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It’s putting him in danger.
Stiles has been kidnapped three times in the past four months, because Derek’s the Alpha, and it’s so obvious that he and Stiles are together. Their scents seemed perfectly mixed, and Stiles was always covered head to toe in hickeys. To the rest of the pack, it was obvious they were mates, but Derek refused to claim Stiles formally until he was eighteen. (Which was one of the hardest things to do ever, considering Stiles writhing beneath him, begging for his knot)
He’s glad he didn’t now.
Otherwise this would be too hard.
He has to.
He has to.
Stiles beams when he jumps in through the window, cross-legged on his bed. He’s wearing his batman pyjamas. His hairs been cut recently, and the buzz cut is so reminiscent to the day he first met him that Derek can barely hide his smile. Stiles’ laptop is set at the end of the bed, the latest Game of Thrones episode all loaded up on Netflix. ‘Hey,’ he whispers, patting the spot next to him, and Derek’s heart aches
‘We need to talk, Stiles,’
Stiles immediately smells worried ‘is everything okay?’
‘I wanna break up with you,’
Stiles stares at him, amber-brown eyes confused as he cocks his head ‘huh?’
‘I don’t want to see you anymore.’
‘Is someone making you say this, Der? Just tell me, it’s okay, we can do this-‘ he kneels on the bed, looking soft and hopeful, one arm half-outstretched towards him. To make him feel better and okay.
‘No Stiles. I don’t want to see you anymore, that’s it.’ Derek says harshly, and Stiles’ heartbeat quickens
‘Why?’ He whispers, eyes wide ‘I thought things were going well…I thought we were happy. I thought you were happy,’ he offers a small laugh ‘Derek! What’s wrong?’
He rubs his temples ‘Stiles, I’m being serious. I don’t want to be with you anymore.’
Finally Stiles pauses to take him in. And his sweet smell of sugar and strawberries, apricots and cream, coffee and dark chocolate, smells of hurt and confusion. He frowns ‘but…why?’
Derek doesn’t want to do this. Every instinct screams not too, his wolf is howling and crying within him. He takes a breath, and readies every insecurity he knows about Stiles. Everything that will hurt. Every bit of information he’s been trusted with. Hurt him. Hurt him to save him. One day, he won’t get there in time to save his love. One day Stiles will die, and it will be all Derek’s fault, and this is better for everyone. ‘You’re not part of the pack,’ he lies, and Stiles drops down onto his heels, staring up at him
‘What?’ He whispers, and Derek knows if this was anyone else, Stiles would argue back, but this is Derek, and Stiles just listens
‘You…cling around me, all the time. It’s annoying, and I need space.’
‘Space.’ Stiles nods once, ‘I can give you space, I swear.’ He nods more vigorously ‘What else? I can change, I’ll do it,’ he’s tapping his fingers distractedly against his thighs ‘anything you want, I’ll change-‘
Don’t change. Derek thinks please never change. ‘You can’t change, Stiles. I just don’t want you anymore.’ Do it. Do it. ‘Maybe I never did.’
Stiles made a wounded sound in the back of his throat, shoulders slumped in dismay, the scent of utter hurt clouding everything.
Derek needs Stiles to move on. But he can’t have him think that. He can’t. His wolf is howling, yearning to take care of his mate. ‘Stiles.’
His boy looks up, eyes shining and wet in the moonlight, lips parted in anguish ‘it’s okay.’ Stiles nods, hiccupping ‘it’s okay. If it’s what you want…’ he reaches his hand out, but Derek doesn’t take it ‘I just want you to be happy.’
His wolf is whining. Derek loves this boy. And that’s why he can’t. Stiles needs to be alive forever. ‘Goodbye.’ Is what Derek manages, and he’s just out the window when he hears Stiles burst into loud sobs, that he tries to stifle in his pillow.
‘Stiles?’ Derek hears the Sheriff come in ‘Son, what’s wrong?’
‘Everything,’ Stiles cries, and his Father wraps his arms around him.
Stiles stops coming to pack meetings.
No one can really concentrate without him, which is ironic considering Stiles was always the most distracting one. Scott still sees him, they hang out at school, but Stiles apparently told him of Derek’s decision, and Scott disagrees (if the scathing looks of hatred are anything to go by) but says nothing.
It’s been three months.
