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evanesdust · 2 years

Text

two hands longing for each other's warmth

Stiles and Derek were best friends until Derek started high school, presented as an alpha, and became popular. The following year, their almost nonexistent friendship became even more strained when Derek pushed Stiles away after the deaths of his girlfriend and family. Still, when Stiles presents as an omega and his first heat approaches, Derek’s the only alpha he wants.

written for@prairiedale1 🥰 thank you for bidding on me for @fandomtrumpshate's 2021 auction. i hope i've done your prompt justice 💗

CHAPTER ONE

Stiles lies in bed with one arm tucked behind his head while the other picks at his threadbare pajama pants as he stares up at the ceiling. It’s midnight—well past the bedtime enforced by his dad—but he can’t sleep. Not with tomorrow looming over him. It’s the first day of school, and while Stiles is normally excited, this year is different.

Tomorrow he starts the 8th grade, still in middle school, while Derek will go to high school as a 9th grader. No longer will Stiles have his best friend there during lunch or recess. There’ll be no more lying to his teachers about needing the bathroom to sneak down to whatever class Derek’s in. No peeking in through the windows to stick his tongue out and incite a reaction. It also means no more hurried whispers about annoying classmates or sharing a high-five between classes as they pass each other in the halls.

Sure, Stiles will have Scott, who’s always been the best bro, but Derek is...Derek. Stiles literally doesn’t remember a time before him.

The two of them have always shared a connection—an unbreakable and impenetrable bond. One that requires no words. With just a fleeting glance, they instinctively know what the other is thinking.

A benefit of knowing someone since birth.

Their friendship has always been the butt of everyone’s jokes—light-hearted jabs woven with love and respect. If his mother were still alive, she’d probably joke about them getting married someday. She always liked to tease him, likely because he and Derek have proposed to each other a million times over the years.

Seriously, though, what else was Stiles supposed to do when Derek would always share his chicken nuggets with him? And then Derek would follow suit, always dropping squirrels and bunnies at his feet after full moon runs. Stiles knows the significance of the gesture even if no one really takes it seriously anymore. So he hopes and wishes that one day, Derek will claim him as his mate.

They might be young, but Stiles knows what love is. He saw it with his parents. Derek’s too. He feels it in his heart and soul—in the very fiber of his being.

Stiles Stilinski is in love with Derek Hale. He always has been, and he always will be.

There’s a familiar thump just outside his window. He’s not at all surprised when it creaks open. Stiles doesn’t bother getting up or freaking out about who’s sneaking into his room. There’s only one person it could be.

Sure enough, Derek’s large frame appears, slipping carefully into the room. He lands gracefully on one foot, his knee coming down gently. Then he pops up, standing tall, like Kate Beckinsale in Underworld after Selena jumps from the top of a building at the beginning of the movie.

“Bravo,” Stiles says, quietly clapping. “Seriously, ten out of ten.”

Derek flips him off, shrugs out of his jacket, and tosses it on Stiles’s desk. The moonlight streams in through the sheer curtains illuminating Derek’s path to the dresser. Stiles watches him undress down to his Superman boxers. He opens the drawer Stiles keeps for him and folds his clothes before placing them inside.

Stiles doesn’t bother asking what Derek’s doing here. He’s probably just as restless as Stiles is. Instead, Stiles scoots over, making room for Derek. As soon as Derek lies down, Stiles is swept into his arms. His body shivers at the temperature difference. Derek’s like his own personal space heater, and Stiles sighs in content as his body warms up.

“You smell funny,” Derek tells him, inhaling into the crook of his neck.

Since sarcasm is his only defense, the quip is right on his tongue. “You smell funny.”

Derek should expect it so Stiles can clearly picture the eye roll. He yelps when Derek jabs a finger into his side before asking. “What’s wrong? Why do you smell sad?”

“Stupid werewolves and their stupid enhanced senses.” Stiles heaves an exaggerated sigh and runs a hand down his face. He should have known trying to deflect wouldn’t work. Derek has always been able to read him like a book, and it has nothing to do with him being a werewolf. “We start school tomorrow.”

“Yes, I know.” Derek’s tone suggests that he thinks Stiles is an idiot for pointing out the obvious. And when he doesn’t say anything else, Stiles knows Derek’s waiting for him to continue.

“You’re in high school now.” This time, Derek sighs, but when he opens his mouth to speak, Stiles barrels over whatever he’s going to say. “Things’ll be different. You know they will! You’re gonna get popular, and then y-you won’t have time for me. And what happens when you present as an alpha, huh? You’ll just get even more popular!”

And probably find an omega—one that’s not Stiles—but it’s not like Stiles can say that. Then he’d have to admit his feelings. It’s one thing for their parents to joke about the future, but Derek literally holds it in his hands. Derek could squash any hopes that Stiles has of them being together. Plus, it’s not like he’d be able to help Derek through his first rut anyway; he’s too young.

Derek rolls his eyes. “We don’t know that. I could be a beta or even an omega.”

“Dude, have you seen you? Your abs have abs now. You’re fourteen. It’s unnatural.” Stiles scoffs and gestures at Derek’s well-toned body.

Derek pushes him off the bed. “Idiot.”

Stiles’s yelp is drowned out by the thud of his ass hitting the floor.

“Stupid werewolf genetics,” Stiles mutters under his breath. He pops his head above the mattress and sticks his tongue out at Derek while flipping him off. “Some of us are squishy humans, y’know?”

Derek reaches across the bed and pushes him back down. He stays leaning over to peer at Stiles on the floor. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you after school tomorrow?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Stiles says as he gets up. Derek doesn’t move, so Stiles sprawls over him, laying his head on Derek’s chest. “If dad doesn’t show up, I can walk home with Scottie. Or maybe I can call the sheriff’s station and get Parrish to pick me up.”

Derek growls and holds him tightly. His breath comes out in puffs on the top of Stiles’s head. “I’ll come get you, and we can walk together.”

Stiles shoves his cold feet under Derek’s legs making Derek hiss. “Stop being such a worry-wolf. I’ll be okay. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll call you as soon as I get home.”

“Okay. Fine,” Derek grumbles. He flops to the side, keeping his arms around Stiles in a protective embrace. “As long as you remember that everything will be okay. Nothing’s going to change.”

As they curl against each other and cuddle, Derek’s breathing evens out. As much as Stiles hopes nothing changes, a ball of dread grows in the pit of his stomach, and all he can think is famous last words.

CHAPTER TWO

It’s like déjà vu. Stiles lies in bed with one arm tucked behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. It’s midnight. He’d gone to bed hours ago, but he can’t sleep. Not with tomorrow looming over him. Another first day of school and, again, this year is different.

As he listens to the police scanner, Stiles looks over at his window. It’s latched shut with the curtains drawn tight. Derek won’t be sneaking in tonight. Honestly, Stiles can’t remember the last time Derek snuck in. Too many things have changed over the past couple of years. Stiles had known things would be different when Derek started high school. He’d worried about them growing apart, but never once had he thought that their friendship would end.

Just as Stiles had predicted, things got rocky almost right away. Derek got popular, presented as an alpha, and got a girlfriend. Okay, so maybe Stiles wasn’t very smart and preemptively started pulling away. Was it wrong of him to always make sure to have plans so that he wouldn’t be waiting around for Derek to call? Unfortunately, that also meant that when Derek did call, Stiles was busy, and he refused to be the friend who canceled or changed plans at the last minute.

