The Nine Lives of Stiles Stilinski Part Eight: "Let's Delay Our Misery"
Series: The Nine Lives of Stiles Stilinski
Chapter Title: Let's Delay Our Misery
Part: 8/9
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairings: eventual Derek/Stiles; Scott McCall; Lydia Martin; Jackson Whittemore; Allison Argent; Mystery Guy/Leon; Sheriff Stilinski.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Summary: The day went by slowly. Stiles attributed this to the fact that he felt dead on his feet and would rather be sleeping.
Warnings: un-betaed. This series takes place after season one. This chapter is mostly filler-fluff.
Previous
The day went by slowly. Stiles attributed this to the fact that he felt dead on his feet and would rather be sleeping. Instead Derek had him doing small non-stressful jobs around the house-he still hadn't figured out who's house they were squatting in, there were no photos of people anywhere. It was around mid-afternoon that he finally asked.
“So who's place is this?” It was the first time he'd really spoken since everyone had left, but again he decided it was due to being exhausted. Derek glanced up from where he was putting dishes away.
“I'm renting it, if that's what you mean.” He looked away as he put some plates in a cupboard and returned to the dishwasher to gather the bowls, “Do you like it?”
Stiles was taken off-guard. Why should it matter if he likes it? Instead, he just shrugged and looked around. “There's no pictures. Of people.” He glanced back over at Derek. Derek stopped and turned around, leaning back on the counter.
“Would you like there to be?”
Stiles stared at him for a moment, trying to riddle it out. His eyes narrowed and he curled up more tightly on the couch. “I don't see why it would matter. You're the one living here.”
Derek frowned for a second-not long enough for Stiles to think it was anything more than his imagination-and turned away, putting the rest of the dishes away in silence. Stiles went back to looking at everything, almost like he was trying to dissect it with his eyes. He found nothing interesting, nothing that answered any of his questions. Derek crossed in front of him and sat on the couch next to Stiles. He rested his left ankle on his right knee and reached across the cushions for Stiles. He watched the older man warily, not sure what he was doing. Derek sighed and leaned, catching Stiles' arm and pulling him close. He tried to resist at first, but then slowly tipped over, leaning heavily into the alpha. After all, it was only the two of them and if Derek hadn't wanted that, he wouldn't have been pulling him closer.
Derek's hands rubbed gently over his chest and left side while Stiles studiously stared at the fireplace across the room. Derek seemed satisfied, but warm breath on the side of his face had Stiles glancing in the wolf's direction. Derek's face was close to his, eyes bright and roaming over every inch of his face. It concerned Stiles, but he decided that maybe Derek was just much more of a softy than he'd originally let on. Stiles cleared his throat to speak his mind, but Derek got there first, a warm hand cupping his jaw to turn his head so they looked each other in the eye.
“I can't lose you like that again.” His voice was thick with an emotion that Stiles remembered feeling about his Mom. He swallowed back whatever he'd been about to say, his eyes looking down to avoid seeing that emotion coming from Derek Hale, of all people. Then slightly dry lips were on his, warm and inviting and Stiles' eyes fluttered closed. He wasn't sure if he should respond to this or just let the alpha do as he wished, but part of him needed this too; the part that still wasn't sure if he was really alive. So he kissed back, his heart skipping around and butterflies in his stomach. Who wouldn't, if they were kissing Derek Hale? He didn't know when his hands made it out of the balled up sweatshirt sleeves and into Derek's hair, nor did he know when the chaste kiss had gotten increasingly needy, his tongue being the first to swipe over Derek's lower lip.
It was then that Derek pulled back; it was slow, like he was extricating himself. Stiles realized this after a moment and tried to make himself calm down, to withdraw as well. All he wanted to do was curl up into Derek and let him keep him safe. But Derek broke the kiss and hesitantly reached up, wiping the length of his thumb over Stiles' cheek, whisking away the tears that Stiles didn't even know was coming from him. His cheeks grew hot and he struggled to look away, anywhere but at Derek, even though he was just looking concernedly at him. Derek leaned forward and placed another chaste kiss on his lips, his tongue flicking out and touching hotly to Stiles' lips before he drew back again. Stiles' phone was ringing out in his Jeep, the sound pulling them both out of whatever kind of moment they were having. Stiles' eyebrows knit together even as it dawned on him that his Dad would be pissed about him missing school.
