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.
This meme is closed. Please see tnw_kinkmeme for your Teen Wolf kink needs.
These posts will remain open to preserve the fic contained within.
Light format?
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.
This meme is closed. Please see tnw_kinkmeme for your Teen Wolf kink needs.
These posts will remain open to preserve the fic contained within.
“Uhhh,” Stiles tried, but didn’t finish.
Derek slowly paced his breathing, knowing that Stiles would instinctively match it, and within a few minutes Stiles had relaxed back into him. When he leaned his head back into the curve of Derek’s neck and the overwhelming sense of home came over Derek, he felt himself shaking a little. It kind of scared the hell out of him at first, especially since it’d been so long since he’d gotten this feeling. Fingers digging into soft flesh, Derek starting closing in tighter on Stiles like one might brace for a blow. He tucked his nose into the crook of Stiles’ neck and just breathed. That smell, directly from the source, was possibly the most satisfying and calming thing he’d been able to indulge in since losing his sister. The part that really tied it together was the patient, completely nonjudgmental vibe of understanding that Stiles exuded.
Then Stiles spoke, soft and a little hesitant. “I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, man, but I know that, if it has anything to do with what we talked about before, it’s probably really fucking scary to be going through it. When I lost my mom, I felt like it’d be a ton easier to blame someone. Then her death could mean something, you know? It couldn’t just be that she got sick and life’s a bitch. At least if I blamed it on doctors who didn’t see the signs sooner or God for doing this to our whole family, then maybe I’d have something productive to do with my feelings, or whatever. Sometimes that sort of thinking has a tendency to bite you in the ass, though.”
Derek sighed out a breath against Stiles’ neck and got a little shiver in response.
“Letting go of anger is really freaking hard, especially when you feel like it’s the one fire keeping you moving,” Stiles continued. “But when you have some time and you feel a little more equipped to handle life again, you gotta let that go. Otherwise it’ll eat you up. I’m not saying you need to stop being angry right now, because I don’t think it’s a good idea to rush things like that. But maybe it’s not such a good idea to keep stoking the flames. Let it die out when it’s time, you know?”
Derek wished he had it that easy, wished that the anger wasn’t his anchor so he could let it go just like that. He wanted to say as much to Stiles, but it was a moot point by now. Derek would rather risk his emotional state than possibly the livelihood of others. Better to control the wolf and hold onto the anger than let that bitterness go and be unleashed.
It was times like this that Derek wished Stiles knew how much the kid asked of him.
It was then that Derek felt the full moon’s effect simmering in the pit of his stomach. He was hit with a normal bout of lightheadedness that had him closing his eyes and slowing down his breathing. That, of course, only served to hit him with another dose of Stiles’ scent like he was surrounded by it. The combination of fabric softener, Dial, and a natural musky boy aroma was what he kept his mind on for a few moments while he centered himself. God, it was nice. And having a warm body in his arms helped, too.
There was at least a small advantage to being born a werewolf rather than turned, and it was only that the full moons were a bit easier to handle. Granted, it still made him practically want to tear someone’s face off most of the time, but being cautious and controlled around the full moon had always been a thought in his mind. It felt natural to reign himself in. The only difference that night was the added anxiety at the frighteningly weak hold he had on his anger now.
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Naturally, it was at this most inopportune time that Stiles said, too sincerely to be contrite, “ You know, it wasn’t your fault.”
Claws sprang out of his hands in a flash, unexpected and alarming. Thankfully, they hadn’t pricked Stiles. He ground his teeth together and tried to will them back down to blunt, human fingernails.
But Stiles said it again, quieter this time but brimming with conviction. “It wasn’t your fault.”
The lightheadedness turned into a headache, and Derek wanted to strangle Stile if it meant getting him to shut the fuck up.
“None of it was your fault.”
