Belief is a Wise Wager
Title: Belief is a Wise Wager
Summary: Stiles accepts a new job (thanks to Mayor Laura Hale), in a new town and inadvertently starts a war, but it’s not his fault. Honestly.
Warnings: Frottage, Mentions of Bottom Derek
Rating: Mature
Chapters: 12/?
Notes: I swore up, down and whatever other direction that I wouldn’t post another WIP, yet here it is! I just feel like I’m more motivated to work harder once I’ve posted.
PS AO3
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-
It took Danny no time in emailing Stiles back all the hacked information he got from Verdun’s system. For once in Stiles’ life he was almost begrudged Danny for being so efficient and quick because Stiles had a million and one more questions racing through his mind and he just wanted to ask Derek every single one of them. But then Stiles’ laptop was beeping and he had a new email and the pending war took precedent over Stiles’ curiosity.
Stiles sets up the laptop on the computer desk with Derek hovering behind him, a lot closer than strictly necessary but Stiles isn’t about to complain, as they try and go through the pages and pages of information.
“You’re going too fast,” Derek mutters watching as Stiles scrolls through the pages a mile a minute.
“Perks of working with computers for a living. Just tell me if I should be looking for anything in particular.”
Derek tells him to be on the lookout for any weapons they may have and strategic plans which is what Stiles assumed he’d be looking for anyway. After hundreds of pages of useless information from food, alcohol and toiletries orders do they come across a page of the list of all the residents - and their special “assets.”
There are a dozen or so Argents and Stiles finds Allison’s name and her weapon of choice being a crossbow and he can’t imagine the Allison he met only hours ago, so sweet aiming a crossbow at anyone let alone Scott. But Stiles knows better than to underestimate the power of manipulation and corruption.
Beside the residents’ names and their weapon of choice is other basic information like their date of birth, their date of death if any of them were deceased and stuff ranging from who they were married to, if they had children etc. It was basically a genealogy of the entire town. Stiles’ eyes land on the name Kate Argent, ringing bells to what he heard only moments ago from Laura and as much as Stiles is curious he goes to scroll past it before Derek’s hands fly to Stiles’ wrist to stop his scrolling. Stiles ignores the rush of electricity he feels from Derek’s hand on him - because clearly, it’s all in his head. Or he’s still running on shock and not fully recovered from the injury to his head.
It gives Stiles the time to read the information on Kate Argent except there isn’t very much; it’s not as detailed as all the others are. It shows that Kate Argent is the daughter of Gerard Argent which Stiles knows as the man who shot a fucking arrow into Scott’s chest and that her brother is Chris Argent (the man Stiles met at the Argent Tavern) and Chris is the father of Allison. They really are all connected.
Other than that it doesn’t have Kate’s weapon of choice and Stiles notices the difference between Kate and the other residents is that beside her birthdate to show that the others are still alive it reads their birthdate with a hyphen to show they’re alive. Beside Kate’s is a hyphen with a question mark. Is Kate not in Verdun anymore, has she run away, gone missing, been killed?
“We should get to Laura,” Derek interrupts standing up straight and heading for the stairs, Stiles has no other option but to shut his laptop and chasing after Derek, laptop under his arms.
-
The minute the two men walk into Town Hall everyone that had been shuffling around, lugging equipment or setting up stations stop and stare. The abrupt silence is deafening.
“You!” someone he’s only seen around the village a handful of times - Doyle - exclaims lunging and before Stiles can register what’s going Doyle is on his back with a boot pressing down on his chest.
Doyle struggles for breath sputtering as Derek presses his boot down harder, “it’s his fault,” Doyle gasps, “he brought the hunters here!”
There’s a collective nodding of heads, some in agreement and others backing away from the confrontation. Stiles is a little relieved to the people he thought he could call friends are in fact his friends; they’re the ones edging closer to Stiles ready to defend him. Others are shooting him dirty looks like they’re ready to raise their weapons and shoot him on the spot and ask questions later.
“If you’ve forgotten,” Derek spits out, “the hunters have always been there living a town over from us, this isn’t news. Stiles nor anyone else started this, Gerard did and you’d be wise to remember that. You have a problem you take it up with me or Laura, not with Stiles. Unless it’s to apologise.”
Derek emphasizes his point by pushing the heel of his boot harder until Doyle looks like he’s about to turn blue.
“Sorry,” Doyle gasps for breath once Derek removes his boot. He grabs Stiles by the arm and leads him up the familiar staircase to Laura’s office.
“I wasn’t in any peril,” Stiles tries to joke as he’s being dragged up the stairs, struggling not to drop his laptop either.
“On any other day you could have handled them,” Derek concedes, “but they’re riled up and on edge about the war their instincts are to fight not flight and you happened to be on the other end of their fighting instincts. Now, you’re not.”
Derek barges into Laura’s office not bothering to knock before he shuts the door again and locks it. Stiles stumbles in behind him and can see that Laura, Boyd and Charles are already in there huddled around the desk discussing something. It looks as if Boyd has been brought into the loop of what actually happened all those years ago or he’s always known.
“What’s your decision Stiles?” Laura asks without bothering with any formalities, “if we let you leave can you be trusted to never open your mouth?”
“Pretty sure the only answer to that is yes I can be trusted. Lord knows what you’d do if I said no,” Stiles answers scratching the back of his head.
“We can tell if a person lies,” Laura smirks.
Stiles gulps and shivers a little as the three people who were already in the room all stare at him without any hint of friendliness that’s been there the past month. The only semi-relaxing figure is standing behind him - and never did Stiles think that Derek would be a relaxing figure in his life. If he weren’t in a stressful situation he probably would have laughed about it.
“Well it doesn’t matter,” Stiles holds his head high in defiance, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying, I want to help.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” Charles finally speaks up.
Stiles waves his laptop in the air like it’s a Holy Grail and in a way it kind of it. It holds all the information that Verdun has and he places it down on Laura’s large desk on top of the papers they were huddled over as he explains as much to Boyd, Laura and Charles. He goes over all the information from the residents in Verdun to their measly shopping expenses just in case something catches their eye that didn’t catch his or Derek’s.
Laura nods her heads, points to certain information as Boyd writes things down while Charles gives his two cents about the information. Stiles doesn’t try and think about the actual pending war and imminent danger looming because he has no idea how he’s actually going to contribute, who’s going to make it out alive and unscathed and worse yet who’s going to die, if anyone?
“I don’t get why Kate’s information is skewed while everyone else’s is up to date. Are you sure this hasn’t been tampered with when you got it Stiles?” Boyd asks but this time his eyes aren’t unnerving or angry they’re genuinely interested.
“What? Of course it hasn’t been tampered with; this is the information straight as it came from Verdun!”
“Stiles is right,” Laura sighs.
“What?” Boyd and Derek ask in unison.
Laura takes a moment to look at Charles, who gives her a slight nod before she speaks again.
“After the fire, in that interim of time when I was becoming Alpha and Charles was helping me, guiding and advising me, we caught wind that Kate had bailed on Verdun. No one knew where she went not even Gerard or her brother Chris. We heard from another pack that she had fled to Quebec, trying to blend in and remain under the radar. So I went there, hunted her down and finished her.”
