How Scared I Was Part Three: "Time Makes You Bolder"
Series: How Scared I Was
Chapter Title: Time Makes You Bolder
Part: 3/5
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairings: Derek/Stiles; Allison Argent/Scott McCall; Jackson Whittemore/Lydia Martin; Sheriff Stilinski; Danny.
Rating: hard R
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: His blanket fort lasted three days.
Warnings: un-betaed. Creepiness.
Previous
His blanket fort lasted three days. He camped out under there and scared himself silly (and awake) with ghost stories and a marathon of Ghost Adventures. He knew, of course, that the majority of what he'd read and watched was bogus, but it didn't stop him from ensconcing himself in his Fortress of Somewhat-Solitude. It was after those three days that Derek took his blanket fort down while he was in the shower. To be fair, it was the first day back to school, so the use of his fort would be limited to whatever time he spent at Derek's during the week-it didn't stop him from pouting at Derek for the rest of the morning.
School was a drag, as it always was. Having to pay attention to teachers that didn't make their courses very interesting at all made even the normally hyperactive Stiles about to snore the day away. Maybe it was just being back from the recent vacation that did it, but nothing held his interest, not until Lacrosse practice. While Scott, Jackson and he were running laps (and perhaps laps around the other players while they were at it), Stiles talked about the awkward points of Thanksgiving with his family. Jackson pointed out in a tone that Stiles didn't much care for that at least he didn't have Thanksgiving with the Hale family-could they imagine what sort of insanity would happen with them? Begrudgingly, Stiles had to admit that he was right. Scott chimed in that he had a potentially more awkward Thanksgiving with his Mom (who knew nothing of the wolves and hunters) pitched in with the Argents. Luckily everyone had put away the tension for the feast and he had minimal meaningful looks cast at him from Chris Argent.
They were doing drills when Stiles finally brought up the scary haunted-ness of the old Hale house. Jackson brushed it off with a joke-he had eaten some bad turkey or maybe they had laced his food with catnip and he had hallucinated the whole event. Stiles just cast a look to Scott. Danny gave them odd looks as they kept chatting like they were sitting around having a laugh when everyone else was drenched with sweat and breathing heavily. After that they tried to act like normal teenage boys playing a rough and tumble sport. By the end of practice Stiles had forgotten about the topic completely. It was only when they met the girls by the cars that it was brought up again.
“Are you sure that's what happened?” Lydia was twirling her hair around her finger, chewing on a piece of gum and looking at him with something that looked like concern. Or maybe she was just constipated. He really couldn't tell.
“Yeah, I'm sure. How could I miss all the freaky shit that went down?” He didn't really want to have to remind himself that this was the first they'd heard of it-the first incident with the suspension bondage and the cold hand all up in his personal space had been omitted from his 'findings'. Mostly because he didn't want to even try to explain that one. His gibbering during that event made him seem very unmanly and he couldn't have that. Lydia, meanwhile, rolled her eyes and leaned back against Jackson's Porsche.
“Did Derek see this all happen?” That was Jackson, eyebrows pinching together, but his expression was more curious than anything. Stiles was pretty sure he remembered hearing that Jackson was an adrenaline junky who loved paranormal weirdness in his movies. Danny was ambling toward the group from across the parking lot. Jackson had said something about giving him a ride home; it also meant their conversation was just about over.
“Of course he did. He was standing right next to me, looking just as freaked out, I might add.” Stiles had a sour note in his tone. It was all because they were hesitant to believe him that the place was haunted in a bad way-shouldn't they follow him just as blindly as they followed Derek? Mentally he snorted and shook himself down off of his imagined pedestal. Scott gave him a reproachful look and bumped shoulders with him.
“Well, it's not like we're going back there tonight, so relax.”
Danny was just reaching them now, “Going back where?”
The pack shifted into neutral mode. It wasn't that Danny wasn't welcome, he just wasn't officially part of the pack. Yet. If Stiles had any say, he'd be in regardless of him being a regular human who hadn't found out about the wolves by himself. He was pretty sure Jackson was on his side too, but one could never tell with the jock. He'd be the type to be opposed just because it would keep Danny safe. Jackson clapped his friend on the shoulder and grinned easily. “That place we're fixing up. Stiles is being a girl about it being haunted.”
He teased Stiles, throwing a playful look in his direction. Half of Stiles wanted to pounce and initiate a wrestling match, the other wanted to be irrationally angry over the teasing tone. He settled for sulking and letting Scott drag him off so they could go home.
