Fic: Derek and the Unnecessary Pining (4/14)
Title: Derek and the Unnecessary Pining
Series: Bizarre Love Polyhedron
Rating: PG-13
Genres: Humor, Angst
Setting: Post Season 3A
Pairings: Stiles/Derek, background Scott/Stiles, Scott/Isaac/Allison, Lydia/Aiden, Danny/Ethan, implied Scott&Stiles&Derek
Wordcount: 1300 (this chapter); ~18k total
Beta: percygranger
Stiles is unfairly attractive, Scott is terrifyingly earnest, and Cora is a brat. Derek just wants them to leave him alone so he can finish reading his book. Is that so much to ask?
Chapter 1: Back to Bacon Hills
Chapter 2: Pity Party
Chapter 3: Awkward
Chapter 4: Guardian
Derek was never going to offer Stiles a ride in his car, ever again. Certainly not in the middle of November, when it was too cold to roll the windows down. The entire trip to Stiles’ house, the car had slowly filled up with the sharp, pungent odor of arousal. Not just from Stiles, which would have been bad enough, but both of them, scents mingling.
Derek rolled the windows down on the drive back to Scott’s, weather be damned. Cora was going to give him so much shit for having car-window hair.
From everything he had said this evening, Stiles was in love with Scott. Why wouldn’t he be? Scott was a good person, a good alpha. Scott didn’t bite teenagers in a desperate bid to not be alone. Scott didn’t struggle for control over his shift when someone he loved announced that he’d argued with his boyfriend. Scott didn’t almost force himself on drunk, underaged, vulnerable teenagers.
Derek bit his lip, canines extended, to regain some semblance of control. The pain helped ground him. Derek had spent enough of his time making split-second decisions and regretting them for the rest of his life. Maybe it was time to try something new.
In the interest of self-improvement, he devised a plan: he would drive back to Scott’s house, give Cora the car keys, threaten to rip Scott’s lungs out if he ever hurt Stiles like that again, and then run back to Stiles’ house to make sure he was okay.
It wasn’t the best plan, as these things went, but it was a start.
By the time he rolled up in front of Scott’s house, blood was dripping down his chin and splattering onto his Henley. He retracted his fangs and wiped away what he could, spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the sidewalk. Then he straightened his leather jacket, got out of the car, locked it, and calmly, deliberately, walked to the front door and knocked.
Peter answered. “You’re back?” He sounded surprised.
“Yes,” Derek growled, and pushed past to the middle of the room, where Scott, Isaac, and Allison were clinging to each other on the sofa. Cora was huddled into the corner by the dessert table, still in view of whatever was playing on the television, but as far away from Scott as she could get and still be in the same room.
Scott straightened in his seat. “I’m sorry,” he said, but Derek shook his head.
“He loves you.” He growled, baring his teeth. “Don’t fuck it up.”
Scott jumped up from the couch. In the corner of his eye, he could see Cora start slinking closer.
“That’s none of your business.”
“When my name comes up as the central point of your argument, I think it makes it my business.”
Scott’s eyes flashed red. “That was a private conversation.”
“No, it wasn’t! You and Stiles both admitted that you knew everyone could hear you fighting!” By this time, Derek could feel his facial muscles twisting, threatening to shift, and his fangs scratched against his lower lip as he spoke. “Maybe it didn’t start out that way, but you made it my business when you let your boyfriend walk out the door of this house!”
Scott didn’t bother to control his shift, and he snarled at Derek, all flashing red eyes and sharp teeth. Derek resisted the urge to bare his neck. “I don’t let Stiles do anything!”
“Of course you don’t, you just give him panic atta-” A click and a flash cut Derek off mid-rant. He turned towards the source, his fangs already receding. Cora was holding up her cell phone. “What the hell?”
“Did you just take a picture?” Scott whined.
Cora rolled her eyes and stuffed her phone in her back pocket. “Chill out, you two, you’re scaring the cubs.” She nodded towards the couch, and Derek and Scott turned simultaneously to see Isaac crouched behind the arm, a grimace on his face.
“Isaac, I’m so sorry!” Scott said, frantic, clambering back onto the couch as Isaac relaxed against the sofa arm and scrubbed a hand through his hair, mumbling about how it wasn’t a big deal, he was fine, and would Scott just calm down already.
Derek could feel his anger melting away, leaving him drained. “Here,” he said, tossing the car keys at Cora. “Stay the night if you want, I don’t care.”
He turned to leave, and Peter was staring at him from the door, a calculating look on his face.
“Don’t,” Derek said.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Peter said, his eyebrows raised.
Derek closed the front door softly behind him, counted to ten, and then started walking - not running - to Stiles’ house.
