How Scared I Was Part One: "We've Been Holding On"
Series: How Scared I Was
Chapter Title: We've Been Holding On
Part: 1/5
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairings: Derek/Stiles; Jackson, Lydia, Scott, Allison.
Rating: PG-15; swearing & implied sex.
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: Dangling upside down, the view of the tunnels was a little eerie.
Warnings: un-betaed. Set four months after the final chapter of The Nine Lives of Stiles Stilinski.
Dangling upside down, the view of the tunnels was a little eerie. To top it all off, Derek had left him literally hanging, saying that it was the contractor on the phone-it was important, so he had to take it. He was fucking naked and dangling from the ceiling in the tunnels below the old Hale house and Derek had ditched him for a phone call. Stiles would have been scrubbing a hand through his hair if he could have reached, but he was a little tied up at the moment. He tugged at the hemp ropes, knowing that he could snap them and be free very easily, but also realizing that if he did something like that Derek would be pissed and tie them quite a bit tighter the next time around. So he arched his back to gain a more comfortable position, his shifting causing the ropes to twist and turn him so he faced the other tunnel. The dark end-the one that chilled him to the bone and made him thisclose to pissing himself. He blew out a lungful of air and waited.
After what felt like forever, but was likely just a couple of minutes, Stiles heard footsteps behind him. As usual, he was mouthy. “Fina-fucking-ly! It's cold and I think all the blood has left my dick and gone to my head.”
The ropes twisted him around a bit, but he couldn't see Derek still. A cold hand rested on his thigh as if in answer to what he'd been saying. He stopped turning in mid-air. Derek still didn't say anything. “Your hand is fucking cold too! It's totally not helping the mood.”
A few moments and his hand kept being almost shockingly cold. “Are you gonna talk to me, or are you just going to give me the silent treatment? 'Cause I swear to fucking Christ if you're just going to stare and be creepy, I'm done. Let me down, seriously.”
“Who are you talking to?” Derek's voice came from far off behind him. The cold hand was suddenly gone and Stiles was performing as a whirligig as he was suddenly spun to face where Derek was coming down the lit tunnel. Stiles felt bile creeping up his throat as he started gibbering. It must have been something about the way he looked or the way he felt because Derek cut him down with his claws and had him bundled against his chest in the span of a heartbeat.
{break}
After four months of being together Stiles had gotten quite used to waking up to Derek's disheveled hair every morning. Or, nearly every morning. He still spent school nights at his house with his Dad, and occasionally he had movie marathon night with Scott where they'd be up until the ass crack of dawn watching bad B movies or re-watching favorites (The Notebook made the cut just to annoy Jackson on one of the nights when he was there too, Lydia was overjoyed and rushed over to be a part of it). Still, Derek was usually in his bed when he slept at his own house, and the nights in between when he was nestled under the covers at Derek's rented place, he woke to Derek's dog breath. Okay, so it wasn't really dog breath-more morning breath than anything. He just liked to tease his boyfriend about being a werewolf.
Today was no exception; Stiles yawned as he sat up, the light from behind the curtains was that of the sun just starting to peek over the horizon. He'd slept longer than usual. He rolled his shoulders and glanced at Derek who had abandoned his pillow in favor of sharing Stiles' and was currently drooling on it. Stiles let him. He was up and scratching his stomach, wandering out to the kitchen in a pair of boxers (the one time he'd wandered out in the nude Scott and Allison had been out there, waiting to take him out for a movie at midday on a Saturday, he'd never wandered around the house in the nude again). He rooted around the fridge, sniffing at everything before deciding whether or not he wanted to eat it for breakfast, and then set about making it.
It was Thanksgiving vacation week and Stiles knew that he'd be spending every day trying to convince Derek to come to his family Thanksgiving (which he was thinking would be nigh impossible). Luckily he wouldn't have to cook at all this time around (last Thanksgiving had been a disaster of burnt turkey and chunky gravy with his Dad and he camped out in the living room), as Aunt Virginia was hosting it, but he figured that having to explain that Derek was his boyfriend to his whole family would be a bit... interesting. His Dad understood and hadn't threatened to shoot Derek even once, which was amazing in every single way, yet Stiles was sure that his cousins would put him through the ringer just knowing that he was gay. He hoped that having a kick ass boyfriend to back him up would keep them from teasing him too much, but if Derek didn't go, he'd have to explain his perennial lack of a girlfriend to his extended family somehow.