Besides, after Derek met Paige, a new transfer student, Stiles absolutely objected to being their third-wheel. Watching them act all schmoopy and cute was disgusting. And heartbreaking.

Mostly heartbreaking.

And because Stiles is an asshole, he wasn’t very nice on the few occasions they were all together. Particularly not when Derek had invited her to a full moon run not long after they’d started dating. Granted, Stiles didn’t always go out for the full moon, but since it’s something reserved for pack, it should have been the one night where he was guaranteed some ‘Derek’ time. Seeing Paige standing next to Derek—his Derek—had enraged him.

Stiles had lashed out at Derek, his words cutting through the air. “You brought her here?! How could you?”

Derek stared at him, mouth gaped wide for a moment before he yelled back, “What’s your problem? I didn’t even know you were coming!”

“She’s not even pack! I’m pack!” Stiles got in Derek’s face, poking him in the chest.

Derek threw his hands in the air. “You never even come over anymore!”

“Well, I want to, but between basketball practices, your games, and now Paige,” Stiles seethed as he said her name, “you’re always out!”

“So are you!” Derek spat back. But he didn’t stop there. Instead, he reminded Stiles about every missed pack run and pack meeting, about all the missed calls and texts, of every time Derek had tried to reach out only for Stiles to be ‘too busy.’ Each one a dagger to Stiles’s heart.

Then Derek sighed. His shoulders fell, and he looked at Stiles with a forlorn expression—one Stiles wasn’t used to ever receiving from him—as he asked, “are we even friends anymore?”

The question was like a visceral blow, making Stiles stagger back into a nearby tree. The bark dug into his palms as he held himself up. It hurt so bad, but Stiles was tired, so tired of hurting and missing Derek. To know that it was his own fault made him want to lash out. His defenses rose until he spat back, “You tell me. Are we?”

“I don’t know.”

Stiles scoffed, rolled his eyes, and looked away in disbelief. He’d expected Derek to say literally anything else, anything but that. So to save himself any further embarrassment or make things worse—though he wasn’t sure what could be worse than losing one of the most important people in his life—he walked away.

Stiles has a lot of regrets when it comes to Derek. Guilt curdles in his gut when he thinks about his actions and reactions when it comes to their relationship. Maybe if he hadn’t walked away, he could have been there for Derek when Paige died later that year.

Instead, he let Derek push him away. When he went to the Hale house only to have Derek slam the door in his face, he accepted it. When Stiles finally started high school, and Derek ignored him in the halls, he figured it was fine. It was what he deserved for how things ended.

Stiles thought that after some time and space, maybe they could try again. At the time, Stiles had acted out of anger because he wanted all of Derek’s time and attention for himself. After all, Derek was his. It was selfish, and Stiles vowed that if he ever got a second chance, he’d do it right. He’d be the friend that Derek needs.

Unfortunately, life fucking sucks.

Stiles sighs and flips to his side, smacking his pillow a few times until there’s the perfect amount of fluff to rest his head on. With his dad on an overnight shift, he’d usually be at Scott’s. Unfortunately for him, Scott got a girlfriend last year and was out on a date. Stiles could have gone too if he’d have accepted Theo’s offer.

Stiles rolls his eyes as he thinks about Theo Raeken. Theo had moved back to Beacon Hills after being gone for a few years, and there’s just something about him that bugs Stiles. Maybe it’s how aggressive he became after Stiles presented as an omega last year. Stiles hates the way Theo looks at him like he’s something to be devoured. He knows it’s only because his first heat is soon, and there’s no greater aphrodisiac than an omega in heat.

That still didn’t stop Scott from trying to convince him to give Theo a shot, going so far as to remind Stiles that he had no chance with Derek anymore. It only served to piss Stiles off. Thankfully, Scott backed off when he realized how uncalled for that was.

Scott knows how Stiles feels about Derek.

The squawk of the police scanner startles Stiles out of his thoughts. He recognizes the code for fire and blanches at the address given.

The Hale house.

Without thought, he flails out of bed, momentarily tangled by his comforter. There’s no time to grab his phone or shoes or to even lock the front door as he runs out of the house. Cool night air nips at his skin as he races through the woods, sprinting through the trees as fast as he can, even though his throat and lungs burn as he gasps for air. The Hales don’t exactly live close, but their properties are connected by the preserve.

Without moonlight to guide him, it’s hard to navigate through the trees. Branches slap his face, and his body aches, his muscles screaming in protest. He knows bruises are already forming from tripping over one too many uprooted tree trunks. Still, there’s no way that Stiles could have waited for his dad to come get him.

Besides, he knows the path to Derek’s by heart even if he hasn’t taken it in so long.

The fire roars and rages in the distance, its flames licking the sky as white smoke billows into the air.

“Derek! Derek!” he yells, bursting through the treeline. Tears streak down his face as he sees the Hale house engulfed in flames. Someone grabs him around the waist. They haul him up so he can’t run any further despite him kicking and screaming to let go. Someone shouts his name, but he can barely hear it over the static in his head. “Derek!”

Then he’s consumed by heat as a warm body yanks him from whoever’s holding him. The scent of Derek’s deodorant fills his senses, and he lets out a loud sob as Derek clutches him tightly. Just like when he was a child, he wraps his arms and legs around Derek as if he were a koala.

Stiles shoves his face into the crook of Derek’s neck, breathing him in. His heart surges against his ribcage violently at being in Derek’s arms. It’s like it recognizes its other half, finally here after what feels like an eternity apart.

When Stiles finally looks up, Derek’s face is pale but blotchy. His eyes are bloodshot, and his jaw is clenched. His voice is hoarse when he says, “I wasn’t here. I wasn’t—”

His words die off as his face crumbles, his anguish evident when he glances at the house. “My parents…everyone was insi—”

When Derek’s voice breaks, Stiles sobs again and holds on tighter.

Another body presses against him. Stiles can tell it’s his dad when the person’s arms go around Derek too. After a moment, his dad lets go. They’re silent as his dad leads them to the cruiser.

Stiles only lets go of Derek to climb into the back, but it’s clear that Derek doesn’t want to be apart when he pulls Stiles close as soon as he’s seated. Even though Stiles isn’t a child anymore, he climbs into Derek’s lap. “I’m sorry. I’m so s—”

But Derek shakes his head and buries his face in Stiles’s chest. Stiles has no idea what‘s going to happen now, but he vows that there is no way he’s going to let Derek push him away.

CHAPTER THREE

Stiles’s eyelids are heavy, his body waking despite his protests for more sleep. Still, he forces them open and glances around his room for some indication of what time it is. There’s no light peeking through the curtains, which means it’s either late or early.

Over the past few days, waking and sleeping have blurred together. Except for the funeral yesterday, the only times that Stiles has gotten up is to use the bathroom and eat. That’s all he could do with Derek holding him so tightly.

Speaking of, now that Stiles is thinking about Derek, he knows what’s woken him.

There’s a distinct lack of warmth wrapped around him, and not only is Derek no longer draped over him like a blanket, but his side of the bed is also empty. Dread sinks into the pit of his stomach as he wonders where Derek is.

