#I mean I’m sure that’s why both Mojo and Him were SO super proud of them because yeah they ARE unapologetically evil

[bugeyedfreaks]

This is mostly for me, but that headcanon I just posted reminded me why I get squicked out from all the PPG/RRB stuff where the boys suddenly respect the girls enough to ~love~ them. I don’t think the RRB could ever suddenly be good or be “redeemed.” Mojo was involved in the crossfire of the PPG’s creation. There wasn’t any other interference in the RRB’s creation, so there wasn’t anything that could’ve transferred any semblance of “goodness” to the boys, since they were made with such disgusting material. Like they’re essentially pure evil (and let’s not even talk about Him’s recolors added influence later on).

[halinski]

Where’s Your Spidey Sense?

For my wonderful muse and friend @alphawitch21​ <3 sorry it took so long and hope you enjoy!!

Things I strived for: alpha derek, bamf stiles, omega/pack mom stiles, magical/emissary/spark stiles, glasses derek, happy derek, confident derek, like smoldering derek, very much beardy derek

Thanks to @livinginfictions​ for the detailed beta, and everyone who supported me in the process!!

(I really was gonna try to write some sexy times for you, C, but... this is the best I could do xD)

read on ao3

Stiles sighed in aggravation and slumped back in his chair, sliding down a bit and kicking his legs out, successfully not hitting Derek in the shin. "Pass the coffee, will you?" He prompted, making grabby hands toward the metal travel mug without actually making an effort to reach it. Derek made a face beneath his black rimmed glasses, acting like his eyebrows were a sufficient reply.

"Oh, come on, my head is bursting over here. I need something to keep me going or I will fail my midterm and it’ll be all your fault for not doing something so simple as just passing the coffee over here. You don't want to be the cause of my failure, do you, Derek? Hm? Do you?"

Apparently Stiles was not beneath holding a conversation with Derek's eyebrows. Though, he had to point out that the werewolf probably had the most expressive eyebrows in the world.

Just like he had the firmest abs, and strongest shoulders; traits he never failed to show off, be it by taking his shirt off for pack training 'because otherwise he'd get all his shirts torn' (yeah, right, like he couldn't actually dodge most attacks by the betas) or by wearing sweaters that miraculously showed off his muscles as well. Stiles had been practicing his magic but he didn't know what kind of dark mojo Derek was using. Maybe he'd sold his soul to the devil so he could always look hot like burning. Stiles almost felt tempted to ask him about it. If only that wouldn't reveal his probably already obvious (to a werewolf at least) major crush on the current Hale alpha. A major crush that was not being helped by that beard he had going on. Not at all. It made him look like the hottest history-slash-english professor ever in the history of the earth. That’s all Stiles had to say about the matter, and say it he couldn’t.

"This is my coffee," Derek says, like he'd never heard of this concept called sharing. Stiles had thought growing up with siblings taught you that sharing was caring but apparently it had the opposite effect. Derek actually pulled the travel mug closer to himself.

"Caffeine doesn't even work on you! I don't know why you drink coffee in the first place," Stiles exclaimed.

"I like the taste. And the warmth is soothing."

"You like the taste? That's straight black coffee. It's so bitter. No one drinks that for the taste alone."

Derek jutted his chin out defiantly. "Well, I do. Besides, you’re not even studying."

“Hey, I am absolutely studying. I am studying all the different disastrously dangerous things that could swoop in at any moment and kill us. It’s quite literally studying like my life depends on it, so no judging. Just because you’re not top of your class with minimal work like me doesn’t mean you have to be as bitter as your coffee.”

Stiles realized that last comment might have been a little too unfair by the way Derek’s expression dropped. He bit his tongue, hands coming up as his brain raced for an apology but all he could do was watch as in retaliation, Derek raised the mug to his lips and chugged the rest of the liquid, up till the very last drop, while staring Stiles down. For some reason - Stiles simply didn’t understand how his body worked sometimes - he found that hot. Impressive. Like his coffee chugging skills could possibly be used in some sexual way. Stiles had to keep his mouth clamped shut before he blurted anything out that Derek would rip his throat out for.

Derek smirked victoriously at the look on Stiles’ face, who then huffed petulantly and turned back to his laptop.

“You know, you should just take me up on my offer to help you with your term papers. I mean, we both know you’re insanely smart. You just aren’t used to structuring and formulating things the way they want you to. Which is freaking normal with all you went through and the fact that you haven’t been to a class in like years. There’s no need to be ashamed,” Stiles grumbled under his breath, knowing Derek could hear him just right and trying at the very least to make it up to Derek a little bit. Somewhere along the line, he was pretty sure he saw Derek’s face soften a little bit, and Stiles prided himself in knowing Derek enough to be able to read him like that.

He was proud of him, too, really. They had succeeded in talking Derek into going to college with them after Stiles had found out that had been one of those things Derek would have wanted if his life was normal. They were all trying to pretend they were normal, even if Stiles currently had the beastiary pulled up on his laptop - their own one, not the ancient, illegible one - and even if they had to pull some strings to all get accepted to the same college so the pack could stay together. But it was quite the experience to all have this together, even with their older alpha. It obviously couldn’t be easy to be starting the year with a bunch of teenagers, while babysitting a rowdy bunch of werewolves. As the emissary, Stiles considered himself a co-babysitter. The pups did turn to him, after all, if they were ever a little intimidated to go to Derek. Like the time Jackson had come to Stiles to help him plan the perfect date for Lydia.

“You guys are the worst,” Isaac suddenly proclaimed, standing up with a loud screech of his chair that even he winced at. Stiles barely had time to recover before the boy had picked up his stuff and walked off.

“Not as bad as your scarf kink!” Stiles called after him. It only got him an unimpressed eyebrow from Derek and a middle finger in the distance from the retreating form.

“What? He started it,” Stiles muttered.

“And I’m ending it,” Derek declared. “Get your schoolwork done,” he added, giving a nod toward Stiles’ course book.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be-”

CRASH - and a scream followed soon after.

“What was that?!” Stiles asked, jumping out of his seat. Derek’s nostrils flared.

“Downstairs!” Derek called back in a clipped voice as he rushed past him, which really wasn’t much of an answer at all.

Stiles threw a glance back at their stuff - his precious laptop wasn’t allowed to get stolen, he needed it - but Derek’s reaction indicated that their first priority was saving lives. He couldn’t believe that whatever magical beacon-like force Beacon Hills had, followed them to the college one town over - which Derek still insisted driving to and from every day. But he was ready, sprinting after Derek, hands starting to spark in a faint orange glow.

