Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It actually started off kind of funny, if you asked Stiles. He hadn’t actually seen it in person, since he was never invited to the wolves only training runs through the woods. He may not have been a wolf, but he still found it very discriminatory. But at least Scott had been there and later told him all the details.

There was a little creek that cut through part of the woods that Derek liked to run alongside. Why? Stiles wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like Derek appreciated things like ambiance. But that didn’t matter at this point. What mattered was Derek slipping on a rock and taking a header into the water. And apparently he’d hit his head just right and knocked himself clean out. Couldn’t have been more than two inches of water and Derek was unconscious, face down in it.

He was fine, of course, because he rarely went anywhere without his wolfy entourage. Boyd had immediately splashed in after him, dragging him out of the water and pulling him onto dry ground. Isaac had cushioned Derek’s head in his lap, checking his top half for injuries while Boyd checked the bottom. Scott sheepishly admitted he’d mostly watched from afar, too shocked to do anything. Derek never fell. Sure, he got thrown more often than was considered normal, but never falling on his own.

Boyd had carried him back to the loft, with Isaac fluttering around them like a new mother letting someone hold her baby for the first time. Stiles was sure Derek would love that analogy. He’d woken up right after they’d gotten him upstairs, with a lingering headache and a massive amount of confusion. Scott had let Boyd give him the bare bones explanation, since he was the best at being direct and to the point. Scott had left the two Betas to watch over their Alpha, slipping out the door just as Derek was batting away Isaac’s bag of ice.

It was a little less funny when Scott was leaving his house after telling him the story, sliding through his bedroom window like all the wolves seemed to do, and somehow lost his grip and fell awkwardly to the ground. Stiles heard the bone snapping from his desk chair. He rushed over to the window, looking down to see his best friend lying dumbfounded in the grass with one of his legs bent in a way that would have Gumby quaking.

Other than that he was fine. At least he was after he made Stiles pull the bone back into proper alignment. And when Stiles recovered from his slight fainting spell, they decided to head to the loft. Werewolf reflexes were supposed to be better than this. After barely avoiding a couple car accidents along the way, they finally made it to the loft. Which was in full chaos.

The smoke alarm was going off, which Stiles was shocked Derek even had in this place. He was waving a towel at a smoking pot on his stove, looking like someone straight out of an “I Love Lucy” rerun. Boyd was sitting in a daze next to one of the pillars, letting Isaac hold a rag to his wrist. Isaac had a nosebleed, but seemed mostly okay, until he turned his head to face the newcomers and Stiles’ steps faltered.

“Isaac, is that a fork sticking out of your neck?” Stiles whispered, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“Yes,” Isaac mumbled, swallowing thickly and making the utensil bob up and down.

“What’s it doing there?” Stiles asked, frozen in place.

“Oh, you know. The drawer was full and we had to put it somewhere,” Isaac muttered, his joking words a stark contrast to the terror shining in his eyes. Stiles had seen Isaac with more extreme holes stabbed into his body, but he could admit this one was a bit worrying.

“What the hell is going on?” Derek snapped, stomping into the room now that his crisis was taken care of.

“How should I know? I just got here!” Stiles yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. “How’d Isaac get that fork in his neck?” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Isaac, why haven’t you pulled that out yet?” Derek sighed, turning to face his sheepish Beta.

“Isn’t it better to leave things like this in?” Isaac asked, biting his lip.

“You’re a werewolf, I don’t think that applies anymore,” Derek growled.

“Hey, be nice to him! He and Boyd took care of you earlier,” Scott said, shooting Derek a disgruntled look. “I’ll help you Isaac.” Scott took about two strides forward before he was flat on his face, either forgetting about the steps down or flat out not able to get down them properly.

“Everyone just stay where you are,” Stiles commanded, carefully walking over to where Isaac and Boyd were sitting. Boyd seemed more with it now, but he was letting Isaac continue to hold his arm. Isaac moaned as he got closer, but didn’t try to get away. “You ready for this?”

“Yeah,” Isaac whimpered, closing his eyes.

“Like a splinter,” Stiles shrugged off, bracing Isaac with one hand against his shoulder. He wrapped his hand carefully around the handle, blowing out a breath in anticipation. “Piece of cake.” The fork came out easy enough, but was followed by a stream of blood that shot right into his face.

“Oh shit!” Boyd shouted, very uncharacteristically. He scooted away from the scene on his butt, tossing his already soaked towel in their direction. Stiles wrapped his hands around Isaac’s throat, feeling his grip slipping in all the slick blood. How much blood could a werewolf lose before they died? How long was a little puncture wound going to take to heal? Did the fork have three prongs or four? Had Isaac always been that pale?

“Someone get me something to help stop the bleeding!” Stiles demanded, supporting Isaac as he started listing to the side. A shirt hit him in the face and Stiles grabbed it, bunching it up to press against Isaac’s neck. He vaguely noticed it was Derek’s shirt, and that he was now hovering over his shoulder. Stiles could worry about Derek’s bare nipples later, right now he needed to focus on Isaac and the fact that his lips were slowly turning blue.

“I don’t feel good,” Isaac murmured, his eyes glazing over.

“Don’t talk!” Derek ordered, and while that was good advice, his tone needed a little work.

“Don’t yell at him!” Scott shouted, and really, was now the time for fighting?

“Everyone, shut up!” Stiles hissed, glancing back at Scott. “Call Deaton. Something is going on and we need answers. Hell, call everyone. We need to see if this is affecting anyone else and if it isn’t, I’m going to need their help.”

“Help with what?” Scott asked, pulling out his cell phone. Stiles sighed, shifting the shirt so a cleaner side was against Isaac’s neck.

“Help with keeping you all from killing yourselves.”

Chapter Text

“Why isn’t he healing?” Stiles muttered, quickly checking under the shirt. It wasn’t bleeding as heavily as before, but a couple baby pokes should’ve been long gone by now.

“Heightened emotions can sometimes impede healing,” Derek grumbled, ducking down to squat in front of Isaac.

“Okay, so how do we-”

“Heal!” Derek roared, flashing his red eyes and fangs. Isaac squeaked and even Stiles felt the urge to piss his pants. Isaac’s eyes flickered gold before they rolled into the back of his head, his body going fully limp and flopping against Stiles’ shoulder.

“Nice!” Stiles spat, dragging Isaac to lean on the pillar Boyd had been against. Boyd was sitting still, so at least one of them was listening to Stiles at this point. “Boyd, can you take over for me? Keep pressure on the wound and let me know if anything changes? And try not to snap his neck in the process?” Boyd nodded, sliding over to switch places with him.

“Dr. Deaton! We need help!” Scott shouted into the phone. “Something weird is going on and we need you.”

“Scott, slide me the phone,” Stiles demanded. They would get nowhere fast with Scott’s lack of details. How was he the only one thinking straight? Stiles put the phone on speaker, digging his own phone out of his pocket. “Call the girls, make sure they are okay and get them over here if they are.”

“Stiles? What’s going on?” Deaton asked.

“Somehow my life has turned into a really morbid episode of The Three Stooges,” Stiles grumbled, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe the blood off of his face. “Our furry friends can’t seem to take two steps without eating it.”

“How do you mean?” Deaton questioned.

“Broken legs, almost drowning, tripping over nothing,” Stiles listed. He wasn’t even going to bring up the fork. “Boyd, how did you hurt your arm?”

“Cut it making a sandwich,” Boyd mumbled.

“What kind of sandwich?”

“Grilled cheese.”

“Do you see what I’m dealing with?” Stiles exclaimed. A task like that would’ve taken a butterknife at most, but from the amount of blood soaking that towel, it looked like Boyd had a go with Freddy Krueger.

“And this is only happening to the werewolves?” Deaton asked.

“As far as I can tell. Scott is calling the girls to make sure and I’ve been fine so far. Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Stiles pleaded. He was not cut out to be a babysitter.

“It kind of sounds like a spell.”

“A spell?”

“Well, a curse.”

“Oh, a curse,” Stiles shrugged. “How can you throw that option out there and sound so calm!”

“I guess in my profession I’ve gotten used to delivering bad news,” Deaton replied.

“I think this ranks higher on the stress scale than a dead dog, seeing as I’m about to have four of them,” Stiles hissed, ignoring Derek’s growl at being referred to as such. He could get over it.

“Just don’t let them do anything while I make a few calls. I’ll get back to you when I find something else,” Deaton said, hanging up without saying goodbye. Okay, rude. This shouldn’t be too hard though. Just have everyone sit on the floor for a bit.

“Scott, did you get a hold of the girls?” Stiles asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No,” Scott replied hesitantly. Stiles snapped his head in his direction. Why did he sound so guilty?

“What did you do?” Stiles questioned, looking him over. Honestly, how much trouble could he have gotten into in the last two minutes? He was still sitting in the same spot even.

“I might’ve broken my finger,” Scott mumbled, bringing his hand around from where he’d had it tucked behind his back.

“Do I want to know how you did that?” Stiles asked, dragging a hand down his face.

“Dialing the phone,” Scott whispered.

“The touch screen cell phone? The one without buttons,” Stiles pointed out, utterly baffled. “Can you handle it yourself?”

“Yeah,” Scott sighed, rubbing at his broken appendage. Stiles scrolled through the contacts on Scott’s phone, prepared to make the calls himself.

“Shit!” Derek grunted suddenly, from evidently not the spot Stiles had just seen him like 30 seconds ago. Stiles whipped his head around in the direction of the noise, finding Derek next to a basket with his neck and one arm caught in a shirt.

“What the hell?” Stiles moaned, dropping his head to his chest. “I thought I told everyone to stay still?”

“I don’t have to listen to you,” Derek growled, his glare intensity kind of muted by how stupid he looked.

“Oh yeah? Well, how did that work out for you?” Stiles smirked, rolling his eyes.

“I dislocated my shoulders,” Derek hissed, gritting his teeth as he tried to get himself out of his predicament.