One glance at his phone shows it’s just past midnight. Stiles props himself up on his elbows and tilts his head, listening for anything to indicate where Derek is. Still, something niggles in the back of his mind, and he knows Derek isn’t in the house.

With a heavy sigh, Stiles throws his legs over the edge of the bed and stands. Somehow, he knows exactly where Derek went. Maybe it’s the vestiges of the bond they once shared. So he changes quickly and slips on some shoes before heading downstairs.

He shouldn’t be driving, considering he only has a learner’s permit and his dad isn’t with him. Still, he pockets the keys to the Jeep and goes outside where his mom’s old baby blue CJ-5 sits in the driveway. It takes less than a second for him to decide, ‘fuck it,’ and get in the driver’s seat. There’s no way he’s traipsing through the preserve right now.

As he puts the Jeep in reverse, all he can do is hope that the sound of the engine doesn’t wake his sleeping father and that none of the deputies spot him. It would be a headache that his dad does not need right now. There’s enough to deal with while ensuring that Derek’ll be taken care of after his family’s death. Not to mention the investigation into it.

After a couple of minutes, Stiles turns down the long, tree-lined driveway to the Hale house. He parks the Jeep and gazes up at what used to be a not-so-modest six-bedroom house. As his gaze travels across the lawn to the oak tree outside Derek’s window, all Stiles can think is: how many times did he climb that tree to sneak in and crawl into Derek’s bed? Now everything sits in ruins, destroyed by flames and soot.

The smell of smoke still hangs heavy in the air when Stiles climbs the front steps past the yellow caution tape. Ignoring the condemned building sign on the front door, he pushes it open.

“Derek?” he calls out.

Eerie silence is the only response as he steps into the foyer. Tears spring to his eyes as he looks around. Once upon a time, this was a second home to him. He used to play Legos with Derek in the living room. If he closes his eyes, he can hear the zip of their Hot Wheel cars racing over the hardwood floor from the kitchen to the dining room. He can picture Talia, Derek’s mom, scolding them as she’d set the table and Laura, Derek’s older sister, yelling that they drew on her bedroom door again.

Stiles was fond of drawing dicks wherever he could.

The memory startles a laugh out of him, one that quickly turns to a sob. But with a shake of his head, he pushes it away. As he walks up the stairs, his fingers trail over the railing, leaving the tips black. He wipes them on his hoodie and makes his way down the hall to Derek’s room.

Sure enough, Derek’s in the room, kneeling in the center. His back is to Stiles with his head down as he says, “What are you doing here?”

“I woke up and you were gone.”

Silence.

Stiles steps closer, reaching out. His fingers tremble as he hesitates, giving Derek a chance to pull away if his touch is unwelcome, before gripping Derek’s shoulder. Derek startles him by spinning quickly. His arms go around Stiles’s waist as he buries his face in Stiles’s stomach.

“Their scents are gone.” The pain Derek feels is evident in the way his voice cracks.

Stiles sniffles, swallowing down the lump lodged in his throat. Scent is important to werewolves, especially the scent of packmates. He can’t imagine the turmoil Derek’s going through right now. Just yesterday, they buried his family, and Derek doesn’t even have anything from them to hold on to. “I’m so sorry.”

The words are inadequate, but they’re all he has.

Derek holds him a little tighter as if he’s scared that Stiles isn’t really here. It’s slightly painful, but Stiles doesn’t want to break the moment. Especially when a wretched sob escapes Derek’s throat. After the past few days of watching Derek, of seeing his closed-off expression and listening to him say he’s fine, Stiles knows this is the first time that Derek’s cried.

Stiles tries to ignore the way the sound buries itself inside his chest. The way Derek’s loss resonates with his own. He knows what it feels like to lose family. He remembers all the pain from when his mother died. Derek was there for him, had held him and comforted him, and now it’s Stiles’s turn to support Derek in whatever way he needs.

As Derek cries, Stiles runs his fingers through his hair, lightly scratching the back of Derek’s head. He glances around the room, a place he hasn’t stepped foot in almost two years. There are surprisingly few differences. Destroyed by fire and water, there are still remnants of posters of baseball players and pictures of them as kids on the walls.

Stiles remembers the day he gave Derek the now scorched wolf figurine that’s on the floor next to the crumbling remnants of Derek’s dresser. He’d been out with his mom while she went thrift-shopping. As they were shopping, eight-year-old Stiles saw it sitting on the shelf. It reminded him of Derek, and he had to have it. Later that night, he’d given it to Derek. The smile on Derek’s face was so bright and happy that Stiles vowed to do anything and everything to keep him smiling.

Good job, Stiles. You failed spectacularly on that.

With a heavy sigh, his eyes continue roaming around the room. On the nightstand, he spots a half-burned copy of The Lord of the Rings. It belonged to Derek’s uncle Peter, but Derek had taken it after Stiles said he wanted to read it when the movies came out. Unfortunately, Stiles also hated reading, so whenever they were together and it was quiet, Derek would pull out the book and read it to him.

It seems significant that Derek would keep it.

Subconsciously, Stiles squeezes Derek a little tighter. He realizes what he’s done when Derek pulls away and instantly regrets it. But before Stiles can do anything to draw Derek back, he’s standing and lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe his nose. Stiles manages to stifle the strangled groan that threatens to escape as his eyes latch onto Derek’s stomach.

Popping a boner right now would be wholly inappropriate. Still, Stiles is an omega, and Derek’s been the only person—alpha or otherwise—that he’s ever cared for. Not to mention, he’s fifteen. If the wind blows just right, Stiles sports wood.

“Sorry,” Derek says, his voice low and rough. Though Stiles is sure Derek’s apologizing for crying and getting snot on him—not Stiles’s internal dilemma about checking out his former best friend.

Because normal people wouldn’t be thinking about sex right now.

Stiles clears his throat and nods. “Yeah, dude. Of course.” Derek goes to his closet. They both jump when the door breaks off, falling to the floor with a loud bang.

“We shouldn’t stay.” Stiles looks around warily as if the floor is going to give out any second.

“Just have to get something.”

Derek’s voice is muffled as he digs through the closet. Stiles counts the seconds as he waits for Derek to reappear, and when he does, he carries what looks like a lockbox. There’s also a backpack hanging off his shoulder.

“What’s all that?” Stiles asks, no longer feeling the urge to flee. His curiosity and impatience is a terrible combination that has always gotten him into trouble.

Derek walks over to his bed, pulling keys out of his pocket. He sits on the edge of his mattress and doesn’t speak as he unlocks the box. Stiles grows even more curious with the care with which Derek’s treating it as he gently places it on the bed.

Stiles peers down into the box and gasps. “You kept all this?”

The look on Derek’s face is hesitant and vulnerable as Stiles reaches for the paper ring sitting on top of everything. Stiles had made it after Derek first shared his chicken nuggets with him. Every proposal needs a ring, after all. There are also some pictures of them when they were younger, some drawings and notes from Stiles, and an old baseball that Stiles had gotten when Derek’s uncle Peter had taken them to watch the LA Dodgers play.

“They’re important,” Derek grumbles.

“This is important?” Stiles holds up a rock he’d painted with their initials, then points at a toy police car. “And that?”

Derek snatches the ring and rock from him, though he’s careful when he puts them back in the box. “Yes.”