“Der’k! Wait!” Stiles tried to call out as he struggled to catch up but of course the self-sacrificing werewolf didn’t listen, leaping down the flight of stairs. At least this time he propped one hand on the banister to support himself. Werewolf-super-healing powers be damned. Stiles couldn’t help worrying about Derek. He could still twist his ankle, jumping around like that just to be dramatic, and Stiles couldn’t stand his carelessness. Pain seemed to be Derek's best friend - Stiles had yet to top it but he was working on it.

Just as miraculously, Stiles made it down the flights in full health himself and burst through the next set of doors. At first all he saw were more bookshelves, and everything appeared just fine until one of the bookshelves came crashing down next to him. His reflexes were now fast enough to let him jump back in time to avoid getting his foot shattered by the heavy wood and hundreds of books.

But suddenly, he was staring down, right into the face of a vaguely humanoid creature with two too many eyes. All of the eyes had two pupils with irises that merged in the middle. Albeit spine-chilling and captivating, that was one of the less horrifying attributes of the monster of the week. Stiles had seen many things in battle at this point. Many things. But never this. The top half was covered in mottled skin that look like it could burst at any moment and was connected neatly with the hairy bottom half, which carried six huge spider-like legs. It was… a were-spider? Half human, half spider.

It screeched at Stiles, fangs bared wide, and Stiles swore he could see a liquid dripping off the tip of one of the teeth.

“Oh my god,” he pressed out, his body jerking into motion. With a flash from his hands, he created a small magical barrier around himself as the spider-man - which NOPE, that was so wrong, on so many levels, if any spider-man existed, it would not be something as horrendous as this - the spider-person took up chase. It jumped at Stiles but crashed against the barrier, sending him sprawling to his knees - that would be an ugly skid mark.

“Stiles!”

“All good, buddy,” he called back to Derek, who came rushing to his side and grasped his elbow to help him the rest of the way up to his feet. “I mean, not all good. Not all good at all. Because that thing. That is most definitely not okay, okay?! Fuck, I’m ready to bring this little bugger down,” he rambled.

Meanwhile the creature screeched again loudly, taking a few steps towards them and then stopping, staring at them with its bizarrely bright green eyes.

“What is that… thing doing?” Stiles raised his hands, ready to raise another barrier, arms shimmering vividly.

“Arachne,” Derek breathed next to him, eyebrows pulled together over his red burning eyes. He had his thinking face on, which was insanely adorable in peaceful moments. Stiles could watch that forever when Derek sat there, full focus on the matter at hand, while his literal hand would come up to scratch his beard- which Stiles really, really wanted to feel (all over). But that was a thought for another day, when they didn’t have a venom spitting thing loose in front of them.

“A-what?” Stiles asked.

“Arachne. That’s what it is,” Derek said, voice pressed. “We can’t let it bite anyone.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t planning on letting it anywhere near me.” Stiles shuddered upon the thought.

“No, that’s not what I- shit!”

The arachne took off running, but in the opposite direction, Derek on its tail - not literal tail. That would be too weird for even Stiles to comprehend at this point. Noting the pointed end at the hind of the creature though, he assumed there might be some web-slinging involved. It was something to look out for.

Stiles lost the other two again within seconds but could easily follow the sound of screams that came from the hallway out the side of the room. He ran out into hallway to see Derek facing two arachnes. Fuck, were they multiplying or what? If so, they had a big fucking problem. It was two against one now as Derek relentlessly attacked without Stiles. Derek would've been torn to shreds if he were all alone. But, as always, Stiles was here to save the day - or well, save Derek. That was what mattered most, after all. The rest they could deal with later.

Widening his stance on the ground, Stiles raised his arms, the sparks around his fingers crackling. His powers seemed to consist of some form of energy, between electricity and fire, something not really definable. Despite its unknown origin, it made Stiles far more effective in battle than a baseball bat had. He just had to be careful not to hit Derek at this distance.

He created a whip-like energetic beam and threw it out to wrap around one of the arachnes' legs. The creature cried out on contact, which Stiles considered a victory in itself. He couldn't exactly knock it off balance seeing as it had five more legs but pulling at the one leg with all his might sure did get its attention. It scurried over toward him and just the way it moved made the hairs on Stiles' nape stand up. For a split second he couldn't move. Then he pulled his hands back, letting the beam dissipate into thin air.

"Derek!" And the werewolf followed the unspoken command, allowing Stiles to thrust forward with a wave of power, throwing the arachne backwards, right into the second one. Both of them slid down the aisle back to the far wall. Derek ran off after them right away. This time Stiles was right beside him.

“We can’t kill them,” Derek said tight-lipped.

Stiles let out a dry laugh. “You can’t just say that and not give me a good fucking reason why.”

“Because at least one of them is still human inside.”

“Nothing about them is still human! Look at their eyes- their legs- their… everything! How can they ever turn back?”

“Stiles,” Derek pressed out heavily, prompting him to look over. He met Derek’s eyes, where he could see a sense of urgency. “I know we can turn them back. We have to turn them back."

They stopped in front of the two creatures, who were still wrangling themselves back onto their feet. Stiles sighed heavily, slumping, as he watched the hairy feet scuttle on the wooden floor.

“Fine,” he muttered, raising his arms again with a hum of magic, the orange substance arching up with his fingertips. "But don't blame me if someone dies." Stiles knew Derek wouldn't. Even if Stiles did something incredibly stupid and it was clear that he was the reason for someone's death, Derek would still find a way to reason that it was his own fault. It was simultaneously annoying, as well as something Stiles could absolutely relate to.

"Also, like, do you have any idea how we're supposed to capture and restrain these things so we can find out how to turn them back?" Stiles added.

The arachnes were hissing at them viciously and yep, there was definitely some kind of most probably poisonous liquid frothing right around their sharp pincers. And they were both looking straight at Stiles, eyeing the crackling static around his hands warily. It was simultaneously empowering - being perceived as the bigger threat - and also fucking terrifying.

Naturally, Derek stepped on up right around him to stand in front of Stiles to protect him. And he growled that low, warning growl that for completely insane reasons made something in the pit of Stiles’ stomach stir. Stiles hoped to all the gods that the all the other scents around them covered that hint of arousal. Though, Derek must have been used to it by now, too.