“Both of them? I- how the-” Stiles stuttered, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Just stand still and let me help you.” Stiles carefully approached, not thinking about how he was finally about to get his hands on Derek’s bare skin. This was not the time. He grabbed the bottom of the bunched up shirt, slowly pulling it back over his head. Derek’s shoulders looked unusually knobly, not at all like the broad, strong arms he’d come to know.

“Help me pop them back in,” Derek demanded, jerking his chin toward his right arm.

“I hate you guys,” Stiles whined. This wasn’t nearly as bad as Scott’s leg or Isaac’s fork, but his future plans didn’t involve medicine for a reason. He’d never be able to enjoy body horror ever again. Stiles followed Derek’s instructions, which were alarmingly thorough. Just another day in the office probably. The squelching suck of Derek’s joints going back into place was a sound he wasn’t going to forget for a while.

“Hey Stiles, Isaac isn’t looking too good,” Boyd said, distracting Stiles from where his hands had been lingering just a bit too long on Derek’s biceps.

“Well, how can you say that, with that jawline and those curls?” Stiles chuckled.

“Wait, you need to help me put on a shirt,” Derek protested as Stiles turned to walk away. Stiles groaned, grabbing an open front sweater out of the basket and tossing it in his arms. “This is Isaac’s.

“I don’t think he’ll mind if he’s dead!” Stiles snapped, annoyed at all of this. He hadn’t even been here for 30 minutes and he was ready to tear his hair out. He walked over to where Isaac was slumped and okay yeah, he looked not good. Exsanguinated Isaac made post ice bath Isaac look like he just came back from a vacation in Cancun.

“The bleeding has stopped, but he isn’t waking up,” Boyd whispered, sounding absolutely shaken. Stiles didn’t think Isaac and Boyd were particularly close, but this had to be rattling him so soon after losing Erica.

“Okay Isaac, nap time is over,” Stiles said, poking at his cheek. How did you wake up a passed out werewolf? “Wow, check out that sale on scarves!”

“I don’t think that worked,” Boyd commented.

“Yes, I see that,” Stiles huffed, checking Isaac’s pulse. It was beating, so that was good. Was it a healthy speed? He didn’t know.

“The girls are on their way,” Scott announced, sounding very proud.

“Attaboy Scotty!” Stiles cheered. Girls coming equalled backup. Would he pawn Isaac off on them as soon as possible? You better believe it. “Did they sound okay?”

“Well, Lydia was annoyed that I was interrupting their shopping trip, so yeah,” Scott laughed. Stiles was kind of looking forward to inflicting a pissy Lydia on a grouchy Derek. “What should we do now?”

“Just stay where you are and try not to die,” Stiles instructed, glancing back at Derek who was still looking agitated.

“I’m not just going to sit on the floor like an idiot and twiddle my thumbs!” Derek snapped. Scott made a small offended noise, but otherwise stayed silent.

“Fine, do what you want, but don’t come crying to me when you shenanigan your ass into another predicament,” Stiles shot back. “It’s not like I have my hands full trying to keep your Betas alive.” Derek growled, but sat down where he was. Stiles wanted to mouth off about how that hadn’t been too hard, but decided not to press his luck. Derek was stubborn enough to just fling himself at the windows out of spite.

“How long do you think it will take Deaton to figure out what’s going on?” Boyd asked, scraping at the bit of dried blood that had crusted over his arm.

“I don’t know. It’s one thing to figure out what caused this and another to figure out how to fix it,” Stiles sighed, tipping Isaac’s head back from where it had fallen to the side. “Is there anything you noticed that was weird today? Even just slightly off?”

“No, everything was normal until it wasn’t,” Boyd answered.

“Well, I guess next time you all are running around off leash, you’ll take a chaperone,” Stiles smirked.

“Stiles, if you compare us to dogs again, I’ll show you how much of a dog I really am,” Derek growled.

“First of all, that didn’t really make sense. Second, what are you gonna do, pee on my leg?” Stiles laughed, cocking his head to the side. “You’d probably hurt yourself more than you’d hurt me. And besides, you need me to help you survive this.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Derek sneered.

“Enough!” Scott shouted, blowing out a frustrated breath. “All this fighting isn’t helping anything. Things are stressful enough as it is.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do to pass the time?” Stiles asked. He was having a good time riling up Derek. He was just so cute when he was frustrated.

“How about we play a game? What about I Spy?” Scott suggested, always the boy scout. “I’ll go first. I spy something gray.”

“Isaac,” Stiles said without thinking.

“Dude,” Scott moaned, sounding terribly disappointed. Stiles could admit that was in poor taste, but it wasn’t like it wasn’t true.

“The floor?” Boyd guessed, shooting Stiles a dark look.

“Yeah,” Scott sighed, throwing up a half hearted thumbs up.

“Invigorating,” Derek deadpanned, shaking his head.

“Do you have any ideas then?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, shut up,” Derek hissed.

“Uncalled for,” Scott huffed.

“No, I mean I hear someone coming,” Derek said quietly, shifting into a crouch. Stiles leapt from his spot on the floor, looking around for a weapon in case they were about to be attacked. Stupid Derek and his sparse accommodations. He settled on his shoe, because anything was better than nothing. He’d watched the Bourne movies enough times to pick up some tricks.

Stiles cocked his arm back in preparation when the door slid open, revealing a bewildered looking Allison and Lydia. Well, there went any hopes of starting anything with his longtime crush.

“What’re you-”

Allison’s question was cut off by an earth rumbling roar from behind Stiles’ back. He turned in shock, prepared to ask Derek what his problem was, when he saw a wolfed out Boyd shaking in rage. That was unexpected. He roared again, pounding his fist into the floor and cracking it.

“What the-”

Isaac sprang up from his slump, his eyes flashing gold as he whipped his head around in confusion. So many things were happening at once and Stiles couldn’t keep up. But hey look, Isaac wasn’t dead.

“Does this mean Boyd is the Alpha now?”

Chapter Text

“Boyd, stand down!”

“Uh oh, I think he broke his hand.”

“You called us over here for this?”

“Why is Derek wearing my sweater?”

“Enough!” Stiles shouted, silencing the crowd. The girls coming over was supposed to help him, not cause him more stress. “Come in before we alert the neighbors.”

“What neighbors? No one else even lives in the entire building,” Derek muttered.

“Whatever, it’s just a saying,” Stiles brushed off, herding the girls into the room so he could close the door. Boyd started growling when they got closer to the steps, so Stiles made them hang back behind Scott.

“What’s going on, Boyd?” Scott asked, looking over at him in confusion.

“Ask your girlfriend!” Boyd spat, hissing when Isaac started poking at his broken hand.

“When’s the last time you even saw her?” Stiles asked, thinking back over Allison’s summer abroad and Boyd’s summer in vault. It had to have been before the warehouse with Jackson. Before Erica and Boyd disappeared. Before they- oh. Oh. “Argent’s basement.” Stiles hadn’t seen Allison there during his session with Gerard, but it stood to reason that Allison at least knew they were down there. Had she known what was happening to him too? Stiles hadn’t seen either of them again before they disappeared, so he wasn’t even sure how they got out. Probably Chris, if Boyd’s anger toward Allison was any clue.

“Ask her how we got there,” Boyd snarled, digging the claws of his uninjured hand in the floor below him.

“I’m sorry,” Allison whispered, looking away from everyone.

“What did you do?” Stiles asked.

“She shot Erica and me full of arrows and delivered us to her grandfather to be tortured!” Boyd shouted, Isaac’s arms around his neck the only thing holding him back from lunging at the girl. Boyd could’ve easily pushed him to the side, but he was probably being overly cautious with his remaining packmate who’d only recently come back from the half dead.

Stiles knew that Allison had gone a little bananas after her mother’s death and he couldn’t really blame her. Been there, done that, just a little less homicidally. He’d heard about her little Rambo act at the police station, which he’d missed due to his paralyzation predicament. He’d missed what happened at the warehouse too, but tried to piece the story together after the fact. Scott had been vague, saying she stabbed Isaac a few times to get to Derek. Derek had been over the top, saying she’d practically dissected Isaac where he stood and was headed for him when Gerard’s lap lizard stopped her. So he figured the truth was somewhere in between.

“I can’t even-”

“We might’ve gotten away before the Alpha pack found us. Erica could be alive right now if it wasn’t for you,” Boyd growled. Isaac let out a little whine and gripped him tighter, ducking his head down to his chest. Allison wasn’t the only one who might have blood on her hands. Stiles had overheard Isaac and Scott talking not long after they got Boyd back, mumbling how things might’ve gone differently if Isaac had gone with them as he planned. Isaac felt guilty knowing that while he was playing a game of lacrosse, his mates were running for their lives. It wasn’t as if Isaac wasn’t fighting in a battle himself, but the what ifs were always brutal.

“I should go,” Allison muttered, turning back toward the door to leave.

“Wait, shit!” Stiles yelled, blocking her path. “I’m sorry Boyd, but I need all the help I can get right now. Just try to keep separate while we survive this thing and then you can hash this out. I don’t want to seem like I’m making light of this issue, but none of it matters if we’re all dead.”

“What’s even going on right now?” Lydia asked, cocking a hand on her hip.

“What did Scott tell you?”

“All he said was you all might be dying and we needed to come here, but also that we wouldn’t be in danger,” Lydia replied.

“Dude,” Stiles groaned, glaring down at his best friend.

“I didn’t know what to say. This is kind of hard to explain,” Scott defended.

“I brought weapons just in case,” Allison said, jiggling a duffle bag Stiles hadn’t even noticed she had.

“Well, keep them away from everyone. It’d be like giving a machine gun to a baby,” Stiles warned, gesturing for her to get the bag further away from Scott.

“Can we get a real explanation please? I should be shopping right now to complete my back to school wardrobe?” Lydia sighed.