He pulled away sharply and rose to go get his phone, Derek watching him as he gestured to his Jeep, knowing that the other could hear it just as well as he could. “It's probably my Dad.” His words were mumbled and low as he pulled the door open and walked out to his car. He had missed the call, but his phone buzzed as the voicemail came in. Sighing, he dialed to listen to it and leaned against the passenger side door. Derek wandered out with his hands in his pockets as his father's dulcet tones filtered through the speaker. Stiles had to hold the phone an inch away from his ear in order to not be blasted with it. Yup, his Dad was pissed.
He snapped his phone shut and heaved a sigh. His Dad had bought that he was resting at Scott's-he hadn't felt very good, he'd explained. His Dad made him promise that there wouldn't be anymore late nights when it was a school night. Stiles felt it was a little silly, but let him have his way. It wasn't often that his Dad stepped in with any requests of him, it would be bratty to push this one. Especially with Derek listening in. Derek just leaned against the hood of his Jeep with his hands in his pockets, alternating between staring at the ground, the sky and Stiles. It was quiet between them as a breeze rolled through, gentle and refreshing. It smelled clean and not quite like Beacon Hills-Stiles was about to ask, but Derek beat him to it.
“We're in the next town over.” He tilted his head and scuffed his bare foot against the gravel, a couple of stones skittering across the others before coming to a stop. Stiles put his phone in his pocket and nodded wordlessly. He looked at the tops of the trees, the green leaves fluttering and catching the bright sunlight; he slid sideways to rest his shoulder against Derek's. It was odd, but he felt just so content in this moment. Sure, he'd just died and thus lost another of his lives, and the guy who killed him was likely still out there looking for him, but he was safe and sharing a beautiful day with his alpha. Derek's arm went around his shoulders and he turned his head to place a kiss on the side of Stiles' head. Stiles scratched his cheek and let him.
{break}
Scott was more angry than Allison had ever seen him. There was something about the way Lydia kept looking at her when she didn't think Allison could see that made her feel like it was her fault. At lunch she sat with Lydia on one side and Scott on the other. She ate in silence, like if she drew attention to herself then the dam would break and she'd be the one the anger was aimed at. Not that she thought her friends would hurt her, but she didn't want to be on the opposite side of the fight again. Lydia made the off-hand comment when they were walking back to their lockers, Scott and Jackson already off to get their stuff down the hall.
“It's not your fault; don't think they don't realize that.” She flipped her strawberry blond hair and reapplied her lipstick, rubbing her lips together before glancing at Allison. Allison was all set to play dumb, but the knowing look that Lydia gave her made her stop. No, she wouldn't treat her like that. Her voice was almost like a whisper when she spoke.
“You know?” Her eyebrows were arched high and she felt cold. It had been so hard for her when she found out-she had to wonder how Lydia felt. Lydia put up one of her masks and smiled widely, reminding Allison instantly of the wolves.
“Of course I do, and before you start I know about your family too.” Lydia looked over her shoulder at the boys as they started approaching, “But I don't think that they care much beyond what happened and what kind of payback they can give.” Lydia met her eyes, “Just let them know you're on their side and I'm sure you'll be fine.”
It flabbergasted her, that Lydia was acting as if the wolves were just sup-ed up jocks and this was all a power-play. Allison had to give her credit, though, she did seem to adapt well.
{break}
“I should get home.”
Derek glanced at him from where he sat on the couch. Stiles had taken a shower and put his dirty clothes back on. He felt better now that there weren't flakes of dried blood stuck to his skin. He had been a little bit appalled by the sometimes pink, sometimes brown water running in rivulets down his stomach, but it was more at the quantity than the quality of it. He wasn't sure if it was a bullet hitting his heart or if it was blood loss that killed him, nor did he really want to think about it. His skin was still damp, making his clothing stick to his lower back and ribs. Derek was reading a magazine-cars, apparently. Stiles really should have guessed he liked them, seeing as he had a Camaro, still it was a bit surprising to know that the alpha had interests and a life outside of being a werewolf.
