Hit By a Planet
Author’s Notes: This ignores the end of Season 2 and kind of rewrites it a bit. Gerard was revealed to be a traitor and killed by a remorseful Allison. Chris almost killed Jackson, but was stopped by Stiles and Derek. Gerard=Bad, Chris and Allison=Misled, but good. Kay? And all this led to Derek, and then Stiles, finally figuring some things out.
Summary: Nothing with Stiles was easy or clean-cut and Derek has always been a bit oblivious himself. It takes time, and many small moments, for them to realize what’s been going on between them without their notice. Sterek get-together fic with some packness.
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Hit By a Planet
Derek knew. He’d never tell a soul, but he knew why he’d ended up with this kid in the end.
It hadn’t been anything like the stories his mother had read them when they were children and didn’t at all resemble what the girls whispered about in the hallways. There was nothing of a fairytale about this and he never saw it coming. It was less like a romantic comedy and more like being run down by a Mack truck.
Repeatedly.
It wasn’t even a pining, one-sided longing thing either because Stiles had been just as blind-sided. Derek took a bit of pride in the fact that Stiles was even a bit slower to catch on than he had been. He had to have something over the teen after all, just to save his pride.
Because Stiles was the most extraordinary of the ordinary.
There wasn’t one crystallized, perfect moment of realization or anything. Rather, one small thing after another. That’s why Derek hadn’t noticed what was happening, what he was feeling, enough to give it much thought or name until he was being practically slapped in the face with it.
Stiles was terrified of him when they met, he was the smart one after all. He was still afraid of him months later, but that didn’t stop him from standing toe to toe with Derek, staring him down from practically the same height, growling at him in defense of his friend. He stood up for Scott no matter how many times he got smacked down for it. Eventually, he’d begun doing the same for the rest of the pack, even standing up and arguing with Derek, for Derek.
‘Someone’s gotta protect you from you’, he’d say with a glare.
Derek loved how stupid the smartest person he’d ever met could be.
He loved the things he should have hated.
Like the silvery scars Stiles had across his back. They ran up from his hip, crossed his spine, to curl just a bit around the back of his neck, narrowing at the ends. For all Stiles’ total agreement and, sometimes provocation, that they had to kill Jackson and his genuine feeling that Jackson was and would always be the biggest douche on the planet; when it came down to it, Stiles still couldn’t just let him die.
Jackson would have probably left a few good wounds on Chris Argent, but the hunter’s modified gun, along with the machete at his hip, would have taken the out of control teen down in the process.
It was total confusion on both sides after Gerard had been revealed as the true snake. Allison had even been the one to deal the final blow. But that had left the kanima with no master. And, even if it was clear he didn’t want to, Chris knew an uncontrolled monster had to be put down. It was a task he would not allow to fall on his daughter’s already burdened shoulders.
Jackson had turned, sensing the threat and facing the hunter. Stiles had moved and Derek had followed a second later. Stiles knocked Chris’ aim off, standing between the hunter and the lizard. Derek got an arm around Jackson, pulling him to the ground. Derek had probably saved Stiles’ life, but the teen hadn’t escaped unscathed.
The gashes had been deep, almost touching bone and they had looked even worse. So bad in fact that Scott and Allison had reacted with their most base emotions of horror and fear, leaving vengeance and hate no room to influence their actions.
They threw away whatever was still stuck between them and met in the middle over their wounded friend, hands pressed together over his back. Allison had even snapped her hunters back with sharp words and directions. They’d left obediently, but her father had stayed to help.
Things had been better between the Argents and Derek’s pack since then.
When Derek and his three betas had managed to subdue Jackson and give him time to slowly revert to human form with the death of his master, Derek had been beside the small, huddled group of human, wolf, and hunters in an instant. He tried for control, but something in the tension of his body, the desperation of his movements must have betrayed him because Chris moved clearly away from Stiles, palms up.
