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Stiles is running for his life. It’s become a regular occurrence and he can’t decide whether that makes his life infinitely adventurous or just makes him increasingly stupid. He’s going for an even fifty either way.
He’s running away from werewolf hunters which is ridiculous because he isn’t actually a freakin werewolf. Him and Scott – who is a werewolf – came to the woods to try and track what they’ve noticed to be werewolf activity – dead animals- claw marks in trees. The signs are obvious almost obnoxious so this other werewolf whoever he or she is wanted Scott and Stiles’ attention. The only thing is they don’t know why. But Stiles is guessing the other werewolf didn’t intend to catch the attention of the hunters.
He almost trips over a large tree root in his haste to get away from the small army of hunters and their freakin crossbows – really crossbows – but Scott grabs him just in time, hoists him up roughly so Stiles is able to continue running. The hunters are way too close because even Stiles can hear them so he does the only logical thing he can think of and tells Scott they need to split up.
“What are you freakin crazy!” Scott asks, voice panicked but breaths even and Stiles manages a glare through his gasping breaths. Freakin werewolf stamina, Stiles feels like his lungs are about to collapse.
“It’ll be harder for them to catch us if we split up. We’ll meet back up on the other side of the graveyard.” Stiles explains, the graveyard is easy to get to from either sides of the woods and the fact that their small town cemetery is that large is kind of worrying.
Scott looks reluctant, his head flinching back when he hears the sound of a bullet whip through the air. Their close.
“Fine just be careful.” Scott relents.
Stiles grins. “Aren’t I always Scotty?”
Stiles isn’t careful. He’s tackled within five minutes of separating from Scott – which he thinks is actually pretty admirable. And the fact that he doesn’t piss himself when the hunters surround him and raise their guns – well that’s damn right heroic.
He raises his hands in a sign of surrender, his heart jumping when his actions elicit the cocking of several guns.
“Okay so I understand how me running away might have looked pretty dodgy.”
“No. Really?” One of the hunters sarcastically jibes and Stiles’ mouth drops open. There’s no need to be rude jeez. He tells the guy as much but all the hunter does is raise an eyebrow and he looks so much like the burglar in Home Alone it’s almost creepy.
“I don’t take orders from werewolves.” The guy comments and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“Yeah Joe Pesci not a werewolf.” Stiles says and maybe regrets it a little when the hunter slams the butt of his gun into Stiles’ face and yep that’s definitely gonna bruise.
He clutches his face and groans, words muffled through the hands cupping his face.
“Is there an equivalent to police brutality with hunters? Hunter douchery? I’m pretty sure you guys have a code that includes you, you know not hurting humans.” Stiles finishes with a glare.
“That doesn’t count for smart ass pre teens that are hiding werewolves.” Stiles isn’t injured enough to not feel embarrassment.
“I resent that! I’m sixteen years old thank you very much.”
The hunter sneers. “I’m done talking. I know you know where the werewolf is so tell me or I’m going to blow your brains out.”
Stiles swallows thickly because something tells him this hunter doesn’t deliver empty threats and he’d rather not have his brain matter strewn across the forest floor. He doesn’t even know who their after Scott or that other werewolf who’s been marking up the forest like crazy – Stiles is half surprised he hadn’t peed anywhere. Although he might have, Stiles will have to ask Scott after all his senses aren’t as keen as his friends. And Stiles really needs to stop getting distracted by his own thoughts because the next thing he knows he’s being pulled up by the collar of his hoody.
“Fine if you’re not going to talk. I’ll make you talk.” The hunter warns and Stiles is half way through telling him how outdated and uninspiring his threats are when there’s an echoing roar that resonates through the forest.
“Holy sweet mother of god.” He praises because yes finally Scott has shown up and he’s going to save him, then maybe they can stop by the seven eleven for some milkshakes and twizzlers before going home where they can agree that trying to find this other werewolf was a bad bad idea. Except it isn’t Scott. It’s a huge freakin muscle of a man who has electric blue eyes and ridiculous stubble - he must shape that, its way too sculpted. But he’s definitely a werewolf, the overgrown sideburns and need for a manicure prove that. And he’s saving Stiles.