Stiles crossed to the couch and plopped down next to him as Derek closed the magazine and tossed it onto the table. Stiles pulled a knee up to his chest and rested his chin on it, arms hugging around his leg. Derek leaned back and put his arm up on the back of the couch behind Stiles. They looked at each other for a moment before Stiles relented and leaned into him again, his head falling into the nook between Derek's chin and shoulder easily. He sat there for a while, his arm slung around Derek's chest and Derek's arm curled around his shoulders, keeping him close. As odd as it was, Derek seemed to be thriving on this. Stiles kept stealing glances up at his face, but it seemed to be just as unreadable as always. Finally he cleared his throat.
“Really, I should go.” Stiles withdrew and looked into Derek's eyes, meaning to say something like 'thank you' or 'goodbye', but he was met with a broad hand on the side of his face and a chaste kiss pressed to his lips. When the kiss ended, Derek rested his forehead against Stiles' and spoke, his voice low and husky.
“I'll be watching you, so nothing else happens.”
He wasn't sure what to say to that, he choked back any words that might have come out anyway and nodded mutely, sitting still for a moment before scrambling up and heading out to his Jeep.
{break}
Scott and Jackson had Lacrosse practice, Lydia stayed to cheer them on, but Allison had excused herself. She needed to know what was really going on-her Dad must know. Home was silent though, everyone was out. So she grabbed a bag of chips and a can of soda, dashing up the stairs and crashing in her room, trying to knock her homework out of the way. That way her Dad couldn't avoid answering her questions by making her go do it.
She was on the third to last math equation when the knock on the door sounded. She chewed her mouthful of chips quickly and guzzled what must have been a quarter of the soda can before going down to answer it. She held out hope that it was Scott, but he was probably still at practice-besides, he usually just climbed up to tap on her bedroom window. She yanked the door open with the thought that it was her Mom or Dad with groceries, but stopped short when it was a tall, scruffy man she didn't recognize.
“Hello?” Guardedly, she kept the door covering the most of her. He didn't smile, but he wasn't exactly frowning either. His voice was low and he had a heavy accent.
“Is your father here?”
{break}
Lydia had secretly been hoping for some more time alone with Allison; or as 'alone' as they could get while sitting on the bleachers watching Lacrosse practice. At least no one would be able to listen to them as Lydia drilled her with questions about werwolves and her family, the Hunters. But Allison had gone home, saying that she had a project due in History that she really needed to put some time into because she didn't want her grades to slip. Lydia had promised to help her with it if she just stayed for Lacrosse practice, but she hadn't given in. Whatever.
Her eyes followed the two wolves as they went through the exercises. She wondered if Stiles would be keeping up with them-he probably would be. She forced herself not to think about that because if she did, she'd remember how he looked when he was laying in a pool of his own blood, dead and staring blankly at the scorched ceiling of the abandoned house in the middle of the woods. She didn't want to think about that. She pulled her sweatshirt tighter around her and pursed her lips, willing herself to stick with the present. The present that had a pack of sweaty teenage boys running laps and scrimmaging. It was a nice present.
When Jackson wasn't on the field he hesitantly approached her, panting only slightly. He took a long drink from his water bottle and laid his stick down on the bench in front of them, sitting beside her and watching the ongoing scrimmage. She didn't look at him at first, but his hand snuck into hers and caused her to glance over at him. “So you're done with the cat?”
Jackson looked startled for a second, but recovered quickly, squeezing her hand tightly and looking back across the field. “It was just instinct. I didn't mean to, I mean... you're the only one for me, Lydia.”
She was quiet as she took this in, brushing some errant strawberry blond curls out of her face as she looked over at him again. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his cheek and spoke softly. “Good. 'Cause I don't want anyone else either.”