Stiles holds his hands up in surrender, recognizing that Derek’s getting defensive. Besides, it’s not like Stiles has a right to question the importance of something when he has his own shoebox full of mementos, all things from his childhood—things that remind him of Derek.

He just didn’t think that Derek still cared.

Knowing that he does makes Stiles’s heart flip.

Without thought, he launches himself at Derek, who falls back on the bed with a soft, ‘oof,’ that Stiles swallows with a kiss. It takes far too many seconds for him to realize that Derek’s not kissing back, and he scrambles off of Derek, falling onto the floor.

Derek hoists him up, wiping his lips—the kiss—away.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles squeaks out, gripping Derek’s biceps to steady himself. Thankfully, Derek doesn’t say anything. Instead, Derek pulls away, locks the box, stuffs it into his backpack, and walks out of the room.

Okay, yeah, that’s not any better.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

Stiles follows, trying to find the words to make this better, but he’s already apologized. When they get outside, Derek holds his hand out for the keys. Knowing better than to argue, Stiles tosses them over and climbs into the passenger side.

Derek throws his bag into the back after getting in and starts the Jeep.

The usually short car ride feels like it takes eons when it’s weighed down by deafening silence. Stiles opens his mouth to speak a couple of times but closes it when Derek grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white.

It gets worse when they finally pull up to Stiles’s house and get out.

Derek doesn’t acknowledge him as they walk inside. The only sound is their footsteps and the creak of stairs as they go up to Stiles’s room. Except Derek doesn’t stop walking when they reach his doorway. Instead, he goes to the next room, the guest room. “Der—”

“Don’t.” Derek gives him a hard stare and shakes his head. “We’ll just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“But I’m sor—”

“Just don’t do it again,” Derek interrupts before walking into the guest room. The sound of the door closing reverberates in the hall, as well as Stiles’s heart.

Stiles sighs heavily. His feet are practically dead weights as he drags himself into his room. He doesn’t bother undressing as he burrows under his blankets, wondering how badly he just fucked everything up.

CHAPTER FOUR

Stiles rolls over and pulls his blanket more securely around his shoulders. He’s so cold without Derek’s warmth, but Derek hasn’t been in his bed since they came back from the Hale house a few weeks ago.

Moonlight creeps through the curtains, but it doesn’t give him any real indication of what time it is. He wonders how long he’s been sleeping. After coming home from school earlier, he’d decided to take a nap so he wouldn’t be tired during the full moon.

A quick glance at his phone causes Stiles to groan. It’s almost ten, much later than he’d intended on waking up.

With a heavy sigh, Stiles climbs out of bed. His muscles ache, and his joints pop as he stands, stretching his arms above his head. It’s been too long since he’d last had a good night’s sleep.

Gee, I wonder why?

All at once, his body sags in sheer exhaustion despite having just woken up. Today was another day of plastering a smile on his face like everything was okay. Sure, the mornings have flown by relatively pain-free. Regardless of what happened between them, once he and Derek started school, they’d fallen into an easy, familiar rhythm of dancing around each other in the small kitchen—bumping shoulders, elbows, and hips. Sometimes there’s even talking, joking, and laughing.

If anyone looks hard enough, it’s easy to think that absolutely nothing has changed between Stiles and Derek. But Stiles knows Derek well. At one point, Stiles had spent his whole life memorizing everything about Derek. So much so that he doesn’t miss the way Derek’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

It hurts to watch—to know that whatever bond they once had is now missing.

Stiles’s throat gets thick, and his ribcage squeezes tight, pushing the air from his lungs. All he wants is his best friend back.

That’s what tonight is supposed to be about. It’s Derek’s first full moon since his family died, and Stiles doesn’t want Derek to go out by himself. Mentally chastising himself, Stiles slips his feet into a pair of converse, grabs his phone, and goes downstairs.

The house is quiet. His dad’s at work, having picked up the overnight shift. The sheriff’s department had recently arrested the hunters responsible for killing Derek's family, and his dad didn't want to chance anyone retaliating, so he insisted on extra patrols to make sure no one tries anything tonight.

The backdoor creaks when he opens it. A cool breeze makes him shiver as he sits down, leaning back on his elbows on the deck. He smiles softly as he listens to the sounds of the preserve. An owl hoots, crickets chirp, and twigs break as animals scurry around. Or maybe it’s Derek running shifted through the trees.

When Stiles looks up into the night sky, a shooting star passes overhead. There’s only one thing he would ever wish for—for Derek to forgive him, for their friendship to go back to the way it was. And so that’s what Stiles wishes for.

If he sneaks in the bonus of a lifetime of waking up beside Derek and telling him how perfect he is, no one’s the wiser.

“What are you doing?” Derek’s voice is damn near a growl, breaking Stiles out of his thoughts. He scans the treeline, heart kicking up a notch when he notices crimson red eyes staring at him through the darkness. It sends a shiver down Stiles’s spine.

Instead of directly answering him, Stiles looks back up at the sky. “Remember that time you chased a squirrel up a tree? Good times.”

“Go back inside.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” Stiles fully expects Derek to stalk off, so he’s surprised at the sound of footsteps coming closer.

In front of him, Derek stands tall in all his naked glory. It’s far too much for Stiles, and he can’t help but drag his eyes down the length of Derek’s body. His legs fall open of their own accord, though he’s grateful that it’s far too cold for him to be fully aroused. Still, it irritates him, so naturally, he gets defensive.

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Stiles scoffs. “Want me to blush and look away because you’re a big, bad alpha?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “As if anyone could intimidate you. But it’s cold. You should go in before you get sick.” His voice is noticeably softer.

But Stiles shakes his head. “It’s the full moon.” The ‘you shouldn’t be alone’ goes unsaid, but Derek seems to understand because he doesn’t protest. Instead, Derek kneels before him. Stiles watches as the air ripples around him. Derek’s muscles shift, and his smooth, tan skin gives way to black fur until a familiar black wolf stares back at him.

Stiles sits up properly as Derek sits back on his haunches. It’s instinctual to reach out, card his fingers through Derek’s soft fur, and press their foreheads together. “Hi.”

Derek lets out a soft, sort of rumble-purr before pulling away slightly. He doesn’t go far, though.

Stiles’s heart flips when Derek curls around him like a blanket, engulfing him in warmth. It’s reminiscent of how they used to lay beneath the stars during full moons when the pack would run. Derek would never stray far from Stiles, and they would cuddle together until Talia howled, calling an end to the night.

Derek’s the alpha now, and Stiles lets himself relax, knowing Derek will tell him when it’s time to go inside. As he gets comfortable, curling up against Derek, he spots a large buck just on the edge of the property, against the tree line.

“Did you…?” Stiles doesn’t finish his question, not wanting to draw attention to the deer. Maybe it’s not for him. Maybe Derek just doesn’t want him to see it, likely, so Stiles won’t know how much he cares. The same way Derek kept all the mementos of their friendship a secret for so long.

“Never mind,” Stiles says quietly, setting back against Derek once more. He doesn’t want to run the risk of Derek pushing him away again. “Wake me when it’s time to go in.”

It earns him a small grunt, one Stiles easily recognizes as Derek-speak for ‘shut up and sleep.’ So it��s not at all surprising when Stiles wakes up in the morning tucked into his own bed because Derek carried him up instead of waking him.

Between that and the deer, Stiles smiles. Their relationship might be slow going, but it’s progress.

