Incubus Strikes Again

by LS_5Ever

Summary:

5 times Stiles and Derek have to pretend to be in a relationship and one time they didn’t pretend.

Or, Stiles gets stalked, Derek knows how to stop this happening. Both of them take advantage of the fact that them being physical with each other is the answer to this problem.

——————————

“You don’t smell like - “ Derek paused, “ - pack.” A chest rumbled under Stiles, obviously unhappy.

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles huffed, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I met a guy - “

Derek pulled away faster than he would if someone would have plunged a wolfsbane infused knife in his back.

“ - at the bookstore.” Stiles finished his sentence. “I guess he was a bit handsy?”

——————————

“You can’t get all 1920’s pre marital on me now Derek.” Stiles rolled his eyes, and John really wished he hadn’t just heard that and its implications. “Not after what we’ve already done. This was your idea.”

Scratch that, John wished he hadn’t heard that.

Notes:

This fic is literally just an excuse for them to touch each other and act like they’re in love. It’s not a very serious fic, but was quite fun to write. Spelling etc has not been properly checked other than a quick run through, so apologies for any errors.

Chapter 1: Getting Together

Stiles knew from almost the first time he met him that he was gone on a certain alpha. Thats’s why, when a man showed up looking very average, guy-next-door, forgettable like, he didn’t realise that it was an incubus.

 

—————————————————————————————

 

“Just that one please.” Stiles said, trying to be nonchalant whilst buying the old, leather book which would hopefully serve both him and his pack with answers in the future, if an unknown situation arises. He had been looking for this particular volume for quite a while now, knowing that there weren’t that many copies. He couldn’t believe his luck when he walked into the Beacon Hills bookstore and saw it thrown haphazardly in the ‘To Sort’ pile. Stiles had been coming to this store for as long as he can remember, and then boom, what he needs has just fallen into his lap. His luck is never this good.

 

“It’s on me.” A voice came from behind him. Stiles turned, frowning at a blonde-haired, 6 foot something (Stiles was guessing, comparing him to a certain tall, dark and handsome) young man.

 

“Oh no, don’t worry about that. I can pay for it.” Stiles answered, nodding his head as a passing thanks.

 

“Please, think of it as good karma.” The man said. “Pass it on to the next person you see, if that makes you more comfortable.”

 

Stiles stopped in his effort to hand the money to the cashier, suddenly feeling very calm. When had the guys eyes gone from something murky, spark-less, to electric blue? It almost beckoned him in.

 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” Stiles answered, slightly annoyed at himself for the words that came out of his mouth, almost as if they weren’t what he was expecting to say.

 

“Anytime.” The man said, running his hand lightly down the side of Stiles neck. And usually, Stiles would not allow anyone, outside of his pack, to touch that part of him, knowing how protective and possessive werewolves could be, but he couldn’t help but just allow it to happen.

 

“What’s your name?” He found himself saying.

 

“George.” A smirk appeared shortly after.

 

“I’m Stiles.” He answered, giving a tentative smile of his own.

 

“Very nice to meet you Stiles.” George answered, handing over enough money to cover both Stiles’ book and his own. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

 

——————————————————————————————

 

After Stiles let himself into the rebuilt Hale manor with a key that Derek had thrown at him only months before with a promise of a room if he ever needed, it didn’t take long for the pack to start asking him for food. Make us this Stiles, make us that, echoed around him.

 

The only thing that was different, was Derek.

 

He stared at Stiles, frown evident on his face as his eyes raked over the younger man’s face before stopping at his neck.

 

Oh shit.

 

“What.” Derek stated, not bothering to word it like an actual question, which really, Stiles thought they’d grown out of this. He didn’t have much more time to ponder this before he felt stubble rubbing against his cheek, a soft mouth grazing down the side of his neck.

 

Now; Stiles was used to to Derek being physically close, whether this was Derek pushing him up against the wall, or whether it was Derek pushing Stiles out of the way of danger, his body laying heavily over the top of his, protecting him from whatever was trying to hurt him in that particular moment.

 

This, however, was different. There was no immediate danger, no trying (and trying really was the key word) to scare Stiles into doing what he wanted. This was, what Stiles would assume from his lack of experience, hot . And Stiles really needed to get that thought out of his mind, especially with all of the pack within smelling distance.

 

“You don’t smell like - “ Derek paused, “ - pack.” A chest rumbled under Stiles,  obviously unhappy.

 

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles huffed, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I met a guy - “

 

Derek pulled away faster than he would if someone would have plunged a wolfsbane infused knife in his back.

 

“ - at the bookstore.” Stiles finished his sentence. “I guess he was a bit handsy?”

 

“A bit?” Derek huffed, stepping minutely closer.

 

“You smell like a whore house Stilinski.” Jackson helpfully provided. Stiles sent a special glare his way, hoping it portrayed his wish of wanting him to shut up, turning his eyes to Boyd who had mumbled something about it intensifying in the past few minutes for some unknown reason .

 

“Incubus.’ Derek supplied. “You met an incubus.”

 

“Oh shit dude.” Scott commented, eyes Bambi wide. “How hot was he?” The glare that Derek gave Scott was for Scott only.

 

Stiles frowned, thinking back. “Looks wise?” He asked. Scott gave him an exasperated look.

 

“Average?” Stiles asked. “I can’t quite remember. He had blue eyes.”

 

He saw Derek bristle from the corner of his eyes, his entire body going rigid.

 

“You noticed something about him.” Derek stated a fact.

 

“Well, yeah.” Stiles said. “I typically tend to notice things about people. It’s called being polite, Derek.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes at that, still standing way too close for Stiles to get his heart under control, still too close to not feel the heat of Derek’s body near him (and seriously, when had he moved closer?). Thankfully, Derek seemed too engrossed in his thoughts to realise what was going through Stiles mind at that point in time. Unfortunately for Stiles, Erica was not too engrossed, if her smirk was anything to go by.

 

“I guess the incubus thinks Stiles is unattached.” She added casually, clicking her fingers together. Stiles stilled, unsure of where she was going with this. Boyd snorted, covering it up with a cough.

 

“Yes.” Derek said, staring hard at Stiles. “It appears he does.”

 

Everyone around them shuffles, obviously uncomfortable, but for the life of him, Stiles can’t understand why.

 

“Okay?” Stiles said, unsure of why this is so unusual. He’s been pretty much (give or take a couple of experiences) unattached since he figured out his feelings for the werewolf who is currently crowding into his personal space, his hand which had somehow made its way, without Stiles’ knowledge, into the space that the incubus had touched earlier.

 

“You have to seem attached.” Derek said, staring intently into Stiles eyes. “For the foreseeable future, you’re no longer unattached. You’re mine.”

 

Stiles blanched.

 

——————————————————————————————

 

It started out okay, Stiles could cope. Really, he could. Small touches here and there, he could definitely deal with. But then the damn incubus had to go and plaster himself to Stiles’ back in a coffee shop queue, asking him if Stiles enjoyed the book that he had bought him (note to self, Stiles thought, don’t accept gifts from strange men), and as soon as Derek found out (thanks a lot Scott, really, where’s the love?) things have progressed from there.

 

Stiles was currently sprawled out on the sofa at Derek’s house. Sprawled out. On top of Derek. As in, all of them were touching. And Stiles really didn’t know what to do. It took everything out of him, everything that Deaton had taught him, to somehow mask his arousal. If Derek knew how much he actually wanted this, he was sure to throw Stiles across the room.

 

“I can hear you thinking.” Derek grumbled, his chest heaving as he sighed, the hand that was previously on Stiles’ upper back sliding down to rest just above the waistband of his jeans. “Stop thinking.”

 

“Okay.” Stiles murmured, breath puffing into the older man’s neck. Derek tensed, his fingers looping round the belt ribbons on Stiles jeans for a quick second before releasing.

