triskehale | she burned like a fire only drowning men could see

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stiles

she burned like a fire only drowning men could see

Seeing Lydia in Darrow definitely throws Derek through a loop.

So far, he's been treating Darrow like a little literal bubble where nothing all that bad happens, completely cut off from his life in Beacon Hills. Things here weren't so bad, all things considered, and he had Stiles. Lydia showing up was just a slap in the face, making him feel immensely foolish for thinking that his old life could ever truly be put behind him. It will always be a part of him, and it will always come back to haunt him. It was a stinging wake up call, one that Derek desperately did not want but realistically probably needed.

Plus, it's Lydia, who drugged Derek and used his body against his will to resurrect his dead, psychotic uncle. Dimly, Derek is aware that she was not in full control of her faculties and was working under said psychotic uncle's influence, but it still stings a bit.

Also, it's Lydia, who Stiles is in love with. Derek still remembers the look on Stiles' face in that warehouse, the tears in his eyes just at seeing her in the arms of another. And that's the point Stiles was ripped from Beacon Hills and came here, so Derek feels that it's safe to assume that those feelings still linger inside him. Stiles had found her immediately upon her arrival, like he was drawn to her, and plastered himself to her side.

Because he loves her, Derek had reminded himself. Seeing her, seeing them, was just too much for Derek to handle. He had taken to the woods in wolf form, clothes and phone tucked into a tree as he ran to lose himself.

He retreats well after the sun sets, covered in dirt with blood on his teeth, and heads for home. He unlocks the door and trudges in, wholly surprised to see Stiles standing at his kitchen counter. Stiles doesn't have a key, but Derek's bedroom window is always unlocked so Stiles can access his apartment from the fire escape when he wants, so it's not Stiles being in his apartment that surprises him. It's seeing him at all that's shocking, especially without Lydia at his side. For a second, Derek is afraid that Stiles might have brought her and her sickly sweet scent into his home, enough that he breathes in sharply through his nose, but he doesn't smell anything out of the ordinary. It was a foolish thought anyway; Stiles knows enough not to do that.

Still, he's a bit suspicious, apprehensive even. He honestly hadn't expected to see Stiles again for awhile.

"Stiles," Derek asks stoically, wiping his face and succeeding only in smearing dirt across his temple. "What are you doing here?"

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After he had shown Lydia her place and the two of them had scoped out her apartment to make sure that it wasn't some kind of murder den, Stiles had (very awkwardly) excused himself. Why stick around when Lydia doesn't want him there? He'd done enough of that before, and the months away have made things feel different. Not quite awkward, no more than usual, but just... it's weird what the time apart did.

He's sitting on the counter eating chips and surfing the Internet on his phone when Derek comes in, raising his eyebrows in surprise at how disheveled he looks.

"Eating the BLT chips I bought us? Which are awesome, might I add," he says, mouth full of chips as he swings his feet back and forth. "I was wondering where you were!"

Okay, this Derek was not expecting. He'd been off moping like a kicked puppy in the woods because he thought he was experiencing the beginning of losing Stiles, when actually Stiles was sitting here waiting for him the whole time. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and rubs his thumb across the screen, frowning down at the missed notifications from him.

"I was in the woods," he asks gruffly, lifting his feet one at a time to unlace his boots and remove them, lining them up neatly next to the door and curling his toes uncertainly in his dirty socks. "Where's Lydia? Why aren't you with her?"

"And apparently having a hell of a time," he laughs, nodding to Derek's general state of... well. Wolfiness. He's dirty, sweaty, and Stiles is pretty sure there's blood on his lips. He's gotten over thinking it's horrifying (so much blood) and moved on to filing it in that weird space in his life that he's become oddly comfortable with.

With a breathy huff of air, he beckons Derek over, holding the open bag of chips out to him and wagging it as temptingly as he can. "Lydia's at her place; I helped her find it. She's taking to the whole thing surprisingly well, but I'm guessing that she's trying to put all the pieces together. So I left her to do her own thing."

Derek is still looking kind of sour, so he just rolls his eyes and shoves his hand into the bag, coming back with a handful of chips and waving it, crumbs flying. "Will you come try these? I'm providing for us here, big guy. You bring home any buffalo or were you going for a hike?"

