Chapter Text
“Where the hell have you been?” Scott asks. Melissa had let Stiles in and they’re in his bedroom. He scrunches his whole face up. “Whoa. You smell really…Derek-y.”
“Huh,” Stiles says, like he has no idea why that would be. He’s used to Scott telling him what he smells like so he can fairly easily pretend it’s nothing.
Scott quirks an eyebrow at him. “So?”
“Uhh,” Stiles says. “How about we talk about whatever’s going on with you first.”
Scott gives him a very serious what the fuck look. “Okay. Well. We have a problem. Isaac and I have been seeing weird things the past few days at school, and today—”
“Wait, what day is it?” Stiles interrupts. He’s suddenly not sure if he missed school.
“Saturday! You idiot! Let me finish!”
“Okay, okay, sorry!” Stiles says, palms out in a placating gesture. “What happened?”
Scott sighs. “We smelled something. And then out in the woods we saw something. We think there might be another…werewolf. At school. Not one of Derek’s. Which is why we were trying to find him, but he was also completely unreachable, and you seem to know why. We still need his help.” Scott plops down onto his bed, exasperated by the whole situation. He looks up at Stiles.
“Hmm,” Stiles says. “Yeah, I may have some intel on that ‘unreachable’ thing.” Scott quirks an eyebrow again. “I was…helping him with something. He came to me for help.” Scott’s face still looks confused but now also suspicious.
“You? Helping him,” Scott says.
“Correct.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
Stiles shrugs.
“This whole day…not answering your phones…you and Derek.” Stiles watches Scott’s face as his brain tries to figure this out. He seems like he has an idea that he doesn’t want to believe. “Helping. And unavailable.”
“Yup,” Stiles says.
“Okay,” Scott says slowly. “So now that you’re not…helping him…anymore, he can help us?”
“Should be good to go,” Stiles says.
“Shit, dude,” Scott says suddenly. “Are you guys boning or something? Because it kind of seems like you were boning. Since you aren’t telling me anything. And you smell—strongly—of Derek and—I don’t want to know. I actually don’t want to know, never mind!” He stands up and paces for a second.
“Nope,” Stiles says, smiling a little. “You probably don’t.” And I need time to figure it out, anyway, he thinks.
“Okay, okay,” Scott says, his voice strained. “We’ll deal with this tomorrow. The werewolf thing. Not the—whatever you were doing thing. Thanks, Stiles. Always a pleasure, buddy.”
Stiles can’t help but grin. “Love you too, Scotty. Night night.” Stiles makes his way out, prancing a little on the way to his Jeep. Despite the fact that he definitely does not want to talk about himself and Derek, he loves when he is able to lightly piss off Scott. It really brings him joy.
***
The next morning he wakes up to his dad sitting on the end of his bed. He yelps and thrashes around in the covers for a second.
“Son, I don’t know what is wrong with you,” his dad says fondly.
“Plenty of things?!” Stiles cries. “Possibly due to this!” He gestures wildly in the general direction of his dad, who has apparently been watching him sleep.
“Relax,” he says. “I just wanted to say bye before I left for work. Didn’t see much of you yesterday.”
Stiles sighs. “Yeah, I was with Scott,” he says, rubbing his face. He’s glad regular humans are not lie-detectors.
“Okay, well. Spaghetti for dinner?”
“Spaghetti Sunday, you got it, Sheriff.” He kicks his feet under the covers, hoping this will make his father get up. It works.
“Alright, nothing weird going on here,” his dad says, raising his eyebrows. “See you.” He goes out and closes the door behind himself.
Stiles sighs and flops back onto his pillows. He reaches for his phone and when he flicks it on he sees two texts from Scott. And one from Derek.
Derek’s helping us finally
he thinks it’s an omega
sup
Sup? Derek is just going to text him “sup”?! Stiles quickly types back “word” to Scott and pretends he did not see the one from Derek.
Okay, he can’t actually pretend he didn’t see it. He has to be a big boy about this now. Derek devirginized him yesterday and it weirdly…didn’t seem that weird. Other than the fact that they had never expressed any direct feelings for or attraction to one another before all of that. It’s very clear now that they are, indeed, mutually attracted to one another. Stiles had been cool with just finding Derek hot and not really doing anything about it but now that he knows…he gets why they have been doing the whole “I-screwed-up-help-me” thing with each other. Why he went to Derek’s after he busted his knee skating even though it was a really far and really painful walk. Why he didn’t question it when Derek came to him with a knife through his palm or a nail in his foot. They fucking like each other. They—like each other. He likes Derek. Derek likes him.