***
After verifying that the sheriff’s patrol car was missing from the driveway, Derek clambered up to Stiles’ bedroom window and peeked inside. Stiles was flopped stomach down on the mattress, face smashed into the pillow and arms and legs flung akimbo. He hadn’t bothered getting undressed; his shoes were still on.
Even in sleep, Stiles was radiating quiet misery.
Laura had only been in three relationships, and she’d only been dumped the once, but Derek could still remember how miserable she’d been in the weeks afterward. He had done his best to take care of her, but it was different when your big sister was the one hurting. He wasn’t exactly sure if Stiles would even want to be taken care of - still, Derek wanted to try.
He slid the window open as silently as he could and stepped inside with a nearly inaudible rustle of his shoes against the carpet. Taking in a deep breath, he crept over to Stiles’ bed and appraised the situation.
Stiles had fallen asleep in the clothes he’d been wearing to the party. They smelled of whisky and garlic powder. It was an improvement over the sexual frustration from earlier, though, and Derek breathed in and out, slow and even, to make sure he was fully in control.
Derek could untie Stiles’ sneakers without waking him, but he wouldn’t be able to remove any other articles of clothing. Stiles’ cellphone was poking out of his back pocket; it was probably uncomfortable. It was a bit chilly in the room, but there was no way for Derek to drape the comforter over Stiles, since he was currently sprawled on top of it.
First, Derek unlaced Stiles’ shoes and eased them off, placing them neatly at the foot of the bed. He then fished Stiles’ cellphone out of his pocket and tried to check the battery level, but it looked like it was dead. He found the charger buried under a pile of dirty laundry and plugged it in so Stiles would have it in the morning. Adding “blankets” to his mental checklist, Derek climbed back out the window, leaving it only slightly cracked so as not to let out all the heat.
He walked to the loft - there was no point in running; it would just make him sweaty - and grabbed the navy blanket at the foot of his bed, pausing when he got to his bookshelf. After a moment’s hesitation, he selected his battered copy of the Hobbit, and started the walk back to Stiles’.
When he ducked back through the window, he settled the blanket over Stiles’ shoulders, making sure to cover his toes.
He climbed back out onto the roof and checked his phone for the time. Just past midnight. If the sheriff was working a night shift, he should be back before Stiles woke up. Derek settled in to the crook between Stiles’ window and the main slope of the roof, and flipped his book open to chapter one, letters crisp under the glow of the gibbous moon.
Chapter 5: It's Not Stalking, Really
Series: Bizarre Love Polyhedron
Rating: PG-13
Genres: Humor, Angst
Setting: Post Season 3A
Pairings: Stiles/Derek, background Scott/Stiles, Scott/Isaac/Allison, Lydia/Aiden, Danny/Ethan, implied Scott&Stiles&Derek
Wordcount: 1300 (this chapter); ~18k total
Beta: percygranger
Stiles is unfairly attractive, Scott is terrifyingly earnest, and Cora is a brat. Derek just wants them to leave him alone so he can finish reading his book. Is that so much to ask?
Chapter 1: Back to Bacon Hills
Chapter 2: Pity Party
Chapter 3: Awkward
Chapter 4: Guardian
Derek was never going to offer Stiles a ride in his car, ever again. Certainly not in the middle of November, when it was too cold to roll the windows down. The entire trip to Stiles’ house, the car had slowly filled up with the sharp, pungent odor of arousal. Not just from Stiles, which would have been bad enough, but both of them, scents mingling.
Derek rolled the windows down on the drive back to Scott’s, weather be damned. Cora was going to give him so much shit for having car-window hair.
From everything he had said this evening, Stiles was in love with Scott. Why wouldn’t he be? Scott was a good person, a good alpha. Scott didn’t bite teenagers in a desperate bid to not be alone. Scott didn’t struggle for control over his shift when someone he loved announced that he’d argued with his boyfriend. Scott didn’t almost force himself on drunk, underaged, vulnerable teenagers.
Derek bit his lip, canines extended, to regain some semblance of control. The pain helped ground him. Derek had spent enough of his time making split-second decisions and regretting them for the rest of his life. Maybe it was time to try something new.
In the interest of self-improvement, he devised a plan: he would drive back to Scott’s house, give Cora the car keys, threaten to rip Scott’s lungs out if he ever hurt Stiles like that again, and then run back to Stiles’ house to make sure he was okay.
It wasn’t the best plan, as these things went, but it was a start.
By the time he rolled up in front of Scott’s house, blood was dripping down his chin and splattering onto his Henley. He retracted his fangs and wiped away what he could, spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the sidewalk. Then he straightened his leather jacket, got out of the car, locked it, and calmly, deliberately, walked to the front door and knocked.
Peter answered. “You’re back?” He sounded surprised.
