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Stiles has saved Derek’s life five times, and taken care of him when he was injured or sick four times. Not that he’s counting, of course. (He is).
There’s the obvious cases - throwing a molotov cocktail at Peter, holding Derek up in a pool for two hours, distracting Deucalion just long enough for Derek to escape. Then there’s the less obvious ones - keeping Scott on track while they tried to find the witch that had cursed Derek, or intercepting information about a pack of assassin-style hunters just before they come into town with the intention of collecting an Alpha’s pelt. Caring for Derek pretty much speaks for itself, though Stiles is never sure how much Derek really remembers of the aftermath of wolfsbane poisoning or Alpha-induced injuries.
Still, the point is that Stiles has put a hell of a lot of effort into keeping Derek alive, and he’s not about to let the foolhardy Alpha waste that by throwing himself into a fight that he can’t possibly win. Especially not when all it will take to succeed is just waiting a few hours for the support Stiles has called in to arrive.
But Derek apparently doesn’t believe in support or in waiting, and he’s champing at the bit to go get himself killed. The only thing holding him back is the fact that Stiles has become damn good at lying to werewolves. Making “I have something you need to know before you go” sound like it’s related to the latest and greatest evil terrorizing Beacon Hills (seriously, though, who though flying monkeys were a good idea) when Stiles really means it as something personal isn’t particularly difficult.
The only problem is that when Derek turns to look at him exipectantly, Stiles blanks on what he can say that will get Derek to stay at the house for a few hours. He manages to stammer something out about needing to collect a particular herb, hoping that Derek will read the blips in his heartbeat as nervousness and fear from having forgotten his kit.
When Derek just looks irritated rather than angry, Stiles spins a bit fuller of an excuse, saying that there’s a particular potion that will bring the monkeys down (literally). That much isn’t a lie - he just doesn’t mention the fact that it’s already been created and is being brought down to Beacon Hills by Lydia and Allison, who had left with Deaton three days ago to collect the last ingredients. They texted him an hour ago saying that they were on their way back, so now all he has to do is keep their Alpha from killing himself before they arrive along with a full complement of friendly hunters.
Derek huffs and puffs at him and Stiles doesn’t manage to get him to just stay at the house, but the Alpha does stick by his side when they go to Stiles’ house to pick up the supposed herbs for the potion. Stiles even manages to convince him to stay while he mixes up what he will tell Derek is the necessary potion. It’s actually a version of Lydia’s early molotov cocktails, with additional herbs to make it extra effective on supernatural creatures. It’ll still help in the battle, though Stiles knows he’ll have to give it to Allison and tell her to make sure she uses it after the other potion for maximum efficiency.
He chose the fire potion specifically because he knew that it took two hours for the herbs to fully integrate. Derek starts getting antsy after about an hour, but Stiles doesn’t dare let him out of his sight for long. Instead, he sends the Alpha down to the basement of the house to gather both a stockpile of weapons and two bottles of specially formulated oil. He makes sure that Derek puts on heavy gloves and then gets him to oil each of the bladed weapons. The oil isn’t really dangerous unless it gets in the bloodstream of a supernatural creature, but Stiles isn’t going to take any chances. His worry seems to impress upon Derek the potential danger of his task, so the Alpha sits quietly at the table and focuses.
Both the potion and Derek’s makeshift task are done just about the time Lydia and Allison are due back in town, but after a few minutes of delay, Stiles finds himself straining a cooled potion while still waiting to hear them coming up the front steps. He dawdles in making sure the mixture is strained properly, then in corking it, but he’s out of ideas and Derek is getting incredibly impatient, if the red tint to his eyes is anything to go by.
“Let’s go, Stiles,” he growls when Stiles checks his bag for the third time, and he’s already halfway to the door by the time Stiles looks up. Stiles casts around desperately for something, anything, to stop Derek from doing what he knows he’s about to do. There’s nothing coming to his mind, and he finally snaps.