{break}
Usually, when Stiles was spending the night at his childhood home and not Derek's rent-a-house, he was home alone for quite a while. It didn't bother him-in fact it gave him time to do household chores, check on what kind of snacks his Dad was hiding around the house and do his homework in relative peace. Today his Dad's Cruiser was parked in the driveway, smelling of curly fries and flat soda. Stiles hoisted his book bag over his shoulder and set off up the walk with every intention of straightening out his Dad's eating habits. He would pack him lunches if he had to.
As he kicked off his shoes, he called out, “Dad, don't think I don't know that you're eating lunch at In'N'Out again.”
“And how would you know, it's not as if you're ever here anymore.” His Dad's voice came from the kitchen doorway, startling him and making him look up sharply. He blinked as a frown started to settle on his lips. His Dad was leaning against the door frame, looking weary as he rested a hand on his hip.
“You didn't seem to have a problem with it before.” Stiles was a little hesitant to talk about this-it was awkward, talking with his Dad about Derek. Mostly because Stiles was still scared to death that his Dad was going to decide that Derek was a bad guy after all and shoot him. After all, Derek had been arrested a couple of different times. His Dad shook his head, looking down at the floor between them. He was exhausted. Stiles dropped his bag on the floor and stepped toward him. “Want me to make dinner? You can sit on the couch and watch COPS reruns.”
He was attempting to be sensitive, to give his old man a break. The Sheriff glanced up, measuring his son with his eyes before accepting with a nod. Without another word he departed for the living room. Stiles abandoned his bag by his shoes in favor of making his Dad feel better.
After Stiles had sank into the couch cushions next to his Dad, a plate of salad and cheesy bake ravioli in hand and another placed in front of the Sheriff, quiet reigned. Mostly it was because COPS was up loud enough that the sirens sounded like they could possibly be real and right outside their windows, but it was also because they were busy stuffing their faces. Stiles had finished his ravioli and was picking at the salad when his Dad finally turned the TV down and sat back, pushing his empty plate away from him.
“How is Derek, anyway?” Obviously he was trying not to be pushy or nosy or whatever, but Stiles saw right through him. He wasn't really asking how the alpha werewolf was, he was asking if there was any reason why he should shoot him in the kneecaps. Stiles pushed a tomato off to the side and stabbed at an onion.
“Fine, as usual. We're still working on the old Hale house.” Stiles didn't look up from his plate at all, just pushed things around and speared them at random.
“Going back there tonight?” His Dad didn't want him to go. Stiles shook his head.
“Tomorrow night we are, though.” It seemed to make his Dad relax a little.
“How's that going, anyway?”
“I haven't hit myself with a hammer yet, if that's what you're asking.” Stiles' eyes flicked up to catch his Dad's expression, a teasing smile sneaking up on his face.
“What about other people?” His Dad's face was alive with mischief.
“Only when Scott's not paying attention.” Stiles smirked as his Dad let out a chuckle. They fell quiet for a few minutes and Stiles finished his salad. He stacked his plate with his Dad's and left them on the table, flopping back onto the couch with a huff. It was a short while before the Sheriff said anything. When he did he was speaking like he was picking his words carefully.
“You don't have to, you know, but it would be nice to see you around a little more.”
It hit Stiles then, and he was flabbergasted. His Dad missed him-he was lonely. Stiles had almost forgotten that his Dad might have a hard time letting him go. Without... without his Mom around, the house was empty. Stiles studied his Dad's face, trying to find the words with which to respond. When he did, his voice was thin. “I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't know. I didn't think...”
He just nodded in response to Stiles' answer, still not looking at him. His mouth was set in a grim line. The Sheriff sighed and straightened up, running a hand over his face as he did so. “Well, I'd better get started on the dishes. You probably have homework to do, huh?”
He clapped his hand down on Stiles' knee and forced a strained smile. Stiles did his homework at the kitchen table while his Dad washed the dishes. After they were both finished they curled up on the couch with some popcorn and put some of the older Boston Legal on.
{break}
The next day Stiles was too busy trying to catch up on reading of lore (Derek had some books on werewolves that he'd been gathering and Stiles was slowly making his way through them) between classes to even think about the fact that they were all going back to that freak show of a house. It wasn't until Stiles looked up from the book he was reading and out of the window of Jackson's Porsche that it all came rushing back to him. A chill raced down his spine and made his shoulders tremble for a moment. He knew that Jackson could hear his heart speed up, but he hoped he didn't comment on it. Stiles was still staring out the window at the house when they pulled to a stop. Jackson clapped his hand on Stiles' thigh and leaned in to nearly growl in his ear.