The rest of practice was quiet. Jackson left again as he was called back onto the field. He drove her home and they studied, sharing a few kisses in between chapters and questions.
{break}
When Stiles got home his Dad was still at work. He didn't bother to call him to let him know he was home-he'd find out when he got there. He trudged up the stairs and immediately set out to find some new clothes, shirking his old ones and putting them in the hamper. After that he wandered around the house, trying to think of what was best to say to his Dad. He couldn't tell him, which just sucked because he used to share everything with his Dad-before the whole Scott's a werewolf thing-yet he wanted to say something. But what? 'Hey Dad, I got shot and killed by this guy but don't worry, I can turn into a cat and have nine lives-well, seven now.'
But he couldn't tell him what he knew. He couldn't tell him the truth. He had to pretend to be sick. He had to protect his Dad (which admittedly sounded funny since he was older, wiser and a fuckin' Sheriff, but you know...).
When his Dad finally got home, Stiles had cooked dinner as a sort of 'I'm sorry'. His Dad just frowned and told him he shouldn't be up and about if he's sick enough that he can't go to school. He shrugs and coughs, trying to sound both sick and awkward since that's how he feels. The awkward part, not the sick part; although maybe a little sick. The pasta he'd whipped up didn't look all that appetizing right then. He served his Dad and sat down, trying to fork a few bites into himself just to avoid conversation. It wasn't until his Dad got up and put his dishes in the sink that he said anything.
“This can't become the norm, you got it kiddo? Just because I let this happen once doesn't mean I won't come down hard if you start skipping all the time.” He gave Stiles a pointed look, but took some of the bite out of his words by rubbing his hand through Stiles' hair. Stiles just gave him a somewhat pathetic look and slowly ate the rest of his dinner.
His Dad was watching some TV and going over some file he'd brought home while sitting on the couch. Stiles just waved at him and went up to his room. He turned on his computer, but went to the window, looking out. He couldn't see anyone, but Derek had said he'd be there, watching. The car that had been his (now) killer's wasn't there. He breathed a sigh of relief and moved back to his computer. Scott was online, so it didn't take him long to get comfortable and start typing. Mostly it was Scott asking if he was okay-it threw him a bit to suddenly have Scott worried about him instead of the other way around. He said goodnight fairly quickly and told him he'd see him tomorrow before logging off.
He was in bed with the lights off not long after that, but he was reading his Chemistry textbook by the moonlight instead of sleeping. If there was one thing that would make his Dad even more angry than skipping school, it was not doing the best that he could in his classes. Besides, he was sure that he missed something big in class today; he always did. The sound of his window scraping open alerted him, but the scent that came in on the evening breeze was Derek. His muscles relaxed and he waited as Derek slid through the window. His watching didn't seem to phase the alpha at all, he just closed the window and slipped his shoes off, his leather jacket being hung on the back of Stiles' computer chair.
It didn't even bother Stiles that Derek made himself comfortable, complete with climbing onto his bed and coming to rest next to him. He dipped his head to read the cover of the Chemistry textbook and snorted, but didn't say anything. Stiles rolled his eyes and concentrated on the book. It was only a matter of minutes before Derek's hands started to wander. It started as running over the quilt beneath them, then onto Stiles' hip and side, one arm made it's way around his shoulders while the other splayed out over his chest. He huffed and looked over at the wolf with a half-hearted glare. He didn't really expect to be listened to, so it was of little surprise that Derek continued without even a pause. Stiles snapped the textbook closed and smacked at the wandering hands.
“Do you mind?” He did his best to look irritated, but all he got in response was a low growl. “Seriously, why so touchy-feely?”
Derek crossed his arms and looked away, showing his frustration at the situation while he tried to come up with the words he wanted. Stiles knew how this went and just let him be. Derek took a few breaths and turned to look at him again, his lips already moving. “You died, Stiles. I'm just-I just... I'm glad that you're in one piece is all.”
His tone was gruff, but the sentiment was there. Stiles bumped shoulders with him and gave a goofy grin. “I knew you were a big softy.”