Derek was trying to make a magic charm to protect him. Derek’s stigmata holes healed after they watched each other jack off. It occurs to Stiles that the unguent possibly didn’t even work, and it was actually all due to them beginning to realize that they were into each other. Jesus.
He sighs again, his stomach twisting nervously. He chews on his thumbnail. He feels like he needs to respond to Derek’s text, but has no idea what to say.
about that talk… he types. Vague. Good. He hits send and squeezes his eyes shut, hoping Derek will be busy with Scott and Isaac and not respond for a while.
Somehow, he falls back asleep and has a dream about adopting seven dogs and not being able to take care of all of them properly. He wakes up with Derek looming over him.
“Fuckin'—ahh! Why are you all watching me sleep?” he yelps, flailing himself into a sitting position.
“Maybe not my place, but you haven’t always had the best luck with sleeping.”
Stiles squints at him. He’s kind of right. “Not exactly your place.”
“Also not why I’m here,” Derek says.
“No shit,” Stiles says.
“So,” Derek says. Stiles actually gets a look at him now and notices that he’s covered in mud and his shirt is torn.
“Did you find the omega?” he asks.
Derek makes a noncommittal noise. “We found something. A den.”
“A den. So, is this guy dangerous?”
“We don’t know.” Derek frowns. “Usually omegas aren’t, but they can bring other things that are.”
“Okay,” Stiles says. He figures they will all have to deal with this at some point.
They’re both quiet for a while, looking at each other, searching for some kind of clue in the other’s expression. Derek sits in Stiles’ desk chair. Stiles thinks he is going to have to say something. “I don’t think the unguent worked,” he says, at last. He sort of laughs.
Derek looks at him like he’s insane. He holds up his hands and flips them back and forth, showing the front and back.
“No, I mean.” Stiles huffs. He finally gets out of the covers, thanks himself for actually putting on boxers before he went to bed last night, and stands up to put actual clothes on. He needs a second. Derek watches him carefully as he gets dressed, and Stiles doesn’t care, except that he does feel sort of smug. He still can’t believe Derek finds him attractive.
“Well?” Derek asks.
“I think—you know how...when you healed, we had been kind of having a conversation?”
Derek looks up at the ceiling, remembering yesterday. He finally nods. “Yeah, I admitted to you…the thing.”
Stiles nods. “And I admitted a similar thing. And then you put the goo on your holes. And then after what felt like forever they healed.”
Derek snorts.
“Yeah, yeah, I said your holes,” Stiles grumbles, reigning in his own amusement.
“Why wouldn’t that have just been from the unguent?” Derek asks.
“Remember the spell book?” Stiles asks. “It said to seek peace with the person, along with using the unguent.”
Derek’s eyes widen. “It did,” he says. “Shit.”
“Not that I’d call that ‘peace,’” Stiles says, “but it was something.”
Derek nods slowly. “You might be right,” he says carefully.
“I’ve also considered the implications of using a love spell on someone you don’t love, or who doesn’t love you,” Stiles says. He’s feeling a little bolder, being able to talk about this in the framework of magical spells and whatnot. Derek’s eyes widen again. “Speaking generally, that doesn’t seem like something that would work.”
“That’s not—it didn’t work because I didn’t finish it,” Derek says, his voice low.
Stiles smirks. He can’t help it. “You didn’t finish? Knife in your hand got in the way of finishing?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Shut up,” Derek says, but he’s clearly trying not to smile.
“You’re saying that if you had finished—the spell, that is—it should have worked?”
Derek’s eyes shift around, like he knows Stiles is trying to catch him in something. He finally decides on answering, “Yes.”
“Meaning?” Stiles says. “You…should be able to successfully perform a love spell. Involving me.”
“Yes,” Derek says through gritted teeth. “I just said that.”
“So you love me.”
Derek closes his eyes and swallows. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Stiles fist pumps in the air. Then he realizes. Oh. What Derek just said. Stiles figured it all out but Derek actually said the thing. He takes in a big gulp of air. He has to say something back, now. He hadn’t actually thought about this part in his whole plan to get Derek to admit he liked—loved?!—him. But now he has to. Big boy pants…on.
