Chapter Text
It’d been a week without a word. Stiles had given up on texting, given up on calling, and now was beyond worry into desperation. It wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right, and he didn’t want to intrude on Derek’s life if he wasn’t welcome, but at the same time what if something had happened? What if Derek was in trouble, what if—no one would be able to contact him. He didn’t know anyone else who knew Derek, aside from Peter, but creeper uncle didn’t have Stiles’s number—god, he hoped he didn’t, at least—but he wouldn’t think to contact him either in an emergency.
Did Stiles even warrant being contacted in an emergency? It wasn’t like he and Derek were…bonded or anything. They were friends at most, and barely at that. They hardly knew each other, when it really came down to it. How many times had they hung out? How much did they know about each other? Arguably, Stiles knew more, but that was mostly because his life was boring and he was too young to have a lot of history. And beyond that, he sort of kind of maybe had police resources at his disposal? If he found the right way to ask, at least.
But in actuality…he really didn’t have much of a right to information about Derek’s wellbeing, honestly. And that bothered him more than he was willing to admit, because, well…because if something had happened, and Derek thought he wasn’t there for him…No, that sounded selfish. Maybe it was selfish. After all, that’s what Stiles was, in a lot of ways. He always wanted what he wanted, got so fixated on it that he wouldn’t waver in his interests and would do whatever it took to get it. Just another one of those little tics that was cute when he was a child and startling as a teenager.
But was this really selfish? He just wanted to know that Derek was okay. That nothing bad had happened, though at this point he was almost hoping something had because the alternative was—the alternative was that Derek simply didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to see him, despite how well they’d left things last time. Despite what Derek had said and Stiles agreed to. No, something had to be wrong. Right?
And if it wasn’t…then Stiles was going into this ready to risk a fragile heart in the hands of someone he’d thought was careful enough to trust with it. But there was still the possibility that it was going to be shattered beyond repair. And that was a terrifying thought…
…that stopped him for about five seconds before he was out the door and down the stairs, firing up the jeep that desperately needed a new battery before he was headed off to Derek’s apartment.
Knock knock knock. A few minutes without an answer, and Stiles was starting to worry Derek wasn’t home. “Derek,” he called through the door, biting his lip as he waited for an answer, chewing on already torn skin. A bad habit, a nervous habit. He had an excuse for both right now.
“Derek.” Knock knock knock.
A minute more, and the door slid open a fraction so Stiles could see Peter, who pressed a finger to his lips to be quiet. Stiles’s brow furrowed over Bambi brown eyes, but he complied, closing his mouth, and Peter slid the door open enough to let him inside.
Voices. He could hear two voices; one was distinctly Derek’s, that grumbling baritone that he knew so well, that he felt in every fiber of his being depending on the circumstances and its tone. The other, though…the other sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it, and was definitely female. Slowly, he followed the voices to their source, in towards the back of the loft, and stopped when he saw Derek arguing passionately with the woman from the gas station. The woman who had made him so distinctly uneasy, who’d told him she was part of the new force. Rachel, right? Or something like that.
Stiles glanced behind himself as he heard the door shut, seeing Peter position himself by it, and when he turned back to Derek and the woman, it seemed that the noise had caught their attention as well, as both were looking at him. Derek seemed caught, like he couldn’t decide whether to be surprised or upset, and the woman simply looked annoyed, like Stiles was an unwanted intruder on this conversation. And meanwhile Stiles was still trying to add everything up.
The silence that followed was so unbearable that Stiles immediately spilled over with words, stammering and stumbling as he tried to explain himself. “I—you didn’t—I tried calling—you never—you didn’t answer so I—I thought maybe—did something happen? I’m sorry—but—what is she doing here?” he finally managed to get out, and the woman was the first to respond, taking a step towards him in that uncoiling way that predators had, like a jaguar stalking prey through the jungle.
She held out a hand to him, giving him the most patronizing smile he was pretty sure he’d ever seen, and said, “I think we met already. Stiles, right? I’m Kate Argent.”
Kate.
“Stiles.”
Blood was rushing in his ears, making his brain thrum with a kind of energy he hadn’t felt in a while. Not like this. Anger was a well-known emotion, but with this anger came a kind of jealousy that was more dangerous than the anger itself. It wasn’t like he was jealous of what Kate had done to Derek, of their relationship; he was just jealous that they’d ever gotten that close. And then, on top of that, he was angry with her, so goddamn angry for what she’d done to Derek, the damage she’d inflicted that made him as cautious and closed off as he was now. Stiles could imagine what Derek had been like before Kate had gotten to him, and that thought made his blood boil at the same time as it made everything hurt. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that she had the nerve to do this to Derek. Again.
