Fic: Teen Wolf: state of readiness | NC17 | Derek/Stiles (6/10)
"I'm sorry," Derek croons, way too softly. "What, exactly, did you just say?"
It's been three more weeks since Stiles kidnapped Derek for a sleepover. The first round of the war on weakness is over, having proven a wild success. Getting their Alpha to agree to the next course of action, however, is a completely different ball game.
Derek is glaring hotly at Stiles, advancing slowly into his way-too-personal space. Stiles can't truly sense behind him like the others-fucking werewolves and their unfuckingfair advantages-but he still knows everybody is slowly backing away from the two of them, leaving him holding the bag like the sacrificial lamb when it faced down Goliath in the lion's den on the sinking ship and fuck them all sideways with jaggedy-ass mixed metaphors.
"You said…you want to what now?"
Derek growls the words at him. And then he just growls. It's almost subsonic, not exactly audible so much as tickling like a gnat's bass-line under Stiles' breastbone. A giant, furry gnat with red eyes and very, very sharp claws.
"N-n-no! Not just me!" Stiles squeaks.
Derek's breath is hot on his neck, just under Stiles' right ear and Stiles is pretty sure he saw a glimpse of fang when Derek leaned in that last little inch and that…that should really not feel good. It should not be arousing. Something is really effed up with Stiles' wiring, because he should absolutely not be getting hard right now.
He thinks that exact sentiment really emphatically at his dick but then Derek huffs again on his neck and all Stiles can do is wonder if Derek will relent and lick his jugular instead of tearing it out with his teeth if Stiles bends his neck a little more and makes it look like submitting.
Self-preservation is a powerful thing.
"Not me, us. This here, this is totally an "us" thing! It's everybody!" Stiles exclaims, hopping back at last because a man's gotta breathe, dammit. He emphasizes the totality of his traitorous comrades' participation in this offense with wind-milling arms.
"Everybody is in agreement up in here."
"We feel like we should b-be able to help you," Scott stammers, "and not have it be just the other way around."
Stiles closes his eyes in abject relief. Scott. Stiles loves Scott. Has never loved him more than he does at this very moment, when his BFF shifts Derek's attention away from Stiles.
"It's our duty," adds Boyd. Good 'ole Boyd.
"It just makes sense Derek," Allison says softly, Erica murmuring agreement along with her.
"It's only fair," Lydia declares, and, seriously, her little chin is so cute when she tilts it up defiantly the way she does that even Derek wouldn't bite it off. Probably.
"And because we care about you," Isaac chimes in, his expression so sincere it makes Stiles ache to look at him. It apparently works the same way with Derek, because he watches Isaac for a long moment before he suddenly deflates, plopping down into the closest chair like a puppet with severed strings.
"Is this going to turn into an intervention?" he growls, rubbing his forehead like a migraine is imminent.
"Nope," Boyd says, reaching out to clap Derek on the shoulder before stepping back. "It's a one-on-one, private gig, remember?"
Derek blinks at him, nodding slowly and Boyd dips his head respectfully, call and response, before he turns to go. The others take that as their cue, and the rest of the pack starts moving slowly towards the door.
Everybody except Stiles, who drags a footstool over and sits down across from Derek, almost knee-to-knee.
And waits.
Derek stares at him blankly for a moment, until Stiles sees…actually watches the understanding dawn on Derek's face. Derek's pupils widen in surprise and then his eyes narrow, his mouth slackens and then there's a firm press of his lips. Little micro-reactions, really, that Stiles has only ever read about in books, until now. He'd never thought it'd really work that way in real life, or that he'd know somebody well enough to read them when it did.
Three months ago, he wouldn't have.
"Drew the short straw, huh?" Derek's eyes crinkle a little and he almost smiles and Stiles feels rather than sees the others hesitate at the threshold.
It's Jackson who answers; Jackson who hasn't said a word this entire time and is the only member of the pack who didn't bother to back Stiles up when Derek was all fangy at his throat.
"Derek, man, sometimes you're just oblivious," he says coolly, as if he's simply recounting a fact of life-like gravity or the sun rising in the east or that an upset in the first round of the NCAA tournament is guaranteed to fuck up his bracket every year-instead of edging on disrespect to his Alpha.
Derek looks too stunned at this revelation to be angry.
"We're not stupid. Everybody here figured out a long time ago that Stiles is your favorite." Jackson pauses before tossing out one last pithy observation as he glides out the door.
"Everybody but you."
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part seven