Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The film set is bustling with bodies all on their own important course. Stiles thrives on all the manic energy though, feeling at home in his own skin, and continues on his way towards Derek’s trailer. He was assigned as Derek’s new assistant since the last one quit - apparently due to “personality conflicts” as the official story - and the agency thought to give Stiles a try since he gets along with pretty much anyone. He was kind of, sorta, freaking out though. The Derek Hale… famous actor with outrageously good looks but also talent to back them up, was someone he didn’t want to make a bad impression with. However, Stiles had heard about his reputation of being a player and kind of a jerk. He didn’t put too much stock in tabloid stories though, and hoped they would get along, since they’d be spending a lot of time together.

Just never take it personally, Stiles says to himself, repeating his mantra that kept him sane in this industry. As he approaches the trailer, nicest on the lot he notes, the door five feet in front of him swings open and a chick goes rushing by, obviously crying. When Stiles turns his attention back to the doorway, Derek is filling it. Whoa, holy shit, he’s way too hot. The actor crosses his arms and his scowl deepens.

“Yeah?” is all he throws in Stiles’ direction, agitated. Stiles tears his attention away from how the maroon shirt hugs Derek’s arms and his dark jeans cling to his thighs.

“Yeah, hey, I’m Stiles, your new assistant. Is she okay?” He says, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, the red flannel he’s wearing billowing open with the motion. Derek’s eyes track up his body before looking where Stiles is pointing and the girl disappeared to. Stiles feels his cheeks heat slightly from the attention and his hand moves from pointing to rubbing his neck.

“What kind of name is Stiles?” Derek asks instead of answering. He leans his weight against the doorjamb.

“A nickname,” he replies effortlessly, used to the explanation. “My first name is unpronounceable Polish, so.” Derek just grunts in acknowledgement before he pushes off the frame and heads back into his trailer. Stiles hesitates a minute before following him inside.

The trailer is full of warm wood tones and neutral colors. Stiles watches as Derek flops down on his couch and pulls out his phone, basically ignoring him. He sighs inwardly. One of those types.

“Alright,” Stiles says with a clap of his hands. “Nice to meet you too. I already had your agent transfer your schedule to my phone and as I’m sure you know, you’re filming most of today before going to a charity event tonight.” Derek keeps scrolling. “Erica told me to ask if you had a date for that by the way.”

Derek looks up at that, letting out a noise slightly too close to a growl. “I don’t want to take a date. It’s Erica that thinks I need to,” Derek grits out. Stiles shrugs and holds his hands up placatingly.

“No pressure from me. I’m just the middleman. I’ll let her know you’re flying solo,” Stiles reassures while pulling out his phone to text her. Not even thirty seconds after hitting send Derek’s phone rings. He lets out an annoyed groan before answering.

“What?” he snaps into the phone.

“Derek we talked about this! You’re supposed to take Jennifer to the event tonight to keep up appearances. Your playboy rumors are getting out of control.”

“Well that sucks, Erica, ‘cause she said no. Also we broke up. She may have left… crying,” he replied, looking at least slightly sheepish. Stiles recalls that Derek may have been seeing someone, and he assumes that’s who the crying girl was.

“I cannot believe you!” It’s said so loud even Stiles hears it. “Fine. What about asking Braeden?” Derek’s nose wrinkles at the thought.

“One, she’s just as busy as I am and won’t have time for such last minute plans. Two, gross. We’re like siblings,” he explains, rubbing pointer finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose. Stiles slides into the chair across from him and Derek glances at him. Stiles takes note that his eyes are just as pretty in person - their green-gold catching the light under dark lashes.

“Who else then?”

“There’s no one else, Erica. I’ll just go alone - it’ll be fine.”

“What about that adorable new assistant of yours? He’s edible,” she purrs into the phone. Derek rolls his eyes but takes another glance at Stiles who has now turned his attention to his own phone. Long, gorgeous fingers catch his attention before he follows constellations of moles to sweeping lashes over beautiful cheekbones.

“No. You know I don’t mix business with pleasure,” Derek answers. Erica snorts.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Tell that to all your co-stars’ broken hearts. Or broken beds, either one. Besides, just think of him as a platonic stand in. No romance involved. Even if he’s totally your type,” she says with a laugh. Derek sighs in return, not arguing her statement.

“Stiles. You have plans tonight?”

“Possibly. What’s up?” He answers, putting his phone down.

“You’re going with me to the charity event. As my date,” Derek says bluntly. Stiles’ eyes widen for a second, his mouth hanging open while he processes.

“Wow, Derek. What a classy, nice way to ask him to do you a favor.”

“Like he’s going to say no,” he says into the phone. Stiles’ eyes slightly close in a glare.

“Rude. I could’ve totally had plans. It’s a Friday night. Plus, that means I have to spend the whole evening with you surrounded by stuffy rich people,” Stiles protests.

“Yeah, and I’m awesome,” Derek replies with a smirk. “Problem solved,” he says the last part to Erica before hanging up. Stiles just gawks at him.

“You are not as awesome as you think you are. Also, I may be your assistant, but I’m also a person so please try to remember that.” Derek raises his eyebrows at Stiles’ words. “Common decency isn’t that hard, you know,” he grumbles, but Derek’s hearing catches it.

“If you’re looking for common decency, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong industry.” Derek pushes to his feet and stands in front of Stiles, slightly looming. Stiles internally berates himself for even finding Derek attractive. Even though his appearance is, the personality behind it is still egotistical and self-centered.

“Whatever, big guy. You’re due on set in fifteen minutes,” he says, hoping Derek will shift out of his personal space. When he doesn’t, Stiles - never one to back down from a challenge - stands up so their chests brush and their noses almost bump. “If you’re an asshole, attractive or not, at the end of the day you’re still an asshole,” Stiles says, eyes boring into Derek’s. A tense energy thrums between them before Derek’s face breaks into a grin and Stiles ignores how much better he looks when he does it.

“You think I’m attractive?” The grin stays there while Stiles rolls his eyes. He gently uses both hands against Derek’s chest to push him back. Derek uses the proximity to subtly inhale Stiles’ scent, committing it to memory.

“Whatever. Half the world does Mr. International Sensation. Let’s go, let’s go. You’re not gonna be late anywhere on my first day,” Stiles insists. Derek does back up then after his grin transforms into a smirk. Stiles heads to the trailer door and opens it to step outside.

“You have a suit for tonight?” Derek asks to confirm Stiles really will go and follows the boy outdoors, admiring the way his black skinny jeans show off his ass.

“Yeah, of course. This ain’t my first rodeo,” he quips back. All professional assistants had clothes ready for formal events in case of attending. Stiles’ is just a few years old but still fits.

“What color is your suit?” Derek asks.

“It’s a dark gray. Why?”

“Wear a navy tie. I’ll wear a matching gray one,” he explains.

“Oh,” Stiles looks down and flushes slightly. He’s gone as dates to a bunch of events before. He can’t figure out why he’s decided to make a big deal now. Don’t lie to yourself, Stiles. “Like actual dates. You’re putting more thought into this than I expected.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo.” Stiles rolls his eyes at Derek using the same phrase as him. “You’ll arrange everything, yeah? Have the car pick me up at seven.” The pair neared the studio entrance where Derek was filming a sequel to an action movie released last summer. “And Stiles, I take my coffee black with extra sugar,” he says, heavily implying with his eyebrows he expects Stiles to get some.

“Of course. You need something to counteract all that saltiness. Be right back,” Stiles replies, giving a mock salute with two fingers before heading to the tent set up back outside where the constant coffee supply is. That they literally just passed. When Stiles returns, he finds Derek sitting in his marked set chair, reading over a script while makeup artist touch up from this morning. “Here.”

Derek takes the cup, along with one sip, then promptly tosses it in a nearby trashcan with pristine aim. Stiles gapes at him for the second time that morning. “Did it taste bad?!” Stiles demands, waving his hands around. The makeup artist scatter away, knowing Derek usually has a temper.

“Nope,” Derek says, flipping to the next page of his script. He already has it completely memorized for today’s part, but it gives him an excuse to not look at Stiles, which he knows will rile him even more.

“Ugh. Fuck off , Hale,” Stiles says with exasperation. Derek looks up then, both eyebrows raised. “Don’t even with those eyebrows or I’ll shave one off in your sleep.” Derek surprises Stiles and himself with a bright burst of laughter. The few people around them stop and stare over in shock before remembering it’s rude.

Derek clears his throat. “See you at seven,” he says before looking back down at his script dismissively. Stiles rolls his eyes before walking off, not sure if he’s glad or sad to be leaving Derek already. Stiles then questions if he has masochistic tendencies for wanting to be around the human embodiment of a cactus and shakes it off before climbing into his old jeep. It’s like all his usual professional composure just crumbles when he’s around Derek.

He scrolls through his phone before hitting the call button, which is answered on the second ring like usual. “Lyds, you aren’t going to believe who I just told to fuck off. Also, I’m going to a charity event tonight - help.”

///

Derek rolled his eyes when his phone rang that evening after filming. He was exhausted and already had to deal with Erica yelling at him. He didn’t need his sister following suit. “What, Laura?”

“Hey to you too, baby bro,” she said with a laugh, used to Derek’s gruff exterior. “So a little birdy on set told me they heard you honest to god laugh today?” She asks with genuine curiosity.

“Maybe. Is that the only reason you’re calling me when you know I’ve been filming all day?”

“Well, no, you know I also got a call from a flustered and annoyed Erica this afternoon telling me to, and I quote: ‘Laura, I swear to the moon above you better reign in your brother or I’m going to maim him on the next pack run. His beautiful face will be worthless when I’m done.’ Care to explain?”

Derek huffs a laugh mixed with annoyance - a typical reaction to Erica. “I may have broke up with Jennifer right before the Gala tonight… but in my defense she was getting irritably clingy. She showed up this morning crying about how I never have time for her when I told her I wouldn’t have much when filming started up,” he explains.

“Well, I wanna fuss at you for Erica’s and your reputation’s sake, but I’m kinda glad. She rubbed my wolf the wrong way for some reason,” Laura replies, surprising Derek. His eyebrows lift even though she can’t see.

“Seriously? No grueling alpha speech about breaking hearts?”

Laura laughs. “Oh baby bro, I’ve given it so many times you could recite it with me. I’m just trying to respect your space while you figure yourself out. Although not sleeping around so obviously with multiple people while you’re in the spotlight for filming might be good? You’re a werewolf; at least be more sneaky about it.”

“Everyone that sleeps with me wants all the attention. That’s why they do it in the first place,” Derek replies, more bitter hatred seeping into the words than he intends. “Jennifer was mostly upset we hadn’t gone on enough public dates.”

“I’m sorry, Der. I know finding people to trust in your industry is hard, and the supernatural side of our lives doesn’t make it any easier,” Laura says sympathetically. “You’ll find someone you can completely be yourself with eventually.”

Derek is quiet for a few minutes and Laura waits patiently for him to decide what to say. “It was Stiles. My new assistant,” he says, opting to give that information over delving too deep into his emotional turmoil of never being himself with anyone outside of the pack.

“What?” Laura asks, not following his topic change.

“He’s who made me laugh. Told me to fuck off and threatened to shave off one of my eyebrows,” he explains with a chuckle bordering on fond.

“Aw, Dereeeeek,” she says exaggerating the e. “He sounds like a feisty one. Maybe he’ll stick around this time. Someone has to commit to seeing past your asshole persona.”

“Yeah… maybe he will,” and Derek hopes it's an answer to both statements.

///

Stiles is outside Derek’s loft at 6:45, leaning against the idling black sedan to wait for him. He runs his hand down his charcoal gray suit for the millionth time to make sure there are no wrinkles, only slightly worried Derek won’t think he looks nice enough. His hair is styled by the perfect Lydia Martin, who complained about him needing to trim the sides at least five times. After a few minutes he checks his watch and it’s 6:57. He’s about to get his phone out to call Derek when the door opens and he steps out.

Stiles wants to say he didn’t do the cliche thing, but his breath absolutely caught in his throat, seeing how the navy suit fit just right. Derek had a gray tie on to match Stiles’ suit, and he also had a navy bowtie on to match Derek. Derek obviously trimmed his beard, making his cheekbones stand out even more with its crisp lines. He watches a smirk grow on said perfect face as Stiles remains unusually quiet.

“Like something you see, Stilinski?” Derek asks smugly as he stops in front of Stiles, who’s still leaned against the SUV. Derek’s eyes rake over the boy’s slim figure, accentuated by the suit. It takes more effort than expected to convince his wolf there’s no need to scent him. Not mine , he argues against the instinct . Of course Stiles wore a bowtie rather than the usual tie, Derek notices. It suits him though.

“Do you ever get tired of being cocky? I would be exhausted to keep up with you,” Stiles replies while crossing his arms. He studiously ignores the way Derek is scrutinizing his appearance.

“Hmm, you have low stamina then. Must be terribly inconvenient in bed,” Derek quips, unable to resist the urge to ruffle Stiles’ composure. His wolf is extremely pleased when the boy blushes.

Stiles’ mouth just opens and closes a few times before his cheeks heat further. “I’ll have you know my stamina is just fine! Especially in bed! Like that would make me tired…” Stiles trails off, actually realizing how unprofessional he’s being. In the middle of the street where anyone could hear them, no less.

Derek chuckles at his reaction, a sharp grin painting his features. “After a night with me,” Derek starts, leaning in closer so his breath tickles Stiles’ neck and hand comes up to rest on the sedan by Stiles’ hip. “I promise you’d feel the exhaustion down to your bones.”