“You've got to stop doing that.” Jackson's breath was warm by his ear and did well enough to set Stiles at ease, but it didn't mean he was any less freaked out about going back in that house again. Jackson groaned and pushed away from him, opening up the door and calling back over his shoulder as Allison drove up with Scott and Lydia in the car. “Come on, Stiles, let's get this over with.”
Jackson had been working on his control issues, especially when it came to Stiles. They'd still been having a few problems over the months-Stiles would start freaking out over something and Jackson would get a stiffy. At first Jackson hadn't had much control and pawed at him before running as far away as he could, as fast as he could with Derek hot on his heels, but it seemed that Jackson was at least keeping his hands to himself now. Stiles was grateful.
He opened the door and climbed out, letting the lore book fall back onto the passenger seat. He joined the others at Allison's trunk, pulling out his tool belt and strapping it on, grabbing whatever items needed to be brought in. Derek was already inside, working on taking the windows out and sweeping up the broken glass. He had already taken his shirt off and a thin sheen of sweat graced his skin. Stiles put down the boxes of nails he had been carrying in and crossed the floor to wrap his arms around his boyfriend. Stiles didn't mind the sweat as his own shirt started soaking it up, he just leaned in and kissed the corner of Derek's mouth.
“Have you been here long?” Stiles was looking at the progress made, but he was also concerned about his well-being. Staying in a haunted house for very long couldn't be healthy. Derek pulled away to pick up a water bottle and take a long drink before answering.
“A few hours.” Derek could tell that Stiles was worried, “I'm fine, Stiles.”
Scott clanked down a pile of lumber across the floor and Allison was trying not to look at Derek and Stiles. Lydia was pulling a sweatshirt on and sweeping her hair back into a ponytail and Jackson was his usual asshole self. “He's been panicking about this place being haunted.”
Derek tried not to smirk where Stiles could see it, but Stiles knew he was doing it anyway. Stiles glared in Jackson's direction. He was seriously contemplating throwing a hammer at him. Or maybe shooting the nail gun in his direction. Derek swooped in just when he was considering going through with his murderous thoughts and left a lingering kiss on his lips. Immediately he was distracted. “Don't worry about stuff like that. They can't hurt you.”
Stiles was a bit taken aback by the comment, made low and huffed into his ear as a soothing gesture. He sort of wanted to call him on not even knowing that ghosts existed until Thanksgiving, but he decided not to for now. Stiles rolled his shoulders and drifted back to Scott, bumping shoulders with him as they all sorted out where everyone was going. Jackson was going to be working on tearing down the walls that used to be a bedroom with Scott; Lydia was going to be upstairs tearing old, water damaged cabinets out of what used to be the bathroom; Derek was continuing window work and Allison and he were going to be tearing the banisters up and getting rid of them. There was plenty of banging around, but all in all it was monotonous work. Lydia, Allison and he were donning sweatshirts in case the overcast sky decided to let loose the rain while the wolves were more interested in the tearing apart of walls and windows.
All in all, it was productive. After a couple hours of work, Scott was running around and getting everyone's orders for dinner-apparently Derek was giving he and Allison money to go get dinner from the nearest Subway. Scott was just getting Lydia's order when Derek blew up at Jackson. “Where the hell did you put it, then?!”
It was loud enough that everyone had stopped what they were doing and looked over at the two. Stiles' feet were already taking him a couple of steps in their direction. Jackson looked terrified, pale-faced and the usual hard-set to his shoulders was trembling slightly. Lydia's lips were making an 'O', he hand going to cover her mouth and her eyes wide as she took in what was happening. Derek could be goddamned intimidating when he wanted to be. Even Stiles stayed the hell away. Scott was glancing from the confrontation to Stiles and Allison was looking between the confrontation and Scott. Jackson's voice was soft enough that his answer got lost in the empty space between everyone. Derek sure as hell heard it though. “You were the last one who had it, Jackson. Things don't just disappear. Find it.”
Although it seemed like Derek's initial anger had worn thin, Stiles still wanted to quell it completely. He quietly approached, even though Derek was just pushing his hand through his hair and hanging his head. Stiles stopped a few feet away and reached out, grasping Derek's shoulder. Sometimes the guy had a shorter fuse than any of them. It was these times that Stiles had to appreciate just how much stress he was under. Derek leaned into the touch and peered at him. Stiles was calm and tried to be easy-going about it. “Hey, you alright?”
Derek nodded, but Stiles knew he wasn't being completely honest. He didn't push-he needed space right now. Especially in front of the pack. He knew that if they were in private, Derek would give him no choice in the matter: they would be cuddling. Stiles offered a smile and released him as he turned away, getting back to work. Jackson ended up finding the tool that Derek had lost his temper over down by the door that led to the tunnels. Stiles felt as if his fur was raising up. He offered to go with Allison instead of Scott to get dinner, and Scott let him go.