“You what?” Derek stammered. Stiles stood resolutely still not moving a muscle, not even daring to blink because he had no idea how to take this information. Granted yes, they were heading into a battle so to speak, but the actual confession of killing - well that was a little hard to stomach. Despite what Kate did in the past.
“I couldn’t barge into Verdun could I?” Laura explains, “that would be putting the whole village in danger. But that, bitch ran and thought she could get away with it? Whether Gerard put her up to it or not, she did it and she was going to pay for it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, watch her bleed out from her throat, the defiance in her eyes like she ever had a chance of living, like her pathetic father or brother would come to the rescue. I weakened Verdun, maybe not directly from the top but it was enough to get Gerard searching for her I’m sure, that’s why Chris took over. I’m guessing Gerard caught wind from somebody that her body was found - it’s not as if I ever hid it. I wanted someone to find it. He just had to know where to look.”
“She’s been dead all these years?” Derek whispered, his face looked ashen white before he balled his hands into a fist and advanced around the desk to stand directly in front of his sister.
“She’s been dead all these years,” Derek repeated his voice raising an octave higher, “and you never told me? I’ve been looking behind my back all the years, expecting to see her face, expecting to see her start another fire and she’s been dead? Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
“Because Charles and I talked about it,” Laura glared standing to her full height eyes flashing red in a warning, “either way Derek you would have been carrying the guilt around like a scarlet letter branded on your forehead. The less you knew the better, the less chance of the rest of village finding out.”
“I had just as much as a right to know as you,” Derek looked deflated but his voice still held the anger.
“Well if I die and you become Alpha you can handle the village affairs and what’s good for it at your own accord Derek.”
If it were possible for steam to come out of a person’s ears - which at this point, Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised given everything he’s learned - than it would be coming out of Derek’s right about now. He looked as if he were ready to pounce on Laura much the same he had to Doyle only a few minutes ago but Boyd stepped in between the siblings and Charles cleared his throat.
It was enough of an intervention for Derek to take a step back, take a breath, and turn on his heels and storm out of Laura’s office. Stiles looked between where Laura was standing, Boyd with a firm grip on her upper arm and Charles murmuring something to her and the swinging door that Derek had just exited from, deciding where to go and what to do. He grabbed his laptop from the desk and ran down the stairs yelling at Derek to wait for him.
“I’ve got to blow off some steam, go home Stiles,” Derek muttered before running off.
-
Like fuck was Stiles going to go home and sit around on his ass all night - well early morning, the sun looked like it was about to rise any minute now. He also wasn’t stupid enough to go searching for Derek and wherever he ran off to. He could be anywhere in the dense forest that surrounds Wulfstan and the last thing Stiles needs is another run in with Gerard. The only logical thing to do is make sure his buddy Scott is alright since he hasn’t seen him since a few hours ago in the woods.
When Stiles doesn’t find him at Scott’s house, he knows he wasn’t at the Town Hall so he heads to the doctor’s office. Melissa greets Stiles with a tentative smile and a once over to make sure that he’s okay before she’s pointing to the stairs leading upstairs. He tries the first three doors on his right before he finally finds Scott sitting behind a desk with his head in his hands in a trance like state, drifting between trying to stay awake and just wanting sleep.
“Hey bud, you okay?” Stiles asks closing the door and stepping further into the room.
“It’s my entire fault,” Scott groans, “if we even make it out of this thing alive I’m as good as gone.”
“I - well I mean, I guess you did know Allison was a rival?” Stiles starts wincing as the words come out of his mouth, “but I mean even Derek is on your side, he said something about her dad sheltering her from that life or something.”
“Derek said that?” Scott perks up for a minute before going deflated again, “it doesn’t matter anyway, none of it does now. Allison and I will probably never be together again anyway, and what’s going to happen to me and my mom - well that’s the most important,” Scott looks as if he’s going to break down and cry any second and Stiles just wants to fix it but doesn’t know how.
“What do you mean happen to you and your mom?”
Scott blows a puff of air out of his mouth and starts to explain once Stiles sits down.
He starts off by explaining that he hadn’t always lived in Wulfstan - that he actually used to live in California, only a few hours away from where Stiles used to live in Beacon Hills. He also explains that he didn’t always use to be a werewolf and Stiles wants to interject but keeps his mouth shut, letting Scott get it out in his own time. One night, Scott and his friend Greenberg were out in the forest just fucking around like normal pre-teens do when they weren’t invited to the coolest parties when something attacked him, bit him. Greenberg had helped him back to his place in a rush and stayed with Scott the night just to make sure he was okay, when Scott protested about going to the hospital - because his mother who was on call would find out.
Scott explains that things only became a lot stranger. Once Greenberg went home the following morning, Scott realised the bite marks were gone - and he thought he would have dreamt it all if it weren’t for the blood that had stained his shirt. He didn’t know what the hell to make of it and forgot about it, until the full moon that was.
He started to feel different, his senses becoming heightened, could smell the fear and arousal coming off of people, where they’d been, what they’d eaten, what they’d been doing. He didn’t understand what it meant at the time, the emotions coming off of people - it was just like a tidal wave of scents and tingling wafting towards him. The next thing he knew his body was contorting the night of the full moon, turning into a werewolf and he had almost attacked his parents. Scott’s dad had a shotgun in the house and shot Scott, not realising it was his son until he fell to the ground, blood pouring out of him and he changed back to his human form.
Melissa and shrieked and rushed to the ground to see if her son was okay, Scott’s father had backed away mortified at what was unfolding in front of him. Melissa had shrieked all over again when she had ran for the phone to call an ambulance only to see that her son was healed, the bullet had fallen out of his stomach and the hole had closed over. Scott’s eyes had started glowing yellow and he backed away trying to get away from his parents, lock himself away to keep them safe.
The morning after Scott felt like his old self again, except the heightened senses were still there, only he wasn’t contorting into a werewolf. Melissa looked terrified of her son, but kept him home from school for a few days so they could figure what the hell was going on. Scott’s father didn’t talk to Scott, look at him or come home those first few nights.
Eventually Scott’s father bailed, never to be seen again and it was just Scott and Melissa. Melissa hadn’t known what to do, who to talk to until she somehow found out about Wulfstan and they packed up and moved. Melissa had begged and pleaded with Laura who was the new Alpha to let them stay, to help Scott. Laura agreed and that’s how Melissa and Scott came to be living in Wulfstan.
“But you’re just as much a resident here by now as the rest of them,” Stiles points out.
Scott shakes his head, “I was bitten, and it’s different. I still get looked down upon by some of the people here. They won’t say anything out loud but I can just tell.”
Stiles has questions about the whole being bitten thing, but he thinks he can save that for another time. He also realises that explains why there weren’t any pictures of Scott’s father at Melissa’s house - they didn’t want to remember a man who bailed on his own son.
“And Allison? Do you think she’s really corrupt like her grandfather?”
“No,” Scott rubs his hands down his face, “she hardly had a relationship with her grandfather as far as I knew. He wasn’t around. Chris raised her alone, after her mom passed away. Chris didn’t have a problem with Wulfstan as long as we didn’t have a problem with them.”
