Work Text:
Everyone knows Stiles can be salty as hell, especially when he’s reminded that despite being a spark, he is still very much human. Most of the Pack had learned not to point out his humanity, but sometimes they forgot. Honestly, Scott forgot. Derek shook his head as he crouched in the tree, watching the two best friends face off in the middle of the clearing.
“C’mon, dude, I said I was sorry!” Scott snapped; his voice was tight.
“For what?” Stiles asked. He pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows while waiting for Scott’s response.
“For…pissing you off,” Scott said, sounding uncertain. It seemed that Scott had finally realized the severity of the situation.
Stiles snorted and turned away from Scott. He took a couple of steps. Scott let out a whine, stilling Stiles’ forward momentum. “What’s the matter, Scott? Do you need the feeble human’s help?”
Derek smirked, trying to hold back his laugh at the bite in Stiles’ tone. He knew that Scott wasn’t in any real danger, but he was enjoying the situation more than he probably should. He knew that if he didn’t keep it quiet, he’d be dealing with an extra-whiny Scott when everything was said and done.
“I mean, really? You don’t need me. Having me around will only be, what did you say, ‘a distraction’? So, I think I’m going to do like you requested and go back home and watch a movie or something.” Derek shook his head when Stiles glanced up to where he was sitting. Mere human or not, he could always find Derek with unerring accuracy.
Stiles walked away again, and Derek had to laugh at how Scott tried to grab for him, but the mountain ash ring surrounding him thwarted the gesture. Derek hadn’t witnessed how Stiles had trapped Scott, but he had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with Stiles. Thankfully, the evil they were chasing through the preserve that night would not be able to cross the line any more than the wolves.
Derek stayed in the tree, wondering how long Stiles would let Scott sulk. Leaning back against the trunk, Derek relaxed, keeping his hearing open for any trouble. There was still a monster on the loose, and Stiles was only human. Derek sat up when he heard a twig snap behind him. He turned carefully not to disturb the branches, nearly falling when he came face to face with a smirking Stiles.
“So, are you keeping an eye on Scott or me?” Stiles asked.
Derek knew there was only one correct answer. “Scott. Was afraid his ego would get himself into trouble.” That wasn’t a complete lie; Scott had been feeling pretty invincible lately and was liable to make mistakes.
Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes. “Sure.” Stiles moved to settle next to Derek on the branch.
“How long are you going to leave him there?”
“I have no immediate plans for his freedom,” Stiles responded flatly, and Derek winced, knowing he meant it.
“The monster is still out there,” Derek pointed out. Stiles shrugged and gestured in a circular motion to indicate the mountain ash.
“He needs to stop underestimating me.”
“He doesn’t underestimate you. He worries about you,” Derek pointed out.
“You worry about me, but you never tell me to stay home,” Stiles argued.
“If I thought I could avoid an attack of Sir Stiles the Salty, I would tie you to your desk chair every time we go on a hunt.” Derek could feel Stiles’ anger growing, and he held out a hand. “I have faced things that would give Dementors nightmares, and nothing has come close to terrifying me as much as you when you’re pissed.”
Stiles snorted and shook his head. “You just know that you won’t get laid if you piss me off,” he said, shoving at Derek.
“That, too,” Derek agreed, laughing.
“I can hear you, too!” Scott shouted. “Please stop before I vomit!”
“Jealous much?” Stiles shouted down at Scott, but he waved his fingers, and the mountain ash surrounding Scott dispersed, flying towards Stiles and into the glass vial he pulled out of the pocket of his flannel shirt. Scott was off and running as soon as the line broke, muttering unkindly about Stiles.
Stiles raised his eyebrows and wiggled his fingers. The mountain ash started moving again, this time forming into the shape of a large bird that chased after Scott. “Stiles…” Derek started.
“It’ll just chase him home,” Stiles said with a shrug before dropping out of the tree. Derek moved more quickly and managed to catch him before he could hit the ground. “You did not just do that because you thought I couldn’t handle it, did you?”
Derek snorted. “No, sir. I just wanted to get us home as fast as possible,” he responded, pressing a kiss to Stiles' head before breaking into a sprint. “No need to sick Sir Stiles on me.”
Stiles let out a peal of laughter before ducking his head into Derek’s neck and hanging on for the ride. “Sir Stiles the Salty,” he whispered, giggling against Derek’s skin.