They had returned, eaten and gone back to work for a couple more hours (until the sun went down) when it happened. Lydia was back up in that bathroom, this time she was getting rid of the cracked tiles that had once made up the shower walls and floor, everyone else was working downstairs. Derek was going over with everyone how he wanted to tear up the porch next and get that fixed up when Lydia's shrill scream rang out. Stiles jumped a mile high, tail puffed up and claws shinking out. Allison gasped and reached for Scott at the same time that Jackson dropped the lumber he'd been shifting to the side and sprang into action. Scott looked toward the stairs while Derek bellowed Lydia's name, eyes flashing red as if in preparation to shift. Lydia practically flew down the stairs and into Jackson's arms, tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't stop talking-mostly she was saying 'oh my god' over and over again at break-neck speed.
She calmed down enough in a few moments of hiding her face in Jackson's chest to peek out and into Derek's concerned face. Her voice was raw, wavering slightly what with her emotions running high. “She was staring at me.”
“Who? Who was she?” Derek asked, his voice soft and soothing. Had Stiles not been flipping shit, he might have admired the way that Derek was handling it, but as it was Stiles was edging closer to Derek and trying to not look like he was using him as a shield against the scary ghosties. Stiles only had enough of himself left present to look at Lydia with wide eyes and ask even softer than Derek.
“What did she look like?” By now Stiles' fingers were hooked in Derek's belt loops and Scott and Allison were edging closer to the group. Lydia didn't get the chance to answer, though, as Allison stifled another gasp and everyone's head jerked up to look toward the door that led down to the tunnels.
“Get.... out...” The words were growled out-it almost sounded like when the wolves got angry with each other. But it wasn't just the words that chilled Stiles to the bone, it was the hulking form that looked to be a massive shadow. There was the drag of claws over what remained of the wall, deep gouges appearing in a set of five, trailing toward the group of six.
And then, just like that, it disappeared.
{break}
It probably wasn't the best reaction, but it made Derek feel in control and it made Stiles feel safe. The leather pulled at the skin on his neck, tugging in all the right ways. Stiles pulled against the hold that Derek had on the collar, feeling that small bite-a nip really-on his shoulder as reprimand. It was half an hour after they had all seen the apparition at the old Hale house. They had disbanded immediately and gotten the hell out of there. Derek hadn't even given Stiles a choice, he'd dragged him to the car and driven him straight to his rented house. Not that Stiles was complaining, because he wasn't.
Derek's index finger was hitched through the single D-ring on the collar, holding him in place. Straddling Derek, mouths hot and slick against each other, Stiles was willing to just let go of everything that had happened and let this wash over him. Derek seemed to be keen on making him forget, so it was working out quite well.
Stiles' hand worked them both, pumping up and down their shafts, dragging the pad of his thumb over the slits. His lips were parted, eyes half-lidded with lust, he watched Derek's expression changing as he got closer to the climax. He couldn't help himself, as Derek held his gaze and pulled him in for another kiss-he keened and rocked his hips, sliding their cocks together, the lube and pre-cum making it sticky, but slippery. Derek pulled his mouth away, but only far enough to take a deep breath and dive back in to mouth at Stiles' jawline. The heat of his mouth left a trail of cooling spit on his skin. It pulled a whimper from Stiles, his hand still jerking them off between their bodies.
Derek's free hand reached around to grab a handful of his ass, squeezing before just running his palm over the pale skin there. Stiles moaned, trying to still his rocking hips. Derek's teeth closed on his earlobe, yanking once and releasing it, mouth wandering hotly down his neck. Derek clamped down on a spot near his collarbone and sucked-just the perfect spot to send shivers racing up and down his spine. The werewolf groaned, not able to stop himself from thrusting up into Stiles' hand. Stiles whined in response, ducking his head and their mouths met again. Appreciative sounds were lost between them as they rocked together, bringing each other right to the edge.
Stiles knew when to do it, he was a quick learner, so when Derek's jaw went slack he added an extra twist to his wrist on the upstroke and sent him, trembling, into his climax. The hot cum splashed over his hand, his chest and dripped down onto Derek's chest. The feel of it on his skin and a few more tugs pulled him over too.
For a few moments afterward, Derek just breathed heavily against his skin, still holding him in place as they caught their breath. Derek let him go then and reached for the nearest bit of cloth to wipe up the mess with. Stiles thumped onto his back on the bed beside him, eyes closing as Derek worked on cleaning them both up. As he said before: he didn't think this was the best response, but it made them both feel better afterward.