 

“We need him to think that you’re in love. That your completely gone on someone else.” Derek said. “For now, that someone needs to be me.”

 

Stiles didn’t dare breathe. One wrong move and Derek would know that this ruse wasn’t exactly a ruse.

 

“I know that you’re besotted with someone.” Derek paused, waiting for Stiles to finish his snort, because really, who says besotted anymore? “But it appears you’re not physical with them, because no matter how infatuated you are, an incubus can only be fully deterred when they identify a physical connection.”

 

Stiles stilled, because apparently, what Derek said wasn’t a lie. He was besotted with someone, but also, yes, there was nothing physical going on with them. Until now, apparently.

 

“I’m hoping that if you can smell of physical touch, along with your infatuation, then the incubus will leave you alone.”

 

“Okay.” Stiles said for the second time that night, not sure what else to say. “So I need to have your scent on me?”

 

“Partly, yes.” Derek replied, shifting slightly, and god, Stiles can feel every move that he makes. “But there’s more. You need to… smell like me. You have to smell like you’re mine.”

 

“Stiles.” Derek says, manoeuvring them so that they’re eye to eye. “I’m not going to do anything with you that you’re not comfortable with.”

 

“I know that.” Stiles answers instantly. “I trust you.”

 

Derek pauses, waiting as if to catch him out in a lie. When he doesn’t, he relaxes, gaze softening.

 

“We’re going to need to become more physical.” Derek tells him. “And I do mean kissing, if not more. But Stiles, if and when you tell me to stop, I’ll stop. I promise.”

 

“Okay.” Stiles says shakily, not quite believing what’s happening here. He doesn’t think his body is going to continue to hide what he’s feeling if Derek actually follows through on these words, but he guesses it’s better than putting his dad through having to attend his funeral.

 

The kid shouldn’t go before the parent, right?

 

And then, Derek kisses him. It’s soft, gentle, a small press up of his body that attaches his lips to Stiles’. Gentle enough that if Stiles wanted to, he could move back, could push Derek away despite Derek being able to stay in place when a roof collapses in on him (of which Stiles knows due to the time when Derek was the only thing standing between him and the certain impending doom of being crushed by a building).

 

So of course, Stiles does the only thing that seems reasonable at that time. He kisses Derek back. Derek makes a small noise which Stiles chases with an enthusiastic tongue. One of Derek’s hands comes to rest on the back of Stiles’ neck, the other still lightly trailing over the waistband of Stiles’ jeans. Stiles brings his hands up to Derek’s hair, pulling lightly at the longer strands, making Derek shift, his knee coming up to rest at the side of Stiles’ body, rubbing up against his upper thighs. The slight change in positions had Stiles pressing deeper into Derek, feeling trapped, yet safe, within the enclosure that Derek had made.

 

“Okay. Wow.” Stiles gulped as he came up for air. “So that just happened. Time to add that to the spank bank.”

 

“ Stiles. ” Derek said, exasperated. He shook his head, pushing the younger boy until Stiles was eventually sat on the sofa like a normal person.

 

“You do realise that in order to deter the incubus, we can’t fake this, right?” Derek asked him. “As in, there can’t be any awkwardness between us about being physical. We need to give off the aura of being in a committed relationship. For this to work, I need to know that I can kiss you, or take your hand when we’re walking down the street, or pull you close to me, without you flailing the way that you do.”

 

“I think that’s the most words you’ve ever said in a row.” Stiles started, ignoring the Stiles being said by the werewolf. “And yes, I understand, and to be honest Derek, I really don’t want to die, so from here on out, you have my permission to get all up on this whenever you want.”

 

Derek was quiet, looking at Stiles being slowly nodding. “This works both ways. You also have permission… from me. Mine. My permission. To err, whenever.” Derek winced, knowing Stiles would understand what he was trying to say.

 

“Perfect!” Stiles exclaimed, shifting closer until he had crowded Derek back against the arm rest. He grinned cheekily before leaning in further, trying to store the feeling of Derek’s hands gripping tightly at the bottom of his shirt, fingers brushing gently across the soft skin on his hips, to his memory.

 

“Just promise me one thing.” Stiles said solemnly. “Try not to fall in love with me.”

 

Derek knew he was quoting some film or TV programme, but he didn’t care, especially when Stiles closed the distance again, too busy exploring Derek’s mouth to notice the flash of red in Derek’s eyes.

Chapter 2: Mutual Orgasms

Stiles could get used to waking up next to Derek, his strong arms holding him in place, short breaths puffing out onto his neck as the warm weight of the werewolf pins him down onto the bed.

 

Derek was currently sprawled all over Stiles’ front, one leg hooked over his upper thigh. Stiles woke slowly, remembering how awkward it had been last night. Derek had announced that Stiles would be sleeping with him (and Stiles mind may have gone elsewhere for a moment) before ushering Stiles onto his cloud-like mattress. Stiles had taken a while to get to sleep, constantly tossing and turning until Derek had just growled and manhandled him onto his side, bringing his back flush against Derek’s front, before slowly letting sleep take over as he breathed deeply, everything around him smelling like Derek .

 

Stiles shifted, trying to get out from under the 200 plus pounds of werewolf that currently had him trapped. He really needed to take a trip to the bathroom before Derek woke up and felt what was pressed into his lower stomach. Stiles winced when a soft rumble came from Derek’s chest, the hand tightening around his waist. Damn it.

 

Stiles thought that werewolves were meant to wake up at the slightest sound, given their enhanced hearing and apparent overall skill of being aware of literally everything happening around them. It seemed that particular skill has skipped Derek, though.

 

Stiles tried one more time, shifting his whole body along the mattress to try and untangle himself. Derek, however, decided to shift with him, and Stiles froze as a hard bulge passed against his thigh. Lips smacked against each other, making him shiver, as Derek nuzzled deeper into his neck, his hips apparently moving on their own accord as they stuttered slightly into Stiles.

 

“Derek?” Stiles gasped. “Derek, come on, wake up.”

 

“Hmph?” Derek mumbled, dry lips rubbing against the side of Stiles’ throat before Derek stilled, breathing heavily.

 

Stiles didn’t dare breathe, his senses all focused on Derek’s cock heavy on his thigh along with Derek’s stomach pressing against his own obvious hard-on. He let out a shaky breath before once again trying to move, only resulting in both of them letting out a stammered moan. He glanced down at Derek who was staring at him with dark eyes, mouth set into a tight line.

 

“Can I?” Derek’s voice came out gravelly as he pressed his hips down ever so slightly more into Stiles’ upper thigh. And that is definitely not what Stiles was expecting to happen.

 

“Fuck.” Stiles croaked. “Yeah. Yes. ”

 

Derek didn’t need anymore convincing, instead moving his hand lower to grab onto Stiles’ hip before slowly - painfully so - grinding down, moving up slightly so that Stiles’ own bulge was caught by Derek’s thigh. Stiles gasped, one hand landing on Derek’s back and the other coming up to grab and pull at the back of his hair. Derek groaned, nosing his way down Stiles’ throat as his thrusts became quicker, heavier.

 

Stiles responded just as eagerly, bucking his hips up into Derek’s own thigh.

 

“Fuck, Stiles. ” Derek groaned, hand trailing lower and behind to cup his ass, squeezing as he pulled their bodies closer together. Stiles moaned in response, tipping his head back for Derek to run his nose down the front of his neck, stopping once he reached the neckline of Stiles’ pyjama top.

 

After what felt like forever but also so not long enough , he felt Derek tense, hips stuttering in quick succession as he came in his sweatpants, and fuck, that shouldn’t be as hot as it was. Derek kept the pace up to bring Stiles to the edge, and all it took was Derek nipping at his throat with a “ Come for me Stiles ” growled out and Stiles was absolutely done. They both lay there for a moment, breathing deeply, before Derek finally seemed to make himself push off the younger man.