“Then we’ll fight for her.”
“What?” Scott startles.
“We’ll fight for her, for your mom for whatever you want. When this is done and over with if you want to stay in Wulfstan then we’ll fight for it, if you want to move get the hell away from here and Verdun and be with Allison, we’ll fight for that. You’re my bud and you’ve been through hell and back you deserve something good. We all do.”
“You think you’d move away with me and Allison and my mom?” Scott jokes.
“As long as I don’t have to see any more arrows in your chest then hell yeah, maybe paintballs because paintballing is awesome.”
“Unless something keeps you here in Wulfstan,” Scott smiles wryly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stiles admonishes his cheeks turning slightly red, “c’mon let’s get you home and to bed you look like you’re about to pass out.”
Despite Stiles supposed to be the one walking Scott home, Scott insists that he walks Stiles home. After all he is the werewolf and theoretically should be able to handle himself. Stiles doesn’t want to point out what happened only hours ago, besides he doesn’t really want another run in with an angry resident blaming him.
-
The two next days and nights go by without incident. When Stiles arrived home after Scott had made sure he made it safely, it was to find Derek sitting in his room on the arm chair Derek had bought him. Stiles had cause for a near panic attack considering he started stripping out of his clothes as he walked up the stairs to take a shower and wash the nights grime away. So, he stood in his bedroom his hand on his chest trying to calm is racketing heartbeat with no shirt on and his fly open and his jeans half way down his ass.
“Don’t pass out on me again,” Derek’s mouth turning up in a smirk.
“That’s not even funny, what are you doing here?” Stiles starts doing his fly up again so recover some of his dignity.
“Wanted to make sure you’re alright. There’s no use being here on your own in case something happens.”
“My hero. So you just decided to sit in my bedroom?”
“Who else is going to keep watch?
“I’d say you just want to avoid going back to your house and having to see Laura.”
“Perceptive,” Derek raises his eyebrow.
“I’m going to take a shower, I’d say make yourself at home but it seems you already have.”
And Derek really has made himself at home. When Stiles is out of the shower and in his sleep pants and an old Beacon Hills Police Department t-shirt he finds Derek in the living room with a duffel bag at the foot of the couch, Derek sitting and flipping through an old photo album.
They spend the next half hour as Stiles explains who all the people are in the photos; mainly they’re older ones of him and his mom and dad, when they were alive. Some are from high school and he points out who Lydia is and his friend Danny that was on Skype a few hours ago. There are some photos of ex-boyfriends which Stiles just skips over saying that was a life time ago.
Derek nods his head and listens as Stiles talks about his parents, running his fingers over the old photographs like they’ll transport memories from Stiles childhood, a happier time. He doesn’t growl at seeing pictures of Stiles’ ex-boyfriends - because really, that’s just immature (though Derek’s not entirely above it). After Stiles yawned repeatedly he waved his arm in the air and said he was going to hit the sack. He brought down a spare pillow and blanket for Derek to use on the couch.
-
For all the yawning Stiles had done he slept in fits of no longer than a few minutes before he jolted awake thinking he heard something, or was about to miss something. His heart rate would settle down and he’d drift off to sleep before he woke again in the same panic.
“You’re like a jack in the box,” Derek says knocking on Stiles’ door through a yawn, “I can hear you from downstairs.”
“Surprisingly it’s not the first time someone’s told me that,” Stiles sighs referring to being called a jack in the box, “you can come in or whatever. Sorry for keeping you awake,” when he hears the door creak open.
“Everything alright?” Derek asks hovering by the door only coming in when Stiles waves his hand, permission. He sits at the foot of the bed and faces where Stiles is leaning against the headboard.
“Just stressing a little,” Stiles confesses, “talk to me.”
“What?”
“I know you’re a man of a few words but talk to me, I don’t know about your mechanic mumbo jumbo - maybe it’ll put be to sleep.”
Derek grabs at Stiles’ ankle through the comforter in a firm grip, Stiles tries to manoeuvre away laughing except he can’t get very far unless he wants to roll out of the bed. Derek’s hand grabs at Stiles’ other ankle and now Stiles has nowhere to even move, flailing about in the same spot which doesn’t help because he can feel his sleep pants sliding down under the bed sheets.
“Okay,” Stiles breaths out laughing, “okay, okay, I tap out man.”
Derek smirks releasing Stiles from his grip, Stiles narrows his eyes while trying to subtly rearrange his sleep pants so they’re back on his hips where they belong. He doesn’t miss the way Derek’s eyes track the movements happening under the covers.
“So, make yourself useful Wolf Man, talk,” Stiles says absolutely, definitely trying not to think too hard about where Derek’s eyes just wandered. I mean he still has covers hiding his lower body, so it’s not like Derek actually saw anything.
Derek sighs but leans against the panelling at the foot of the bed swinging his feet up to rest by Stiles’ hands and starts to talk. He doesn’t talk about his mechanic mumbo jumbo, just sort of talks about anything and everything. He talks about Isaac and why they’re so close, his mother had passed away and his dad was just an abusive douchebag to say the least. How Boyd is quiet but efficient in everything he does, has a loyalty to Laura not just because she’s the Alpha and boss, Boyd’s love for Erica and how they were high school sweethearts - and how it’s absolutely sickening. How Erica really isn’t all that bad - you just have to get used to her, which means she is a bitch but you learn to realise when she’s being serious and when she’s joking. He doesn’t talk much about his family or Kate and Stiles doesn’t push it and before he knows it his eyes are drifting shut.
-
Stiles wakes up to a foot in his face - which is not cute, at all - and an arm draped over his legs. Derek’s in the exact same spot he was hours ago, only now he’s lying down on the bed without a pillow, his arm causally over Stiles’ legs.
The minute Stiles sits up, Derek’s up in a flash as well blinking around the room. Their eyes land on the clock and it says it’s almost noon. And while usually they should feel guilty for sleeping in so late, it is New Year’s Day so it’s not like they have work to attend to.
Stiles is about to say something about having a foot in his face - because just, ew - but he did get the sleep he was after and his stomach rumbles. Beside the cup of stale soup Derek had given him the previous night when he woke up from his semi-coma he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink.
“All I’ve got to offer is Lucky Charms or frozen chocolate chip waffles,” Stiles jokes untangling himself from the sheets.
“Both,” Derek answers strolling to the bathroom to take a piss - and hello, this is Stiles’ house; he should get to use the bathroom first.
Stiles pops four frozen waffles in the toaster and putting some coffee to brew before running to the downstairs bathroom to relieve himself. When he comes back out Derek’s at the table pouring himself a bowl of Lucky Charms, he even placed another bowl at the table for Stiles.
Derek shakes his head no when Stiles offers him coffee and it’s startling to Stiles how well they mesh, moving around the tiny kitchen without bumping into each other as they prepare breakfast. It’s domestic in a way Stiles had never expected in a million years - not with Derek anyway.
“So, plan of action today?” Stiles asks through a mouthful of gooey chocolate chip waffle drenched in syrup.
“I guess we see Laura,” Derek wrinkles his nose up - which is adorable to Stiles.