Next
Chapter Title: Time Makes You Bolder
Part: 3/5
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairings: Derek/Stiles; Allison Argent/Scott McCall; Jackson Whittemore/Lydia Martin; Sheriff Stilinski; Danny.
Rating: hard R
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: His blanket fort lasted three days.
Warnings: un-betaed. Creepiness.
Previous
His blanket fort lasted three days. He camped out under there and scared himself silly (and awake) with ghost stories and a marathon of Ghost Adventures. He knew, of course, that the majority of what he'd read and watched was bogus, but it didn't stop him from ensconcing himself in his Fortress of Somewhat-Solitude. It was after those three days that Derek took his blanket fort down while he was in the shower. To be fair, it was the first day back to school, so the use of his fort would be limited to whatever time he spent at Derek's during the week-it didn't stop him from pouting at Derek for the rest of the morning.
School was a drag, as it always was. Having to pay attention to teachers that didn't make their courses very interesting at all made even the normally hyperactive Stiles about to snore the day away. Maybe it was just being back from the recent vacation that did it, but nothing held his interest, not until Lacrosse practice. While Scott, Jackson and he were running laps (and perhaps laps around the other players while they were at it), Stiles talked about the awkward points of Thanksgiving with his family. Jackson pointed out in a tone that Stiles didn't much care for that at least he didn't have Thanksgiving with the Hale family-could they imagine what sort of insanity would happen with them? Begrudgingly, Stiles had to admit that he was right. Scott chimed in that he had a potentially more awkward Thanksgiving with his Mom (who knew nothing of the wolves and hunters) pitched in with the Argents. Luckily everyone had put away the tension for the feast and he had minimal meaningful looks cast at him from Chris Argent.
They were doing drills when Stiles finally brought up the scary haunted-ness of the old Hale house. Jackson brushed it off with a joke-he had eaten some bad turkey or maybe they had laced his food with catnip and he had hallucinated the whole event. Stiles just cast a look to Scott. Danny gave them odd looks as they kept chatting like they were sitting around having a laugh when everyone else was drenched with sweat and breathing heavily. After that they tried to act like normal teenage boys playing a rough and tumble sport. By the end of practice Stiles had forgotten about the topic completely. It was only when they met the girls by the cars that it was brought up again.
“Are you sure that's what happened?” Lydia was twirling her hair around her finger, chewing on a piece of gum and looking at him with something that looked like concern. Or maybe she was just constipated. He really couldn't tell.
“Yeah, I'm sure. How could I miss all the freaky shit that went down?” He didn't really want to have to remind himself that this was the first they'd heard of it-the first incident with the suspension bondage and the cold hand all up in his personal space had been omitted from his 'findings'. Mostly because he didn't want to even try to explain that one. His gibbering during that event made him seem very unmanly and he couldn't have that. Lydia, meanwhile, rolled her eyes and leaned back against Jackson's Porsche.
“Did Derek see this all happen?” That was Jackson, eyebrows pinching together, but his expression was more curious than anything. Stiles was pretty sure he remembered hearing that Jackson was an adrenaline junky who loved paranormal weirdness in his movies. Danny was ambling toward the group from across the parking lot. Jackson had said something about giving him a ride home; it also meant their conversation was just about over.
“Of course he did. He was standing right next to me, looking just as freaked out, I might add.” Stiles had a sour note in his tone. It was all because they were hesitant to believe him that the place was haunted in a bad way-shouldn't they follow him just as blindly as they followed Derek? Mentally he snorted and shook himself down off of his imagined pedestal. Scott gave him a reproachful look and bumped shoulders with him.
“Well, it's not like we're going back there tonight, so relax.”
Danny was just reaching them now, “Going back where?”
The pack shifted into neutral mode. It wasn't that Danny wasn't welcome, he just wasn't officially part of the pack. Yet. If Stiles had any say, he'd be in regardless of him being a regular human who hadn't found out about the wolves by himself. He was pretty sure Jackson was on his side too, but one could never tell with the jock. He'd be the type to be opposed just because it would keep Danny safe. Jackson clapped his friend on the shoulder and grinned easily. “That place we're fixing up. Stiles is being a girl about it being haunted.”
He teased Stiles, throwing a playful look in his direction. Half of Stiles wanted to pounce and initiate a wrestling match, the other wanted to be irrationally angry over the teasing tone. He settled for sulking and letting Scott drag him off so they could go home.