Before Stiles can do anything - okay to be honest his brain is offline and needs a second to reboot while he tries to convince his body that no, a boner is not good right now, stop - the hand Derek had on the SUV suddenly opens the door and Stiles stumbles sideways, arms flailing slightly.

Derek laughs again, carefree, and it makes Stiles mumble under his breath, but there’s a slight smile tugging at his lips. He sighs and climbs in behind Derek, asking their driver to head towards the venue.

“Try to behave when we get to the Gala,” Stiles says while looking at his phone, not quite able to meet Derek’s gaze yet.

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Derek replies overly peppy, and Stiles can already tell that means trouble.

Stiles whistles as the vehicle pulls up to the curb in line for the guests arriving. “I’ve seen a lot of reporters at events before, but that’s a new record for me, dude,” he comments as he watches flash after flash of cameras for people walking up the wide concrete stairs to the entrance of the museum where the event is.

“A lot of A-Listers come to this every year,” Derek responds, trying to hide his nervous energy by tapping his fingers on his knee. He’s done this so, so many times and still hates it.

“You alright, big guy?” Stiles asks, of course noticing Derek’s stiff posture and the tapping. Derek’s ability to move around creepily silent has already been noted by Stiles mentally.

“Fine,” he grits out.

“Alright, well it’s almost our turn to get out. Erica said to avoid talking with the reporters because of the recent, uh, Jennifer thing. And her being an asshat and posting about it on Twitter definitely didn’t help…” Stiles trails off, actually pissed for Derek. So just be your usual charming self and head straight for the doors, ‘kay?”

He places a hand on Derek’s shoulder in comfort but gets a pointed glare from his hand to Stiles’ face and back again. “And I’m taking my hand off. Okay let’s go.” The SUV finally comes to a complete stop and Stiles opens the door first, keeping it open for Derek before shutting it firmly and hitting the roof a few times with his hand. The flashes seem to triple from before with Derek’s arrival and Stiles holds his hand up for a minute against the blinding light.

“Derek, do you have anything to say regarding Jennifer?”

“She posted you broke her heart, any reason why?”

“Are you here alone-“

“Oh, is this your date for the evening? Who is he?”

“Derek over here!”

Stiles feels overwhelmed, can see Derek is too, but his training kicks in and he places a firm hand on Derek’s lower back. He leans in close enough for Derek to hear him over the screaming. “Come on. Straight to the door, remember?” he offers comfortingly. Derek nods and begins moving forward, grateful of Stiles’ presence. They’re about halfway up the stairs now, but the questions keep coming.

“Did you dump Jennifer for this new guy?”

“Derek any new developments on the set for this week?”

“Does you ending it with Jennifer have anything to do with Kate being back in town?”

That last one has Derek stopping in his tracks and his head whipping towards the reporter, causing another barrage of questions on the topic that piqued his interest.

Derek is frozen, terrified, thinking Kate may come to this very Gala just because she knows he’ll be there. Stiles comes to Derek’s front, hoping to block out some of the prying piranhas, and looks into Derek’s eyes.

“Breathe for me, big guy. Just focus on me. Everything is fine. A few more steps and we’re home free.” Derek latches onto the slight familiarity of whiskey-brown eyes and nods again, but then another question is yelled louder than the others: “Is it true she’s still under investigation for the death of your family?” Stiles sees something break in those beautiful green eyes staring at him and he snaps.

“Back the fuck off! Now!” He turns around and snaps viciously at everyone crowding around them. There’s a lull of stunned silence and Derek comes back to the present with Stiles’ outburst. His outburst trying to protect him. Derek processes that and scents the air - anger rolling off Stiles in waves, putting his wolf on alert. But Derek really opens his senses, wanting to see Stiles’ perspective on being around him when his guard is down. Needs to know what his real angle is and if he’s just posturing for the headlines.

Everyone else may pretend to help or be nice, but they always have that slight sour smell. That smell Derek has come to associate with those who want to use him, and his eyebrows rise in surprise when all he gets from Stiles is anger, concern, nervousness, and something that reminds him just a bit too much of pack . Before he knows what he’s doing, Derek takes Stiles’ face in both hands and brings their lips together roughly. Stiles doesn’t kiss back at first, eyes wide in shock, but after a second he goes with it, not sure what else to do when pushing Derek away after being obviously upset might make it worse.

As soon as Derek feels Stiles lean into the kiss, that same part of him that kept saying mine earlier comes back full-force and he nips Stiles’ bottom lip before swiping his tongue into his mouth, claiming. A small whine works its way from Stiles’ throat at that before he clutches Derek’s forearms for support. When they finally break apart, Stiles is breathing heavier and his heart is racing. Derek distantly acknowledges the whistles and shouts, but is too enamoured with the shade of Stiles’ lips after being kissed. He wonders what they would look like wrapped around -

“Derek, come on. We should, uh, really get inside now?” Stiles is saying while pulling him up the stairs. They’re holding hands, and Derek doesn’t know when that happened, but he won’t let go until Stiles does. He doesn’t miss the way his wolf hums with content.

Once inside the second set of entry doors, the juxtaposition of calming classical music and quiet conversation shakes Stiles for a moment. He pauses, almost forgetting what just happened, before Derek squeezes his hand and oh, right, that.

“Bathroom. Now,” Stiles grits out, letting go of Derek’s hand and heading towards the sign he sees marking restrooms. When they get there, Stiles is surprised to see a line, and instantly some woman starts talking Derek up. “We need to talk somewhere.” Derek raises his eyebrows like he’s fine with doing so right there, turning away from the flirting chick. “In private, you jerk,” Stiles adds on, making an obvious glance at the people around them.

Derek rolls his eyes but grabs Stiles by the wrist and tugs him through two doors, obviously marked for employees only. They try the first door they come to and it’s… a storage closet. Derek nods for Stiles to go in and he gives him an exasperated look in return.

“Hale, I am so not doing something that cliche right now, like going into a storage closet with you ,” Stiles says with multiple hand gestures. Derek puts his hand in the middle of Stiles’ chest and walks him backwards into the decent-size room and shutting the door behind him. Before Stiles can even get a word out, Derek is crowding him up against the only empty wall. “Hey, no, that is not why I needed to get you alone I - “ He’s cut off when Derek kisses him again and Christ and Cheezits is he a good kisser. “I cannot believe… you did that… in front of everyone…” Stiles says between kisses. He seems to remember this is the opposite of what he’s supposed to be doing and firmly seals his mouth shut by rolling his lips in. Derek simply moves to mouthing down his neck, teeth dragging skin before he bites down enough to leave a mark.

“Derek,” Stiles says on a breathy whine. He feels Derek grin against his neck before he leans back to look at Stiles. Face flushed, bright pink lips parted on a pant, and neck exposed where he leaned his head back against the wall - it’s a sight Derek could get used to. A sight his werewolf instinct keeps repeating right and mine and claim for.

“You were saying, Stiles?” he asks, grin feral, trying to distract himself from the wolf fighting inside him.

“Such an asshole. Whatever. I’m still pissed at you. First, you kiss me without asking in front of all those people which I’m sure is all over the internet by now. Second, this means you pulled me into another freakin’ cliche of people assuming we’re dating. Third, you’re my boss! I don’t date my boss!”

“You didn’t really seem to mind any of that thirty seconds ago,” Derek says with the raise of one eyebrow.

“I mean, okay, you’re attractive and a good kisser, but -” Derek tries to lean in again but Stiles stops him this time by putting his hand right in the middle of his face. “No! Nope, no bueno, the kissing stops right here, right now, in this very romcom closet. Got it?”

Derek huffs against his palm, but nods as much as he can. “Yeah.”

“Good, great, glad that’s settled. If it seems like we broke up after like a week it wouldn’t even be that weird anyway,” Stiles reasons mostly to himself, removing his hand.

The thought is upsetting to his wolf and a low growl slips out before he can stop it. He coughs then, to cover it up, apologizing. There’s a few awkward minutes of silence before Stiles speaks again.

“So, do you want to talk about it? Her, I mean. You don’t have to, just thought I would ask,” he offers. Derek’s eyebrows furrow and he looks away from Stiles’ bright amber eyes.

“I… She… No. I can’t,” Derek gets out. That same broken look from outside crosses his face and Stiles sees a bit under the asshole exterior Derek projects. Of course he has heard of the Hale fire - everyone had - but it was different seeing it affect a surviving family member in person and watching people carelessly throwing such an event in his face. Only Derek and his older sister Laura had survived the attack and Stiles can’t imagine what losing almost all of your family is like. The thought just makes him really want to hug the guy.

“I’m going to hug you now. Commencing platonic hug,” he warns so Derek can pull away if he wants, expecting him to even. He doesn’t expect Derek to bury his face in Stiles’ neck, content to be held. “I know it’s not the same… I can’t even imagine what you went through… but I lost my mom. When I was a kid. Had a form of dementia that… yeah,” Stiles finishes awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say or why he even told Derek that. He feels the arms tighten around him in answering comfort and almost like a thank you. “Totally guessed you were a closet softy,” he says while rubbing a hand up Derek’s back, trying to lighten the mood. “Heh, get it? Closet softy.” Derek nips at Stiles’ neck in retaliation, not wanting to move away from the comforting embrace just yet, and also enjoying scent marking Stiles as well.

“Hey! You agreed!” Stiles whines, pulling his arms back slowly and putting some distance between them.

“You said no kissing. I followed the rules,” Derek says with a smirk, the pain of loss no longer obvious in his eyes. He watches as Stiles’ fingers trace his neck and wince when they glide over the first place he bit that left a mark. It sends a thrill through Derek and he has to resist putting another. “We should probably actually go to this event now,” he offers when Stiles stays quiet, cheeks red. Stiles nods in agreement and follows Derek back into the hallway, back to reality.

///

“Uh, dude, care to explain why I just watched a video of you cuss out some reporters and then make out with Derek Hale ?!” Scott greets over the phone that next morning. Stiles winces, having avoided the internet for that very reason.

“Well, funny story… not really. I dunno, man, I’m his assistant so I got roped into going to that as his date and it just sort of happened?” The whole thing basically sounds like a question because Stiles doesn’t have any idea what last night really was. He’s never reacted so strongly before to antagonizing from reporters… or to being kissed. He still needs to talk with Erica about it too and see if he still even has a job.

“Alright, I just wanted to call and check on you. Are you guys like, dating, or what?” Scott asks.

“No, no, totally not. It was just for show. No need to worry. How are Allison and Victoria?” Stiles shifts topics, and thankfully Scott just rolls with it.

“They’re great! Allison is really liking the new job and Victoria is obsessed with learning how to write all of our names. I’ve got a drawing with Uncle Stiles written on it waiting for you,” Scott gushes, always happy to talk about his girls.

“Maybe we can get together next weekend, yeah?” Stiles offers, a smile on his face at the Uncle in front of his name. His phone starts beeping that he’s getting another call and his face falls when he sees Erica’s name. “Hey Scott, gotta go, duty calls. Let me know about next weekend,” Stiles says quickly.

“Will do, bro. Bye,” Scott says before Stiles answers the other call. He flops down on his couch, and then bounces immediately back up to start pacing.

“Hey, Erica. How’s it going?” Stiles asks timidly. He’s not expecting the happy voice that greets him. It’s enough to make him stop walking for a moment.

“Stiles! This is just amazing. Things couldn’t have turned out better,” Erica starts, enthusiasm obvious but subject less clear.

“Uh, what?” Stiles asks eloquently.

“Have you not been on social media?” She asks like it’s unthinkable. “The video of you fighting off reporters and The Kiss has gone viral. One reporter figured out who you are and the ship name Sterek is trending on Twitter and Tumblr right now,” Erica explains, emphasizing ‘the kiss’ like it’s a title or something. Stiles can’t decide if he’s happy or upset or freaked out.

“So I’m not fired?” This time when Stiles sits on his couch he stays there, bouncing one leg.

“Fired?! Of course not! Derek hasn’t had this kind of positive response to a relationship in… ever?” She says with a laugh. Stiles runs a hand through his hair nervously.

“We aren’t an item though? He just kissed me suddenly, and not that it was bad or anything, but come on, he has no desire for a committed relationship - especially not with someone like me,” Stiles explains, not wanting Erica to get her hopes up. She scoffs.

“One, you are one hundred and ten percent Derek’s type, so get that self-deprecating attitude out of my face. Two, if it’s not an actual thing then I want to ask you if you’d be willing to make it a strictly business thing. Work it into your contract,” she says, voice switching to a confident business tone easily. Stiles’ face flushes at her comment of being Derek’s type and it takes him a minute to process her second sentence.

“Wait, you want to hire me to also be his fake boyfriend? I am understanding that correctly?” Stiles questions. “Am I living in an actual romcom now?” He throws an exasperated hand into the air for good measure, even though Erica can’t see it.

“That’s exactly what I want, yes,” she says like it’s a perfectly normal thing to ask.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind posing as his… boyfriend, if it helps his image or whatever. I’m going to be spending a ton of time with him anyway because of my job,” Stiles says, but before he can continue Erica starts talking.

“Great! I’ll get a new contract made up for you to sign after I speak with Derek and confirm it’s okay with him.”