Stiles has time to realise that this man must have been the werewolf who’s been marking the forest but maybe it wasn’t to lure him and Scott here. Maybe it was to mark his territory. He doesn’t seem bad, apart from the whole growliness he’s only disarming the hunters not killing them and not killing is always good in Stiles’ book. And it looks like they’re about to be home free until one of the hunters crawls up from the ground and charges up to the werewolf with what looks like a collar in his hands. He snaps it around the werewolf’s neck and Stiles watches as his strength leaves him and the man looks terrified so Stiles does the only thing his panic addled brain can think up and that’s grabbing a log from the floor and hitting the hunter across the head with it. He collapses to the floor and it’s all pretty undramatic considering the whole crashing through the forest and roaring the werewolf did.
The werewolf had managed to disarm all the other hunters and Stiles did the last so for the moment their safe. Except for that nasty looking collar around the werewolves neck. It’s metal, the skin around the collar looking pinched tight and pale.
He tries to take it off and as he does a shock runs through him and he jolts, feet stumbling as he growls. Then he tries it again...and again.
“You know the definition of madness is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”Stiles puts in and snaps his mouth shut when the werewolf glares at him. Stiles purses his lips. “I’m shutting up now.” Stiles informs but after watching the man try to remove the collar again – seriously what is up with this guy- Stiles huffs.
“Let me try.” He says as he stomps over to the werewolf. The guy looks tense but he allows Stiles to tilt his head to the side. He does however jolt back when Stiles taps his fingers against his collar.
“Are you insane? You could have been electrocuted.” The guy growls.
“It was just an experiment and it had promising results.” Stiles explains resisting the urge to roll his eyes at this guy.
“What results?” The werewolf says.
“When you tried to remove the collar you were electrocuted but my touch did nothing which means they’ve got some high tech stuff here that can sense the difference between the genes of a human and the genes of a werewolf. God knows how but well... it works.” Stiles finishes, smiling lamely and uncomfortably when the man just glares.
“What were you doing here anyway?” The werewolf asks. “This is private property.”
Stiles eyes widen. “So you are the werewolf who’s been marking this place up.” Stiles identifies and the other man nods like this is simple normal behaviour.
“This is my territory and I marked it so you and your werewolf friend would stop coming onto it.” He growls.
“Ohh.” Stiles says around a laugh. “Well I totally got attacked by hunters for no reason. We thought you were luring us here so we could join your little werewolf pack or whatever.”
The werewolf looks so damn despondent. Stiles grins impishly and rubs his palm over the back of his neck.
“So awkward misunderstandings aside... uh...thanks for uh you know saving me. I’m pretty sure Joe Pesci there would of killed me if it hadn’t of been for you.”
The werewolf nods and begins to turn away but Stiles can see the grimace he makes, the way his hand inches up towards where the collar is pulling at his neck. Mr. Stilinski brought him to right, told him to help those in need and now is one of those times. Stiles can’t just say thanks and turn away. This guy saved him and god help him Stiles is going to return the favour.
“Hey what’s your name?”
The werewolf turns to him slowly and when he answers he ducks his head slightly, whispers the word out like it’s a secret.
“Derek. Derek Hale.”
“Well Derek I’m Stiles Stilinski and no I’m not making that up.” Stiles says around a laugh.
“Look you’ve gotta let me help you with the whole “– Stiles points to his neck – “Collar thing. I mean these guys are probably gonna be looking for us so it’d be safer for you to crash at mine. I mean if you don’t mind or whatever.”
Derek doesn’t say anything for such a long time Stiles begins to wonder if he heard him but eventually Derek nods. “It would be safer.” He agrees.
Before they leave Derek ties the hunter’s against the base of a tree. Stiles stares at the rope and the way Derek’s long fingers skim between it.
“Square knot cool.” Stiles identifies and proceeds to inform Derek of all the different types of knots the entire way back to the car. At one point Derek wonders if it wouldn’t have been better for him to of stayed with the hunters.
/
Half way home Stiles gets a call from Scott who sounds like a floundering housewife from the fifties.
“Where on earth are you? I’ve been worried sick. I’ve been at the cemetery for twenty minutes!” Scott hisses and Stiles’ face drops.
“Oh buddy god I’m so sorry. I just got... sidetracked.” Stiles explains as he side eyes Derek who’s slumped in the passenger seat of his jeep- trying and failing to pretend he’s not exhausted.
He’s tried several more times to remove the collar and every time it shocks him – he just tenses up more and the collar tightens. Stiles frowns.
“Sidetracked? I thought you were dead.” Scott squawks.
“Okay Big Bird, I know but I’m fine okay?”
Derek snorts beside him and when Stiles looks over there’s a little mirth filled smirk on his face. Stiles smirks back.