“Where are Danny and Jackson?” Stiles asks as Coach Finstock blows his whistle, signaling it’s time for everyone to head out and run laps on the track.

Scott slams his gym locker shut, then leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “According to Lydia, Jackson went into heat last night.”

“But I thought—”

“Yeah,” Scott says, cutting him off, “he didn’t want people to know and treat him differently.”

“Yeah, I don't blame him. You've seen how it is since I presented.”

Scott nods. “Anyway, apparently, the plan was that Lydia was going to help him when it hit, but then Danny got all possessive, and it looks like we won’t be seeing them for a few days.”

“You guys talking about Jackson going into heat?”

Stiles barely suppresses a groan when Theo presses against his back. He hates the way Theo’s breath fans over his neck.

“What about you, Stilinski? You find an alpha for yours yet?” Theo trails his fingers down Stiles’s arm. It makes him shiver, and not in a good way. “You can’t, can you?”

Theo yells before he can respond, and there’s a recognizable clang of a body being pushed into the lockers. Stiles turns around to see what happened and gawks at the sight of Derek pinning Theo against the lockers, growling in his face. “Don’t touch him!”

What Stiles sees in Derek’s eyes surprises him. There’s intensity and uncertainty in them—and something that looks suspiciously like longing as Derek checks him over.

“I’m okay,” Stiles assures him.

Theo drops to the ground with a loud thud when Derek lets him go. “Touch him again,” he says menacingly, “and I’ll rip your fucking throat out. With my teeth.”

A whistle blares in the locker room, startling them all. Coach Finstock glares at them, popping some antacids into his mouth. As soon as he’s done chewing, he blows the whistle again, eyes going wide as if he’s wondering why they’re not moving.

Theo scrambles past him.

Stiles looks back, wanting to say something to Derek, but he’s gone.

“Bilinski! McCall!” Coach barks out. “Hurry up and get your asses out on the field! My grandmother moves faster than you, and she’s dead!”

“I’ve got him!” Scott says, grabbing Stiles’s arm and dragging him out of the locker room. “We’re going.”

As soon as they’re outside, Scott rounds on him. “Dude, what’s up with you and Derek? I thought things were still weird between you two.”

“He is. Or, he was. I don’t know.” Stiles doesn’t really want to share what happened during the full moon.

Thankfully, Scott drops it. Coach blows his whistle again, and they all start running laps around the track.

It’s only when Derek’s breath fans over his cheek and Stiles smells the preserve, the woodsy aroma he’s come to associate with Derek, that Stiles realizes how close they’re sitting. Their thighs and shoulders almost touch as they lace up their shoes. Stiles grumbles under his breath because he’s already jerked off twice that morning, but that doesn’t stop his dick from jumping. It’s entirely Derek’s fault. Stiles sat on the couch first.

“Hurry up, or we’re going to be late for school,” Derek says, glowering at him. Likely because he can smell Stiles’s arousal. Again, not his fault.

Stiles can feel it looming. He presented as an omega last year, and he’ll have his first heat soon. He wants to find someone to help him through it—preferably Derek because even though Derek’s pushed him away, there’s no one else that Stiles wants.

His heart teeters on a dangerous ledge—certain doom lies in one direction, safety in the other.

“We still have ten minutes. And I’m hungry.” Stiles pushes up from the couch, adjusting himself as he walks to the kitchen.

Maybe just mention it casually? he thinks, pouring himself some cereal. Act like it’s not a big deal. Ideally, it’s better than spending it alone or with one of the alpha-holes who demean and degrade omegas, like Theo.

Stiles shudders.

Definitely not Theo.

Derek, on the other hand, would take care of him. Stiles knows that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything, that Derek would make sure his heat was special. Stiles blushes as he imagines spending his heat with Derek. His dick pulses in the confines of his jeans at the mere thought of Derek touching him, the thought of touching Derek.

Derek’s knot.

Fuck! The heat of lust licks at his skin. Stiles lays his palm over his chest, trying to calm his racing heart.

“No.”

It’s like a bucket of ice water is dumped over his head when his gaze snaps up. Derek’s jaw is clenched, twitching as he bites back whatever else he wants to say.

“But—”

Derek gives him a look, one that screams, ‘don’t even ask.’ It’s clear he knows where Stiles’s thoughts lie. Still, Stiles is stubborn. He dumps his cereal down the disposal, argument on the tip of his tongue, but when he turns back around, Derek’s nowhere to be seen.

The front door slams shut, and by the time Stiles gets to the living room, Derek is speeding away, his Camaro kicking up dust in his haste to leave.

“Wow. Fuck you, Derek.” Stiles hadn’t even asked. Wasn’t going to. Probably.

Naturally, Scott doesn’t answer when Stiles calls for a ride, so he has to walk. And, because life fucking sucks, Stiles isn’t even a block away from home before the sky opens up, and he’s caught in a torrential downpour of rain.

CHAPTER FIVE

Derek’s avoiding him.

Good.

Because Stiles really, really, really wants to punch someone.

Unfortunately, the brooding alpha seemed to be missing in the hallways between classes. Derek also disappeared right after school and didn’t come home right away.

His dad was worried when Derek missed dinner and still wasn’t home by the time he left for his overnight shift. But Stiles lied, letting him know that Derek was hanging out with some of his old teammates. Less than an hour later, Derek’s Camaro finally pulls up in front of the house. Stiles pushes up from his desk and glances out the window, slamming his econ book shut when he verifies that it is indeed Derek who’s there.

The front door opens and closes, and Stiles counts to ten to calm himself. His dad doesn’t need the stress of him and Derek fighting. Still, when Derek passes his room, he calls out, “Hey, asshole!” but Derek doesn’t stop.

It only serves to piss Stiles off.

Stiles pushes away from his desk and bangs on Derek’s bedroom door. When Derek pulls it open, Stiles is surprised by the look on Derek’s face. It looks like he’s ready to punch Stiles.

Derek’s jaw is set in a hard line, and his eyebrows are scrunched low over his eyes. Even pissed off, he’s the most beautiful man that Stiles has ever set eyes on. Stiles’s heart aches with how much he loves Derek, how much he’ll always love him.

“You’re a dick,” he says. “I ended up walking in the fucking rain, and Theo drove past, purposefully driving into a puddle.”

Derek presses forward, all growly and angry until they’re chest to chest. “Because I knew what you were going to ask, and the answer is no.”

Stiles refuses to back down, throwing his hand out to stop Derek from shutting the door in his face. With a scoff, he says, “Wow! You think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“I think highly of myself? You always said it was you and me against the world. But the second the world came knocking, you were out the door without the courtesy of a goodbye,” Derek snaps, his eyes flashing with rage. “So excuse me if I don’t feel like being used because you can’t find anyone else.”

Ouch. Derek just had to throw Theo’s words in his face, didn’t he?

“I got over you a long time ago, so please don’t come around opening old wounds.”

Stiles’s hand falls away at the harshness of Derek’s words. Even though he deserves every ounce of hatred Derek harbors for him, it still hurts.

“You brought me a deer,” he says quietly, reminding Derek about the other night. They both know the significance of the gesture.

“I’m not helping you with your heat.” Derek slams the door shut, the loud sound reverberating through the quiet evening like a gunshot.

