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Stiles liked to think that he was good at reading people. Sure, Derek Hale scared the shit out of him, but under the surface Stiles knew that it was mostly bravado. Derek Hale didn’t want to let anyone in, he kept everyone at an arm’s length and with good reason. If Stiles’ family had died in a fire, by arson, he wouldn’t trust anyone either.
He knew the moment that Derek showed up in his room even though he had a warrant out for his arrest that Derek had no one else to go to. As he pushed Stiles against the door, Stiles’ heartbeat skyrocketing, Stiles knew that Derek had sought him out for help. But he had no intention of just rolling over for him. No way he was fucking rolling over and exposing his neck like he was some werewolf. He was a human and there was no way he was going to be controlled by someone.
“Yeah, that’s right. If I’m harboring your fugitive ass it’s my house, my rules buddy.” Stiles said, hoping his voice sounded as even as he was trying to make it. He added a slight hit to the shoulder for finesse. When Derek nodded, Stiles couldn’t help but feel accomplished.
Derek had bowed down to him. Sure it was something small, miniscule even, but still. Not sure what to do with himself, Stiles tugged lightly on Derek’s jacket and smiled. Derek made a sudden movement and Stiles flinched. One step ahead, two steps back. Great.
Derek wasn’t going to let him in without trust. And Derek didn’t trust anyone. So Stiles waited, he was good at waiting. If he could wait for Lydia, he could wait for Derek to trust him.
“I really fucking think that you need to stop with turning wayward youths into your scooby gang.” Stiles said, exasperated. Derek glared at him, but said nothing. Always with the saying nothing. He just couldn’t get a rise out of him, no matter how he tried. Sure, he could get a physical reaction from Derek, but never an emotional one. Always with the slamming against walls, hitting his head against steering wheels, gripping his neck, shoving him as they walked. Stiles could handle physicality, he played fucking lacrosse. That wasn’t the point. The point was, was that Stiles needed a connection in order to get in.
“I think you should mind your own business.” Derek seethed, not even looking at Stiles. Stiles rolled his eyes dramatically.
“It is my business, Derek. You, your pack, Scott... I’m not backing off so just include me already.” Stiles’ voice was rising, he couldn’t help it. Derek was so frustrating, the wall he built up around himself was so thick that not even a bulldozer could knock it down.
“You aren’t pack.” Derek whispered. Stiles shoved him, hard. Maybe physicality was what Derek wanted, needed. He may be the alpha, but Stiles was no minion. “What are you doing?” Derek said, moving an inch as Stiles pushed him.
“If I’m not part of this pack, then fuck it if I am helping your sorry ass anymore.” Stiles said through gritted teeth. He left, then. He left because fuck it all, he was just a teenager. He had to think about non-supernatural shit. He had school work, lacrosse. He had a boring life with mundane tasks to get back to. He had to make his father dinner, he had to make sure he didn’t eat something that would kill him in the long run.
He didn’t have time to deal with Derek and his lack of emotions.
Derek let him go, and why wouldn’t he? This was no fairy tale, despite Stiles’ being surrounded by werewolves and giant lizards who killed. People just let others walk away. They didn’t go after them.
It made Stiles angry.
Whenever he was forced to be around Derek, he ignored him. Childish route? Yes. Childish and petty, but he wasn’t rolling over for the alpha. No way.
Derek came to him at night, coming through the window that Stiles just so happened to always leave unlocked just in case. It was late, but the time didn’t matter. Derek was in his room, had come to him.
“Well?” Stiles asked, seated at his desk in only pajama pants. Derek was silent, just staring at him.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” Derek said, which made Stiles smile.
“Contacts.” Stiles said in an answer. He looked down, suddenly self conscious. Why the fuck should he be? It wasn’t like he-
Stiles gulped. He was angry with Derek because he wouldn’t let him in, because he didn’t care about him. Stiles laughed out loud to himself, which made Derek stalk over to him, reach his hand out. Stiles was pretty sure if he was wearing a shirt that Derek would have pulled him out of his chair by it. Like this, Derek had nothing to grip.
“What is with you and flinging me around?” Stiles asked, biting his bottom lip, standing.
“You frustrate me.” Derek answered. Stiles a ‘no shit really?’ face.
“Yeah, well. Likewise buddy.” Stiles said, sighing. “You don’t let anyone in, which I totally get. That is great that you don’t think you need anyone to be a leader. Leaders set themselves apart from others. Being in charge is lonely, with responsibility landing solely on you. But what you need to realize is that you can’t simply do it on your own.” Derek scoffed. “You’re not listening to me. If you hold everything inside you’re just going to explode and like, do something rash.”
