“I think that’s the last of it,” Stiles threw himself on Derek’s newly-acquired couch. “Who knew you had so much stuff?”
Derek scoffed, “You made me buy all this stuff, Stiles.” The pair had spent the better part of the day moving Derek into his new apartment. It was sparse, but comfortable. Stiles had insisted on making all the final furniture decisions, arguing that “he just had an eye for these things,” and if he’d left it up to Derek, he’d have been “forced to sleep on an air mattress and watch tv on a cardboard box” every time he stayed over. So, with Stiles’s help, Derek had chosen a leather couch that could easily accommodate pack meetings, a bed that had an actual headboard (and was big enough for the two of them, of course), and a set of dishes to fill his kitchen cabinets that featured zero flowers, but were also not made of paper. (Stiles had argued quite convincingly for the frilly set for about twenty minutes before giving up the charade.) Derek settled down next to Stiles and looked around; yes, he thought, this could feel like home, especially with Stiles lying next to him.
“Stiles,” the werewolf whispered, “I like it.”
Stiles kept his eyes closed as he said, “It’s okay to like things, Der, you don’t have to whisper.”
He opened one eye and smirked at Derek. Derek just sighed contentedly, “It feels like home.”
That was more than Stiles could handle. He pulled Derek on top of him and forcibly kissed him, relishing the feeling of Derek’s body on top of his. Derek wasted no time in reciprocating the kiss, slipping his hands under Stiles’s shirt before Stiles could even register what was happening. Stiles moaned into Derek’s mouth as he traced up Stiles’s stomach and rested his hands on the boy’s chest. Derek dipped down to suck lightly on Stiles’s collarbone, loving the way his pulse sped up beneath his fingers.
“Should he we christen the couch?” Stiles whispered hoarsely and Derek almost lost it. He growled and moved back up to claim Stiles’s lips in a wet, needy kiss. He pushed Stiles further into the leather and Stiles retaliated by grinding his hips up into Derek’s. Derek groaned, dropping his head onto Stiles’s shoulder. “Not fair,” he huffed.
“You’ve got size on your side,” Stiles chirped, “I’ve got to use what God gave me.”
“Sass and an impossible ability to metabolize junk food?”
“Fuck you,” and in a feat of unparalleled strength...or luck…Stiles flipped Derek so he squirmed under the younger boy’s weight.
“Actually this is totally working for me,” Derek breathed.
Stiles glanced downward to where he straddled the wolf and wiggled his hips evilly, “Yeah I can tell.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” Derek whined.
Stiles eagerly obliged; he attacked Derek’s mouth, nibbling lightly on his bottom lip until Derek granted him entrance. Their tongues battled for dominance until Stiles ground his hips again and Derek submitted with a whine.
“Stiles,” Derek whispered breathlessly, “please…”
Stiles chuckled, who was the big bad wolf now? He ran his hands slowly down Derek’s sides, smirking when he squirmed impatiently at the pace. He trailed down Derek’s stomach, tracing the thin line of hair leading beneath his waistband. Derek moaned when he felt the button on his jeans release, heard the zipper slowly being drawn down. Stiles hooked his fingers into Derek’s waistband, still moving tantalizingly slowly.
“Stiles,” he whined again.
He placed a kiss on the skin below Derek’s belly button but above his waistband, licked the same spot, and then quickly blew on the slick skin.
Derek’s head rolled back into the couch and he let out a moan. Stiles thought he’d had enough, although he loved seeing Derek like this, all sprawled out and vulnerable. He drew the Beta’s pants down, and was moving back up to tackle his boxers when-
Derek groaned, “You have got to be kidding me.”
“I may have invited the pack over for a housewarming party…”
“Stiles, come on,” but Stiles was already getting up, “please babe, don’t get it.”
Stiles whirled around, “Babe?”
Derek just shrugged as a grin spread across his face. In two seconds flat Stiles was back on top of him. “Fuck, Derek, that was so fucking hot,” he said through the kiss. His hands knotted in Derek’s hair as the doorbell rang again, but neither human nor werewolf made any move to answer it.
A series of knocks interrupted their moans. “Derek? Stiles? I know you’re in there! I can smell you!” Scott’s voice was muffled but persistent through the front door, “Ugh, and I can hear you too - they’re making out. Come on guys, let us in!”
“I have to, I have to,” Stiles laughed and ignored Derek’s protests as he padded to the front door.
“Welcome!” Stiles said grandly as he flung open the front door. The pack took in his flushed skin and disheveled clothes.
“Dude, you’re ridiculous,” Scott pushed past him, “You invited us over.”
Isaac followed and whispered to Stiles, “You’re a fucking rock star, man,” as he passed.