{break}
Usually, when Stiles was spending the night at his childhood home and not Derek's rent-a-house, he was home alone for quite a while. It didn't bother him-in fact it gave him time to do household chores, check on what kind of snacks his Dad was hiding around the house and do his homework in relative peace. Today his Dad's Cruiser was parked in the driveway, smelling of curly fries and flat soda. Stiles hoisted his book bag over his shoulder and set off up the walk with every intention of straightening out his Dad's eating habits. He would pack him lunches if he had to.
As he kicked off his shoes, he called out, “Dad, don't think I don't know that you're eating lunch at In'N'Out again.”
“And how would you know, it's not as if you're ever here anymore.” His Dad's voice came from the kitchen doorway, startling him and making him look up sharply. He blinked as a frown started to settle on his lips. His Dad was leaning against the door frame, looking weary as he rested a hand on his hip.
“You didn't seem to have a problem with it before.” Stiles was a little hesitant to talk about this-it was awkward, talking with his Dad about Derek. Mostly because Stiles was still scared to death that his Dad was going to decide that Derek was a bad guy after all and shoot him. After all, Derek had been arrested a couple of different times. His Dad shook his head, looking down at the floor between them. He was exhausted. Stiles dropped his bag on the floor and stepped toward him. “Want me to make dinner? You can sit on the couch and watch COPS reruns.”
He was attempting to be sensitive, to give his old man a break. The Sheriff glanced up, measuring his son with his eyes before accepting with a nod. Without another word he departed for the living room. Stiles abandoned his bag by his shoes in favor of making his Dad feel better.
After Stiles had sank into the couch cushions next to his Dad, a plate of salad and cheesy bake ravioli in hand and another placed in front of the Sheriff, quiet reigned. Mostly it was because COPS was up loud enough that the sirens sounded like they could possibly be real and right outside their windows, but it was also because they were busy stuffing their faces. Stiles had finished his ravioli and was picking at the salad when his Dad finally turned the TV down and sat back, pushing his empty plate away from him.
“How is Derek, anyway?” Obviously he was trying not to be pushy or nosy or whatever, but Stiles saw right through him. He wasn't really asking how the alpha werewolf was, he was asking if there was any reason why he should shoot him in the kneecaps. Stiles pushed a tomato off to the side and stabbed at an onion.
“Fine, as usual. We're still working on the old Hale house.” Stiles didn't look up from his plate at all, just pushed things around and speared them at random.
“Going back there tonight?” His Dad didn't want him to go. Stiles shook his head.
“Tomorrow night we are, though.” It seemed to make his Dad relax a little.
“How's that going, anyway?”
“I haven't hit myself with a hammer yet, if that's what you're asking.” Stiles' eyes flicked up to catch his Dad's expression, a teasing smile sneaking up on his face.
“What about other people?” His Dad's face was alive with mischief.
“Only when Scott's not paying attention.” Stiles smirked as his Dad let out a chuckle. They fell quiet for a few minutes and Stiles finished his salad. He stacked his plate with his Dad's and left them on the table, flopping back onto the couch with a huff. It was a short while before the Sheriff said anything. When he did he was speaking like he was picking his words carefully.
“You don't have to, you know, but it would be nice to see you around a little more.”
It hit Stiles then, and he was flabbergasted. His Dad missed him-he was lonely. Stiles had almost forgotten that his Dad might have a hard time letting him go. Without... without his Mom around, the house was empty. Stiles studied his Dad's face, trying to find the words with which to respond. When he did, his voice was thin. “I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't know. I didn't think...”
He just nodded in response to Stiles' answer, still not looking at him. His mouth was set in a grim line. The Sheriff sighed and straightened up, running a hand over his face as he did so. “Well, I'd better get started on the dishes. You probably have homework to do, huh?”
He clapped his hand down on Stiles' knee and forced a strained smile. Stiles did his homework at the kitchen table while his Dad washed the dishes. After they were both finished they curled up on the couch with some popcorn and put some of the older Boston Legal on.
{break}
The next day Stiles was too busy trying to catch up on reading of lore (Derek had some books on werewolves that he'd been gathering and Stiles was slowly making his way through them) between classes to even think about the fact that they were all going back to that freak show of a house. It wasn't until Stiles looked up from the book he was reading and out of the window of Jackson's Porsche that it all came rushing back to him. A chill raced down his spine and made his shoulders tremble for a moment. He knew that Jackson could hear his heart speed up, but he hoped he didn't comment on it. Stiles was still staring out the window at the house when they pulled to a stop. Jackson clapped his hand on Stiles' thigh and leaned in to nearly growl in his ear.