He cooked himself eggs, bacon and toast with a tall glass of orange juice to wash it all down. He had more bacon on his plate than anything else, and almost dropped a piece as he sidled over to the couch and fished around for the remote. Putting the volume as low as it would go, he watched the weather channel. Yes yes, call him a nerd, but he liked knowing what he was in for. He sat back on the couch and crunched his toast happily. As he waited for the weather channel to get around to Beacon Hills, Stiles looked around the house. He realized, then, that a lot had changed in four months.
For one, there were pictures of the pack around now. Sure, there weren't many, but they existed and that was enough to off-set the impersonal feel that the house had before. Another was how comfortable Stiles had gotten with his relationship with Derek. Had you mentioned six months ago that Stiles would be closely resembling a domestic housewife for Derek he would have laughed in your face. But now? Now all he could think about was making sure that breakfast was ready before Derek lifted his head from Stiles' drooled on pillow.
Their relationship had grown by leaps and bounds (mostly because Stiles was perpetually horny and Derek actually did do it for him), both emotionally and physically. They were having sex now and had been since two months into it, and it was so much better than anything Stiles had imagined. Maybe it was the two of them, but Stiles wanted to think that at least part of it was the kink. Not that he'd been the one to bring it up-actually Derek hadn't even really 'brought it up', he'd just tied Stiles up and had his way with him. Stiles quite liked it, which had led to last night: it was their first attempt at suspension rope work (Derek did the research for once), and the only place that Derek felt comfortable trying it was in the underground, creepy-ass tunnels that lay beneath his old family house. Why? Stiles couldn't answer that. Maybe because he was only renting this place and Stiles' Dad was at home so it kind of took their options away. Stiles would admit that he liked the actual suspension and the rope against his skin, but the tunnels? He was never going down there again.
In the warm sunlight it seemed ridiculous-made up even-but he knew what he'd felt, what he'd heard. It scared the piss out of him. He was actually quite proud of himself that he hadn't peed when it happened. No, instead he did something equally embarrassing: he'd freaked the fuck out and let Derek actually carry him out of there. The thought of it put him off his breakfast. He set down his fork with a frown and pushed the plate away from him, eyes flicking up to catch the weather. Mostly sunny, twenty percent chance of rain. He shut the TV off.
Two hours later and he had cooked Derek breakfast and was attempting to wake him with gentle nudges. This was stage one. When Derek didn't respond, he moved to stage two: the kisses. He peppered gentle, chaste kisses over Derek's cheekbone, trying to be positive even this early in the morning. It was a work-in-progress in their relationship-they were always too quick to insult each other and Stiles had finally had enough of it, he was inflicting positive behavior on Derek to prove that they could do it. When the kisses didn't work other than to make Derek groan and shift so he was on his back, Stiles moved into dangerous territory-stage three. “Okay, I'm going to pour cold water on you if you don't get your lazy ass out of bed.”
Derek groaned again, showing his displeasure at the threat. Stiles took a step away from the bed, moving like he was going to go fetch the water. He wasn't certain he would actually carry out his threat on Derek, but he could at least pretend he was going to. Derek's hand shot out and hooked around Stiles' leg, pulling him in close and nuzzling the skin there. It was nice except that Derek had smeared drool over his leg. Stiles pulled a face and tugged his leg back in his direction. “I'm serious, Derek, I made you breakfast and you're damn well going to get up and enjoy it.”
Derek opened his eyes. That was more like it. Stiles had his hands on his hips-when had that happened? He dropped his hands to his side. He really didn't need to be any more of a wifey to Derek than he already was. Even Allison wasn't this domestic.
Sitting at the island on a stool, Derek ate his breakfast while Stiles washed the dishes. He was scraping a bit of dried food from a pan with his claw when Derek spoke up. “So that contractor fell through. Can't take on another project right now. It would be late next year before he could work on the house.”
He meant his family's house. He'd been talking about getting it fixed up and had actually called a guy about it last week. In all of the freaking out last night, Stiles hadn't heard what the call was about. He frowned and looked over his shoulder. “So what do you plan to do? Are you going to wait?”
Derek downed the last of his milk-he had something against acidic drinks going with his breakfast, so Stiles skipped over the orange juice when serving him-and shook his head. “I was thinking of starting it up myself. I know that I'll have to take a break come winter and it'll be a lot slower, but I can get some stuff done I think.”