 

“That should help convince the damn incubus.” Derek huffed as he sprawled out next to Stiles, panting heavily.

 

Stiles froze, his whole body suddenly feeling like it was turning to ice. He felt sick, knowing that Derek had done that to help get rid of something that was stalking Stiles, had taken one for the team . And Stiles had enjoyed it, taking what was given to him. Had used Derek for his own pleasure.

 

“Yep.” Stiles squeaked, hastily removing himself from the bed. Derek sat up, frowning at what Stiles was sure was his heart rate going haywire.

 

“Stiles?” Derek asked carefully. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing!” Stiles forced a laugh out. “I should go get a shower. Nip to the shop, etcetera, etcetera.”

 

“Don’t shower.” Derek said, eyes widening as if his mouth was saying the words without his permission. “I just mean, the smell. Keep the smell on you. For the incubus.”

 

Derek winced and Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, no dude.”

 

“Don’t call me dude.”

 

“That’s gross. I’m sure he’ll still be able to smell it or whatever if I get a shower.”

 

“Fine. Whatever.” Derek looked away, letting his body lie flat once again on the bed. Like Stiles getting a shower would undo his actions and make them pointless. Stiles frowned.

 

“Okay. So. I’m going to go do that - get a shower.” Stiles said, slowly walking backwards out of the room. “And we’re… good right? We’re okay? No awkwardness?”

 

Derek raised an eyebrow, giving him a look. “Yes, Stiles. We’re okay.”

 

“Okay! Great. Bye!”

 

Stiles took the quickest shower of his life, only pausing to scrub at the dried come,  before drying off and heading out of the door, only giving Derek a glance as he walked past him, noticing that the frowning had intensified. What a surprise.

 

——————————————————————————————

 

From Derek: Are you at the shops?

 

Stiles glanced at the message before pocketing his phone. Derek knows that he’s at the shops. It where he told him he was going.

 

From Derek: Can you pick up some steak.

 

From Derek: Stiles?

 

From Derek: Stiles, answer me.

 

Stiles wanted to, he really did, but all he could think about was Derek practically riding his thigh this morning, panting into his neck as he came, the word Stiles leaving his mouth halfway between a moan and a whine. It was really doing things to Stiles that he should not be happening in the middle of a supermarket.

 

“Stiles?” A voice called out, and shit , Stiles slowly turned.

 

“George, heh.” Stiles chuckled nervously, looking around at the aisle he was currently in, suddenly noticing that he was completely alone. Distantly he heard his phone pinging again, but his thoughts quickly came back to the man - incubus - in front of him.

 

“You.” George started, sniffing the air minutely. “Smell different.”

 

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you that it’s rude to point out when someone smells?” Stiles retorted without thinking. He can almost hear Derek’s ‘ damn it Stiles ’.

 

“Werewolf.” George said before a slow, lazy smirk formed on his face. “Well, well. An alpha werewolf if I am not mistaken?”

 

“Look, George.” Stiles said, backing up slightly, trying to make it look like he had some place to be, rather than out of fear.

 

“I’m surprised he let you out by yourself.” George grinned, cutting him off. Stiles frowned. “I mean, he must know about me. He must be able to smell me.”

 

Stiles grimaced, not even deigning to respond that Derek wasn’t his keeper , and Stiles could go out and do whatever he wanted, by himself , thank you very much.

 

“He can’t be that worried about you then.” George clicked his tongue, thinking, head tilting to the side. “Shall we give him something to worry about?”

 

The next thing Stiles knew, the basket he was previously holding had fallen to the floor with a loud clang, and he was pressed into the shelf behind him, George’s body flattening against his own. Stiles’ throat locked up, fear washing over him - he couldn’t move - before George’s tongue ran a stripe from Stiles’ ear down to his collarbone. Stiles felt sick.

 

George couldn’t get much further than that, because the next thing he knew he was being ripped away with a snarl by a large body ( Boyd! Stiles mind provided, oh thank god) and Stiles was being manhandled into yet another body, one who was currently scenting him - Stiles has been around werewolves long enough to know this.

 

“Jackson?” Stiles coughed out. “Jackson, what the hell are you doing?”

 

Stiles only received a snarl in response, before accepting his fate and letting the man continue his weird scenting ritual.

 

“Stay away from Stiles. He’s taken.” Boyd growled, Isaac - who had shown up at some point during the commotion - bearing his teeth at the incubus.

 

“Now, now.” The incubus drawled. “That’s no way to treat Stiles’ potential future partner. I’ll be seeing you, Stiles.”

 

With that, George sauntered away, apparently giving no fucks about the two werewolves that he had just turned his back on. Isaac growled before turning round and roughly pushing Jackson away before taking his place and finishing up the scenting. Even Boyd had a hand around the back of his neck, frown on his face as he contemplated something.

 

“We should get you back to Derek.” Boyd decided. “Jackson will finish up your shopping. Jackson?”

 

“Yeah, gimme the shopping list Stilinksi. God, you attract the weirdest people. Can’t get someone normal can you?” Jackson huffed, teasing Stiles as if he wasn’t all over him 30 seconds prior. Stiles just looked between all of them before fishing his shopping list out of his pocket and slamming it into Jackson’s chest (just for being an idiot like he usually is). Stiles shook his head at Jackson’s look of disbelief before gesturing to Boyd and Issac to lead the way.

 

“Un-fucking-believable.” Stiles mumbled after Isaac took the lead, Boyd trailing behind him. “Jackson’s right, isn’t he?”

 

“Let’s just get you back to Derek.” Was Isaac’s only response.

 

——————————————————————————————

 

Boyd and Isaac escorted him right to the front door, only backing off when Stiles actually walked through it to find Derek putting the groceries (damn, Jackson was fast) away. Stiles didn’t know what he expected, maybe for Derek to crowd him, shout at him even. What he didn’t expect, was to be ignored.

 

He cautiously walked into the kitchen to watch Derek - and really, how does he make putting away groceries look hot? - put the last of the tinned soup in the cupboard.

 

“Hey Derek.” Stiles said, not sure of what else he should do in this moment. He got a grunt in response, classic Derek, before he turned around, arms coming to cross over his chest, and Stiles really shouldn’t be looking at the way his arms bulged in the henley he was wearing.

 

“Have a good shopping trip?” Derek asked, his whole body stiff as he not so subtly scented the air. Stiles deflated, shrugging before grabbing a glass and nudging Derek out of the way so he could fill it up with water.

 

“You didn’t answer my texts.”

 

“ What? ”

 

Derek sighed, obviously put out. “You didn’t answer my texts, Stiles.”

 

“I was busy.”

 

“Obviously.” Derek muttered, coming to stand behind Stiles as he faced the sink, filling his glass up for the second time.

 

“I was worried.”

 

Stiles frowned, before realisation dawned on him. “You sent your pups, didn’t you? You didn’t think I could handle even going to do groceries by myself!”

 

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Derek said. Stiles turned around then, pausing only briefly to notice how close they were.

 

“ Excuse me? ”

 

“Stiles! Jackson told me what happened - he had you pressed up against the aisle. You couldn’t move!” Derek snarled, his hands coming to either side of Stiles body to land on the counter, essentially blocking him in.

 

“I had it under control.”

 

“No, Stiles, you didn’t.” Derek sighed, letting his head tip forward slightly as he took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself down before he did, or said, something worse.

 

“Are you mad at me? Is this because of this morning?” Derek asked, eyes briefly looking oddly nervous for a moment before he schooled his features.

 

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, puzzled.

 

“You didn’t enjoy it.” Derek stated, looking confident in his conclusion. “That’s fine. I won’t do it again.”

 

“What? No! Obviously I enjoyed it Derek.” Stiles sighed, shaking his head. “You, on the other hand. You don’t have to do this. You’re you , I’m obviously going to be okay about what happened this morning, but I completely get it if you weren’t, you know, into it. ”

 

“Not into it?” Derek asked as he pushed his body forward, effectively stopping Stiles arms from where they had started flailing in his monologue. “Does this seem like I’m not into it?”

