they demanded, gesturing over at the teen so animatedly, Derek wondered whether the Fae was picking up Stiles’ gestures. “He clearly can’t drink it away,” they continued. “The amount of liquor it would take to fill that void in his soul would drown him. Not that he hasn’t already attempted it, mind you. You shoulda felt all the damage he’d done to his insides already with all that junk he’s been taking.”
Derek winced. He had caught scent of the way Stiles’ body was struggling with what he had been doing, but to hear this creature verbalize it made his wolf want to whine pitifully.
Giving him a knowing side eye, Miss B shared, “No worries on that, though, wolfy. I fixed him up. He’s brand spankin’ new inside.” They gave a wink and a grin at the surprise on Derek’s face. A second later, their grin faded as they said firmly, “It ain’t a permanent fix, though. And it ain’t gonna mean jack shit if he keeps on wrecking himself like this.” They wagged a disapproving finger as they declared, “His days of self-medicating are OVER.” They gave a contemplative look up at the ceiling, tongue slowly dragging over their teeth before they apparently reached a decision. “That settles it,” they declared with a definitive nod. “Stiles will come here to me at least a few times a week. Whenever he wants. And I will provide him with the peace he has been trying to attain with all the booze and drugs.”
Derek could not have prevented the growl from rumbling through his chest if he tried. “No deals. No favors. Let him go and we’re leaving.”
Miss B slowly pivoted on their high heels toward Derek and arched an expertly sculpted brow. “Now, you listen here, Scrappy Doo. I am not offering either of you a ‘favor.’ I ain’t wheelin’ and dealin’ or trying to trick anyone into getting stuck in the Fae realm because, in case it wasn’t obvious? I’m not a fan.” They declared with wide eyes. “I like it here. This is my home. I am offering to make my gifts available to Stiles 100% string free because – that baby? He is a good thing. And this realm needs all the good things it can get to counteract all the bad. Hear me when I tell you that boy is at a tipping point. I can feel it – like he’s balancing on the edge of a blade. Either he turns things around now, or you will lose him. It’s as simple as that. He’s got one foot in the grave and, despite how desperately he’s fighting to climb back out, it keeps pulling him back. Take him home, see how he feels after tonight, and then let him decide. The offer stands, but don’t take too long. He doesn’t have much time.”
Derek let out a rumble, scowling at the ominous prediction as he looked over at Stiles. After a moment, he asked, “How long will this last?”
Miss B smirked. “I can give him few hours of peace if you wanna let him enjoy himself.”
After thinking it over, Derek finally nodded. “Thank you,” he managed gruffly. Arching a brow, he added sincerely, “If you’re up to anything, or you mean him any harm, I will kill you.”
“Consider me warned and suitably impressed, Alpha,” they said with a wink and a laugh. “Go on – go let your boy know you’re here. I’ll be around if you need me. While he’s like this, he’s under my protection.”
Derek nodded before setting out, cutting through the crowd to reach him. He was only a few feet away when Stiles’ eyes snapped open, and a big grin spread lit up his face.
“SOURWOLF!” he cried happily and lunged, wrapping his arms around Derek and latching on in a tight hug.
Derek froze, eyes going wide in surprise. It took him several seconds to hug him back, but that was fine, Stiles seemed oblivious to his initial awkwardness.
“How are you feeling?” Derek asked cautiously, trying to discretely find a patch of skin to touch in order to gauge Stiles’ temperature. He smelled fine – relaxed and joyful with a dash of arousal that started at the same time as the hug.
Derek swallowed hard and did his best to ignore that.
Stiles tipped his head back, gazing up at him with a dreamy smile. “You came! I can’t believe you. You’re so good, man. Just… really, really good, Der. Like… the goodest good guy in the world beneath all the scowls and growls. Somebody needs tell you that, you know?”
Biting the inside of his cheek, Derek fought to hold back a laugh. He could feel his cheeks darkening beneath his stubble and was thankful that Stiles would not be able to see his blush in the low lighting.
“I take it you’re feeling pretty good yourself then?” Derek asked, losing the battle to hold back a smile.
“Hmm… yes. So great, dude,” he sighed blissfully. “Miss B seriously hooked me up!” With a confused expression, he admitted, “I have no idea what they even spiked my drink with but, damn!”
“Faery dust,” Derek muttered.
“Dude.” Stiles chided with a disapproving frown. “That’s like… a slur, so… you know… not cool.”
Derek rolled his eyes so hard they nearly got stuck that way. “I’m bi, Stiles. I’m not a homophobe.”
