Chapter Text
The following day found Stiles sitting, somewhat uncomfortably, in the conference room at the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department. This time, on a video call with his supervisor, while his dad sat impassively in the chair next to him.
After Derek had taken him to the hospital last night, the diagnosis had come back much as he’d suspected. Aside from bruises and scratches, he had two cracked ribs, a concussion, and a sprained ankle. That last one must’ve happened after Stewart had shoved him into the pit.
All in all, he’d made off lightly, considering. Cassie had stopped by, and he’d gotten another lecture that he, truthfully, deserved. Then she’d hugged him so hard he was sure that she’d actually cracked another rib.
From what he was able to learn, Alpha Yu and Fern Guiterrez had been caught with Aia Lee in the backseat of the car at one of the roadblocks. It was almost disappointing how easily they’d been caught but Stiles could only feel an immense sense of relief that they would not be allowed to hurt anyone else, and that Ms. Lee was, for the most part, going to be okay. All in all, counting Alpha Yu, well former Alpha Yu, Fern Guiterrez, and Cal Stewart, there were nine of them. All of them were members of the Auclair Pack although it seemed like the rest of the pack was almost entirely aware of their murderous extracurricular activities. Although, what would be the future of the Auclair pack was still a mystery. After everything that had happened, the other packs in the area had agreed to convene a council to decide what their next steps would be.
Boyd, Scott, Derek, Cassie, and a few other deputies from the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department and other departments in the county, were able to assist in apprehending the other six. It would still take some time to interrogate all of them and find justice for the missing and murdered women. In the end, their lives had been cut short for nothing more than greed and power. It made Stiles feel ill just thinking about it.
Apparently, they’d been trying to create something like a lodestone. Supercharging it with the magic and life force of the women. The stone they’d been using had been found in the basement of the old hunter’s cabin that Stiles had seen Alpha Yu at before. Currently, Deaton was trying to find a way to diffuse and disperse all of the magical energy trapped inside it.
Although he wasn’t entirely clear on the details, Stiles was sure they’d been using some bastardization of the lunaría to “charge” the stone. Draining the women of their magic and life force and channeling it into the stone. He still wasn’t sure about the significance of the sigils, but that was a question for a different day.
As for Lian Villanueva, Stiles hadn’t seen her again since the previous night in the clearing, but he really didn’t think he would. According to Dr. Lougherty, the preliminary cause of death for Cal Stewart was that he had simply been scared to death. It seemed like Lian Villanueva had gotten her revenge after all.
As for him, well.
“Agent Stilinski,” His supervisor addressed him in a cool, severe tone. “I hope you understand how reckless and irresponsible your actions were. You disobeyed the direct chain of command, ignored protocol, and placed yourself in unimaginable danger.”
She took a deep breath, “That being said, you acted bravely in unthinkable circumstances. You showed what it truly means to represent this agency and for that, you deserve commendation.”
“However,” She forestalled any response from him, “I cannot condone the way that you went about resolving this case. For that reason, effective immediately, you are placed on administrative leave for the next six weeks. I will allow you to assist Agent Morales and the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department in the conclusion of this case as they may see fit but fieldwork is strictly forbidden. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good,” She continued. “At the end of the six weeks, you and I will have another conversation. At that time, I would like for you to have an answer to me. Your first option is that I will give you permission to remain where you are. If you choose to stay in California, you will be removed from the agency in your current capacity and will be considered as a contractor at will. You may choose to continue consulting on cases, but you will no longer be considered a federal agent. Your second option is to come back to Washington where you will continue acting in your current capacity. However, in light of this most recent case, you will be placed under supervision for the time being until I decide I am satisfied with your ability to not act recklessly. Do you understand?”
He nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent. Agent Stilinski, do you have any questions?”
“No, ma’am.” He responded, trying not to fidget in his chair under her stern gaze.
“Very well. Sheriff Stilinski,” She addressed his dad in a much less severe tone. Well, it wasn’t like he’d gone off and nearly gotten himself killed by serial killers. “I must apologize for the conduct of my agent while assisting your department. We will take full responsibility for any damages he may have caused.”