Stiles never had any siblings growing up, or cousins close in age that lived near to him - so he’s often been fascinated about sibling interactions. He always wondered what it would be like; would they bicker in front of their parents but secretly get along when the parents were away? Would they tell each other secrets, loan money to each other to go out and do stupid things like get a tattoo or buy alcohol underage? Would they cover for you when you wanted to sneak out, and leave the latch on the window open so you could sneak back in?
Stiles wonders if that’s how it was with Laura and Derek. Despite their hastiness towards each other at the minute, he has seen them interact before everything happened, especially at Christmas. How Laura made them all huddle in by the Christmas tree with the camera on the tripod trying to get a picture. How Laura teased Derek about the little things - Stiles hopes they get back to that and soon.
After breakfast Derek excuses himself and asks if he can use the shower while Stiles changes his clothes before they head out to the Town Hall. It’s a perfectly bright, sunny day the reflection of the snow making it even brighter and it’s as if there was no pending war, if you ignored the eerie silence and tension throughout the village.
At the Town Hall Laura and Derek at least don’t butt heads. She sighs and tells them that there’s nothing they can do, not yet. They don’t want to make the first move and walk into a trap - they’ll just have to wait until Verdun makes a move, or maybe they’re scared and backed off. Which is unlikely. Except, there’s nothing worse than waiting for the opponent to make the first punch.
So Stiles spends the day with Scott at the Doctor’s office going through supplies and making sure there’s enough of everything while Derek goes off somewhere with Isaac to patrol the boarders.
-
It’s not even a surprise or unsettling that night when they’re both ready for bed, in Stiles’ bed talking like the previous night. Except, unlike the night before Derek is sitting beside Stiles with his back also against the headboard. Stiles doesn’t need any more feet in his face.
“I’m telling you, he had a foot fetish it freaked me the fuck out!” Stiles exclaims. Somehow they got onto the conversation of disastrous dates and Stiles was talking about how one his friend (who’s so not a friend anymore because of that date, from college) set him up on a blind date.
“Seriously?” Derek asks dubiously.
“Yes! It started off okay; he wasn’t the greatest looking but then again either am I. Anyway, we were at dinner and talking and this guy walked by in flip flops and he just wouldn’t stop staring! I had to snap my fingers to get his attention and then he just went off about his love for feet, he wasn’t embarrassed or shy about it.”
“So what did you do?”
“I excused myself to go to the bathroom, found one of the waitresses, paid my half of the bill and climbed out the bathroom window.”
“You didn’t?” Derek snorted.
“Oh believe me, I did. At least I didn’t leave him with the whole bill! Granted I probably didn’t have to go out the bathroom window, but we were seated right by the window at the front of the restaurant, I was scared he’d see me.”
“Good thing I don’t like feet then,” Derek says nonchalantly, “hands, maybe.”
“Oh yeah? Like these big guys?” Stiles jokes holding up his hands.
“You have long fingers,” Derek notes looking at where Stiles is holding up his hands.
And whoa, the first thing Stiles thinks about is certainly not what he could be doing with those long fingers. Nope, not at all. Except, he could totally picture Derek on his back with Stiles nestled in between watching as he opens Derek up, yielding his body to him.
Stiles clears his throat while also trying to clear away those thoughts but he’s suddenly feeling very hot in his sleep pants and t-shirt.
“I can’t be the first person to have ever told you that.”
“No,” Stiles admits, ‘but you’re the first person who has said that and I want to fuck your ass with my fingers until you’re grinding down on them,’ Stiles doesn’t, thankfully, add on.
“Well then.”
“Did you mean it, at the bar that first night?” Stiles blurts out, and where the hell did that come from?
“Mean what?” and Stiles can’t tell if Derek is baiting him or he genuinely is asking.
“When you asked if I was offering? When I said it must get incestuous in this village, sex wise.”
“You’re asking me, if I was serious about asking you if you were offering?” Derek asks raising an eyebrow.
“Well when you put it like that,” Stiles huffs, “I just meant, am I way off base here? Am I going to embarrass myself if I try something? I don’t normally make the first move, like ever.”
Derek shrugs but he’s smiling which settles Stiles a little.
“Oh God,” Stiles groans, “you’re really going to make me do it.”
Stiles closes his eyes, rubbing them with his hands and from one minute to the next he’s turning on the bed and grabbing Derek’s face with his and crushing his mouth against Derek’s. He digs his nails into the nape of Derek’s neck his thumb pressing at Derek’s throat that would otherwise hurt anyone else, but a werewolf. Derek doesn’t seem to mind as he groans into Stiles’ mouth his hand moving to Stiles’ hip as Stiles straddles Derek.
“How long?” Stiles gasps into Derek’s mouth, nibbling at his bottom lip.
“When you came over for dinner,” Derek rumbles bringing Stiles hips down to grind against Derek’s clothed cock. They rut against each other, getting into a rhythm that’s just too good, but needs far less clothes between then. Stiles grabs the hair at the nape of Derek’s neck, bringing his head back as he runs his mouth along Derek’s jaw and neck. He kisses his way down, not wanting to leave marks but just have the opportunity to run his mouth anywhere on Derek that he can get to.
Derek abruptly stops their grinding and Stiles makes a noise of protest, unlatching from Derek’s neck to lean back to see Derek.
“What?”
“How long for you?” Derek asks, his firm grip not letting Stiles grind down anymore, and it’s frustrating for the both of them, “I know it wasn’t when we first met, or even as long as it was for me.”
“I - last night?” Stiles winces.
“Last night,” Derek repeats man-handing Stiles off of his lap, “so what is this, trying to get in one last fuck before heading off into a war? Why didn’t you just leave when you had the chance then?” Derek gets up off the bed, standing awkwardly at the side of the bed like he doesn’t know where to go or what to do.
“That’s not it,” Stiles sighs, “and I resent you’d think that of me. I mean I was always sexually attracted to you because look at you! That 8 o’clock stubble is unreal and unbelievably sexy but last night when you and Laura were talking when you thought I was unconscious - it was a side of you that wasn’t guarded or gruff, it was real, it was you the full you. That’s when I knew. That’s why I wanted to stay.”
Derek sighs crossing his arms like he’s trying to think.
“I didn’t think anything of it before because I didn’t want to be some conquest for you,” Stiles admits.
“I feel the same,” Derek admits.
“Well then, now that we’ve got all the feelings out of the way…” Stiles trails off waving towards his body and Derek’s.
Derek rolls his eyes but Stiles jumps up on his knees, knee-walking towards Derek on the bed. Derek grabs hold of a chunk of Stiles t-shirt bringing him the last few inches towards him, as he leans down and kisses Stiles. He opens his mouth up slowly, as he lets his hand slip down the front of Stiles sleep pants.
They’re just getting into the groove of things, Stile starting to lean back so he can lie down on the bed when there’s a loud boom, something like an explosion and the ground shaking. They pull apart both looking startled. Stiles is about to ask what’s happened when Derek speaks.
“There’s been an explosion - they blew something up in the village square.”
A few seconds later, confirming Derek’s words Stiles can hear screams from outside.