“Stiles.”
Kate.
Thrum thrum thrum.
And the worst part? Was that Derek had let her in. Derek had let her in to the apartment and was talking to her, even though she’d destroyed his youth. Oh god. What if he was—no. Stiles wasn’t even going to consider it right now. He couldn’t. He had to stay focused.
Thrum thrum thrum.
Kate.
“Stiles, please.”
Stiles broke out of his own thoughts, turning to look at Derek, who had apparently been so carefully, so pleadingly calling his name. Only it hadn’t been pleadingly at all. It had been all hard edges and no emotion showing through, all his walls up because if he let himself be himself around Kate, who knew how she could use it against him. And that broke Stiles’s heart in a way that he hadn’t been prepared for.
Slowly, Stiles turned to look at Kate again, who had rescinded her hand, but was still smiling at him as if daring him to say anything, do anything, make any kind of move. She had her claws out, and was ready to move in for the kill. But she was also underestimating Stiles in this, discounting what he was willing to do to protect Derek from her. And even Stiles was surprised at how much he was already psyching himself up to do.
“You need to leave.”
That was Derek again and Stiles’s eyes flicked to him, seeing just a flash of desperation there before it was carefully covered up again. Didn’t matter. Kate’s eyes seemed to be fixed on Stiles, and his mostly on her, the two of them knowing that while this was about Derek, he wasn’t about to be able to stop it. He was too emotionally compromised to properly interfere, at least for now. And of course, Peter was the lone spectator in the stands.
“No, I think she needs to leave,” Stiles said, and he was surprised at how strong his voice sounded, how steady. So even it could almost be mistaken for certainty, and about this, he was certain. He was not the one who needed to go. She was.
Kate’s eyes narrowed in on him.
“No, Stiles. I’m asking you to leave,” Derek said in that horribly flat voice, and Stiles looked at him again, brow furrowing as his eyes darted over his features, trying to find a sign of something, anything. But Derek had always had a good poker face—because of her—and now Stiles couldn’t tell what he was thinking. What he was trying to do.
And normally, he would have trusted Derek with it. Normally, he would have believed that Derek was an adult capable of making informed decisions about his own wellbeing, but when she came into this…everything was out the window. So no. He wasn’t going to leave, even if Derek begged him to. This wasn’t okay. Derek wasn’t okay. And that was the most important thing right now.
“Yeah, Stiles. Why don’t you leave and let the adults do the talking?” Kate said, something incredibly smug in her tone, and Derek closed his eyes like that had hurt but Stiles wasn’t sure why it would have.
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” he came back with, and Derek’s eyes flew back open, their beautiful green tones clearly unsure of where to focus; on her or on Stiles, on the hurt or the surprise that was probably Stiles nearly spitting with anger, hissing with it like a very small cat met with a very big predator. Prepared to puff up to three times his size just so he could fight, because he wasn’t letting this one go down without a battle. Knockdown, drag out fight, something that Stiles wasn’t exactly experienced with but was willing to do all the same. Because that hatred had been blooming at the back of his mind ever since he learned about Kate, and now it had an outlet.
He could hear Peter laughing to himself from the back of the room, but it didn’t bother him because he was entirely fixed on Kate, who was still smiling at him, still smug about it. Like she’d scored a point and he hadn’t yet. Only he was pretty positive that they were on even footing right now.
“Stiles, I—”
“No, come on, Derek. Let him talk,” Kate said, her tone amused. “Kids do always say the darnedest things, don’t they?”
“Fuck you,” Stiles shot back, eyes narrowing in on her. “I’m not a kid, and I’m sure I have a hell of a lot more important things to say than you do.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Oh really?” came out in a purr as she took a step closer to him, Derek watching them both with something akin to terror woven into the fabric of his expression. Hidden threads that glinted when they hit the light. “And why is that, Stiles? What could you possibly have to say that’s so important?” She smirked at him, a hand on her hip as she stared him down. “Let me guess…first you’re going to tell me about how bad I am for Derek. How awful it is for me to come back here, when you know the bare basics of the situation and tried to deduce the rest like a third rate Sherlock Holmes because poor Derek here is too worried about hurting your feelings to tell you the whole of it. Then you’re going to tell me that I should get out of the apartment, get out of town, get out of his life again. You’re going to finish it off by telling me that he’s moved on, with you of all people, when really you barely know each other and don’t even have the basic foundations of a bond.” She tilted her head, smiling at him. “Is that about right, dearest? I thought so. Now get out, so we can have an adult discussion without annoying children interrupting.”