“Why do you need new clothes? It doesn’t seem like you changed sizes over the summer,” Stiles pointed out, stepping back when she shot him a glare. Okay, moving on. “The wolves suck at living right now and are actively trying to kill themselves.”

“I’ll be sure to take you out with me,” Derek growled, looking totally threatening in his wool.

“How did this happen?” Allison asked, setting her bag down against the wall.

“Deaton is working on that right now. He thinks curse, but who knows anymore,” Stiles shrugged. He didn’t think anything could surprise him at this point. If a unicorn pranced across the room, he’d just toss it a carrot.

“What’s happened so far?” Allison asked, raking her eyes across everyone in the room, moving quickly past Boyd.

“You don’t want to know,” Stiles muttered, thinking how he’d only be using spoons from now on. Maybe sporks if he got desperate.

“Something involving how you came to be covered in blood?” Lydia questioned, pointing to his shirt. Oh yeah, he was kind of sticky with liquid Isaac. Why bother cleaning up when chances were he’d just get messy again?

“You really don’t want to know,” Stiles insisted, moving back to the middle of the room. This would be the best vantage point over all the wolves, in case they needed something. Allison could stick to Scott, since he was the only wolf she hadn’t tried to kill, and Lydia could be his utility player, going wherever he needed her. Although he’d never say those words out loud.

This could work. All they had to do was sit still and be careful for a while and everything would be fine. Deaton was always coming in clutch with that sweet knowledge and Stiles knew he wouldn’t let them down this time. Speaking of, Scott’s phone started to ring from where Stiles had shoved it in his pocket. He grabbed it as fast as possible, never so happy to see that beautiful bald man’s face in his life.

“Tell me something good,” Stiles said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I have good news and bad,” Deaton started, and wasn’t that just the worst saying in the world. The bad news was always so bad that the good news never had a chance to redeem anything. “The good news is I know what this curse is and how to reverse it.”

“What? That’s amazing! Why are you making it sound like that’s a bad thing?” Stiles wondered.

“While I know the fundamentals on how this curse can be reversed, I am unfortunately unable to do it myself. Only the person who cast it can lift it,” Deaton explained. Stiles groaned, sinking down to sit on the floor. His bubble hadn’t just been burst, it had been a bubblegum bubble that was now stuck in his hair. How were they supposed to find out who did this and then convince them to undo it? The list of suspects was endless.

“That’s just great,” Stiles muttered, running a hand down his face.

“That’s not all I’m afraid,” Deaton sighed. Of course it wasn’t. “This curse is more of a progressive one than you might think. At first it starts out with a couple accidents here and there, but as time goes on, it will start to influence those around the affected.”

“So you mean I’m gonna get a fork jammed in my neck too?” Stiles scoffed, ignoring Isaac’s offended grumble.

“Not necessarily. The wolves are kind of like a beacon of bad luck, drawing it out of those surrounding them. So while you aren’t so much in danger of falling down the stairs and breaking your neck, it wouldn’t be surprising if you accidentally knocked one of them down and broke their neck.”

“So you’re saying I’m going to be as much of a danger to them as they are to themselves?” Stiles asked. He missed Deaton’s next words when Scott let out a giant sneeze, followed by a crack as his nose slammed down into his fist. It immediately started gushing blood and Stiles could only stare in shock and annoyance.

“I’ve got a towel in my bag!” Allison exclaimed, rushing over to where it sat in the corner.

“How does this end?” Stiles asked, afraid to hear the answer, but needing to have all the pieces laid out.

“This isn’t something that wears off. The curse is either broken by the caster or when everyone affected has died.” Stiles was about to say something really profound and clever when he was distracted by a sudden clatter to his right. Well, the clatter wasn’t too distracting, but the arrow that whizzed by his head and landed solidly in the center of Isaac’s back was.

“I’m gonna have to call you back.”

Chapter Text

Boyd caught Isaac as he fell forward, sending out another deafening roar in Allison’s direction.

“I’m so sorry!” Allison exclaimed, throwing up her hands in surrender.

“Who the hell walks around with a crossbow with the arrow in it?” Derek growled, holding himself back from rushing over to Isaac.

“I had it ready in case there was active danger here and I needed something quick. We didn’t know what we were walking into!” Allison stammered.

“Don’t blame me,” Scott mumbled through the hands that were cupping his bleeding nose.

“Would everyone just shut up and help us!” Boyd shouted, pausing the bickering. That snapped Stiles out of his stupor and he quickly crawled over to Isaac to check out the damage.

“Hey buddy, how you doing?” Stiles asked, flicking his eyes over Isaac’s back before moving in front of him. “Kind of got a human pincushion thing going on today, huh?”

“Is it bad?” Isaac whimpered, clenching his eyes shut as a wave of pain washed over him.

“You know, I don’t think so,” Stiles said, looking to the others for support. “Probably easier than the fork.”

“Can you pull it out? Scott pulled it out last time,” Isaac moaned, resting his head on Boyd’s shoulder.

“Last time?” Derek seethed, turning red eyes in Allison’s direction. “Just how many times have you shot my pack?”

“It was at the warehouse, after Jackson threw you. But she was aiming for me so…” Scott trailed off after realizing that probably wasn’t helping things much. Damn, Stiles had missed a lot.

“We can discuss Allison’s affinity for maiming werewolves later,” Stiles grunted, shooting Derek a warning look. “Right now we need to-”

“No, no, it’s bad now. It’s bad,” Boyd called out, reaching down to lift up Isaac’s face. The face with the mouth that was steadily dripping blood.

“Shit! Okay, we need to get this thing out so he can heal,” Stiles stuttered, preparing his shattered nerves for another traumatizing moment.

“Wait, it’s not like the last arrow!” Allison warned, biting her lip. “This one has a wide barbed arrowhead.”

“I don’t like Allison either Boyd,” Isaac whined, choking out a spray of blood.

“That’s it!” Derek spat, bear crawling over to their little blood huddle. Stiles half expected him to end up with something broken by the time he made it, but was pleasantly surprised when he arrived intact. “Isaac, I’m going to open up the wound a little bit so the arrow can slide out, okay? Just a few seconds and then you’ll be able to heal.”

“How are you gonna do that?” Stiles asked. Derek flicked his claws out, giving him a hard look. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“Do you think I want to hurt my Betas?” Derek hissed.

“Well, you did break his arm that one time during training,” Boyd said hesitantly.

“He what!” Stiles and Scott shouted in unison.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter,” Isaac mumbled, glaring up at Boyd.

“Okay well, if we survive this, someone is going to have to teach you that being hurt does matter,” Stiles ground out, resisting the urge to smack Derek. This is the guy who made his pants tent?

“It was one time, okay! And I felt bad afterwards,” Derek defended, pursing his lips. “I was just trying to teach them.”

“I bet Isaac’s dad used to tell him the same thing!” Scott snapped. Isaac sucked in a shuddering breath, dipping his head down in embarrassment.

“Everyone, enough!” Stiles shouted, frowning at the occupants of the room. “This is not the time for this. We can figure out why we’re always assholes to each other later, when there aren’t other assholes out there trying to kill us.” Derek looked as chastised as Stiles could ever remember him looking and he felt a little spark of satisfaction.

“Boyd, I’m gonna need you to hold him, okay? Isaac, just try to relax and stay still. It’ll be over before you know it,” Derek directed, jerking Stiles closer. “When I tell you to pull, you do it.”

“Why? Why me? I thought you were doing it?” Stiles whined, rubbing his sweaty hands against his thighs. He was supposed to be doing homework today, not pulling things out of Isaac’s body.

“If I can hold the wound open, it’ll make this a lot easier, but I’m gonna need both hands to do it,” Derek said, pulling Stiles right next to his side. Stiles felt his traitorous heart stutter at being so close to Derek, but he could just blame that on nerves, right? “For Isaac.” As if Stiles was doing any of this specifically for Isaac. Sure, they didn’t hate each other, but helping Derek had way more appeal at this point.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles sighed, leaning back to give Derek space to work. To Isaac’s credit, he stayed mostly still. There was a little bit of squirming and a few quiet moans, but he had the fortitude of a champ. Or of someone used to being hurt. Someone who’d trained himself not to show weakness in front of an authority figure and to take whatever they decided to dish out.

Derek was being swift, but also more careful than Stiles had ever seen him. Stiles was used to seeing Derek use his Betas like pawns, like foot soldiers in a war they’d all found themselves fighting. He’d changed a little bit after Erica, but maybe he’d always been like this when there were no outsiders around. Well, not always, according to that bomb Boyd dropped earlier.

“Now!” Derek ordered, and Stiles didn’t give himself time to think about it. He grabbed the arrow as firmly as he could and yanked, shouting louder than Isaac did. The moist tearing sound it made as it was freed quickly took the top spot as the worst sound Stiles had ever heard, unseating the reigning champ of Derek’s shoulders. He resisted the urge to throw the arrow as far away from them all as he could, because with their luck right now, it would probably end up in Scott’s eye.

“Thanks,” Isaac shuddered, tipping his head up now that he could finally breathe easier.

“Don’t thank me for shit like this!” Derek snapped, holding his bloody hands away from his body. Isaac ducked his head back down, staring at the floor.

“Okay, let’s all relax now. This last crisis has been settled, so just sit still while I baby proof the loft,” Stiles said, sliding Derek’s old bloody shirt at him. It wouldn’t get him completely clean, but it would help.

“What do you want us to do?” Allison asked, finally leaving the spot she’d been frozen in while watching the whole scene.

“I don’t want you to do anything,” Stiles said, wiping his own hands on his shirt again.

“You have to know that Allison didn’t do that on purpose,” Lydia insisted, flicking her eyes quickly to the injured werewolf huddle. Isaac was curled up on his side half asleep, while Boyd was rubbing his hopefully healed hand.