"Derek," Stiles warned - and he'd never get tired of saying that name. But it was always a gamble if Derek would go or not. Were Stiles still making dog jokes, that’s what he would compare it to: like calling a dog off, you had to catch him at just the right second, otherwise it was all over. And this time Derek didn’t listen. With a jump, he launched himself at the two creatures, meeting their hissing with an amplifying growl.

"Shit."

There wasn't much time left to contemplate the best course of action now that Derek was in the midst of the frenzy, two vicious arachnes trying to wound, bite and possibly kill him, while he was being extremely careful to not hurt them badly.

It wasn’t Stiles’ style to throw himself blindly into battle. Well, it was sometimes. But he liked to have a plan. There was no time now, and that was basically plan B. When it came to it, Stiles was down for some quick thinking and gut instincts. But the thing was, it all happened so damn fast. Next thing he knew, Stiles was on his knees, wiping the sweat from his eyes just to see Derek get thrown down with a flash of red and curling in on himself.

That was it.

Stiles grasped blindly at the mountain ash vial around his neck, sending the energy from his fingertips thrumming through the glass casing so that it exploded into pieces where he threw it at Derek’s feet. In the same movement, he lifted his hand again for momentum and punched it down hard, sending the crackling vibrations out toward the settling ash so that it formed a clean circle around Derek. And just in time. Derek could only just about look up as one of the arachnes crashed into the invisible wall with a screech. The other scrabbled to a stop in front of the ash warily, looking down at it and then promptly at Stiles.

He pulled himself to his knees, breathed out and wiped some of the blood off his lip and met their stares head on. They squared up in front of him, and Stiles knew: this was it. The ultimate showdown. Drawing his arms to his sides, palms up, sparks jumped from fingertip to fingertip, dancing across Stiles’ skin.

It wasn’t clear what he was dealing with here at all, but Stiles knew one thing. He could trust in his spark, that pleasant hum in his ears and warmth in his chest. And he knew he wouldn’t give them another chance to lay their creepy ass hands on Derek again. Derek’s ass was staying where it was, even though Stiles could vaguely hear him demanding to be released, saying he couldn’t do this. He was using his alpha voice, the one he never seriously used on Stiles, wrenching himself at the mountain ash as if he wasn’t bleeding heavily.

Stiles narrowed his focus down on the arachnes. This was between them now.

“Come and get it,” he yelled out, his throat reverberating with the power contained inside him, almost like a growl, like he was finally one with the pack. And the arachnes listened, hissing and racing forward. Stiles mirrored them.

The last thing he heard before he crashed into them with outstretched arms and a shout, was a desperate, “Stiles!” before everything around him burst into orange.

-------------- Derek was being stupid.

That is, Derek wasn’t talking to him and that was incredibly stupid because how were they supposed to figure out what to do with the arachnes that were currently being held captive upstairs in the loft - which again,  a totally stupid thing Derek wasn’t listening to him about - as quickly as possible if they didn’t friggin communicate? They couldn’t. Stiles could research day and night and and he would still be missing the passed down knowledge Derek obviously had.

Together they were unstoppable… and Stiles knew Derek knew that. Now he just needed to stop being a dick.

“Derek,” Stiles said, for probably the 50th time in the past 2 hours. They were both stubborn. And while Stiles prided himself in being particularly strong-willed, he’d never met anyone else who was as determined as this tall, angry werewolf. It wasn’t really a surprise. It had been clear from the start that Derek had walls up all around him, hard as diamond and thick as the earth’s core. Stiles had thought he’d softened them a little, relieved some of the pressure. But apparently he’d made a mistake. He had a nagging feeling he knew what it was.

Okay, so maybe Stiles was the dick here but they couldn't move past it if they didn't talk about it.

“Come onnn, please. I’m dying here. Will you just say one word to me?”

Silence.

“I’ll even take a growl at this point.” Stiles stepped in front of him.

Derek just turned his back on him again, shoulders hunched, drawn in.

“Hey! Don’t be such a sourwolf, man-”

“Don’t!” Stiles jumped as Derek suddenly whirled around to jab a finger in his direction, eyes ablaze even while they remained their usual hazel gray. It was the kind of anger Stiles hadn’t seen directed at him for a long while now. “Don’t you fucking sourwolf me.”

His tone was hard and cold, making Stiles swallow tensely.

“I, uh… Okay,” he nodded, wringing his hands together. “This is a start. You acknowledged me, this is good. This is good.” Though the heavy coil in his stomach resulting from the way Derek had raised his voice felt like anything but good.

The thing was- Derek never swore. All the deaths and pain and bullshit he had been through, and Stiles had never heard him say a single curse word. Now here he was, dropping an f-bomb.

Derek’s stare on Stiles was unwavering. His lips pursed like he wanted to speak but was contemplating if Stiles was worth it. Stiles hoped to the moon and back that Derek concluded he was. He really didn’t want things to go all downhill from here. The tension between them manifested in his chest, pressuring Stiles as if he was back in the pool at Beacon Hills High, treading water and hoping not to drown. Except this time it was him who was paralyzed and Derek was the one in control. Derek decided if their… companionship sank or swam for a little while longer.

Then again it was probably Stiles who had them thrown overboard, trusting in Derek to trust him back. But Derek didn’t owe him anything, not when Stiles had gone against him. Derek had every right to leave Stiles stranded and hurry off to safety. Stiles wouldn’t blame him.He was panicking. He knew he was but he would have to control it. Falling apart in front of Derek right now would not help their delicate situation. He would just have to-

Stiles flinched at the pain that shot through his damaged lip when he subconsciously bit down on it. The gasp it drew from him not only reminded him to breathe but it broke Derek's concentrated stare. Unfortunately, it just made his facial expression shut down. The room went cold and Derek straightened like a board, like he was unbothered by anyone and everyone in the world.

"I'm sorry!" Stiles let out - unplanned and unrestricted, hearing his own desperation all too clearly, "I had to! You were..."

His hands found their way into his hair, pulling at the strands as he struggled to express his reasoning.

Derek sighed, looking away for a second before meeting his face again.

"Stiles, calm down."

"I'm calm, I'm calm. I'm-

"You're not,” Derek said dryly, like that unhappy edge to his voice would in any way help the situation.

"Well, neither are you! You put on this facade like you don't care about anything but you're simmering on the inside, just waiting to explode - waiting for a fight so you can let your anger consume you and risk your life by throwing yourself to the enemy on a silver platter! We’ve talked about this before like a million times! But you never change!

“You talked about it! I don’t see what the problem is. I survive, we win, I heal, all’s well that ends well.”