“Yes,” Derek growled, and pushed past to the middle of the room, where Scott, Isaac, and Allison were clinging to each other on the sofa. Cora was huddled into the corner by the dessert table, still in view of whatever was playing on the television, but as far away from Scott as she could get and still be in the same room.
Scott straightened in his seat. “I’m sorry,” he said, but Derek shook his head.
“He loves you.” He growled, baring his teeth. “Don’t fuck it up.”
Scott jumped up from the couch. In the corner of his eye, he could see Cora start slinking closer.
“That’s none of your business.”
“When my name comes up as the central point of your argument, I think it makes it my business.”
Scott’s eyes flashed red. “That was a private conversation.”
“No, it wasn’t! You and Stiles both admitted that you knew everyone could hear you fighting!” By this time, Derek could feel his facial muscles twisting, threatening to shift, and his fangs scratched against his lower lip as he spoke. “Maybe it didn’t start out that way, but you made it my business when you let your boyfriend walk out the door of this house!”
Scott didn’t bother to control his shift, and he snarled at Derek, all flashing red eyes and sharp teeth. Derek resisted the urge to bare his neck. “I don’t let Stiles do anything!”
“Of course you don’t, you just give him panic atta-” A click and a flash cut Derek off mid-rant. He turned towards the source, his fangs already receding. Cora was holding up her cell phone. “What the hell?”
“Did you just take a picture?” Scott whined.
Cora rolled her eyes and stuffed her phone in her back pocket. “Chill out, you two, you’re scaring the cubs.” She nodded towards the couch, and Derek and Scott turned simultaneously to see Isaac crouched behind the arm, a grimace on his face.
“Isaac, I’m so sorry!” Scott said, frantic, clambering back onto the couch as Isaac relaxed against the sofa arm and scrubbed a hand through his hair, mumbling about how it wasn’t a big deal, he was fine, and would Scott just calm down already.
Derek could feel his anger melting away, leaving him drained. “Here,” he said, tossing the car keys at Cora. “Stay the night if you want, I don’t care.”
He turned to leave, and Peter was staring at him from the door, a calculating look on his face.
“Don’t,” Derek said.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Peter said, his eyebrows raised.
Derek closed the front door softly behind him, counted to ten, and then started walking - not running - to Stiles’ house.
***
After verifying that the sheriff’s patrol car was missing from the driveway, Derek clambered up to Stiles’ bedroom window and peeked inside. Stiles was flopped stomach down on the mattress, face smashed into the pillow and arms and legs flung akimbo. He hadn’t bothered getting undressed; his shoes were still on.
Even in sleep, Stiles was radiating quiet misery.
Laura had only been in three relationships, and she’d only been dumped the once, but Derek could still remember how miserable she’d been in the weeks afterward. He had done his best to take care of her, but it was different when your big sister was the one hurting. He wasn’t exactly sure if Stiles would even want to be taken care of - still, Derek wanted to try.
He slid the window open as silently as he could and stepped inside with a nearly inaudible rustle of his shoes against the carpet. Taking in a deep breath, he crept over to Stiles’ bed and appraised the situation.
Stiles had fallen asleep in the clothes he’d been wearing to the party. They smelled of whisky and garlic powder. It was an improvement over the sexual frustration from earlier, though, and Derek breathed in and out, slow and even, to make sure he was fully in control.
Derek could untie Stiles’ sneakers without waking him, but he wouldn’t be able to remove any other articles of clothing. Stiles’ cellphone was poking out of his back pocket; it was probably uncomfortable. It was a bit chilly in the room, but there was no way for Derek to drape the comforter over Stiles, since he was currently sprawled on top of it.
First, Derek unlaced Stiles’ shoes and eased them off, placing them neatly at the foot of the bed. He then fished Stiles’ cellphone out of his pocket and tried to check the battery level, but it looked like it was dead. He found the charger buried under a pile of dirty laundry and plugged it in so Stiles would have it in the morning. Adding “blankets” to his mental checklist, Derek climbed back out the window, leaving it only slightly cracked so as not to let out all the heat.
He walked to the loft - there was no point in running; it would just make him sweaty - and grabbed the navy blanket at the foot of his bed, pausing when he got to his bookshelf. After a moment’s hesitation, he selected his battered copy of the Hobbit, and started the walk back to Stiles’.
When he ducked back through the window, he settled the blanket over Stiles’ shoulders, making sure to cover his toes.
He climbed back out onto the roof and checked his phone for the time. Just past midnight. If the sheriff was working a night shift, he should be back before Stiles woke up. Derek settled in to the crook between Stiles’ window and the main slope of the roof, and flipped his book open to chapter one, letters crisp under the glow of the gibbous moon.
Chapter 5: It's Not Stalking, Really