“No, I know that. And after hearing what Deaton said, I know it wasn’t completely her fault,” Stiles sighed, sagging under the weight of being the bearer of bad news. “Turns out we’re all mirrors that were broken on a Friday the 13th.”

“Can you stop with the symbolism and be more specific?” Lydia asked, rolling her eyes.

“Looks like the bad luck is contagious and we’re more likely to hurt them than help them,” Stiles muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How do we stop this?” Scott asked, his voice finally back to normal after sounding plugged beyond repair.

“We can’t. Only the person who did this can fix it. Made any new enemies lately?” Stiles asked, turning to Derek. He knew Scott wasn’t going around stirring up trouble, but that was just the thing that Derek would do.

“I’ve been busy with the Alpha pack, if you can recall,” Derek grumbled, avoiding looking over at Boyd. “This isn’t really their style though. They are more direct and aggressive.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Allison asked, setting her jaw in determination.

“If you two could just be like, on standby or something, that would be great. I’m going to try to get this space as safe as possible while we’re stuck here. Hopefully Deaton will pull a miracle out of somewhere,” Stiles said, scooting on his butt with the arrow away from everyone before he risked standing. Sure, he looked like an idiot, but that was better than tripping over his feet and causing more damage.

Stiles looked around, trying to figure out all the things in this room that could kill someone. He already had the arrow and he was definitely tucking away Allison’s bag of goodies. Who knew if she had a grenade in there with the pin already pulled out “just in case.” Derek’s lack of decor was finally coming in handy, since there wasn’t much that could pose a threat. The desk and couch seemed far enough away to not be an issue, as long as everyone stayed put.

Stiles skittered along the edge of the space, trying to keep his distance from all of them. He scooped up the crossbow and carefully stuffed it back into the bag, hoping he wouldn’t set off anything else. If he noticed Scott easing a little more out of the line of fire, he didn’t blame him. Stiles took the bag into the little kitchen on the side of the loft, wishing there was a door he could close, but hoped shoving the bag under the sink would be good enough. There were a lot of dangerous things in here, but Deaton hadn’t mentioned inanimate objects coming to life and attacking, so it was probably fine.

He made his way back into the main room, happy to find everyone where he’d left them. There didn’t seem to be any new injuries either, which was a relief. The only thing different was Isaac’s snoring from where he’d finally fallen asleep.

“Make sure that stays normal snoring and doesn’t turn into sleep apnea,” Stiles chuckled, dipping his head in Boyd’s direction. The serious Beta didn’t seem to be in the mood for joking, so Stiles moved on. He went back to sit down in the center of the room, so he’d have the best access to all the wolves, just in case. Deaton didn’t say how long people usually lasted before succumbing to this kind of curse, but Stiles was going to make sure everyone lived through this. They’d already lost too much and they were due a win.

“How you doing, Scott?” Stiles asked, picking at his hand. Why hadn’t he washed up while he was in the kitchen? Probably would’ve flooded the loft. When Scott didn’t answer, he snapped his head up, scared he’d missed an injury. “Scott?” Scott was slumped forward, slowly folding in on himself. Stiles looked over toward Derek and Boyd, noticing they looked similar.

“What’s wrong?” Allison asked, bouncing to her feet.

“How long have they been like this?” Stiles asked, raising back up too.

“Just a minute. Are they not supposed to sleep?”

“All of them nodding off at the same time is a little suspect, wouldn’t you say?” Stiles hissed. He was starting to not like Allison either. Stiles took a chance, sliding over to Derek to try to figure out what was going on. Derek was staring blankly ahead, but he didn’t seem as bad off as the others yet. “Derek? What’s happening?”

“Lydia,” Derek murmured, tipping forward suddenly, Stiles barely able to catch him before he slammed his face into the floor.

“Whoa, whoa! What about Lydia?” Stiles asked, setting Derek down on his side when he didn’t answer. He spun to stare at the teen in question, hoping she’d know what he was trying to say. She looked confused at first, but then Stiles saw the moment she realized what was going on.

“My party,” Lydia gasped. Stiles shook his head, thinking back to that night. Scott had been the only werewolf in the group to be there. What did Derek know about it?

“Oh shit,” Stiles sighed, his eyes widening in recognition. That was the night that Lydia Martin had turned into Little Miss Roofie. “Did either of you bring wolfsbane?”

“No!” they both denied, which meant the truth was so much worse. They were under attack.

Chapter Text

“What do we do?” Lydia whispered, glancing around as if someone was about to pop out of a corner. She was the least equipped to deal with a fight.

“Go upstairs and hide. Call anyone you can think of,” Stiles instructed, pointing to the rickety looking spiral staircase. If it didn’t fall as she climbed it, that would be a miracle. She sprinted off in that direction, keeping to the edge of the room as much as possible.

“Where do you want me?” Allison asked, crouching down into a fighting position. If it was just the two of them against who knows how many people, they were screwed. Allison could take care of herself, but Stiles was more likely to bring down their average.

“I gotta get those weapons,” Stiles moaned, because of course they’d need them right after he got rid of them.

“Not so fast,” a voice called out from the door as it suddenly slid open. Allison quickly jumped down from her spot on the steps, dragging a limp Scott closer to the others so she could stand over him protectively. There were four men, three of them with guns pointed into the room. Stiles resisted the urge to look back and check if Lydia had been able to hide, not wanting to give away her position if she’d been successful.

“Who are you?” Stiles growled, trying to channel Derek. He was not a skinny, floppy teen, he was the defender of this pack.

“You don’t remember me?” the man in front asked, stepping unsteadily into the room. He looked like background actor number two, why the hell would Stiles recognize him? “Seems unfair, since I’m reminded of my encounter with you all every day.”

“Maybe you’ve got the wrong people? I’m pretty good with faces and I think I’d remember one as stupid as yours,” Stiles hissed. The man may have had a limp, but his arm strength was all there. Stiles learned that first hand when the man’s fist cracked against his cheekbone. Stiles went down hard, barely missing falling on top of Derek as he clutched his throbbing face.

“Hey!” Allison shouted, freezing when the guns in the room shifted in her direction.

“Don’t think you’re not going to get what’s coming to you too!” the man snapped, pointing his gun in her face for emphasis. “If your grandfather could see you now, working with these freaks, he’d be disgusted!” The mention of Gerard made everything slot into place.

“You’re the guy from the police station,” Stiles muttered, glaring up at him. “The one who was sent to murder Isaac.”

“The one who was entrusted to make the world a better place!” the man sneered, stalking over to where the other teen was lying helpless. “Instead, all I got was a bum leg and a traumatic brain injury.” Then the man took that bum leg and kicked Isaac straight in the face with it. Stiles could hear the crunch of Isaac’s nose from where he was sitting. The force of the assault pushed Isaac onto his back, but other than that, there was no reaction.

“Hey asshole, I’m the one who shot you in the leg!” Allison hissed, balling her fists as she visibly ached to use her training to take out these bastards.

“Maybe I should return the favor?” the man suggested, shifting his gun to point at her leg. Stiles had to do something to make sure Allison wouldn’t get hurt. Not for some knight in shining armor, protect the women and children sense, but because she could kick much more ass than he could and he needed her to help save him.

“You work for the Argents, but you’re gonna threaten one of them? Don’t the women lead the family? Isn’t she like your boss now?” Stiles smirked, feeling an odd mix of satisfaction and terror as the gun moved to point at him instead. If he didn’t come out of this thing with a full pack membership, he was going to be pissed.

“That name is mud now, after what they’ve done. Turning their back on their own kind to help these things. Once everyone in the community knows the truth, they’ll all be the enemy, along with the beasts!” he spat, shaking with rage.

“And what happened to your code, huh? You act like you’re so high and mighty, but you come here to kill a bunch of kids who haven’t hurt anyone?”

“It’s in their nature to kill!”

“Says the guy with the gun. And the poison. And I bet that little spell was yours too,” Stiles said mockingly. If he was going to die, he was damn sure not going to be lectured beforehand. Not by this hypocrite.

“That was my friend here,” the man grinned, jerking his chin in the direction of the man who’d come in without a gun. “If you all can get a little help from your emissaries, why can’t I reach across the aisle for some of my own?” Stiles felt the first spark of hope bubble in his chest in a while, but he couldn’t let it show. If they brought the person who made the curse, they could reverse it. They just had to incapacitate three armed men.

Of course, that wasn’t the only thing that started to bubble up. Isaac just so happened to choose right now to start choking on the blood that was pooling in his throat from his broken nose. He was still flat on his back and didn’t have the wherewithal to even roll his head to the side.

“Isaac!” Stiles gasped, lurching in his direction only to be stopped by a gun in his face.

“Don’t move!” the man growled.

“But he’s dying!” Stiles shouted, his body trembling as he tried to keep himself from moving.

“Yeah, that’s the point,” the man laughed, turning to watch the scene with glee. Stiles couldn’t let Isaac go out like that. They were all meant to go out in a blaze of glory, if anything. Drowning in your own blood from a broken nose was too lame. Isaac would definitely find a way to haunt his ass if Stiles let that happen, and he wouldn’t blame him.

“You have to do all this to take us out, you coward? Couldn’t come in here and fight man to man?” Stiles snapped, trying to naturally inch his way closer in his flailing fury. “Is this really gonna satisfy you? Taking everyone out while they’re defenseless? Too weak to do it with your team, with your guns?”

“Shut up.”

“Hurt your pride when you got bested by a couple kids? I bet Gerard loved that when you came crawling back. I know he didn’t take kindly to failures, and that’s what you are!” Stiles cackled, letting his eyes take on a crazed quality. The man reached down, grabbing Stiles around his collar and pulling him up to his feet.

“Quincy, shut off the wolfsbane,” the man growled, keeping his eyes locked on Stiles.

“Rick, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Quincy warned.