Stiles’ scent has faded from Derek. From everything. It lingers barely on Scott, but Derek needs that to keep going.
Three months.
And then another three months.
The pack doesn’t get better, but it does its job.
6 months since Stiles pressed his freezing toes under Derek’s thighs, or ordered a foot massage. Six months since Stiles rests his head in Derek’s lap, and wants his head rubbed. Six months since filthy kisses and grinding and sex. Six months since Stiles text him every night, asking if he’s okay, saying goodnight and that he misses him. Six months since he snuck in through the window to watch Game of Thrones and just be. Six months since Stiles.
And then he gets kidnapped.
Derek doesn’t know why.
Stiles should have no connection to the pack now, he shouldn’t be a target, but they’re running to an abandoned house, where his entire pack are growling because Stiles is beaten and bloody, and still grinning like a fool when they peer around the door, hidden.
‘Do it!’ The woman commands, and Stiles chokes a laugh
‘Look at me lady, no torture device worked, why would you yelling do anything?’ He rolls his neck with a grimace of pain. He’s covered in blood and dirt but he seems okay. Mostly okay.
‘I know what you are.’ She hisses, and Stiles frowns
‘What I am?’
‘A witch.’ She grits her teeth ‘the magic is pouring off you! They must have known!’ She leans down before him, looking suddenly eager ‘you’re a witch, Stiles Stilinski. Magic runs through your blood, and let me tell you, I know lots of witches, and they have nothing on your potential. You have to be trained, to be harnessed-‘
‘Lady, I am human! Human! Homo-sapien!’
The woman rushes towards the door, and the pack freeze, but she’s just grabbing a book, a thick dusty book, and she thrusts it at Stiles who makes a point of looking down at his bound hands. She slices the rope none to carefully, nicking Stiles’ wrists so the scent of blood stings the air. ‘Open it. I can’t, I can’t, only a witch could open this. Only someone with magic could even read the words on the page. But you must know! You must have known!’ She’s desperate, jittery, but human. ‘Didn’t you feel it Stiles? The need to look up information, no matter how random it was?’
Stiles holds the book, shaking. It opens, and he reads the first line. And then he whispers it aloud, a feeling deep within him awakening. Gold shimmers around him for a moment, and there’s a shift in his scent, it smells addictive and pure, like blossoming roses. He shines. He activates. The witch within him finally awake. Stiles closes the book, and stares at her ‘What do you want?’ He asks, and the woman bows her head. She’s crying.
‘I lost my baby,’ she holds a hand over her flat stomach ‘I searched everywhere. I want her back.’
Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, gold shines around him, and when they open again he looks sad ‘I can’t. I don’t know how I know I can’t, but I can’t. I have a lot to learn,’ he clutches the book ‘but there’s no way. I’m so sorry.’
The woman just falls to her knees crying, and Stiles presses a hand to her shoulder, and magic glides off him, and she falls asleep.
The pack rush in then, and Derek stands back and watches as Stiles is hugged and accepted and there are no excuses now. He’s back in the pack. Scott hurls himself at him, and Stiles laughs.
Derek only watches in awe.
And he hates himself.
Stiles is capable of defending himself now. He’s strong, not fragile, and Derek just wants to yell at himself.
With time, Stiles gets better at his magic.
Stronger, faster, more able to control it. There was a patch of time that whenever he fell over (which was a lot) that fire and lightening would be summoned over everyone near him.
It’s been a year.
Derek smells him when Stiles knocks on the door of his apartment, and he opens it warily. He and Stiles haven’t spoken despite Stiles’ presence in the pack. Stiles is smiling shyly, his hair is longer now, soft looking, tousled up. He’s wearing an Iron Man t-shirt and tight jeans with scuffed trainers and a grey cardigan. He looks soft and happy
‘H-Hey Derek,’ he says, swallowing
And Derek wants to pull him close. There’s no reason for them not to be together now. ‘Stiles,’ he steps back, inviting him, and Stiles looks around. He knows the apartment inside out, but he feels a bit like a stranger.
‘I brought Game of Thrones?’ He waves it around, and Derek closes the door
‘Stiles-‘
‘Erica explained.’ Stiles says quickly, eyes downcast ‘that…that you were doing it to keep me safe. That you didn’t mean anything you said that night. And I just…I want us to be friends again? Please?’ He risks a look up, those amber-brown eyes wide and hopeful ‘I’ve missed you.’