“I’m the only one talking because you refuse to engage! And you know what, Derek? One day, one day it will not end well and then what? What if you die? Then what, huh?”

“If I die, I die.” Derek had the callousness to shrug.

“Really?” Stiles spat, the bitterness sneaking into his tone. “If you die… What am I supposed to do then? Where does it leave the pack? Huh?”

Derek crossed his arms, trying to appear unbothered by Stiles’ hard stare but he couldn’t hold it, looking away. “You’ll be fine,” he grunted.

Stiles laughed, hard and without amusement.

“A pack of young wolves, bitten if I may add, without an alpha. Yeah, that would be great. So wonderful. You know what, maybe we’d be better off, and we’d celebrate without a hard ass alpha on our asses the whole time-” Stiles hoped the sarcasm wasn’t overshadowed by his growing anger.

“It still doesn’t give you the right-”

“Oh, we’ll be so much better off without you,” Stiles continued in a high-pitched fashion. He had worked himself into it, a wildfire set to his tongue. ”You know I don’t know if anyone would ever really mourn you. We would just set up a party here.” He threw his arms up, melodramatically. “Dance on your grave and sing a victory song!”

Derek threw his hands down on the table between them that he’d maneuvered himself behind, and growled harshly.

“You took away my agency!” He yelled. Stiles’ jaw shut abruptly, and silence descended like a sudden overcast. Derek took a heavy breath, finally holding Stiles’ gaze again, eyes a whirlwind of hazel. “You trapped me. You took away ability to do anything.”

Derek was finally, speaking and Stiles listened, taking the brunt of his words - like he deserved.

“You took me out of the fight. You can’t just… you can’t…” and Derek deflated with a small huff because obviously Stiles could, and he had.

Stiles had utterly betrayed him. Derek took a breath.

“I’m the alpha. You’re my emissary. You can’t go against me like that.” Stiles swallowed heavily, looking down.

“I know. I know, I-”

“Did I ever take you out of a fight?”

“No, but I-” Stiles didn’t even know what he was trying to say. All he knew was that his feelings still had him by his throat like he was drowning. There was actually a sting in the back of his throat, at the top of his nose, between his eyes, so that he was left to blink rapidly.

“I trust you, Stiles,” Derek said and the gravity of that statement hit Stiles like a brick. “But you cannot do anything like that again.”

Stiles fidgeted, unsure he deserved to hear this statement right now.

“You still trust me?” he asked quietly, barely daring to give him a chance to take back what he had said.

Derek looked at him, almost gravely, with the slightest hint of fear. “I do.”

How long had Stiles been waiting for this moment? So long, it seemed, it'd been an eternity since he'd first demanded said trust; so long, he'd forgotten to dare hope for it. But here he was now, the only sound in his ears the rushing of his blood with every heavy beat of his heart, his gaze zeroed in on Derek's parted lips. There was a crackle in the air, but this time it was not coming from Stiles' fingertips.

"But you can't do anything like-"

"I won't," Stiles quickly agreed breathily, trying to stay focused to prove his sincerity. But it was Derek's lips, bearing the sight of his adorable bunny teeth, that little sliver of openness, of opportunity, that kept snagging his attention. "I promise."

"Good," Derek let out, although the the tension in the room didn't drop the way Derek's gaze did; down somewhere -maybe to Stiles' lips. Stiles wondered if he could feel this, too. This… everything.

"Will you… will you think about- not using yourself as a human shield?" The words came to him and out of his mouth slowly, like tar. Derek watched him for a minute.

"If you give me a good reason to," he then said.

And Stiles' brain sparked and shone and every bolt led to one single conclusion. He stepped around the table, trapped in this daze, like he had no choice in his actions anymore, like he was being led by a string of fate. And he let their yearning lips finally meet.

Stiles might have expected kissing Derek to be a fight, to be met with a push and pull- that is if he were ever to have imagined what it would have been like to kiss Derek, which he absolutely had not done. Ever. Not like it was anyone's business, anyway.

Instead, Stiles' lips fell into place smoothly, like just the right puzzle piece slipping in to complete the picture. And it was unimaginably soft. There was warmth and compliance, like they were melting together. It had been a while since Stiles had wanted to press pause, freeze frame, to observe and enjoy, for a while, if not forever. So he could believe that for once life wasn't trying to pull a prank on him.

But as quickly as the moment came, so quickly it left. Although everything seemingly happened in slow motion in his head, it was over like the snap of fingers. And here they were, reality.

Stiles pulled back when he realized what was happening, his heart threatening to pound out of his rib cage. He cleared his throat, not knowing where to look, and quickly snatched his hands back from Derek's chest.

"I uh…" he said in a squeak, motioning over to his right, planning his great escape, "-gotta go pee!"

And Derek let him scurry off without a word of protest, without a single noise, not even a breath.

------------ Stiles made no attempt to make a big entrance. In fact, he tried hard to slink back into the room somehow without attracting Derek's attention. He had a chance, he figured, with the way Derek's face was buried in his textbooks. Unfortunately for Stiles, being a student didn't negate the fact that Derek was a werewolf and fully well knew that Stiles was stepping in.

Derek shut his book with a pointed thud the moment Stiles' body was entirely engulfed in the room. Stiles froze.

"We need to talk," Derek said and if Stiles didn't know him better -  if he hadn't notice that little V between his eyebrows - he might've missed the slight frown and interpreted his expression as… well, expressionless.

Stiles may or may not have debated how quickly he could turn around and make it back out the door before Derek caught him. He cleared his throat.

"Um, I mean uh… I don't know what there is to talk about. I can't think of anything, you know. It's just…" He stopped wringing his hands and let them swing down to his side. "It's just that… we're already talking so everything I was starting to say really doesn't matter because we're talking and I suppose that's… the only real option because obviously I can't just disappear forever and like ehm never talk to you again. Because hah, yeah, that'd be… that'd be- I've gone through all those scenarios and I just… yeah."

Stiles pursed his lips, his brain catching up with his rambling and finally letting his mouth come to a rest. Except that pulled the focus to the exact area that had touched Derek… intimately earlier that day and so he pulled them inward and out of sight.

Derek on the other hand wasn't really doing anything at all except for… something else with his face that Stiles couldn't quite read because he couldn't quite see through his own thoughts right now. It must have been exasperation.

"Why do you let me just keep talking? Can't you just shut me up… somehow…" Stiles continued, his body deciding that he had been keeping still for long enough.

He realized it was a mistake when Derek dipped his head to hide a smile.

