Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stiles--

The wind whistled through the trees; Stiles ran, hard and fast, from an enemy. He just had to keep running. When he came face to face with the beast, its searing red eyes drilled into him, and were matched in horror only by its coal black fur. Its arms were by its sides, just waiting for a moment to strike with its razor sharp claws.

The moonlight trickled down through the trees and upon the two of them. Stiles stood a few feet away from the monster, breathing heavily from adrenalin, as well as exhaustion. Stiles felt the beast’s eyes boring into him.

“I want your soul!” boomed the beast with an almost animalistic roar.

In a flash the red eyes were only inches away from Stiles’ own. Stiles was lifted off the ground by the immeasurably strong hands of the beast. Struggling, Stiles kicked out and connected with the beast’s chest. Crying out in pain, Stiles realized kicking the beast’s rock hard chest was a mistake.

“Foolish human! You cannot hurt me with such a mundane attack!” bellowed the beast.

“Then let’s try something a little less mundane, and a little more effective!” Stiles retorted.

Striking out with his open fist, now covered in a bluish hue, Stiles blasted the beast with blue fire, making the creature stumble back, clutching its face with both clawed hands. Stiles fell to the ground, expertly rolling away, and he was back on his feet in seconds, holding a strong fighting stance.

“Dammit Stiles! I thought we agreed on not actually doing any damage to each other!” roared the beast, still grasping his slightly charred face.

“Sorry Derek. You said you wanted me to train like a real pack member. I thought that’s what I was doing. It’s not like I'm going to be able to beat them with my natural sarcasm and charm.” Stiles said with a smirk. “You’re just jealous because I actually got a good hit in with the big bad alpha.”

Derek didn’t look like he was enjoying Stiles’ show of ability. Shrugging off Stiles’ comment, Derek said, “Pack training is supposed to be just that, training. Not an opportunity for you to show off your skills.”

Stiles laughed at that, “Ha! At least you admit that I have skills. You won’t be able to hold back all of this!” Stiles gestured to his body emphatically, “And besides, when did pack training come with cheesy dialogue. ‘Foolish human!’, ‘I want your soul!’ seriously? We aren’t in a terribly made movie from the 80’s. Although I must admit, some of those oldies are quite entertaining.”

“Stiles! You’re missing the point of pack training.”

“Please, enlighten me,” Stiles says with an eye roll.

“The point” said Derek, his forehead vein bulging and his hands straining in fists, “is to become an effective team that can successfully fend off any attacks.”

“Oh I see, an effective team, huh? Well maybe if you tried a little harder and cut the dark brooding alpha ‘tude this team might work a little more ‘effectively’” Stiles said, suddenly losing his sarcasm and going straight for anger; it always ends with anger. “I just had you scrambling away with a head full of flames, and you’re saying that I'm the one that’s lacking efficiency?”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily, “Can we just head back to the house? I think we can call off training a little early tonight,” glancing at the phone he took out of his pocket, “it’s almost 11:00 anyway and your curfew is 11:30.”

Stiles looked startled. How does Derek know his curfew? And since when does Mr. Alpha call off training early? Not that Stiles cares though, anything to get out of training with Derek. He’s happy to go home, crawl into bed, and get some oh so sweet sleep.

“Do you need a ride home?” asked Derek, strangely concerned.

“Why was Derek being so weird?” Stiles thought. Since when did he offer rides to people in his precious Camaro? “Uh, no. I came here in my jeep. I think I can get home on my own.”

“Oh right,” said Derek with a shrug. “Well I guess we should start on our walk back home, you ran quite a ways from the house.”

The trip back to the Hale house was silent and moderately short, only about a 10 minute walk. When they got back to the house, Derek and Stiles shared a short “goodnight” before Stiles got into his Jeep and watched Derek walk into the house. Stiles started his Jeep and set off down the dirt road that led to the highway into town. Beacon Hills at night looked pretty much the same as it does during the day, uneventful. But Stiles knew better. A kanima, a pack of alphas, and a handful of druids have been through this town in the last few years. It used to be so simple; school, friends, girls, sports, end of list. But now there’s pack training, magic training, lying, secrets and of course, werewolves. But oh well, Stiles deals with it just like everything else he’s come up against.