Allison hugged Stiles, giggling, “Thanks for having us over Stiles.”
The group traipsed into the living room where Derek was sitting casually on the couch. Not only had he managed to don his pants, but he showed absolutely no signs of having been pinned to said couch only moments before. That bastard, Stiles thought.
“Hi guys,” Derek greeted them, “So Stiles may have neglected to mention you were coming over.”
“You just moved into a new place!” Stiles protested, “Of course we were going to have people over! Besides, it’s the first full moon since you came back, it only makes sense we’re all together.”
“Awwww,” Allison and Isaac said together and Scott just sat down next to Derek. “So what movie are we watching?”
They settled in to watch some stupid horror film. Derek sat on the couch with his arm draped over Stiles’s shoulder; Scott was on the other side of Stiles. Isaac and Allison sat on pillows on the floor beneath them. Over the course of the movie Allison had slowly drifted into Isaac’s lap, a progression that had not escaped Scott or Stiles’s notice.
A particularly gory scene elicited a shriek from Allison and an “ew, gross” from Stiles as he eagerly leaned towards the screen. Derek chuckled at the boy’s enthusiasm and fiddled with the hair at the nape of Stiles’s neck. Isaac pulled Allison closer to him and whispered something as he kissed her temple. Scott got up from the couch and stalked to the kitchen, muttering about needing more popcorn.
Stiles glanced at Derek, who gave him a look like, ‘it’s your funeral.’ Stiles sighed and rose to follow his best friend; Allison and Isaac were oblivious and Derek obviously wasn’t going to do anything about the situation. Captain Talks-a-Lot, to the rescue, Stiles thought to himself.
He found Scott leaning over the sink, hands braced on the counter, breathing heavily. “Scott,” Stiles put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and was surprised when he shrugged it off, “Come on man, come back and watch the movie with us.” He got no answer. “Do you want me to tell them to cool it? Because I can. And Derek and I can too. I’m sorry, Scott, I didn’t think this would be weird for you.”
“It’s not that,” Scott said icily. Suddenly all the heat seemed to leave the room and Stiles had to stifle a shudder. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe it’s the full moon, or maybe the darkness Deaton told us about.”
“Maybe it’s both?” Stiles ventured gently.
“Y-yeah, maybe,” Scott turned to him and Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’ve just felt so off lately…”
“What do you mean?” Stiles sat on the kitchen counter, brow crinkled in concern.
“Like, I know Isaac and Allison are trying really hard to be cool about this whole thing. And most days it’s fine, it doesn’t bother me. But seeing them together, now, I just want to rip someone’s head off. Not theirs necessarily, just anyone. Seeing you and Derek tonight I got the same feeling.” He looked up, “Stiles, I’m scared. What’s wrong with me?”
“Maybe you’re just lonely, Scott,” although Stiles had a creeping sensation of dread he couldn’t shake.
Scott shook his head, “That’s what I thought at first, but it’s, like, ten times worse at the full moon.”
Stiles started, “Scott, how long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know… maybe since Derek left? At first I thought I was just angry at him, or maybe it was just this whole Alpha thing…”
“Well maybe that’s it!” Stiles jumped down, “No, I’m sure that’s it. Come on buddy, I’ll make you a bag of extra buttery popcorn and we’ll put in Superbad or something, because this horror shit is giving me the creeps.”
Stiles sent Scott back into the living room with his popcorn and instructions to change the movie and (not so subtly) motioned for Derek to join him in the kitchen. The werewolf complied, confusion clouding his face.
“What was that all about?” he touched Stiles’s arm, but Stiles was too worked up to appreciate the gesture.
“I don’t know, Derek, but I am freaking the fuck out,” he paced, trying to keep his voice down, “There’s something seriously wrong with Scott. Like, I’m afraid he’s going to hurt someone, or himself, or-”
“Okay, Stiles, calm down,” Derek put his hands on Stiles’s shoulders and steadied the younger boy, “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know, it was the way he was talking. He said he wanted to rip someone’s head off every time he sees Isaac and Allison together.”
“Well that just sounds like he’s jealous,” Derek reasoned.
Stiles shook his head, “He said it happened when he saw us together too, and that it’s worse on the full moon. Is it possible this is an Alpha thing? Like he’s having trouble with control because he’s a new Alpha?”
Derek’s brow furrowed, “It’s possible. But for me, and I think for most Alphas, the added power gives you more control, not less.”
Derek peeked around the doorway into the living room. The lights were on, movie playing cheerfully, and Scott was sandwiched on the couch between Allison and Isaac, all three of them sharing the bowl of popcorn and laughing heartily.
“Everything seems okay to me,” he beckoned Stiles, “Look.”