Edited 2013-08-06 21:18 (UTC)

Derek is still sort of unable to accept that Stiles is here in front of him instead of Lydia, even after everything. "I wasn't hiking."

He grabs a glass of water and swishes it around his mouth, spitting it into the sink before taking a long gulp. Then, once his lips and teeth are clean, he takes one of the chips from Stiles, if only to keep him from getting crumbs everywhere. He chews it slowly, watching his face thoughtfully.

"You must be happy she's here," he says quietly, picking it at like a wound.

"Happy's not really the word," he shrugs, still holding the bag out, because Derek's gotta need human nourishment after all that running around. And because he's just being a nuisance, like always. "I mean, it's good to see her. But she's not exactly happy to see me - not that she ever is - and it means she's stuck here, too. And she's the only person who tolerates me less than you used to, alpha."

He laughs, light and honest. It's weird, the way things have changed since he and Derek found each other in Darrow, but he's not going to complain about it. Making a best friend with someone who used to threaten to rip your throat out? Stiles has a pretty sweet deal, he thinks, regardless of whatever Should I Ask Derek to Get Dinner with Me and Risk Him Slamming Me Up Against a Wall in a Bad Way thoughts he's been having. This is good. For now. He still needs to ask, anyway.

He blinks, catching himself drifting in thought and smiling, embarrassed. "She has my number and I told her to text or call if she needed help with anything. But I don't know if she's gonna want any."

He tries to ignore the flutter in his belly that he always gets when Stiles refers to him as alpha. It took awhile for him to release that he wasn't teasing; he really does see him as one. It sort of blows his mind and appeals to the wolf in him in equal measure. Stiles is the best beta he's ever had, and he isn't even a wolf.

Derek's hands are dirty so he continues picking the chips out of Stiles' hand to avoid contaminating the bag, chewing slowly. He is ravenous, even after the rabbit. Okay, fine, rabbits. Also, Lydia is an idiot. Why wouldn't she want to be around Stiles? But then again, he didn't either, not until he really got to know him. What if the same happens with Lydia now that they're here?

"That torch you carry for her come over to Darrow with you?" He doesn't want Stiles pining over someone else while Derek pines for him, because that just would just another layer of drama to the soap opera that is their lives. But also, he doesn't want to see Stiles hurting. God, he's probably resort to playing matchmaker if it would keep him from feeling any pain. Then again, that would involve willingly talking to Lydia, so maybe not.

He can't help but to think back to his conversation with Castiel in the park. What happens when he finds someone else? The timing is almost too perfect and Derek can't help but to be wary, no matter what Stiles says.

He's not exactly embarrassed that Derek brings up his crush on Lydia - it's not as though it was ever a secret - but the question still catches him off guard. He's not even sure he knows the answer, shit.

"I guess it's sort of died out a bit. Cut the flame off from its air supply, you know." He laughs, looking up at the ceiling and thinking of Darrow's proverbial (shit, probably even literal) domed sky. "We've been stuck here for a while. I'm just happy she's okay."

Derek just nods along, listening to his heartbeat the whole time. He's not lying, but he's not exactly sure of himself. "Out of sight, out of mind." The next chip Derek swallows goes down like wet cement and he rubs his hands on his dirty jeans. "She isn't out of sight anymore."

He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it in the general direction of the bathroom, looking down at the dirt smeared across his chest. How did he get so dirty? Did he lose himself that much? God, all he wants in the world is to take a shower and curl up with Stiles, to hold him and make sure he's still Derek's. But is he, really?

He sighs and looks over at Stiles, trying to keep the emotion off of his face.

He watches the way Derek looks over at him when he's pulled off his shirt, determined to keep his eyes on his face and only slipping up a couple of times. It's impossible to read his expression, because nobody does poker face like a Hale, and there's nothing that makes Stiles more twitchy than not knowing what Derek's thinking.

Hell, he doesn't even get why he's being pressed about Lydia so much, and it's making him squirmy. As if he doesn't have a laundry list of faults that he's well aware of already. So he had a crush. Things have changed.