Stiles wasn’t quite sure what happened. Somewhere in between the start and the finish of Kate’s little speech, he’d shut down, the blood starting to rush in his head again and making it hard to hear, hard to speak, hard to breathe.
Thrum thrum thrum.
Kate.
Thrum thrum thrum.
He came to just as Derek was separating them, and Stiles realized that there was blood under his nails and Kate’s face was scratched up and his own face was pounding right by his right eye and oh god oh god Derek looked so upset and he was pushing him out and he’d done something terrible and oh no please no Derek—
Stiles took off running, Peter smoothly opening the door for him so he could get through, and trembled his way down the stairs, spilling out onto the pavement in front of Derek’s building. He dropped his keys the first three times he tried to hold them, finally clutching them so tightly that the alarm started going off, panic button accidentally crushed by his palm. He quickly unlocked the jeep, climbed in, and tore out of the parking lot as fast as he could, making it halfway home before he had to pull over, tears blurring his vision so badly he couldn’t drive.
So. That was Kate.
***
There was only a second after Stiles left where Derek could make his decision, and he made it quickly. He’d tend to Kate first, then go after Stiles. After all, Stiles had seemed so goddamned panicked when he ran out, he probably wouldn’t be in great shape to talk to just yet. Not that Kate was doing much better, honestly.
He set the first aid kit down on the table for her, but didn’t offer to help her tend to the scratches, his arms crossed against his chest. He wasn’t going to make things any easier for her, because while, yes, she had just been attacked, she had provoked Stiles. Not to mention their shared history.
They didn’t speak for a minute, Kate tending to her injuries and Derek to his own internal ones. Finally, she spoke. “It’s a rush, isn’t it?” She didn’t look up at him as she spoke, instead still staring at her reflection in the compact mirror she’d pulled from her bag.
Derek’s eyes narrowed, always expecting another trick, another hit from her. “What is?” he asked, voice cautious, careful in this minefield.
“The control. The fact that he would hurt someone else just for you, even if it goes against what he normally does, what he’s told to do, what he thinks he should do. Young minds are so easy to mold, aren’t they?” Her eyes flashed up to his, a smile playing on familiar lips, and that was it. He’d had enough.
“Get out, Kate,” he said, surprisingly calmly. “Get out of my apartment, out of town, out of my life. You did get one thing right. I’m sure that’s exactly what he was going to say, so since you took that opportunity away from him, I’m going to say it to you instead.”
“Oh, come on, Derek,” she said, pouting at him, and he resisted the urge to growl. “Your jailbait Omega is rubbing off on you. Where’s the Alpha we all know and love? The one that used to be so devoted to me? Or, oh, is that it? You’ve decided to be on the other end of the rope? Found your own little toy to play with, someone young and fresh and easy to mold?” She laughed, and it wasn’t a pretty sound. “Cute.”
She snapped her compact shut, tucking it back into her bag, and stood, smiling at him. “I’ll leave, then, Derek. I’ll get out of your life. But only because I finally have respect for you if you’re doing this to him. Turning an ex into an opportunity. Clever boy.”
Belatedly, he batted her hand away as she pinched his cheek condescendingly, and with a smile and a lingering hint of her perfume and pheromones, she left the loft, Peter sliding the door shut behind her.
“Oh, dear nephew,” Peter said, something terribly, superficially sympathetic in his tone, “it seems you’ve gotten yourself into quite the situation. And here I thought I was the only one with these sort of entanglements.”
“Peter, kindly shut the fuck up,” Derek said, but it lacked his usual venom towards his uncle, something tired in his tone. Something weary. He was tired. He wanted to go after Stiles, but he was tired and weary and knew somewhere, deep down, that Kate had at least been right about one thing. He was just as bad as she was if he pursued Stiles, because Stiles was too young and god, Derek didn’t want to hurt anyone the way Kate had hurt him. But already, he had, hadn’t he? Considering how Stiles had just acted. What he’d just done. And all for Derek.
Fuck.