John smirked and shook his head. “That’s not needed, ma’am, although I appreciate the offer. I knew very well what I was getting into with this one.”
“Even so,” His supervisor said. “If there is anything you may need from us, please let me know. As for you, Agent Stilinski, I will be waiting for your answer. Please don’t do anything else that would make me question whether I should rescind my offers.”
With that, she hung up the call. Stiles swallowed. Well, it could’ve been worse.
John leaned forward, clicking out of the video app and shutting the laptop down. “I think after the press conference, you should probably go home.”
Stiles, for once, didn’t argue with him. While he’d like to help with the interviews and checking in with the Lees, last night had definitely taken its toll on him. The painkillers had done a lot to take the edge off, but they couldn’t completely stave off the ache in his ribs or the headache throbbing just behind his eyes. Not to mention he hadn’t slept at all last night considering that he’d had to be woken up every couple of hours due to the concussion. Even if he hadn’t needed that, Stiles doubted he would’ve been able to sleep well. A certain fear and paranoia still lingered that the case wasn’t over and that he would wake up and be back in that old fire tower.
He needed a day to get his head on straight. At this rate, he wouldn’t be helpful to anyone, and they had to make sure they did this right. If they screwed up, that meant that the women’s killers would walk free, and he couldn’t afford to let that happen.
“Yeah, okay, pops.” He agreed easily. “How long do I have before it starts?”
John checked his watch. “About fifteen minutes.”
“I’m going to get some air.” Stiles didn’t wait for him to give him the go-ahead as he levered himself out of his seat. Opening the door to the conference room, he slipped down the hallway and outside. He’d chosen to use the emergency exit at the back of the station, seeing as there were probably a shit ton of media camped out front in anticipation of the press conference.
It was chilly and he knew it was only going to get colder, but right now the icy air felt nice to breathe in, cleansing his lungs and his head. After about five minutes, he went back inside to find Cassie.
He found her in Vaughn’s office, cleaning up files, although Parrish and Vaughn were nowhere to be seen. That made sense, though, since they’d taken on most of the work of interviewing their suspects.
He knocked on the doorframe to get Cassie’s attention.
She smiled when she saw him. “Ready for this?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Stiles answered. Really, he wanted nothing more than to pass out somewhere, preferably a bed, but any quiet room would do at this point.
Cassie finished stacking the papers in her hands and laid them neatly on Vaughn’s desk. “It’ll be over before you know it.”
He nodded, wincing slightly as it made his head feel like it was going to explode. Cassie gave him a concerned look, but he waved her off. “I’m fine.”
She didn’t seem convinced but didn’t say anything further as they joined his dad back in the lobby of the sheriff’s department.
The flash of cameras immediately blinded him when they stepped outside the glass doors at the front of the station. The case had blown up overnight and it had made national headlines. Meaning, he really didn’t want to give his supervisor another reason to think that he didn’t know how to do his job.
He and Cassie followed his dad to the small podium that had been set up outside. Wordlessly, they stepped back, letting John take the mic as he gave the usual opening remarks. How appreciative they were to coordinate on arresting the suspects. How grateful they were that Aia Lee had been returned safely. How they would continue working to make sure that the case was closed properly.
Afterward, he and Cassie took the sheriff’s place. It was always a pain in the ass fielding the media’s questions. Most of them he couldn’t answer as it was an ongoing investigation, but he did his best to give them just enough to make them feel like he’d given them a real answer and not just bureaucratic bullshit.
It felt like they’d been talking for years, when his dad finally rescued them, saying that they would be releasing an official statement soon and that they would have to wait until then to get more answers. Stiles was glad that, after this, he would probably be able to pass this off to their press people and not actually have to talk to the media directly.
But he made sure to keep a polite smile fixed on his face, even as it felt like his head was splitting apart. Finally, back in the relative safety of the department, he let the smile drop, bringing his fingers to his temples and massaging them.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“You look worn out, son,” John said. “Why don’t I call Derek to come get you?”
He mumbled out some kind of answer, although he couldn’t really be sure what. And then gentle hands were helping him to sit down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs they kept for visitors in the lobby. Right now, though, it felt like heaven compared to standing up.