“Look I’m all good and you’re good so... everything’s good okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Scott sighs but he sounds more relieved than exasperated.
“Fine..but hey what about the werewolf?” Scott asks.
“I don’t think it’s as bad as we thought.” Stiles says, eyes on Derek who’s looking straight ahead.
Stiles hangs up soon after and realising how tired Derek looks and seeing as he still has at least another twenty minutes before he gets to his house he turns to Derek.
“You can sleep if you want – get your strength back. I’ll wake you when we get to mine.” Stiles says and like before Derek takes a long time to acknowledge his words. Eventually he does nod and rests his head against the passenger side window.
It’s a testament to how unthreatening Derek must find Stiles because he falls asleep almost instantly. Either that or Derek trusts him. Stiles likes to think it’s the latter.
They drive back to the house, their even breathing and quiet hum of the car heating lulling them.
/
“My uh my dad’s on the late shift so you can shower or whatever if you want. Maybe watch some TV, we have cable.” Stiles says his voice fading away as Derek walks straight through the living room and towards the bookshelf where he picks a book at random, stalks over to the couch, takes a seat and opens the book up and he can’t seriously be reading that can he? He opened it up like half way through. What’s the point in starting a story half way through?
Stiles doesn’t have the energy to contemplate it because he’s too hungry and tired so he makes himself and Derek roast beef and relish sandwiches which they eat enthusiastically.
After when Stiles is out of the shower and Derek’s perched on the edge of his bed Stiles’ curiosity is too peeked.
“So where’s your pack?” He asks, feeling intrusive when Derek sends him a sharp look.
“I mean every wolf has to belong to a pack, well apart from Scott but Scott’s different.” Stiles says.
“I don’t have a pack.” Derek says and something about his tone implies Stiles shouldn’t ask anymore.
“Oh...okay.” Stiles relents, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. Stiles looks ...soft. In his pyjama pants and a thin white t-shirt, slightly damp hair fluttered across his forehead.
“I’m gonna take another look at the collar if that’s okay?” Derek grunts his consent then Stiles is in his space, leaning forward and fingering at the collar. The nape of his neck level with Derek’s nose. He sniffs, smells sweetness and a fresh thin layer of sweat. It’s a nice smell and Derek’s too involved with inhaling again that he doesn’t notice Stiles go stiff.
“Are you...are you sniffing me?” Stiles asks and Derek blushes, shoves him away.
“No.” Derek denies with a scowl.
“Oh my god you totally were.” Stiles says but now he’s blushing too and Derek doesn’t know whether that makes him feel better or worse.
They stare at each other for a long time and the fact that it isn’t uncomfortable makes Derek feel uncomfortable. He clears his throat and looks away and that seems to break Stiles out of his stupor because he shakes himself and stands up straight.
“I think I know how we can get the collar off of you.” He says.
“How?”
“Well I know it sounds ridiculously simplistic but I think you need to relax.”
“Relax?” Derek asks in a deadpan voice.
“Yes relax. Is it that much of a foreign concept to you? Actually don’t answer that. I mean your muscle cords have like extra miniature cords on them. Every time you tense up the collar gets tighter so it only makes sense for it to loosen when you do.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “That’s just ridiculous.” He says, hand going to grab at the collar and forcibly tear it off again. Of course it doesn’t work. He ends up writhing like a fool instead and because Stiles is too soft hearted and nice he actually ends up pitying Derek instead of doing a victory dance because he was right. Stiles is always right.
When the shocks have finally stopped Stiles folds his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow.
“Just as ridiculous as you shocking your self... how many times has it been now..oh yeah six times.” Derek scowls, eyebrows pinching and mouth turning downward and Stiles doesn’t know why he finds that so endearing.
“Fine. What do you suggest?” Derek relents and Stiles grins and the werewolf wonders what made him trust this boy.
“Aromatherapy.” Stiles says.
“Aroma- what now?” Derek asks and wishes he hadn’t because soon after he finds himself face down and shirtless on Stiles’ bed with the overwhelming scent of lavender and cherry candles in the air. And at the moment he envies Stile’s muted senses because the mix of scents from the candles is awful. He’d much rather just smell Stiles.
“This isn’t very relaxing.” Derek informs as Stiles presses play on his laptop and the sound of –what can only be described as gargling – dribbles out. “And your music taste leaves a lot to be desired.”
“It’s called throat singing smartass and it’s supposed to relax your mind and soothe your inner turmoil.” Stiles says like he’s reading from a Wikipedia page.