“Wait! Wait,  you didn’t let me finish. I don’t want to be paid any more than current salary. It would just feel… wrong, you know? I just want guidelines set in place so I know what’s expected of me and to place some boundaries,” Stiles finishes. Even if it’s not for something like sex, getting paid for a relationship would just make Stiles feel cheap and it rubs him the wrong way.

“Okay…” Erica says like she doesn’t quite believe him. “What kind of boundaries?”

“I don’t mind physical contact - like holding hands or hugging - when in public, but there’s gotta be a line for no kissing. I don’t think I can do that.”

“Alright, that’s fine. It’ll all be added in for you and Derek to look over,” Erica says, obviously pleased. “And thank you, Stiles, for doing this. I know you don’t know Derek, but he really is a great guy. Just deep down under all that scowling and asshole attitude. Between me and you, most of that is an act because of how much he can’t trust anyone. His trust has just been broken too many times.” And the way Erica says the last sentence on a sad whisper, Stiles believes her. He can tell she cares for Derek as a friend, beyond just normal agent-actor relationship. Can’t be all bad then.

“You’re welcome. I’ll keep an eye out for that email. Talk to you soon,” Stiles says as way of goodbye. He heads towards the kitchen to begin making lunch.

“Bye, Stiles.” After pressing the end-call button, he stares at the screen for a moment before quickly pressing the Twitter icon. He thumbs over to the search bar and sure enough there’s the hashtag listed as trending. He clicks #Sterek before he chickens out.

“Hey Derek! So, great job with the whole fake date. Kissing Stiles against his will was A+ class, really, especially in front of all those people” Erica says as she barges past Derek who just opened his house’s door for her. She immediately flops onto the couch, obviously familiar with it. She is. They alternate pack hangouts between all the members’ houses regularly so the scent is in all of them, to help comfort everyone.

“Nice to see you too, Erica,” Derek says deadpanned while walking to stand by the couch. “I didn’t really do it on purpose… I had frozen and there were people everywhere and then he reacted so strongly… god Erica I already had to keep my wolf on a tight leash around him and then he goes and protects me. It was an instinctual reaction!” He says, throwing both hands up before flopping down next to her on the couch.

“Have you talked to Laura about how your wolf reacts to him? Because honestly Derek… that’s what happened when I met Boyd,” she says, giving him a sympathetic look. “You ever think he might actually be good for you? Be a good mate?”

“I just can’t, Erica. Not after Kate… that was only three years ago,” Derek replies looking down at his hands. Erica places a comforting grip on his bicep.

“I know, Der. Just wanted to let you know. Also, if you’re fine with keeping up the fake dating charade, Stiles agreed to work it into his contract. Since it got such a positive response.” Derek immediately stiffened beside her and Erica heard his teeth grate together.

“Didn’t you just complain about me kissing Stiles against his will? Now you’re convincing him to sign papers about it?” Derek won’t look her in the eye though. His head is spinning and there’s a pain in his chest he hasn’t felt in a while. Of course Stiles was just in it for the money. That’s what it always came down to with people in Derek’s life outside of pack - money or fame.

“Hey, you started the fire, I’m just fanning the flames a little,” she protests, but looks slightly sheepish about it. “I asked, he agreed. No harm no foul. He wanted some guidelines and boundaries drawn up - agreeing to accompany you as your date to events, occasional public dates, that sort of thing. He said no kissing though,” she says while suggestively wiggling her eyebrows up and down. Derek just rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. I won’t want to kiss him anyway,” Derek says, feeling a bitter taste flood his mouth at the thought of Stiles’ interest in him not being genuine. That it really is just for the money. The whole thing just makes Derek want to be more of an asshole - it’s his defense mechanism.

“Oh, I’m sure. Totally normal heartbeat just then. Your wolf doesn’t believe that,” Erica replies skeptically. Derek chooses to ignore her, and his wolf instinct, set on proving them both wrong.

///

It’s Sunday afternoon when Stiles hears a knock on his door. Surprised by a visitor, he quickly throws on a shirt and adjusts his sweatpants before padding over to the entrance. It’s a delivery woman, holding a small box for him to sign for. He retreats back inside his apartment and sits back on the couch to open it

Inside is a smaller black box with a note taped to the top. He flips the paper open.

    ‘Erica said we should have some dumb matching couple thing, so here it is.

Wear it if you want, sweetheart .’

Stiles does not blush at the nickname, especially because it’s written with obvious sarcasm to its slanted letters. He doesn’t. He does open the black box to see a beautiful bracelet. It’s a dark brown leather with a single silver crescent moon attached to its center. Stiles runs his thumb across the charm, smiling sadly at it. I would have loved this. If it was given by someone who cared.

Regardless, he takes it out of the box and opens the small clasp before wrapping it around his left wrist to secure it. It’s slightly loose but fits almost perfectly snug and Stiles sighs before packing the box back up to throw out. “What did you get yourself into, Stilinski?” he asks himself quietly.

Chapter Text

A few days later and Stiles is waiting in their usual SUV patiently for Derek to wrap filming for the morning before his photoshoot this afternoon. He chats with their driver some about his family before the back door is tugged open with enough force to rock the vehicle. Stiles stops mid-sentence at the scowl painted across Derek’s face, the scrunch of his eyebrows, the tense shoulders.

“Uh, hey, Derek. Rough day filming?” Stiles asks cautiously while Derek slides in beside him, buckling his seatbelt. Derek’s gaze cuts over sharply to Stiles, glare still in place, like it’s all his assistant’s fault he’s having a bad day. It is, but Derek will barely admit that to himself, let alone Stiles.

“Trouble concentrating and remembering lines. It happens some days,” Derek offers, revealing enough that Stiles won’t push it. As expected, Stiles’ eyebrows raise in response at receiving an answer other than a grunt. The boy quickly looks out the window to hide his reaction, and Derek watches a slight blush tinge his neck. It’s not only Stiles distracting him, it’s the full moon in three days, and he has to restrain his wolf even more than usual while being in the car with Stiles whose scent still calls to him.

“Well lucky for you, I’m awesome, and got you a Dr. Pepper - your favorite,” Stiles says, recovering with a smile and holding out the still slightly cold bottle to Derek. The actor hides his surprise better than Stiles, but gives a small smile and thanks. Since the beginning of their arrangement almost a week ago, Stiles has been bringing Derek things: sodas, coffee, his favorite candy and food. Derek can’t figure out if it’s all for show or if something else is up.

He does always notice the leather bracelet that looks beautiful wrapped around Stiles’ pale wrist and tries not to let his wolf preen about marking Stiles in some way, especially because it’s not even real. Derek reaches without thinking and slips two fingers under the leather band, tugging gently. He catches the hitch in Stiles’ breath and watches his whiskey eyes widen.

“You always wear it?” Derek means for it to come out as a statement, an observation, but it tumbles out more a question instead. His fingers rest gently against Stiles wrist where his pulse pounds rapidly.

Stiles swallows a few times before replying. “Yeah.” His eyes cut to the matching one on Derek’s wrist, a full moon charm instead. “So do you.” Stiles holds Derek’s gaze for what must only be a minute but feels like hours, tension cracking between them. Just as Stiles’ gaze cuts down to Derek’s lips and his wolf pushes to take the driver clears his throat and the moment snaps, Derek pulling his hand back into his own space.

“We’re to the studio, Sirs,” Ralph announces from the driver’s seat, pointedly looking ahead. The studio is actually an apartment with a very traditional facade that’s been painted white to update it, brick and wood alike. Stiles pats the older man on the shoulder before opening the door.

“Thanks Ralph. Should be done in a couple hours. I’ll text you,” Stiles says, getting a nod in confirmation before climbing out onto the street with Derek right behind him. They walk up the few steps onto a quaint porch before Stiles knocks on the door. “This is for a GQ cover and feature, you remember? I think it’s in partner with some famous suit designer, so I’m sure you’ll be wearing some of his stuff,” Stiles summarizes. Derek realizes he’s standing with his front almost plastered to Stiles’ back and he takes a half-step back.

“What are you going to do? While they shoot?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs and waves his phone in the air a few times. “Probably email people about your schedule. Speaking of, Erica wants us to plan a public date, so we need to figure out where -” The door swinging open cuts off Stiles when a woman holding an iPad smiles brightly at the two, ushering for them to come inside. But Derek knew what Stiles was going to say, and the business tone of discussing a date for them makes him close himself off, wrapping himself in his defences. Which means he’s bound to be an asshole. Stiles turns back to look at Derek and his eyebrows lift in question at the shuttered expression greeting him.

“What?” Derek snaps, slightly harsher than intended, but effective nonetheless. Hurt flashes across Stiles’ eyes before he rolls them to cover it up.

“Ah, there’s the asshole I know. Thought maybe he had been kidnapped by common decency,” Stiles snarks as they walk down a hallway to the room the shoot is in. They arrive to the room filled with people setting up equipment and organizing racks of suits.

“Just shut up and stay out of the way, Stilinski,” Derek says, letting a growl underlie his words.

“Whatever, Hale ,” Stiles throws back before Derek is whisked away by wardrobe and makeup artist and Stiles finds a corner to reside in. He notes the room is really open and bright with blonde wood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows allowing plenty of afternoon sun in. He doesn’t think about how that will make Derek’s eye color pop or make his cheekbones stand out even more. What he does is sit down and become absorbed in his work, ignoring the way he had felt in the car ride here, and especially ignoring the hurt when Derek reverted back to his old self.

About forty-five minutes later, the photographer - Mason, he had introduced himself as looking slightly younger than Stiles himself - was settling in to take a few test shots of Derek to determine if the lighting was going to work. As the white noise of talking fell away, Stiles looked up, and he felt his mouth fall open slightly before closing it quickly. Derek was stunning as always, the emerald and black suit fitting him so well and bringing out the green in his eyes. He was standing in front of a white backdrop that Stiles assumed was for the cover shot.

Derek looked to Stiles’ corner when the photographer stopped to examine the photos on the computer screen. The actor’s mouth ticked up in a smirk that had Stiles wondering if Derek could tell how fast his heart was racing. He pointedly looked back down, ignoring Derek, even when Mason announced they would begin shooting for real.

There was nothing but the sound of a lens clicking and soft instructions for how Derek should move around. Stiles could hear the instructions become slightly frustrated though after about ten minutes, and the atmosphere in the room shifted slightly.

“Derek,” Mason said, getting everyone in the room’s attention. “You okay, man? You seem a bit stiff.” Derek looks down at his shoes, hands clenched to fists at his sides. He’s having to exert too much control between being upset about Stiles mentioning their arrangement and reminding him that Stiles doesn’t care, that it’s only for the money, and his wolf pacing inside him on edge from the full moon and Stiles being in the room.

“I’m fine,” Derek grits out, looking Mason in the eyes. The photographer takes an instinctive step back, feeling the threat coming off the wolf in waves, but not truly understanding. Stiles is next to them instantly, placing a hand on Derek’s bicep and holding the other up to calm Mason, like you would a startled animal.

“Sorry, Mason, he’s fine. Just had a rough morning. Give him a sec and he’ll be right as rain, yeah?” Stiles doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t even remember walking over there, but some instinct drove him to calm and comfort. Derek relaxed instantly at Stiles’ touch, his wolf placated with it.

“I can handle this, Stiles,” Derek says with a glare, but he doesn’t remove his hand. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, you were doing a wonderful job if your goal was to scare people with your… everything,” Stiles says, gesturing to all of Derek. “Oscar worthy performance, really.”

“I’m not even trying to be scary,” Derek says, stepping into Stiles’ personal space so their faces are only inches apart. “But I can be, if you’d like,” he says before flashing a feral smile Stiles has seen before. It makes him remember the storage closet, the kisses, and he steels himself, even when the spark of arousal travels through him. Derek’s wolf preens when he scents it in the air.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Stiles says with conviction, looking Derek directly in the eyes, squeezing the arm he still holds.

Derek’s wolf is pushing again, thrilled at the challenge, at Stiles’ attention. The want and take and mine slamming into Derek anew. A flash and shutter sound has both men whipping their heads around though, Mason now having their attention, but the electricity still cracking through the air. The photographer just offers a small wave and unsure smile.

“Sorry, I just, had to? I mean the two of you, together, is… wow. Stiles would you be willing to be part of the shoot?” Mason says quickly, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Oh. What? Me?” Stiles asks incredulously. “I wouldn’t fit your… image.” Derek notices Stiles’ scent shift and take on this horrible burnt smell to its usual sweet one. He picks up fragmented impressions of embarrassment, doubt, shame and he hates it. So riding on his current adrenaline high he speaks next.

“What, Stilinski? Don’t think you can keep up with me?” It’s all challenge and when Stiles whips around to glare at him, Derek sees a spark in his eyes and the scent slowly switches back to what he’s familiar with.

“Shut up, Hale. You want a challenge, you’ve got one,” Stiles declares.

“You’ll do it?” Mason questions optimistically, already motioning at wardrobe and makeup.

“Yeah, I got this,” he assures. I do not have this. Stiles tries not to freak out as a charcoal suit with black leather elbow patches is held for him to put on and tailored black pants which are quickly make-shift altered to fit Stiles are handed to him. Derek only wears shoes one size larger than him too, so he slips those on and suddenly it’s all real and overwhelming.

He walks up to stand in front of Derek while they set up equipment again, but he just looks at his shoes. They are very shiny and deserve attention. He distantly registers Mason telling them he’s ready but Stiles still doesn’t look up. Then Derek’s hand is cupping his chin, thumb resting just below his bottom lip, and lifting his head to meet his gaze. Stiles tunes out the people, the flashes, everything but he and Derek.