An unknown amount of time later, he was vaguely aware of the sound of people talking, voices barely distinguishable through the throbbing in his head. Based on the few bits of conversation he caught, it was about him although he couldn’t be bothered to really care in the moment.
Then, he was being guided to his feet, a sturdy arm wrapped around his shoulders as he was led out the back door of the department.
He must’ve passed out because when he came to, he was lying on soft sheets. The room was illuminated only by the dim light of a lamp on the night table. Glancing around, he took in the familiar sights and colors of Derek’s room. The man in question was nowhere to be seen.
Most of the headache had passed, but there was still a dull aching behind his eyes. Thankfully, the soft lighting didn’t exacerbate it. The sound of footsteps made him open his eyes and turn his head slightly to see Derek enter the room from the hallway. He knew the man had done it on purpose. If he wanted to, he could’ve made no sound at all. He must’ve sensed the change in Stiles’ breathing and heard him shift, signaling that he’d woken up.
Reaching behind him, Derek shut the door quietly. He balanced a cup in his other hand, crossing the room to set it on the bedside table, and then sank down onto the mattress. He pressed the back of his palm to Stiles’ forehead. “How are you feeling?”
Stiles gestured for the water cup, which Derek passed to him. He sat up, drank down several pulls gratefully, and then spoke. “Better. My head doesn’t feel like someone’s taking an axe to it now.”
Derek huffed out a laugh. He rested the tips of his fingers against Stiles’ temples and closed his eyes. Stiles saw the faint bulging in his veins as he absorbed the remnants of the pain of Stiles’ headache.
Stiles let him for a few moments and then moved back. “That’s enough. You don’t have to do that.”
Derek’s brows lifted, a frown pulling at his lips. Stiles scrubbed a thumb against where the expression pulled the skin of the other man’s cheek taut. “I’m okay. You did more than enough. And I’m guessing you took on more of the pain from my headache while I was sleeping, didn’t you?”
Derek didn’t even seem affronted by the accusation. He shrugged as if to say ‘what else did you expect me to do?’
Stiles leaned up to brush a soft kiss where his thumb had been only a second ago. “Thanks, big guy.”
He could feel the positive effects as he woke up more. His ribs hurt less, and he could think without the room feeling like it was spinning on its axis.
Derek buried a hand in Stiles’ hair, bringing his head to his shoulder. Stiles let him, knowing how much the other man needed the contact, to reassure himself after everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. They were quiet for a beat and then Derek asked. “How did it go with your supervisor?”
“I’m on leave for the next six weeks,” Stiles responded, the words slightly muffled in the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt. “But she didn’t take my badge permanently.”
“So, what happens next?”
Stiles contemplated the question. What did happen next? His supervisor had given him two options. He could stay in California. He could be with Derek. But it would mean giving up his dream that he’d worked on for so long. He’d still be a consultant, but it wouldn’t be the same as being a federal agent.
On the other hand, he could go back to D.C. Pretend like none of the last few weeks had happened. That Derek wasn’t his fated one. He could go back to his normal life. Somehow, that left him feeling a little hollow, a faint taste of ash on his tongue. It was as if something inside him balked at the idea of leaving Derek behind.
Like Pandora’s box, he supposed he couldn’t exactly put that particular secret back where it’d come from. Now that he was aware of it, he couldn’t possibly pretend like it didn’t exist. He knew no matter where he went after this, he’d be looking over his shoulder for a person who wouldn’t be there. Because he also knew, without doubt, that Derek would never leave Beacon Hills. It was his home.
Even so, Stiles was conflicted. Softly, he muttered. “I don’t know.”
He felt Derek tense if only because he was pressed so close to him. Otherwise, he was sure the faint tightening of his muscles would’ve gone completely unnoticed. His cheek rose as Derek inhaled, readying himself to say something but it was as if he thought better of it, his chest deflating as he bit back the words.
“Just say it,” Stiles said. He buried his fingers in Derek’s shirt. It wasn’t like the gesture was necessary. Even if the whole building was on fire, he was sure Derek wasn’t letting him out of his sight any time soon.
