Just Say Yes
Title: Just Say Yes (Part 3)
Rating: Future Nc-17
Fandom/Pairing: Derek/Stiles Other/Stiles (In the start of this chapter as well as later to come in order to develop plot)
Warnings:Non-consensual actions. Please see note after summary for further details.
Note: Written for this kink meme prompt
Summary: Stiles wanted nothing to do with Derek Hale. His life was already a mess, and the last thing he needed was his ex-boyfriend back. But when he showed up bruised, beaten, and completely detached from this world on Stiles' doorstep-what else was he supposed to do? Answer: it probably shouldn't have been dragging him into his flat and trying to put him back together, and definitely not hoping Derek to return the favor.
NOTES ON THIS CHAPTER: While I do think all non-con is serious and I am not a fan of it, there is a brief instance in this chapter. It is not as serious as a lot of non-con fics go and I'm probably making this into a larger deal than necessary, but I would like to inform readers that there is a reason behind what happens and it is explained later in the chapter, so please do not let that scene 'put you off'. This is only for plot development and will not be a reoccurring thing in this fic
Also towards the end of the chapter, Stiles reflects on an article he read. This is an actual article from when I was researching Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for this story. I don't have the link on me, but I'm sure that if you are interested I can search through my browser history.
Part 1 / Part 2
If Stiles’ life were a romantic comedy things would have been different. There would have been this awkward flirtation between him and Derek. They would have become more aware of each other, there would be very unsubtle-y checking out of the others bodies, and several other ‘passionate’ moments.
However, Stiles life was not a romantic comedy. Even if it was, it would be on a level of so fucked up that people would probably leave the theater.
Stiles thought, that the kiss proved something to the both of them. Derek had not made any advances since, and Stiles figured it was his way of saying that he had no intentions of furthering their relationship. Not like Stiles would allow that.
Of course, they didn’t really see each other a lot. Stiles worked all night, and when he got home they both wanted to sleep. Stiles wasn’t sure what Derek did when he wasn’t there, and he should probably be mildly concerned. When they did have spare moments together, they ate, watched television, normal people things.
It wasn’t romantic in any manner, there was always a good space between them, and Stiles always did all the talking. The only good thing about Derek living here was that Stiles had adjusted back to normal eating habits. Of course, his sleeping patterns had been mildly disturbed, but he also figured out that his neighbors became suddenly quiet in the afternoon.
Huh, he wondered if that had anything to do with Derek.
So overall, nothing had changed, Derek was still an emotional nub, and refused to speak about what had happened no matter how much Stiles pried. He also sometimes still spaced out on his couch, with that vacant stare of his, and Stiles would have to nudge him or throw popcorn in his face.
Nothing really had changed.
That was a lie.
Sure, Derek made no intention to go any farther than a kiss, but those kisses did not stop. Every time Stiles fell asleep in Derek’s arms, and Derek would wake up panicked, he would kiss him.
They would never turn anymore tender or sweet. They were always those rough kisses, with his teeth chewing on his lips, and Derek the only one participating, attacking Stiles face. His mouth never wandered elsewhere, except sometimes it would stop roughly abusing Stiles’ lips and he would just suck the air out of Stiles’ mouth and exchange it with his own in sighs.
Maybe it could have gone farther, if Stiles allowed it. But after each time he would get up and leave the room. It wouldn’t take much effort for Stiles to just say it. He could just say easily, just look Derek in the eye, and tell him that it had to stop, because Stiles was seeing someone else.
But he didn’t.
This was Derek Hale, the man who had changed Stiles ideal of love and relationships for good. But when he looked so frightened, startled, and broken; even Stiles wasn’t that heartless.
Every night it became a pattern; Stiles would push him away and go back to his own bed, with a migraine. Stiles had to choose between; well it wasn’t necessarily lying, but not telling the truth to Derek, and hindering him from getting better.
The day that he actually had to make the choice was not a good one.
_
They were watching a movie, and maybe in actuality it was the movie that started everything. It was one of those dumb ones that he had rented just to see how long Derek would go without making him turn it off because it was so completely stupid. His reaction was not exactly that.
There was this one scene, the main character and his kick ass best friend get involved in a fight with two other guys. Things got ridiculously serious, the knife that one guy used looked like rubber, and the blood one of them spurted was the equivalent of ketchup.
It wasn’t going to be a big deal, and Stiles already knew that the character would recover within thirty seconds, because it was that kind of movie.