“Lose your nerve?” Derek asks, soft but still challenging with the raise of an eyebrow. He places his other hand on Stiles’ lower back and tugs his body against his, craving that thrum of energy they had before. Derek leans in, lips brushing Stiles’ ear and smirking when it elicits a shiver. “Come on, sweetheart. Thought you were going to challenge me.”

Stiles shivers at the nickname, the feel of Derek against him, the rush of something that makes his brain kick into gear and gives him confidence. Derek practically purrs at the sharp spike in arousal he scents, wondering if it’s the nickname or sensitive ears, possibly both. Stiles is moving though, posing with Derek, and looking towards Mason again.

They do a few different poses with Stiles still pulled up against the side of Derek’s body, both men varying looking at the camera and each other. Stiles runs a hand up the front of Derek’s jacket, resting his hand just below the other’s shoulder while burying his face in Derek’s neck before he turns just enough to peek one eye at the camera, smirk on his face. Derek’s heart pounds at the closeness, the implications of scenting, and wonders if Stiles can feel the pounding rhythm against his hand.

“Perfect, guys hold just like that. Derek look at me too,” Mason says, continuing his steady stream of instructions.

They do a few sitting together in the actual room, not with the background. Derek sits on the bed, one leg hanging off that Stiles leans against as he sits on the floor. Derek is loosened up enough to take some solo ones to mix in with theirs for the article.

The crew finally call wrap for the shoot and Stiles feels relieved that it’s over. Honestly, being around Derek like this, it makes it hard to control his feelings. Feelings he’s still mostly in denial about having.

Stiles is waiting for Derek in the living room while the other man changes back into his own clothes. He’s distracted looking at his phone to text Ralph when someone pushes up against his back, breath ghosting across his neck. Stiles knows it’s Derek instantly.

“Do you like when I call you sweetheart?” is whispered into his ear and Stiles blushes furiously.

“Of course not,” Stiles replies indignantly, pocketing his phone. Derek catches the obvious skip in his heartbeat and can’t help but smile.

“Liar.”

///

It’s been ten days since the photoshoot. Ten days of Stiles berating himself for getting caught up in Derek and what the hell was I thinking doing a photoshoot with him?! But it’s like Stiles can’t help himself when it comes to Derek. He’s so screwed. Yeah, Derek can still be abrasive sometimes when they're alone, but Stiles has just learned that Derek is just that way. Sometimes it's even really dry humor, if you squint. But other times, like on their date, Stiles just goes along for the ride and tries not to fall in love. Because date Derek is charming and attractive and calls him sweetheart while nuzzling into his neck. Stiles isn't sure if he can go along with this and not fall for Derek.

A notification for a new email pulls him out of his internal monologue and he sees it’s from Erica. The subject just says ‘Damn Son’ and he hesitates to click open. There are a few images attached that take a moment to load. Stiles notes the only other text in the email is a winky face.

The photos finally load and Stiles doesn’t breathe for at least a minute. They look… really good together? Like, Stiles is really impressed the photos turned out so well, even if that’s mostly Mason’s doing.

Stiles definitely does not download them to his phone.

///

Derek is surprised to also see Laura when he walks into Erica’s office. He had received a text calling for an emergency meeting that afternoon, not sure if pack or industry related.

“Hey, Der. Have a seat,” Laura says, motioning to the chair across from her. Derek knows that voice - it’s her ‘I’m trying not to use my Alpha voice on you but it’s very difficult’ one. He glances nervously at Erica behind her desk before sitting.

“What’s this about?” He finally asks when they both stay quiet. Erica swivels her desktop screen around to face him.

“This,” is all she says, hand waving dramatically. Derek takes in the image. It’s a photo from his and Stiles’ shoot, but almost the entire upper half is distorted by a lens flare caused by his eyes.

“Uhh…” Derek says intelligently.

“Uhh nothing. Derek! You have never slipped and flashed your eyes in such a public way. What the hell happened?” Laura demands, sitting forward in her seat, elbows on her knees.

“Stiles wasn’t even supposed to be in that shoot,” Erica adds. “I mean, it turned out great, but still. We could’ve planned it further from the full moon.”

“It was just being around him so much and the pull of the moon. I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly, looking down at his fists clenched in his lap. “I’d like to promise it won’t happen again, but honestly, with Stiles? I can’t really tell,” Derek admits.

“I’ve talked with Erica about this. She mentioned how your wolf responds to him… I think we should call the fake relationship off,” Laura supplies, eyes hard. “Your reputation isn’t more important than keeping our secret.” A part of Derek would be glad to not have the obligation anymore. The other part already misses the excuse to be around Stiles and hearing his snarky comebacks, random topics, and bright smiles.

“No, no. It’ll be fine. I can control this. No more slip-ups.” Derek looks at them both pleadingly.

“I think you should just tell Stiles how you feel,” Erica says. “I mean, if you can’t tell by these photos, he’s obviously into you.”

Derek shakes his head. “He has made it very clear he won’t date his boss. And how can he like me? I’m always an asshole to him.”

“Hey, I’m not judging the guy’s taste,” Laura jabs, grinning at Derek who rolls his eyes. It's a very sibling-like exchange. “But Derek,” she adds, softer. “It’s not fair to you or your wolf to hold back. Just tell Stiles and see what happens.”

“Based on his contract, he obviously wants to keep this all business,” Derek says, looking at them both. “So I will too.” Derek is the only one who even remotely believes those words to be true. Erica and Laura share a look before they both sigh simultaneously.

"If you say so, Der. Don't be late for the pack hangout tonight at Isaac's," Laura says, agreeing to give Derek another chance with Stiles.

///

It’s been two months. Two months of seemingly perfect dates and Derek wants to die. He doesn’t care if he’s being melodramatic because he does . Stiles just gets more amazing, more perfect, more tempting the longer they’re together and it’s gotten a lot harder on Derek to keep up the asshole act. And he hasn't slipped up again with his wolf once - he's pretty proud of himself.

He enjoys their dates, even if they’re fake. He pretends they aren’t and it helps. There’s even a photo of him genuinely laughing at something Stiles said, who also has a proud smirk on his face, that heavily circulated the web after that date. Derek might have it saved to his phone and look at it multiple times a day.

I am not having an internal crisis. Derek paces his trailer, hands running through his hair. Stiles even brings his favorite pizza to Derek on Fridays when they’re filming. Who does that? He’s always on time, never over schedules, and puts up with Derek’s personality with snark and a smile and did Derek mention wanting to die? Stiles is perfect in his lovable imperfect way and it drives Derek - and his wolf - crazy.

He should just tell Stiles, right? He will. Maybe even if Stiles initially started all this for the money, he might like Derek back too. He could get him another job with someone else. Derek has been pining for two months now and he just wants so badly and then every time he remembers that damn contract it’s like being doused with cold water.

///

“Hey, we need to schedule our next date,” Stiles says upon entering Derek’s trailer later that same day. He says it with a completely business-like tone like always and it grates on Derek’s already fragile nerves.

“I want to go out tonight. Like to a club,” Derek says, voice firm. Stiles looks at him with one raised eyebrow and crosses his arms.

“You just want to go so you can pick up some girl or guy. Which I have to remind you doesn’t give off happy-lovey couple vibes,” Stiles says with a frown, trying not to examine why the thought makes him feel unhappy. Denial is an old friend. Derek picks up on his agitation.

“Are you jealous ?” Derek asks, both eyebrows raised.

“No. It’s just annoying to deal with while playing this charade. Fuck off, Hale,” Stiles adds the last bit when Derek smirks - which he only did because Stiles’ heartbeat stuttered over the no .

“Come on. I haven’t been out in forever. You can even pick the club?” Derek persists, smirk turning into a grin with Stiles’ sigh and nod.

“Whatever. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

Stiles imagines he could handle going to a club. Derek could do whatever and he would just chill in a VIP lounge booth while having a few drinks. He had been right so far, even enjoying some simple conversing - it was hard to hear over the music - with Derek. But no, that would be too easy. Soon Derek is standing up and ruining it.

“I want to dance ,” he says, already moving slightly to the music. Stiles looks disdainfully from Derek to the sea of bodies gyrating to the fast beat. “I mean, I can go alone. Better hope no one takes a photo,” Derek says with a thinly veiled threat. Stiles just rolls his eyes then.

“They don’t allow photos in here. Security will throw them out and confiscate it. That’s why I picked this club, Hale,” Stiles says dismissively before taking a sip of his mixed drink.

“Fine. Just stay here then,” Derek huffs. He knows dancing near Stiles would be a bad idea anyway. He starts to walk away. “You couldn’t keep up with me anyway,” Derek can’t help tossing over his shoulder because he tends to want things that are bad for him.

“Excuse you. What was that?” Stiles challenges, squinting in a glare at the actor’s back which he tries to ignore how the black shirt Derek’s wearing stretches tightly across all the muscle - did he say ignores? More like can’t stop staring.

“You heard me.” Derek easily drifts into the throng of bodies while Stiles is left to stare after him. He downs the rest of his drink, but it still takes him a few minutes to work up his courage and ignore the voice screaming this is a really bad idea . Two can play this game.

After making his way towards the center of the dance floor, Derek immediately notices when another werewolf enters the club. It’s just a beta based on its scent, but it makes a beeline for the dance floor. The Were finds him, a guy in his mid-twenties with light brown hair and an athletic build, obviously scoping him out before deeming him harmless and continuing on his way to dance. Derek starts dancing with the people around him, letting the music flow through him, his eyes slipping closed. He doesn’t open them again until he catches Stiles’ scent, close enough to detect through all the others.

Except when he does, Stiles is dancing with a guy. Well, it’s not really dancing, it’s more like grinding because of the song playing. Derek’s eyes snap from Stiles’ moving hips to the guy’s face when he catches the other werewolf’s scent again - and of course. Out of all the guys in this club he dances with him. Derek’s wolf practically howls in outrage when the other Werewolf looks him dead in the eyes and smirks - Derek knows his scent is all over Stiles from how much time they spend together - and the other wolf doesn’t care.

Stiles looks right at Derek while grinding on the random guy who came up behind him and wrapped a hand around one of his hips. His desire to get back at Derek for making him come dance overpowers the slight anxiety he gets doing so with a stranger.

Derek doesn’t remember moving, but he’s suddenly right next to Stiles. He quickly flashes his blue eyes at the other wolf, partly threat and partly reaction to seeing his hand on Stiles. The other beta’s eyes flash gold in response and he’s suddenly backing off, the knowledge of why Derek’s wolf eyes are blue enough to scare him.

Stiles frowns up at him. “You can’t just scare off who I decide to dance with.” Derek grabs his wrist that has the leather bracelet wrapped around it like always.

“For all they know, you’re mine,” he says, brushing a thumb over the charm.  His instincts tell him to mark Stiles even more when his words cause the smell of arousal to hit his nose. Derek yanks Stiles against him, trapping him with a hand on his lower back dangerously close to his ass, and placing Stiles’ hand he’s holding on his own neck. He leans his forehead against Stiles’ and moves his hips to the new song, slightly slower but no less perfect for grinding.

Stiles can’t help the gasp he takes when Derek starts dancing with him. He’s still recovering from the verbal assault of you’re mine ringing in his ears. His body isn’t cooperating and working on autopilot which is why suddenly the hand on Derek’s neck is now tangled in soft, black hair and the other is gripping a strong bicep, his hips responding to Derek’s movements fluidly. They just dance, breathing in each others’ air, eyes closed while enjoying the friction.

Derek’s free hand comes up to grip the back of Stiles’ neck before he shifts slightly to talk into his ear to be heard over the music. “Trying to make me jealous by dancing on another guy, sweetheart?” He asks, and the skip in Stiles’ heartbeat is answer enough. “We both know you only get this worked up for me, Stiles,” Derek says confidently before sucking on the skin just below Stiles’ ear.

A shiver works down Stiles’ spine at Derek’s words and when he sucks hard enough to leave a bruise a whimper slips out. The noise would’ve been lost to the music if not for Derek’s heightened hearing and he smiles against Stiles’ neck.

“Those little desperate whines you make drive me crazy,” Derek murmurs into his skin, neither stopping their hips from moving against each other. Derek could feel himself getting hard and knew Stiles was too.

“Pretty sure,” Stiles pants out. “This blows past physical touch requirements in the contract.” Stiles isn’t sure if Derek is doing this just to put on a good show, because even with no photos people will still talk. Or, if Derek is just doing this to mess with him. He ignores the hopeful voice in his head offering a third option that Derek’s doing it because he likes Stiles. At the mention of the contract though, Derek’s grip tightens on his neck and waist just shy of painful.

Blunt teeth glide down the column of Stiles’ throat before settling where his shoulder begins and biting down to leave another mark. It’s like Derek can’t control it and needs to mark Stiles, letting his bitterness towards that stupid contract give him wild abandon for consequences. The moan Stiles releases at that makes Derek move to the opposite side of his neck and leave another mark.

“ Fuck , Derek,” Stiles says on another moan. He lets his head fall back, exposing his neck, and Derek’s dick twitches at the sight.

“Technically I’m still following your rules - no kissing,” Derek argues after licking over the fresh mark. “Now they’ll all know who you belong to,” he says against Stiles’ ear before biting it gently too. Stiles lets out a whine, not sure if he can even form words anymore. “And your mouth, you don’t know what it does to me. I keep imagining those pretty lips wrapped around my cock,” Derek keeps going, moving a hand to grip Stiles’ chin, thumb resting on his bottom lip.