A silence descended, fraught with those unspoken words. Finally, Derek murmured softly. “Don’t make me say it, Stiles.”
Getting angry now, Stiles pushed back to glare up at the other man. He knew he was being petulant, but he couldn’t help himself. “Why not?”
A sadness cloaked Derek’s features, tightening the corners of his eyes and pressing his lips into a thin line. Carefully, with his other hand, Derek cupped Stiles’ cheek. “Please, let’s not fight, Stiles.”
But Stiles wasn’t going to be deterred. He brushed Derek’s hand away impatiently.
“Why not?” He asked again. “Why can’t you just say it, Derek? Don’t give me that bullshit.”
“Stiles.” Derek pleaded but Stiles wasn’t going to be swayed. He really didn’t need Derek and his martyr complex. If Derek really wanted him to stay, and Stiles was pretty sure he did, then he needed him to say that. He wasn’t entirely sure yet if it was going to tip his decision one way or the other, but it certainly mattered.
After another few fractious seconds, Derek seemed to realize that Stiles wasn’t going to budge. He sighed, a tinge of annoyance creeping into the exhalation.
“Fine, you want me to say it? I’ll say it.” Derek’s brows furrowed as he tossed an irritated look at him. “I don’t want you to go. I want to keep you here with me, even though I know it would kill you to give up your job. It felt like I was ripping out a part of myself when you left the first time. I lived all these years lying to myself that I was okay without you, but I wasn’t!”
He paused as if to center himself before continuing in a calmer tone. “I can’t help it that I’m this selfish, Stiles. Do you want me to say it again? I want you to stay. There. Are you happy now?”
Stiles knew that Derek’s past was why he thought that voicing his needs made him selfish, but it wasn’t any more selfish than what Stiles felt. Ever since Derek had told him he was his fated one, he’d been able to see all of his carefully built plans going up in flames. It hadn’t changed anything and yet, it had changed everything.
His supervisor had told him before to think it over. She’d asked him then what he intended to do about it. In reflection, she’d definitely known something he didn’t. Which wouldn’t be the first time that had happened, and it absolutely wouldn’t be the last. Even with the two options she’d given him, it was like she was seeing down into the parts of him even Stiles himself didn’t want to recognize. Because if he was being honest, truly, he knew he couldn’t leave Derek behind.
It hurt to think about giving up the dream he’d worked so hard to achieve, but it hurt even more contemplating a reality that didn’t have Derek in it. Werewolves weren’t meant to be separated from their mates. It was an incontrovertible law of the universe. Now what would be truly selfish would be boarding that plane and leaving Derek to suffer a lonely existence in his absence. He knew there was no way that Derek would ever move on from this, that he could move on from this.
Reaching up, Stiles laid his hands on Derek’s shoulders. “No, I’m not happy.”
He tightened his hold as Derek flinched away from the words.
“I’m not happy,” He continued, “Because you’re still out here trying to hang yourself up on a cross. I’m not pressuring you out of some sick sense of wanting you to suffer. I’m pressuring you because I’m your mate damn it. You think I actually want to leave you behind?”
Stiles forced Derek to meet and hold his gaze. “I don’t have all the answers, Derek. I don’t know what happens from here. I don’t know what the future – our – future holds, but we’re supposed to be in this together.”
Oh, how ironic those words were given Stiles’ particular brand of dumbassery from the day before, but he digressed.
“You’re right.” He continued. “I don’t want to give up my job but forcing you to leave here would be even crueler, don’t you think?”
“So, what’re you saying?” Derek asked, a careful optimism flitting across his features.
“Idiot,” Stiles admonished him, but the words didn’t hold any weight. “I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m saying. I’m staying here, with you, if that wasn’t clear.”
Derek scrutinized his face, looking for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. Warily, he cradled Stiles’ face again, broad palms warm and roughened with calluses as they cupped his cheeks. “You don’t need to think it over more? You have six weeks to think about it.”
“I don’t need six weeks,” Stiles told him. And, he realized, he didn’t. When he came back here, he had no intentions or desire to stay. He’d thought that the only life he could build for himself could be in a place far away from here. But now, things were different. “I’m staying, Derek.”