Derek gestured to the book that was still in Stiles' lap, purposefully avoiding his eyes. “Shouldn't you be reading that?”
Next
Chapter Title: Let's Delay Our Misery
Part: 8/9
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairings: eventual Derek/Stiles; Scott McCall; Lydia Martin; Jackson Whittemore; Allison Argent; Mystery Guy/Leon; Sheriff Stilinski.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Summary: The day went by slowly. Stiles attributed this to the fact that he felt dead on his feet and would rather be sleeping.
Warnings: un-betaed. This series takes place after season one. This chapter is mostly filler-fluff.
Previous
The day went by slowly. Stiles attributed this to the fact that he felt dead on his feet and would rather be sleeping. Instead Derek had him doing small non-stressful jobs around the house-he still hadn't figured out who's house they were squatting in, there were no photos of people anywhere. It was around mid-afternoon that he finally asked.
“So who's place is this?” It was the first time he'd really spoken since everyone had left, but again he decided it was due to being exhausted. Derek glanced up from where he was putting dishes away.
“I'm renting it, if that's what you mean.” He looked away as he put some plates in a cupboard and returned to the dishwasher to gather the bowls, “Do you like it?”
Stiles was taken off-guard. Why should it matter if he likes it? Instead, he just shrugged and looked around. “There's no pictures. Of people.” He glanced back over at Derek. Derek stopped and turned around, leaning back on the counter.
“Would you like there to be?”
Stiles stared at him for a moment, trying to riddle it out. His eyes narrowed and he curled up more tightly on the couch. “I don't see why it would matter. You're the one living here.”
Derek frowned for a second-not long enough for Stiles to think it was anything more than his imagination-and turned away, putting the rest of the dishes away in silence. Stiles went back to looking at everything, almost like he was trying to dissect it with his eyes. He found nothing interesting, nothing that answered any of his questions. Derek crossed in front of him and sat on the couch next to Stiles. He rested his left ankle on his right knee and reached across the cushions for Stiles. He watched the older man warily, not sure what he was doing. Derek sighed and leaned, catching Stiles' arm and pulling him close. He tried to resist at first, but then slowly tipped over, leaning heavily into the alpha. After all, it was only the two of them and if Derek hadn't wanted that, he wouldn't have been pulling him closer.
Derek's hands rubbed gently over his chest and left side while Stiles studiously stared at the fireplace across the room. Derek seemed satisfied, but warm breath on the side of his face had Stiles glancing in the wolf's direction. Derek's face was close to his, eyes bright and roaming over every inch of his face. It concerned Stiles, but he decided that maybe Derek was just much more of a softy than he'd originally let on. Stiles cleared his throat to speak his mind, but Derek got there first, a warm hand cupping his jaw to turn his head so they looked each other in the eye.
“I can't lose you like that again.” His voice was thick with an emotion that Stiles remembered feeling about his Mom. He swallowed back whatever he'd been about to say, his eyes looking down to avoid seeing that emotion coming from Derek Hale, of all people. Then slightly dry lips were on his, warm and inviting and Stiles' eyes fluttered closed. He wasn't sure if he should respond to this or just let the alpha do as he wished, but part of him needed this too; the part that still wasn't sure if he was really alive. So he kissed back, his heart skipping around and butterflies in his stomach. Who wouldn't, if they were kissing Derek Hale? He didn't know when his hands made it out of the balled up sweatshirt sleeves and into Derek's hair, nor did he know when the chaste kiss had gotten increasingly needy, his tongue being the first to swipe over Derek's lower lip.
It was then that Derek pulled back; it was slow, like he was extricating himself. Stiles realized this after a moment and tried to make himself calm down, to withdraw as well. All he wanted to do was curl up into Derek and let him keep him safe. But Derek broke the kiss and hesitantly reached up, wiping the length of his thumb over Stiles' cheek, whisking away the tears that Stiles didn't even know was coming from him. His cheeks grew hot and he struggled to look away, anywhere but at Derek, even though he was just looking concernedly at him. Derek leaned forward and placed another chaste kiss on his lips, his tongue flicking out and touching hotly to Stiles' lips before he drew back again. Stiles' phone was ringing out in his Jeep, the sound pulling them both out of whatever kind of moment they were having. Stiles' eyebrows knit together even as it dawned on him that his Dad would be pissed about him missing school.