“No, the kid is right. See, this was going to be a mercy kill. I was going to take pity on them and kill them while they were asleep. But now, now I’m gonna let them wake up a little, so they can watch this one go first,” Rick said, giving Stiles a little shake before tossing him on the floor next to Isaac. Stiles didn’t hesitate, using the opportunity to turn Isaac on his side. He tried snapping his nose back in place as best he could too, in case that helped. An hour ago that would’ve left Stiles gagging, but now it was as simple as cracking a knuckle.

Quincy scampered off to do Rick’s bidding, like the little bitch he obviously was. So that only left two men with visible guns and a man who dabbled in magic. Stiles still didn’t like those odds, but all he needed to do now was stall for time until the wolfsbane started wearing off. Boyd and Scott were pretty much uninjured, so they’d be able to do some damage if they got the chance. And Derek was the Alpha, like he was so fond of reminding people of. He’d definitely be able to push through the after effects quickly. Stiles was pretty much considering Isaac a lost cause at this point, for good reason in his opinion. The teen was currently gurgling out a puddle of blood next to Stiles’ leg. How he still had blood to lose was a mystery.

Stiles tried to steal a look up at Allison to get an idea of where her head was at, but Rick was in the way. She was probably plotting a way to shoot everyone with an arrow, good guys included. He hoped Lydia was able to call for backup, although who would she call? Stiles didn’t even know if she had Deaton’s phone number. They really needed more werewolf friendly contacts.

Stiles suppressed a twitch when he heard a low moan coming from behind him. He prayed that no one else heard the noise too. Of all the times for Boyd to be making noise, he sure did choose the most inopportune moment. But if Boyd was waking up, it meant the others would be as well. He hoped Scott wouldn’t wake up complaining, since that was usually his default.

“So what’s your plan after this?” Allison asked, casually shifting her feet so she moved slightly away from the group. “You planning on starting your own hunting family? Because I’ve got to say, even if you don’t respect the Argent name anymore, a lot of people still do. It’s one thing to go against code with the werewolves, but it’s different when you go after one of your own.”

“Speaking from experience?” Rick hissed, gesturing down to the leg she shot.

“I could’ve aimed for your heart,” Allison shrugged, moving a few inches further. “And I would’ve been well within my rights, as you were going after an innocent. If we don’t abide by long held standards, are we any better than the things we hunt?”

“If you even have to ask if a human ranks above a beast, you’re more far gone than I thought!” Rick screeched. “Forget what I said before. I’m getting rid of you right now.” Stiles watched as Rick brought the gun level to Allison’s head, preparing himself to take the kill shot. Allison had nowhere to go and was too far to disarm him in time. She was about to die and Stiles was too slow to do anything about it.

But Isaac wasn’t.

Chapter Text

Stiles changed his mind. He loved forks now. There was no better eating utensil on this planet. He wasn’t even going to ask Derek before he took it either. That thing was going to get plated in gold and hung above his mantel. Stiles didn’t even have a mantel, but he would get one for this. Just as soon as they pulled it out of Rick’s junk.

Stiles’ terrible babysitting skills might’ve just saved Allison’s life. While he’d taken the arrow out of the room to protect the pack, he’d completely forgotten about the fork that was partially hidden under a towel. But now it seemed like the best mistake he’d ever made.

Isaac had surged up from out of nowhere, sinking the fork in as deep as it would go. Obviously it couldn’t go that far, but it didn’t really need to in that part of the anatomy. It made Rick’s shot go wide, giving Allison the opportunity to duck behind the pillar. Stiles hoped this feat of strength was just the beginning of Isaac’s takedown of the threat, but he was currently sagged in a pile beneath Rick’s feet.

Rick growled, pulling the fork from his body and throwing it across the room. The other gunman and the witchy guy seemed shocked into stillness, so Stiles ignored them for now. His attention was focused on Rick, who was currently turning his gun toward a defenseless Isaac. Stiles leapt forward, pushing at Rick’s gun hand just as he fired. The shot went into the floor, barely missing Isaac and thankfully not hitting anyone else. Stiles used the only move he had in his arsenal and kicked Rick in the crotch. Rick bent down, losing his faculties enough that he dropped his gun. Stiles went to grab it, but bullshit luck was still in full effect and he accidentally kicked it across the room.

“Shoot him!” Rick roared, using one hand to point at Stiles while the other one still cradled his assaulted groin. Stiles had nowhere to go. He could make an attempt at a dive, but he’d leave Isaac to take the bullet in his place, and that was unacceptable. He and Isaac may not be bros, but he wouldn’t leave anyone to just get shot like that. Stiles flinched at the sight of the gun pointing toward him, but he wasn’t going to look away. This man was going to have to stare into the eyes of the kid he was killing.

But no shot ever came. Faster than what seemed humanly possible, a blade flew through the air and landed right in the hand of henchman number three. He shrieked and dropped his gun, cradling his impaled palm in horror. Allison leapt out from behind the pillar, looking every bit like the wild huntress she was, and went right after Rick. They started doing some complicated back and forth, but Stiles had to pay attention to the others.

Captain Curse was still standing back, looking like he really didn’t want to be there. Why would he even get mixed up in something like this? It didn’t seem like these hunters would have any qualms turning around and killing him when they didn’t need him anymore. But Stiles could ponder relationships later, when his team was safe.

Stiles grabbed Isaac under the armpits, dragging him away from the action and closer to Boyd. It might not be a good idea to have them all bunched together, but it would be easier to guard them all if they were. He was just about to go back for Scott when the fighting got too close to him and Rick stepped on his hand. Stiles could hear the crunch from where he was standing and cringed. But then a few moments later, Scott started to stir. And then Stiles remembered something from another crisis.

When Derek and Stiles were paralyzed with kanima venom, Derek said triggering his healing ability would help flush the toxin out faster. It had worked a little bit, but that wasn’t the same as wolfsbane. Maybe this would be easier to come back from? Isaac had a surge of energy not too long after Stiles popped his nose back into place, and Scott was twitching now with his broken fingers. Would Derek wake up if he hurt him too?

Stiles didn’t really like the idea of hurting Derek on purpose, no matter how much it might help. And what would he even do? With the bad luck curse, even giving him a paper cut could turn into a fatal wound. But there might not be any other choice. If Quincy came back and the other gunman got his wits about him again, there would be no chance left.

He finally made his way back to Scott, pulling him over and dropping him next to Boyd, who hadn’t made any more noise after that initial moan. Stiles couldn’t worry about him now though, he needed big daddy. And wow, he could never call Derek that out loud. He crouched down in front of Derek, making sure to keep the action in the room within sight. Allison was still holding her own with Rick, getting in a few jabs here and there. The other gunman was still whining about his hand, solidifying his place as the weakest link in the hunter pack. No wonder Stiles could barely remember any of these fools. They were clearly not the A squad.

“Forgive me for this,” Stiles muttered, jerking Derek up by the collar and punching him across the cheek. Stiles couldn’t tell if his hand or Derek’s face fared worse, but he didn’t know what else to do. That had to be enough. It had to work.

“I’m going to kill you for this!” the third gunman hissed, stalking toward him. Well, now he was the knifeman evidently, since he’d abandoned his gun for Allison’s knife. Why was he going to be punished for Allison’s actions? That hardly seemed fair.

“Come on man, you don’t really want to do that. Look at all this mess. Is it worth it?” Stiles asked, trying to negotiate. No one really wanted to kill if they didn’t have to, right?

“All wolves need to be put down,” he growled, sneering at the boy pile behind him.

“How specist of you,” Stiles spat, standing up to defend his pack. “Look around you. We’re all still people. The fact that you can’t accept that says a lot more about you than it does about them!”

“I’m not going to accept being lower on the food chain!” the man shouted, swinging his blade in Stiles’ direction. He jumped back, barely dodging the swipe. The man swung again, but this time, Stiles forgot how close he was to Derek. He fell backwards over him, landing on his butt like an idiot. An idiot who was about to die. He reflexively closed his eyes as he saw the blade coming down in his direction, apologizing to his dad for leaving him alone.

But the knife never touched him. There was scuffling and movement in front of him, but Stiles didn’t want to open his eyes. This could’ve been a trick and denial was such a better place to be right now. It wasn’t until he heard a very familiar growl that he let his eyes spring open, looking up in awe at the body standing protectively in front of him.

“Get away from him, you bitch.”

Chapter Text

Stiles could’ve creamed his pants at the sound of Derek quoting Aliens in his defense, if he hadn’t been trying so hard not to crap them. He didn’t even care if it was on purpose or not, but if it was, Stiles was a goner. He was going to profess his love for the grumpy wolf, just as soon as they all survived this. Said wolf was standing between him and danger, but he didn’t look as steady on his feet as Stiles would’ve liked. Still, better than nothing.

“You think you can fight? With all that wolfsbane in your system?” the hunter sneered, pointing the bloody knife at Derek’s face.

“You’re gonna find out,” Derek growled, flicking out his claws on one hand. One hand? Well, half the claws were better than none. Derek leapt forward and immediately took a slash to the forearm. Shit luck was still in full effect evidently. Derek wouldn’t be deterred though, making moves that were easily blocked and taking damage almost every time. It would’ve been funny to see Derek so summarily bested, if it wasn’t absolutely terrifying instead.

In normal circumstances, Stiles would put money on Derek winning a fight every time. No matter the opponent. Yeah, he’d seen Derek get his ass kicked a few times, and practically gutted thanks to crazy wolf Peter, but he was still kicking and that meant something. That may not be the case for long though, with the way things were going now. Stiles had to do something to help in the fight.

He may not be good in hand to hand combat, but he was good at flinging his body places and hoping for the best. Stiles rushed the hunter’s legs, keeping low to try to stay out of the way of the knife. The man stumbled, only a little, but it was enough to let Derek get a swipe to his wrist, knocking the knife to the floor. They all fell into a pile, with Stiles trying to aim his kicks at the bad guy, but mostly hitting Derek. This curse was very frustrating.