This can-do attitude was different coming from Derek. Stiles thought maybe it was catching and he had gotten it from him. Whatever it was, Stiles liked it. He would support it fully and enthusiastically. “Okay, I'll get everyone to pitch in, then.”
Derek was silent for a long moment and Stiles wasn't sure if he'd just said something stupid or not. He couldn't figure how it would be stupid, so he just put the last of the dishes in the drainer and wiped his hands off on the towel, turning around and shrugging, trying to look casual. “Or not; if you don't want our help that's cool too.”
Derek just studied him, unsettling Stiles a little bit. “Do you think they'd want to help?”
Stiles looked away, grabbing a cup and pouring some orange juice in it, gulping down half the glass before answering. “Sure! Why not? They love you!” He paused, “Well, they love me! They'll help.”
Derek got up, bringing his dishes over to the dishwasher and leaning in, trapping Stiles against the counter and kissing him a bit forcefully, bringing Stiles' attention to him. “Don't force the issue, please. I want volunteers, not slave labor.”
Stiles smiled what he thought was a winning smile, “But slave labor is just as effective.”
{break}
Stiles had artfully dodged answering anything about last night during this morning's conversation with Derek. He'd then set out to see his Dad and drop off his lunch at the station. On the way he called Scott and left a voicemail because apparently Stiles was the only one who bothered to keep in touch anymore. It had been two weeks since the last movie marathon and Stiles was sure that Jackson was getting restless. Speaking of-the ringtone blaring from his phone that sat on his lap while he drove meant that the werewolf in question was calling.
“Yyyello! What's up buddy?” He really didn't mean to be annoying, it just happened.
“I'm not your buddy.” Jackson's growly tone came through the speaker. “Lydia wants to know if you'll go shopping with her today. Apparently Allison has a family trip? Or something.”
“Uhhh... sure! But only if you guys help out Derek with fixing up the house.” Might as well sneak that in while he can, otherwise you can be sure that Jackson would get out of it.
“Didn't he hire some guy to do that? Why does he need us?” Ah, you can always count on Jackson.
“He flaked. Can't take on a new project right now or some shit like that.”
“Oh.” How eloquent, Jackson.
“Tell Scott if you see him.”
“Will do.” There was a scuffle and then Jackson took on a bored tone. “Lydia wants to know if you'll pick her up so you two can go to lunch.”
“Sure. At yours?”
“Yeah.” And just like that Jackson hung up. Stiles let out a breath through pursed lips. It was amazing that Derek hadn't kicked Jackson out of the pack yet, what with how rude he could be, but he supposed there had to be a pack jackass.
{break}
A couple of days later and Stiles had managed to round everyone up. He still hadn't talked about the incident down in the tunnels with anyone, including Derek. Every time he thought about going back there he froze up and started shivering in fear, so he was glad that he was able to avoid it up until today. It was early morning and a mist was hanging in the air, dew heavy on the grass when he drove up, tools packed in the back of his Jeep. Scott and Allison were there already, as was Derek who was sucking down a coffee like it was water. Jackson and Lydia weren't there quite yet, but he'd gotten a text from Lydia saying that they would be running late-she had demanded breakfast before going out into the cold and working on an old, decrepit house. Her words, not his.
Stiles was dragging the tools out and bringing them toward the porch; Derek met him half way and took one of the tool belts from him, looping it over his shoulder and catching the back of his neck with his free hand. He massaged Stiles there and the WerKatze leaned back into it gratefully. Derek leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek, smelling of coffee and rubbing his stubble on his skin. Stiles bumped his shoulder into his side and walked up the steps, smiling at Scott and Allison who were sharing their own coffee.
They stood around for five minutes, waiting for Jackson and Lydia, before they showed up. Lydia was wearing appropriate clothing for working on the house, which meant that Stiles was getting ten bucks from Scott based on the bet that she wouldn't. Stiles knew how smart she was, though, so he knew that she'd probably be ready for anything. Stiles snatched Derek's coffee and sipped it, letting Derek take the lead on telling everyone what to do. Once everyone had collected the tools they needed and started toward their tasks, Derek turned to him.
“You alright?” Derek was studying him.
“Why wouldn't I be?” He didn't want to talk about it. Derek let it go and went off his own way, glancing every once in a while with concern at Stiles. Stiles stayed top-side all day.