 

Stiles eyes went wide, because yes, that was a definite hard on pressing against his own quickly growing cock.

 

“ Oh fuck, Derek.” He gasped, rocking his hips up to meet Derek’s.

 

“Stiles.” Derek started, looking him intently in the eyes. “I understand that what we’re doing is just to get rid of this damn incubus. But Stiles, I’m not blind. You’re attractive, and I’ve already given you my permission to, as you so elegantly put it, get all up on this . So unless I explicitly tell you that I’m uncomfortable, or that I’m not enjoying myself, then don’t put words in my mouth. Understood? ”

 

“Yep, got it. Oh my god. You totally wanna bone me.” Stiles grinned, which was quickly washed off his face by an extra forceful grind of Derek’s hips.

 

“You’re insufferable.” Derek rolled his eyes. “And an idiot.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re still completely into this. It’s going to be a bit of a bummer when we finally get this incubus guy, huh?” Stiles dropped his head to the side to allow Derek to run his lips over, and then tongue, replacing the invisible mark that the incubus had left.

 

“ Yeah. ” Derek sighed. “Just shut up, Stiles.”

 

“Make me.” Stiles grinned, and then Derek did, a hot mouth covering his, a tongue running along the bottom of his mouth, asking for permission. Stiles wasn’t an idiot, no matter what Derek likes to say, so he immediately opened his mouth to let Derek explore his mouth, and damn , did he explore.

 

Derek’s hands suddenly came to Stiles’ ass, grabbing, squeezing, before lifting him up onto the counter and pulling him forward, flush once more against Derek’s body.

 

“Fucking hell, Derek.” Stiles gasped, rocking his body up to Derek’s who just hums in agreement.

 

“We’re gonna make this incubus our bitch.”

 

“ Shut up, Stiles. ”

 

Stiles did shut up, but only after Derek pulled him off the counter to once again press him up against it, mouth moving from where it was previously nipping at his collarbone up to his lips where he could seem to actually silence Stiles.

Chapter 3: The Pack Ships It

Derek really couldn’t believe what has happened these past few weeks. Never in a million years did he think he’d be able to actually see what Stiles looked like when he was in the middle of an orgasm, what technique he liked Derek doing with his mouth to prompt that low moan to spill over his lips.

 

Sure, he’s thought about it. A lot. Usually at night when he knows the pack are asleep. But now he knows. And it was so much better than his imagination, and he’ll never be able to forget it. He was screwed. It killed him to know that Stiles thought that Derek wouldn’t have enjoyed their morning together, but more so that it’s obvious now that even though Stiles found him attractive, which he so blatantly stated, that’s the extent of his feelings.

 

And once the incubus was dealt with, he didn’t have an excuse to touch him anymore, to pull him against him and run his hands over his body. Was it a terrible thought that Derek kind of didn’t want the incubus to go away? As soon as that entered his mind, he scowled, knowing that until the incubus was dead, Stiles was in danger.

 

Derek would much rather not have Stiles than to not have Stiles. To have him gone forever.

 

With that uplifting thought, Derek saw the Hale house come into his sight, telling him that his run was over. He could keep going for another 10 miles with all of the excess energy he currently has in him, but he knows that everyone will be waiting to start the meeting, to discuss how and when they are going to kill this thing.

 

“Derek, so kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Peter drawls as he enters the house, memories of Laura chasing him round this very floor when they were younger filling his head. He didn’t bother answering Peter, instead glancing to where Stiles was sitting, eyes trailing over Derek’s bare arms. Yeah, physical attraction only, just as Derek thought.

 

“What more do we know about the incubus?” Derek asked, mainly directing his question to Stiles, and Lydia, who was glancing between the two of them with a knowing look on her face.

 

“Not much.” Erica replied for them. “We’re not even sure how to kill it yet.”

 

Derek frowned, leaning over the back of the sofa where Stiles was to press a long kiss to the top of his head. Stiles sighed, melting into it slightly. It felt so right that Derek’s heart clenched.

 

“Well that’s the first thing we need to find out. We can’t do anything until we know how to kill it.” Derek answered.

 

“How about a knife through the heart?” Boyd said, eyes glazed over from where he was lounging on the armchair, Erica strewn across him haphazardly.

 

Everybody turned to look at Boyd, the only answer given was silence. Stiles turned his gaze back to Derek, eyebrows shot up.

 

“When you asked me to find out how to kill it, I assumed it was because it had to be killed in a supernatural way.” Stiles started slowly. “Are you telling me, Derek, that we can just stab it?”

 

Derek could feel his face heating up, shuffled from foot to foot, mouth opening and closing, not knowing how to respond.

 

“Apparently.”

 

“Jesus.” Stiles put his head in his hands. “I’m so glad Boyd is your number 2. I genuinely don’t know how you’ve managed to go this long without being murdered.”

 

“People have tried.” Derek shot back without any real heat.

 

“Not hard enough, apparently.”

 

“Shut up, Peter.” Stiles and Derek said in unison, the rest of the pack nodding in agreement.

 

“Okay. So we stab it.” Lydia said, phone replacing the book that she was previously reading. “Sorted.”

 

Everyone nodded, and the tense atmosphere very quickly changed into arguments about what to watch, what to eat, who was sleeping where, because apparently Derek had unknowingly invited everyone to stay over.

 

“So, Stiles.” Peter started, moving to sit beside the young man on the sofa. “Have you had any more run-ins with the Incubus - George, was it?”

 

“Don’t give it a name.” Derek mumbled.

 

“Yeah, the other day in the supermarket. Thankfully, ” Stiles glanced at Derek. “The pups showed up before anything bad could happen.”

 

“Stop calling us pups, Stiles.” Boyd said quietly, Jackson sneering at the nickname. Isaac didn’t seem too bothered. It didn’t bother Derek either, but he pretended it did to both appease his pack and annoy Stiles at the same time.

 

“Interesting.” Peter hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe George doesn’t think that you’re attached enough. Or maybe he has a lot of power, and more is needed to deflect him.”

 

Stiles frowned, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it. He was almost challeng - “

 

“Better safe than sorry, right Stiles?” Peter interrupted. “If you need any help, I’d be more than happy to volunteer. I’d happily take your virginity if my nephew won’t.”

 

Peter almost purred the rest of his sentence, a hand coming to rest along the top of Stiles thigh, quickly moving higher.

 

Derek saw red, snarling at his Uncle. It took everything in him to stay in his place, his claws coming out to draw blood from his palms, fangs dropping low. It wasn’t his place to intervene. It wasn’t his place.

 

“Erm, dude. Get the fuck off me!” Stiles practically shouted, and that was all Derek needed to let himself move, grabbing Peter by the scruff and hauling his over the back of the sofa.

 

“Your Uncle’s such a creep, Derek.”

 

Cackles were heard from the rest of the pack, but Derek didn’t care about that. He turned his eyes, now red, onto Peter who had the audacity to smirk at him.

 

“What’s the matter, nephew?”

 

“If Stiles needs help seeming more attached, then I will be the one to help him. Am I clear? ” He growled out, hand tightening on Peters neck until he coughed out.

 

“Crystal.”

 

“Good.”

 

“That was hot.”

 

A round of Stiles! came from the pack, but Derek just sighed, not being able to help the smile that was forming on his face, letting Peter go reluctantly, relishing the way he rubbed at his throat.

 

“Peter might be right though.” Derek frowned.

 

“Okay, everybody out. Not you Stiles. ” Erica rolled her eyes, clicking her fingers at everybody to get up.

 

“Rude.” Stiles muttered.

 

“Trust me, you’re gonna enjoy this much more.”

 

“ Oh. Yeah, everyone out!”