Stiles abandoned trying to fight and instead focused on grabbing the knife before anyone else could. That would give them the upper hand they so desperately needed. And while he didn’t really see himself as a killer, he’d do whatever it took to get all of his friends out of this alive. He needed to channel Allison and go nuts.

Speaking of Allison, she was still fighting with Rick in what seemed like the longest scuffle in history. It really hadn’t been that long, but it sure felt that way. They had moved a little further away from the downed werewolves thankfully, so there was less chance of more accidental crunches. Allison was giving as good as she got, looking like a warrior in her dress and ankle boots. He really hated being such a weak link.

Stiles finally spotted the ring of the dagger where it was laying underneath the hunter’s leg as he continued tussling with Derek. He had to figure out a way to get them to move so he could grab it. Or at least distract him long enough. Stiles was the king of making clutch moves, even when in all fairness they shouldn’t have worked. He needed a hail mary right now.

The hunter suddenly had the advantage, straddling a prone Derek and choking him. It was now or never. Stiles sent out a battle cry, letting it out as high pitched as he could. Everyone in the room who was conscious was distracted by the sudden noise, except for Allison. She had the focus of a snake, taking control as soon as Rick was puzzled enough to look in Stiles’ direction. Allison hit him with a quick jab to the throat, following it up with a knee to the face. He went down hard, spraying blood from his nose along the way.

The hunter on Derek made the mistake of looking over at his fallen companion and that was all Stiles needed. He pushed the man to the side, grabbing the blade and swinging it down into his uninjured arm. The man screamed, forgetting about Derek and trying to tend to his new wound. Derek bucked him off, pulling the struggling man’s head into his arms and applying a sleeper hold that was so perfect it could be in an audition tape to WWE. The hunter only fought for a few seconds before the pressure was too much and he passed out.

Stiles looked around the room in shock, amazed that they’d come out of this fight mostly intact. They still had the curse to deal with and the witchy dick in the corner, but this ordeal might finally be over.

The three little werewolves chose this time to start groaning and shifting as their bodies finally pushed through the effects of the wolfsbane. Better late than never, but pretty unhelpful.

“Can you check on them?” Stiles asked Allison, helping Derek to his feet. Moving him was still risky, but he doubted Derek wanted to stay on the floor after all of this.

“Yeah,” Allison agreed, walking toward the group while keeping the last baddie in the room in her sights. Stiles wasn’t sure why the man hadn’t run off during the melee, but he was glad he didn’t. They still needed him to get rid of the curse.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, fluttering his hands around Derek’s body. Most of the cuts had already started to heal, just a little bit slower thanks to the last of the wolfsbane. But at least Derek didn’t look like he was about to keel over and die at the moment.

“Yeah-”

A loud bang, followed by a sharp pain took Stiles right off his feet. He fell forward, taking Derek down with him. His left arm was burning and he writhed in pain, looking down to see a little chunk of meat gone from the edge of his shoulder. Stiles looked back to see where the shot came from, staring at the face of that asshole Quincy. How had he forgotten about him?

Quincy was quickly making his way back into the room, pointing his gun toward the now awake, but groggy Beta pile. Allison was standing in front of them, unarmed, but not backing down.

“We have to do something,” Stiles whispered, trying to rally Derek one last time. But he didn’t get an answer. He looked down, expecting to see the scruffy werewolf annoyed by Stiles’ boney body laying on top of him. But Derek’s eyes were closed. And there was a frightening puddle of blood pooling under the right side of his chest. That bullet had grazed Stiles, but found a home in Derek.

“Are you willing to die for them, girl? For these monsters?” Quincy spat, pointing his gun at each of the defenseless teens. Allison looked back at each one, letting her gaze linger on Boyd a little longer than the rest. She turned back toward the hunter, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin.

“Yes, I am.”

Bang.

Chapter Text

Stiles had never really been the type to pray. His mom had gone to church all her life. It wasn’t as often after he’d been born, but she would still volunteer for the different events put on by the local Catholic church. Stiles would run around with the other kids while his mom manned a table or booth. After her death, he’d shunned the whole idea completely, figuring any God that would take away his mother was not worth his time. But he still sent a thank you up to someone when that bullet didn’t go into Allison. And when it did go into the hunter.

“Allison, are you okay?” Chris Argent asked as he strode into the room like a badass, securing the number one spot on Stiles’ list of hot dad fantasies. There weren’t really any other options, but that didn’t matter. He was staying at the top. Chris had his sights locked on the man who was about to kill his daughter, who was currently writhing on the floor with a bullet wound in his shoulder. The adult could handle the rest of this, Stiles needed to help Derek.

He hadn’t moved since they both went down, but Stiles could feel he was still breathing. Stiles moved to straddle Derek’s waist, so he wasn’t crushing him anymore. He was scared to move Isaac’s sweater to the side to check the damage, but he had to do something.

“Derek, you gotta wake up, okay? You can’t do this now, not when it’s so close to being over,” Stiles pleaded, tapping his cheek. He got no response. “Come on man, I didn’t even get a chance to tell you how I feel. I know you don’t feel the same way about me, but I don’t care. You can’t die without hearing me say I love you.” Stiles folded himself over Derek’s chest, burying his face in his neck. This was not how he planned to reveal his crush to Derek, but this might be his last chance. He’d wasted so much time.

“Stiles.”

Stiles couldn’t hear much over the sounds of his own weeping, but he could’ve sworn he heard the low rumble of Derek’s voice saying his name under him. He shot back up, looking down into the beautiful green eyes of the man he’d fallen hard for.

“Derek. How-”

“I think your love saved me,” Derek murmured, reaching a hand up to brush away the tears from Stiles’ cheeks.

“Really?” Stiles breathed out, panting in relief and hope.

“No, dumbass, I only got grazed,” Derek snorted, pushing at Stiles’ shoulder. “Now get the hell off of me.”

“That wasn’t nice!” Scott grumbled from his spot across the room.

“What happened to my nose?” Isaac mumbled, pressing his fingers into his messy face.

“Who is that?” Chris asked, pointing his gun at the man who still hadn’t spoken or moved during this whole ordeal. That snapped Stiles out of his rejection fog.

“Don’t kill him!” Stiles shouted, scrambling back to his feet with his hand clasped around his injured arm. “We need him alive to undo the spell.”

“What spell? What’s going on?” Chris asked, moving his gun to aim at a less lethal part of the man’s body.

“That’s not important now. Wait, how did you even know to come?” Stiles questioned.

“Lydia called,” Chris replied, passing a handful of zipties to Allison. She went around to the downed men, relieving them of their weapons and securing them tight.

“Lydia!” Stiles called out, looking to the top of the stairs. He’d forgotten about her in the chaos of everything, but of course she would come in clutch. That years long crush hadn’t been for nothing.

“Can I finally come down now?” Lydia asked, peeking her head over the landing. “Listening to the sounds of fighting is very dull. I would’ve dated someone on the wrestling team if that kind of thing excited me.”

“Will someone tell me what we need this man for, because I’d really like to take these hunters somewhere to let them know how I feel about them threatening my daughter,” Chris growled, kicking at the only one of them who was conscious.

“He cast a spell to make the werewolves accident themselves to death and he is the only one who can undo it. And be careful where you point that thing. Unintentional discharge is very likely right now,” Stiles warned.

“Accident themselves? They are going to defecate to death?” Chris exclaimed, completely bewildered.

“And you said my explanations were bad,” Scott snorted, flexing his recently healed hand.

“It’s a bad luck curse,” Derek growled, slowly standing up. He let the sweater fall from his shoulders, taking great care to tie it around his wound. The brief look Stiles got of it showed that it really was a graze, just a very long one that spanned the length of his ribs.

“My sweater,” Isaac moaned, pouting at the ruined article of clothing.

“Derek will get you a new one,” Scott soothed, giving him a reassuring nod.

“One you’ll end up buried in if this spell doesn’t get reversed,” Derek grumbled, stalking over toward the man in the corner.

“Maybe let the humans handle this?” Stiles suggested, wanting to keep as much distance between him and Derek. He didn’t know what he was expecting from his declaration of love, but a brush off in front of everyone wasn’t the best feeling.

“What’s your name?” Chris asked, keeping himself between the man and the rest of them. It felt nice to be one of the ones protected now.

“You can call me Bob,” the man replied, looking much more nervous than someone with the power to cause this much chaos should look.

“Okay, Bob, you mind telling me how you’re going to fix whatever it is you did?” Chris demanded, glancing down at his feet. Stiles followed his gaze, noticing the circle of ash. No wonder he hadn’t moved this whole time.

“This isn’t what I thought it was going to be,” Bob started, glaring over at the downed hunters. “I thought I was hunting werewolves.”

“And that makes this okay? Torturing people like this?” Stiles spat. He was getting really sick of people indiscriminately killing others due to preconceived notions. So much for the hunters being the good guys.

“You haven’t seen torture if you think this is it!” Bob hissed, clenching his fists at his side. This was the first sign of anger the man had shown since he got there and of course it was Stiles riling him up.

“So explain what this was then. I’m a hunter, so I know how some less conventional tactics are sometimes used. But to my knowledge, no one in this group has done anything to you to warrant such a specific attack. This feels a bit personal, in my professional opinion,” Chris said, sounding so damn diplomatic. This was the leader they all needed from the beginning.

“My coven was slaughtered by werewolves, unprovoked. All I’ve been able to think about since then is revenge,” Bob growled, staring at the ground. “I’d never had a problem with hunter’s before, because my group always stayed away from the dark magic, so when Rick approached me, it didn’t take much to convince me to help him.”

“And what exactly did Rick say?” Chris asked, glaring down at his former associate.

“He told me this pack had killed their former leader and multiple people in town. He said they were dangerous and out of control and it was my duty to help him stop them before it was too late. I didn’t ask questions.”