“Just stop,” he barks, sharply enough that Derek actually does, turning around with his hand on the door handle to stare in shock at Stiles. Stiles feels like slumping against the counter, overwhelmed by what he’s doing, but he has to focus on saving Derek from himself, and he knows that if he lets himself relax at all, Derek won’t listen to him.
“Sit down,” he commands instead, holding himself ramrod straight. Derek lets go of the door handle and turns, slowly but surely, as though he’s waiting for Stiles to give in. For his part, Stiles keeps a stern look on his face, glaring Derek into submission, watching him until he’s seated at the kitchen table.
“Five times, Derek,” he says, and holds up a hand when Derek looks confused. “I’ve saved your life five times. Three of them because you threw yourself into a situation without getting proper back up. I’m not letting you do it again. You owe me, and I’m calling in that favour. Lydia and Allison are on their way. They should be here soon. You are going to sit there and wait patiently and quietly until they get here, and then you’re going to take the back up they bring rather than rushing off on your own. Am I clear?” He’s breathing hard, his heart in his throat, but he holds Derek’s eyes until the red bleeds out of them and the Alpha nods, pulling his claws out of the back of the chair in order to lace his hands together in his lap like a contrite child.
Stiles takes advantage of Derek's apparent willingness to listen to text the girls and request an update on their location. They're not even fifteen minutes late, so he surreptitiously takes a picture of Derek's cowed expression and sends it along with a very brief explanation of what he's been going through while watching the Alpha.
Derek shifts slightly when Stiles puts down the phone, looking up with a hopeful expression. Stiles forces a scowl onto his face, figuring it's the closest he's going to get to intimidating.
"Unless you're about to tell me that you need to go to the restroom, you're not going to be getting out of that chair until I say otherwise," Stiles tells him sternly, and tries not to feel too happy about the way Derek subsides quickly. He's not happy about the fact that he's controlling Derek, not beyond the initial rush of telling the Alpha what to do at least, but about the fact that he's apparently figured out at least one way to keep Derek from running off into danger on his own. Still, it's clear that not being allowed to do anything is getting to Derek and Stiles doesn't want to seem to be enjoying the Alpha's discomfort. He does like having all his parts where they belong, after all.
Allison texts him back after a few minutes, telling him that they are almost there, just delayed by a few unexpected traffic jams. Stiles hands the phone over to Derek wordlessly, letting the Alpha see for himself that he won’t have to wait long before he’s free to throw himself into battle like a brainless berserker. Derek frowns but doesn’t say anything, simply passing Stiles the phone with a brief nod. Stiles nods back, tucking his phone back into his pocket and leaning comfortably against the kitchen counter. He closes his eyes and focuses on the sounds coming from the front of the house, though he knows that Derek will hear any arrivals long before he does.
The Alpha does indeed perk up long moments before Allison, Lydia, and the group of hunters actually show up, his eagerness to get going managing to make him look just the littlest bit like a happy puppy. Stiles bites his lip to keep the observation in check, then sighs at Derek.
“OK, fine, you can get up, but no leaving until Allison and Lydia are actually here and we come up with something resembling a plan.” Derek jumps to his feet and rushes to the front door, leaving Stiles to follow at a more sedate pace. Stiles isn’t expecting Derek to be waiting at the door, rather than on the front porch or maybe even in the driveway, so he nearly walks right into the Alpha, only stopping because he notices Derek’s shadow falling over him.
“Stiles,” Derek says, drawing Stiles’ eyes up to his face. “I... I think I still owe you at least one.” He flushes slightly, dipping his head. “I’m pretty sure you doing this saved my life again.” He looks up at Stiles bashfully, then darts forward and presses a quick kiss to the human’s lips, before spinning and heading through the front door. Stiles blinks, shocked, then breaks into a small smile.
“You’re welcome, Sourwolf,” he says affectionately, knowing that Derek can hear him even through the door. “And don’t think for a second that we’re not going to talk about this once we’re done dealing with those monkeys.”