 

——————————————————————————————

 

“So.” Stiles said once Derek had turned the lights off and gotten into bed next to him. “That was fun.”

 

“Yeah.” Derek huffed, thinking back to Stiles moaning underneath him, pushed over the edge from a twist of Derek’s hand. That was something new that they were doing now, apparently. Derek couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, though.

 

Stiles hummed, shuffling closer to Derek, arm coming to lay over his stomach.

 

“Did, erm, did you enjoy it?” He asked softly. Derek stared at him incredibly.

 

“Stiles. It took an embarrassing little amount of time of you giving me a blowjob to make me come.” Derek deadpanned. “Yes, I enjoyed it.”

 

“Good.” Stiles said, drawing the word out.

 

Derek rolled his eyes fondly, his own arm coming down to pull Stiles closer to him. Just as he was about to close his eyes and get some of the best sleep of his life, a certain beta decides that now is the time to interrupt.

 

“Isaac.” Derek grunts, staring over at the werewolf who was slowly shuffling into their - his - room.

 

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked, frown on his face as he sat up and removed himself from Derek. Derek wasn’t proud of how long it took him to let Stiles go.

 

“Nothing.” Isaac replied softly. “What are you guys up to?”

 

Stiles shifted away from Derek until there was too much room in between them, making Derek frown.

 

“Just chatting. Wanna join?” Stiles asked easily, patting the space next to him. Isaac shrugged, but quickly climbed in the space next to them both, crossing his arms as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

 

“How’s the job going at the clinic?” Derek asked, because even though he wanted to be left alone with Stiles, he can’t help but not be okay when one of his betas is obviously in pain. Unless it’s the physical type that Derek inflicts during training sessions. That type of pain is fine.

 

“Okay, I guess.” Isaac mumbles, shifting further down. “Scott’s teaching me most of the job.”

 

“That’s good.” Derek nodded, and after a second thought, he put the arm that was previously around Stiles, around Isaac instead. He didn’t miss the gentle smile that Stiles gave him, who then moved closer so that his shoulder was up against Isaac’s, with Derek’s hand brushing the side of his arm.

 

“I had a nightmare.” Isaac told them, eyes closing as if, he couldn’t see them so they can’t see him. “I was in the freezer.”

 

Derek tensed at that, wishing for the hundredth time that he could inflict a much more painful death on Isaac’s father. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stiles rest his head on Isaac’s shoulder, quietly comforting him.

 

“Can I stay here tonight?”

 

“Of course.” Derek answered.

 

“We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Stiles added on.

 

“Thanks guys.” Isaac yawned, obviously feeling much safer in the arms of his pack. Derek felt a swell of pride go through him at that. “We’re all really glad that you’re together by the way. Can’t believe it took an incubus for this to happen.”

 

Derek looked at Stiles, who was already staring at him with a hint of sadness.

 

“Yeah.” Stiles swallowed. “Go to sleep, Isaac.”

Chapter 4: The Sheriff Finds Out

John hadn’t seen his son in about a week. He was the damn Sheriff and he’d had enough.

 

After an argument with Stiles that lasted about an hour, and then another phone call after Stiles had apparently had words with Derek, his eighteen year old son was finally spending a night in his own bed.

 

The only condition, however, was that Derek would be joining him.

 

Yeah, John really wasn’t sure how he felt about that one.

 

He wasn’t an idiot, he was well aware of how the two men looked at each other. How Stiles would jump when Derek called him, eyes lighting up before racing over to help him in whatever supernatural thing was happening that day. How Derek would always make sure Stiles came out the other side mostly uninjured, not leaving the Stilinski household until John actively threatened him with a bullet ( bullets don’t kill werewolves, dad, he could almost hear Stiles say. They’d damn well hurt one though). How Derek seemed to have a special smile for when he was looking at Stiles, and how Stiles beamed when he made Derek laugh.

 

John wasn’t overly thrilled about the age difference, but he had to admit, he had warmed up to the alpha werewolf in the past year or so, even going as far as inviting him to stay for dinner when he hears him climb through his sons window.

 

His son’s window, who, for a large portion of the time that Stiles and Derek knew each other, was underage. That was a fun memory, the first time he had found Derek in Stiles’ room. Thankfully, he had already been in the know at that point, because he really doesn’t want to know what excuse Stiles could have come up with to explain the older man panting, laying topless on his bed with blood pouring out of his side, and his son goddamn straddling him. He was at least spared that.

 

John grimaced, bringing his coffee cup up to his mouth to take a long swig, already knowing that he sure as hell wasn’t going to like the reason that Derek just had to stay as well. He had known that Stiles had spent the week at Derek’s, and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted it to be because of supernatural causes, or because the two had finally gotten their heads out of their arses and done something about their relationship.

 

“Yo, daddio! Your favourite son is home.” Stiles shouted as he barged into the house, quietly swearing as he hit something - Derek, Johns mind supplied after he heard the simultaneous grunt.

 

“Stiles. You’re my only son, and right now you’re tying with Scott.” John greeted with a sigh, before flicking his eyes over to Derek as they made their way into the kitchen. “Derek.”

 

“Sheriff.” Derek nodded warily. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

 

“You’re always welcome here, son.” John started, noticing the way Derek’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his features. “However, I am a bit curious as to why you’d want to stay here, when you have a literal mansion?”

 

Stiles snorted, clapping Derek on the back before getting even further into his personal space to grab a bag that Derek had carried in. John didn’t miss the way Derek tensed, eyes flitting between Stiles and John. Apparently, Stiles didn’t miss it either.

 

“Dude.”

 

“ Don’t call me dude.”

 

“You can’t get all 1920’s pre marital on me now Derek.” Stiles rolled his eyes, and John really wished he hadn’t just heard that and its implications. “Not after what we’ve already done. This was your idea.”

 

Scratch that, John wished he hadn’t heard that.

 

Derek scowled, somehow managing to seem even more uncomfortable. John just sighed, knowing he needed to get this over with.

 

“What was Derek’s idea?”

 

“Well, you see dad.” Stiles grinned, arms coming up to give jazz hands. “Derek finally got the guts to admit that he’s been in love with me for the past three years, and now we’re dating.”

 

John looked to Derek, who looked very panic-stricken, as if Stiles had hit the nail on the head without knowing, which is one of the reasons why John knew his son wasn’t exactly telling the whole truth.

 

“We’re not dating.” Derek quickly chimed in, not looking at Stiles whose expression had dimmed after that comment. “Not technically, anyway.”

 

John gave a ‘go on’ gesture with his hand to Derek, who was now ignoring his son entirely, instead looking at John with the most mature and polite expression he had ever seen the man wear.

 

“There is this incubus - yes Stiles, George - who has taken, an erm, interest, in Stiles. To deter the incubus - no Stiles, I am not calling it George. Sorry, Sheriff. As I was saying, to deter the incubus, Stiles and I are kind of, fake dating?”

 

“ Fake dating?” John asked, eyebrows raised. God, he really hoped that he was pulling off the unimpressed expression.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Alright.” John sighed. “Let me know how that turns out. And for the love of god, Derek, it’s not sir or Sheriff. It’s just John.”

 

“You can’t tell anyone, dad.” Stiles chimed in quickly. “It needs to look real.”

 

“I wouldn’t worry about that son. I’m sure everybody who sees you two will think it’s real.” He gave Stiles a pointed look who quickly averted eye contact, and then he shifted his look to Derek who was blushing. Fair enough, it was very faint, but he never thought he see the day where Derek blushed.

 

“So,” John said, deciding to take the two boys out of their misery by changing the subject. “What’s for dinner?”

 

“Burgers!” Stiles exclaimed, making John perk up. “Vegetarian for you though, dad. Derek - get the ingredients out?”

 

John groaned, looking at his only son in horror while Derek complied and starting getting the various ingredients out of the fridge and cupboard before placing them next to where Stiles had obtained two chopping boards and knives.

