Chapter Text
Harsh pants ripped through the otherwise quiet night as thudding footsteps pounded the ground. Skidding around a corner, clawed hands flashed out as the figure struggled to make as tight a turn as possible. The resulting screech grated on his delicate ears as inhuman nails left pale, jagged lines against the aged brick.
Picking up speed again, wild yellow eyes scanned the alley for an escape route. His nose twitched, catching the scent too late, as something heavy landed on his back with a growl. The figure’s legs collapsed under the unexpected weight, and he hit the ground with a grunt. His arms were instantly pinned behind his back in an easy, practiced move.
A growl echoed by his ear as hot breath huffed against his exposed neck. “Don’t move.”
A heartbeat later, a silhouette appeared at the mouth of the alley. It melted soundlessly out of the shadows and began to walk towards them. As it moved, the darkness shifted as though unwrapping a present. Red jacket sleeves were pushed up to reveal elegant glowing runes, the soft orange light limning taut forearms. Though the weak luminescence left the majority of the face hidden, two ethereal coals winked like stars underneath the scarlet hood.
“Careful, Derek. Don’t wanna break our toy just yet.”
Wide, fearful eyes gazed up at the hooded figure. “Little Red,” the rogue werewolf breathed.
Derek smirked as the wolf’s heartbeat sped up in recognition and his breathing hitched. “Seems like you’re a bit famous around here, Stiles.” His claws slid out, just barely pricking the wolf’s wrists in a promise for things to come.
“Then you’re the last Hale,” the werewolf realized aloud, his voice trembling. If he'd had a tail, Derek imagined it would've been between his legs.
“That’s right.” Stiles knelt down beside the wolf. His tattoos and irises shone brighter. “Now tell us why you did it.”
“I lost control,” the wolf choked out, shame permeating his scent. “It happened so fast. One second I was trying to find my anchor and then the her blood was on my hands.”
“Not that,” Derek rumbled impatiently. “We know how the girl died. We want to know where your old pack is.”
The omega was silent, his eyes growing hard and stubborn.
“Trying to play tough guy, huh?” Stiles’s lip quirked up. “Very noble. Let’s see how long that loyalty lasts, how long until you give up the people who kicked you out on your ass.”
Derek pressed his claws down, drawing several beads of blood, and bared his fangs. He slowly drew his claws down the omega’s skin, leaving oozing gashes in their wake. The omega wailed in pain, but Stiles, with a bored expression on his face, snapped his fingers and Derek felt the hair on his neck stand on end as magic rippled through the alley. The omega’s throat continued to flex with no sound coming out.
Derek paused in his mission to shred every inch of the omega’s skin and Stiles loosened his control over the omega’s vocal cords. “Ready to talk yet?” Stiles’ cold eyes were narrowed, gleaming slits. “Or do you need some more persuading?”
“Go fuck yourself,” the omega spat, spittle landing on Stiles’ black boots.
“Sorry,” sneered Stiles, his runes glimmering with restrained power, “that’s Derek’s job.” With a harsh twist of his wrist, the omega’s mouth contorted in another silent scream of agony. He didn't even have the strength to thrash, his body growing taut like a bowstring.
Derek started a little as the wolf’s skin began to grow warmer, vibrating as Stiles lit the wolf’s blood on fire. His ears twitched at the sound of bubbling liquid beneath the skin. Derek eased up until he was simply kneeling over the omega, knowing he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Soon the wolf was a panting, groaning mess as Stiles released him. Derek’s eyes zeroed in on the drop of sweat rolling down Stiles’ face. He scowled.
“Are you ready now?” Stiles snarled, slamming his hand down on the pavement by the wolf's head. “We really don’t have all night, you know. We’ve got places to go and people to kill.” His runes glinted restlessly.
“Yes,” the wolf gasped, tears flowing down his cheeks as his body trembled and heaved. “Yes, please, just no more.”
“Then talk,” Derek snapped.
“After they heard you were coming,” wheezed the omega, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and steaming as it touched the cool night air, “they left. They told me to stay behind and distract you.”
“How?” demanded Stiles. “How did they know we were on our way?”
“The other supernaturals talk,” he explained between ragged breaths. “Rumors and gossip are passed underground, easy to catch if you know what to listen for.”
“Where did they go?”
The wolf hesitated and Derek’s claws sunk into his flesh once more, irritated. They were too exposed out here, and he was anxious to get the job done before someone found them.
“Beacon Hills!” was the elicited sob. “It was Beacon Hills, please just stop.”