But all of a sudden Derek went still. Now Derek was already generally as a person, pretty still. Stiles figured he had obtained this skill by mastering creepy. Derek hardly made normal breathing noises, and even when he adjusted positions it was with the least possible sound.
Stiles was only able to notice that something was wrong with Derek, because he had been around him for so long. The change in atmosphere was something entirely different. Derek asserted this constant dominant presence, this overwhelming sense that everyone’s ideas and beings were incomparable compared to him. It radiated off his body, like a pheromone or something.
Suddenly that was gone.
Stiles looked over at him and saw Derek frozen. Not a muscle in his body was moving, everything was tense and tight, and he was staring at the screen with the look he got when he woke up from the dreams. He was gone-in his own world re-living whatever had happened before.
Stiles wanted to know, wanted to be a part of it, he was never a patient kid, and he didn’t like to wait for Derek to open up. He used to say that he ignored problems until they went away. But could he even do that here? Neither of them liked talking about anything, that’s how their non-existent relationship fell apart.
He moved over, and patted Derek’s arm. “Hey uh you okay? I know this movie is shit, but I mean, it’s not that bad.”
It was like some sort of horror movie. Derek spun towards him, and his face was completely wolfed out. His eyes were a vibrant red, and teeth pulled back in a snarl. Stiles launched to the other side of the couch.
Stiles waited for his heart to return to normal people speed, and calm down from the scariest fucking thing he had seen in awhile before speaking again. Well not scary really, he was used to the wolf by now, but shocking more like it.
“Woah, calm down wolfy. We can talk about it?” Stiles was really trying his best not to sound like a therapist. “I’ve heard that helps. I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it doe-“
Talking was obviously not what Derek had in mind.
Derek leaped on top of him. Stiles head hit the raised edge of the side of the sofa, and for once he was glad it was made of cheap suspicious felt like material and not leather, because he was not up for getting a burn on the back of his neck.
He didn’t kiss him like before. He didn’t even go near his mouth. Instead his teeth latched onto Stiles neck. They didn’t break skin, but instead stretched the flesh around his jugular out so he could suck on it and rake the points of his teeth up and down across it.
His hands were all over, while Stiles’ just laid at his side in shock of what was happening. Derek’s fingers worked under Stiles’ shirt. They flung the material up and he began to press his thumbs into that sensitive dip of Stiles’ hips into his abdomen. Then he’d angle his fingernails upwards and dig them into it.
Oh, hell no.
“Derek, wait, this isn’t okay, this is significantly less than okay.” Derek didn’t stop, and most people, would be more panicked in this situation than Stiles. But he wasn’t, not that much at least, which he wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing.
“I know something’s up, but this isn’t the way to deal with it, you can’t just do this.”
Derek’s hands worked their way up to grab Stiles’ wrists. He was struggling now, shifting his hips, and flailing his arms in whatever ever allowance he had under Derek’s grip. He would’ve raised his knee to kick him in the balls, but it was immobilized by Derek’s own leg. Even though they were close to the same height, Derek’s general body mass and strength was so greater than Stiles-it was incomparable.
“Seriously! I’m not fucking around! Stop and listen for a second will you! I wasn’t going to force you to talk about this, but clearly there is some emotional thing going on and I know that sucks, and I’m trying to help, but you can’t do this, we need to speak actual words. Like adults! This isn’t the way to deal with this!” His voice was turning shrill, especially when Derek’s one hand left his wrist and started to unbutton Stiles’ jeans.
“I didn’t let you stay here so we could fuck, I’m not some horny teenager anymore and neither are you, and this is wrong. There are better ways to deal with this.”
He knocked Derek across the top of his head with his elbow, and it was either that or his words that provided a wake-up call. Derek did back off. His features morphed back to human, and he moved off of him just enough for Stiles to pull his legs out from underneath him and with a chaos of limbs brought them to his chest.
They both moved to their respected ends of the couch facing each other and then there was silence.
As always, Stiles was the first to break it, “Christ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, and that whole wolf-intimidation-sex thing won’t work anymore, not like it used to.”
His words were getting faster and faster, and he was losing his very ability to control what he was saying. “I’m not a kid, and I’m not afraid of you, so if you want to stay here-if you want me to help you, you better get your ass in check because I’m the one harboring it.”
There was confidence burning through his veins, the kind he always got when he stood up to Derek. Strange confidence and pride mixed with fear. “And, and I’m seeing someone.”