 

“It’s good for your heart.” Derek grunted, shrugging apologetically. John raised his eyebrows, wondering when Stiles had managed to get Derek on his side for this.

 

John just rolled his eyes, opting to watch the two dance around each other while making dinner, instead of drowning in his vegetarian, no-meat misery.

 

He cocked his head as he saw Derek run his hand over his son’s neck, quickly replacing his hand with his face. Stiles shuddered, shifting from foot to foot before playfully nudging Derek to the side of him, barking out orders on how he wanted the onions chopped.

 

Derek did as he said, quickly and efficiently cutting the onions into thin slices with the skill only a werewolf could possess with a knife. Or, John thought, at least the only person in this household who could possess that skill. Stiles and himself, while they can cook basic dishes, were not exactly master chefs.

 

Stiles whistled as he prepared the burgers, adding garlic, lemon zest, basic seasoning and a *splash*, as Stiles likes to say, of rosemary to the mince. To John’s dismay, the fake meat had also been placed on the counter. He was starting to like Derek a lot less.

 

“Use your super sniffer to tell me when the burgers are done.” Stiles told Derek as he put the burgers in to cook.

 

“ Stiles. ”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Fine.”

 

“ What are you doing?” Stiles asked incredibly as he turned to stare at Derek. John took in the confused look on the older mans face as he shrugged, looking at his onions confused.

 

“That is not how you stir the onions Derek.”

 

“What?” Derek blinked. “Are you kidding me?”

 

Stiles gave him, what could only be described as a cheeky grin, and John inwardly groaned, because that was never a good thing.

 

“Here, let me show you.” Stiles replied sweetly, moving so that he was standing behind Derek, his thinner arms coming to wrap around Derek’s who just sighed, obviously not that surprised at Stiles antics. Stiles rested his chin on Derek’s shoulder, moving his arms, and therefore also Derek’s, in circles. Derek huffed, muttering something about this being exactly what he was doing beforehand. Stiles giggled - giggled,  John noticed - before copying Derek’s earlier actions and pressing his face into Derek’s neck, inhaling deeply.

 

Johns knowledge wasn’t completely up to date when it came to werewolves and the supernatural. However, he did know about scenting, as both Scott and Derek had started to scent John himself, so he took it upon himself to do a bit of research. He therefore knew why Derek was touching Stiles, and vice versa, but he was almost 100% sure that his research had led him to believe that when a beta (or, John thought, whatever Stiles was in this case) scented their alpha, they stayed away from scenting their neck directly, as it could be seen as a threat to the alpha. Derek seemed pretty damn okay with Stiles teeth that close to his jugular though.

 

Maybe John needed to update his research. Stiles always seems to know what’s going on, so maybe he would send him some links to look at. Or maybe he’d just ask Derek.

 

“Will you two stop that?” John practically begged once the scene had gotten too much for him. “Please.”

 

“No can do, dad.” Stiles grinned. “Unless you want me to die?”

 

Derek rolled his eyes, mumbling something about Stiles and exaggerating. He did, however, step away from Stiles to take the onions off the heat, telling Stiles that the burgers were ready, and move to the fridge to grab something out of it and pass it to John.

 

“Thanks, son.” John grinned, happily and eagerly accepting the beer offered to him, both of them ignoring Stiles spluttering in argument in the corner.

 

 

——————————————————————————————

 

By the time the second half of the game was on, Stiles was passed out.

 

John chuckled, reasonably impressed that Stiles had lasted as long as he had - football wasn’t really his thing. He looked over from where he was lounging on the sofa chair to see Derek with one leg laid out on the sofa; the other planted firmly on the floor. Stiles was sprawled against him, face smushed into the werewolf’s chest, Derek’s hand running up and down his back in a soothing manner. John turned the volume down slightly, turning his full attention to Derek who smiled gently at him, raising his eyebrow in question.

 

“Are you sure about this plan, Derek?” John asked seriously, eyes fixed on where Derek’s hands have now stilled.

 

“Of course.” Derek frowned. “It will work, and it will keep Stiles safe.”

 

“That’s not what I meant.” John sighed. “Are you sure you’re happy with fake dating my son?”

 

Derek was silent for a moment before his hands continued to run over Stiles back after the younger man had made a sound of disapproval of him stopping.

 

“No. No, I’m not okay with fake dating Stiles.” Derek replied softly, gaze landing on the mess of hair on top of Stiles’ head.

 

“Why’s that then?” John asked.

 

“I think you know why.”

 

John nodded in agreement. “Once this is all over,” he started. “I want you to know that I would be honoured to welcome you into the family, properly, if that’s what you both want.”

 

“I’m not sure that’s what Stiles wants.” Derek swallows harshly.

 

“Are you sure?” John asked, eyebrows raised. “Have you asked him?”

 

A shake of Derek’s head was all the response he got, making John frown.

 

“Isn’t that something werewolves can…” John paused, grimacing. “Smell?”

 

“It’s not always conclusive.” Derek shrugs, ears tinting red as he continues. “Plus, Stiles is a teenage boy. He pretty much, erm, always smells like that.”

 

“Maybe that’s because he’s always around you.”

 

“Just trust me Derek.” John sighed. “Actually talk to Stiles, and you both might find yourself a lot happier. And thank you,” he adds on, “for taking care of him.”

 

“Of course.” Derek replies firmly. “Always.”

 

“Yes.” John responds, nodding. “I actually believe you.”

Chapter 5: One Last Time

Notes:

The last two chapters are slightly shorter than the rest (last chapter isn’t yet finished), and are mostly here just to give this fic some semblance of a plot/ending.

Stiles sighed, trudging through the fallen leaves and sticks as he tried to keep up with the werewolves, who were all on full alert ahead of him. Thankfully, he still had Derek next to him, who had slowed his pace considerably in order to not let Stiles get left behind. Stiles was, in any case, the reason that the entire pack were out here this evening.

 

In any other situation, Stiles would’ve stopped for a moment to just marvel in what Derek had created with this pack. With what started out as just Derek after The Hale fire, had turned into a ragtag team of teenagers who couldn’t work with each other for longer than 5 minutes, to what he saw in front of him now, a team of, technically still teenagers, but who trusted each other, who played to each others strengths, and more importantly who all loved each other. They really were a pack now.

 

They had finally figured out where the incubus was hiding out. Well, to be truthful, to everyone’s surprise it was actually Jackson, who had figured it out. Stiles chuckled at the memory of Lydia’s face when Jackson told everyone, which was full of surprise, quickly turned to adoration. They both left the house pretty quickly after that. Stiles didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out why.

 

Every so often, each member of the pack would turn around, almost as if to check that Stiles was still there, their eyes darting back and forth between Derek and Stiles before turning back to the front and carrying on.

 

Stiles was too busy taking in his surroundings, which included a muscled arm brushing up against him with every step, to notice the hidden root in front of his path. Stiles stumbled, arms coming out impact him against the preserve floor.

 

No impact came though, other than large hands quickly coming out to catch him around the waist, pulling him back up against a large, warm chest, fingers clutched at the bottom of his shirt at the front.

 

“Thanks Der.” Stiles said gratefully. “Last thing I need right now is a broken nose, eh?”

 

Stiles started to pull himself away from Derek, noting that it took slightly longer than usual due to Derek’s apparent inability to actually let go of his shirt.

 

Eventually though, he did, muttering a ‘no problem’ and a ‘be more careful’ before grabbing Stiles’ arm to get him walking again.

 

“Are you two quite finished?” Erica shouted behind her shoulder. “Because, if you hadn’t noticed, we’re kind of in the middle of something.”

 

“Alright bat-woman, don’t bite our heads off - we’re coming!” Stiles shouted back, maybe a bit too loudly if Derek’s grimace was anything to go by. They both jogged to join up with the rest of the pack, and Stiles resolutely ignored the way Derek’s shirt tightened across his chest with every swing of his arms - really, he did.