"Okay, don't-"

"Like with a kiss?" Derek asked.

Stiles groaned, throwing his hands up to his face. He shook his head. "I hate you. I truly, really, absolutely, most unquestionably-"

"Are a liar." Derek's voice was suddenly so close that Stiles couldn't help but jump a little and peek over his fingers. How the fuck did he move so quietly?

“Tell me this,” Derek then said, Stiles being successfully shut up by the hammering of his heart all the way way up in his throat. “Do you regret it?”

There was no use pretending Stiles didn’t know what Derek was talking about so he let all decorum fall, along with his hands back to his side, and shook his head.

“No, I-I… I mean, y-yes?” And it felt like a whole journey to get those few words out, his thoughts everywhere like the biggest ball of jumbled yarn, and his hands everywhere, falling and rising with his heaving chest, and his gaze scrambling all over the place, over Derek, a sturdy wall in front of him, who had that cocky half-smile on his face one second and then on and across the room and to the floor and back to Derek, who was suddenly frowning in confusion.

“How did you manage to make both of those sound true?” he asked and Stiles had to swallow hard because he hated himself for the way he always had to make everything so awkward? And also make such stupid mistakes in the first place?

“Because I…” he closed his eyes and wrung his hands. “Because I don’t- I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have kissed you… without your consent.”

And Derek huffed like it was no big deal, like Stiles hadn’t gone against the very principle they had just been talking about about making sure Derek was comfortable and wasn’t being forced into anything he hadn’t agreed to. It was the last thing Stiles wanted to do - make Derek feel… used.

“Listen, I’m sorry! I just keep messing up, I keep-” and his hands were in his hair again, tugging, because of course he had been trying to grow his hair out to try and appeal to someone, which was totally just another mistake. But Derek took hold of his arms gently and lowered them, sliding his hands down until he held Stiles’ hands.

"Ask me now,” Derek prompted.

“That’s not how it works-”

“Ask me,” Derek repeated with all the patience of a saint, his steady palms warm against Stiles’ as he gazed into those misty green eyes and it was all he needed to focus on the eager beating of his heart, letting out the crackling tension with a breath.

He wondered for a moment if he even had enough courage but when hadn’t Derek been there to catch him when he fell and threatened to break? And sure, they provoked each other sometimes but Derek wouldn't set him up for humiliation so cruelly, right?

Where he usually has no problems talking whatsoever, now his throat felt as dry as burnt toast and Stiles had to swallow multiple times, looking down at their conjoined hands, fingers tightly holding each other to resolve any shaking. Then he looked back up, up to Derek's soft smile - a smile reserved for him alone, a masterpiece - and into eyes that simultaneously held the future and home and-

Everything fell into place.

Suddenly the question rolled off his tongue like silk.

"Can I kiss you?"

And Derek didn't waste a single beat answering, exhaling the "yes" so quickly Stiles almost missed it, like he'd been waiting forever for that one little sound. The giddiness burst in Stiles' chest like a sparkler and when Derek kissed him this time, Stiles could feel it all the way into his toes. The tingling of something new but all too familiar, something that felt just right.

Stiles' eyes opened again when Derek pulled away and he watched with wonder as Derek laughed, unguarded and with heart.

"Really, Stiles?" He asked, turning his head to follow the golden sparks that danced around them, lighting up the room like fireworks.

"I wasn't- It… shut up," Stiles huffed at him, cheeks hot - but then again, so was the rest of his body. Nothing spoke for any containment of the bursts of happiness that bloomed like daisies from his chest though, especially with the way the lighting made Derek's face glow, eyes bright and teasing, lips stretched wide with more laughter.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" Derek asked, turning back to Stiles. All that left Stiles' lips the moment he parted them though was, "Can I kiss you again?"

Derek dipped his head again, almost as if he was the sheepish one, lifting it with a gentle gaze, just to say, "Yes. A thousand times yes."

Moments later Stiles was stepping into his space, lured in by the warmth, his hands brushing over the beard he'd been ogling for months. It was incredibly soft. Derek's hair was even softer and Stiles didn't think he ever wanted to take his hands off Derek. Derek, who was peppering kisses to his lips and nipping them to coax quiet whimpers out of Stiles before he traced a path down to Stiles' neck. It was clear to Stiles just exactly what this was as he bared his throat for Derek and clung to his shoulders for dear life.

Stiles shuddered at the tender ministrations, lips smoothing over his skin, the beard tickling, feeling Derek breathe him in and out.

"Der…" He breathes, too weak to finish the name and too powerful all at once, placing a hand on the werewolf's chest so he could lean back a little.

"Yeah?"

"I just want," Stiles started, losing himself in the way he could feel Derek's quickened heartbeat against his palm, quick and so alive. He looked back into Derek's eyes to properly convey his sincerity, breathing out. "I want you to be comfortable. With everything. Like, I want you to tell me when you're not, so I can stop. I don't ever want you to feel like I'm pushing you into something you don't want or don't feel good about at the moment. I don't want you to just do whatever will make me happy. I want-"

"You remember I could literally throw you across the room if I wanted to, right? Physically, you couldn't possibly compete with me if I wanted to stop you," Derek threw in.

"Yes, of course. But I don't ever want it to have to get to that. I just… I want this to be as good for you as it is for me."

Derek knew what he meant and took a breath so he wouldn't argue and hide his insecurities. It wasn't necessary in front of Stiles.

"Okay." He nodded. "I will be open and honest. But you have to, too."

"Deal. Pinky promise?" Stiles raised a fist, pinky outstretched.

Derek hummed, tugging Stiles closer again. "How about we seal it with a kiss instead?"

"Look at you, coming up with the ultimate plan." Stiles grinned and fell back into Derek.

------------ "There is NOTHING!" Stiles groaned loudly and slammed the book shut, his hands flexing above it, trying to restrain himself from picking it up and throwing it across the room.

From across the table, Derek reached over to take his hand gently because that was a thing they did now. Immediately, Stiles deflated, all his energy converting to the heat in his cheeks. Derek rubbed his thumb over the back of Stiles’ hand and looked him over.

“We should call it a night,” he suggested.

Stiles shook his head. “No, we don’t have anything yet. We’ve made no progress. And we can’t keep them chained up forever. Like, we can’t.. we don’t know what to feed them. We don’t know what to do with them period. And they’re up there making those terrible nightmarish sounds and you’re supposed to sleep here - which we both know you won’t even though you’ll pretend and… no, stop looking at me like that.”