Shutting off the Jeep in the driveway, Stiles gets out and walks into the Stilinski home. He looked in living room and found his dad passed out on the couch with the TV on, thankfully no beer bottles are around.

“Dad, get up and go to bed, you know the couch is going to kill your back.”

Obediently the Sherriff got up from the couch and lazily walked up the stairs. From the living room, Stiles watched his father until the bedroom door closed. Stiles, feeling exhausted, made his way up the stairs to his own bedroom. Stripping off his clothes, save for his boxers, Stiles flopped into bed and waited for sleep to come. He felt himself drifting off when he heard tapping at his window.

“NOW?” Stiles moaned, knowing the only wolf stupid enough to tap on his window at, Stiles glanced at his clock on his night stand, 11:45, would be Derek. Rolling out bed, Stiles went to open the window as the tapping continued. Stiles popped his head out of the window and let out a whine, “What do you want, sourwolf? Wearing me out during training isn’t good enough? You have to keep me from my much needed sleep?”

“Stiles, shut up, and let me in,” called Derek from below the window.

“Oh please, by all means, come on up,” said Stiles as he sat in his desk chair.

Derek jumped in through the window and gracefully landed on the carpet. Looking Stiles over, with his glare at a somewhat less than threatening level, Derek said nothing. Stiles sighed heavily and twirled in his chair, not wanting to be the one to break the silence.

“What do you want?” Stiles blurted out after a few seconds had passed.

“I just came over to praise you for the good work you’ve been doing. I can see that your magic training with Deaton is going well, and your maneuvering is really coming along.”

“Okay, I'm confused. I was just complimented by Derek Hale. Who are you and what have you done with the real Derek?” said Stiles, swiveling back and forth in his computer desk chair. Stiles was getting ready to spin all the way around with Derek stopped him, kneeling next to the chair, his hand on Stiles’ knee.

“Stiles, I am the real Derek. I know it hasn’t been easy, for any of us, but I want to make sure that you know just how far you’ve come since the alpha pack came and went, and then with my disappearing act…” Derek was leaning closer to Stiles, matched in height given that Stiles was sitting in the chair. “You’re becoming a fighter, not just the researcher. I want you to know how proud the pack is of you, how proud I am of you…” Derek whispered the last part as he closed the distance between himself and Stiles, planting a firm, yet deliciously gentle kiss on Stiles’ lips.

Stiles flailed out of the chair and landed, with a thud, on his bedroom floor. The door to his room burst open and in came the Sheriff with a concerned, “Stiles? Are you okay? I heard a loud noise.”

Stiles quickly looked around the room for Derek, who was nowhere to be found. Rubbing his butt, Stiles replied to his father. “Yeah Dad, sorry I worried you. I just fell out of my chair, that’s all.” Stiles looked around again, rubbing his head, wondering if what had just happened with Derek had actually happened. “I was having the strangest dream; I must have fallen asleep at my desk. Go back to bed, no need to raise the alarm and call for back-up.”

The Sheriff chuckled at his son, “Well, I can see that you’re perfectly fine. I’ll probably be up and off to the station before you wake up tomorrow.”

Stiles gave a whine, “But its Saturday! Since when do you work early shift on Saturdays?”

The Sheriff gave a sad look to his son. “I know, but one of the deputies called in sick this afternoon and said he wouldn’t be in tomorrow, so I've got to cover for him, being the sheriff and all.”

“Alright, alright, better go get lots of sleep then. We wouldn’t want you slacking off with your big ‘sheriff’ responsibilities. Good night Dad.”