“I…guess I have to. Respond.” Derek peeks one eye at him. Stiles bites down on his thumbnail. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I guess I like you too. I…like-like you. I can’t…this is very new to me.”
Derek smiles, then. “That’s okay,” he says.
Stiles realizes he has been holding his breath and lets it all out. “Whew,” he sighs. He lets himself smile back at Derek. “Did I do the talk?” he asks, scratching his ear.
Derek nods. He looks amused. “You did alright.”
Stiles feels…good, actually. He can tell Derek feels good after hearing all of Stiles’ teenage bullshit just now and that makes him feel good. Also, wow, Derek loves him. This should be a massive, earth-shaking situation but it seems, like. Fine. They can continue being them but maybe more affectionate and with more orgasms. Stiles has been around werewolves long enough to know that this is in actuality a big deal but he knows Derek and knows he isn’t going to push him to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He might literally push him around, like, into walls to make out with him or smell him or whatever, but he is generally super accepting of Stiles’ nonsense. And that feels right. Has always felt right. His heart feels sort of tight in his chest, like it’s gotten bigger and is pressing on his ribs.
“So,” Stiles says. “Does this mean…?”
Derek raises an eyebrow. “Like, are we werewolf-married or something? No.”
Stiles laughs. Derek made a joke. And it was funny! “That’s not what I meant.”
“Let’s see how it goes,” Derek says. And Stiles likes the sound of that.
“That sounds perfect,” he says.
They grin goofily at each other, excited but unsure how to proceed. This works, though. It all seems mutual and they seem to understand each other. Stiles shoves his hands into his pockets.
“It would actually be ‘mate-bonded,’ by the way,” Derek adds, not as nonchalantly as he probably meant. Stiles suppresses a smirk.
“Okay, not bonded, noted,” Stiles says. “Hey, do you have the duck you were carving? For me? I really want to see it.”
Derek shuffles his feet. “It’s really bad. I need more practice.”
“Please,” Stiles says. “I won’t laugh.” This is not convincing.
“You will, you dick,” Derek says, smiling.
“Yeah, I will,” Stiles sighs.
“It’s at home,” Derek says. “Maybe later.”
This is easy. It’s nice. All Stiles needs to complete this whole thing is maybe a kiss and also to touch Derek’s abs where they are visible through the giant rip in his t-shirt. He really needs that, actually. He wants to do it with his tongue. Derek gives him a look, like he can tell Stiles is thinking about something dirty. Oh, yeah—he probably can smell it on him. Stiles reaches out for Derek from his seat on the edge of the bed.
“Come here,” he says. “I need to…do something. Consummate.”
Derek smirks and steps toward him. When he is right up in front of him he leans over and then clasps Stiles’ face in both his hands. He presses in and kisses him deeply, tasting his tongue and teeth and breathing him in. They fall back onto the bed and slide up, Derek’s chest flush against Stiles. Stiles hums in his throat. He reaches his hands under Derek’s collar, over his broad shoulders and back, touching everywhere he can reach, trying and failing to keep his moans quiet. It’s just—having Derek up in his space like this is so much. Derek sucks hard on his bottom lip and pulls it back and the slight pain of it sends a jolt to Stiles’ dick. He lolls his head back as Derek noses his way across his jaw, into his neck, sucking hard in a few spots and licking over them. He breathes in and groans and, yeah, Stiles is really into being sniffed. He's hard already. Derek is now up by his ear, grazing his teeth over Stiles’ earlobe, and Stiles is wiggling, trying to somehow get Derek’s groin down on his. Derek’s on his knees, though, keeping their hips apart, which is very frustrating. Stiles decides to try to reach a hand to cup Derek’s dick over his pants and Derek gently takes his hand and holds it down on the mattress above Stiles’ head. Stiles whines.
“Fucking—why,” he pants.
Derek snorts into his neck and then bites softly. “Because,” he says.
“Not Mr. Talkative today, huh,” Stiles says, now trying with the other hand to touch Derek’s obvious bulge.
“Nope,” Derek says, also gently taking this hand away and holding it down on the mattress on the other side of Stiles’ head. Stiles isn’t sure if he’s saying nope to the hand or to the talkative thing. He guesses both.
“I wanna,” Stiles whines. Derek smirks into Stiles’ mouth.
“You wanna what?” he asks.
“Ughh,” Stiles groans. “You want me to talk? I don’t know how to words,” Stiles says, pausing while Derek sucks his earlobe into his mouth. “When you’re—fuck.”