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, awkwardly gesturing toward the bathroom door. "I can make you some real food while you clean up. I think we still got some stuff for sandwiches."

Derek nods, gaze flickering down to his mouth a few times. He bites his lip and leans in slowly, lightly bumping their foreheads together like they do sometimes. A blush rises to his cheeks while he does it, but he's desperate not to lose this bond that they've been forming. Bottom line, he's selfish, and he wants Stiles to be his.

His expression is strangely vulnerable as he pulls away, eyes lingering on Stiles' face for a moment before he steps back and turns, unbuttoning his pants and shamelessly kicking them towards his bedroom. He can feel Stiles' eyes on him and it takes everything he has not to look over his shoulder and try to read the look on his face before he steps into the bathroom and shuts the door.

God, Stiles could write volumes filled with the things he doesn't understand about Derek Hale. First he comes in looking like he lived in the woods for a week, then he grills him about Lydia - who Derek doesn't like anyway - and then he's getting all quiet and nice again like he has been since they got here, bumping foreheads like pack and giving him these looks that make no sense in context of Derek Hale.

Annnnd then he's getting naked, and Stiles really has no clue what to do with that. He gapes for one moment because he's Stiles, another because he's sixteen, and another because it's Derek's ass. So three moments later, he's bright red and doing an about face, heading into the kitchen to definitely not think about what the fuck just happened.

He makes them both sandwiches, Derek's piled high with slices of steak, and turns on the TV for something to stare at while he waits for him and doesn't think about the guy he's kind of got a thing for getting buckass nude in front of him.

Derek scrubs himself down in the shower and watches the dirt wash away, thinking over his conversation with Stiles. He says that he's over her, and he wasn't lying. He didn't smell spicy warm like arousal when he talked about it. Maybe this won't be as bad as Derek thought.

Spending all day as a wolf out in the woods makes it hard for him to shake the mindset, and he doesn't bother putting on clothes as he leaves the bathroom. He walks by naked, scrubbing at his wet hair with his towel as he heads for his bedroom. He pulls on a pair of thin, clingy sweats mainly out of obligation and tosses the towel aside, running his fingers through his hair to make it stand up as he comes back into the living room.

"Those look good." He grabs the chips and sits down next to Stiles, leaving little room between them. He wants to be close.

Stiles looks over his shoulder to tell Derek that he's got food for them both when he hears the bathroom door open, eyes widening when he sees that Derek is still naked. Containing whatever flails threaten to come up, he swears under his breath and just looks back at the TV again. Because seriously? If there are powers that be, or Darrow powers that be, or whatever? This has got to be some kind of test.

When Derek comes back out, he's blissfully (half) clothed, with Stiles entirely unable to see his junk, or his ass, and leaving him with relative peace of mind. Then, of course, Derek has to sit down with him, and it's all he can think about.

"Um, yeah," he says, holding the bag out before grabbing Derek's sandwich off of the coffee table to shove at him, too. "I make excellent snack choices and should have all snack duty delegated to me. Thank you. Eat your sandwich." He bumps their shoulders and stares, very determinedly, at his own food. This is the worst.

"You're good at food," Derek agrees, feeling more non-verbal than usual thanks to his time as the wolf. He likes that Stiles takes care of him, of both of them. It makes Derek feel warm inside. He pops a few chips into his mouth and grabs his sandwich, growling happily at how piled high with meat it is. He balances the plate on his lap and takes a huge bite, nodding his approval and reaching up to wipe juices from the corner of his mouth.

He leans over to butt his forehead against Stiles' temple in gratitude before taking another bite, slotting himself in close.

"I actually think you mean I'm awesome at it," he says, watching Derek dig in and actually feeling kind of proud of himself. He gives Derek a slightly self conscious smile and waves the compliment off. It's surprising, when Derek leans in, but he just looks over at him and pats his leg, leaning to take a bite of his sandwich. "I was going to put ketchup to simulate blood. But I thought you wouldn't approve."

He growls at the mere suggestion of ruining such delicious meat and takes another bite. Meat spills out onto his plate and he grabs a piece, curling it in his fingers and wrapping an arm around Stiles' shoulders. He pulls him close and nuzzles the top of his head, lifting his fingers to Stiles' mouth to feed him.