Looks like the war has begun.
Summary: Stiles accepts a new job (thanks to Mayor Laura Hale), in a new town and inadvertently starts a war, but it’s not his fault. Honestly.
Warnings: Frottage, Mentions of Bottom Derek
Rating: Mature
Chapters: 12/?
Notes: I swore up, down and whatever other direction that I wouldn’t post another WIP, yet here it is! I just feel like I’m more motivated to work harder once I’ve posted.
PS AO3
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-
It took Danny no time in emailing Stiles back all the hacked information he got from Verdun’s system. For once in Stiles’ life he was almost begrudged Danny for being so efficient and quick because Stiles had a million and one more questions racing through his mind and he just wanted to ask Derek every single one of them. But then Stiles’ laptop was beeping and he had a new email and the pending war took precedent over Stiles’ curiosity.
Stiles sets up the laptop on the computer desk with Derek hovering behind him, a lot closer than strictly necessary but Stiles isn’t about to complain, as they try and go through the pages and pages of information.
“You’re going too fast,” Derek mutters watching as Stiles scrolls through the pages a mile a minute.
“Perks of working with computers for a living. Just tell me if I should be looking for anything in particular.”
Derek tells him to be on the lookout for any weapons they may have and strategic plans which is what Stiles assumed he’d be looking for anyway. After hundreds of pages of useless information from food, alcohol and toiletries orders do they come across a page of the list of all the residents - and their special “assets.”
There are a dozen or so Argents and Stiles finds Allison’s name and her weapon of choice being a crossbow and he can’t imagine the Allison he met only hours ago, so sweet aiming a crossbow at anyone let alone Scott. But Stiles knows better than to underestimate the power of manipulation and corruption.
Beside the residents’ names and their weapon of choice is other basic information like their date of birth, their date of death if any of them were deceased and stuff ranging from who they were married to, if they had children etc. It was basically a genealogy of the entire town. Stiles’ eyes land on the name Kate Argent, ringing bells to what he heard only moments ago from Laura and as much as Stiles is curious he goes to scroll past it before Derek’s hands fly to Stiles’ wrist to stop his scrolling. Stiles ignores the rush of electricity he feels from Derek’s hand on him - because clearly, it’s all in his head. Or he’s still running on shock and not fully recovered from the injury to his head.
It gives Stiles the time to read the information on Kate Argent except there isn’t very much; it’s not as detailed as all the others are. It shows that Kate Argent is the daughter of Gerard Argent which Stiles knows as the man who shot a fucking arrow into Scott’s chest and that her brother is Chris Argent (the man Stiles met at the Argent Tavern) and Chris is the father of Allison. They really are all connected.
Other than that it doesn’t have Kate’s weapon of choice and Stiles notices the difference between Kate and the other residents is that beside her birthdate to show that the others are still alive it reads their birthdate with a hyphen to show they’re alive. Beside Kate’s is a hyphen with a question mark. Is Kate not in Verdun anymore, has she run away, gone missing, been killed?
“We should get to Laura,” Derek interrupts standing up straight and heading for the stairs, Stiles has no other option but to shut his laptop and chasing after Derek, laptop under his arms.
-
The minute the two men walk into Town Hall everyone that had been shuffling around, lugging equipment or setting up stations stop and stare. The abrupt silence is deafening.
“You!” someone he’s only seen around the village a handful of times - Doyle - exclaims lunging and before Stiles can register what’s going Doyle is on his back with a boot pressing down on his chest.
Doyle struggles for breath sputtering as Derek presses his boot down harder, “it’s his fault,” Doyle gasps, “he brought the hunters here!”
There’s a collective nodding of heads, some in agreement and others backing away from the confrontation. Stiles is a little relieved to the people he thought he could call friends are in fact his friends; they’re the ones edging closer to Stiles ready to defend him. Others are shooting him dirty looks like they’re ready to raise their weapons and shoot him on the spot and ask questions later.
“If you’ve forgotten,” Derek spits out, “the hunters have always been there living a town over from us, this isn’t news. Stiles nor anyone else started this, Gerard did and you’d be wise to remember that. You have a problem you take it up with me or Laura, not with Stiles. Unless it’s to apologise.”
Derek emphasizes his point by pushing the heel of his boot harder until Doyle looks like he’s about to turn blue.
“Sorry,” Doyle gasps for breath once Derek removes his boot. He grabs Stiles by the arm and leads him up the familiar staircase to Laura’s office.
“I wasn’t in any peril,” Stiles tries to joke as he’s being dragged up the stairs, struggling not to drop his laptop either.
“On any other day you could have handled them,” Derek concedes, “but they’re riled up and on edge about the war their instincts are to fight not flight and you happened to be on the other end of their fighting instincts. Now, you’re not.”
Derek barges into Laura’s office not bothering to knock before he shuts the door again and locks it. Stiles stumbles in behind him and can see that Laura, Boyd and Charles are already in there huddled around the desk discussing something. It looks as if Boyd has been brought into the loop of what actually happened all those years ago or he’s always known.
“What’s your decision Stiles?” Laura asks without bothering with any formalities, “if we let you leave can you be trusted to never open your mouth?”
“Pretty sure the only answer to that is yes I can be trusted. Lord knows what you’d do if I said no,” Stiles answers scratching the back of his head.
“We can tell if a person lies,” Laura smirks.
Stiles gulps and shivers a little as the three people who were already in the room all stare at him without any hint of friendliness that’s been there the past month. The only semi-relaxing figure is standing behind him - and never did Stiles think that Derek would be a relaxing figure in his life. If he weren’t in a stressful situation he probably would have laughed about it.
“Well it doesn’t matter,” Stiles holds his head high in defiance, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying, I want to help.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” Charles finally speaks up.
Stiles waves his laptop in the air like it’s a Holy Grail and in a way it kind of it. It holds all the information that Verdun has and he places it down on Laura’s large desk on top of the papers they were huddled over as he explains as much to Boyd, Laura and Charles. He goes over all the information from the residents in Verdun to their measly shopping expenses just in case something catches their eye that didn’t catch his or Derek’s.
Laura nods her heads, points to certain information as Boyd writes things down while Charles gives his two cents about the information. Stiles doesn’t try and think about the actual pending war and imminent danger looming because he has no idea how he’s actually going to contribute, who’s going to make it out alive and unscathed and worse yet who’s going to die, if anyone?
“I don’t get why Kate’s information is skewed while everyone else’s is up to date. Are you sure this hasn’t been tampered with when you got it Stiles?” Boyd asks but this time his eyes aren’t unnerving or angry they’re genuinely interested.
“What? Of course it hasn’t been tampered with; this is the information straight as it came from Verdun!”
“Stiles is right,” Laura sighs.
“What?” Boyd and Derek ask in unison.
Laura takes a moment to look at Charles, who gives her a slight nod before she speaks again.
“After the fire, in that interim of time when I was becoming Alpha and Charles was helping me, guiding and advising me, we caught wind that Kate had bailed on Verdun. No one knew where she went not even Gerard or her brother Chris. We heard from another pack that she had fled to Quebec, trying to blend in and remain under the radar. So I went there, hunted her down and finished her.”