Derek watches as Stiles’ tongue darts out to lick the digit. He looks up to Stiles’ eyes and sees they’re already looking at him, color lost in the mix of bright strobe lights. Derek rolls his hips and watches as Stiles briefly closes his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

“Please,” is murmured so quietly, even Derek almost doesn’t hear it. But he does and holds back a moan.

“If you want something baby, all you have to do is ask,” Derek tells him. He feels drunk, even though he knows regular alcohol can’t make him. He’s drunk off Stiles in a way he’s never been with another person before and it makes him want to take and take until there’s nothing left. Break Stiles apart just to put him back together again. Stiles has the same lust-clouded look in his eyes and he struggles to ask for what he wants, words being too much right now.

Instead, he leans forward and kisses Derek, thinking it will get the message across. Their tongues meet messily but Stiles feels like it’s the best thing he’s ever done and tightens his grip on Derek’s hair before tilting his head to just the right angle. They kiss for a few heated minutes before breaking apart for air. They look each other in the eye for a moment before Derek makes a decision and drags Stiles off the dance floor through all the people to where he knows the restrooms are.

Stiles back slams against the stall wall before he’s covered with Derek who pushes a knee between his legs before claiming his mouth in a desperate kiss. Stiles returns it with as much enthusiasm, small sounds escaping from the back of his throat. Derek can’t help but smile at the juxtaposition of how Stiles never stops talking, except apparently when turned on.

Derek goes for the button of Stiles’ jeans and feels the body beneath him stiffen. He looks up to find Stiles staring back at him, eyes wide with something close to fear, but still clouded with lust.

“I… I can’t, shit, what are we doing Derek? I don’t want to do something like this because of a contract,” Stiles says quietly. He can’t bring himself to be with Derek while the contract is still in place. He wants to know Derek actually wants him, not just for show, and not just for sex.

Derek immediately recoils and puts some space between them. Stiles is only doing this because of the contract. Derek feels sick, like bitter bile is rising in his throat. Even worse, he feels like he’s somehow manipulated Stiles into this because of it and it reminds him too much of Kate.

“Derek…” Stiles starts, hand reaching to cup the side of his face. Derek dodges the contact though, looking down at his feet. He doesn’t see the broken hope that filters across Stiles’ expression. Doesn’t see that Stiles thinks Derek only wants him out of a contractual obligation as well.

Instead he leaves the bathroom, never saying anything, and heads back out into the club. Stiles doesn’t follow him and he just feels numb. The first guy that comes up to hit on him, Derek flirts back, running on autopilot. He briefly catches Stiles’ eyes as the guy pulls him towards the back exit of the club. Derek doesn’t look back and neither does Stiles.

Chapter Text

Stiles stands outside of Derek’s door for a solid ten minutes passing the key back and forth between his hands. They key Erica had casually given him a few weeks ago in case he needed to get into Derek’s condo for whatever reason. It was convenient but also felt invasive - Stiles had yet to use it.

But, eight unanswered calls and fourteen texts later, here he was, about to use it anyway. Seeing Derek go home with another guy last night definitely wasn’t making this any easier. Stiles was worried he would go up there to see Derek still curled around that nobody, hair messy and voice gruff from sleep, and he didn’t think he could handle that. Especially because he wanted it for himself so badly. But making sure Derek got to his appointments on time was his job just like last night was technically his job so he was going to go up there and do his job.

Stiles locks the door behind him and treads quietly down the hall to where he knows the open plan kitchen, dining, and living room is. Through that is the hall to Derek’s bedroom and he hesitates before getting to the doorway. He has to take a few deep breaths before stepping into Derek’s space.

He’s surprised - and grateful - to see the bed only has one person and not two. He’s also surprised to see the floor to ceiling windows on one wall have their curtains open, letting in tons of natural light. When Stiles has a hangover, sunlight is enemy number two (after loud noises).

Stiles is almost next to the bed, where he intended to shake Derek awake, but then the other man is shooting straight up into a sitting position - sheets falling down around slim hips and Stiles’ eyes grow wide at the exposed chest in front of him. Stupid Derek and his stupid face and his stupid chest. Stiles is startled and apparently Derek is too because they both just stare at each other for about a minute before Derek’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. The Werewolf is concerned that he’s so comfortable with Stiles’ scent he didn’t even wake.

“What are you doing here? In my house?” There’s the rough voice Stiles was fearing. The ruffled bed hair was already obvious. Stiles is continually reaffirming this was a bad idea.

“Uh,” is all he replies, still trying to figure out where to put his eyes. He settles for the ceiling. “Erica gave me a key? And you weren’t answering your phone? So I came in?” Stiles replies, everything slightly high-pitched and like a question. Derek just lifts an eyebrow at him. “You hungry? I’m sure you haven’t eaten. I’ll go make you something while you get ready or whatever,” Stiles continues, seeking distance. Derek just stares at him some more so Stiles walks - totally doesn’t run - out of the room back to the safety of the kitchen where he begins getting ingredients out.

He vaguely registers the shower turning on and then off while he cooks, humming to himself as a distraction. Stiles had kissed Derek last night. He had broken the contract and had hoped Derek would get the meaning behind that - that he wanted him outside of this fake clusterfuck but he didn’t. And Derek immediately just took home another guy, so obviously he was only using Stiles to get off. Not like there were any feelings involved.

Stiles is so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t hear Derek come into the room. Though to be fair Derek is so quiet he never hears him. Suddenly Derek’s face is leaning over his shoulder though, causing Stiles to spaz and almost drop the spatula.

“Why are you cooking me breakfast?” Derek asks, eyes cutting to Stiles’ face. Stiles wills his heart to slow down.

“I might as well. You have to eat, and this will make it where we can leave faster,” he explains logically. Derek doesn’t back up out of his personal space and Stiles can tell he smells fresh from the shower but still inherently like Derek.

“No, I mean why would you bother? I’ve been nothing but a jerk to you.” Derek is confused to have Stiles there, in his home, cooking for him like he cares. His house is going to have Stiles’ scent lingering around for days and it’s bittersweet really, but frustrating too.

“It’s my job to take care of you,” Stiles finally replies. He’s trying to convince himself, but Derek catches a skip in his heartbeat. It’s not the truth - at least not the whole truth. “I’m surprised you didn’t keep the guy from last night around so he could make you breakfast,” Stiles adds on, more venom than intended lacing the words. He hadn’t meant to say them out loud really, but his brain to mouth (entire body) filter tended to malfunction around Derek.

Derek’s mind flashes back to the club last night. To the random guy who flirted with him and offered to go home with Derek. To Stiles seeing them and then walking away. Derek and the guy - Max? Matt? - had got as far as making out against the wall in the alley behind the club. But he felt wrong, smelled wrong to Derek and he had pushed away from the body beneath him. His wolf was not on board for anyone except Stiles it seemed and Derek scowled in frustration before claiming to have had too many drinks and leaving Matt alone against the wall. He managed to hail a cab and immediately passed out after making it to his bed.

But Stiles thinks Derek brought the random guy home. Stiles smells bitter and jealous and the wolf in Derek pushes against the surface, wants Stiles attention, still chants mine. Derek can’t lose control, promised Laura he wouldn’t, so he finds his anchor and latches on, the anger a familiar balm.

“You think cause we’re in a fake relationship I’m just going to stop getting laid?” Derek snides before he huffs in disbelief. “What, are you going to volunteer?”

Stiles flushes red, even his ears, and his wolf preens at the hint of arousal he manages to pull from the boy. Derek leans in closer, nose nuzzling right behind Stiles’ ear. “Is that a yes?”

The silence stretches for a few tense seconds, neither of them moving. A part of Stiles wants to say yes, always wants to say yes to Derek. But he wants more than a hook-up, so he steels himself before answering.“Fuck off, Hale. Your food is done. Here,” Stiles grits out, shoving out from in front of Derek’s body. He plates the scrambled eggs and grabs the toast from the toaster when it dings seconds later.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Derek says, watching Stiles stalk around the island, putting distance between them. His face is still blotched red but his scent changes to be darkened by sadness. It makes Derek instantly regret being so callous.

“You’re welcome, babe,” Stiles quips back just as biting. He leaves the kitchen before Derek can say anything else, seeking refuge in the guest bathroom located off the living room. His hands grip the edge of the vanity as he looks in the mirror. “Get your shit together, Stilinski. He’s obviously riling you up on purpose, so just let it go,” Stiles tells himself. After about five minutes and splashing some water on his face, he goes back out to face Derek. He’s here to do his job and nothing else.

The car ride to the film set is stilted and awkward with Ralph occasionally making conversation with Stiles. But then he asks how their night was and it goes to total silence until they reach location. Just before Derek gets out, hand on the door, he turns to Stiles.

“Nothing happened. With the guy last night,” Derek says quietly. He glances at Stiles before looking out his window again. “He wasn’t who I want.”

And with that, Derek hops out, making his way to the crew. Stiles is left staring after him, shock clear on his face. Ralph clears his throat and Stiles finally comes back to reality, shaking out his whole upper body.

Stiles gets out of the SUV and heads in the opposite direction Derek went, pulling out his phone, and dialing Lydia’s number. “Hey Lyds. I may be just a little in love with Derek? But also can’t stand him? And I think deep down under all his scowling he may feel the same?” he spills immediately. Lydia sighs dramatically and asks what happened this time. Stiles really needs to send her some flowers or buy her a massage certificate because she’s the best.

///

Derek is thankful that the next few days are free of Stiles. The horrible torrential downpour means their location shooting is put on hold and they hadn’t scheduled him for anything else, which means he’s been holed up in his condo not talking to anyone. Around noon the third day, Laura finally barges into his bedroom (he had heard her already of course) and demands he come to the pack meeting tonight at Erica’s. Derek doesn’t even remove himself from his blanket burrito or acknowledge she said anything.

“Derek Samuel Hale you get out of that bed. Right. Now,” Laura growls, all Alpha voice, and Derek groans while he struggles to sit up. He glares as the blanket is slowly stripped away along with its comfort.

“I hate it when you do that,” he grumbles. Laura walks to stand right in front of him, hands on her hips.

“And I hate it when you sulk for three days straight, ignoring everyone in the pack, and reek of sadness!” Laura retorts, throwing her hands up at the end. She takes a few deep breaths to calm down. “What happened, Der?”

“I may have slightly told Stiles that I want him? Like him. And I’m not sure how he took it,” Derek confesses, looking anywhere but at Laura. “Because I ran away right after.” She sighs heavily, hand running down her face.

“You are such a drama queen sometimes, I swear. Quit hiding! We all know Stiles likes you too. Now get your ass up - for the sake of everyone please shower - and you are going to Erica’s with me. Being around pack will help, Derek,” Laura instructs. She starts shoving him in the direction of the bathroom towards the end of her pep talk.

“Alright, alright,” he agrees, walking without being forced. “But I am not a drama queen,” he says, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Laura laughs loudly.

“You so are!”

Derek reluctantly admits he is happy to be around the pack. Their smell and presence is very much home now and he even finds himself laughing when Boyd beats Isaac at Mario Kart for the sixth time and Isaac won’t stop claiming he’s cheating somehow. Erica leans down from he position on the couch and kisses Boyd on the cheek.

“It’s my good luck kisses, obviously,” she claims while smirking at Isaac. The other wolf tilts his head back with a grin.

“Guess you need to give me one to test this theory,” Issac jokes back. At Boyd’s playful growl he holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. We all know you’re cheating anyway.” Boyd tackles Isaac to the ground, followed by Erica who sits primly on top both wolves once they stop wrestling.

“Calm down, pups. You’re going to break the coffee table again,” Laura complains, but there’s so much fondness in her voice Derek knows she enjoys them having fun. It reminds both of the Hales of their siblings, their cousins, that had died in the fire. Of happier times when their family was whole.

The wolves all startle at a knock from the front door. Erica moves to get up, but Laura waves her back down, saying she’ll get it. When she opens the door, Stiles is one of the last people she expects to see. The boy reeks of nerves and twists his hands in front of himself. He’s obviously shocked to see Laura rather than Erica.

“Uh, hi, hey Miss Hale. I’m Stiles. Nice to meet you. Is Erica home?” He stammers out, heart rate increasing. Derek catches his scent now that the door is open and he’s not distracted by the other wolves. His stomach twists and he resists bolting through the back door.

Laura has a wicked grin when she replies to Stiles and he can definitely tell her and Derek are siblings in that moment. “Hi, Stiles. Great to finally meet you. Derek has told me so much about you,” she gushes, smiling wider at Derek’s quiet growl from inside, unheard by Stiles.

“Hey Stiles!” Erica calls as she bounds to the door, squeezing in beside Laura. “You need something? Sorry I haven’t checked my phone much tonight with everyone over,” she explains.

“Oh, no, it’s not super important. I can talk to you tomorrow,” he says, but both wolves catch the lie. Before Stiles can turn and run, each woman grabs one of his arms and hauls him inside.

“Nonsense! You’re welcome to hang out with us!” Laura says, hooking an arm around Stiles’ neck and giving Derek a shit-eating grin. “Let me introduce you. That’s Isaac, Boyd, and you may know Derek,” she says, pointing at each in turn. “And I’m Laura,” she points to herself. “Not Miss Hale.” Stiles smiles and waves awkwardly to the room as a whole. He decidedly avoids making any eye contact with Derek. Stiles’ eyes light up though when he sees the TV screen.