“I don’t trust anyone else,” Stiles whispers before returning to his room, slamming his door as well. He grabs his pillow from his bed and flings it against the nearest wall in a fit of anger.

It doesn’t help.

With a heavy sigh, Stiles picks the pillow up, clutching it to his chest as he falls into bed. He flicks his light off. Time becomes obsolete as he stares at his ceiling. He strongly considers going through heat alone. It’s not ideal. First heats tend to last longer if the books he’s read are to be believed—seven to eight days as opposed to the typical four or five of a regular cycle. Cramps are supposedly even worse without being knotted. Still, the idea of spending it with anyone other than Derek is nauseating. Of course, it could be that the knowledge that Derek thinks Stiles would use him is heartbreaking.

What Stiles wants more than anything is Derek’s friendship, that bond that they once shared.

His bedroom door opens, snapping Stiles out of his thoughts. Derek is nothing but a silhouette against the yellow light in the hall.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then, without a word, Stiles lifts the corner of his comforter. Derek finally moves, slipping into his bed and dragging Stiles close.

Stiles’s heart clenches when Derek practically shoves his face into the crook of his neck and just breathes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have ye—”

“I’m the one that fucked up,” Stiles says with a shake of his head. “I never should have left you. You’re my best friend. We know each other better than anyone else in the world, and you get me.” His chest heaves as he holds back the flood of tears that threaten to spill. “I couldn’t stand being away from you; I thought about you all the time. I wanted a future with you, Derek. I always thought about it. That once we were grown up, you and I would be together. We belong to each other. Forever.”

“I love you, Stiles. I always have, but I can’t…I-I can be your friend, but I can’t help you through your heat.”

“I get it. And it’s okay,” Stiles answers honestly. His heart rests on a fragile and unsteady pedestal of hope. Derek might not be willing to help him through heat, but that’s not important in the grand scheme of things.

What’s important is having Derek back in his life, he thinks, closing his eyes. After so many sleepless nights, it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep in Derek’s warm embrace.

Stiles wakes up in a cold sweat, rutting against the mattress. He hears soft moans, and as he comes to, he realizes they’re coming from him.

As much as it sucks to wake up alone, Stiles is relieved that Derek’s not in bed with him because his dick is as hard as a fucking rock. After last night, this would be nothing short of awkward.

It’s not the first time he’s woken up hard, but it is the first time that it actually hurts. His balls are tight and his head is stuffy—clouded with noise. Stiles knows what this means.

His heat is coming. Probably only a few more days—a week if he’s lucky—before it hits.

He groans at the idea of spending it alone, but maybe he doesn’t have to. He’s never really entertained the idea of sharing his heat with anyone except Derek, but maybe he should.

No, that is a terrible idea. You cannot use another alpha to get over Derek. And definitely not during your heat. Stiles huffs an aggrieved sigh at his subconscious mind interjecting logic right now.

“Stiles, are you up yet? We’re gonna be late for sch—” Derek stills in the doorway as he takes in the sight before him. “You’re in heat.”

“Preheat. I’m good for a few more days.” Stiles peels his shirt off as he sits up, tossing the offending article towards the laundry basket. “Gimme five minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Are you sure that’s smart?” Derek asks through clenched teeth. Stiles isn’t sure whether to laugh or be offended at the face Derek makes. It’s clear he’s trying not to breathe.

“I’ll be fine. Honestly, if anything, the next few days of school might actually be nice. If I smell irresistible, then maybe all the alphas will be nice to me.” In case Derek doesn’t catch the sarcasm, Stiles rolls his eyes. As if he’d give the time of day to a bunch of brainless alphas who only think with their knots.

Derek narrows his eyes, a low growl emanating from his throat. “They’d only be doing it to get in your pants.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Stiles stands and stretches before shooing Derek away. “Five minutes. And don’t leave without me this time.”

Derek flips him off.

Stiles can’t help but smile.

Brett is...flirting? At least that’s what Stiles thinks as Brett smiles shyly at him, but he’s not used to alphas treating him with genuine kindness; so he’s sure he’s misreading the situation. In which case, he should probably pay more attention to what Brett’s saying, but Derek’s just down the hall. Stiles watches him from over Brett’s shoulder.

Derek’s eyes flash crimson, and his fists are clenched at his sides like he’s trying to hold himself back.

It’s a powerful thing to have two alphas vying for his attention. Unfortunately, Stiles is a little shit who likes to push Derek’s buttons, so he bats his eyes at Brett and puts a hand on his arm. The next thing he knows, the alpha is practically ripped away from him. Derek’s fangs and claws are out, and he’s breathing heavily in Stiles’s face.

“I’ll do it.”

Before Stiles can ask what Derek’s talking about, Derek’s lips are on his—strong and demanding as he traces his tongue over Stiles’s bottom lip.

Derek gently cradles his face as he deepens the kiss, so seductive in its sweetness.

This kiss is a claim. It’s a message to everyone around them that Stiles is his.

Thank God it’s nearly the end of the day because Derek practically drags him out of school as soon as the warning bell rings. The only class he’ll miss is chemistry, but that’s fine because Harris hates him anyway.

As they lay in his bed, Stiles traces random shapes over Derek’s chest before dragging him down for more kisses.

Stiles wishes he had enhanced senses. He wonders how it would feel to let those senses take over. How much more intense would kissing be? It already sends a thrill through him to feel Derek’s lips as they slip and slide against his own. To taste the mint of his toothpaste.

After what could be minutes or hours—Stiles has lost all track of time and space—he breaks off the kiss, gasping for breath and pressing his forehead against Derek’s. His dick throbs so bad that it’s almost as painful as it was this morning.

“I can smell your arousal.” Derek seems like he can’t help but nuzzle the hollow at the base of Stiles’s throat as he sniffs him. “It’s so good. So good.” And he burrows closer, licking a stripe up Stiles’s neck.

Stiles whimpers.

When Derek pulls back, Stiles can only imagine how he looks—dreamy and flushed.

“You always smell like cinnamon rolls and home,” Derek explains. “Sweet and familiar.”

Stiles smiles, though he can’t help but ask, “Are you sure? Last night, you said—”

“We’re not friends, Stiles. We haven’t been for a long time. I’ve been courting you since I was four.”

“Pretty sure I courted you first,” Stiles points out.

Derek kisses the tip of his nose. “I gave you my chicken nuggets.” “I proposed.”

“I was literally providing for you.”

“Your mom bought the nuggets.”

Derek snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, well, I didn’t start getting an allowance until I was five, so…”

“In that case, you’re forgiven.”

“Am I? I tried to apologize last night, but you wouldn’t let me.”

Stiles curls up against Derek, playing with the collar of his shirt. “Because none of this is your fault. I was the one who fucked up.”

“I’m not blameless in this, Stiles. I should have told you how I felt. And when you pulled away, I should have stopped you.”

“I should have fought for you.”

“You are now. We both are because I’m not letting you go. One day, when we’re older, I’m going to claim you.”

Stiles shivers as Derek brushes his fingers over Stiles’s collarbone and along his neck. He presses right into the crook of Stiles’s neck. “Right here. I’m going to put the mating bite here, so everyone knows you’re mine.”

A rush of slick dampens Stiles’s boxers, and his body heats up. Maybe that few days to a week was a bit too hopeful of an estimate.

“D-D’rek,” Stiles says, his words already slurring as his mind clouds with lust.