When Stiles sought out Derek’s eyes, his gaze questioning. Derek shook his head minutely. The wolf was telling the truth.
“Fine,” Stiles said shortly. He stood, tattoos flashing one more time before Derek’s keen senses stopped hearing the rushing of the wolf’s pulse. The scent of death tickled his nose as the omega's blank eyes began to glaze over. “Let’s go.” He turned and Derek followed wordlessly.
“What did you do with the body?” Derek asked later as he closed the door to their apartment. Stiles didn’t answer because he’d taken one step before his knees buckled.
“Stiles!”
“Fuck,” muttered Stiles as Derek’s arms wrapped around his sagging body. “Glad this didn’t happen like an hour ago. That would’ve been embarrassing. Would’ve totally ruined my badass image.”
“You fucking idiot.” Derek couldn’t help the fondness lacing his tone as he easily carried him to the couch. “Are you okay?”
“Peachy.” Stiles sprawled out, lanky limbs easily taking up the whole length of the sofa. “Just give me a sec. New trick, you know? Didn’t realize it was so taxing. Magic sucks; zero out of ten, would not recommend."
“Idiot,” reiterated Derek, adjusting Stiles' head in his lap. “So what should we do?”
“We need to leave,” Stiles sighed, driving the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. His runes flickered uneasily until Stiles stoked the spark reassuringly. His magic buzzed contentedly, Derek’s wolf reaching out to nuzzle it, before going dormant once more.
“Intercept them on their way to Beacon Hills?” Derek couldn’t help the surprise leaking into his voice. His hands idly drifted down to Stiles’s hair, and Stiles hummed happily at the familiar gesture.
“You want to go back?” Stiles lifted one sardonic eyebrow as their eyes met.
“You don’t?” countered Derek, raising his own brow. Stiles had to admit that Derek's eyebrows out-browed his own every single time.
“No, actually.” Stiles’ eyes drifted closed. “I only wanted to get out of New York because apparently every supe here knows us. But I never said anything about wanting to go back to Beacon Hills. You did. Why? Nostalgic, are you?”
“Not even close,” Derek retorted.
“Then what?” Stiles challenged. And Derek, Derek didn’t have an answer.
“It doesn’t make you weak, Der,” Stiles went on quietly. He lifted his arm up, watching his tattoos blink to life. The archaic symbols peeled themselves slowly off his skin to dance in the air above them. His eyes tracked them critically as they circled Derek's head, nudging his cheeks and ruffling his hair. Derek absentmindedly rumbled a wordless greeting to them. “Wanting to go back, I mean. It just means you’re human. You want to go back to your roots, it’s natural. We haven’t been there in years. Maybe it’s time we paid a visit.” The scintillating marks pulsed one last time, Derek's eyes flashing in response, before they returned to their home on Stiles' skin.
“You don’t believe that,” replied Derek flatly.
“Not in the slightest,” Stiles chirped, not at all concerned about his lie being seen through. He would’ve been more worried if Derek had taken his ‘heartfelt’ speech seriously. “I think you’re batshit insane for wanting to go, but if you want to, I won’t stop you. Besides, this isn’t even the craziest thing I’ve done for you or that you’ve done for me. And we promised we’d do everything together, right? ”
A reminiscent smile tugged at Derek’s lips against his will. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We did.”
“Come on out,” Derek called, not bothering to turn around. “I know you’re there, and I know you know what I am.” He let his eyes flash blue as his claws extended with a neat schnik. Fangs crowded his mouth and his human face melted away.
A sixteen year-old Stiles stepped out into the open, face set underneath a distinct crimson hood. He was tall and lanky, already about Derek’s height with broad shoulders and a trim waist. Despite the baggy hoodie and jeans concealing his form, Derek could already tell the kid was at least toned, probably an athlete of some sort.
“What are you?”
A wry smirk twisted at Stiles’ lips. “Now where’s the fun in just handing you all the answers, wolf man?
Derek’s nostrils flared appraisingly. “You’re magic. You’re hiding your scent.”
“Very good,” Stiles praised, stopping mere feet from Derek. He radiated confidence, setting Derek’s senses on edge. It was surreal to see him right there but being unable to smell anything other than dirt and mold. As a creature that relied so heavily on his nose, it was unsettling to say the least.