“You didn’t ask questions?” Stiles choked out, incredulously. “Someone approaches you and asks you to commit murder and you just go along with it? What the hell is the matter with you?”

“I didn’t kill anyone! I cast a spell to destabilize a dangerous group of people.”

“We’re dangerous? Us?” Stiles laughed, whirling around to gesture to everyone in the room. “Look around and tell me where the violence was coming from. Everything we did was done defensively, to stay alive. We weren’t bothering anyone, but you came into our home and attacked us. Tell me again who the monsters are.”

“He never told me there were humans here. Or that you guys were kids,” Bob sighed, running a hand down his face. “When I came in and saw you awake, when everyone should’ve been out, I knew I’d been lied to. And I wondered what else Rick fabricated.”

“If you thought we were innocent, why didn’t you do anything to stop what was happening?” Stiles snapped, not understanding how someone could stand by and watch a couple of kids fight against trained hunters. Sure, Allison was technically one of them, but Bob didn’t know that at the time.

“What was I supposed to do? I’m not a fighter. If they’d killed me, it would be the same as killing your friends,” Bob shot back, shaking his head.

“How noble of you. I’m sure you were thinking of us when you made that call,” Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I could’ve left. You never would’ve found me in time to save them,” Bob sneered.

“Enough!” Chris shouted, looking back and forth between the warring men. “What’s done is done and we can’t change that, but we can fix this spell before anyone gets hurt further. What do you need to do to lift this curse?”

“It’s actually pretty simple, but I don’t have all the ingredients I need. I’m going to have to go back to where I’m staying to get my supplies,” Bob sighed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! You think we trust you to leave and come back, after everything that’s gone down? And then trust you on top of that, that you’re actually fixing what you did instead of doing something worse?” Stiles shouted, completely forgetting about his own pain. This man was not leaving his sight until every werewolf in the room could play hopscotch without breaking a bone.

“I don’t think you really have a choice. I’m the only one who can do the spell and I’m the only one with the ingredients. And there is no way I’m telling you where I live.”

“I may have a solution.”

Chapter Text

Stiles didn’t really make it a habit of waiting around and hoping for rescue, but he could get used to people coming in to save the day. All the planning in the world couldn’t solve every problem, so when it didn’t, a wise veterinarian showing up in the nick of time was always welcome.

“Dr. Deaton!” Scott exclaimed, smiling in relief.

“Hello Scott, how are you all holding up?” Deaton asked, standing in the doorway of the loft.

“We’re okay right now, but it was a little tricky for a while,” Scott answered somberly.

“A little tricky? You weren’t even awake for most of it,” Stiles scoffed.

“And I consider being unconscious pretty tricky,” Scott shot back.

“Could we have this conversation another time, say when Isaac won’t kill himself by blinking too hard?” Derek snapped, forcing himself to stay still through sheer willpower.

“I’m sorry, which one of us had to be dressed by Stiles?” Isaac mocked, looking pointedly at his ruined sweater around Derek’s chest. “And I’m pretty sure I saved someone’s life. I think.”

“It was mine, thanks,” Allison said, shooting him an appreciative smile.

“Oh, yeah,” Isaac grumbled, cutting his eyes at her before looking away.

“What was that?” Chris asked, looking between Allison and Isaac. Boyd huffed out a breath, but didn’t say anything.

“I’d probably leave that alone for now,” Stiles suggested, turning his attention back to Deaton. “You said you had a solution?”

“Yes, I did,” Deaton concurred, stepping further into the room to stand near Bob. “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said the curse would be easy to break. The hardest part would be getting the person who cast it, but I see you’ve found him. Mister…?”

“Bob,” Stiles pointed out helpfully.

“Mr. Bob-”

“Just Bob,” he grumbled.

“Right. Well, luckily for everyone, I happened to have the ingredients needed for you to fix this little mess you created,” Deaton said, holding up his bag.

“What are you, a witch?” Bob asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“He’s a veterinarian,” Isaac called out, sending Deaton a little grin. What was that about?

“Then what do you know about spellwork?” Bob challenged, sizing Deaton up.

“Enough,” Deaton said simply, dragging his foot over the line of mountain ash to break the barrier.

“Hey!” Bob yelled, flicking his eyes up toward Derek. He was the only werewolf currently oozing danger.

“No need for the protection, since you’re only planning on helping at this point,” Deaton said, setting the items in his bag carefully on the floor. “Although the ash wouldn’t have done much to stop a bullet.”

“Or an arrow,” Allison sneered.

“Uh oh everyone, duck!” Stiles snorted, looking around to see if his joke landed.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Isaac hissed, glaring up at him. Apparently it landed worse than one of Allison’s arrows. “Is there any spell that can shut Stiles up?”

“I’ll remember that the next time you need something pulled out of your body,” Stiles laughed, making a stabbing motion toward him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only need some floss for when I’m picking bits of you out of my teeth!” Isaac growled.

“I wish that bullet really hit me,” Derek muttered, closing his eyes in annoyance.

“How long is this going to take?” Scott asked, his voice bordering on a whine. “I kind of have to use the bathroom.”

“Well, don’t accident yourself to death. I’m sure it won’t take too long,” Stiles chuckled, hoping that was true. He really had no idea, but the more he joked, the more distance he put between him and all that previous trauma.

“Not long at all,” Deaton affirmed, gesturing for Bob to step up to the components Deaton laid out. He still hadn’t left his broken circle.

“And keep in mind, Deaton will tell us if you try to do anything that isn’t fixing this mess you caused,” Stiles warned, knowing Derek would have no qualms showing the man just how little he appreciated this whole ordeal. If they knew outright killing him would solve this problem, he’d already be dead.

“How do I know you won’t just kill me as soon as I’m done?” Bob asked, directing his question to Stiles for some reason. Did he really give off that air of authority? Derek would enjoy that.

“My pack will stand down,” Stiles said firmly, pursing his lips together so he wouldn’t burst out laughing at Derek’s growl. He could just deal. So what if he was feeling a little petty after being shot down so harshly?

Bob carefully made his way over to Deaton, keeping his hands out at his sides the whole time. Stiles hoped he was scared, after he caused all this chaos. He understood the enticing pull of vengeance, but this was pushing it a little far. If they were following Rick’s rules, his pack would’ve killed all these hunters as soon as the option became available, even with them tied up and indisposed. Bob was lucky they weren’t who he thought they were.

“Is this going to hurt?” Scott asked, slowly shifting into a more comfortable position.

“You won’t feel anything at all,” Deaton assured him, stepping back to supervise Bob with a critical eye. Stiles saw how the vet basically exuded chill at all times, but he knew something fierce was simmering under the surface. You didn’t hang with wolves if you had no fight in you.

Bob started moving things around, chanting something quietly under his breath. Everyone’s attention was on the man, but Stiles watched the werewolves. If there was even a hint of discomfort on any of their faces, he was going to call it out. Scott and Isaac looked nervous, but excited. Boyd looked calm, but kept cutting his eyes over to Allison every so often. He didn’t know how cognizant the teen had been during Allison’s last stand between them and a bullet, but that wasn’t his relationship to figure out. They could do it somewhere else, hopefully a place without arrows.

Derek was looking as emotionally constipated as ever. Why was the only feeling he could show anger? How had Stiles fallen so hard for him? Sure, Stiles was usually pretty good at seeing the real person under the facade they put up, hence that long crush on Lydia. The Lydia everyone else saw was pretty shallow and not the kind of person Stiles would normally go for, but Stiles noticed all the things she tried so hard to hide. And he’d done the same with Derek. Stiles saw the man aching for connection and he wanted to give him that and more. But of course it didn’t work out, as per usual for Stiles. One day he would learn his lesson and try for someone in his own league.

Stiles caught Derek’s eye briefly, before the other man looked away. He could’ve sworn he saw a bit of regret in his gaze, but he brushed the idea away. This day had been too stressful to try to overanalyze every twitch and blink. And after everything, he was going to need a long break from werewolf stuff.

“It’s finished,” Deaton announced, stepping back with a nod.

“What? Really? That’s it?” Stiles asked, looking around for some obvious signal to show it was over. “That was kind of anticlimactic.”

“Well, they didn’t feel the spell being cast either,” Deaton pointed out, ducking down to gather his materials as soon as Bob stepped back. “It stands to reason they wouldn’t feel anything now as well.”

“How do we know it worked?” Scott asked, staring down at his hands as he opened and closed them like a baby who’d just discovered their fingers.

“I guess we need to test it,” Stiles shrugged, turning to face his possibly former crush. “Hey Derek, do something stupid.” If Derek could do a jumping jack or something and survive, there was a good chance they were safe again. And who better to test things out than the Alpha? Stiles was not expecting the man to surge forward and pull him into a kiss. Stiles couldn’t even react before it was over, leaving his mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“I don’t think that’s what he meant,” Scott stuttered, looking on in shock.

“Well, Stiles did say something stupid,” Isaac snorted.

“What was that?” Stiles murmured, touching his lips in awe.

“What was what?” Derek grunted, crossing his arms petulantly.

“You- with the- and then-” Stiles stammered, fluttering his hands between their faces.

“Must’ve been the blood loss,” Derek grumbled, pushing him aside to go confront Bob. God, he was so immature, but it brought back the crush in full force. Derek had actually kissed him. What did it all mean? He needed to talk this to death with someone ASAP.

“Derek,” Deaton said in warning, standing back as the werewolf stalked his prey now that he was able.

“You come in here and try to hurt my pack?” Derek growled, fully shifting now that the wolfsbane was out of his system. Bob was visibly shaking, looking around the room for someone to help him. Stiles hoped Bob would remember this feeling for the rest of his life. The fear of being completely out of control and not knowing whether you were going to live or die. He’d done that to all of them.

“I’m sorry,” Bob whispered, hunching his shoulders as he braced himself.