“You've got to stop doing that.” Jackson's breath was warm by his ear and did well enough to set Stiles at ease, but it didn't mean he was any less freaked out about going back in that house again. Jackson groaned and pushed away from him, opening up the door and calling back over his shoulder as Allison drove up with Scott and Lydia in the car. “Come on, Stiles, let's get this over with.”
Jackson had been working on his control issues, especially when it came to Stiles. They'd still been having a few problems over the months-Stiles would start freaking out over something and Jackson would get a stiffy. At first Jackson hadn't had much control and pawed at him before running as far away as he could, as fast as he could with Derek hot on his heels, but it seemed that Jackson was at least keeping his hands to himself now. Stiles was grateful.
He opened the door and climbed out, letting the lore book fall back onto the passenger seat. He joined the others at Allison's trunk, pulling out his tool belt and strapping it on, grabbing whatever items needed to be brought in. Derek was already inside, working on taking the windows out and sweeping up the broken glass. He had already taken his shirt off and a thin sheen of sweat graced his skin. Stiles put down the boxes of nails he had been carrying in and crossed the floor to wrap his arms around his boyfriend. Stiles didn't mind the sweat as his own shirt started soaking it up, he just leaned in and kissed the corner of Derek's mouth.
“Have you been here long?” Stiles was looking at the progress made, but he was also concerned about his well-being. Staying in a haunted house for very long couldn't be healthy. Derek pulled away to pick up a water bottle and take a long drink before answering.
“A few hours.” Derek could tell that Stiles was worried, “I'm fine, Stiles.”
Scott clanked down a pile of lumber across the floor and Allison was trying not to look at Derek and Stiles. Lydia was pulling a sweatshirt on and sweeping her hair back into a ponytail and Jackson was his usual asshole self. “He's been panicking about this place being haunted.”
Derek tried not to smirk where Stiles could see it, but Stiles knew he was doing it anyway. Stiles glared in Jackson's direction. He was seriously contemplating throwing a hammer at him. Or maybe shooting the nail gun in his direction. Derek swooped in just when he was considering going through with his murderous thoughts and left a lingering kiss on his lips. Immediately he was distracted. “Don't worry about stuff like that. They can't hurt you.”
Stiles was a bit taken aback by the comment, made low and huffed into his ear as a soothing gesture. He sort of wanted to call him on not even knowing that ghosts existed until Thanksgiving, but he decided not to for now. Stiles rolled his shoulders and drifted back to Scott, bumping shoulders with him as they all sorted out where everyone was going. Jackson was going to be working on tearing down the walls that used to be a bedroom with Scott; Lydia was going to be upstairs tearing old, water damaged cabinets out of what used to be the bathroom; Derek was continuing window work and Allison and he were going to be tearing the banisters up and getting rid of them. There was plenty of banging around, but all in all it was monotonous work. Lydia, Allison and he were donning sweatshirts in case the overcast sky decided to let loose the rain while the wolves were more interested in the tearing apart of walls and windows.
All in all, it was productive. After a couple hours of work, Scott was running around and getting everyone's orders for dinner-apparently Derek was giving he and Allison money to go get dinner from the nearest Subway. Scott was just getting Lydia's order when Derek blew up at Jackson. “Where the hell did you put it, then?!”
It was loud enough that everyone had stopped what they were doing and looked over at the two. Stiles' feet were already taking him a couple of steps in their direction. Jackson looked terrified, pale-faced and the usual hard-set to his shoulders was trembling slightly. Lydia's lips were making an 'O', he hand going to cover her mouth and her eyes wide as she took in what was happening. Derek could be goddamned intimidating when he wanted to be. Even Stiles stayed the hell away. Scott was glancing from the confrontation to Stiles and Allison was looking between the confrontation and Scott. Jackson's voice was soft enough that his answer got lost in the empty space between everyone. Derek sure as hell heard it though. “You were the last one who had it, Jackson. Things don't just disappear. Find it.”
Although it seemed like Derek's initial anger had worn thin, Stiles still wanted to quell it completely. He quietly approached, even though Derek was just pushing his hand through his hair and hanging his head. Stiles stopped a few feet away and reached out, grasping Derek's shoulder. Sometimes the guy had a shorter fuse than any of them. It was these times that Stiles had to appreciate just how much stress he was under. Derek leaned into the touch and peered at him. Stiles was calm and tried to be easy-going about it. “Hey, you alright?”
Derek nodded, but Stiles knew he wasn't being completely honest. He didn't push-he needed space right now. Especially in front of the pack. He knew that if they were in private, Derek would give him no choice in the matter: they would be cuddling. Stiles offered a smile and released him as he turned away, getting back to work. Jackson ended up finding the tool that Derek had lost his temper over down by the door that led to the tunnels. Stiles felt as if his fur was raising up. He offered to go with Allison instead of Scott to get dinner, and Scott let him go.