 

“Everyone understand the plan?” Scott asked once they had caught up, puppy dog eyes coming out in full force.

 

“God sake, McCall. Yes, everyone understands the plan.” Jackson snapped. “I’m not sure why you feel the need to check, it’s not like you’ve been any help in this whatsoever.”

 

“Bite me, Whittmore.” Scott growled back, teeth baring.

 

“Okay guys, come on now.” Stiles tried to reason. This was the only relationship that hadn’t quite formed correctly yet - he was working on it.

 

“Maybe if Jackson wasn’t such a douche, we wouldn’t have this issue.”

 

“Yeah, well maybe if Scott actually used his brain once in a while, he could’ve helped his best friend a little earlier.”

 

Scott growled once more, eyes flashing as he shifted, Jackson following shortly after. Stiles looked between them, exasperated, from where he had placed himself in the middle of the two idiots.

 

“Enough.” Derek barked, eyes flashing red as he tugged Stiles harshly out of the way, placing himself in the now empty space.

 

Both betas shifted back to their human forms, baring their necks, and yet still managing to glare at each other.

 

“Both of you, stop whatever this is. Talk about it, get over it.” Derek started, giving Jackson another flash of red as he tried to interrupt. “After we’ve done what we came here to do. In case you both haven’t noticed, Stiles has been in danger for the past couple of months.”

 

Stiles glanced between Scott and Jackson, noting the now guilty looks on their faces. They both turned to him, Jackson offering an apology, and Scott doing the same before taking it a step further and coming to hug Stiles.

 

“What a lovely site to behold.” A voice that unfortunately Stiles recognised. “I am surprised, however, that your dog allowed his favourite chew toy to be touched by another. He sure didn’t seem to like it when I did it.”

 

The pack were on high alert straight away, all of them, except for Boyd and Cora who had slunk into the trees as per the plan, shifting, eyes flashing various colours at the incubus in front of them.

 

“Have you decided to finally let me take what is mine, werewolf?”  The incubus hissed, focusing his attention on the Alpha who had placed himself in front of Stiles, completely shielding him.

 

“He’s not yours.” Derek slurred, which Stiles has come to know as Derek is speaking around his fangs.

 

“Well, he’s not exactly yours either, is he now?” The incubus grinned. “I don’t see a mark on him - has he not let you? Does he not feel that way about you?”

 

Derek growled then, hair starting to form all over his body, which made Stiles step back in surprise. What happened next, Stiles would always commit to his memory - well, the first bit at least.

 

He’d seen Derek shift into beta form and into Alpha form. He hadn’t, however (mostly because he didn’t know that it actually existed) seen Derek shift into an actual goddamn wolf.

 

But that’s what happened. Right in front of Stiles’ eyes. Even the rest of pack had shifted back to human form, surprise laced on their faces. One minute Derek was there, pushing Stiles behind him, and the next, a large - very large - black, gorgeous, wolf stood before him, snarling and snapping its teeth at the incubus, who, for the first time, actually looked frightened.

 

From the corner of Stiles’ eyes, he saw both Boyd and Cora walk slowly out of their hiding places, eyes wide and staring openly at Derek. And damn it, Stiles thought, they didn’t stick to the plan.

 

Turns out that the plan didn’t matter, because whatever the incubus mumbled under his breath next, Derek lost it. The wolf charged at the incubus, and what Stiles was assuming would be at least a fair fight, ended in the blink of an eye with Derek ripping his throat out. With his teeth.

 

Slowly, but surely, the wolf transformed once more, back into the man who Stiles was madly in love with. Stiles breathed heavily before stopping all together when Derek turned to meet his gaze, concern and - worry? - etched into his face.

 

“That was fucking awesome, dude.” Stiles gasped out, frozen expression soon turning into a grin when Derek’s face softened and all self-doubt wiped off his face.

 

“Well - “ Erica raised her eyebrows in surprise. “That was easy.”

 

Sounds of choked laughter was heard, before everybody seemed to realise that they had won, laughter soon turning into cackling before they all spread out, dealing with the scene before them so that nothing could be traced by the police - unfortunately they’d had a lot of practice at this. Stiles was stumped, rooted in his spot, staring at the werewolf before him. Derek came up to him with a small, gentle smile adorning his face.

 

It was done. The incubus was dead. And Stiles was… disappointed.

 

“What do you say Der, one last kiss for old times sake?” Stiles chuckled nervously, shifting from foot to foot as he watched Derek’s reaction. Various emotion flitted across his face, some of which Stiles couldn’t quite identify. He finally seemed to land, though, on resignation.

 

“Sure, Stiles.” He answered softly. “For old times sake.”

 

When Derek finally took a step forward, it wasn’t to push him back into a tree, or to grab at anything he could find on Stiles. It was to gently cup Stiles cheek with one hand, thumb brushing over his jaw, emotions raw on his face, uncharacteristically open for Derek. His other hand came to lay on Stiles’ waist, not grabbing or caressing, just still.

 

Stiles gulped, noticing how Derek’s gaze followed the action, stopping at the base of Stiles’ neck before dragging his eyes back up to meet the younger man’s, slowly leaning in to lay a small, gentle press of his lips on Stiles’.

 

Stiles frowned slightly as Dereks’ eyes closed, as this was not on the same wavelength as their previous kisses (of which there had now been a lot). There was no tongue, no teeth biting his lower lip. Dereks mouth wasn’t even moving. Stiles pushed into the older man, opening his own mouth as an invitation, but Derek didn’t take the bait, he didn’t bite. He only held Stiles’ head in place before finishing the kiss by pulling away slowly, eyes fluttering open to reveal a pained expression.

 

“Oh.” Stiles mumbled, realisation sinking in. “You didn’t have to do that, Derek. I get it, sorry. The incubus is dead, we no longer have to do this.”

 

“George.” Derek replied, voice hoarse. “I think we should give it a name.”

 

“Yeah.” Stiles laughed out in astonishment and hurt. “So, I guess I’ll see you at the next pack meeting then?”

 

“Okay, Stiles. If that’s what you want.”

 

“Yeah, Derek, it is.”

 

Derek only nodded, closing off his expressions, which drove Stiles crazy. He pulled away fully from Stiles before turning around and walking away, only stopping to whisper something to Erica and Boyd, the two betas glancing between Derek and Stiles a few times before settling on nodding their heads in what Stiles assumed was agreement. Stiles quickly learnt what had been said once the couple come up to him to tell him that they’ll be taking him home.

 

Home, as in, his house - his dad’s house. Not Derek’s. Because he doesn’t belong there anymore. Derek doesn’t want him there, the incubus is dead, so there’s no need for him to curl up in Derek’s arms anymore. No need for soft, morning kisses and watching Derek cook breakfast shirtless, shamelessly flirting with the older man who would just blush in response, shutting Stiles up effectively with a kiss when his flirting starting getting too dirty. Which would more often than not lead them to the sofa, or Derek’s bed, or in one glorious case, the shower, after Stiles had knocked a full bowl of flour over the both of them.

 

Stiles was fine with that. Really, he was. So, he went home.

Chapter 6: The Boys Figure Their **** Out

Notes:

I will at some point edit this fic so that it reads better/add a bit more plot to it

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since they killed the incubus. And two weeks since he last saw Derek.

 

He had genuinely meant to go to the pack meetings, he really had. But, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He drove nearly all the way there on several occasions before turning back, not yet ready to face Derek.

 

He didn’t want to see Derek if he wasn’t allowed to touch him.

 

God, Stiles thought, he missed him so damn much. He could still feel the touches, and the kisses, and he could still hear the laughs, and the way Derek would tell him about his family when they were cuddled up in bed at night. He hated that he couldn’t have that anymore.