Derek sneered, a look that was one of both utter disgust and surprise, and definitely disdainful. Then one eyebrow raised, and to Stiles’ absolute disbelief he ignored most of what Stiles just said, “You’re seeing someone? You.”
There was something else in his tone, always that vague taunt when Stiles stood against him, and the quips that always came afterwards.
It made Stiles absolutely furious. He wasn’t awed by Derek’s arrogance, or his abilities. Long ago, around eight years ago, he was aware that he was a jack ass who had changed Stiles into a different person, maybe a person he didn’t want to be.
“Yeah, I am.” Derek wouldn’t pry right? He couldn’t pry, because Stiles’ didn’t want to offer any more information, he didn’t want Derek to know any more. Because who knows what he would do.
While as much of a bastard Derek was, he was also fiercely protective, and that was one of the reason Stiles was originally attracted to him. Stiles knew that no matter the state of their relationship, Derek would kill anyone who tried to hurt him.
So basically Derek knowing anything about his love life would be a disaster.
“Really? Who is she, or he should I say?” There was that smirk. That smirk that reminded him of the old Derek, and to Stiles horror he felt a little relieved that the he was back for a moment. That mean playful Derek, who in the past Stiles fell in lov-lust with.
“You slept with him yet? Finally gotten to compare werewolf to human?” His expression was feral.
A flush spread from spread from Stiles neck to cheeks, “Shut up. You’re being an asshole.”
Despite the serious conversation Stiles had just given him on personal boundaries, Derek kind of violated them. Sure he didn’t move any closer, but his voice dropped into that voice, that pitch you used when you were whispering into someone’s ear. “Which one was better?”
Stiles had enough. He jumped off the couch and turned his back to Derek. He frisked through the fridge and popped open a soda once found. He answered Derek after a long gulp, “You know it’s not something that I really talk about with people, plus there are some significant difference-and no, we are totally off subject from what we should be talking about.” It was surprising how dramatically this had shifted from before.
If there was one thing about Derek Hale, is that if he was stuck on a subject he would never let it go until he received an answer that suited him. Just examples of werewolf business in the past had been enough, constantly hounding Scott about joining his pack or training or both.
He was persistent, not as much as Stiles, but still. Sometimes, he didn’t even need to say anything. He just had this way of looking. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and his mouth quirked to the side. It was obnoxious how effective it was.
“Look it, I don’t know, we weren’t even like a serious thing. What does it matter? There had to be someone in your pack who you did the same thing as me.” There was that word vomit. Something that Stiles could not control when his filter just disintegrated. Over the years he had thankfully gotten better at cutting himself off in the middle of it.
Derek still picked up on the meaning. His face contorted, nose wrinkled, mouth turned downward in deep frown, and eyes returned to that wide eyed vacant stare. He grabbed his leather jacket off of the counter, and sent one glare at Stiles, before he ran out.
“I have no one.” The way he said it was a little cheesy and over dramatic, something that would be said in a movie when introducing the angst filled new character. It was strange to even hear, and in any other situation it would have made Stiles a little baffled at the lame-ness.
But there was no better way to say the situation, because now that Stiles thought about it, Derek was now absolutely totally alone. He had no one left.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Stiles shouldn’t go after him. What had just occurred was above the Jackson level on the douche bag scale, a number higher than anyone had gone. After what he did, Derek deserved some time alone. Right?
There was one very graphic article he read. It was written in the perspective of a wife whose husband was experiencing traumatic nightmare. She wrote, that some nights when he woke up screaming he asked her to hold him and help him forget.
Stiles hand rubbed the sore spot on his neck, and the other on the thumb prints on his stomach as he thought about how maybe Derek Hale and the husband from the article weren’t so different.
Stiles knew what someone looked like when they wanted to hurt you. He knew what it was like to have someone raise their fist with a grin and pleasure in their eyes. That wasn’t Derek. Stiles in no way believed that Derek would have hurt him, because no matter what people said, no matter how bad of a guy he actually was, no matter how much he threatened, he wouldn’t hurt Stiles.
That just wasn’t…It wasn’t how Stiles remembered.
Maybe, maybe, Derek just wanted to forget too. He just couldn’t ask for it, because this was Derek. Weakness wasn’t his thing, vulnerability was a foreign concept. Asking for help, especially, was a theory that did not exist in his mind. It still wasn’t okay, there were unstated rules broken, things that still need to be said, but he thought that maybe Derek wanted to forget.
He just didn’t know how to.
Stiles downed the rest of his soda and grabbed the keys to his jeep.