Stiles made a strangled sound and nearly choked on his own tongue in response to that casually dropped piece of information. Derek could not have held back his grin over Stiles’ reaction if he tried.
"I... you...? Really? I... uh... Same. I mean... Me, too, dude," Stiles wheezed awkwardly.
"I know." Derek replied simply, prompting another coughing fit from Stiles.
He waited until the teen could finally breathe again before going on.
“And when I say, ‘faery dust’ I’m being literal, you idiot,” Derek said fondly. “Faery as in Fae. As in your Queen friend over there is a hell of a lot more than meets the eye.”
Stiles’ eyes widened and he looked over toward the bar, staring in astonishment as Miss B gave him a little wave and a wink. “Huh. No shit. How about that?”
“Only you, Stiles,” Derek said in amusement, shaking his head. “Only you could stumble into a gay bar hunting down a Kanima and accidentally befriend Fae royalty.”
“Because I’m just that awesome!” Stiles snorted before declaring, “You know you supernatural creatures all want a piece of this!”
To illustrate his point, Stiles put his arms up in the air and started dancing again. Derek arched a brow and plastered on an incredulous look, trying desperately not to be too obvious in his appreciation of the fluid movements of Stiles’ body.
“We’re all just at your mercy, clearly,” Derek said flatly (honestly.)
“You know it, big guy!” Stiles laughed, pointing at him and grinning. “Gonna dance with me this time?”
Derek blinked and gave him a look that plainly conveyed how very much that was not going to happen.
“Suit yourself!” Stiles sighed with a shrug. “One of these days, I’ll get ya!”
“You’re really feeling okay?” Derek pressed.
“Uh huh. Fucking incredible, actually,” Stiles assured. His eyes lit up excitedly as he said, “Hey, you should let Miss B hook you up! Turn that frown upside down.”
“Absolutely not!” Derek replied instantly, turning to give the Queen at the bar a warning glare. The fact that they tossed their head back and laughed confirmed his suspicions that they were listening intently to this entire conversation. “Don’t give them any ideas. Besides, one of us has to stay sober.” He watched Stiles for a minute before saying, “Alright, listen, you’re going to be feeling this for a few hours… might as well enjoy it. Go ahead and have fun. I’ll be watching, so don’t worry about anything, okay? Just get out of your head for a little while. I’ll make sure you get out of here safe when you’re done.”
Before Derek had a chance to react, Stiles leaned forward and kissed him firmly on the cheek. He stayed there for several seconds, his moist cupid’s bow lips pressed fully against Derek’s stubble making a long, drawn out, ‘mmwwaahhh!’ sound that only reached its crescendo when he had finished (unknowingly embedding the intimate scent of his kiss into Derek’s skin and facial hair where it would remain to torment him for the next day or two even after showering.)
Derek’s eyes were comically large when Stiles pulled back and grinned dopily at him.
“Thanks, Sourwolf! You’re the greatest!” Stiles declared, tapping him on the tip of his nose before turning and dancing away.
Derek remained rooted in place, staring at him for several minutes before he was finally able to get his brain to function again.
When he returned to the bar, Miss B was waiting.
“Mmmhmmm… Don’t think I didn’t see all o’ that,” they teased, holding up a shiny, acrylic-taloned finger over their martini glass.
“Shuddup,” Derek grumbled, well aware of the fact that Miss B could see his blushing with no problem.
“Ooh… the big bad wolf’s got it BAD!” they cackled. “No wonder he calls you ‘Sourwolf.’ You are just too damned precious when you’re a grumpy butt. I love it!” They leaned forward, resting their cheek on their fist and studying Derek appraisingly while he monitored Stiles out on the dancefloor. “My God… you two are the cutest li’l pair of smitten kittens I ever did see… I’m gonna be rooting for y’all from the sidelines while this plays out, trust and believe. Gonna have me breaking out pom-poms and e’rything. Like ‘Be… Aggressive! B-E- Aggressive!’ and ‘A to the L to the P-H-A, ain’t nobody better get in his way!’”
They acted out the cheers and Derek quirked a brow and gave them a baffled side eye.
“You’re insane,” he declared flatly before turning his full attention back to Stiles. Crossing his arms over his chest, he shook his head and muttered, “No wonder you get along with him.”
“Crazy respects crazy, doll face,” they laughed. “And besides, you loooooove that li’l crazy baby out there shakin’ his ass, don’t even play. You got that BIG love goin’ on. Wolfy love that comes with a capital ‘M.’ Mmmhmmm, I see you, big man.”
Derek’s eyes widened and he looked over at Miss B warningly.