Hope bloomed effervescently, illuminating Derek’s eyes with a warmth Stiles had rarely seen. It was like the coming of spring after a long, cold winter. It brought a strange, possessive sort of glee for Stiles that only he would see this expression on Derek’s face. Only he could make him feel like this. Derek was a closed book to the rest of the world, but to Stiles, he was slowly but surely opening up, allowing him to read what was written on those hidden pages.
“If you’re sure.” Derek’s words still held a tense edge, even as the rest of his expression belied their uncertainty.
Stiles sighed, running his hands down Derek’s chest to bury themselves in its soft fabric once again. He used the grip to bring the other man closer, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Derek seemed to relax at the reassurance, carefully dropping one hand to the nape of Stiles’ neck as the other came to rest on Stiles’ thigh.
He brought him in close again with the slightest pressure on the back of Stiles’ head. Derek kissed him, lingering over plump flesh for a moment before he slowly deepened the kiss, encouraging Stiles to open for him.
Stiles was no pushover, though. He eagerly responded, shoving his tongue into Derek’s mouth, running it over his teeth. Derek growled, moving to push him down, and then hesitated. He broke away, panting. “We can’t.”
Still dizzy from the arousal surging through him, Stiles chased Derek’s lips. He pouted when Derek evaded him easily. “Why not?”
“You’re hurt,” Derek replied, sounding a little bereft at being denied the opportunity to reacquaint himself with Stiles’ body.
“Don’t care.”
“I care,” Derek insisted.
Stiles huffed. Opening his eyes, he arched a brow. “Listen to me. I almost died multiple times in the last twenty-four hours. I’m pretty sure whatever our conversation was over the last twenty minutes counts as a fight. When I say I don’t care, I don’t care. I just want you to touch me, preferably as quickly as possible.”
The other man seemed to be fighting an internal battle with himself, one that he was rapidly losing. Stiles waited him out, smirking when Derek said. “Fine. But –
He forestalled anything Stiles was going to say. “We’re doing this my way.”
“Fine. Whatever. Just touch me, Derek, please.”
Derek muttered something that sounded like ‘bossy’ as he got up to lock the door. Stiles chose to ignore that particular comment as he rapidly shucked off his clothes, delighted that Derek was following his example. When they were both naked, Derek carefully arranged the pillows on the bed, making Stiles lay on his side on top of them. He even found one to put under Stiles’ ankle.
Once he was satisfied, he asked. “Okay? Does anything hurt?”
“Just my dick, because you’re not touching me.”
He couldn’t see Derek because he was currently facing away from him, but he didn’t need to see him to know that Derek had just rolled his eyes at his statement.
He felt the bed dip as Derek settled in behind him. “You’re so impatient. Wish I could fuck the brattiness right out of you.”
Stiles had another retort ready on the tip of his tongue that quickly disappeared as Derek pressed a wet finger to his entrance.
“Yeah, I guess that’s what I need to do to get you to be quiet.” Derek sounded amused as he worked the finger inside Stiles while he wrapped his other hand around Stiles’ body. Stiles moaned as Derek began to gently move the finger in and out.
The pressure of that singular digit had him wanting to thrust back onto where it was rubbing and teasing at his walls. But, given their position, he couldn’t do anything but lay there and take what he was given. Another frisson of arousal shot through him as Derek pressed a second finger in beside the first.
Impatiently, Stiles wrapped a hand around his dick where it was already swollen and full, leaking clear fluid onto his stomach. He was so horny, and Derek was being way too careful about preparing him when he needed Derek inside him like now.
“Enough, Derek, please, just get in me.” Stiles didn’t care how whiny he sounded. He was going to come if Derek didn’t hurry it up. And he really wanted to come with Derek inside of him. Wanted his thick cock to be splitting him open, taking up space in his body. Wanted to feel the after echo of their fucking even days later but he probably wasn’t going to get that considering that Derek was being extremely careful to not jostle him as he pulled his fingers free and lined himself up.