Stiles pouted.  “Seriously, stop it. You are not making sense with that face.” Derek’s eyebrows only rose in that weird manner only they could.

“You know what, okay, no. No, hand holding for you with all the judgement.”

And when Stiles started tugging, for the first time ever Stiles saw Derek pout.

“Okay, fine. Fine. We will do the hand holding. But you need to stop… I just want to solve this problem,” Stiles sighed, giving his hand a squeeze. “We want to save their lives you know, so I think this is more important than sleep, more important than the 9 am class. We can make it up with extra work.”

Stiles shook his hand back and forth lightly. “Hm? Hmmmmm? Come on, Der.”

“Der?”

“I don’t see you fighting it. All I see is a smile,” Stiles said in a sing song voice. Derek sighed, all heavy and dramatic and defeated and Stiles jumped up with a happy grin.

“Great! And for that…” he said, skittering over to the other side of the table to smack a kiss to Derek’s cheek. “You get a kiss. That should wake you right up.”

“I was awake the whole time. I was saying it because of you.”

“Mhm,” Stiles said, grinning as he walked over back to his spot. “I see you blushing.”

“Shut up, Stiles, and get to work,” Derek muttered, pulling his book closer again and burying his head in it.

“You can keep trying to hide it but I’ve seen it and it’s engraved in my mind now.” Stiles folded his knees underneath himself on the chair, pulling the book back to himself and flipping it open.

“Go back to researching, Stiles,” Derek said.

“I’ve ne-”

“How to turn arachnes back human after they’ve been bitten,” Derek continued relentlessly, trying to drown Stiles out. “What reverses arachne poison? Transformation potions…”

Stiles rested his chin in his hand, looking over thoughtfully, silent for just a second. “And you’re sure that it’s possible? This might make me sound dumb but what if they’re like you?”

Derek paused in the middle of turning a page. “Because their bite is actually poisonous. And it has to be reversible… since it doesn’t kill them, just transforms them. They’re not like us. They will feed off… anything that moves, even humans. It’s the poison in their veins that does that to them. We have to be able to extract it somehow.”

“That makes sense, I guess. Like Jackson turned back human. Or well, werewolf. Normal,” Stiles hummed, looking back down at his book. “There’s seriously not enough about this anywhere though, like… all I could find was the Greek myth with Athena.” He sighed. “Although Lydia is kind of a goddess, unfortunately we don’t have an actual goddess to just turn them back human with her otherworldly, almighty power… You know, that would actually be the perfect addition to our pack. A goddess. That would be awesome.”

Stiles looked up to find Derek looking at him.

“You do know that the Greek gods had all kinds of stuff going on, right?”

“No, Derek. I’m the dumbass you take me for. I know nothing about any mythology anywhere.”

“Oh my god, Stiles.”

“Relax, I’m not mad,” Stiles threw at him. “But if you’re not sure you can always kiss it better… Oh my god, again with that judgy look. You’re in a mood tonight aren’t you? Too flustered by my presence?

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“Some things really never change.”

--------------- “I feel like a real witch here,” Stiles said, mixing the purplish milky liquid in the salad bowl with a wooden spoon from Derek’s kitchen.

“You can shoot energy bolts from your hands but this makes you feel like a witch?” Lydia questioned from beside him, leaning on the table with one hand, while holding a little glass vial with *something in her other hand. “You’re just stirring.”

“Okay, no. I did like at least half the work here, okay?” Stiles argued.

“Uh huh,” Derek threw in from the other end, where all the books and papers were, far enough from the bowl to avoid any unhappy messes. Hopefully. He was watching intently from afar, ready to jump in and save Stiles from his own clumsiness. Stiles could see the tenseness in his crossed arms. Upstairs, the arachnes were scratching at the floors again. Stiles hadn't been upstairs to check on them, letting the werewolves take over that task, but he kept imagining they were about to come dropping down on their heads any second.

“You all are just haters. Meanwhile I’m here brewing the meanest potion ever like I just graduated top of my class from Hogwarts,” Stiles said, proudly ignoring everything and everyone around him trying to bring him down.

“I can’t believe I forget you’re a nerd sometimes," Lydia sighed.

"You say that like it's an insult but right now it makes me the most powerful person in the room." Reaching over, he took the vial from Lydia's hand to add a drop to the weird mixture. She gave him a look but let the vial slip through her fingers easily.

"That's a bold statement," Lydia said, off-handedly. It prompted Stiles to look between the two other people by him, the badass banshee and the goddamn alpha - who his gaze naturally hung on. He smiled.

"Except for Derek," he threw in then, averting his gaze from Derek's eyes after a moment, when Lydia let out a contemplative noise. Stiles glanced over to see her look over from Derek to him, a curious look I'm her eyes.

"Because he's the alpha. Obviously," he added. "Also, are you sure we're doing this, right? I mean, I'm loving this alchemy shit but this is just… goop. It's not a drinkable potion like at all."

"The thinner it is, the more we actually have to get in them and I don't know about you but I don't want to have to be around those fangs longer than necessary." Lydia shook her head.

Stiles froze and turned to Derek. "And just like that she makes me feel like the stupidest person in the room."

Derek smirked in his oh-so-smug way, like he was saying 'well, duh, Stiles, way to finally catch the fuck on to the damn truth' only in so much less words. Not less sass or cockiness or pushing at Stiles' buttons though and Stiles hates how it makes something in his torso tingle. It was unfair how much more of an effect it now had knowing that there was more meaning behind it. A very kissable meaning.

He almost missed the "All hail, Lydia!" that came from across the room and Stiles quickly ducked his head.

"Shut up. All of you."

"I didn't even say anything," Derek replied and Stiles didn't even have to look to recognize the fond, almost smiling tone.

"You said something with your face," he countered, waving a hand in his general direction, knowing that if he dared look that way his mushy, yearning feelings would all be out there for everyone to see.

"You're still staying something with your face," Lydia then interjected quietly and Stiles glanced to her sharply, seeing the narrowed eyes directed at Derek. Oh, she was definitely catching on - which, totally nerve wracking and scary because whatever this thing between them was, it was very fresh and possibly quite fragile.

Derek, however, met Lydia's scrutinizing gaze with one of ease and confidence, closing the case with a simple, unspoken 'what about it?'. The quick hint of a smile the alpha then threw Stiles' way did nothing to calm his racing heartbeat but everything to make him feel settled and… just right. "This isn't too easy, right?" Stiles asked half an hour later when they had the whole pack upstairs, his own hands wrapped around a small bottle, filled only halfway up, while the others had their arms wrapped around the arachnes, like they were wrestling, trying to hold them down without getting bitten or wrapped up in a sticky, somehow foul-smelling web. It was like something had died in there, if you asked Stiles. He didn't dare ask what if was like for the wolves.

