1I wrote this for the Sterek Secret Santa project on Tumblr.
With a cry of triumph Stiles managed to snatch the fairy out of the air. This fairy had been raising hell for a week and a half. It gave Scott blue hair, it turned all of Derek's leather jackets pink, it replaced all of the healthy food Stiles gave his dad with junk food and worst of all it had made his beloved Jeep start levitating. "You know," he mused aloud to the struggling creature, "For such a tiny thing you're kind of a huge pain in the ass." He gave a yelp of surprise as the fairy bit down, hard, on his hand forcing him to release it. Within moments the fairy was well out of his reach and emitting a strange humming noise.
"What the hell is that?" Stiles yelled up to it. "Is that the sound of you giving up and leaving Beacon Hills? Because it better be! If it's not I'm going to–" The air seemed to shimmer around Stiles and he stopped mid threat to gape as at least 50 more winged terrors appeared out of thin air. He cursed under his breath as he turned and started running. He called over his shoulder as he went, "Calling for back-up is cheating!"
Running through woods was a lot harder than his werewolf friends made it look. Stiles had no idea how exactly they managed to not constantly trip on twigs and slide in leaves slick with mud. He had only made it a few hundred feet when his foot caught on a particularly tall root and he went careening into a tree trunk. He grabbed the rough bark to steady himself – feeling it bite into his palms and tear away skin – and shoved off again. The low hum of the fairies was a lot closer to him now and he panicked. There had to be something that he could use as a weapon. Why couldn't he have claws like everyone else? Why had he gone after dangerous magical creatures without some slightly more dangerous companions to back him up?
He knew why. He had wanted to prove to Derek that he was a capable pack member. Derek who had told him just the day before to stay out of pack business so he didn't get hurt. Stiles glanced at the torn up skin on his hands and thought, Failed at that. Oops. It was only after he felt himself slipping again that he decided, Maybe looking at my hands as I run through the woods isn't the best way to stay upright. He caught himself on a low hanging branch and then stumbled again when it snapped under his weight.
Stiles stood still for a moment, flabbergasted at the audacity of the branch. How dare it not come to his aid when he wanted it to? Stupid inanimate object. The sound of wings near his ear snapped him out of his thoughts and, without consciously deciding to do so, he hefted the branch up and swung it with all his strength. It connected with a bright blue fairy sending the creature flying into a tree.
"Yes! Score one for the human! Take that you stupid blue son of a bi–" Stiles gasped in pain when the angry fairy propelled itself away from the tree and straight into Stiles' side. He could actually feel the cracks spreading along the bones of his ribcage and he'd have sworn at least one rib had completely snapped. He staggered back a step trying to regain the breath that had been driven out of him. Spikes of pain radiated on his chest as his lungs expanded and Stiles had to blink away the haze of pain that clouded his vision.
Looking around he spotted more fairies closing in and he bit back a cry as the blue one latched onto him with claw-like fingers and clamped a mouth full of razor sharp teeth into his shoulder. He dropped the branch – clearly it hadn't really hurt the fairy so what good was it? – and started moving again. A lot slower now that each drag of breath stung and each step jostled his aching chest. He used his free arm to try dislodging the fairy but it clung on so stubbornly that Stiles gave up and just wrapped his arm around his ribs to try and keep them from moving painfully.
Another fairy grabbed onto him from behind and tore fine lines down his back with its fingers. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep down the sound trying to erupt from his throat. This whole plan was going downhill fast. Stiles had no idea what he had been thinking when he came out here but he wished he could punch past Stiles in the face. At this point he'd just be glad to make it home. A third fairy flew in from the left aiming for his head – teeth glinting in a dangerous grin – but it never made it to Stiles.
Claws shredded the tiny creature and Stiles almost sank to the ground in relief when he heard Derek's growl. Instead he leaned heavily against a tree and just watched as Derek took down the entire swarm of fairies. Even the one that had been latched so firmly to Stiles flew into the fray and got pulverized by the werewolf's sharp nails.
Stiles felt the slow trickle of blood down his shoulder and back where he'd taken damage from pointed teeth and fingers. Who knew fairies were so sharp. And dangerous. Weren't they supposed to be light and carefree? Sharp really didn't fit their image at all.
