Work Text:
Working out. Every day. That was what Derek did, and he did it well and it kept him prepared for so many things that were probably yet to come. But let’s face it, it couldn’t prepare him for everything.
Like the kanima’s venom that had paralyzed him more than once.
Or the various kinds of wolf’s bane that could put him out for a while or even kill him.
Or the feeling of failure, of guilt, of wanting to make up for what he did to his family. It was there, constantly, and it ate him up. It was his fault his family was killed that night. Because he was weak and had given in to his lust.
And he sure as hell wouldn’t let that happen again.
Laura had been a great sister to him, she had been the only one left to care for him, and she really had cared. She was the one who’d kept him fed, who’d left him messages at the fridge (with a little heart after her name), who’d wrapped him into a blanket after he’d once been crying for hours and was so exhausted from it that he passed out right beside his bed.
And still, after all she’d done for him, he never even thought he deserved a spot in his own room. Maybe she’d only cared for him because he was the only one she had left of this big family they once were? Yeah, probably. There was actually no chance she’d have still loved him like a brother after what he’d done. And it was okay. Because she didn’t have to and he understood, because he hated himself probably more than she’d done already.
And still, even though he’d kept telling himself that he should stay away from her, Derek had not left his sister, because he knew that she couldn’t have borne being alone. He’d heard her cry at night, more than once, and never had he been able to approach her, pat her head and say that it’s okay to cry, because who was he, trying to dry her tears over his own killing?
A couple of dead-lifts.
He’d had trouble containing himself during the full moon, before the fire. Of course, his family had been a great support and they’d tried to help him find his anchor, but nothing he’d ever felt had been strong enough. Not even the love for his closest kin.
Now his anchor was anger. Not at Kate, no. He was angry at himself, for giving in to his animal side. For giving in to his lust for this woman he didn’t even know.
He’d sworn to himself that he’d never ever lose control over himself again. Not like this.
He’d fought the urge to shift during the full moon. He’d rejected the blood lust, the greedy need for kill. He resisted. Always thinking about Laura and his uncle and how he had ruined their lives and how he had ended so many others’.
One push-up. Two push-ups. Twenty two. Thirty seven.
Workout kept him at bay. It handled the amount of adrenaline in his body, it cleared his mind, gave him time to think.
Whenever this guy, Stiles, opened his mouth, Derek felt like smashing something. It wasn’t like he hated him. It was because this man reminded him of his sister. That overly protective attitude, trying to ignore the problem until it eventually just goes away, a little sarcastic comment every now and then. And now that Laura was… no longer with him, no longer cared for him even though he hated himself for it, it was hard for Derek to contain himself whenever he was reminded of her.
The only thing that he couldn’t give up, that reminded him of the home his sister had provided him, was her Camaro. The smell inside (there was still that stain of old sauerkraut in the air), her sunglasses in the glove compartment, or even the 74 cents and a cinema ticket under the driver’s seat. Sometimes he slept in that car. He had for quite a while in fact, when he came back to Beacon Hills and after mind-shattering nightmares of screaming children and roaring fires had shaken him back to consciousness during his first night back in the house.
Seventeen pull-ups. Forty one. Pause. Breathe.
Stiles, the most irritating person in this town, when he was so much like his sister, but at the same time wasn’t. He cared for everyone, for his father, for Scott, even for Derek’s DIY “pack”. He tried the best he could to keep up with everyone in this situation while he should just stay back and focus on not getting hurt. But he willingly got himself into trouble to win the slightest bit of time for his friends.
He had the weirdest crush on a girl everybody knew he was never gonna get, and still he refused to give up. And even more, he was willing to give up his own happiness to see her getting back with that douche. Stiles knew just as much as Derek what loss really meant and he was rather willing to ruin his own happiness and see the people he loved happy, than forcing them to be with him and make them experience what losing someone was really about.
Stiles wasn’t just a boy, despite his age. If anything like a soul really existed, his was old and broken and put back together, but still missing pieces. Not the one of an innocent child. And despite all the cracks and missing parts, he managed to even care for an asshole like Derek.
Sit-ups. One after the other. Sweat running down his bare chest. It was hot in here. Or it actually wasn’t, Derek knew it was just his body heating up from the constant friction of muscles.