He pulled away sharply and rose to go get his phone, Derek watching him as he gestured to his Jeep, knowing that the other could hear it just as well as he could. “It's probably my Dad.” His words were mumbled and low as he pulled the door open and walked out to his car. He had missed the call, but his phone buzzed as the voicemail came in. Sighing, he dialed to listen to it and leaned against the passenger side door. Derek wandered out with his hands in his pockets as his father's dulcet tones filtered through the speaker. Stiles had to hold the phone an inch away from his ear in order to not be blasted with it. Yup, his Dad was pissed.
He snapped his phone shut and heaved a sigh. His Dad had bought that he was resting at Scott's-he hadn't felt very good, he'd explained. His Dad made him promise that there wouldn't be anymore late nights when it was a school night. Stiles felt it was a little silly, but let him have his way. It wasn't often that his Dad stepped in with any requests of him, it would be bratty to push this one. Especially with Derek listening in. Derek just leaned against the hood of his Jeep with his hands in his pockets, alternating between staring at the ground, the sky and Stiles. It was quiet between them as a breeze rolled through, gentle and refreshing. It smelled clean and not quite like Beacon Hills-Stiles was about to ask, but Derek beat him to it.
“We're in the next town over.” He tilted his head and scuffed his bare foot against the gravel, a couple of stones skittering across the others before coming to a stop. Stiles put his phone in his pocket and nodded wordlessly. He looked at the tops of the trees, the green leaves fluttering and catching the bright sunlight; he slid sideways to rest his shoulder against Derek's. It was odd, but he felt just so content in this moment. Sure, he'd just died and thus lost another of his lives, and the guy who killed him was likely still out there looking for him, but he was safe and sharing a beautiful day with his alpha. Derek's arm went around his shoulders and he turned his head to place a kiss on the side of Stiles' head. Stiles scratched his cheek and let him.
{break}
Scott was more angry than Allison had ever seen him. There was something about the way Lydia kept looking at her when she didn't think Allison could see that made her feel like it was her fault. At lunch she sat with Lydia on one side and Scott on the other. She ate in silence, like if she drew attention to herself then the dam would break and she'd be the one the anger was aimed at. Not that she thought her friends would hurt her, but she didn't want to be on the opposite side of the fight again. Lydia made the off-hand comment when they were walking back to their lockers, Scott and Jackson already off to get their stuff down the hall.
“It's not your fault; don't think they don't realize that.” She flipped her strawberry blond hair and reapplied her lipstick, rubbing her lips together before glancing at Allison. Allison was all set to play dumb, but the knowing look that Lydia gave her made her stop. No, she wouldn't treat her like that. Her voice was almost like a whisper when she spoke.
“You know?” Her eyebrows were arched high and she felt cold. It had been so hard for her when she found out-she had to wonder how Lydia felt. Lydia put up one of her masks and smiled widely, reminding Allison instantly of the wolves.
“Of course I do, and before you start I know about your family too.” Lydia looked over her shoulder at the boys as they started approaching, “But I don't think that they care much beyond what happened and what kind of payback they can give.” Lydia met her eyes, “Just let them know you're on their side and I'm sure you'll be fine.”
It flabbergasted her, that Lydia was acting as if the wolves were just sup-ed up jocks and this was all a power-play. Allison had to give her credit, though, she did seem to adapt well.
{break}
“I should get home.”
Derek glanced at him from where he sat on the couch. Stiles had taken a shower and put his dirty clothes back on. He felt better now that there weren't flakes of dried blood stuck to his skin. He had been a little bit appalled by the sometimes pink, sometimes brown water running in rivulets down his stomach, but it was more at the quantity than the quality of it. He wasn't sure if it was a bullet hitting his heart or if it was blood loss that killed him, nor did he really want to think about it. His skin was still damp, making his clothing stick to his lower back and ribs. Derek was reading a magazine-cars, apparently. Stiles really should have guessed he liked them, seeing as he had a Camaro, still it was a bit surprising to know that the alpha had interests and a life outside of being a werewolf.