“By what making your ears bleed?” Derek asks as he lifts his head, releasing a small growl when Stiles shoves his head down onto the pillow in retaliation to his words.
Stiles kneels by the side of Derek’s hip and Derek hears the shnick of a bottle being opened before cold – arctic cold – oil is being squirted over his shoulders. He yells out and goes to sit up until he feels Stiles’ hand on his shoulder, warm fingers gripping firm.
“Sorry.” Stiles says but he doesn’t sound sorry at all, actually he sounds like he just really wants to laugh.
“I think we need to redefine your definition–“ Derek pauses and groans when Stile’s hand slips in the oil coating his back and Stile’s jagged elbow nudges into the side of Derek’s ribs. “Definition of relaxing.” He finishes. Stiles is all angles and awkward limbs and he jabs Derek more than he does massage him until Derek growls throatily and pushes Stile’s hands away. He sits up.
“This isn’t helping.” He says.
“It would be if you weren’t such a sourwolf.” Stiles says as he flicks his hand, vanilla scented oil flickering off of his fingers and falling to the bedspread, darkening the fabric.
“Sourwolf?” Derek says confusedly as he frowns.
“Did that insult not register because I’ve got plenty more.” Stiles tells him.
“I didn’t ask for your help.” Derek growls and he knows he shouldn’t have come here just because the kid had kind eyes and thanked him. He’s just like the rest, will take from Derek what he can then cut him down with cold words and warm lips... holy Christ. Warm lips pressed against his own and how did that happen?
Stiles is shaking and Derek inhales gently but Stiles doesn’t smell scared just nervous and when Derek closes his eyes and nudges his lips back against Stiles’ he gets a whiff of excitement and contentment and its a thousand times better than all the scented candles Stiles scattered around the room.
They part for air and Stiles drags his lip up over Derek’s where they catch and for some reason that makes Derek feel hotter. He grips Stile’s waist through the thin material of his t-shirt, eases him back onto his bed where the mattress squeaks under their combined weight.
Stile’s hands are running through his hair, oil slick fingers massaging his temple. The pressure on his neck eases but he pays no attention to it as they continue kissing. They kiss, until Derek’s lips feel bruised, until Stiles is thumbing over his pulse point and wait – the collar.
Derek pulls back with a shocked confused frown and looks down at Stiles who is flushed but smiling smugly.
“Told you all you needed to do was relax.” Stiles states and all that warmth Derek felt before drops away.
“Is that why you kissed me?” He asks and he wants to sound angry but really he just sounds hurt.
“Actually.” Stiles says, clearing his throat and blushing. “That was just for me, the collar was a bonus.”
“Oh.” Derek breaths and Stiles smiles. “Yeah.” The teen agrees.
“So if I were to kiss you again, they’d be no objections.”
Stiles lets the collar slip through his fingers. “None what so ever.” He answers.
“Good.” Derek whispers then he’s kissing him again, covering Stiles’ body with his own as he cups the back of his neck and makes it his personal mission to acquaint his lips to Stiles’.
It’s dizzying and perfect and Derek feels like he could do it forever until there’s the uncomfortable clearing of a throat from the doorway. He doesn’t recognise the person; their scents similar to Stiles’ in a way but Derek cant bring himself to fully move away from Stiles. He likes him close.
“Dad!” Stiles squeaks from beneath Derek, trying to shove Derek off of him only to fail every time. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
His father quirks a disbelieving eyebrow, body tense but voice placating. “So you haven’t got a half naked man covered in oil in your bed?”
“Ummm.” Stiles says, biting on his bottom lip in the most inviting way. Derek feels a rumble of pleasure bubble up his throat which this time is interrupted by loud clapping and the Sherriff flailing his hands as if he’s trying to scare away a flock of birds.
“Okay, okay break it up. I want you both downstairs. Now.”
Stiles blushes furiously as Derek lifts up off of him and the teen sits up gingerly before attempting to stand. After a few seconds he sits back down again and covers his lap with his hands. “Yeah definitely gonna need a couple minutes.” Stiles admits with an embarrassed grin and Derek gives him a dopey smile in return.
The Sherriff rolls his eyes before clapping a hand onto Derek’s shoulder.
“Five minutes.” The Sherriff says to Stiles before turning to Derek. “Me and Romeo here can have a chat whiles we wait for you.”
So Stiles is totally gonna be grounded but he made out with a hot guy so in his opinion his glass is already half full.
/