A pale brightness beneath the kid’s jacket caught Derek’s eye. In a flash, Derek lunged forward with his claws slashing out. The light increased and Derek’s sharp gaze flitted to the small strip of skin disclosed by the fluttering of the kid’s unzipped jacket and ill-fitted shirt. A hint of a tattoo marking the boy’s skin was revealed as his shirt slid up. Then Derek found himself flying backwards through the air. Slamming into the wall, he let out a grunt as he fell to the ground. His wolf bristled agitatedly at the magic stinking up the air.
“Please,” Stiles sneered, unimpressed, “you didn’t really expect that to work, did you?”
“Of course not.” Derek brushed himself off as he stood. “But now I know you’re not just a magic-user; you’re a master.” He gestured to the inked skin hiding beneath the boy’s thin top.
Stiles’ cocky aura wavered just for a moment, his anxiety-laden scent reaching Derek's nose for the first time, before he was smiling again. “So the wolf’s got tricks up his sleeve. Awesome, killing you will be fun.”
“A mage in an alliance with hunters?” mused Derek, goading the brat. “That’s a first.”
“Hardly,” scoffed Stiles. “It’s more of a vigilante complex. You killed that girl from two weeks ago, so I get to kill you in return. Let’s just say I’m balancing the scales, keeping the world in order and shit.”
Despite the ache in his chest twisting viciously, Derek managed to plaster on a smug look. “You think I’m the murderer? Hate to break it to you, but my name’s Derek Hale.”
“Impossible,” Stiles said dismissively. “The Hale fire killed all but Laura. There’s no way you’re her kid brother.”
“Then why did your heartbeat just skip? I’m pretty sure a mage of your caliber should be able to tell if I’m lying or not. I am Derek Hale, son of Talia Hale. Laura was my sister and I am the second to last of my pack.”
“Second to last?” Stiles’ brow arched, interest piqued. Derek could practically feel his magic perking up like a dog that had caught a whiff of something appealing.
“I’m looking for the actual killer—”
“Peter,” Stiles mumbled in realization. “Fuck.”
“So you know.”
“Just whispers here and there,” Stiles shrugged. “I figured it was all speculation conjured by fear of the Argents, but I guess I was wrong.”
“You know the Argents?” Derek bit back a bone-deep growl of disgust at the infamous name. His hands curled, itching to wrap around the slender neck of a particular Argent and crush it with a satisfying crunch.
“Everyone knows the Argents,” Stiles pointed out indifferently. “So, sounds like we’re on the same trail. Care to team up? Get the job done quicker.”
“And why should I trust you?”
“I never said to,” Stiles shot back with a smirk, his eyes flaring. “I asked if you wanted to help me bring down an alpha.”
Derek’s own eyes bled vermillion, a memoir from his and Stiles' first successful kill, before he blinked it away. They’d come a long way since then, since they were two assassins brought together by a common goal. Now they were just two lost souls doing the only thing they knew how to, finding their way by wading through a river of blood—sometimes supernatural, sometimes not.
But they weren’t hunters, they didn’t follow a more or less moral code. Instead, they catered to each other’s whims. When Derek’s claws pierced the kanima’s scaly neck, the hide weakened momentarily by Stiles’ magic, Stiles had assured him, “Don’t worry, Jackson was the biggest douche to ever douche. He totally had this coming.” And when Stiles’ white hot energy burned away the darach’s flesh and bone, Derek had simply said, “She used me when I was weak,” and Stiles hadn’t questioned it.
That’s what they did. They killed and pushed on, never staying in one place for too long. Stiles liked to think it was because they were constantly on the tail of one out of control super or another, but Derek knew it was because they both feared what would happen if they stopped.
So they didn’t stop.
“Hey, earth to Derek. You there?” Stiles’ hand was waving in front of his face, so Derek playfully caught it between his blunt human teeth. “There you are,” Stiles beamed. “Lost you for a second.”
Derek’s hand came up to twine their fingers together and he murmured, “I trust you.”
“I trust you too,” Stiles replied seriously, eyes bright with familiar amber instead of vibrant orange. His magic purred in agreement while Derek's wolf curled protectively around it.
Derek’s ears rang with the sound of Stiles’ voice once saying, “Our lives don’t have room for love. You love and you die.”
“Then we won’t fall in love,” Derek had said with an easy smirk.
It had seemed so simple back then, Derek mused. Pushing it aside, he bent down to seal their lips together in an action that was far too familiar for two people not falling in love. The kiss had Stiles awkwardly craning his neck to align their mouths properly, and Derek couldn’t help but smile as Stiles almost slithered off the couch as he twisted his upper body.
“So, what do you say?” Stiles grinned lazily as he pressed an affectionate kiss to the tip of Derek’s nose. “Road trip?”