Part 4
Rating: Future Nc-17
Fandom/Pairing: Derek/Stiles Other/Stiles (In the start of this chapter as well as later to come in order to develop plot)
Warnings:Non-consensual actions. Please see note after summary for further details.
Note: Written for this kink meme prompt
Summary: Stiles wanted nothing to do with Derek Hale. His life was already a mess, and the last thing he needed was his ex-boyfriend back. But when he showed up bruised, beaten, and completely detached from this world on Stiles' doorstep-what else was he supposed to do? Answer: it probably shouldn't have been dragging him into his flat and trying to put him back together, and definitely not hoping Derek to return the favor.
NOTES ON THIS CHAPTER: While I do think all non-con is serious and I am not a fan of it, there is a brief instance in this chapter. It is not as serious as a lot of non-con fics go and I'm probably making this into a larger deal than necessary, but I would like to inform readers that there is a reason behind what happens and it is explained later in the chapter, so please do not let that scene 'put you off'. This is only for plot development and will not be a reoccurring thing in this fic
Also towards the end of the chapter, Stiles reflects on an article he read. This is an actual article from when I was researching Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for this story. I don't have the link on me, but I'm sure that if you are interested I can search through my browser history.
Part 1 / Part 2
If Stiles’ life were a romantic comedy things would have been different. There would have been this awkward flirtation between him and Derek. They would have become more aware of each other, there would be very unsubtle-y checking out of the others bodies, and several other ‘passionate’ moments.
However, Stiles life was not a romantic comedy. Even if it was, it would be on a level of so fucked up that people would probably leave the theater.
Stiles thought, that the kiss proved something to the both of them. Derek had not made any advances since, and Stiles figured it was his way of saying that he had no intentions of furthering their relationship. Not like Stiles would allow that.
Of course, they didn’t really see each other a lot. Stiles worked all night, and when he got home they both wanted to sleep. Stiles wasn’t sure what Derek did when he wasn’t there, and he should probably be mildly concerned. When they did have spare moments together, they ate, watched television, normal people things.
It wasn’t romantic in any manner, there was always a good space between them, and Stiles always did all the talking. The only good thing about Derek living here was that Stiles had adjusted back to normal eating habits. Of course, his sleeping patterns had been mildly disturbed, but he also figured out that his neighbors became suddenly quiet in the afternoon.
Huh, he wondered if that had anything to do with Derek.
So overall, nothing had changed, Derek was still an emotional nub, and refused to speak about what had happened no matter how much Stiles pried. He also sometimes still spaced out on his couch, with that vacant stare of his, and Stiles would have to nudge him or throw popcorn in his face.
Nothing really had changed.
That was a lie.
Sure, Derek made no intention to go any farther than a kiss, but those kisses did not stop. Every time Stiles fell asleep in Derek’s arms, and Derek would wake up panicked, he would kiss him.
They would never turn anymore tender or sweet. They were always those rough kisses, with his teeth chewing on his lips, and Derek the only one participating, attacking Stiles face. His mouth never wandered elsewhere, except sometimes it would stop roughly abusing Stiles’ lips and he would just suck the air out of Stiles’ mouth and exchange it with his own in sighs.
Maybe it could have gone farther, if Stiles allowed it. But after each time he would get up and leave the room. It wouldn’t take much effort for Stiles to just say it. He could just say easily, just look Derek in the eye, and tell him that it had to stop, because Stiles was seeing someone else.
But he didn’t.
This was Derek Hale, the man who had changed Stiles ideal of love and relationships for good. But when he looked so frightened, startled, and broken; even Stiles wasn’t that heartless.
Every night it became a pattern; Stiles would push him away and go back to his own bed, with a migraine. Stiles had to choose between; well it wasn’t necessarily lying, but not telling the truth to Derek, and hindering him from getting better.
The day that he actually had to make the choice was not a good one.
_
They were watching a movie, and maybe in actuality it was the movie that started everything. It was one of those dumb ones that he had rented just to see how long Derek would go without making him turn it off because it was so completely stupid. His reaction was not exactly that.
There was this one scene, the main character and his kick ass best friend get involved in a fight with two other guys. Things got ridiculously serious, the knife that one guy used looked like rubber, and the blood one of them spurted was the equivalent of ketchup.
It wasn’t going to be a big deal, and Stiles already knew that the character would recover within thirty seconds, because it was that kind of movie.