“Never set foot in my town again. If I catch even the idea of you here, this mercy I’m showing you goes away and I become that monster you thought we were. Do you understand?” Derek snapped, barely holding himself back from just ending the threat for good.

“Yes,” Bob squeaked, backing up until he made it to the doorway and then running off, the slapping of his shoes against the hard floor the last they heard of him.

“What do we do about them?” Scott asked, pointing at the three hunters laying around the room.

“You can leave them to me. We have our own ways of dealing with things like this,” Chris answered ominously, pulling more tape out of his pocket. “Help me get them ready for transport.” Allison moved to start taping the men up from head to toe, not leaving any room for movement. Stiles hoped they woke up itchy.

“I’ll help you carry them down,” Derek offered, walking over to the first secured man and roughly hoisting him over his shoulder.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Scott announced, dashing off in that direction. Boyd slowly stood up, backing away to watch everything from afar. Stiles wouldn’t begrudge him his need to take some time. Isaac wasn’t where Stiles had last seen him and he almost shouted in surprise when he turned and found the teen standing awkwardly close to him with a towel clutched between his fingers. When and where had he gotten that?

“What are you doing?” Stiles croaked, trying to cover his startle with gruffness.

“You’re bleeding,” Isaac said, gesturing to Stiles’ shoulder with the towel. Stiles had almost forgotten about the graze in all this chaos, but now that he was reminded of the wound he felt it again in full force. Thanks Isaac.

“And?” Stiles grumbled, snatching the towel and pressing it against his arm. He hissed at the contact, but kept the pressure. He was not looking forward to having to explain this to his dad.

“I was just trying to help. To return the favor for what you did earlier,” Isaac sighed, biting his lip as he waved his hands at the various body parts he had things stabbed into.

“Well, don’t. You being nice to me makes me very uncomfortable. Makes me feel like I might be dying,” Stiles snorted, sending a smirk up at the taller teen.

“Whatever,” Isaac grunted, stomping over and grabbing the cocooned hunter from Derek. “Why don’t I take this guy while you go deal with your boyfriend?”

“He’s not-”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” Isaac snickered, cutting off Derek’s protests. Isaac sauntered out of the room behind Chris, grinning like he’d just gotten one over on everyone. “And don’t touch anymore of my clothes!”

“I should’ve left that fork in him!” Stiles hissed, staring at the floor to avoid looking at anyone. If only he’d kept his stupid mouth shut and made sure Derek was dying before making that love confession. Now everything was weird and possibly ruined and he didn’t know what to do. Derek would probably kill him just to avoid dealing with the fallout.

“Stiles,” Derek sighed, walking over to stand in front of him, “we need to talk.”

Chapter Text

After Isaac helped Chris load up the three men, he took off to exact some hunter justice. Stiles didn’t ask what all that entailed and he didn’t really want to know. As long as the men didn’t come back, he didn’t really care what happened to them. Allison left with her dad, since he wanted to keep her close after everything, but he saw her and Boyd exchange some significant looks before she walked out the door. There wasn’t as much of the uncontrollable rage in Boyd’s eyes, but the distrust was still there. Stiles was staying out of it. Deaton disappeared, telling Scott to call him if he needed any time off from work.

Scott helped Stiles bandage his arm while Derek dumped bleach everywhere, muttering about how he’d never get the smell of blood out of his loft after this. He was probably right, because there was a lot of it. The only one who hadn’t bled during this whole ordeal was Allison, which was typical. She spilt other people’s blood, not her own. Lydia hadn’t bled either, as far as he knew, but she wasn’t around for the fighting, so she didn’t count.

They were all sitting around now after getting cleaned up, listening to Stiles recount the whole tale, since he was the only one awake for it all. He explained who the hunters were, since Boyd hadn’t been around for the Isaac in jail drama. Said teen looked annoyed when he found out about the face kick, but perked up when Stiles mentioned the junk stab.

“What do you think I hit?” Isaac asked with a grin, wagging his eyebrows. Scott cringed, curling up a bit as he thought about that particular kind of pain.

“Does it really matter?” Lydia sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Oh yeah, it matters,” Scott muttered, looking down at his own lap.

“I didn’t really inspect the wound or stop to ask, but it was enough to make him miss his shot,” Stiles snorted, leaning back into the corner of the couch. His adrenaline had all but left him at this point and he wanted to go home and sleep for a few days, but he couldn’t go home yet with his dad off work. Scott’s mom was home too, so that option was out. He just had to hold out here for a little while longer until one of the houses was clear, then he could get away from Derek. The grumpy wolf was currently leaning against a pillar like he didn’t care what had gone on, but Stiles caught him looking over all of them every so often, as if to make sure they were okay.

“Okay, then continue on with how I saved the day,” Isaac prodded.

“That was pretty much your last hurrah. After that you all were basically in the way and or sitting ducks,” Stiles said, smirking at Isaac’s grunt. He finished telling them about waking Derek up, going into great detail about punching him in the face. Then getting the upper hand before the third hunter came back and shot them. Stiles focused on Allison’s last stand, completely ignoring his pathetic declaration to Derek.

“I’m sorry I missed all the action,” Lydia said, standing up and stretching. “Next time, maybe don’t call me. It’s getting kind of annoying being the solution to all your problems.”

“But you’re just so good at it,” Stiles argued, knowing Lydia would always come through for them if they needed her. She was just that good.

“While that’s true, I am insisting on taking the rest of the day off, so try not to have anymore life threatening emergencies for a while. I need to finish my shopping,” Lydia declared, walking toward the door.

“Wait, take us with you!” Isaac called out, bouncing to his feet and pulling Scott and Boyd up with him.

“You want me to take you shopping? I’m not dropping each of you at your houses. I’m not a taxi service,” Lydia scoffed.

“I thought you lived here?” Scott asked, looking at Isaac in confusion.

“Someone owes me a new sweater,” Isaac grinned, sliding up to Derek with his hand out. Derek begrudgingly slapped a couple bills into his palm, glaring at the pile of fabric he’d discarded in a sad pile earlier.

“But why does that mean Boyd and I have to leave?” Scott questioned, resisting Isaac pushing him toward the door.

“Because I have a feeling a conversation needs to be had and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t need an audience. Especially if it goes the way Stiles would like,” Isaac cackled, throwing his arm around Boyd’s shoulders.

“You’re such a dick!” Stiles hissed.

“You’ll thank me later,” Isaac teased, sending him a little wink.

“What’s going on?” Lydia asked, looking slightly intrigued.

“We’ll tell you in the car,” Isaac laughed, ushering them all out the door. He turned to give them a thumbs up before closing the loft door, trapping Stiles with the last person he wanted to be around right now.

“I hate Isaac,” Stiles moaned, covering his face with his hand. Maybe if he just stayed like this for long enough, Derek would get bored and disappear. But when he peeked through his fingers a few seconds later, Derek had moved and was standing right in front of him. “Don’t do that! My heart can’t take much more today.”

“We need to talk,” Derek said, crossing his arms.

“No, we really don’t,” Stiles argued, resisting the urge to mirror Derek’s stance and pull on his wound. Damn human healing.

“We do,” Derek insisted, heaving a disgruntled sigh.

“That’s funny, because when I was talking earlier, you made fun of me. I don’t really need a repeat of that, you made your feelings known loud and clear.”

“But then I kissed you.”

“Which you attributed to blood loss.”

“Stiles-”

“I get it, okay? You don’t like me back and that’s fine. I just wish you’d let me down a little easier, that’s all. And maybe not in front of everyone. But I’m used to humiliation, so I’ll get over it eventu-” Stiles’ words were cut off by Derek pressing his lips to his. Stiles was caught off guard again, but this time he at least had the wherewithal to move his mouth a little before they broke apart. He didn’t know if it was any good, with his lack of experience, but he had no complaints on his end.

“Finally, a way to shut you up,” Derek snorted, hovering a few inches in front of Stiles.

“See, you kiss me, then you say something that makes me think you’re an asshole. How am I supposed to-” And again with the kissing. Stiles was ready for it though, and he put his hand on the back of Derek’s head, holding him close to really make this one count. There was a little bit of tongue, a flash of teeth, and the surprisingly pleasant scratch of stubble. All those things mixed together made Stiles tingle from the top of his head down to his toes. His crush was back in full effect, multiplied by a billion now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated. When the kiss finally ended, they took a moment to catch their breath with their foreheads pressed together.

“I’m not very good with words,” Derek murmured, licking his lips.

“Actions are good. They are better actually. These actions are great,” Stiles babbled, praying this wasn’t some trauma induced dream. If he was actually lying on the floor unconscious right now, he was going to be pissed. “I kind of thought you hated me.”

“I probably should,” Derek said, shaking his head. “All the annoying things you do. But the fact that I haven’t killed you yet must mean something.”

“Wow, so romantic. I bet Hallmark is beating down your door,” Stiles sighed, rolling his eyes. “Nobody is that bad with-” Another kiss.

“I was just saying that-” Kiss.

“You can’t always-”

“Shut me up like that-”

“In every situation!”

“I can try,” Derek chuckled, giving him another kiss for good measure. Stiles wasn’t going to complain about his methods. Well, he would, but only to get Derek to keep his word. It was crazy to think that the day had started with none of them knowing if they’d come out of this alive and it ended with Derek kissing him and admitting he might not hate him. Stiles would never say he was glad they’d been cursed and attacked, but it wasn’t really the worst thing either. Next time he had something to say, he shouldn’t wait until they were about to be snuffed out to say it.

“So what happens now?” Stiles asked, staring into those mesmerizing green eyes. He’d been worried about explaining a gunshot to his father, how the hell was he supposed to explain Derek?

“I don’t know,” Derek replied, moving over to sit next to Stiles on the couch. “Just kind of hang out and see where this goes?”

“I should’ve expected that,” Stiles scoffed, shifting over so Derek could wrap his arm around him. “I do know one thing though.”

“What’s that?”

“I will not be thanking Isaac later.”