Next
Chapter Title: We've Been Holding On
Part: 1/5
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairings: Derek/Stiles; Jackson, Lydia, Scott, Allison.
Rating: PG-15; swearing & implied sex.
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: Dangling upside down, the view of the tunnels was a little eerie.
Warnings: un-betaed. Set four months after the final chapter of The Nine Lives of Stiles Stilinski.
Dangling upside down, the view of the tunnels was a little eerie. To top it all off, Derek had left him literally hanging, saying that it was the contractor on the phone-it was important, so he had to take it. He was fucking naked and dangling from the ceiling in the tunnels below the old Hale house and Derek had ditched him for a phone call. Stiles would have been scrubbing a hand through his hair if he could have reached, but he was a little tied up at the moment. He tugged at the hemp ropes, knowing that he could snap them and be free very easily, but also realizing that if he did something like that Derek would be pissed and tie them quite a bit tighter the next time around. So he arched his back to gain a more comfortable position, his shifting causing the ropes to twist and turn him so he faced the other tunnel. The dark end-the one that chilled him to the bone and made him thisclose to pissing himself. He blew out a lungful of air and waited.
After what felt like forever, but was likely just a couple of minutes, Stiles heard footsteps behind him. As usual, he was mouthy. “Fina-fucking-ly! It's cold and I think all the blood has left my dick and gone to my head.”
The ropes twisted him around a bit, but he couldn't see Derek still. A cold hand rested on his thigh as if in answer to what he'd been saying. He stopped turning in mid-air. Derek still didn't say anything. “Your hand is fucking cold too! It's totally not helping the mood.”
A few moments and his hand kept being almost shockingly cold. “Are you gonna talk to me, or are you just going to give me the silent treatment? 'Cause I swear to fucking Christ if you're just going to stare and be creepy, I'm done. Let me down, seriously.”
“Who are you talking to?” Derek's voice came from far off behind him. The cold hand was suddenly gone and Stiles was performing as a whirligig as he was suddenly spun to face where Derek was coming down the lit tunnel. Stiles felt bile creeping up his throat as he started gibbering. It must have been something about the way he looked or the way he felt because Derek cut him down with his claws and had him bundled against his chest in the span of a heartbeat.
{break}
After four months of being together Stiles had gotten quite used to waking up to Derek's disheveled hair every morning. Or, nearly every morning. He still spent school nights at his house with his Dad, and occasionally he had movie marathon night with Scott where they'd be up until the ass crack of dawn watching bad B movies or re-watching favorites (The Notebook made the cut just to annoy Jackson on one of the nights when he was there too, Lydia was overjoyed and rushed over to be a part of it). Still, Derek was usually in his bed when he slept at his own house, and the nights in between when he was nestled under the covers at Derek's rented place, he woke to Derek's dog breath. Okay, so it wasn't really dog breath-more morning breath than anything. He just liked to tease his boyfriend about being a werewolf.
Today was no exception; Stiles yawned as he sat up, the light from behind the curtains was that of the sun just starting to peek over the horizon. He'd slept longer than usual. He rolled his shoulders and glanced at Derek who had abandoned his pillow in favor of sharing Stiles' and was currently drooling on it. Stiles let him. He was up and scratching his stomach, wandering out to the kitchen in a pair of boxers (the one time he'd wandered out in the nude Scott and Allison had been out there, waiting to take him out for a movie at midday on a Saturday, he'd never wandered around the house in the nude again). He rooted around the fridge, sniffing at everything before deciding whether or not he wanted to eat it for breakfast, and then set about making it.
It was Thanksgiving vacation week and Stiles knew that he'd be spending every day trying to convince Derek to come to his family Thanksgiving (which he was thinking would be nigh impossible). Luckily he wouldn't have to cook at all this time around (last Thanksgiving had been a disaster of burnt turkey and chunky gravy with his Dad and he camped out in the living room), as Aunt Virginia was hosting it, but he figured that having to explain that Derek was his boyfriend to his whole family would be a bit... interesting. His Dad understood and hadn't threatened to shoot Derek even once, which was amazing in every single way, yet Stiles was sure that his cousins would put him through the ringer just knowing that he was gay. He hoped that having a kick ass boyfriend to back him up would keep them from teasing him too much, but if Derek didn't go, he'd have to explain his perennial lack of a girlfriend to his extended family somehow.