They had returned, eaten and gone back to work for a couple more hours (until the sun went down) when it happened. Lydia was back up in that bathroom, this time she was getting rid of the cracked tiles that had once made up the shower walls and floor, everyone else was working downstairs. Derek was going over with everyone how he wanted to tear up the porch next and get that fixed up when Lydia's shrill scream rang out. Stiles jumped a mile high, tail puffed up and claws shinking out. Allison gasped and reached for Scott at the same time that Jackson dropped the lumber he'd been shifting to the side and sprang into action. Scott looked toward the stairs while Derek bellowed Lydia's name, eyes flashing red as if in preparation to shift. Lydia practically flew down the stairs and into Jackson's arms, tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't stop talking-mostly she was saying 'oh my god' over and over again at break-neck speed.
She calmed down enough in a few moments of hiding her face in Jackson's chest to peek out and into Derek's concerned face. Her voice was raw, wavering slightly what with her emotions running high. “She was staring at me.”
“Who? Who was she?” Derek asked, his voice soft and soothing. Had Stiles not been flipping shit, he might have admired the way that Derek was handling it, but as it was Stiles was edging closer to Derek and trying to not look like he was using him as a shield against the scary ghosties. Stiles only had enough of himself left present to look at Lydia with wide eyes and ask even softer than Derek.
“What did she look like?” By now Stiles' fingers were hooked in Derek's belt loops and Scott and Allison were edging closer to the group. Lydia didn't get the chance to answer, though, as Allison stifled another gasp and everyone's head jerked up to look toward the door that led down to the tunnels.
“Get.... out...” The words were growled out-it almost sounded like when the wolves got angry with each other. But it wasn't just the words that chilled Stiles to the bone, it was the hulking form that looked to be a massive shadow. There was the drag of claws over what remained of the wall, deep gouges appearing in a set of five, trailing toward the group of six.
And then, just like that, it disappeared.
{break}
It probably wasn't the best reaction, but it made Derek feel in control and it made Stiles feel safe. The leather pulled at the skin on his neck, tugging in all the right ways. Stiles pulled against the hold that Derek had on the collar, feeling that small bite-a nip really-on his shoulder as reprimand. It was half an hour after they had all seen the apparition at the old Hale house. They had disbanded immediately and gotten the hell out of there. Derek hadn't even given Stiles a choice, he'd dragged him to the car and driven him straight to his rented house. Not that Stiles was complaining, because he wasn't.
Derek's index finger was hitched through the single D-ring on the collar, holding him in place. Straddling Derek, mouths hot and slick against each other, Stiles was willing to just let go of everything that had happened and let this wash over him. Derek seemed to be keen on making him forget, so it was working out quite well.
Stiles' hand worked them both, pumping up and down their shafts, dragging the pad of his thumb over the slits. His lips were parted, eyes half-lidded with lust, he watched Derek's expression changing as he got closer to the climax. He couldn't help himself, as Derek held his gaze and pulled him in for another kiss-he keened and rocked his hips, sliding their cocks together, the lube and pre-cum making it sticky, but slippery. Derek pulled his mouth away, but only far enough to take a deep breath and dive back in to mouth at Stiles' jawline. The heat of his mouth left a trail of cooling spit on his skin. It pulled a whimper from Stiles, his hand still jerking them off between their bodies.
Derek's free hand reached around to grab a handful of his ass, squeezing before just running his palm over the pale skin there. Stiles moaned, trying to still his rocking hips. Derek's teeth closed on his earlobe, yanking once and releasing it, mouth wandering hotly down his neck. Derek clamped down on a spot near his collarbone and sucked-just the perfect spot to send shivers racing up and down his spine. The werewolf groaned, not able to stop himself from thrusting up into Stiles' hand. Stiles whined in response, ducking his head and their mouths met again. Appreciative sounds were lost between them as they rocked together, bringing each other right to the edge.
Stiles knew when to do it, he was a quick learner, so when Derek's jaw went slack he added an extra twist to his wrist on the upstroke and sent him, trembling, into his climax. The hot cum splashed over his hand, his chest and dripped down onto Derek's chest. The feel of it on his skin and a few more tugs pulled him over too.
For a few moments afterward, Derek just breathed heavily against his skin, still holding him in place as they caught their breath. Derek let him go then and reached for the nearest bit of cloth to wipe up the mess with. Stiles thumped onto his back on the bed beside him, eyes closing as Derek worked on cleaning them both up. As he said before: he didn't think this was the best response, but it made them both feel better afterward.
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