But all of a sudden Derek went still. Now Derek was already generally as a person, pretty still. Stiles figured he had obtained this skill by mastering creepy. Derek hardly made normal breathing noises, and even when he adjusted positions it was with the least possible sound.
Stiles was only able to notice that something was wrong with Derek, because he had been around him for so long. The change in atmosphere was something entirely different. Derek asserted this constant dominant presence, this overwhelming sense that everyone’s ideas and beings were incomparable compared to him. It radiated off his body, like a pheromone or something.
Suddenly that was gone.
Stiles looked over at him and saw Derek frozen. Not a muscle in his body was moving, everything was tense and tight, and he was staring at the screen with the look he got when he woke up from the dreams. He was gone-in his own world re-living whatever had happened before.
Stiles wanted to know, wanted to be a part of it, he was never a patient kid, and he didn’t like to wait for Derek to open up. He used to say that he ignored problems until they went away. But could he even do that here? Neither of them liked talking about anything, that’s how their non-existent relationship fell apart.
He moved over, and patted Derek’s arm. “Hey uh you okay? I know this movie is shit, but I mean, it’s not that bad.”
It was like some sort of horror movie. Derek spun towards him, and his face was completely wolfed out. His eyes were a vibrant red, and teeth pulled back in a snarl. Stiles launched to the other side of the couch.
Stiles waited for his heart to return to normal people speed, and calm down from the scariest fucking thing he had seen in awhile before speaking again. Well not scary really, he was used to the wolf by now, but shocking more like it.
“Woah, calm down wolfy. We can talk about it?” Stiles was really trying his best not to sound like a therapist. “I’ve heard that helps. I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it doe-“
Talking was obviously not what Derek had in mind.
Derek leaped on top of him. Stiles head hit the raised edge of the side of the sofa, and for once he was glad it was made of cheap suspicious felt like material and not leather, because he was not up for getting a burn on the back of his neck.
He didn’t kiss him like before. He didn’t even go near his mouth. Instead his teeth latched onto Stiles neck. They didn’t break skin, but instead stretched the flesh around his jugular out so he could suck on it and rake the points of his teeth up and down across it.
His hands were all over, while Stiles’ just laid at his side in shock of what was happening. Derek’s fingers worked under Stiles’ shirt. They flung the material up and he began to press his thumbs into that sensitive dip of Stiles’ hips into his abdomen. Then he’d angle his fingernails upwards and dig them into it.
Oh, hell no.
“Derek, wait, this isn’t okay, this is significantly less than okay.” Derek didn’t stop, and most people, would be more panicked in this situation than Stiles. But he wasn’t, not that much at least, which he wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing.
“I know something’s up, but this isn’t the way to deal with it, you can’t just do this.”
Derek’s hands worked their way up to grab Stiles’ wrists. He was struggling now, shifting his hips, and flailing his arms in whatever ever allowance he had under Derek’s grip. He would’ve raised his knee to kick him in the balls, but it was immobilized by Derek’s own leg. Even though they were close to the same height, Derek’s general body mass and strength was so greater than Stiles-it was incomparable.
“Seriously! I’m not fucking around! Stop and listen for a second will you! I wasn’t going to force you to talk about this, but clearly there is some emotional thing going on and I know that sucks, and I’m trying to help, but you can’t do this, we need to speak actual words. Like adults! This isn’t the way to deal with this!” His voice was turning shrill, especially when Derek’s one hand left his wrist and started to unbutton Stiles’ jeans.
“I didn’t let you stay here so we could fuck, I’m not some horny teenager anymore and neither are you, and this is wrong. There are better ways to deal with this.”
He knocked Derek across the top of his head with his elbow, and it was either that or his words that provided a wake-up call. Derek did back off. His features morphed back to human, and he moved off of him just enough for Stiles to pull his legs out from underneath him and with a chaos of limbs brought them to his chest.
They both moved to their respected ends of the couch facing each other and then there was silence.
As always, Stiles was the first to break it, “Christ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, and that whole wolf-intimidation-sex thing won’t work anymore, not like it used to.”
His words were getting faster and faster, and he was losing his very ability to control what he was saying. “I’m not a kid, and I’m not afraid of you, so if you want to stay here-if you want me to help you, you better get your ass in check because I’m the one harboring it.”
There was confidence burning through his veins, the kind he always got when he stood up to Derek. Strange confidence and pride mixed with fear. “And, and I’m seeing someone.”