Derek didn’t hesitate to put himself between them. The two boys had still been clueless about what was between them at that point, but Derek’s instinct was strong to make it better, to protect and guard. And when he looked at Stiles…
That had been when he’d figured it out.
Because Stiles wasn’t whimpering and pleading for him to make it better. The little twerp was smiling up at Derek. He had tears in his eyes, but they were purely pain. He was actually happy, gasping out at the alpha,
“I’m magic. I think…I got the hunter and the werewolf to play nice again.”
Derek was floored, nearly knocked back by incredulity and that feeling of unfamiliar fondness (that was more than fondness) that Derek hadn’t recognized before and had just taken to calling ‘Stiles’.
“Hey…Lizard breath okay?”
Derek huffed at him, smiling and giving him an affirmative nod.
“Shut up.”
He’d laid a hand on Stiles’ neck and that had been it. He’d known who Stiles was and ‘They’ had become a ‘Them’. (Though it did take until Stiles woke in the hospital the next day for him to groggily come to the same spontaneous conclusion).
The marks were something Derek intrinsically hated, wounds on his mate that should have screamed at Derek for his failure. (He did take some satisfaction in the marked flinch Jackson gave whenever he saw them). But Derek loved them too. Because of what they represented and reminded Derek of every time he saw them running across Stiles’ back.
It was an alpha’s job to protect his pack, none more so than his mate, but that was the thing;
Stiles didn’t need Derek to protect him. He didn’t stay where he was safe, he ran headlong into the fray. Not because he was unafraid, but despite his fear. Stiles’ will to defend and save always won out over any apprehension. Unstoppable, that kid.
He stood beside Derek, defended his pack, their pack, shoulder to shoulder. He was strong on his own. Human and fragile and breakable and strong.
For every time Derek had saved the teen, Stiles had pulled him out of the line of fire just as much, let alone the rest of the pack. It may have been Derek’s job to protect them, but it was Stiles mission; not just their safety, but their happiness too.
The teen just shrugged it off any time his devotion to them was mentioned. He’d basically been keeping Scott alive and relatively well their entire lives, now that habit just extended to a few more people. It was just something Stiles did naturally.
The pack didn’t question it, but they never stopped being amazed by it.
Summary: Nothing with Stiles was easy or clean-cut and Derek has always been a bit oblivious himself. It takes time, and many small moments, for them to realize what’s been going on between them without their notice. Sterek get-together fic with some packness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hit By a Planet
Derek knew. He’d never tell a soul, but he knew why he’d ended up with this kid in the end.
It hadn’t been anything like the stories his mother had read them when they were children and didn’t at all resemble what the girls whispered about in the hallways. There was nothing of a fairytale about this and he never saw it coming. It was less like a romantic comedy and more like being run down by a Mack truck.
Repeatedly.
It wasn’t even a pining, one-sided longing thing either because Stiles had been just as blind-sided. Derek took a bit of pride in the fact that Stiles was even a bit slower to catch on than he had been. He had to have something over the teen after all, just to save his pride.
Because Stiles was the most extraordinary of the ordinary.
There wasn’t one crystallized, perfect moment of realization or anything. Rather, one small thing after another. That’s why Derek hadn’t noticed what was happening, what he was feeling, enough to give it much thought or name until he was being practically slapped in the face with it.
Stiles was terrified of him when they met, he was the smart one after all. He was still afraid of him months later, but that didn’t stop him from standing toe to toe with Derek, staring him down from practically the same height, growling at him in defense of his friend. He stood up for Scott no matter how many times he got smacked down for it. Eventually, he’d begun doing the same for the rest of the pack, even standing up and arguing with Derek, for Derek.
‘Someone’s gotta protect you from you’, he’d say with a glare.
Derek loved how stupid the smartest person he’d ever met could be.
He loved the things he should have hated.