In afterthought - when he received nothing but glares and frustrated looks, even from Lydia, who was simply here to observe for scientific purposes - it had not been /that/ easy... Especially when it was time for Stiles to get all up close and personal with the appendages these creatures called mouths, pincers moving incessantly. He grimaced, now wishing they had thought of finding a way to sedate them. Then again, who knew if it might have counteracted with the spell.

"Come on, Stiles. How long do you expect me to keep my body all up against this," Erica complained. It was quite intriguing how she didn't even need to try so hard anymore to sound like Derek and instead of getting stressed by the pressure all he felt was pride at the proof of Derek's progress as an alpha. They were looking up to him, taking on his mannerisms. Stiles felt like a proud parent himself - NOT that he was implying his relationship with Derek was in any way that serious or anything, it was just-

"Stiles!"

"Right, right, I'm on it!" He said with a quick shake of his head and a sigh and then he was off, stepping forward to face the threat.

Somehow, it was entirely more challenging to get this task done than it has been to subdue the arachnes in the first place and Stiles wished he didn't have to intensely stare at the stomach-turning chops. Unlike the werewolf canines, there was absolutely nothing sexy about this and he never wanted to find out what it would be like to be bitten by them. He would prefer it if no one ever tried to take a bite of him, thank you very much. Except, well, if Derek wanted to use his teeth for some hot and steamy times, Stiles would probably be very into that.

Alas, those were thoughts for another day, or at the very least other time of day, because Stiles did not want the pack to smell any kind of arousal in a situation like this. That would just make for a supremely awkward situation. So, no. Stiles got in and out as fast he could, pouring what would hopefully be enough potion into each of the two mouths. It was only a matter of seconds then, after he stepped back and they made sure the solution wasn't about to be spat up, that the entire pack was on the other end of the room, just... waiting?

The seconds ticked by in silence - of course, aside from the hissing and clicking and struggling and scratching of the arachnes. Really, Stiles didn't get where they got all that energy from.

"So, uh… are we sure this spell is actually gonna work or…?" Stiles after a good minute or two, the nagging, impatient fear of failure gnawing at his stomach.

“Unless we actually have one of the queens,”  Lydia muttered, her arms crossed  as she gazed at the unchanging scene before them.

Derek shook his head. “No. They would be bigger, more powerful. More… non-human.”

“Wait, this is the kid-friendly version?” Stiles shuddered.

“Shouldn’t we go out and find the queen then and kill it?” Isaac threw in with a confused expression.

Again, Derek shook his head. “If it was close we would know it. We’d have a lot more than just two of them on our hands. This one must have just gotten close enough to feel the Nemeton’s pull and wandered over. The queen should be nested somewhere discreet and safe, laying her eggs. We’re not going to go chasing after a problem we don’t need.”

Looking round at the pale and stricken faces, Stiles could tell that everyone instantly agreed with their alpha. They had enough things to worry about here with the Nemeton after all. And college. Which… they would have some catching up to do this weekend.

“Look! Something is happening!” Erica exclaimed, throwing out an arm to point at the the arachne that had stilled and was now started to shake.

While they had all gotten used to werewolf transformations at this point, this one was all too different to not be intriguing - even if Stiles could once again feel his stomach turn over.

Relief swept through the room when it was finally done and dazed very human eyes blinked up at them. Stiles grabbed one of the prepared blankets and approached the poor young brunet male he had seen in psychology class before. Meanwhile Boyd was already loosening the binds they had restricted him with.

“You’re good,” Stiles reassured him, laying the blanket around his shoulders with a soft smile. He turned to give Derek a look, who appeared just as pleased their plan had worked. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

------------

They’d agreed to part ways and take care of themselves for the rest of the evening, after giving the two poor bite victims some story they would be able to recover with and sent them back on their way home. Derek and Stiles had specifically agreed to get some sleep.

But Stiles knew the sourwolf all too well.

As he pulled open the loft door open, he found Derek standing right behind it, arms crossed and a stern look on his face.

“What are you doing here? It’s past 1 am." Derek asked, as if Stiles was just one of the pups he could boss around. Like they hadn’t just kissed a few hours back. He wasn’t moving out of the way even when Stiles tried to urge him back by walking forward. Stiles just ended up close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of Derek and suddenly all he wanted to do was get even closer, to feel Derek against him.

As unwavering as Derek’s body was, his eyes softened with interest. Stiles’ lips quirked up, immediately advancing on the ground he’d won. He inched closer, so there was just barely a sliver of space between them.

“Is it past my bed time, alpha?” Stiles asked, voice lowered and breathy, nothing but suggestive, while he gave those ocean eyes a faux innocent look. “Are you going to send me to bed?”

Stiles tugged at the neckline of his shirt, as if he was fixing it, watching Derek’s gaze flicker down as his jaw clenched. “Undress me…” he continued, biting down on his lip and dragging it out from between his teeth with an audible breath. “Tuck me in reaal tight-”

Suddenly Stiles found himself being shoved back with a hand in his face.

“Ooomph!” Stiles staggered back for a second but Derek’s palm was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

“You are the worst,” Derek told him as he turned to walk away and Stiles could have taken it to heart if it wasn’t for the fact that there was definitely a tinge of pink at the tip of Derek’s ears and he was inviting him in instead of shutting the door in his face.

“That was my face, asshole! It’s my best feature. Luckily, you can’t ruin perfection.” Stiles stepped in with a successful grin, drinking in the sight of Derek’s soft look, consisting of sweatpants and a worn T-shirt. He closed the door behind him and followed Derek into the room, over to the windows under the crescent moon. Stiles knew what the not-so-sneaky alpha was doing.

Derek raised an eyebrow. “That’s your best feature? That’s unfortunate,” he muttered.

“Jokes on you. You’re the one attracted to this.” Stiles shrugged, countering with an easy smile to Derek’s relenting sigh.

“Touche,” and Stiles couldn’t help the way his stomach tingled at the way Derek was so openly admitting it. “Why are you here, though? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Mmm, right,” Stiles nodded, turning away so he could head over to the dining table, which clearly had Derek’s open text- and notebooks, as well as his laptop. He set down his bag next to them, pointedly. “Because you’re obviously holding yourself to our agreement yourself.”