“You can do it,” Derek encourages.
“Mm,” Stiles whines. This is a lot. He had never considered being ridiculously horny could cause him to lose the power of speech. It seemed, yesterday at least, to make Derek want to say a bunch of shit, which is, like, the opposite situation. “I want your cock. In my mouth,” he finally gets out, between gasps. Derek groans at that and presses Stiles’ hands down harder.
“More,” he grunts.
Okay, Derek really likes that, apparently. He lowers his hips to grind down on Stiles’ once, an awful tease. “You—” Stiles groans. He tries to regain his composure. He can’t let Derek win here. He’s gonna fuck him up worse than he’s fucking Stiles up. He can do it. “You like that, babe? Want me to keep talking to you?” He feels sexy, actually, knowing Derek is into this, hearing his own voice a little deeper, ragged with want. Derek nods with his cheek pressed to Stiles’. “I’m so hard for you,” Stiles murmurs. “Mm. I bet you want to feel it—feel my cock wet and sliding against yours, or fucking your mouth—” Derek growls and presses Stiles’ left hand even further into the mattress. He grinds down again, and Stiles wills himself not to come. Fuck. He can’t stop now, Derek is grinding his hard dick on him and through both their pants it still feels amazing. “You wanna—ah, Derek—I want to fuck you so bad—or you fuck me—or, shit,” Stiles stops because Derek is pressing down on him hard and coming in his pants and making a deep growly noise that Stiles really likes. He follows close behind, coming while Derek is still humping down on him, dragging his hips up over Stiles’ jerking cock.
They both lie there and pant for a while. Derek finally rolls off of Stiles and sighs. “Wow,” he breathes.
They’re apparently really horny for each other, what can ya do?
“I gotta go home,” Derek says after a minute. “And change.”
Stiles feels like he can’t move. “Do it,” he says.
Derek leans over and kisses him, sweetly this time. He gets up. “Help us with the omega thing later?”
Stiles nods. “Yeah, just have to be home at like 6 for spaghetti with my dad.”
Derek smirks. “See you, Stiles.”
“Bye, Derek.”
And just like that, Stiles and Derek are a thing.
***
A few hours later, Stiles and Derek meet Scott and Isaac in the Beacon Hills Preserve. When Scott sees them walk up together, he scrunches up his face again.
“So you are boning?” Scott asks, sounding disappointed.
Derek looks surprised. “Uh, yes,” Stiles says shiftily. “Get used to it?”
Isaac’s face breaks into a huge grin. “That’s awesome,” he says. He nudges Scott. “Can we tell them?”
Stiles’ mouth drops open. “No…” he says.
“Oh, no, not us,” Isaac says. “We had a threesome. That’s all. With Allison.”
Derek rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Do we have to do this here,” he says.
Stiles is laughing gleefully. “Dudes!” he says. He runs up to high five Scott and Isaac. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks Scott.
Scott shrugs. “To be honest, I thought you would tell me something gross about you and Derek in return. Not that…just. Now I’m picturing it and I would really rather not think about your dicks.”
“Or balls,” Isaac adds. Scott kicks him lightly.
“Okay, we have work to do,” Derek says authoritatively. “So shut up.” They all look at him expectantly. “We need to find the omega and get them out of our territory. Scott and Isaac, go check those traps we set earlier. If you find something, give me a signal. Stiles and I will go back to the den and see if we find anything there.”
Scott and Isaac nod and head off, partially-shifting so they can run faster.
“We’re going to the den?” Stiles asks. “Won’t that make it mad?”
“I guess we’ll see,” Derek says. They head off into the woods. It’s a decent hike, and Stiles is huffing and puffing a little by the time they reach the spot. Derek is fine, of course.
The omega’s den is just a sort of cave-like hole in the ground. Inside there is a blanket and a camping lantern and some fast-food garbage. It smells pretty bad, even to Stiles.
“How long do you think they’ve been here?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” Derek says. “But it reeks.”
“No kidding,” Stiles says, waving a hand in front of his face. “Wet dog and ass cra—”
He’s interrupted by a werewolf, presumably the omega, jumping out and tackling him from behind.
“Stiles!” Derek yells, already mid-shift. He jumps on top of the omega and wrestles him off and to the ground. Stiles scrambles to his feet so he can get out of the way. Derek has the guy pinned down, and he roars into his face. The omega shakes and thrashes and then morphs back into a person. He has long straggly hair and is covered in mud. Pretty much what Stiles expected of an omega, but younger, probably in his early 20s.