Stiles crossed to the couch and plopped down next to him as Derek closed the magazine and tossed it onto the table. Stiles pulled a knee up to his chest and rested his chin on it, arms hugging around his leg. Derek leaned back and put his arm up on the back of the couch behind Stiles. They looked at each other for a moment before Stiles relented and leaned into him again, his head falling into the nook between Derek's chin and shoulder easily. He sat there for a while, his arm slung around Derek's chest and Derek's arm curled around his shoulders, keeping him close. As odd as it was, Derek seemed to be thriving on this. Stiles kept stealing glances up at his face, but it seemed to be just as unreadable as always. Finally he cleared his throat.
“Really, I should go.” Stiles withdrew and looked into Derek's eyes, meaning to say something like 'thank you' or 'goodbye', but he was met with a broad hand on the side of his face and a chaste kiss pressed to his lips. When the kiss ended, Derek rested his forehead against Stiles' and spoke, his voice low and husky.
“I'll be watching you, so nothing else happens.”
He wasn't sure what to say to that, he choked back any words that might have come out anyway and nodded mutely, sitting still for a moment before scrambling up and heading out to his Jeep.
{break}
Scott and Jackson had Lacrosse practice, Lydia stayed to cheer them on, but Allison had excused herself. She needed to know what was really going on-her Dad must know. Home was silent though, everyone was out. So she grabbed a bag of chips and a can of soda, dashing up the stairs and crashing in her room, trying to knock her homework out of the way. That way her Dad couldn't avoid answering her questions by making her go do it.
She was on the third to last math equation when the knock on the door sounded. She chewed her mouthful of chips quickly and guzzled what must have been a quarter of the soda can before going down to answer it. She held out hope that it was Scott, but he was probably still at practice-besides, he usually just climbed up to tap on her bedroom window. She yanked the door open with the thought that it was her Mom or Dad with groceries, but stopped short when it was a tall, scruffy man she didn't recognize.
“Hello?” Guardedly, she kept the door covering the most of her. He didn't smile, but he wasn't exactly frowning either. His voice was low and he had a heavy accent.
“Is your father here?”
{break}
Lydia had secretly been hoping for some more time alone with Allison; or as 'alone' as they could get while sitting on the bleachers watching Lacrosse practice. At least no one would be able to listen to them as Lydia drilled her with questions about werwolves and her family, the Hunters. But Allison had gone home, saying that she had a project due in History that she really needed to put some time into because she didn't want her grades to slip. Lydia had promised to help her with it if she just stayed for Lacrosse practice, but she hadn't given in. Whatever.
Her eyes followed the two wolves as they went through the exercises. She wondered if Stiles would be keeping up with them-he probably would be. She forced herself not to think about that because if she did, she'd remember how he looked when he was laying in a pool of his own blood, dead and staring blankly at the scorched ceiling of the abandoned house in the middle of the woods. She didn't want to think about that. She pulled her sweatshirt tighter around her and pursed her lips, willing herself to stick with the present. The present that had a pack of sweaty teenage boys running laps and scrimmaging. It was a nice present.
When Jackson wasn't on the field he hesitantly approached her, panting only slightly. He took a long drink from his water bottle and laid his stick down on the bench in front of them, sitting beside her and watching the ongoing scrimmage. She didn't look at him at first, but his hand snuck into hers and caused her to glance over at him. “So you're done with the cat?”
Jackson looked startled for a second, but recovered quickly, squeezing her hand tightly and looking back across the field. “It was just instinct. I didn't mean to, I mean... you're the only one for me, Lydia.”
She was quiet as she took this in, brushing some errant strawberry blond curls out of her face as she looked over at him again. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his cheek and spoke softly. “Good. 'Cause I don't want anyone else either.”
The rest of practice was quiet. Jackson left again as he was called back onto the field. He drove her home and they studied, sharing a few kisses in between chapters and questions.