Stiles stood next to him and nodded; they did look okay. He still trembled slightly and Derek drew a chair over and forced him to sit. He went to the sink and poured Stiles a glass of water, handing it to him wordlessly.
Stiles took a sip and drew a shaky breath, “You weren’t here, Derek. It was like he sucked all the life out of the room. I felt cold when he spoke. What could make that happen?”
“I don’t know,” Derek ran his hand through Stiles’s hair and the boy leaned into him so his head was resting against Derek’s ribs. “Is it possible you’re just stressed about everything that’s happened in the last few months? You almost lost your dad, then you lost me; maybe you’re just scared of losing Scott too?”
Stiles chuckled and drained the glass, “Very perceptive Dr. Hale. Since when could you read me so well?”
Stiles’s tone was cheerful, but Derek could see the fear in his eyes when he drew him up to his level. “I’m a fast learner,” Derek whispered before he pressed a kiss to Stiles’s temple.
“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him,” Stiles whispered.
“You’ll never have to find out, I promise,” Derek kissed Stiles and there was so much behind it, all the things that Derek couldn’t quite say. Derek’s lips on his said he’d never let Stiles get hurt. Derek’s hand on the small of his back said he’d always be there. Derek’s fingers clinging to his hair said Stiles meant the world to Derek. Derek’s moan said Stiles was all he had in the world, and that he was enough. He was everything.
Derek backed Stiles into the wall and suddenly the kiss wasn’t tender; their actions became more desperate, chests pressed together, breath coming in pants, hands touching every part of each other they could reach. The moon shone through the window of the darkened kitchen and Stiles felt a growl rumble in Derek’s chest. Mine, it said. Derek pressed him harder against the wall and Stiles had to suppress a moan, remembering faintly that his friends were in the other room. All coherent thought flooded from his brain, though, when Derek pressed a leg up between his thighs. Stiles let out an uninhibited groan when he felt Derek’s teeth graze against his neck; he threw his head back against the wall, the picture of submission.
“Everything okay in there?” a voice called from the other room. Stiles barely registered muffled laughter.
Derek’s grip tightened around Stiles’s frame but his eyes snapped open when he felt claws digging into his flesh.
“Derek,” he panted, “Stop. Derek, you’re hurting me-”
In a flash Derek’s body was gone, replaced by the snarling form of a transformed Scott. Derek flew into the opposite wall; Scott had positioned himself between Stiles and Derek.
“Scott! SCOTT! I’m fine!” Stiles screamed at his friend.
Scott seemed not to hear him, though; the moment Derek’s eyes flashed blue the Alpha was on him. Stiles watched in horror as Scott’s claws tore into Derek, slicing down his torso and across his face.
“Scott, NO!” Stiles rushed forward and inserted himself between the two wolves. He saw the fury in Scott’s red eyes and he barely had time to think, oh shit, he’s not going to stop.
The warmth registered before the pain did. Stiles stumbled back with the force of the blow, landing on top of Derek. As soon as he made contact, Scott seemed to snap out of it, shifting back to his human form. Shock was etched across his features, but Stiles still didn’t understand what was so warm across his chest.
He looked down, pressed a hand to his chest, and drew it away. The brightness of the red seemed wrong. Real blood wasn’t that red, was it?
Too late, Allison and Isaac rushed into the room and tried to restrain Scott.
Stiles felt something warm land on his face and he thought, more blood? But it was Derek; he was crying.
Derek cradled Stiles in his arms, “Stiles, oh my god, Stiles.”
Scott stood in horror looking at what he’d done. “Stiles,” he made to move forward, but Isaac held him back.
“STAY AWAY FROM HIM!” Derek bellowed. Scott shrank back, and Derek yelled, “Allison, call an ambulance!” She left the room and Isaac physically dragged Scott out behind her.
“Stiles,” Derek called, “Stiles, can you hear me?! Please say something. Oh God, don’t leave me, not you too.”
“Derek,” Stiles rasped, tears rolling down his cheeks, “Derek, it hurts to breathe.”
“Just hang on, Allison’s calling for help. Oh God, baby, please stay with me.”
Stiles hummed, eyes drooping shut, “I liked it better when you called me 'babe'…”
Derek smiled absurdly, “Okay, babe it is.”
“Der…” his voice was barely a whisper, “It’s not his fault…please don’t…please don’t hate him… He needs you…”
“I need you,” Derek sobbed, “Stiles please, fight, fight for me babe. Fight for us.”
“Lis...listen to me,” Stiles took a raspy breath, “There’s some...thing...s-something...wrong with him. He’s...s-s-sick…”
“Stiles? Stiles?!” The world got fuzzy until it all faded to black.