“Really, bro?” Stiles asks the omega. “Jump attack?” Derek’s still fully wolfed-out, eyes red, claws keeping the omega securely on his back. The guy is whimpering. Derek glares at him.
“What are you doing?” he growls. The guy just whimpers. Derek presses a claw into the flesh of the guy’s arm. He howls. “I said, what are you doing?” Derek repeats.
“Ow, ow, off,” the guy says. Stiles notices that Scott and Isaac have arrived, apparently having heard the commotion. Derek eyes the guy and releases him, giving Isaac a nod as he steps back. Isaac traps the guy’s wrists together and they stand up.
“This is our territory,” Derek says. His face is mostly back to normal, but his canines are still threateningly long.
“I got banished,” the guy says.
“Are we supposed to feel bad for you?” Derek asks.
The guy shrugs. “Need somewhere to go.”
Stiles messes with a rock he found. He’s a tiny bit sore from the guy tackling him and his chin burns where he scraped it on the ground. He doesn't exactly understand how this territory shit works.
“Well, find somewhere else,” Derek says harshly.
Scott looks back and forth between Derek and the omega. “Don’t come back,” he adds. “There are people here who will kill you.”
“Yeah, us,” Isaac says from behind him. The omega wriggles in Isaac’s grasp.
Derek huffs. “Let him go.” He gestures at Isaac. “We will kill you if we have to,” he adds. Scott looks like he doesn’t want to be included in that “we.”
Isaac lets the guy go and he grabs his blanket and runs off, lightning-fast.
“Shit,” Stiles says once the guy is completely out of sight. He rubs his chin absently.
“Are you okay?” Derek asks, looking at the scrape on Stiles’ chin.
“‘M fine,” Stiles says. He looks at Scott. “Tackled me pretty good.”
“I don’t want to kill him,” Scott says uneasily. “Just want that to be clear.”
“I know,” Derek says. “But he can’t be around here. It’s not safe.”
Scott shrugs. “I know.”
“Looks like we’re good here, then?” Isaac says. “I gotta go study.”
“Yeah, go ahead,” Derek says. “Stiles and I—”
“No thank you!” Scott calls, already heading away with Isaac.
“…are going to hike back, too.” Derek and Stiles grin at each other. They hike back to Derek’s house. It feels a lot shorter to Stiles, going this way.
When they get there, Derek opens the door. “Let’s clean up your chin,” he says. They go into the kitchen and Stiles is reminded of everything that went down in there yesterday. So much has happened. And will keep happening, he’s pretty sure of it.
Derek wipes the scrape off with a wet washcloth and puts some neosporin on it. He’s so careful with Stiles. Stiles can’t help but smile. Maybe they are gross, now that they're allowed to be cute.
“Duck?” he asks when Derek is done taking care of him. Derek swears quietly. He stomps away and comes back shortly with a wooden, uh, thing. “What the hell is this?” Stiles laughs. It looks like a flipper-less whale, maybe. With a skinny tail that looks more like a jagged candy cane. Stiles snorts. He can’t stop admiring it.
“I told you,” Derek groans.
“I love it,” Stiles says. “It’s terrible.” He really does love it. Derek made it for him. And it started this whole mess. Well, sort of. Part of it.
“Stop,” Derek says. He covers his eyes, embarrassed.
“Can I have it?” Stiles asks. Derek looks at him.
“Of course,” he sighs.
Stiles laughs, huge mouth wide open. “Thanks,” he says. He throws his arms around Derek in a hug. Derek relaxes into it, pressing his chest into Stiles’ and breathing in his scent.
“You’re welcome,” he says. “Maybe I should try again. To make one that actually works.”
Stiles pulls back. “Don’t,” he says. “Dangerous.”
Derek laughs. “You’d better get home,” he says. “It’s getting late.”
Stiles checks the time on his phone and sighs. “Yeah.”
“See you tomorrow?” Derek asks.
Stiles grins. “Yeah.” He reaches up the little bit he has to to peck Derek on the cheek. Derek grabs his face and turns it so he can smush their lips together.
“Mmph,” Stiles says. Derek pulls back. “Good, okay.”
Derek flicks him on the cheek. “Go,” he says softly. Stiles does.
~end~