 

He groaned into his pillow, vaguely aware of the pack meeting that was meant to start in an hour. Derek had texted him - again - to remind him, asking if he was going to show up to this one.

 

Probably not.

 

He just wanted to wallow in his misery for a few more hours until he got bored and decided to watch whatever was on TV at that point in time. Nothing ever went his way, did it?

 

“Stiles.” A deep voice pulled him from where he had smushed his face into his bed. “You need to come to tonight’s meeting.”

 

“Boyd, no, go away. Leave me alone.”

 

“I can’t believe I got stuck doing this.” Boyd mumbled before grabbing at Stiles’ legs and pulling him off the bed. Stiles yelped as he hit the floor, turning around to sit up and glare at Boyd who was looking very unimpressed.

 

“If you’re that opposed to being here, then just leave.”

 

“I can’t.” Boyd said simply. “You’re pack. And you’re not happy. Neither is Derek.”

 

Stiles scoffed, hauling himself up so that he was sat on the edge of the bed instead. He can’t really be bothered to stand, but at least this way he didn’t have to crane his neck to look up at Boyd.

 

“I’m pack adjacent, Boyd.” Stiles rolled his eyes as he said. “I’m not a werewolf.”

 

“No, you’re not. You’re an idiot.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You heard me.” Boyd glared. “Don’t be deliberately obtuse, Stiles. You’re more pack than anyone.”

 

“Sure I am, pup, sure I am.”

 

“You are.” Boyd practically growled. “Do you think we’d allow anyone else to call us pups. Do you think Derek would allow anyone to talk back to him the way you do, to challenge him? Jesus Christ Stiles, do you think he’d allow anyone else to shove their goddamn face into his neck to hide their laughter?”

 

Stiles stared at Boyd, who was almost shouting by the end of the speech.

 

“You’re pack, Stiles. You have no idea how important you are to all of us. To Derek. You have no idea what these past couple of weeks have done to him.”

 

“What?” Stiles mumbled.

 

“He’s been awful. I haven’t seen him like this in ages. Training has been an absolute nightmare, and there’s no one there to tell him to ease off, because he doesn’t listen to us when we say something. But he listens to you, Stiles. He hasn’t slept, he’s been going on more runs than I can count. He keeps looking at his phone like he’s waiting for the most important call of his life. And whenever he hears a car driving up, even though he can tell it’s not yours, he practically runs to the door to check anyway. Do you understand what I’m saying here? Or do I need to spell it out for you?”

 

“No.” Stiles answered meekly. “Don’t spell it out for me. I want Derek to do that.”

 

“Good. Now go. I’ve told the rest of the pack to stay home tonight.”

 

“Okay.” Stiles swallowed. “Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

 

Because now, Stiles was sure, this wasn’t one sided. This wasn’t unrequited. Derek loved him back. And he was going to get that damn sourwolf to admit it to his face.

 

————————————————

 

His plan seemed much more doable back at his house, or even when he was driving the short distance to The Hale house. Now, though, as he was stood in front of the doorway, fists raised to knock at the door, the plan seemed a little more daunting.

 

What if he was wrong? What if Boyd wasn’t as perceptive as he thought he was? What if -

 

The door opening cut his train of thought off, and he had to take a couple of stumbling steps to right himself when Derek came into view, frown and lack of sleep evident on his face. Stiles’ heart clenched at his heavy eyes, the pained expression on his face and his downturned mouth as he scrubbed a hand harshly over his face.

 

“You came.” Derek said roughly, voice hoarse. Stiles noted his hair and how it looked like it had been tugged, pulled and ran through one too many times.

 

“Yep.” Stiles swallowed, holding his breath as he waited for Derek’s next move. The older man just grunted, opening the door further as an invitation. Stiles ducked under him, as apparently he could open the door but not actually move out of the way. His shoulder brushed against Derek’s chest as he manoeuvred round him, and all he wanted to do was have that steady, firm chest against him once more.

 

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked tensely.

 

“You text me asking if I was going to show up to the next pack meeting.” Stiles shrugged, and even he could hear the lie in his heartbeat. Derek gave him an unimpressed look, one eyebrow raised.

 

“Okay, fine - “ Stiles sighed. “I’ll just get right to the point then. Were you faking what we were doing these past few months?”

 

Derek was silent as he closed the door behind Stiles carefully, turning around slowly to face him.

 

“Of course.” He said weakly, voice cutting off half way through. “That was the plan.”

 

Stiles couldn’t help but smile. That was a lie. He didn’t need to be a werewolf to know that.

 

“Oh, okay.” Stiles replied cheerily, making Derek’s gaze drop down to his feet to avoid eye contact, lips pressing together tightly.

 

“Okay. If that’s all Stiles, I think the meeting is cancelled tonight. No one else has shown up, so you can go.”

 

“Yep, of course! Just one more thing - “ Stiles grinned. “- I’m still a virgin.”

 

Derek really looked confused then, gaze finally flicking back up to Stiles as his eyebrows furrowed. “O-okay?”

 

“I really don’t wanna be a virgin anymore, Derek.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“And, I mean, if you were really faking these past few months, then that would mean that you’re definitely off the table when it comes to who is going to devirginize my sweet, sweet ass. Am I correct?” Stiles asked sweetly, grin growing at the flush that had appears on Derek’s face - and god, Stiles wondered how far that blush actually went.

 

“What are you trying to say here, Stiles?” Derek asked. “Do you want me to… take your virginity?”

 

“Oh, no! I’d never ask you to do something that you didn’t want to do.” Stiles shook his head. “But I do know that Peter offered, so maybe I’ll go and take him up on that offer. I mean, personally, I’m kind of in love with you, but if you don’t feel the same way, then I guess I’ll have to settle for a different Hale.”

 

Derek blinked. “Don’t go to Peter.”

 

“Why not? It’s not like I have - “

 

“You love me?” Derek snapped his head up, making Stiles worry for a second that he’d broken it.

 

“You didn’t quite catch that at first, did you big guy?” Stiles grinned.

 

“You love me?” Derek repeated, before continuing softly. “You love me.”

 

“Pretty much since the first day I met you.”

 

Derek nodded his head, not seeming to be able to stop as his eyes flickered over Stiles’ face.

 

“This is usually the time where you say something back, Der.” Stiles chucked nervously, watching as Derek continued to nod like he was broken. “Good or bad, just say something. Please.”

 

Derek didn’t say anything, but he did kiss him. One arm snaked around Stiles’ waist, bringing his body flush against Derek’s own - and yes, this is what he had missed. The other hand came to the back of Stiles’ head, gripping and gently pulling to give him better access.

 

“Just in case - “ Derek breathed harshly as he pulled away for a second. “- in case it wasn’t clear. I love you too. So fucking much, Stiles.”

 

“These past two weeks have sucked, Derek.”

 

“You have no idea.” Derek laughed breathily. “You have no damn idea. Do you know how many times I’ve almost climbed through your window? One time - “ Derek said between another kiss. “ - I almost opened the window. Your curtain was closed, but I could hear you. God, Stiles. Do you have any idea what the noises you make do to me?”

 

“Derek, if you don’t get me naked, on your bed, within the next five minutes, then I swear to god I’m going to go see Peter just to piss you off.” Stiles gasped out, making Derek growl at the end of his sentence.

 

“You’re not going anywhere.” Derek told him, voice low and - which weirdly turned Stiles on - dangerous. “Not to Peter - “ A kiss. “- Not to another guy - “ Another kiss. “ - not to anybody else.”

 

“Yes, okay. Yes. Definitely. I am totally on board for that.” Stiles managed to get out when Derek let him up for air.

 

“You’re mine.”

 

“I am, Derek. And you’re mine.”

 

“Always.”

Later, when Derek had Stiles sprawled out on the bed, moans muffled by the pillow underneath him, with the weight of the Alpha on top, pounding into him, Stiles would end up thinking that he was very thankful for that damn incubus.