“You’re in heat.” Derek loops an arm around him. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of everything.”

“I know,” Stiles says, smiling softly, knowing Derek will take care of him.

CHAPTER SIX

“Wait right here,” Derek says before pulling away.

Stiles wants to protest, but as Derek leaves the room, he sees him pull out his phone. He’s probably calling his dad to let him know what’s going on. Knowing Derek, he’ll also grab some food and water so they won’t have to leave the room for a while.

The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

He’s about to spend his heat with Derek. And Derek loves him.

Derek. Loves. Him.

Derek’s going to claim him. Maybe not today because they’re still so young and still have a lot to talk about—to work through—but one day.

Stiles lets out a low breath when his stomach cramps, a sure sign of heat. He whines pitifully as his skin itches, feeling tight as his heat swallows him whole.

There’s a crash from downstairs, followed by tromping up the stairs. Derek looks like a disheveled mess when he appears in the doorway, arms laden with bottles of water and food. “I’m here. I’m here.”

Derek slams the bedroom door shut and drops everything on the ground. His eyes are crimson red and latched onto Stiles like he’s stalking prey.

Stiles bites his bottom lip, barely suppressing a moan as more slick gushes out of him.

Derek’s nostrils flare, likely catching his scent, and growls. His words are slurred around his fangs as he says, “Get undressed.”

The order makes Stiles whimper, and he hurries to comply. As he lifts his hips to pull his pants off, he moans at the little bit of friction on his dick. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough.

“Stiles…” Derek sounds pained, and when Stiles looks over, he notices Derek gripping the bookcase—his claws gouging the wood as he visibly holds himself back.

Stiles kicks his pants away and writhes on the bed. “Can’t help it, Der. Feels so good.”

Derek lunges forward.

Between Derek’s fangs nipping gently at the crook of his neck and the friction of grinding against Derek’s abs, Stiles’s mouth drops open in a silent cry as he comes.

There’s no time to be embarrassed about coming so fast because Derek practically rips the rest of his clothes off and kneads his ass. “Mine. My mate. My omega.”

Stiles moans wantonly as Derek’s finger prods at his slick hole.

Fuck!

“So good. S-So good,” he stutters, watching Derek finger-fuck him. The only thing wrong with this picture is the fact that Derek’s still wearing clothes.

Stiles paws at Derek’s shirt, hoping he understands. As much as he hates the loss of Derek’s wonderfully thick fingers in his ass, he’s rewarded for his patience by a very naked Derek hovering over him.

So naked.

Stiles doesn’t know where to touch first.

Derek takes the decision from him by bringing his hand up and nuzzling into his palm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Stiles says, choking back a sob at the swell of emotion that rises in his chest.

Derek kisses him sweetly at first, then deepens it with the force and passion of two lovers who have been separated by distance and miscommunication.

Stiles’s pulse thrums when they break apart for air, shuddering at the intensity of his emotions. He whimpers and drops his head back on the bed. “Derek, please. I need— I, I—”

Derek pulls back, though, by the look on his face, Stiles can tell it’s rather reluctantly. “Roll over,” he orders, his voice hoarse.

Stiles shivers and flips onto his stomach. He tenses at movement behind him, the bed dipping when Derek leans over the edge.

A pack of condoms is tossed on the bed beside him. At Stiles’s curious expression, he says, “I didn’t want to assume that you were on birth control.”

Something niggles in the back of his mind, but he’s too consumed by heat to wonder what. Especially when Derek pulls him up until he's on his hands and knees. Stiles instinctively spreads his legs wide as Derek palms his asscheeks.

Derek makes a rumbling noise of approval as his gaze lands on Stiles’s hole.

"Jesus. You have no idea how hot you look right now."

Stiles becomes a mewling, quivering mess when Derek presses a finger against his rim.

“Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

There’s a warm breath ghosting over his ass followed by strong, slow sweeps of Derek’s tongue over his hole.

Stiles’s brain short-circuits.

“Tastes so good,” Derek murmurs against him like he’s unwilling to pull away for even a second. He licks in long, slow strokes until there’s saliva trickling down Stiles’s crack. Then, he pushes his finger inside, and Stiles lets out a strangled cry.

Derek’s finger gets deeper, but it doesn’t stop Stiles from instinctively pushing back for more.

Derek—dear God!—knows exactly what he’s doing as he works him open, adding a second and third finger.

It’s so good, but not what he needs.

“D’rek. D’rek, please. Need you.”

Derek nuzzles the base of Stiles’s neck, and it’s somehow both affectionate and erotic at the same time. That, right there, sums up what Stiles loves about their relationship more than anything. The heady combination of friendship and lust.

Though, if Derek doesn’t get inside him soon, Stiles is going to come on his fingers instead of his dick, and that would be an outright tragedy.

“Fuck, I love you like this.” Derek’s voice is thick and husky. “Needy and desperate. I can’t wait to feel you around me, watch you completely unravel.”

“‘M ready,” Stiles slurs. He might not be but he wants that little lick of pain to remind him that this is real. This isn’t a dream or a fantasy, this is Derek inside him.

Stiles reaches back, blindly swatting to clutch at Derek’s arms as he tries to tug him closer, desperate for more contact, more of everything.

The warmth of Derek's body leaves him momentarily. Then he feels the blunt tip of Derek's dick against his hole. There's a bright sting of pain blending with an intense pressure that carries the promise of pleasure beneath it. Forget about catching his breath—Stiles has forgotten how to breathe entirely.

"I'll go slow," Derek murmurs, pressing kisses against his back.

One of Stiles’s hands slams against the headboard as Derek slowly pushes in. The stretch and burn give way to how perfectly filled Stiles feels, and he can’t restrain the loud moan that escapes him when Derek is fully seated.

“Fuck. Stiles. This feels amazing.” Derek moves his hips, gently thrusting inside him. “You feel amazing.”

“Oh fuck,” Stiles cries out when Derek brushes over his prostate.

It’s not just the slow, relentless thrusts that leave Stiles begging for more. No, that would be too easy, too kind of Derek. Instead, Derek reduces him to a whimpering mess with slow, satisfying deep thrusts and it’s better than anything he’s ever felt before.

He wants—no, needs more of this.

The bed creaks as they rock in perfect rhythm and Stiles mindlessly murmurs his pleasure.

Yes.

More.

Fuck.

“Mine,” Derek growls with each thrust, repeating the word over and over. He splays a hand over Stiles’s stomach, dragging the other across his chest and drawing him up until Stiles leans back against him, practically sitting on his lap.

Stiles takes the hand on his chest and slides it to his throat as he grinds against Derek. “Fuck me. Knot me. Please.”

Derek’s growl reverberates off the walls, making Stiles shiver in pleasure.

“Mark me. Claim me.”

With every thrust, words spill from Stiles’s mouth.

I need you.

I want you.

I love you.

“Harder, Derek. Harder,” Stiles pants. The grinding is scintillating, rubs over his prostate so deliciously, but it’s not enough. “Harder.”

Derek pushes Stiles back down, pinning his shoulders to the mattress as he snaps his hips.

Oh, fuck.

His thrusts become crazed and hurried.

“Derek,” Stiles calls out. “Derek, Derek, Derek.”

Like a slingshot, every muscle in his body pulls back, taut and tight in preparation.