If Derek wasn't so firmly stuck in wolf mode, he wouldn't be doing this. He'd want to, but he wouldn't have the guts to actually do so. But Stiles is his pack, and it's his job as an alpha to take care of him. He never got to be an alpha like this before. There was always too much going on. And yeah, part of it has to do with Stiles being his desired mate, he's sure, because he can't imagine doing this with Erica or Isaac.

He doesn't think about it, just holds the meat out and taps Stiles' bottom lip with his finger while looking down at him expectantly.

This is the closest that the two of them have ever been together, and Derek is shirtless and nuzzling him and offering him food. This would be awesome, if it weren't for the way he's pretty much crippled by all modes of intelligent thought right now beyond oh my god. The two of them nuzzle, bump foreheads, touch. Pack stuff, he's always told himself. This is different, and he can feel it.

It's pretty far from terrible.

Derek seems happy, though, and not much in a mood for talking - less so than he normally is - so who is Stiles to complain or question a good thing? He goes a little cross eyed, looking down at Derek's hand, and carefully takes the steak from him in his teeth, making an appreciative sound and licking his lips. "Thanks, alpha." He smiles, hoping that the gratitude comes across for Derek's wolf, and just leans into his arm, getting comfortable and trying not to feel as awkward as he, uh. Does. He is the worst with crushes. Like, seriously. The worst.

Derek smiles happily and lets out a soft hum, thumbing at Stiles' bottom lip and bringing his fingers up to his own mouth to lick them clean. He takes another bite his sandwich and pulls Stiles close, sliding his hand up and down his arm. This feels so nice, being close like this. It relaxes him, and he settles down, pulling Stiles' head down to rest on his shoulder.

He picks up another piece of meat and feeds it to him, enjoying the rush he gets when his fingertips brush his lips.

Derek doesn't seem quite like his usual self, so Stiles is reluctant to break the reverie - particularly when he doesn't hate it himself. He's comfortable, and actually pretty full after all the chips and half his sandwich, so he just rests there, letting Derek feed him a couple more pieces of steak before he yawns and closes his eyes. "I did good, huh, big guy?"

"Very good." He finishes off the rest of Stiles' sandwich once he seems full and leans forward to set the plates on the table. Once he sits back, he's a little more aware of himself and he gives Stiles a look that says as much. He leans back against the sofa and rests his arm against the back of the sofa, giving Stiles an invitation, but more importantly, a choice.

Stiles falls back to next to Derek right away, not resting on his shoulder again but still leaning in to bump foreheads like they've started doing lately before he settles in at his side, Derek's arm behind him. "Hey, will you do me a favor?" he tilts his head back to look at Derek, nudging him lightly with his elbow. "Tell me, next time you're gonna disappear?"

Derek nuzzles him a little until he speaks. It sobers him a bit and he nods, looking up at Derek and bringing a hand around to rest between his shoulder blades. "Yeah, okay," he says deeply. "I saw you with Lydia and I just - " Needed time. "Thought you'd be occupied all day."

"It freaks me out when I can't get a hold of you," he admits, looking down out of embarrassment. "I mean, around here, you never know what could happen. You know?"

He huffs, feeling himself blushing. "But yeah. If you could. Thanks."

"Hey, it's okay." He reaches up and cups his cheek, thumbing at his chin. "I'll tell you, if I ever need it again."

The urge to pull him into a kiss nearly overwhelms him so he pulls him down to rest against his shoulder again, spreading his legs so Stiles slots between them and sprawls across his bare chest. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"But what if you do?" The words are soft and a little shaky, and if he weren't feeling so insane right now, he might be embarrassed by the way he leans heavily on Derek, sighing. "Just... yeah. It's cool. Sorry to be stupid about it."

"I won't," he says with conviction, putting a bit of alpha growl into it. His arms tighten around him and he slides his hand up into his hair. "It's not stupid, but I'm not leaving you, Stiles. They'd never be able to rip me away."

Yeah, it's open and honest and uncharacteristically vulnerable, but Stiles is right there with him, and he wants to soothe his fears.

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she burned like a fire only drowning men could see

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