Derek, on the other hand, fit quite nicely with the image of sharp and dangerous. Also, with rage, anger, death threats and glowing eyes. Those eyes were no less threatening now that they had returned to blue than they had been at their deepest red.
Those electric blue eyes were trained on Stiles now and they were burning with more emotion than Stiles had ever seen Derek express. There was worry and fear but above it all was a powerful anger. For once in his life Stiles found himself speechless under the pressure of the fury directed towards him.
"What the hell were you thinking, Stiles!" He thundered.
It seemed for a moment that in his anger Derek would shove Stiles against the tree – just like old times –but he stopped himself when Stiles flinched away from him with a hiss of pain. A flash of concern darted across his eyes obscuring the rage briefly.
"I just wanted to get them to stop messing with us." Stiles replied meekly as he shrank against the tree.
"You should have asked for help! You could have gotten yourself killed! If I had been just a few minutes later I would have found your corpse instead of you." On the last part Derek's voice got quiet and he looked as if even the thought of that outcome was too much to bear. "If I hadn't been out patrolling my territory you would be dead, Stiles. Do you not get that?"
"Well hey, one less person for you to have to protect when the pack gets in fights." Stiles joked, trying to infuse some levity into the heavy situation. He regretted it the second Derek's eyes flashed and a growl tore from his lips.
He regretted it more when Derek grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "This isn't a joke, Stiles. Stop trying so hard to throw your life away!"
"Ow! Derek, what the hell! Injured man here!"
"You'll live." Derek ground out through gritted teeth but he let Stiles go anyway. "It's just some broken ribs."
"Yeah. Some broken ribs. On a human. It's a bit worse for me than it is for you. Manhandling me is not really on the list of things you should do to a human with broken ribs."
With one last frustrated sigh, the last of Derek's anger melted away. "Stiles, I know that I'm never going to be able to convince you not to stand with the pack. Whether I like it or not you seem determined to put yourself right in the middle of fights that could get you killed. All I'm asking is that you start using that brain of yours to realize that you can't try to take on these fights alone. You have pack for a reason. Don't get yourself killed because you're too stubborn and prideful to ask us for help."
"I just wanted to prove that I'm useful to you guys." Stiles mumbled. It sounded so stupid now. Especially considering how the plan had turned out. All he'd done was prove once again that the weak human couldn't hold his own against anything. Not even a six inch tall fairy.
Derek just looked confused. "Useful? Stiles, when are you not useful? You're the one who figures out how to take down half the things we fight. Those Kappas last year would have decimated Beacon Hills if you hadn't figured out how to stop them. Without your quick thinking when we fought the rogue two months ago, Isaac would have been killed. You are useful to the pack. You don't have to be a fighter to prove that. Just keep being yourself. That's all we've ever wanted. We'd much rather have you alive to help us with the brain work than have you end up dead because you were trying to prove a point. We want you alive, Stiles. I want you alive."
Something warm fluttered in Stiles' chest, distracting momentarily from the dull throbbing of his ribs. "You really don't mind that I can't fight?"
"You're perfect exactly as you are, Stiles." Derek responded automatically. It became clear he hadn't really planned to say it when his cheeks turned red and he looked away from Stiles nervously. "I just meant… Well you're… The thing is…" Derek stuttered over words as Stiles stared at him with wide eyes.
He would never have guessed that Derek Hale could get so embarrassed about something. More importantly about calling Stiles perfect. Really the word perfect was what kept ringing in his head. Sure there was some amusement about Derek's evident discomfort with the situation, and of course there was a bubble of happiness as he watched Derek get flustered over him, but mostly there was just the word, "perfect".
Derek thought Stiles was perfect.
Obviously Stiles had long thought Derek was perfect – he's actually pretty certain everyone thinks Derek's perfect – but the fact that it was a shared sentiment was stunning. Stiles' brain raced to try and figure out what exactly this news meant. Did Derek like him back? Did Derek just mean that he was perfect in general but not in a romantic way? Perhaps he had only meant that Stiles was perfect at coming up with solutions against the latest supernatural threats.
The longer he pondered the more he became certain that Derek actually, against all odds, liked him back. All the blushing and stammering didn't happen when all you said was that your friend was good at planning attacks.