He cooked himself eggs, bacon and toast with a tall glass of orange juice to wash it all down. He had more bacon on his plate than anything else, and almost dropped a piece as he sidled over to the couch and fished around for the remote. Putting the volume as low as it would go, he watched the weather channel. Yes yes, call him a nerd, but he liked knowing what he was in for. He sat back on the couch and crunched his toast happily. As he waited for the weather channel to get around to Beacon Hills, Stiles looked around the house. He realized, then, that a lot had changed in four months.
For one, there were pictures of the pack around now. Sure, there weren't many, but they existed and that was enough to off-set the impersonal feel that the house had before. Another was how comfortable Stiles had gotten with his relationship with Derek. Had you mentioned six months ago that Stiles would be closely resembling a domestic housewife for Derek he would have laughed in your face. But now? Now all he could think about was making sure that breakfast was ready before Derek lifted his head from Stiles' drooled on pillow.
Their relationship had grown by leaps and bounds (mostly because Stiles was perpetually horny and Derek actually did do it for him), both emotionally and physically. They were having sex now and had been since two months into it, and it was so much better than anything Stiles had imagined. Maybe it was the two of them, but Stiles wanted to think that at least part of it was the kink. Not that he'd been the one to bring it up-actually Derek hadn't even really 'brought it up', he'd just tied Stiles up and had his way with him. Stiles quite liked it, which had led to last night: it was their first attempt at suspension rope work (Derek did the research for once), and the only place that Derek felt comfortable trying it was in the underground, creepy-ass tunnels that lay beneath his old family house. Why? Stiles couldn't answer that. Maybe because he was only renting this place and Stiles' Dad was at home so it kind of took their options away. Stiles would admit that he liked the actual suspension and the rope against his skin, but the tunnels? He was never going down there again.
In the warm sunlight it seemed ridiculous-made up even-but he knew what he'd felt, what he'd heard. It scared the piss out of him. He was actually quite proud of himself that he hadn't peed when it happened. No, instead he did something equally embarrassing: he'd freaked the fuck out and let Derek actually carry him out of there. The thought of it put him off his breakfast. He set down his fork with a frown and pushed the plate away from him, eyes flicking up to catch the weather. Mostly sunny, twenty percent chance of rain. He shut the TV off.
Two hours later and he had cooked Derek breakfast and was attempting to wake him with gentle nudges. This was stage one. When Derek didn't respond, he moved to stage two: the kisses. He peppered gentle, chaste kisses over Derek's cheekbone, trying to be positive even this early in the morning. It was a work-in-progress in their relationship-they were always too quick to insult each other and Stiles had finally had enough of it, he was inflicting positive behavior on Derek to prove that they could do it. When the kisses didn't work other than to make Derek groan and shift so he was on his back, Stiles moved into dangerous territory-stage three. “Okay, I'm going to pour cold water on you if you don't get your lazy ass out of bed.”
Derek groaned again, showing his displeasure at the threat. Stiles took a step away from the bed, moving like he was going to go fetch the water. He wasn't certain he would actually carry out his threat on Derek, but he could at least pretend he was going to. Derek's hand shot out and hooked around Stiles' leg, pulling him in close and nuzzling the skin there. It was nice except that Derek had smeared drool over his leg. Stiles pulled a face and tugged his leg back in his direction. “I'm serious, Derek, I made you breakfast and you're damn well going to get up and enjoy it.”
Derek opened his eyes. That was more like it. Stiles had his hands on his hips-when had that happened? He dropped his hands to his side. He really didn't need to be any more of a wifey to Derek than he already was. Even Allison wasn't this domestic.
Sitting at the island on a stool, Derek ate his breakfast while Stiles washed the dishes. He was scraping a bit of dried food from a pan with his claw when Derek spoke up. “So that contractor fell through. Can't take on another project right now. It would be late next year before he could work on the house.”
He meant his family's house. He'd been talking about getting it fixed up and had actually called a guy about it last week. In all of the freaking out last night, Stiles hadn't heard what the call was about. He frowned and looked over his shoulder. “So what do you plan to do? Are you going to wait?”
Derek downed the last of his milk-he had something against acidic drinks going with his breakfast, so Stiles skipped over the orange juice when serving him-and shook his head. “I was thinking of starting it up myself. I know that I'll have to take a break come winter and it'll be a lot slower, but I can get some stuff done I think.”