“That’s it, baby,” Derek coaxes. Stiles turns his head, looking back at him. Derek’s gaze bores into him. “I got you. Come with me.”

Stiles whimpers, each thrust pushing him closer to the edge, but it’s Derek’s words and the adoration in his eyes that lure the release out of him.

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles cries out as the warmth of his release spreads below him.

“Stiles...” Derek’s voice is low and rough, chanting his name like it’s a prayer that Stiles answers by pushing back as much as he can.

When Derek’s hips piston one last time, Stiles’s body trembles. Derek’s knot locks them together, pulsing inside him as Derek comes. His groan of pleasure fills the room.

It’s complete ecstasy.

Derek drapes over his back and licks him, making Stiles laugh. “Did you just lick me?”

“You taste good,” Derek says sheepishly.

The admission makes him feel warm and fuzzy for some reason.

Stiles’s limbs are heavy, and sweat clings to his skin as Derek maneuvers them to their sides. The smell of sex hangs heavy in the air.

Stiles smiles softly, running his fingers over Derek’s arm.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Derek asks quietly, running a hand down Stiles's back.

Stiles shakes his head. “Feels so good. I didn’t realize it would be like that.”

Derek makes a sound of approval, a sort of rumble-purr. “So beautiful. And you’re taking my knot so well.”

Derek shifts his hips and Stiles lets out a long, drawn-out moan when Derek’s knot tugs at his rim. Stiles is a blubbering, whimpering mess. “Want it. Wanted you for so long.”

“You have me. You’ve always had me, Stiles.” Derek’s words leave him shaking. “I mean it. I’ve loved you for a long time. But you always talked about Lydia and Danny, and then your dad hired Parrish, and I just—I got so jealous. And when I went to high school, you started pulling away. You were always out with Scott and we saw each other less and less. I thought this is it. Confirmation that you didn’t feel the same way. And then I met Paige, and she—”

Stiles squeezes Derek’s arm, urging him to continue.

“I loved her. I did. It was different, but it was good. And then she died and suddenly you were there again, but I couldn’t. Looking at you, knowing you didn’t feel the same, was like losing you all over again. I couldn’t deal with it.”

“I did feel the same,” Stiles admits.

“I know that now.” Still, Derek shakes his head. “I don’t think it would have mattered. I wasn’t in a good place. I pushed everyone away. My mom, my sisters. Even Uncle Peter.”

Stiles brings Derek’s hand up and kisses his knuckles.

“But then after the fire, you were there and I couldn’t let you go. I needed you and not just because you’re pack. You’re my best friend. My mate.” Derek brushes his lips along the shell of Stiles’s ear. “My everything.”

“And then I messed it up by kissing you.”

“I was just shocked. I didn’t realize—”

“I should have told you. I should have just told you the truth.”

“You tried. I remember that night before school started. You tried to tell me then, didn’t you?”

Stiles nods. “I was scared to admit my feelings because what if it changed things? Which was stupid because I lost you anyway.”

“Hey.” Derek’s arms tighten around him. “We might have taken the long way around, but we’re here now.”

Stiles nods again and closes his eyes when Derek runs a hand down his side. When he opens them, he looks at the opened pack of condoms.

“Did you...did you buy these...for me?” Stiles asks in disbelief. It’d be one thing for Derek to have condoms because he’s sexually active. It’s a whole ‘nother thing if he got them because he’d been planning on having sex with Stiles. Especially because Derek only said yes that afternoon.

“I knew what you wanted and that's all I could think about. I don’t know how many teachers yelled at me yesterday because I couldn’t concentrate. I got them after school.”

“But you said no.”

“I know. And I had them when I said no. But, at the same time, I couldn’t stand the thought of you with anyone else. I told myself to suck it up. That you deserved someone who wasn’t a mess.”

“You’re not a mess!” Stiles insists, looking over his shoulder at Derek. “You had a lot of shit happen and you have no idea how much I hate myself for not being there, for walking away, but I’m here now. And you deserve happiness! I can do that! I can—”

“I know,” Derek says with a soft smile, cutting him off. “I know, baby. And you do. You’re why I’m ready to let myself be happy.”

Stiles nods, smiling softly as his heart flips in his chest. As much as he doesn’t want to, exhaustion pulls at him. He yawns and tugs his pillow close. “‘M tired.”

“Okay.” Derek kisses his shoulder. “Sleep and I’ll get you cleaned up as soon as my knot goes down.”

Stiles whines at the thought of not being filled.

“Shh...it’s okay. Trust me, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Stiles mumbles his acknowledgment incoherently.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” Derek says as he kisses the back of Stiles’s neck. One arm is thrown casually around Stiles’s middle, while he tangles their legs together.

Stiles sighs in content with how perfectly they fit together, and when Derek’s arm tightens around him, he whispers, “Goodnight, Derek,” and lets sleep take him.

EPILOGUE - (two-ish years later)

Stiles shrugs out of his graduation gown, folding it and setting it in a neat pile on the ground. They snuck off from the auditorium as soon as graduation was over because Derek insisted on taking him to a clearing in the woods behind the school before they need to meet his dad for dinner.

As he looks around their secret makeout spot—one they found after they started dating and would sneak off to for an impromptu makeout session—he rubs over his mating bite. The plan had been to wait until they were a little older before Derek would officially claim him, but they’re both impatient.

When he starts to sit, Derek stops him. “Not yet.”

Derek gets down on one knee, handing him a box of chicken nuggets. Where he was hiding it, Stiles has no idea, but he’s hungry so he takes it.

“Uh…” Stiles stares at him in confusion because the weight is off. Stiles knows because he takes his chicken nuggets seriously.

Stiles’s gaze snaps to Derek when he opens it, revealing a small black box. “Wha…?”

Derek smiles softly, plucking the black box from the chicken nuggets container and opening it. Stiles knows he should look, but he can’t take his eyes off Derek’s face. There are tears glistening in his eyes.

“Will—”

“Yes!” Stiles yells before Derek even gets the rest of the question out. He can’t help but launch himself at Derek, accidentally knocking the box out of Derek’s hand.

Derek flops back with a soft, “Oof!” cradling Stiles before flipping them over. The tears flow freely as Stiles looks up at him.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. On one condition.”

Derek brushes his knuckles over Stiles’s cheeks. “What’s that?”

“I get chicken nuggets, too, right?”

Derek snorts and kisses the tip of his nose. “Yes, Stiles. You get all the chicken nuggets you want.”

Stiles beams at him, holding his hand out for Derek to slip the ring on his finger. It’s a matte black band inlaid with six sparkling diamonds.

“Do you like it? Does it fit okay?”

“It’s perfect, Derek.” A laugh bubbles up Stiles’s throat as he stares at his engagement ring. Engagement ring. Because he’s engaged now. “I love you.”

The rough scrape of Derek’s stubble sends shivers through him as Derek nuzzles the side of his neck. “And I love you.”

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek fic #FTH2021 #fandom trumps hate 2021 #holy shit i wrote something

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evanesdust · 2 years

Text

two hands longing for each other's warmth

Still, when Stiles presents as an omega and his first heat approaches, Derek’s the only alpha he wants.

written for @prairiedale1 🥰 thank you for bidding on me for @fandomtrumpshate's 2021 auction. i hope i've done your prompt justice 💗