The Sheriff gave another low chuckle, “No we wouldn’t. Good night Stiles.” He gave Stiles a nod before exiting the room and closing the door. Stiles waited as he heard his father’s footsteps down the hall, along with the sound of another door closing. Stiles got up from the chair and went to lay in bed. Pulling the covers around him, Stiles thought about what had just happened. “Did I just have a dream about kissing Derek Hale? What on earth was I doing?” Stiles shrugged it off as exhaustion from training took over once more, sending him off into deep sleep.

Chapter Text

Derek--           

Standing below Stiles’ window, Derek sighed. He didn’t know what to make of the conversation he just heard between Stiles and his father, “How could Stiles think he was dreaming?” Derek thought to himself, still brooding over the fact that Stiles didn’t believe that Derek had kissed him. Derek could smell the arousal coming off of Stiles when he jumped through the window. He knew Stiles wanted him. He just didn’t understand why Stiles thought it was a dream.

Derek waited just outside of Stiles’ window until he heard Stiles’ heartbeat slow down enough for him to be asleep. He started to walk down the street, dressed in his usual Henley and leather jacket towards where he parked his Camaro. He got in and sat, rubbing his hands against the “shockingly” leather steering wheel. Derek was thinking of a way to get Stiles to see that Derek wanted Stiles as much as Stiles wanted Derek. Of course all Derek was going off of was the fact that he could tell Stiles thought he was hot, which doesn’t actually constitute liking someone.

Derek slammed his hand against the wheel, hard enough to bend it slightly inward. “He smells like pack. He smells like mate. Why can’t I have him?”

He took a few breaths, uncurled his fists, and relaxed back into his seat and tried to calm his wolf down. He knew his wolf wanted his mate, but taking what his wolf wanted never ended well. He remembered what had happened with Kate. His wolf had liked Kate, and he was young and naïve; so he put logic aside and went with the attractive woman twice his age. Of course, now he regretted that decision and wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He would restrain his wolf and take his time with Stiles. Derek didn’t want Stiles to become like Derek had with Kate, even though their ages matched almost perfectly to back then.

Derek shook his head in an effort to shrug off the thoughts of Kate. He hated her for what she had done to him and his family, killing almost everyone that he had a relation to. He also hated himself for being stupid enough to go along with her. Derek thought it was his fault in the long run; he was the one who gave Kate the in she needed to take down the Hale pack. It didn’t matter that he was 16, or that Kate used sex to manipulate him, or the fact that Derek didn’t actually DO anything, and even when no one else did, he still blamed himself.

Derek put the keys in the ignition with a little more force than necessary and revved the engine. He took off down the street that led to the outskirts of town where the charred remains of the Hale house stood. He parked in the gravel just in front of the steps that led to the main door. Derek got out of the Camaro and looked at the house with longing, wishing it was the same old house he grew up in. Now it was just the ruins of something beautiful.

After walking up the steps and in through the front door, Derek shrugged off his leather jacket and placed it and his keys onto a collapsible table he bought from a hardware store. He walked over to the mattress that he had set up on the floor and sat with a plop. Refusing to actually take off his clothes before going to bed, he settled on just taking off his shoes, setting them neatly on the hardwood floor next to the mattress. He laid back on the mattress and struggled to go to sleep. He would need a lot of it if he was going to get through pack training tomorrow.

Even though Scott had taken on the role of alpha he still needed help on controlling the pack, which is why they always used the Hale house; it was familiar to everyone, it was far enough away from the public, and it had the most room to use. Not even a week back from his big disappearing act and he’s already called upon to be pack trainer.

He didn’t mind, of course, but he might have wanted a little more time to himself; maybe a little more time to see Stiles before they had to meet in such a setting as pack training, something more private.

That night had been a little different. Stiles had heard Derek was back in town and insisted he come over to show off his magic, which led to a little sparring session, and later some private “praise.”

Derek fell asleep to the thought of kissing Stiles and how much he’d grown since Derek had left; no longer the gangly teenager who was only good for research.