Derek withered guiltily beneath the look Stiles threw him. He shrugged, walking closer and tapping a finger on the tabletop.

“Getting back into all of this… isn’t as easy as I thought. I have to work harder to keep up,” he admitted. “I can’t just treat it lightly.”

Derek was clamming up a little. Stiles could tell by the way he lowered his gaze and the corner’s of his mouth pulled downward. The air around him just screamed awkwardness and discomfort. Derek had come a long, long way from when Stiles had met the werewolf, all hard lines and glares and- not that he didn’t still have hard angles like those of his jaw and cheekbones and muscles and- but the point was, he’d grown more into a cocky, self-assured jock, Peter had told many a story about Derek in his teen years. It was great to see him become more in tune with his emotions, accepting them the same way he accepted his wolf - wholeheartedly.

He was stable now, a great alpha, who knew to pause and reflect and do the best for his pack, rather than run on anger and sacrifice himself any chance he got.

Stiles wasn’t going to make a big deal about this insecurity. It was a big deal after all, starting up school again, after everything he’d been through. It just showed how far he’d come. Derek was allowed to feel scared. Stiles hopped up on the table casually.

“I think you’re treating this too heavily,” he said, wise-old-man-style. To which, of course, Derek rolled his eyes.

“That’s not a thing.”

“Of course it’s a thing!”

“It’s not a thing you say.”

“But it’s a thing you do,” Stiles pointed out and it was not something Derek could dispute. Even though he didn’t make it as obvious as Stiles with his non-stop rambling and infinite possibilities and plans, Derek would overthink just as badly, if not worse, allowing it to overwhelm him and render him silent and immobile.

“So, what, you came here to send me to bed?” Derek asked, parroting Stiles' words but not bothering to try and seduce Stiles in retaliation - which was kind of a bummer, if you asked Stiles.

Stiles straightened. “Is that a possibility? Because if so, then yes. Absolutely.”

“So you can join me there?” Derek taunted, crossing his arms, as if he was so sure Stiles only wanted to be with him to get into his pants.

“Ideally, yes. One day. Absolutely. Or now for uh, strictly sleeping purposes. Of the unconscious kind. No physical contact necessary. No dicks involved." Stiles bit down on his bottom lip, this time just to shut himself up, feeling the embarrassment and excitement - should one call it embitement? - that specific, giddy feeling he got when he looked into Derek's eyes to find them already taking him in, pulling him in like a whirlpool. And Stiles didn't really have anything to hold him back, ready to jump, ready to drown.

Derek must have felt the same thing because he stepped closer, solidifying the electricity between them. Stiles' fingers were tingling again and he resisted the urge to hide them under his thighs. Here Derek was, staring at him with such emotion, such trust - and if that wasn't the thing that made Stiles' heart leap most of all, that Derek was willing to give himself to him, to offer himself up, weaknesses and strengths alike, just for Stiles. Well, then Stiles could let his magic light Sparks around them and give their romantic scenes some Hollywood flair. There was no reason to hide their special powers. Not from each other.

"Does that mean you're not a cuddler?" Derek asked, amusement framing his words so snugly as if he'd never spoke a serious syllable in his life.

Stiles snorted. "Oh, I am an octopus in bed. Once I've got my arms around you, you're not going anywhere."

"Octopus in bed, huh?" Derek asked, and Stiles could already hear the giggle that was about to come out of his mouth.

"Don't you dare start with-"

"You must have been holding out on me. I didn't know you could shape shift... Or that you were into that kind of thing," Derek continued relentlessly, close enough now to lay a hand on Stiles' knee. The jolt that ran through him was deliciously warm and that hot as hell smirk on such a gorgeous face and all that cocky confidence was so not fair, but two could play that game. Stiles was nothing if not competitive (when he wanted to be that was).

"-that. Okay, you know what, you're the one who seems surprisingly into it, seeing as you're the one digging deeper into it. Is it telling about our relationship that you're trying to seduce me while talking about tentacle porn before out first date," Stiles asked, cocking his head.

"You said it, not me." Derek quickly shook his head, the slightest bit horrified, but in the next moment they were both laughing lightly.

"I guess nothing about our relationship could be considered normal, though, seeing as we're not," Stiles then said thoughtfully.

Derek shuffled closer, having Stiles part his knees so he could stand between them, his second hand also finding a thigh to rest on.

"Does that bother you?" He asked, shifting to sincerity in the blink of an eye, making Stiles smile softly.

Stiles lifted his arms to wrap them around Derek's neck, pulling him closer.

"Nope," he replied easily. "I mean, come on. There's literally magic in the air around us, how cool is that?" Stiles motioned around before smiling mischievously. "And also I can't wait to make you lose control, maybe give me some of those steamy Alpha eyes with my great powers of seduction."

Stiles arched closer, bringing them nose to nose. Derek hummed, flashing said eyes at Stiles for just a second.

"You think you could make me lose control?"

"Oh, absolutely. I'm your kryptonite, Hale."

But Derek shook his head. "You're my anchor. You make me stronger, not weaker."

"Just you wait, oh great alpha," Stiles mused, wrapping his legs around Derek's for more contact, reveling in the soft exhale he felt Derek make. "I'm totally going to make you weak in the knees."

With that he surged forward for a kiss, a slow one but not without intention, showing Derek just how much he meant it with a little nip. He let Derek pull away a minute later, breathing open-mouthed, watching those fractal eyes flicker down and up with the small shake of his head.

"I would never hurt you," Derek breathed, hands coming to grasp Stiles' waist, holding him fast with a caring grip, proving how safe and secure he could keep him.

"I know." Stiles' smile widened in full reassurance as he trailed his own fingers against Derek's nape and felt a shiver run through the man, the red glinting through in his eyes. He grinned successfully. "I win."

Derek let out a light growl, which only really supported Stiles' point, and Stiles knew he would definitely make sure to win more often if this was the prize he got, Derek pulling him flush against himself and kissing him like he had something to prove, like there was a hunger in him only Stiles could sate. It was like being set on fire - but in a good way - his body burning up with endorphins, adrenaline, blood rushing, pleasure sparking and best of all, knowing Derek felt the same with the urgency of his lips and tongue, the little sounds he made and the roll of his hips.

It wasn't long before he was swept up, body curling around Derek's, strong arms securely around him and he was being carried off to the bedroom. Not quite a happily ever after on a horseback into the sunset, but a happily ever after nevertheless, one Stiles wouldn't trade for anything in the world.