“Yes,” Stiles’ mouth dropped into an open ‘o’ of pleasure as he felt the thick head of Derek’s cock spreading his rim wide. Groping behind him, Stiles tried to anchor himself by sinking his fingers into the thick weight of Derek’s thigh. Just the feeling of Derek pushing into him was robbing him of his sanity and mental acuity. His world narrowed into the fullness and the faint burning of the stretch in his muscles as Derek filled him.
He could hear, and feel, Derek’s panting breaths on his skin as the other man slipped a hand under his body and over his waist, holding Stiles in place as he began to move. It wasn’t anything more than a gentle rocking of his hips, and it wasn’t really what Stiles wanted but, much as he hated to admit it, Derek was right. They couldn’t really do anything too athletic given Stiles’ injuries, which wasn’t fair damn it. So, for now, this would have to be enough, but it was still so good.
Turning his head, he found Derek’s mouth. Their combined noises of pleasure being swallowed in the messy press of their lips as their bodies moved in sync. Stiles’ hand on his cock sped up, while the other sank crescent-shaped marks into the skin of Derek’s thigh. He wanted this to last but he knew he wouldn’t be able to.
It was so much. The sliding of Derek’s skin against his. The weight of his cock filling him. The feeling of connection between them, as if they were something more than just their bodies but two souls intertwining.
As if sensing how tenuous Stiles’ control was, Derek broke away. He nuzzled at Stiles’ neck, careful of the bruise there as he traced the rapid beating of his pulse with his tongue. “Come when you need to. It’s okay.”
Stiles whimpered at the words and at the added feeling of Derek’s teeth, sinking sharply into the tender flesh. As if wanting to leave his own mark there. He soothed the bite with tiny kitten licks, amplifying the shocks of pleasure in Stiles’ body from the original sensation.
Stiles’ hand kept pace with Derek’s slow steady thrusts. It was maddening in a way but even still, he couldn’t help from trying to push his hips back into the subtle thrusts as Derek buried himself in him over and over. He didn’t have enough leverage to really do anything but the mere suggestion of it was making the knot of arousal in his gut coil tighter. Ratcheting up higher as he focused on the thick heat of Derek’s shaft rubbing and stimulating his walls and pressing against the bundle of nerves that had his vision going white and staticky at the edges.
“Derek!” Stiles sobbed. “’m gonna – nnh! – I can’t – “
“It’s okay,” Derek repeated, reaching his other hand to pinch and pull at Stiles’ nipple. “Come. Want to feel you come on my cock.”
That seemed to be the last thing Stiles needed, his body going taught as a bowstring as his dick jerked and spilled over his hand. Rope after rope landing on his chest as his hole tightened rhythmically over the hard cock buried inside it.
“Fuck, Stiles!” Derek bit out as he, too, went rigid and reached his peak, still careful with the grip of his hands on Stiles’ body not to jostle him too much.
Stiles whimpered again as he felt the wet warmth flooding his insides, claiming him.
Afterward, they tangled together, neither wanting to move out of the circle of each other’s arms. Derek nosed at the damp hair at the base of Stiles’ neck, one hand rubbing soothing circles into Stiles’ chest while the other traced nonsensical patterns on his thigh.
Stiles covered the hand on his chest with his own, interlacing their fingers.
He didn’t know how long they laid there in content silence before the vibration of a phone broke through the moment.
“That’s mine,” Derek said, sounding annoyed. He reached back, picking it up from the nightstand before resettling. His chest was a warm weight against Stiles’ back as he put in his password.
He didn’t seem to care whether Stiles saw his messages as he dangled it over his shoulder. On the screen, Stiles could see a flurry of texts coming in.
“It’s the group chat,” Derek explained, sounding even more annoyed.
“What’s wrong with them?”
Derek opened up the chat log and laughed. Like, actually laughed. “Guess they should’ve knocked louder.”
Stiles didn’t know if he wanted to know but he could guess the implication of Derek’s words. He flushed at the thought that someone had heard them but then, like Derek, decided he actually didn’t care. Derek tossed the phone onto the bed and buried his face in the space between Stiles’ neck and shoulder.
Stiles knew that there was a lot more work to do. A lot of ends left untied but, for now, he felt content to stay right here. Tomorrow could take care of itself.