“You what?” Derek stammered. Stiles stood resolutely still not moving a muscle, not even daring to blink because he had no idea how to take this information. Granted yes, they were heading into a battle so to speak, but the actual confession of killing - well that was a little hard to stomach. Despite what Kate did in the past.
“I couldn’t barge into Verdun could I?” Laura explains, “that would be putting the whole village in danger. But that, bitch ran and thought she could get away with it? Whether Gerard put her up to it or not, she did it and she was going to pay for it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, watch her bleed out from her throat, the defiance in her eyes like she ever had a chance of living, like her pathetic father or brother would come to the rescue. I weakened Verdun, maybe not directly from the top but it was enough to get Gerard searching for her I’m sure, that’s why Chris took over. I’m guessing Gerard caught wind from somebody that her body was found - it’s not as if I ever hid it. I wanted someone to find it. He just had to know where to look.”
“She’s been dead all these years?” Derek whispered, his face looked ashen white before he balled his hands into a fist and advanced around the desk to stand directly in front of his sister.
“She’s been dead all these years,” Derek repeated his voice raising an octave higher, “and you never told me? I’ve been looking behind my back all the years, expecting to see her face, expecting to see her start another fire and she’s been dead? Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
“Because Charles and I talked about it,” Laura glared standing to her full height eyes flashing red in a warning, “either way Derek you would have been carrying the guilt around like a scarlet letter branded on your forehead. The less you knew the better, the less chance of the rest of village finding out.”
“I had just as much as a right to know as you,” Derek looked deflated but his voice still held the anger.
“Well if I die and you become Alpha you can handle the village affairs and what’s good for it at your own accord Derek.”
If it were possible for steam to come out of a person’s ears - which at this point, Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised given everything he’s learned - than it would be coming out of Derek’s right about now. He looked as if he were ready to pounce on Laura much the same he had to Doyle only a few minutes ago but Boyd stepped in between the siblings and Charles cleared his throat.
It was enough of an intervention for Derek to take a step back, take a breath, and turn on his heels and storm out of Laura’s office. Stiles looked between where Laura was standing, Boyd with a firm grip on her upper arm and Charles murmuring something to her and the swinging door that Derek had just exited from, deciding where to go and what to do. He grabbed his laptop from the desk and ran down the stairs yelling at Derek to wait for him.
“I’ve got to blow off some steam, go home Stiles,” Derek muttered before running off.
-
Like fuck was Stiles going to go home and sit around on his ass all night - well early morning, the sun looked like it was about to rise any minute now. He also wasn’t stupid enough to go searching for Derek and wherever he ran off to. He could be anywhere in the dense forest that surrounds Wulfstan and the last thing Stiles needs is another run in with Gerard. The only logical thing to do is make sure his buddy Scott is alright since he hasn’t seen him since a few hours ago in the woods.
When Stiles doesn’t find him at Scott’s house, he knows he wasn’t at the Town Hall so he heads to the doctor’s office. Melissa greets Stiles with a tentative smile and a once over to make sure that he’s okay before she’s pointing to the stairs leading upstairs. He tries the first three doors on his right before he finally finds Scott sitting behind a desk with his head in his hands in a trance like state, drifting between trying to stay awake and just wanting sleep.
“Hey bud, you okay?” Stiles asks closing the door and stepping further into the room.
“It’s my entire fault,” Scott groans, “if we even make it out of this thing alive I’m as good as gone.”
“I - well I mean, I guess you did know Allison was a rival?” Stiles starts wincing as the words come out of his mouth, “but I mean even Derek is on your side, he said something about her dad sheltering her from that life or something.”
“Derek said that?” Scott perks up for a minute before going deflated again, “it doesn’t matter anyway, none of it does now. Allison and I will probably never be together again anyway, and what’s going to happen to me and my mom - well that’s the most important,” Scott looks as if he’s going to break down and cry any second and Stiles just wants to fix it but doesn’t know how.
“What do you mean happen to you and your mom?”
Scott blows a puff of air out of his mouth and starts to explain once Stiles sits down.
He starts off by explaining that he hadn’t always lived in Wulfstan - that he actually used to live in California, only a few hours away from where Stiles used to live in Beacon Hills. He also explains that he didn’t always use to be a werewolf and Stiles wants to interject but keeps his mouth shut, letting Scott get it out in his own time. One night, Scott and his friend Greenberg were out in the forest just fucking around like normal pre-teens do when they weren’t invited to the coolest parties when something attacked him, bit him. Greenberg had helped him back to his place in a rush and stayed with Scott the night just to make sure he was okay, when Scott protested about going to the hospital - because his mother who was on call would find out.
Scott explains that things only became a lot stranger. Once Greenberg went home the following morning, Scott realised the bite marks were gone - and he thought he would have dreamt it all if it weren’t for the blood that had stained his shirt. He didn’t know what the hell to make of it and forgot about it, until the full moon that was.
He started to feel different, his senses becoming heightened, could smell the fear and arousal coming off of people, where they’d been, what they’d eaten, what they’d been doing. He didn’t understand what it meant at the time, the emotions coming off of people - it was just like a tidal wave of scents and tingling wafting towards him. The next thing he knew his body was contorting the night of the full moon, turning into a werewolf and he had almost attacked his parents. Scott’s dad had a shotgun in the house and shot Scott, not realising it was his son until he fell to the ground, blood pouring out of him and he changed back to his human form.
Melissa and shrieked and rushed to the ground to see if her son was okay, Scott’s father had backed away mortified at what was unfolding in front of him. Melissa had shrieked all over again when she had ran for the phone to call an ambulance only to see that her son was healed, the bullet had fallen out of his stomach and the hole had closed over. Scott’s eyes had started glowing yellow and he backed away trying to get away from his parents, lock himself away to keep them safe.
The morning after Scott felt like his old self again, except the heightened senses were still there, only he wasn’t contorting into a werewolf. Melissa looked terrified of her son, but kept him home from school for a few days so they could figure what the hell was going on. Scott’s father didn’t talk to Scott, look at him or come home those first few nights.
Eventually Scott’s father bailed, never to be seen again and it was just Scott and Melissa. Melissa hadn’t known what to do, who to talk to until she somehow found out about Wulfstan and they packed up and moved. Melissa had begged and pleaded with Laura who was the new Alpha to let them stay, to help Scott. Laura agreed and that’s how Melissa and Scott came to be living in Wulfstan.
“But you’re just as much a resident here by now as the rest of them,” Stiles points out.
Scott shakes his head, “I was bitten, and it’s different. I still get looked down upon by some of the people here. They won’t say anything out loud but I can just tell.”
Stiles has questions about the whole being bitten thing, but he thinks he can save that for another time. He also realises that explains why there weren’t any pictures of Scott’s father at Melissa’s house - they didn’t want to remember a man who bailed on his own son.
“And Allison? Do you think she’s really corrupt like her grandfather?”
“No,” Scott rubs his hands down his face, “she hardly had a relationship with her grandfather as far as I knew. He wasn’t around. Chris raised her alone, after her mom passed away. Chris didn’t have a problem with Wulfstan as long as we didn’t have a problem with them.”