This can-do attitude was different coming from Derek. Stiles thought maybe it was catching and he had gotten it from him. Whatever it was, Stiles liked it. He would support it fully and enthusiastically. “Okay, I'll get everyone to pitch in, then.”
Derek was silent for a long moment and Stiles wasn't sure if he'd just said something stupid or not. He couldn't figure how it would be stupid, so he just put the last of the dishes in the drainer and wiped his hands off on the towel, turning around and shrugging, trying to look casual. “Or not; if you don't want our help that's cool too.”
Derek just studied him, unsettling Stiles a little bit. “Do you think they'd want to help?”
Stiles looked away, grabbing a cup and pouring some orange juice in it, gulping down half the glass before answering. “Sure! Why not? They love you!” He paused, “Well, they love me! They'll help.”
Derek got up, bringing his dishes over to the dishwasher and leaning in, trapping Stiles against the counter and kissing him a bit forcefully, bringing Stiles' attention to him. “Don't force the issue, please. I want volunteers, not slave labor.”
Stiles smiled what he thought was a winning smile, “But slave labor is just as effective.”
{break}
Stiles had artfully dodged answering anything about last night during this morning's conversation with Derek. He'd then set out to see his Dad and drop off his lunch at the station. On the way he called Scott and left a voicemail because apparently Stiles was the only one who bothered to keep in touch anymore. It had been two weeks since the last movie marathon and Stiles was sure that Jackson was getting restless. Speaking of-the ringtone blaring from his phone that sat on his lap while he drove meant that the werewolf in question was calling.
“Yyyello! What's up buddy?” He really didn't mean to be annoying, it just happened.
“I'm not your buddy.” Jackson's growly tone came through the speaker. “Lydia wants to know if you'll go shopping with her today. Apparently Allison has a family trip? Or something.”
“Uhhh... sure! But only if you guys help out Derek with fixing up the house.” Might as well sneak that in while he can, otherwise you can be sure that Jackson would get out of it.
“Didn't he hire some guy to do that? Why does he need us?” Ah, you can always count on Jackson.
“He flaked. Can't take on a new project right now or some shit like that.”
“Oh.” How eloquent, Jackson.
“Tell Scott if you see him.”
“Will do.” There was a scuffle and then Jackson took on a bored tone. “Lydia wants to know if you'll pick her up so you two can go to lunch.”
“Sure. At yours?”
“Yeah.” And just like that Jackson hung up. Stiles let out a breath through pursed lips. It was amazing that Derek hadn't kicked Jackson out of the pack yet, what with how rude he could be, but he supposed there had to be a pack jackass.
{break}
A couple of days later and Stiles had managed to round everyone up. He still hadn't talked about the incident down in the tunnels with anyone, including Derek. Every time he thought about going back there he froze up and started shivering in fear, so he was glad that he was able to avoid it up until today. It was early morning and a mist was hanging in the air, dew heavy on the grass when he drove up, tools packed in the back of his Jeep. Scott and Allison were there already, as was Derek who was sucking down a coffee like it was water. Jackson and Lydia weren't there quite yet, but he'd gotten a text from Lydia saying that they would be running late-she had demanded breakfast before going out into the cold and working on an old, decrepit house. Her words, not his.
Stiles was dragging the tools out and bringing them toward the porch; Derek met him half way and took one of the tool belts from him, looping it over his shoulder and catching the back of his neck with his free hand. He massaged Stiles there and the WerKatze leaned back into it gratefully. Derek leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek, smelling of coffee and rubbing his stubble on his skin. Stiles bumped his shoulder into his side and walked up the steps, smiling at Scott and Allison who were sharing their own coffee.
They stood around for five minutes, waiting for Jackson and Lydia, before they showed up. Lydia was wearing appropriate clothing for working on the house, which meant that Stiles was getting ten bucks from Scott based on the bet that she wouldn't. Stiles knew how smart she was, though, so he knew that she'd probably be ready for anything. Stiles snatched Derek's coffee and sipped it, letting Derek take the lead on telling everyone what to do. Once everyone had collected the tools they needed and started toward their tasks, Derek turned to him.
“You alright?” Derek was studying him.
“Why wouldn't I be?” He didn't want to talk about it. Derek let it go and went off his own way, glancing every once in a while with concern at Stiles. Stiles stayed top-side all day.
Next