“You’re playing Mario Kart?” he asks enthusiastically.

“Boyd was kicking Isaac’s ass in Mario Kart, yes,” Erica informs him with a laugh. Isaac kicks her leg so she falls back onto the couch, causing her to laugh harder.

“I shall avenge Isaac’s honor then,” Stiles proclaims, sitting on the floor and grabbing a controller. Derek watches all this unfold in silence, wondering why the universe hates him. Laura’s wrong. He’s not a drama queen.

“Is that a challenge?” Boyd asks, both eyebrows raised in question.

“Damn straight. 100cc, four races, you and me, let’s go,” Stiles replies, wiggling his butt dramatically to get comfortable like he’s preparing for the race of his life.

“I like him,” Isaac says, sitting down beside Stiles so their knees are touching. Werewolves struggle with personal space. “Better keep your word. Boyd is really good.” Both guys select their characters and customize their karts before they’re choosing which track.

“Really? You’re gonna start us off with the N64 Rainbow Road? That’s how it is?” Stiles asks, smirking over at Boyd, eyes gleaming.

“That’s how it is,” the man replies. Erica leans down and kisses Boyd, then Stiles on the cheek.

“Good luck kisses for both,” she declares, causing Stiles to laugh and Boyd to huff, both of their eyes never leaving the countdown screen. As both of them curse and shit talk during the race (as required), Derek just watches.

He watches as Stiles blends in effortlessly to his pack. Isaac has one hand on Stiles’ shoulder, leaning towards the TV cheering Stiles on. Boyd has never looked so focused during a match before, but there’s a wide smile on his face Derek rarely sees too. Erica is screaming behind Boyd for him to catch up and kick Stiles’ ass as they battle for first and second place. This devolves into Isaac and Erica shit talking each other like they’re betting for the racers and Derek doesn’t realize there’s a smile on his face too.

Laura plops down beside him on the couch, bumping their shoulders. She talks quietly, almost a murmur. “Sometimes, Der, your wolf just knows ,” she says, smiling at the loud yelling. He looks at Stiles and aches with how much he wants him. Wants to have this with him and so much more. Their quiet moment is interrupted by loud shouts signaling the end of the race.

“Ha! In your face, Erica! Stiles won and he’s gonna win the next three, and you’re gonna be pissed!” Isaac yells, smiling triumphantly.

“Bring it on, Lahey! That was beginners luck. No, that was my kiss! I just gave away that luck like it was free!” Erica shrieks. Stiles and Boyd just look at each other intently. Boyd nods towards the screen seriously, indicating for Stiles to pick next track while Isaac and Erica still bicker in the background. Derek can’t tell if a great friendship or bitter rivalry is blooming between Stiles and Boyd right now as the next course is selected. Erica only gives Boyd a kiss this time. Just in case.

Four races later and Stiles jumps up, fist pumping the air and feet dancing around. “Hell yeah!” Stiles shouts, giant grin on his face. “Still the MK Champ!” Isaac is hooting behind him too at their victory. Stiles smiles down at Boyd who is looking at him with a blank expression. Stiles relents his bragging and smiles crookedly, shaking the controller. “Rematch?”

Boyd just stares, silence tense. “Never speak to me or my family again,” Boyd says in a serious tone before standing up and disappearing somewhere else in the house.

“What?! Oh come on, Boyd! We’re the same skill level I just got lucky that one race!” Stiles calls after him. When he begins to actually get stressed, worried he somehow actually fucked up… whatever is happening here with all these people Derek seems closest to, Boyd pops his head around the corner and gives Stiles a glare.

“Bitter enemies now. Until the end. A blood feud to last generations.” Stiles looks bewildered, mouth opening and closing, before Boyd gives him a wink and then disappears again.

“Wait… so we’re good?” He hollers but doesn’t get a reply. “We’re good right?!” Isaac tackles Stiles to the ground, twisting to catch most of the fall, and giving Stiles a headlock to ruffle his hair.

“Boyd is totally fucking with you,” Isaac says after Stiles squacks and flails his limbs uselessly.

“It means he likes you,” Erica informs him, grinning. She plops down on the couch beside Laura and Stiles goes to sit back down in the floor with Isaac. Stiles thought it would be uncomfortable hanging out with new people, but it’s nice. They’re all close, like a family. It reminds Stiles of when he, Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Liam hang out.

Derek doesn’t even realize it’s been three hours since Stiles had arrived. Not until Erica and Isaac both start whining they’re hungry and demanding Chinese food be delivered immediately.

“Everyone want their usual?” Erica asks as she stands up and stretches. After receiving some form of yes from everyone, she heads towards the kitchen to where the menu is stashed. “Stiles, come in here. I’ll show you the menu,” she calls. Derek tries not to stare at Stiles as he leaves the room, but based on Laura’s soft snort of laughter he fails. He also fails not to eavesdrop on the conversation Stiles and Erica start having in the adjoining room. It’s obvious Stiles thinks they can’t hear him, especially since he’s speaking quieter than usual.

“Erica… the reason I came here today…” Stiles starts.

“You don’t have to tell me right now, Stiles. It can wait,” Erica stops him, knowing everyone will hear what Stiles says.

“No, no. It’s important,” he pushes. “I want to break the contract. The part where Derek and I are pretending to date,” Stiles says quickly so she can’t stop him again. Derek’s eyes widen at his words and Laura instantly looks to him, already trying to stop him from assuming. “I just… I can’t do it anymore, you know?” Stiles continues when Erica doesn’t say anything. Derek can picture him rubbing the back of his head.

Derek doesn’t want to hear Stiles list all the reasons why he can’t stand to spend more time around him. Obviously Derek’s admission made him uncomfortable. So he leaves. Ignores Laura calling his name and closes the door quietly behind himself.

Not even ten minutes later Laura finds him sitting on Erica’s roof. It’s his usual hiding spot when he wants to get away from people for a little while. “Go away, Laura,” he grumbles. His knees are pulled up to his front, arms wrapped around them, and face half hidden in his sleeves.

“No. Once again, you’re being dramatic and took off before you heard the whole story. We’re going to have to work on your communication skills, Der,” she chastises. Laura sits down next to Derek, close enough to be a comforting presence but giving him his space. “You want to know the reason he needs to end your contract?”

Derek huffs. “What? Did he finally get tired of taking money to date me?” It’s said bitterly and Derek knows Laura can smell the hurt in his scent. She doesn’t reply so he looks over at her, and is surprised to see her squinting at him in confusion.

“What? ” she exclaims. “You thought Stiles was getting paid to date you?”

“Yeah! It became part of his official contract! Why wouldn’t he pretend to date me if he was after more money?” Anger was simmering under Derek’s skin and his wolf paced back and forth at the jarring reminder that Stiles didn’t feel the way he did.

“You. Idiot.” Laura runs a hand down her face and seems to have aged ten years having to deal with Derek. “Seriously. For one of the smartest, most considerate guys I know you’re an idiot,” she says on an exasperated laugh.

“Yeah, I know I’m an idiot for falling for someone who is once again only interested in my money, but you don’t need to rub it in my face,” Derek says angrily, standing up to leave.

“He wasn’t getting paid!” Laura yells at him. “He specifically asked not to get paid to help you out. I assumed Erica had informed you of that. I was obviously wrong and will hit her over the head later,” she rants, continuing when Derek just stares at her dumbly. “You’ve thought that this whole time?! That all he wants is money? Have you met Stiles? Cause I’ve only technically met him once and can tell he’s not that type of person!” Laura lets that sink in, can see it processing on Derek’s face. He slides back down to sit next to her and buries his face in his hands.

“I’m an idiot,” he confirms.

“Damn straight,” Laura says with a firm nod. They both sit there in silence for a while, letting the setting sun warm their skin. Laura hears the car at the gate a bit before Derek, and nudges him. “Let’s get down and get the Chinese food. Then you’re gonna go in there, and talk to the guy who likes you like a normal, nice Werewolf, okay?”

Derek smiles, standing up to jump down behind her before the delivery guy sees them. “Yeah, okay.”

Once they’re all situated around the large dining table, food being eaten, and embarrassingly funny stories being shared, Derek looks over at Stiles. Stiles is already looking at him, and he smiles shyly after catching Derek’s eye. Derek smiles back and for once feels something like hope tingle in his chest. For once he believes he can deserve a happiness like this one - with pack and with Stiles.

///

The next day, Stiles is nervous to be meeting up with Derek on set. Derek had gotten a ride from Erica that morning because he had spent the night after their little get-together and she would need to break the news about the contract to him anyway. Derek was so nice yesterday, and now he would have found out that morning that Stiles cancelled their fake dating contract, and would probably be pissed. His press was so positive right now and all that would crumble with their announcement, which especially sucked with them wrapping filming in the next month.

So Stiles stands awkwardly outside of Derek’s trailer as he waits for Erica’s familiar red convertible to drive on the temporary lot. When it finally does, and he watches Derek climb out of the small sports car, his heartbeat triples and he tries to remember to breathe. He broke this off so he could finally tell Derek how he feels, but now he’s not so sure he has the courage. It’s Derek Hale . Why would he want to be with someone like Stiles? But Erica’s words echo back at him from all those months ago that he was 110% Derek’s type and that gives him more confidence. He runs his hands down the front of his red jacket one more time.

Derek quickly walks up to where Stiles is standing and he notices the actor has two coffees in hand. Stiles also notices the huge grin on Derek’s face and he is instantly confused. Until he remembers. That the Derek he first met before the contract likes not being in a relationship. He likes to sleep around with a bunch of people and is probably ecstatic to not be fake dating Stiles anymore. How the hell could Stiles forget that?!

Stiles tries to paste on a convincing smile, but is pretty sure he fails if Derek’s Concerned Eyebrows™ are anything to go by.

“Stiles, hey. I brought you a drink. Erica and I stopped on the way,” Derek explains, holding the cup out. “Are you okay?”

Stiles takes the coffee and takes a sip. His eyebrows shoot up when he tastes it. “This is my favorite,” he says surprised.

“Yeah?” Derek asks, confused. Stiles feels conflicted. Derek’s so happy they aren’t fake dating anymore. And he’s being really nice. And he brought Stiles his favorite drink .

“You brought me my favorite coffee. And you’re smiling. Guess you’re really happy to not be fake dating me anymore, huh?” Stiles tries to smile, looks down at the cup, and can feel tears stinging his eyes. Derek immediately catches the smell of salt and tilts Stiles’ face up with a finger under his chin.

Stiles finally looks Derek in the eye, but it feels like his chest might break in half, and he’s never going to be able to drink a chocolate mocha again. “I am happy about it,” Derek says, smile small and sincere, trying to convey his feelings. “Because now I can ask you on a real date.”

Stiles just stares for a moment at bright green-gold eyes. “You -” he points at Derek “wanna… with me?” He points back at himself.

“In all scenarios, yes, to that question,” Derek says, laughing. “I have for a while now. But I assumed you were only acting a certain way for the contract… thought you were only doing this for money,” Derek looks down then, feeling chastised.

“I told Erica I never wanted any money for this -” Stiles starts, but Derek holds up a hand to stop him.

“I know. Now. I’m sorry I thought you would do something like that. But you have to understand that for me, people using me for my money and fame, is a big issue I have to work around. It makes it very hard to trust,” Derek explains. And Stiles does get that. Trust is more important to most movie stars he’s worked with than anything else. “Erica also might have mentioned the reason you asked for the contract to be terminated…”

“What?! Where's that trust? I’m gonna kill her! She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” Stiles pouts. Derek mentally imagines Stiles trying to beat Erica up and has to hold back a laugh.

“So… what was that reason, again?” Derek asks, fake innocent expression on his face. It’s very cute but Stiles knows better.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Stiles gives an unimpressed look in return. “You just want to hear me say I like you.” Derek grins and steps even more into Stiles’ space.

“I never want to stop hearing you say it, to be honest,” Derek replies, leaning down to kiss Stiles lightly on a blushing cheek.

“That seems highly impractical. Then who's going to tell you to fuck off?” Stiles mumbles, taking a sip of his coffee. That Derek got him. He smiles down at the cup. “We’re both idiots.”

“Laura and Erica have both informed me of this. Multiple times.”

///

So they start dating. For real this time. They skip the fancy restaurants and really public dates and go to a crappy diner at two a.m. that has curly fries Stiles loves. They stay in and have lazy movie nights with pizza at Derek’s place. Derek’s absolute favorite is Stiles starts coming to a lot of the pack nights. Boyd still puts up the front that he dislikes Stiles, blank expression and all, and Stiles still just beams at him claiming to know he likes him deep down.

Stiles’ scent mingles with the pack’s and his wolf pushes now more than ever to claim him as a mate. But Derek hasn’t found the right time to tell him about the fact Werewolves exist. Not to mention that he is one. You can’t just bring that up casually over pancakes.

Of course, Derek’s come to learn that in his life, right when everything is starting to finally look up, it has to come back down.

One morning Stiles wakes up in Derek’s arms where they fell asleep together on the couch last night watching Netflix. He blinks, adjusting to the bright light streaming into the room, listening to Derek breathe evenly behind him. He carefully turns so that he’s facing Derek and smiles when the arms circling him tighten and Derek nuzzles into the top of his head.

“Hey,” Stiles whispers. “Der, I gotta get up.” Derek grumbles something while shaking his head making Stiles chuckle. “Nature calls, dude.” Derek sighs and moves to run his lips down Stiles’ neck, biting down lightly when he reaches as far as he can go.