He had just almost died, been rescued then yelled at by Derek, and then he'd been told he was perfect. He was having a weird day. With his usual lack of regard for his own life, Stiles stepped into the personal space of a werewolf who had threatened on multiple occasions to kill him. If he was wrong about what Derek had meant then he was really going to regret it. Half of him tensed for the drag of claws across his skin or the strength of a werewolf shoving him away. The other half just quietly hoped that this would end how he wanted it to.
Derek had stopped rambling the instant Stiles had moved. Now he was just staring at the boy who was suddenly so much closer to him than usual. Stiles stared right back and slowly he lifted his hand up to wrap around the back of the werewolf's neck. Derek's eyes widened but he did nothing to stop Stiles as he pulled the older man's lips to his own.
Derek didn't react at all for a few moments. He froze completely and Stiles was starting to wonder how long he had left to live before the werewolf tore his throat out. Then Derek's eyes slid closed and he angled his head a little as he deepened the kiss. Stiles smiled into his lips and brought his other hand up to tangle into Derek's hair as the older man's arms wrapped around him. Stiles hadn't ever been kissed by anyone the way Derek was kissing him now. Somehow without words Stiles could feel the intensity of Derek's feelings. Even the way Derek was holding him made Stiles feel like he was the most precious person in the world to him.
It wasn't until Derek's arms tightened a fraction that Stiles even remembered his injuries. He let out a small squeak of pain as the movement squeezed bruises and scrapes he hadn't even known he had.
Derek let go instantly with worry in his eyes but Stile waved off the concern. He opted instead to exclaim, "Yes! I knew you liked me back! I don't need any of your fancy werewolf senses to tell when someone likes me. Granted it took me awhile to catch on and really it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't almost died but still–"
The soft brush of lips against his own silenced him. If Derek's new method of shutting Stiles up involved kissing him then he was surprisingly okay with it happening. A lot. Seriously, Derek could kiss him all the freaking time. He would gladly never speak another word if it meant Derek would keep kissing him.
The moment he pulled away, Derek leaned his forehead against Stiles' as he said, "We need to get you to a hospital."
"Thought you said that I'd live." Stiles responded with a smirk. "In fact I distinctly remember those words coming out of your mouth. Rather angrily too."
"Doesn't mean you don't need medical attention." Derek replied. Then without another word he grabbed Stiles' hand in his own and started walking back towards town.
It took them twice as long to get to the hospital as it should have but that may have had to do with the fact that Stiles kept stopping and refusing to move again until he got a kiss. Really it would have taken even longer if Derek hadn't given up the third time and just picked Stiles up in his arms. Neither one was complaining though. Stiles leaned his head contentedly against Derek's shoulder and snuggled into his warmth. Derek just smiled and gently kissed him whenever he made any noise that sounded even slightly like pain.
"And then I smacked the fairy with a branch and he went flying but he also got really pissed off so I had to run some more and…" The pack sat around the Hale house in various stages of curiosity as Stiles told them all about his encounter with the fairies. Well, most of the story. He may have left out any part that had to do with what had happened with Derek afterward. Not that Derek seemed to mind. They both were pretty content with not broadcasting their personal lives to the world. "So that's the story. Anyone have any questions?" Stiles finished off with a flourish of his arms.
"Yeah." Scott responded. He paused for a moment as if pondering whether to actually say what he wanted to. When he finally continued he said, "Why do you smell so much like Derek?"
Derek stopped breathing at the same time Stiles took in so much air that he started choking on it.
"Finally someone asked it." Peter exclaimed as Stiles' face turned bright red and he tried to regain normal breathing.
The second he was back in control of his air intake, Stiles started talking a mile a minute, "What? I don't know what you mean. I don't smell like Derek. If I did why would it matter? Not that I do. Smell like Derek. At all. I would never. What are you trying to imply? Why do you have to smell people anyway? It seems kind of rude to get into my personal business just because you have a super sniffer for a nose. Not that Derek and I have any business. I mean, obviously we have pack business. We work together all the time. That's why I smell like him probably. We've been doing pack things. Like a pack. Because we're pack."
Lydia didn't even look up from filing her nails as she interrupted Stiles with, "So when did you guys finally start dating?"
I'm almost done with my last chapter in The Sheriff's Son. I got distracted by this Secret Santa thing but I promise I'll have the last chapter posted for that fic by the end of the year.