They held up their hands. “Secret’s safe with me! I ain’t gonna tell nobody that your wolf’s got his heart all set already. Don’t mean I ain’t gonna be over here sending positive energy y’all’s way and whatnot. But no meddling, darling!” they rushed to insist. “Relax. I can already see you getting your eyebrows all up in a twist,” they teased. “I won’t influence matters. I’m just giving y’all my sincerest wishes that your relationship be showered with tons of love and lust and faery dust.”
Derek rumbled in irritation and frowned deeply. “No meddling,” he repeated gruffly.
“None whatsoever,” Miss B agreed with a grin. “I might just taser your ass if you keep that baby boy waiting too long, though,” they said casually while accepting a fresh martini. Winking over at Derek, they added cheerfully, “Fair warning!”
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Miss B’s magic thankfully lasted until they were back at the loft. Derek probably could have taken Stiles home, but the Sheriff was working overnight and, honestly? After receiving that call and fearing the worst, Derek could use the reassurance of having Stiles sleeping safe and sound beside him.
The closer it came to the magic wearing off, the more inebriated Stiles seemed. Although, Derek reasoned that it might have something to do with the artificial energy coming to an end and Stiles’ very real exhaustion settling in. Either way, he needed help walking from the car and had eagerly accepted Derek’s assistance in holding him up in the elevator.
Derek supported him all the way into his bedroom and did his best to ignore the way his wolf was practically yipping excitedly inside his chest as if it had WON something.
With Stiles sitting on the chair in the corner of his room rambling about some TV show Derek had never even heard of, Derek struggled to hold his feet still long enough to untie and remove his shoes. (And yes, Derek was hyperaware of the staggering domesticity of the situation.)
“We need to go over whether or not to take Miss B up on their offer,” Derek said, then sighed as he looked up into Stiles’ sleepy eyes. “But… it can wait until the morning. You need to take a shower. I’ll get you something to wear.” He said before standing and going to his dresser.
Stiles groaned in misery at the prospect of having to stay awake long enough to shower. “Do I have to?” he whined.
Derek huffed a laugh and pulled out an old, worn-to-perfection t-shirt and a pair of boxers for him. “Yeah, you really, really do.”
“Why?” Stiles complained as Derek hoisted him up out of the chair and led him to the bathroom.
Derek answered matter-of-factly, “Because right now? You smell like at least 250 drunken, sweaty, horny strangers, more bodily fluids than I even want to consider, not to mention cigarettes, weed, and just a hint of vomit from that guy who was puking outside the club as we were leaving. I would literally have to dissolve my mattress in acid if you touched it.”
Stiles’ lip had been curling progressively harder as Derek spoke, waiting until he was finished to say, “Thanks for that, Der. You really know how to paint a picture with words.”
“You’re painting a picture with scents for me right now. Seems only fair to return the favor,” Derek said with a smirk.
“Alright. Geez. I get it. I’m going,” Stiles huffed before turning and heading into the bathroom. “You know, you certainly have a flair for the dramatic after 3:00 AM,” he teased before closing the door.
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“Oh my God, you have the best ideas. This was literally the best idea ever,” Stiles proclaimed once he was clean, dressed in Derek’s clothes, and climbing into his bed. He flopped down face first just like the first time he’d been there and, once again, groaned blissfully into the pillows.
Giving himself a forceful mental shake, Derek said, “I’m going to grab a quick shower. Call for me if you need anything, okay? I’ll keep an ear out.”
Stiles hummed appreciatively, knowing that Derek meant he would hear if he had a panic attack.
“Thanks, man,” Stiles mumbled, sounding borderline delirious and half asleep already. “Not sure what I did… to deserve you being so nice to me, but… I’m gonna take it… I am… ‘m greedy like that. It’s like… the only good thing… in my life... ‘s a really good thing… like… highlight… bright spot… E’rything else… is just… it all just hurts… y’know? But ‘s like… you comin’ outta left field… being like… super supportive wolf is… the one thing I’ve got going for me… So… thank you… means a lot. It means… means everything, man… ‘s… th’ one… th’ one… good… thing… ‘s really good…” he sighed as he drifted off to sleep.
Derek stood in his doorway staring at Stiles for several minutes, waiting for his heart to stop clenching and trying to work out the mess of emotions swirling around inside his head. Taking a steadying breath, he turned and headed to the bathroom, determined to get clean and into bed as quickly as possible.
And if, before he fell asleep a short while later, he held Stiles close and whispered into his ear, ‘You’re my one good thing, too,’ well… that was nobody else’s business.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
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