“No fair!” Stiles whines and he feels a smile against his throat. “Come on, big guy. Lemme up,” he says, wiggling to get free. Derek lets him struggle for a second before relenting and opening his arms. Stiles pecks him on the nose then escapes to the bathroom. When he reemerges, he offers to go get them bagels from their favorite cafe up the street while Derek sleeps a bit longer - Stiles is definitely the morning person counterpart to Derek’s night owl tendencies. There’s a Werewolf cliche in there somewhere.

After Stiles doesn’t return for thirty minutes, Derek gets worried. Unless the place was crazy slammed he should be back already. So Derek drags himself to sit up in bed and finds his cellphone, clicking the recently dialed contact. He tries three times with no answer before he jumps out of bed and puts clothes on in a hurry. Derek’s down the street to the cafe in record (Werewolf) time, looking in the glass storefront to the people inside. When he doesn’t see Stiles, Derek starts sniffing the air to find him. He follows the scent to a small alley between a building a few down from the cafe back towards his condo and sees a crumpled bag of spilled bagels on the ground.

Derek immediately panics and tries not to wolf out in the middle of the semi-busy street. He goes deeper into the alley but the scent is gone. Like Stiles suddenly left - like in a car. He grips his cellphone so tight it creaks and tries dialing Stiles one more time just in case. A ringtone starts up and Derek follows it to be hidden behind bags of trash next to the dumpster. There he finds Stiles’ phone, screen cracked, with his ID calling. Once he hangs up, he sees a note typed out on the screen and his heart sinks.

‘Be a good dog and come find your toy.’

Derek’s teeth grind together and he can’t help the partial shift that morphs his features. His natural instinct is to howl but he shoves his fingers against his phone screen until Laura’s voice is answering.

“Kate took Stiles.”

Chapter Text

“Who is this? ” comes Chris Argent’s voice through the phone.

“Chris, it’s Laura Hale. Before you hang up, I just thought you should know your psychotic sister has kidnapped an innocent human.” The Alpha Werewolf says the words with a quiet ferocity that has the other wolves in the room take a step away from her.

“Kate took someone?” Chris asks, obviously surprised. Laura is relieved to know he’s not involved - Chris always was a terrible liar, so he’s easy to read.

“She kidnapped Derek’s boyfriend, Stiles. This morning. It’s been approximately an hour. The scent went cold because I’m assuming whatever vehicle she used has some sort of wolfsbane lining to cover scent trails. She always was good at covering her tracks,” Laura finishes with a sneer, the Hale fire vivid in her memory.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Are there any houses you know of that she would be likely to take him to? She wants Derek to find him, come to her, so I know she’s still close to the city.” Laura glances at Derek while she talks, noticing his teeth still grinding together in fury.

“There is our father’s house, pretty secluded in the woods a little ways outside of town. About a forty minute drive. It’s where we go to train,” Chris explains.

“That’s our best bet. Text the address to this number,” Laura demands, about to hang up.

“Wait! Wait. Laura, I know it doesn’t mean a lot to you, but I am sorry about your family. I couldn’t believe my own sister could do something so cruel, so against our code… and because of my emotional blinders I failed to help you or Derek.” Laura can hear his sincerity and understands where Chris is coming from. She wouldn’t want to believe her siblings capable of something so terrible either. The Alpha sighs into the phone when Chris doesn’t go on, but she hears his unspoken question.

“You want us to leave her alive.” It’s stated, not asked.

“I have no right to ask, but if you do, we can see if there are anymore Hunters she’s working with that are going against our code. We can deal with her. What she has done is punishable by death, but let it be by her own kind. Let it be me,” Chris pleads.

“We will try, but if killing her is the only way to stop her, that’s what will happen,” Laura concedes. Derek makes a low growl and Laura flashes her eyes at him, making it known it’s not a request but an order.

“Thank you,” Chris says, relief flooding through him.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

///

Stiles wakes up in a dark room, his hands and feet bound. He’s lying on the floor and a small sliver of light is visible from under the door. He counts himself lucky that he doesn’t hurt anywhere other than his wrists and a pounding headache from whatever the kidnappers drugged him with.

Holy shit I’ve been kidnapped. Stiles takes a few breaths to try and keep calm, to evaluate his surroundings like his dad always taught him to in high-stress situations.

There were voices - muffled by the door - but maybe three or four different people. His hands were zip-tied in the small of his back, while he was lying on his stomach. He obviously couldn’t reach his phone, but by rolling a bit he could tell it wasn’t in his pocket anyway.

Basically he was screwed.

Stiles rolled up into a sitting position, using the wall next to him for balance. When he felt the other walls in his movements, he determined the room was pretty small. Maybe a closet, with a carpeted floor. He knew all of this information was useless but couldn’t help focusing on it to avoid thinking about the gravity of the situation.

“God, Derek must be freaking out. At least someone will be looking for me. Probably,” Stiles talked to himself, surprised his mouth isn’t gagged. Bad choice on their part. “Hey! Background Bad Guy #1! I gotta piss,” Stiles yelled. When nothing happened, he kept yelling.

Soon enough, the door swung open and light flooded in. Stiles had to squint for a moment and then realized he was soon being hauled up by the front of his shirt.

“Jesus Christ. Stop. Yellin’,” said Bad Guy #1 with a Southern accent. He had a handlebar mustache. Stiles saw there were three guys total in the room.

“Hey man, when nature calls, she calls. I didn’t think you’d want me soiling your lovely carpet in there,” Stiles replies, shrugging one shoulder.

“Just take him to the toilet. I don’t wanna clean that up,” says Bad Guy #2, who makes a disgusted face.

“Smart man,” Stiles says with a smile.

“Boss said not to move him till she said so,” Bad Guy #1 argues. “Plus we’d have to untie him.”

“I’ll be in and out in like two minutes dude,” Stiles tries, sensing the reluctance growing. “You can even keep the bathroom door open, if you’re into that.” Bad Guy #1 gives him a flat look. “Scout’s honor.”

Bad Guy #1 just rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You handle it Rich,” he says, shoving Stiles towards Bad Guy #2. #3 still hasn’t said anything, is just watching them carefully, and Stiles makes note that he’s the one to watch out for most.

He’s shuffled along through the room and down the hall to a small half-bath. He tries not to look disappointed that there’s no windows. But soon Rich is cutting his bindings and Stiles tumbles into the bathroom, catching himself on the sink. “Two minutes,” Rich says, giving him a serious look that says ‘don’t do anything stupid.’

Too bad for Rich, that’s Stiles’ specialty. As soon as the door is closed, he opens the vanity doors and searches for anything that can be a weapon. There’s only soap and toilet paper… a random pony tail holder. He closes that and spins around the tiny room, frustrated.

A basket sitting on the back of the toilet catches his eye. It has a ribbon laced through the weaves around the top and Stiles immediately unties the bow and pulls it out. Even wrapped around both hands it’s enough to strangle someone. Probably. Stiles has only seen that in the movies and Rich is twice his size.

He knows his two minutes are almost up, so Stiles flushes the toilet and turns on the faucet for a minute. He suddenly thinks he should have definitely grabbed the porcelain cover for the back of the toilet instead to whack Rich over the head with, but suddenly the door is opening and Stiles only has one shot with the element of surprise.

“Hey. Thanks, man. Really appreciate you,” Stiles starts. He then fakes a surprised expression and tilts his head to look over Rich’s shoulder. It works, and Rich turns his upper body to look behind him. Stiles lunges forward and wraps the ribbon around his captor’s neck, pulling until his wrists cross to cut off air.

Rich grabs at his throat for a moment but then there’s an elbow flying back and connecting with Stiles’ ribs and his grip loosens enough for Rich to spin all the way around to face him. “Shit that looks way easier in the movies,” Stiles complains while Rich advances towards him.

He steps back and reaches for the toilet cover, just barely getting his fingers under the lip of it before two arms circle his stomach and haul him backwards. Stiles flails his arms and legs, but they seem to do little damage to the giant carrying him back down the hall.

Stiles goes still as they enter the room and huffs out a sigh. “I mean, really, if I didn’t try to escape at least once, it’d be pretty sad.” Rich tosses him to the middle of the room.

“Shut up. Dez, tie him up again. And please gag him this time, geez,” Rich instructs Bad Guy #1 before leaving the room, most likely to straighten up the bathroom. Next time pick toilet over ribbon, Stilinski.

After his wrists and ankles are bound again, new gag tied in place, he’s hauled back into the same closet. He sighs as much as he can around the cloth and squirms to sit up again. Stiles rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes. Nothing to do but wait.

After what feels like an hour or so, the door opens again. The silhouette morphs into Dez, who promptly hauls Stiles up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Stiles would be providing colorful commentary if it weren’t for the gag. He’s taken to a room, octagonal in shape and covered in intricate millwork. The sun is shining through open windows, their white draperies shifting slightly with the wind

It’s much better than the torture dungeon Stiles was expecting, so he doesn’t complain too much as he’s bound to a chair in the center of the room, one of the few pieces of furniture, and left to wait for another fifteen minutes. The double doors finally open again, revealing a woman with long blonde hair and a smile that could cut knives. Kate. Stiles recognizes her from researching about the fire, wanting to know her face in case she was ever at an event he attended with Derek. Stiles also takes in Dez and Bad Guy #3 flanking the doors as they close behind Kate, guarding the room.

Stiles’ attention is drawn back completely to Kate as she approaches him, twirling a knife casually in one hand. Her presence makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and as she gets close enough to touch, he leans away as far as possible, before stilling completely as the cold tip of her knife runs gently across his cheek.

Kate laughs happily. “Hi Stiles. Nice to finally meet the boy who runs with wolves,” she says, smile alarmingly fake and seething rage simmering in her eyes. “I wonder if I were to make you bleed, just a little,” the tip of the blade angles slightly and a sharp sting is followed by warmth running down one cheek. “If it would make Derek sniff you out faster.”

Stiles only has a moment to be confused over the smell comment before Kate is swiping a finger through the trail of blood on his cheek, then pressing against the cut. It just makes Stiles glare at her and feverently wish he wasn’t gagged so he could spew the words turning over in his head. He tugs against the restraints binding his wrists to the chair arms and Kate laughs again.

“Derek always did like the feisty ones,” she comments. “You really should stay away from them, for your own protection, Stiles. Can never trust a pack of mutts.” His eyebrows crease in obvious confusion, and Kate makes a pitying tut sound with her tongue.

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t know? Derek, Laura, even Erica and all their close friends are all-” a howl loud enough to make Stiles’ chest vibrate rips through the air. Soon another, than another follows it and Stiles is looking around with wide eyes, trying to determine where they’re originating from. Also why the hell there are wolves. There are no wolves in California!

His eyes finally focus back on Kate who’s smile in simply sinister now. She strides over to the doors, throwing them open. “Go get him! Alive!” she barks the command. “Kill the rest.” Stiles’ brain is whirling faster and faster, the pieces trying to fit together but not quite fitting. All he knows is his chest aches hearing her command the death of whoever - whatever - is out there. Kate walks back towards him but pivots, facing the door again, waiting. “Your wolf has come for you,” she spits out bitterly. “Just like the good dog he is.” Stiles’ attention is snatched away again by the sound of gunshots and screams. There are also entirely animalistic sounds that send a shudder down his spine and cause him to tug against his restraints again. Stiles moves so hard the chair falls over with a thud, causing his head to connect with the ground, causing a wince and his eyes to flutter closed.

The doors fly open, one of them actually breaking off its hinges.Stiles’ eyes track to the opening and widen in surprise at the large black wolf crouched there, snarling with blood dripping from its snout. It looks at Stiles with familiar green-gold eyes and suddenly all the puzzle pieces slide into place in Stiles’ mind. He tries not to panic but it’s really difficult when you’re pretty sure your boyfriend is an actual freakin werewolf .

It’s only been seconds since the wolf came barreling into the room, and then suddenly it’s just a flash of fur, leaping at Kate. They roll around on the floor for a few minutes and Stiles watches in shock as Kate stabs a knife into the muscle right above the wolf’s shoulder blade, causing it to go limp. She stands, and pulls a gun her holster to aim it at the animal.

“Really Derek? Have you not learned that the ones you love will always be your weakness?” Kate snarls, gun never wavering. “I used Stiles, so easily, to get to you. So I could finish what I started.” Stiles stares at the wolf - at Derek , holy shit - and suddenly he starts squirming, trying to pin the chair around so his unbound feet can reach Kate. She’s going to kill Derek and Stiles will be damned if he lets that happen. “This is goodbye,” Kate says flatly, finger adding slow pressure to the trigger.

Right before the shot sounds, Stiles foot connects with the back of Kate’s kneecap, causing her hand to drop slightly, sending the bullet off course where it had been aimed at Derek’s head. She rounds on Stiles, face distorted in fury. Kate is yelling at Stiles, something about enjoying killing him, but his focus is through her legs to the hallway where four more large wolves are sprinting towards the room, the lead one with eyes glowing red.

Kate’s foot connects with his stomach, demanding his attention when she kills him. The movement elicits a growl from Derek, who tries to stand but the knife is still lodged between shoulder blade and spine. There’s a fierce snarl before Kate is knocked over, three wolves tackling her. The one with red eyes clamps teeth around her neck, not enough to kill, but to hold in place. The other two wolves - one slightly larger with a dark brown pelt and the other slim with a tawny pelt - hold down each arm.

