DEREK/STILES AND DYLAN/TYLER H POST!

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Previous prompting posts: round one, round one favorites, round two, round two recs and favorites, round three, spoilery prompt post, the other pairings post, and the gen and pack fic post.

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Fill: A Warm, Dark Place (Part 2)

[anonymous]

Stiles complained as Derek carried his limp form the entire way back through town, into the woods, and finally up the stairs to Derek's old room. As soon as he walked through the empty doorframe, Stiles groaned, "Dude, it really does reek in here."

"Would you quit your complaining already? Werewolves smell. That's part of our thing."

He unloaded Stiles onto the old mattress where he slept, and Stiles wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, your bed… it's ten times worse. It smells like a kennel. When's the last time you washed your sheets? Don't answer that."

Derek laughed and pressed a pillow on Stiles's nose in punishment. "Have some more. You know you love it." When he took the pillow away a moment later, Stiles looked a little dazed, his pupils large and dilated, his mouth hanging open in that goofy way that always made Derek want to squeeze him. Stiles sucked in air and exhaled, the flush gradually leaving his cheeks. "Dude…" he gasped.

Derek was surprised by how breathless the kid got so easily. A few seconds smothered by a pillow and he was already out of air, when Derek had been the one who'd hauled him over his shoulder across town without even breaking a sweat. "We need to get you to exercise more," he teased gruffly. "Can you move yet?"

Stiles's face twisted with effort before going slack, defeated. "No," he admitted, the kanima's poison still strong in his blood. He looked so helpless that waves of possessiveness and anger alternately rolled through Derek, and he felt the familiar knife-like pain as the claws began to come out of his fingertips. He paced the room as he attempted to regain self-control.

From where he was splayed on the mattress, Stiles's eyes followed Derek. "So… you got a TV in here or something? Because let's face it, being completely unable to move is not exactly the most exciting thing I can think of."

"No electricity."

"So you're my sole entertainment for the evening? No wonder we usually hang out at my place. And I'm going to get cold."

"Are you cold now?" he asked, knowing the answer. The room was already warm with Derek's heat.

"No, but I will be."

"I'll keep us warm." He paused, letting his voice drop. "You just worry about pleasing me."

"Ha ha, yeah. I sort of like to be romanced in more luxurious environs. How long do we have to stay here?"

"Until I'm sure the kanima won't bother you again," Derek said, lowering himself next to Stiles and gently pushing him to the side.

"And that will be… how long exactly?"

"Not sure," he said, becoming distracted by the smoothness of the skin on his boy's face.

"What about school?" Stiles's face was getting all twitchy, as if frustrated that he couldn't express himself with his hands the way he usually did.

School was the furthest thing from Derek's mind. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Stiles still sat in a classroom everyday. Derek tried not to laugh as he imagined Stiles tormenting the teachers with a flood of questions. "You can forget about school. That's the most dangerous place you could be."

"So I'm trapped here. In a cold, dark place? Without the Internet?"

"Not cold." Derek drew a line between Stiles's mole and a freckle.

"Unable to leave?"

"Unable to leave," Derek murmured over him.

"At the mercy of a scary huge werewolf."

"With nothing you can do about it." Derek leaned in and pressed a finger to Stiles's nose and growled.