Like the silvery scars Stiles had across his back. They ran up from his hip, crossed his spine, to curl just a bit around the back of his neck, narrowing at the ends. For all Stiles’ total agreement and, sometimes provocation, that they had to kill Jackson and his genuine feeling that Jackson was and would always be the biggest douche on the planet; when it came down to it, Stiles still couldn’t just let him die.
Jackson would have probably left a few good wounds on Chris Argent, but the hunter’s modified gun, along with the machete at his hip, would have taken the out of control teen down in the process.
It was total confusion on both sides after Gerard had been revealed as the true snake. Allison had even been the one to deal the final blow. But that had left the kanima with no master. And, even if it was clear he didn’t want to, Chris knew an uncontrolled monster had to be put down. It was a task he would not allow to fall on his daughter’s already burdened shoulders.
Jackson had turned, sensing the threat and facing the hunter. Stiles had moved and Derek had followed a second later. Stiles knocked Chris’ aim off, standing between the hunter and the lizard. Derek got an arm around Jackson, pulling him to the ground. Derek had probably saved Stiles’ life, but the teen hadn’t escaped unscathed.
The gashes had been deep, almost touching bone and they had looked even worse. So bad in fact that Scott and Allison had reacted with their most base emotions of horror and fear, leaving vengeance and hate no room to influence their actions.
They threw away whatever was still stuck between them and met in the middle over their wounded friend, hands pressed together over his back. Allison had even snapped her hunters back with sharp words and directions. They’d left obediently, but her father had stayed to help.
Things had been better between the Argents and Derek’s pack since then.
When Derek and his three betas had managed to subdue Jackson and give him time to slowly revert to human form with the death of his master, Derek had been beside the small, huddled group of human, wolf, and hunters in an instant. He tried for control, but something in the tension of his body, the desperation of his movements must have betrayed him because Chris moved clearly away from Stiles, palms up.
Derek didn’t hesitate to put himself between them. The two boys had still been clueless about what was between them at that point, but Derek’s instinct was strong to make it better, to protect and guard. And when he looked at Stiles…
That had been when he’d figured it out.
Because Stiles wasn’t whimpering and pleading for him to make it better. The little twerp was smiling up at Derek. He had tears in his eyes, but they were purely pain. He was actually happy, gasping out at the alpha,
“I’m magic. I think…I got the hunter and the werewolf to play nice again.”
Derek was floored, nearly knocked back by incredulity and that feeling of unfamiliar fondness (that was more than fondness) that Derek hadn’t recognized before and had just taken to calling ‘Stiles’.
“Hey…Lizard breath okay?”
Derek huffed at him, smiling and giving him an affirmative nod.
“Shut up.”
He’d laid a hand on Stiles’ neck and that had been it. He’d known who Stiles was and ‘They’ had become a ‘Them’. (Though it did take until Stiles woke in the hospital the next day for him to groggily come to the same spontaneous conclusion).
The marks were something Derek intrinsically hated, wounds on his mate that should have screamed at Derek for his failure. (He did take some satisfaction in the marked flinch Jackson gave whenever he saw them). But Derek loved them too. Because of what they represented and reminded Derek of every time he saw them running across Stiles’ back.
It was an alpha’s job to protect his pack, none more so than his mate, but that was the thing;
Stiles didn’t need Derek to protect him. He didn’t stay where he was safe, he ran headlong into the fray. Not because he was unafraid, but despite his fear. Stiles’ will to defend and save always won out over any apprehension. Unstoppable, that kid.
He stood beside Derek, defended his pack, their pack, shoulder to shoulder. He was strong on his own. Human and fragile and breakable and strong.
For every time Derek had saved the teen, Stiles had pulled him out of the line of fire just as much, let alone the rest of the pack. It may have been Derek’s job to protect them, but it was Stiles mission; not just their safety, but their happiness too.
The teen just shrugged it off any time his devotion to them was mentioned. He’d basically been keeping Scott alive and relatively well their entire lives, now that habit just extended to a few more people. It was just something Stiles did naturally.
The pack didn’t question it, but they never stopped being amazed by it.