Derek sneered, a look that was one of both utter disgust and surprise, and definitely disdainful. Then one eyebrow raised, and to Stiles’ absolute disbelief he ignored most of what Stiles just said, “You’re seeing someone? You.”
There was something else in his tone, always that vague taunt when Stiles stood against him, and the quips that always came afterwards.
It made Stiles absolutely furious. He wasn’t awed by Derek’s arrogance, or his abilities. Long ago, around eight years ago, he was aware that he was a jack ass who had changed Stiles into a different person, maybe a person he didn’t want to be.
“Yeah, I am.” Derek wouldn’t pry right? He couldn’t pry, because Stiles’ didn’t want to offer any more information, he didn’t want Derek to know any more. Because who knows what he would do.
While as much of a bastard Derek was, he was also fiercely protective, and that was one of the reason Stiles was originally attracted to him. Stiles knew that no matter the state of their relationship, Derek would kill anyone who tried to hurt him.
So basically Derek knowing anything about his love life would be a disaster.
“Really? Who is she, or he should I say?” There was that smirk. That smirk that reminded him of the old Derek, and to Stiles horror he felt a little relieved that the he was back for a moment. That mean playful Derek, who in the past Stiles fell in lov-lust with.
“You slept with him yet? Finally gotten to compare werewolf to human?” His expression was feral.
A flush spread from spread from Stiles neck to cheeks, “Shut up. You’re being an asshole.”
Despite the serious conversation Stiles had just given him on personal boundaries, Derek kind of violated them. Sure he didn’t move any closer, but his voice dropped into that voice, that pitch you used when you were whispering into someone’s ear. “Which one was better?”
Stiles had enough. He jumped off the couch and turned his back to Derek. He frisked through the fridge and popped open a soda once found. He answered Derek after a long gulp, “You know it’s not something that I really talk about with people, plus there are some significant difference-and no, we are totally off subject from what we should be talking about.” It was surprising how dramatically this had shifted from before.
If there was one thing about Derek Hale, is that if he was stuck on a subject he would never let it go until he received an answer that suited him. Just examples of werewolf business in the past had been enough, constantly hounding Scott about joining his pack or training or both.
He was persistent, not as much as Stiles, but still. Sometimes, he didn’t even need to say anything. He just had this way of looking. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and his mouth quirked to the side. It was obnoxious how effective it was.
“Look it, I don’t know, we weren’t even like a serious thing. What does it matter? There had to be someone in your pack who you did the same thing as me.” There was that word vomit. Something that Stiles could not control when his filter just disintegrated. Over the years he had thankfully gotten better at cutting himself off in the middle of it.
Derek still picked up on the meaning. His face contorted, nose wrinkled, mouth turned downward in deep frown, and eyes returned to that wide eyed vacant stare. He grabbed his leather jacket off of the counter, and sent one glare at Stiles, before he ran out.
“I have no one.” The way he said it was a little cheesy and over dramatic, something that would be said in a movie when introducing the angst filled new character. It was strange to even hear, and in any other situation it would have made Stiles a little baffled at the lame-ness.
But there was no better way to say the situation, because now that Stiles thought about it, Derek was now absolutely totally alone. He had no one left.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Stiles shouldn’t go after him. What had just occurred was above the Jackson level on the douche bag scale, a number higher than anyone had gone. After what he did, Derek deserved some time alone. Right?
There was one very graphic article he read. It was written in the perspective of a wife whose husband was experiencing traumatic nightmare. She wrote, that some nights when he woke up screaming he asked her to hold him and help him forget.
Stiles hand rubbed the sore spot on his neck, and the other on the thumb prints on his stomach as he thought about how maybe Derek Hale and the husband from the article weren’t so different.
Stiles knew what someone looked like when they wanted to hurt you. He knew what it was like to have someone raise their fist with a grin and pleasure in their eyes. That wasn’t Derek. Stiles in no way believed that Derek would have hurt him, because no matter what people said, no matter how bad of a guy he actually was, no matter how much he threatened, he wouldn’t hurt Stiles.
That just wasn’t…It wasn’t how Stiles remembered.
Maybe, maybe, Derek just wanted to forget too. He just couldn’t ask for it, because this was Derek. Weakness wasn’t his thing, vulnerability was a foreign concept. Asking for help, especially, was a theory that did not exist in his mind. It still wasn’t okay, there were unstated rules broken, things that still need to be said, but he thought that maybe Derek wanted to forget.
He just didn’t know how to.
Stiles downed the rest of his soda and grabbed the keys to his jeep.
Part 4