“Then we’ll fight for her.”
“What?” Scott startles.
“We’ll fight for her, for your mom for whatever you want. When this is done and over with if you want to stay in Wulfstan then we’ll fight for it, if you want to move get the hell away from here and Verdun and be with Allison, we’ll fight for that. You’re my bud and you’ve been through hell and back you deserve something good. We all do.”
“You think you’d move away with me and Allison and my mom?” Scott jokes.
“As long as I don’t have to see any more arrows in your chest then hell yeah, maybe paintballs because paintballing is awesome.”
“Unless something keeps you here in Wulfstan,” Scott smiles wryly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stiles admonishes his cheeks turning slightly red, “c’mon let’s get you home and to bed you look like you’re about to pass out.”
Despite Stiles supposed to be the one walking Scott home, Scott insists that he walks Stiles home. After all he is the werewolf and theoretically should be able to handle himself. Stiles doesn’t want to point out what happened only hours ago, besides he doesn’t really want another run in with an angry resident blaming him.
-
The two next days and nights go by without incident. When Stiles arrived home after Scott had made sure he made it safely, it was to find Derek sitting in his room on the arm chair Derek had bought him. Stiles had cause for a near panic attack considering he started stripping out of his clothes as he walked up the stairs to take a shower and wash the nights grime away. So, he stood in his bedroom his hand on his chest trying to calm is racketing heartbeat with no shirt on and his fly open and his jeans half way down his ass.
“Don’t pass out on me again,” Derek’s mouth turning up in a smirk.
“That’s not even funny, what are you doing here?” Stiles starts doing his fly up again so recover some of his dignity.
“Wanted to make sure you’re alright. There’s no use being here on your own in case something happens.”
“My hero. So you just decided to sit in my bedroom?”
“Who else is going to keep watch?
“I’d say you just want to avoid going back to your house and having to see Laura.”
“Perceptive,” Derek raises his eyebrow.
“I’m going to take a shower, I’d say make yourself at home but it seems you already have.”
And Derek really has made himself at home. When Stiles is out of the shower and in his sleep pants and an old Beacon Hills Police Department t-shirt he finds Derek in the living room with a duffel bag at the foot of the couch, Derek sitting and flipping through an old photo album.
They spend the next half hour as Stiles explains who all the people are in the photos; mainly they’re older ones of him and his mom and dad, when they were alive. Some are from high school and he points out who Lydia is and his friend Danny that was on Skype a few hours ago. There are some photos of ex-boyfriends which Stiles just skips over saying that was a life time ago.
Derek nods his head and listens as Stiles talks about his parents, running his fingers over the old photographs like they’ll transport memories from Stiles childhood, a happier time. He doesn’t growl at seeing pictures of Stiles’ ex-boyfriends - because really, that’s just immature (though Derek’s not entirely above it). After Stiles yawned repeatedly he waved his arm in the air and said he was going to hit the sack. He brought down a spare pillow and blanket for Derek to use on the couch.
-
For all the yawning Stiles had done he slept in fits of no longer than a few minutes before he jolted awake thinking he heard something, or was about to miss something. His heart rate would settle down and he’d drift off to sleep before he woke again in the same panic.
“You’re like a jack in the box,” Derek says knocking on Stiles’ door through a yawn, “I can hear you from downstairs.”
“Surprisingly it’s not the first time someone’s told me that,” Stiles sighs referring to being called a jack in the box, “you can come in or whatever. Sorry for keeping you awake,” when he hears the door creak open.
“Everything alright?” Derek asks hovering by the door only coming in when Stiles waves his hand, permission. He sits at the foot of the bed and faces where Stiles is leaning against the headboard.
“Just stressing a little,” Stiles confesses, “talk to me.”
“What?”
“I know you’re a man of a few words but talk to me, I don’t know about your mechanic mumbo jumbo - maybe it’ll put be to sleep.”
Derek grabs at Stiles’ ankle through the comforter in a firm grip, Stiles tries to manoeuvre away laughing except he can’t get very far unless he wants to roll out of the bed. Derek’s hand grabs at Stiles’ other ankle and now Stiles has nowhere to even move, flailing about in the same spot which doesn’t help because he can feel his sleep pants sliding down under the bed sheets.
“Okay,” Stiles breaths out laughing, “okay, okay, I tap out man.”
Derek smirks releasing Stiles from his grip, Stiles narrows his eyes while trying to subtly rearrange his sleep pants so they’re back on his hips where they belong. He doesn’t miss the way Derek’s eyes track the movements happening under the covers.
“So, make yourself useful Wolf Man, talk,” Stiles says absolutely, definitely trying not to think too hard about where Derek’s eyes just wandered. I mean he still has covers hiding his lower body, so it’s not like Derek actually saw anything.
Derek sighs but leans against the panelling at the foot of the bed swinging his feet up to rest by Stiles’ hands and starts to talk. He doesn’t talk about his mechanic mumbo jumbo, just sort of talks about anything and everything. He talks about Isaac and why they’re so close, his mother had passed away and his dad was just an abusive douchebag to say the least. How Boyd is quiet but efficient in everything he does, has a loyalty to Laura not just because she’s the Alpha and boss, Boyd’s love for Erica and how they were high school sweethearts - and how it’s absolutely sickening. How Erica really isn’t all that bad - you just have to get used to her, which means she is a bitch but you learn to realise when she’s being serious and when she’s joking. He doesn’t talk much about his family or Kate and Stiles doesn’t push it and before he knows it his eyes are drifting shut.
-
Stiles wakes up to a foot in his face - which is not cute, at all - and an arm draped over his legs. Derek’s in the exact same spot he was hours ago, only now he’s lying down on the bed without a pillow, his arm causally over Stiles’ legs.
The minute Stiles sits up, Derek’s up in a flash as well blinking around the room. Their eyes land on the clock and it says it’s almost noon. And while usually they should feel guilty for sleeping in so late, it is New Year’s Day so it’s not like they have work to attend to.
Stiles is about to say something about having a foot in his face - because just, ew - but he did get the sleep he was after and his stomach rumbles. Beside the cup of stale soup Derek had given him the previous night when he woke up from his semi-coma he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink.
“All I’ve got to offer is Lucky Charms or frozen chocolate chip waffles,” Stiles jokes untangling himself from the sheets.
“Both,” Derek answers strolling to the bathroom to take a piss - and hello, this is Stiles’ house; he should get to use the bathroom first.
Stiles pops four frozen waffles in the toaster and putting some coffee to brew before running to the downstairs bathroom to relieve himself. When he comes back out Derek’s at the table pouring himself a bowl of Lucky Charms, he even placed another bowl at the table for Stiles.
Derek shakes his head no when Stiles offers him coffee and it’s startling to Stiles how well they mesh, moving around the tiny kitchen without bumping into each other as they prepare breakfast. It’s domestic in a way Stiles had never expected in a million years - not with Derek anyway.
“So, plan of action today?” Stiles asks through a mouthful of gooey chocolate chip waffle drenched in syrup.
“I guess we see Laura,” Derek wrinkles his nose up - which is adorable to Stiles.
