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“Where is Derek Hale now?”
The voice came somewhere from over Stiles’ left shoulder. His head lolled to the side, trying to follow the voice that sounded distant and muffled when pain shot through him. There was a sharp burst of agony at the base of Stiles’ skull because of the small movement and he froze, letting his head drop back down against his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut to stave off the wave of nausea that came over him. Stiles distantly noted that every part of his body ached, and he vaguely recalled being stuffed into some kind of trunk, (which was not an experience he had wanted to repeat), before blacking out. He released a slow breath and leaned forwards, pulling against the restraints that held him tightly in place.
Dread coiled in his chest as he slumped back against what he presumed was a tree trunk if the bark digging into his back and arms was anything to go by. He flexed his fingers to regain some life to them and brushed his fingers against dirt.
Stiles risked a glance around himself, squinting into a wooded area that was far too dark for human eyes to be of any use to make out anything else other than thick, dense trees.
“Where is, Derek Hale?” The question was repeated with the same intensity as the first time.
A hard kick to Stiles’ foot did nothing to jog his memory and he merely blinked up at the person now stood in front of him. He could just see the makings of a scruffy, overgrown beard and beefy arms that were crossed over a broad chest. Whoever they were had clearly lost any patience they potentially had while Stiles had been unconscious.
Annoyance flared in Stiles’ chest at the entire situation, starting with the person in front of him that had started to growl as if that would help his intimidation factor. Stiles wanted to laugh. No one ever wanted to kidnap him for him, no. It always had something to do with that goddamned overly buff, brooding werewolf that was coincidentally nowhere to find as per usual when these situations occurred. “I haven’t the faintest idea.” He ground out, bitterness creeping up on him at the mere thought of said werewolf before he shifted his stare to the sky, dismissing his wannabe kidnapper with a forced ease he had down to a fine art. There were general mumbles of annoyance around him that Stiles resolutely ignored by trying to discern what time it was by using the stars- though Stiles had little to no knowledge on the subject and half his view was blocked by looming trees.
What had been mumbles quickly turned into muttered, irritated comments.
Stiles felt his heart jump at the increase in volume before forcing it back to a steady pace. He didn’t care if he wasn’t behaving like the ideal kidnappee because they shouldn’t have kidnapped him in the first place! He took a small breath and fought the urge to roll his eyes.
Maybe they should have found someone more cooperative.
All Stiles wanted was to be dropped back where they found him, in his driveway next to his beloved jeep whose engine was probably still running and draining the battery. He knew no one would be looking for him any time soon; his dad worked the nightshift and wouldn't be home for another couple hours, thinking Stiles was safe and sound in bed.
And it wasn’t like the pack kept tabs on him recently.
There would be no late-night visits or midnight texts to question why his jeep was switched on and empty, or why he wasn’t in school the next day.
When nobody made a move to untie him and Stiles had given up on trying to figure out the time, he resigned himself to listening to his captors argue amongst themselves. “Is that credible?” Someone off to his right asked, slightly hesitant. Stiles cocked his head in consideration, debating his truthfulness himself before shrugging, having internally decided to wait until his head stopped throbbing before pondering any further questions. His eyes danced around the area looking for inspiration for an escape plan while he tugged idly at the rope on his wrists to test its strength; he frowned in annoyance when there was no give.
“It’s true.” He sighed and tried to get comfortable despite the circumstance.
No one had any idea where Derek had slunk off too the past few months and Stiles had given up on trying to track him after the first month was a bust. All he did know was that everything had gone wrong not too long after he had just up and left- and when Stiles called? No answer.
He tried to tell himself it didn’t sting as much as it did.
“You’re the person he loves!” The one in front of him- Beardy, Stiles declared mentally- announced in frustration as if he was facing down a difficult puzzle.
Stiles winced at the inadvertent jab and shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“He’s lying.” Another said- a third one? Their voices were hard to distinguish, and Stiles blamed the concussion he potentially had.
“Derek Hale does not and has not ever loved me.” Stiles hissed, feeling on show like his insides had been ripped open. “I’m not lying.” He added, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
“He isn’t lying.” Someone agreed and Stiles felt vindicated. “His heartbeat is steady.”
Beardy growled lowly in his chest before his eyes flashed a bright and vivid crimson; Stiles refused to flinch back at the ridiculous display. He didn’t know what supposed issue they had with Derek, but Stiles knew for damn sure that it wasn’t his problem. He had homework and self-loathing to do in the peace and quiet of his bedroom which was currently being interrupted by the ill-attempt of trying to lure Derek Hale out of whatever hole he was hiding in- with him as bait of all people! Stiles wanted to scream.