Then Derek growled, not in annoyance or frustration like he sometimes did. This one had a real threat behind it. He growled like an animal ready to protect itself, feeling cornered and fearless for the sake of self-preservation. His canines were going sharp and he felt infuriatingly powerless to stop any of it.
“Derek,” Stiles said uneasily. Then he wiggled around in Derek’s grip, still tight and unyielding, and met Derek’s eyes. There was undeniably fear there when Derek looked but also an almost foolhardy determination that was so characteristic of Stiles.
“Shut up,” Derek said, voice gone low and gravely. Stiles never listened, though.
“No one is holding you responsible for any of what happened except for yourself.”
“Shut up!” Derek bellowed, both hands coming up to clutch at his own head as the pain kept intensifying into a full-blown migraine. He felt his skin go hot and his heart beating wildly in his chest. He needed it all to stop; he needed to get himself back down before he hurt someone close to him. Again.
He pushed Stiles up and away from him, curling in on himself for a second while Stiles said, “Breathe! Derek, breathe!”
Fuck Stiles! As if he had any idea how to control this. As if he was in any place to take that control away from Derek and leave him with nothing to tether him on the full moon. If he ended up hurting Stiles, whether or not Stiles lived through this to regret it, Derek was going to have to live with that guilt. It was all too much.
Then, just as Derek could feel himself thrumming like he was being shot through with electricity, Stiles grabbed the back of his neck and brought him in close. The smell hit him again with a new edge of desperation.
“I’m sorry,” Stiles was saying over and over, arms reaching to wrap around Derek’s neck. “I shouldn’t have pushed, and I’m so sorry.”
Derek grabbed the back of Stiles’ shirt and yanked him far enough away to glare with blazing red eyes. It was meant to be a warning, maybe even a threat. If Stiles only knew how much danger he was in, then maybe he’d get out and Derek could deal with this without any harm done. However, the eyes that stared back shut Derek down so fast he was practically breathless.
Stiles was crying. Tears welled up and spilled over in big, heavy droplets, and Stiles’ whole face had gone pink and tight.
Something dropped in Derek’s chest and sank in his stomach, as if that coal of anger had finally been let go and was fizzling out, leaving him with little more than an empty feeling that he urgently wanted to fill.
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When they parted, Derek pressed their foreheads together and listened to Stiles’ erratic heartbeat.
“Stiles,” he murmured. “You know it wasn’t your fault either.”
That was when Stiles broke down. He stopped breathing for just a second, trying to hold it all in, and then the sobs were coming out in heavy, painful heaves. Each sound came out wrecked and raw like it’d been ripped out of him. He clutched at Derek gracelessly and didn’t let go when he got a hold. It was as if the kid had never in his life allowed himself to let any of it out. Derek could relate.
And in that moment, sharing the excruciating pain of trying to let go of so much self-hatred, Derek felt more vulnerable and human than he ever had in his entire life. He sat there holding Stiles in his arms while the boy cried, both of them shaking. And into the faded material of Stiles’ t-shirt, Derek let himself shed tears that he’d always thought would break him. Maybe Stiles noticed, maybe not. Derek wasn’t sure, but he didn’t much care. He needed this. They needed this.
Breath stuttering and hiccupping, Stiles pulled back for a moment and wiped his nose before giving a badly timed, self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry, I’m getting gross.”
Derek waited while Stiles blew his nose and splashed water on his face in the bathroom, his body itching to be close to Stiles again. When Stiles finally came back, he settled in next to Derek without being told. They both stretched out along the bed, Derek wrapping and arm around Stiles’ waist and dragging them close together.
This was risky and Derek knew it. Memories were good anchors, as were motivating feelings like anger or hope. However, an anchor based on care and affection was practically begging to get ruined. Derek knew all this, and yet he couldn’t seem to help it. As he watched Stiles’ eyes close and his breathing go deep and even, he found himself drifting off with him and he wasn’t afraid.
It was worth it, even for a season. Though, he hoped it would be more than that.
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