“Rash like trust a sixteen year old?” Stiles shut his mouth, closing his eyes.
“Fuck off, Derek.” Stiles whispered, sitting back down in his chair, pretending he was doing school work. As far as he was considered their conversation was over. It was over because he said it was. Derek left without another word.
Stiles wishes he could put their exchange in his win column of times he topped Derek, but he couldn’t. Their conversation left a stale taste in his mouth.
Getting beat up to send Scott and the pack a message? Not Stiles’ top five favorite moments. Seeing the look on Derek’s face when he saw what they did to Stiles? Well, that face told Stiles a lot. It told him that Derek was not the emotionless bastard that he had feared that he could be.
Derek wanted to trust people, but people kept screwing him over. They kept lying to them, betraying them. How was he supposed to keep putting himself out there if no one did the same for him? Stiles couldn’t even meet Derek’s gaze. Even Scott used Derek.
“Erica and Boyd didn’t give you up.” Stiles whispered, clearing his throat. Derek nodded, once. So closed off, no way of getting in. Stiles clenched his jaw, looking to the ceiling. “Neither did I.”
“Stiles-”
“Look, Derek. I got the shit beat out of me,” Stiles said, nonchalantly like it was no big deal but when really: it was a fucking big deal. “I didn’t give you up. They let me go as a message. They will hurt anyone to get to you.”
“You need to stay out of all this, then.” Derek said, growling. Stiles laughed. As if it was that easy. Drop all this bullshit and go back to a normal life.
“That isn’t happening.” Stiles whispered. “Because as scary all this shit is, as fucked up it has made me, I am not ditching you guys. I am not leaving you to do this alone.”
Derek was standing close to him, very close. Stiles didn’t back up, didn’t cower. “You can’t do it alone, Derek.”
“Yes, I can.” Stiles put a hand on Derek’s chest, shoving him.
“Stop being a fucking idiot.” Stiles hissed, his fist clenching Derek’s shirt tight, tugging on him. If they were surrounded by the others, Stiles was sure Derek would have pinned him to the ground in anger, making sure to show his rank in the pack. Human or not, Stiles was walking a thin line, pushing Derek around. Stiles didn’t care.
The funny thing was, Derek let Stiles shove him, let Stiles grip his shirt then ram him against a wall. Stiles was panting, his pupils blown from the sense of power over Derek. “Let me in.” Stiles said through clenched teeth.
A noise escaped from Derek, like a low whimper. Stiles wasn’t sure what to think of it, so he stepped forward, pressing his thigh between Derek’s legs tentatively, testing. Derek does nothing. Stiles tilted his head, thinking. He slid his hand down, palm against Derek’s stomach.
Miraculously, Stiles watched Derek turn his head, exposing his neck to Stiles. Eyes widening, Stiles leaned in closing his eyes as his nose touched Derek’s skin. Slowly, he pressed his lips against his neck, opening his mouth. His teeth scraped against Derek’s flesh, sending a shiver down his own spine. It felt right, felt like that was what he needed to do. Derek let out a moan, his hands grabbing hold of Stiles’ waist, gripping him tight. Stiles marked Derek’s neck, moving his mouth, tasting him, engulfing himself in Derek’s scent. Eventually, he backed away enough so that he could look Derek in the eyes. Derek’s pupils were blown, his breathing staggered.
“What just happened?” Stiles asked, ruining the moment. He could feel his own arousal, and Derek’s as their bodies were pressed together. Derek sighed, not breaking eye contact.
“I’m submitting, Stiles.” Derek whispered. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat for a split second before Derek’s lips were on his. Stiles’ hands reached up, cupping Derek’s face as the kiss deepened. Then, he applied pressure, gripping Derek’s jaw, making sure Derek knew who had who pinned against the wall.
Sure, Stiles knew he was weaker, a thousand times weaker, than Derek but that wasn’t the fucking point, now was it? The point was Derek had rolled over for him. That he had the power here. Derek needed someone to submit to, someone not in his pack. In his pack, he was the alpha. But here, alone, he wanted Stiles to be in charge. He needed Stiles to take charge.
“That is all I needed to hear.” Stiles answered, kissing Derek, their lips crashing together, his fingers raking through Derek’s hair as Derek lifted Stiles, stepping away from the wall easily as Stiles’ legs wrapped around Derek’s waist.
Derek held Stiles as if he weighed nothing, walking him over to the bed where they landed with a bounce. Derek, his back on the bed, Stiles straddling him. They stayed like that, Stiles holding Derek down, even pinning his hands above his head at one point as he marked his skin.
Derek was his, after all. His.