Friends. Friends. His inner-wolf spits at the term. He wants Stiles as his mate, as his forever, but he knows this is better than he could have hoped. Stiles is here, reaching out and working for Derek, when it should be Derek who went to him in apology, who fell to his knees begging.
Instead he nods, and they settle on the sofa to watch Game of Thrones.
Time passes, and most evenings Stiles will show up, holding a DVD or a board game, and Derek will beckon him in.
It goes like that for maybe two months, before Derek goes into Stiles’ room. Swinging in through the window, he sees Stiles hunched over his desk, reading the book. He’s read it, memorised it, been given others on witches, and knows nearly all there is to know. He spends his spare time learning spells but Stiles says it isn’t about learning spells off by heart. It’s about feeling it, feeling it in your blood.
He turns, delighted at Derek’s arrival ‘look!’ he beams, and clicks his fingers, and a flame hovers above his hand, and Derek wants to kiss him.
‘Amazing,’ he says honestly, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair. Looking around the room he hasn’t been in for so long. It’s the same. Exactly the same. That comforts him.
‘Where are you off to?’ Derek frowns, as Stiles stands in front of the mirror, glaring at his reflection like he doesn’t like what he sees. Which Derek thinks it preposterous.
‘Date with Mitch,’ Stiles says, carding his fingers through his hair, unaware to how Derek’s blood boils, and his wolf snarls. Stiles is wearing tight jeans and a red ironman shirt with a blue striped cardigan. And he looks gorgeous, and the perfect contrast to Derek’s black and leather.
‘The Deputy?’
Stiles shoots him a wink ‘I like older guys,’ he says, and Derek clenches his fist. He’s lying on Stiles’ bed, they’re close now. Not close enough, evidently.
Derek follows them.
Feeling like a creeper, but watching as Mitch pulls cheesy moves. Arm wrapping around Stiles as a yawn. When they get outside, he pins Stiles to his car, and starts kissing his throat. Stiles seems more reluctant, but then Mitchell is whispering something into Stiles’ ear
‘Don’t be a prude, Stiles. Come on,’ he drives his hips forward ‘who else is gonna want you?’
Stiles’ cheeks flush with anger and he shoves Mitch away. ‘I don’t know! But I’d rather be alone forever than with a douchebag like you! And also an asshole! Asshole!’ Stiles flips him the bird, before turning and walking away. Mitch stares, eyes wide in disbelief, but also in admiration. Stiles has impressed him.
‘Call me!’ He calls uselessly.
Derek growls.
They’re watching X-Men when Stiles rests his head on Derek’s lap, sleepy and content ‘massage,’ he orders, and Derek smiles, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair as the eighteen year old purrs. They sit like that for maybe fifteen minutes before Stiles turns away from the tv, head still on his lap, and looks up with wide eyes ‘Do I not make you hard anymore?’ He asks, and Derek chokes on air
‘What?!’ He manages
And Stiles smiles softly ‘I’ve been trying to get you hard all night, Der,’ He moves his hand which had been tucked up by his ear to graze against Derek’s dick. Derek hadn’t even realised. So pre-occupied with the smell of Stiles, and the thrill of having him here. Stiles sits up, wets his lips ‘It’s okay if I don’t, I underst-‘
Derek kisses him.
Hard and unyielding, and it escalates quickly. Until Stiles is naked and shaking on top of him, riding his dick as Derek partially wolfs out.
He knots Stiles, and consummates the bond.
Stiles cries out above him, fire alighting along his shoulders as Derek’s wolf howls.
‘Stiles!’ Derek cries out as he comes, partially as a moan of contentment but also concern ‘Stiles, your magic!’
Stiles slumps against Derek, and the flames turns blue and harmless, until they temper down into nothing. ‘’m yours,’ Stiles murmurs sleepily into Derek’s neck ‘and you’re mine. Forever.’
‘I’m so sorry I ever hurt you. I never stopped wanting you. Needing you.’ He grades his beard across Stiles’ neck ‘I hate myself for leaving you.’
‘Dude, you wanted me alive, I get it,’
‘Don’t call me dude,’
Stiles smiles, wriggling further onto the knot in contentment, jolting another spurt of hot cum from Derek, as he closes his eyes ‘love you too, sourwolf.’