{break}
When Stiles got home his Dad was still at work. He didn't bother to call him to let him know he was home-he'd find out when he got there. He trudged up the stairs and immediately set out to find some new clothes, shirking his old ones and putting them in the hamper. After that he wandered around the house, trying to think of what was best to say to his Dad. He couldn't tell him, which just sucked because he used to share everything with his Dad-before the whole Scott's a werewolf thing-yet he wanted to say something. But what? 'Hey Dad, I got shot and killed by this guy but don't worry, I can turn into a cat and have nine lives-well, seven now.'
But he couldn't tell him what he knew. He couldn't tell him the truth. He had to pretend to be sick. He had to protect his Dad (which admittedly sounded funny since he was older, wiser and a fuckin' Sheriff, but you know...).
When his Dad finally got home, Stiles had cooked dinner as a sort of 'I'm sorry'. His Dad just frowned and told him he shouldn't be up and about if he's sick enough that he can't go to school. He shrugs and coughs, trying to sound both sick and awkward since that's how he feels. The awkward part, not the sick part; although maybe a little sick. The pasta he'd whipped up didn't look all that appetizing right then. He served his Dad and sat down, trying to fork a few bites into himself just to avoid conversation. It wasn't until his Dad got up and put his dishes in the sink that he said anything.
“This can't become the norm, you got it kiddo? Just because I let this happen once doesn't mean I won't come down hard if you start skipping all the time.” He gave Stiles a pointed look, but took some of the bite out of his words by rubbing his hand through Stiles' hair. Stiles just gave him a somewhat pathetic look and slowly ate the rest of his dinner.
His Dad was watching some TV and going over some file he'd brought home while sitting on the couch. Stiles just waved at him and went up to his room. He turned on his computer, but went to the window, looking out. He couldn't see anyone, but Derek had said he'd be there, watching. The car that had been his (now) killer's wasn't there. He breathed a sigh of relief and moved back to his computer. Scott was online, so it didn't take him long to get comfortable and start typing. Mostly it was Scott asking if he was okay-it threw him a bit to suddenly have Scott worried about him instead of the other way around. He said goodnight fairly quickly and told him he'd see him tomorrow before logging off.
He was in bed with the lights off not long after that, but he was reading his Chemistry textbook by the moonlight instead of sleeping. If there was one thing that would make his Dad even more angry than skipping school, it was not doing the best that he could in his classes. Besides, he was sure that he missed something big in class today; he always did. The sound of his window scraping open alerted him, but the scent that came in on the evening breeze was Derek. His muscles relaxed and he waited as Derek slid through the window. His watching didn't seem to phase the alpha at all, he just closed the window and slipped his shoes off, his leather jacket being hung on the back of Stiles' computer chair.
It didn't even bother Stiles that Derek made himself comfortable, complete with climbing onto his bed and coming to rest next to him. He dipped his head to read the cover of the Chemistry textbook and snorted, but didn't say anything. Stiles rolled his eyes and concentrated on the book. It was only a matter of minutes before Derek's hands started to wander. It started as running over the quilt beneath them, then onto Stiles' hip and side, one arm made it's way around his shoulders while the other splayed out over his chest. He huffed and looked over at the wolf with a half-hearted glare. He didn't really expect to be listened to, so it was of little surprise that Derek continued without even a pause. Stiles snapped the textbook closed and smacked at the wandering hands.
“Do you mind?” He did his best to look irritated, but all he got in response was a low growl. “Seriously, why so touchy-feely?”
Derek crossed his arms and looked away, showing his frustration at the situation while he tried to come up with the words he wanted. Stiles knew how this went and just let him be. Derek took a few breaths and turned to look at him again, his lips already moving. “You died, Stiles. I'm just-I just... I'm glad that you're in one piece is all.”
His tone was gruff, but the sentiment was there. Stiles bumped shoulders with him and gave a goofy grin. “I knew you were a big softy.”
Derek gestured to the book that was still in Stiles' lap, purposefully avoiding his eyes. “Shouldn't you be reading that?”
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