Work Text:
"You… you write porn," Derek accused as his eyes scanned the Word document on Stiles' laptop.
Stiles shrieked, eyes bulged out as he flailed his limbs forward, trying to snatch his laptop out of Derek's hands.
He failed.
The wolf had raised the laptop above his head, out of his reach, unmovable as the teen tried helplessly to save face. He jumped, and tickled, and punched steel skin, before finally giving up, exhaling roughly. "I write fanfiction, not porn."
Derek popped an eyebrow. "What the fuck is fanfiction?"
Stiles crossed his arms defensively, "Fanfiction, dude. Fans writing stories about their favorite fandom – shows, books, movies, comic books, and so forth."
Derek still looked confused. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I have feelings about Spike and Angel I need to express, okay. And this is the only way I know how, can you please just-" he motioned for Derek to lower his computer, to which the older man complied. "-thank you." He sighed, eyeing Derek warily.
"But. You wrote about them having sex. You wrote about two guys, having sex," Derek said, staggered.
Stiles gulped. "Didn't take you for a homophobe, Hale."
"I-I'm not. That's not what I'm saying, I just. I didn't know you were-" He stopped himself, not actually wanting to go there.
Stiles tightened his arms, his jaw setting in angrily. "Yeah, well. We're not friends or anything. You don't need to know anything about my personal life, let alone my sexuality."
Derek sighed. "You're in my pack, Stiles. Yeah, you're pretty much there by default, but it's not like I completely hate you."
Stiles uncrossed himself and jabbed a finger at the older man's chest, "Noticed how you emphasized completely? You hate me, you admit me."
Derek grimaced. "I-I should've worded that differently. Sorry, okay? I don't hate you at all. Sure you annoy me, a lot. Too much, even."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, totally convinced me with that one," he retorted sarcastically.
"Whatever!" Derek threw his arms out, "You're right. I don't need to know anything about you whatsoever. Didn't need to know who or what gets you off, because I don't care about you at all. You mean nothing to me. Happy?" He knew he didn't mean any of it, but why did Stiles have to act like an annoying little brat. He scoffed as an afterthought.
Stiles swallowed, his worst fears now affirmed, tears threatened to spill out, "Get out."
Derek opened his mouth, about to protest when the teen shouted, clearer, more defiant, "Get out! Leave! Now!"
Derek stared at him, perplexed. "No."
Stiles couldn't bear to let Derek see him cry, to see what sort of emotion he evoked in him, so he turned around, letting the tears stream freely. He didn't want Derek to find out this way. He didn't want Derek to find out, period. It's bad enough he has to hide it from his Dad, his best friend and the entire school, he didn't need the one person he had a silly crush on knowing something so personal, so life-defining.
Derek breathed in, tasting the tangy salt in the air, and hearing Stiles quietly sniffle. He was crying. He made him cry. I'm such an asshole. "Stiles," he pleaded softly. The teen didn't turn around, just bowed his head further down. Defeated.
He should've left, should've stood back. But instead he reached out and let his hand rest on the teen's shoulder, hearing Stiles let out a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry," he tried, earnestly.
Stiles rubbed at his eyes, pulling at his shirt to wipe away the tears. He shrugged Derek's hand off and turned around, reddening eyes boring holes into the wolf. "I said. Get. Out."
Derek's whole body tensed up and he let out a small gasp. The boy in front of him looked like a mess. Tear stricken cheeks, and eyes that bellowed at him wrathfully. He shook his head 'no'. He couldn't leave him like this, this broken down shell of the spritely boy he knew. Knew and cared for.
"Just leave, Derek. You made your point loud and clear," he demanded yet again.
"I didn't mean any of it, Stiles," he whispered, hoping that'd calm the boy down, "Honestly, it was the heat of the moment. I-I do care about you, a lot. You're not just in my pack by default. You're in it because we need you to be in it, I need you to be in it."
Stiles swallowed down the huge lump that got caught in his throat. He was no werewolf, but he could tell Derek wasn't lying. He eyed him suspiciously, before sighing, "Don't tell anyone. I plan on doing it, but. I'm not ready, not yet."
Derek nodded, "I understand. Just so you know, though, I'm fine with it. Completely. "
Stiles managed a small smile. "Good to know."
Both guys stood in the middle of the teen's room in discomfited silence, Derek nervously looked around while Stiles shuffled his feet.
"So, uh, yeah. I write porn." Stiles grinned.
Derek grinned back, "I knew it."