Stiles never had any siblings growing up, or cousins close in age that lived near to him - so he’s often been fascinated about sibling interactions. He always wondered what it would be like; would they bicker in front of their parents but secretly get along when the parents were away? Would they tell each other secrets, loan money to each other to go out and do stupid things like get a tattoo or buy alcohol underage? Would they cover for you when you wanted to sneak out, and leave the latch on the window open so you could sneak back in?
Stiles wonders if that’s how it was with Laura and Derek. Despite their hastiness towards each other at the minute, he has seen them interact before everything happened, especially at Christmas. How Laura made them all huddle in by the Christmas tree with the camera on the tripod trying to get a picture. How Laura teased Derek about the little things - Stiles hopes they get back to that and soon.
After breakfast Derek excuses himself and asks if he can use the shower while Stiles changes his clothes before they head out to the Town Hall. It’s a perfectly bright, sunny day the reflection of the snow making it even brighter and it’s as if there was no pending war, if you ignored the eerie silence and tension throughout the village.
At the Town Hall Laura and Derek at least don’t butt heads. She sighs and tells them that there’s nothing they can do, not yet. They don’t want to make the first move and walk into a trap - they’ll just have to wait until Verdun makes a move, or maybe they’re scared and backed off. Which is unlikely. Except, there’s nothing worse than waiting for the opponent to make the first punch.
So Stiles spends the day with Scott at the Doctor’s office going through supplies and making sure there’s enough of everything while Derek goes off somewhere with Isaac to patrol the boarders.
-
It’s not even a surprise or unsettling that night when they’re both ready for bed, in Stiles’ bed talking like the previous night. Except, unlike the night before Derek is sitting beside Stiles with his back also against the headboard. Stiles doesn’t need any more feet in his face.
“I’m telling you, he had a foot fetish it freaked me the fuck out!” Stiles exclaims. Somehow they got onto the conversation of disastrous dates and Stiles was talking about how one his friend (who’s so not a friend anymore because of that date, from college) set him up on a blind date.
“Seriously?” Derek asks dubiously.
“Yes! It started off okay; he wasn’t the greatest looking but then again either am I. Anyway, we were at dinner and talking and this guy walked by in flip flops and he just wouldn’t stop staring! I had to snap my fingers to get his attention and then he just went off about his love for feet, he wasn’t embarrassed or shy about it.”
“So what did you do?”
“I excused myself to go to the bathroom, found one of the waitresses, paid my half of the bill and climbed out the bathroom window.”
“You didn’t?” Derek snorted.
“Oh believe me, I did. At least I didn’t leave him with the whole bill! Granted I probably didn’t have to go out the bathroom window, but we were seated right by the window at the front of the restaurant, I was scared he’d see me.”
“Good thing I don’t like feet then,” Derek says nonchalantly, “hands, maybe.”
“Oh yeah? Like these big guys?” Stiles jokes holding up his hands.
“You have long fingers,” Derek notes looking at where Stiles is holding up his hands.
And whoa, the first thing Stiles thinks about is certainly not what he could be doing with those long fingers. Nope, not at all. Except, he could totally picture Derek on his back with Stiles nestled in between watching as he opens Derek up, yielding his body to him.
Stiles clears his throat while also trying to clear away those thoughts but he’s suddenly feeling very hot in his sleep pants and t-shirt.
“I can’t be the first person to have ever told you that.”
“No,” Stiles admits, ‘but you’re the first person who has said that and I want to fuck your ass with my fingers until you’re grinding down on them,’ Stiles doesn’t, thankfully, add on.
“Well then.”
“Did you mean it, at the bar that first night?” Stiles blurts out, and where the hell did that come from?
“Mean what?” and Stiles can’t tell if Derek is baiting him or he genuinely is asking.
“When you asked if I was offering? When I said it must get incestuous in this village, sex wise.”
“You’re asking me, if I was serious about asking you if you were offering?” Derek asks raising an eyebrow.
“Well when you put it like that,” Stiles huffs, “I just meant, am I way off base here? Am I going to embarrass myself if I try something? I don’t normally make the first move, like ever.”
Derek shrugs but he’s smiling which settles Stiles a little.
“Oh God,” Stiles groans, “you’re really going to make me do it.”
Stiles closes his eyes, rubbing them with his hands and from one minute to the next he’s turning on the bed and grabbing Derek’s face with his and crushing his mouth against Derek’s. He digs his nails into the nape of Derek’s neck his thumb pressing at Derek’s throat that would otherwise hurt anyone else, but a werewolf. Derek doesn’t seem to mind as he groans into Stiles’ mouth his hand moving to Stiles’ hip as Stiles straddles Derek.
“How long?” Stiles gasps into Derek’s mouth, nibbling at his bottom lip.
“When you came over for dinner,” Derek rumbles bringing Stiles hips down to grind against Derek’s clothed cock. They rut against each other, getting into a rhythm that’s just too good, but needs far less clothes between then. Stiles grabs the hair at the nape of Derek’s neck, bringing his head back as he runs his mouth along Derek’s jaw and neck. He kisses his way down, not wanting to leave marks but just have the opportunity to run his mouth anywhere on Derek that he can get to.
Derek abruptly stops their grinding and Stiles makes a noise of protest, unlatching from Derek’s neck to lean back to see Derek.
“What?”
“How long for you?” Derek asks, his firm grip not letting Stiles grind down anymore, and it’s frustrating for the both of them, “I know it wasn’t when we first met, or even as long as it was for me.”
“I - last night?” Stiles winces.
“Last night,” Derek repeats man-handing Stiles off of his lap, “so what is this, trying to get in one last fuck before heading off into a war? Why didn’t you just leave when you had the chance then?” Derek gets up off the bed, standing awkwardly at the side of the bed like he doesn’t know where to go or what to do.
“That’s not it,” Stiles sighs, “and I resent you’d think that of me. I mean I was always sexually attracted to you because look at you! That 8 o’clock stubble is unreal and unbelievably sexy but last night when you and Laura were talking when you thought I was unconscious - it was a side of you that wasn’t guarded or gruff, it was real, it was you the full you. That’s when I knew. That’s why I wanted to stay.”
Derek sighs crossing his arms like he’s trying to think.
“I didn’t think anything of it before because I didn’t want to be some conquest for you,” Stiles admits.
“I feel the same,” Derek admits.
“Well then, now that we’ve got all the feelings out of the way…” Stiles trails off waving towards his body and Derek’s.
Derek rolls his eyes but Stiles jumps up on his knees, knee-walking towards Derek on the bed. Derek grabs hold of a chunk of Stiles t-shirt bringing him the last few inches towards him, as he leans down and kisses Stiles. He opens his mouth up slowly, as he lets his hand slip down the front of Stiles sleep pants.
They’re just getting into the groove of things, Stile starting to lean back so he can lie down on the bed when there’s a loud boom, something like an explosion and the ground shaking. They pull apart both looking startled. Stiles is about to ask what’s happened when Derek speaks.
“There’s been an explosion - they blew something up in the village square.”
A few seconds later, confirming Derek’s words Stiles can hear screams from outside.
Looks like the war has begun.