Stiles watches as the final wolf - light brown, almost gold, walks to Derek and nudges him with its nose, making a slight whining sound. Right before his eyes the wolf’s figure shifts to turn into a very familiar - and very naked - Erica. Stiles is pretty sure his eyebrows are in his hairline.

Erica apologizes before she’s pulling the knife out quickly, tossing it aside with a disgusted look. Then she’s right next to Stiles, ripping his binding with her bare hands before sitting his chair up. He looks from her to where Kate is. The hunter is no longer pinned down by three wolves, but rather by three other familiar people: Laura, Isaac, and Boyd. Erica unties the gag from around his head and Stiles wants to say something but he’s kind of in shock. Until a whimper draws his attention back to Derek who is the only one still a wolf.

Before Stiles really registers what he’s doing, he’s in the floor pulling Derek’s large, fluffy head into his lap and stroking fingers through the matted fur as best he can. He tries not to think about the fact it’s matted is because of blood. A warm breath is huffed across his stomach before Derek buries his nose there, nuzzling the boy under him. Stiles looks up at Erica, eyes full of concern.

“He’s going to be alright, yeah? Do we need to get him to a hospital?”

“He’ll be fine, Stiles. The knife had wolfsbane on it so he’ll need to rest while it runs its course to fully leave his system,” Erica explains, voice soft with comfort. Stiles watches as Boyd carries Kate’s unconscious body out of the room, trailed by Isaac. Laura comes to stand by Erica, placing a hand briefly on the side of her neck, as if comforting herself that Erica is okay. Then her eyes move to Stiles and Derek.

“I’m sure you have endless questions,” Laura starts, a slight smile tugging one corner of her mouth. “But maybe we can wait till tomorrow? The pack needs a night to rest.” Stiles only now notices the healing gunshots littered across one of Laura’s arm, a few in her torso. “Especially Derek. Wolfsbane is a bitch. Luckily these guys just had regular bullets,” she says, gesturing to herself. Stiles bites his tongue to stop himself from asking at least five questions from that info alone.

“Will he shift back?” Stiles asks instead, hand never stopping where it’s running over Derek’s head, scratching behind an ear.

“When he’s ready,” Laura says. “Right now we need to get him back to his condo.” Stiles shook his head and watched as Laura bent down and scooped the wolf up like he weighed nothing. Erica then offered a hand to help Stiles to his feet.

Once in the SUV, Derek in the back seat with Stiles lap as a cushion again, Stiles finally took a deep breath and let the feeling of safety wash over him, threatening tears to spill. Derek nuzzled closer as if sensing his duress and Stiles smiled down at him.

“Can I stay with him? At his place, I mean. While he heals,” Stiles stutters, not sure if it would be invading some weird werewolf healing bonding time. Laura makes eye contact with him through the rearview mirror.

“I’m sure he would really like that, Stiles. Derek really cares about you,” Laura says, with Isaac giving an affirmative hum from the passenger seat. Boyd and Erica were following behind them in their own car, Kate in the trunk to take to Chris.

“Good. Cause I care about him too, even with the excess body hair,” Stiles says, causing Laura to laugh. “Werewolves. Jesus.”

Once Derek has been deposited in his bed, covers pulled over him, Stiles follows Laura back to the front door to lock up behind her. She pulls Stiles into a crushing hug, and he gives her one right back. “Thank you. For saving me,” he whispers into her shoulder.

“Of course, pup. You’re already pack in my mind,” Laura says, pulling away, but rubbing her cheek against his briefly. Stiles raises a questioning eyebrow at her, causing her to laugh. “Wolf thing. I’m sure Derek will show you all about it when he wakes up. I know he’s been holding back,” she gives a shit-eating grin and Stiles blushes.

“Shoo, shoo,” Stiles says, making matching gestures with both hands for her to leave. “I don’t need to hear such things from his sister,” Stiles says, small smile tugging his lips. She throws her head back and laughs, heading out onto the small porch.

“See you tomorrow, Stiles.”

“See you then,” he says, shutting and locking the door behind her. Stiles leans his head against the wood, taking a deep breath before going back to Derek’s room. He stops in the kitchen to grab a glass of water for when Derek wakes up, and sits it on the nightstand beside him.

Stiles gazes down at the wolf, whose head is adorable lying on the pillow like a person would, and sighs. This new development doesn’t change how he feels about Derek. If anything, it explains quite a few missing pieces that help him understand the man more, especially with Kate, with his lack of trust in relationships.

Stiles kicks off his shoes, socks, and jeans before walking around to the other side of the bed and climbing in under the covers. He falls asleep snuggled up to Derek, face pressed into warm, black fur.

///

Stiles wakes up slowly, feeling safe and warm, surrounded by the scent of Derek. He stretches leisurely, mid yawn, when his eyes fly open. Derek. His boyfriend. Who is a werewolf.

Stiles’ eyes snap to the space next to him in bed only to find it empty. He frowns but kind of appreciates the time alone to collect himself too.

Eventually he gets up, uses the bathroom and brushes his teeth, then pads out to the common area seeking out Derek.

Stiles finds him in the kitchen leaning against the counter nursing a cup of coffee. Derek doesn’t look up, but Stiles knows he heard him, is adjusting to the idea his boyfriend probably has super hearing. Derek’s quiet voice snaps him back to the present and out of hypothetical wolfy powers.

“I’m sure you, of all people, have some questions,” Derek says, still staring down his coffee.

“Nope. Can’t think of any right now,” Stiles lies. He doesn’t need to be a werewolf to tell the man is still exhausted, still recovering. His questions can wait.

“Liar,” Derek states but there’s no heat to it. His lips even quirk up and there’s definitely fondness in his tone.

“Okay so maybe a few. Or a hundred,” Stiles hedges, moving closer to stand next to Derek. He leans on the counter, mimicking the wolf’s pose. “But they can wait. Till we’re with everyone else and you don’t have to answer them all.”

Derek sighs. “I don’t deserve you.”

Stiles gapes and grabs Derek’s shoulders to make them face each other. He’s sure it only happens because Derek lets him. Stiles brushes off the attraction of werewolf strength - focus dammit.

“You don’t deserve me? Dude,” Stiles says exasperated.

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek growls, deflecting.

“Nu-uh, Sourwolf, we’re talking about important things here. Although I feel like I don’t deserve you a lot, so I’m being a bit of a hypocrite.”

Derek just shakes his head, eyes finally meeting Stiles’. “I’m a werewolf, Stiles. A monster. How could you ever want me?” Derek’s voice sounds so fragile that Stiles wants nothing but to wrap him in his arms and protect him from everything, including himself. Derek's hand comes up to cup the side of Stiles' face, thumb skimming the cut on his cheek that Kate inflicted. The guilt radiates in waves.

“Derek, we’ve been dating for months. I know you, who you are in here,” he points a finger into the actor’s chest right above his heart. “I know that you are not a monster anymore than I could be. We all have some darkness in us.” Stiles reaches up and delicately touches the cut Derek just did. "Kate... Kate is evil. You are nothing like her," he says confidently.

“But my past… I’ve done things…” Derek breaks off, and Stiles waits for him to continue but he never does. He lifts Derek’s chin to see his beautiful eyes again.

“Not all monsters do monstrous things. A good friend told me that once,” Stiles says, smiling softly. “Your past is yours to tell me when you’re ready.”

Derek’s expression flickers between so many emotions, Stiles honestly loses count. He’s suddenly turned though, trapped between the wolf and the counter, an expression of pure want finally settling on Derek’s face. Stiles’ skin runs hot with it, feels like electricity has run down his chest to pool in his stomach.

“You have no idea,” Derek says, cheek against Stiles’ cheek and slightly breathless, “how difficult it is to control my wolf around you. How many times I had to stop from making you mine, completely, for man and wolf.”

“Then don’t hold back,” Stiles says, barely a whisper between them. Derek can hear Stiles’ heart beating wildly in his chest.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Derek replies, eyebrows creased in concentration to keep his wolf at bay. He feels his eyes flicker blue and Stiles reaches a hand up to lightly touch just the corner of his eye, thumb then sweeping to temple.

“Show me,” Stiles commands, his voice stronger than before. “Prove your wolf wants me just as much, Derek. I want all of you, not just a part.” The last word is muffled by Derek’s lips crashing into his, slotting together just as perfectly as all the times before. He nips Stiles’ bottom lip, eager to taste him. Eager to claim him. Stiles whimpers and tries to keep up, kissing back with all he has. Eventually though, he has to pull back, sucking in a desperate breath.

Derek just immediately moves to rubbing stubbled cheeks across Stiles’ jaw, his neck, enjoying the shivers it causes and the scent it leaves behind. The memories of yesterday flicker through his mind, the idea of losing Stiles, and his wolf demands some physical reminder that Stiles is his as much as he is Stiles’.

Derek starts biting at the slender neck in front of him, leaving a trail of hickies in his wake from collarbone up to the sensitive spot behind Stiles’ ear. Stiles moans and Derek’s hands reach around to grip his ass before sliding down to his thighs and lifting him onto the counter.

“Is there going to be more manhandling?” Stiles asks breathlessly. “Because I’m a big fan.” Derek growls playfully before nipping Stiles’ earlobe. He trails his lips across mole-freckled skin to hover just above Stiles’ own, sharing air. Stiles tries to lean forward to press their lips together again, but Derek’s hand on the base of his neck holds him back. He watches Stiles’ pupils dilate further and smirks.

“Anything else you’re a fan of I should know about, sweetheart?” The words are whispered directly into Stiles’ lips still, but not touching. Stiles tests the restriction keeping him in place again and whines needily when he finds he can’t move forward.

“Whatever you’re doing right now. That. And also being naked. I’m a fan of that. With you - being naked with you,” Stiles rambles, hands coming up to slide into Derek’s hair.

He tugs, trying to crash their lips together again, and Derek’s eyes flash blue. Stiles wanting him as much as he wants Stiles making his wolf push to the surface. Excited at the challenging nature of his mate. Stiles will swear he was wearing clothes two seconds ago, but when he finally surfaces from his haze of kissing the pants off of (ha!) Derek, he glances between them to see them both naked from the waist down.

“Werewolf speed. Also a fan of that. How fast can you get us from here to the bedroom, Wolfman?” Stiles asks with a smile. Derek rewards him with a promising glint in his eye, and within seconds Stiles’ back is hitting soft mattress, a quiet “Oh” escaping him.

Then Derek is above him, smiling down in obvious smugness and Stiles can’t blame him really. If his impressed facial expression wasn’t enough of an ego boost, he’s sure his painfully hard erection pressing into Derek’s thigh is. Then his shirt is being pulled over his head, Derek's following after and Stiles is dying a little because holy shit his boyfriend is hot.

After that, it’s a rush of sensations that Stiles tries to keep up with. Derek spends plenty of time covering Stiles’ neck, chest, and thighs with hickies that cause the younger man to writhe and moan beneath him. Fingers trailing lines of heat everywhere. Praises whispered into skin. By the time Derek runs his tongue up Stiles’ dick, he feels like a rubber band seconds from snapping.

“Not gonna last, Der,” he pants, as the werewolf swallows him down and swirls his tongue around the head on his way back up. Derek looks up at Stiles through his lashes, smirk in place. “Ugh, you’re too perfect, stop,” Stiles whines, but cants his hips off the bed still. When Derek doesn’t resume touching him Stiles cracks an eye open to look at him. He’s just staring down at Stiles with lust blown eyes that keep flickering between hazel and electric blue.

“You still with me, Big Guy?” Stiles asks, reaching up to cup the side of Derek’s face. The wolf blinks and suddenly Stiles is being pushed back down, hand at the base of his throat, and Derek’s other large hand wrapped around both of their cocks. Stiles moans at the friction and the slight pressure at his neck when he leans up to catch Derek’s mouth in a kiss. A low growl vibrates from the other’s chest before Derek starts whispering in Stiles’ ear, never slowing the pace of his hand.

“Want to fuck you so bad, Stiles. It’s a physical ache to have you marked up and smelling like mine inside and out. Can’t wait to pound into you while you beg for more and you come, screaming my name on your lips,” Derek pants, voice gravel from the constant growl in his chest.

“Derek, Derek, ahhh,” Stiles says, voice cutting off in a silent shout as he comes over Derek’s hand.

“Fuck, Stiles,” and then Derek is tripping over the edge right behind him, burying his face in Stiles neck and resisting the urge to bite and claim his mate.

He collapses down onto Stiles who immediately starts grumbling about heavy-ass werewolves and his fragile human respiratory system. Derek laughs and then rolls over to climb out of bed and retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom. After cleaning them both up, Derek flops back down on the bed, immediately having a slightly breathless Stiles straddle his hips.

“Hey,” Stiles says softly, smiling down warmly. Derek takes in how the diffused sunlight makes his pale skin almost glow, his hair sticking up in crazy directions, Derek’s marks littering his skin, and the smell of contented happiness pouring off the human. It’s overwhelming and perfect and Derek would do anything to keep this.

“Hi,” he replies back, the word filled with all the emotions he’s feeling. Stiles notices, just like he always has. Always looking for the way Derek shows affection in little ways.

“I love you, you know.” Derek’s surprised by the confession, but it immediately fills him with some indescribable honey-warm feeling that spreads through his whole body causing a grin to break out on his face.

Stiles laughs delightedly and leans down to peck the tip of Derek’s nose. Derek grabs the back of his head, nuzzling a cheek.

“I love you, Stiles.”