“This is a trick.” Was announced suddenly. Stiles made a face.
“No. It isn’t.”
If they were going to make him sit, tied up to a tree for hours then the least they could do was change the topic of conversation because he did not want to be reminded of Derek Hale. It had taken him weeks of radio silence after he sent his final voice message to stamp down the urge to reach for his phone every two minutes and click on Derek’s contact- and Stiles had only just stopped thinking about the man every day. Because all he had wanted was someone who wouldn’t judge him for what he did. So, he had called. It went to voicemail, and Stiles had broken down on the message he left before his final hope- his potentially only friend, and something more- hadn't cared enough to answer. And maybe, just maybe, Stiles hated himself for continuing to love Derek despite the blatant abandonment.
There was a part of Stiles that wondered if he knew how much Derek leaving was going to hurt, like a festering wound that never healed, if he would he have let himself get so attached.
“My information is correct. You’re the man who loves Derek Hale.”
Stiles was snapped out of his internal analysis of his feelings, (a usual occurrence most days), by the voices around him and the now painful pins and needles sensation in his fingertips.
He heaved in a breath and laughed hollowly once the words registered in his brain. “Yes, I am. I’ve never denied it.” It was obvious to everyone in the pack that Stiles had some strange attachment to Derek, even if none of them knew exactly what it was and the wolf himself remained blind to it. “But whoever said he loves me back?” He asked, the idea a laughable notion. “He’s Derek Hale. He doesn’t go around falling in love with breakable humans like me. And if you think he’s anything like that, could ever feel anything like that for me, then you haven’t the first idea of what you’re dealing with.” Stiles felt his heart break even more- something he thought was impossible- at his own words.
“He is the perfect bait.” Stiles’ head moved to the side when a woman stepped forwards and finally into his line of vision. “When this man is in danger, Hale will always come-”
“Oh my god, you are a moron.” He groaned, feeling his anger spike because no one was listening to him. No one ever listened and Stiles refused to let them believe something that could never be true. “No, he won’t.” He couldn’t fathom how after everything he said, they still believed Derek would come for him- their lack of basic comprehension was astounding.
“He’s probably already here.” The other one said.
There was a light rustling, as if they were peering around and looking into the surrounding trees. “No, he isn’t. Of course, he isn’t!” Stiles yelled, wriggling around in his bounds.
“Possibly in this very forest-”
“Well, go on!” Stiles screamed and leaned as far forwards as possible; he felt slightly manic at the hope blooming in his chest when he knew, deep down, it was pointless. “Look then! Go on why don’t you?” He spat at them, ignoring the hairs on his arms standing on end at the feeling of being watched as he shook his head repeatedly, denying everything they said to him. “Look for an eternally grouchy expression and a stupid leather jacket, you can’t miss him!” He snapped, letting his feelings finally pour out of him. Twigs snapped off to the side, but Stiles was too emotional to notice the werewolves around him stiffen at the sharp, noise. “Go on! Search the whole damned town. He’s not here. God knows where he is right now, but I promise you, he’s doing whatever the hell he wants and not giving a damn about me! And I’m just fine with that!” Stiles blinked back a round of tears as his chest heaved.
He took in a long breath and steeled himself.
“When you love Derek Hale, it’s like loving the stars themselves. You don’t expect a sunset to admire you back.” He bit down hard on his trembling lip as he forced out the next words, more for himself than the wolves around him. “And if I happen to find myself in danger, let me tell you, he is not stupid enough, or sentimental enough, and he is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing in it with me!”
“Stiles.”
Silence. The air in Stiles’ lungs stuttered on its way out and he stared down at the forest floor, his jaw having snapped shut with an audible click at the new and very familiar voice. “You asshole.” He muttered, trying to ignore the glaring relief that flowed though him at the mere sound of Derek’s voice, quickly followed by the sight of him when he crouched down beside him. His claws extended and Stiles watched them disappear; the ropes loosened completely.
“Don’t say anything.”
“Stars themselves huh?”
“Shut up.” He groaned, allowing Derek to hoist him to his feet. The brief contact made his skin tingle. “I was just keeping them talking.”
Derek frowned, hearing the inconsistency in Stiles’ heartrate. His own heart twisted painfully when Stiles avoided his eyes for more than a second at a time, looking everywhere but at him. He knew leaving had been a bad decision, but it was the only one he thought he could make. Derek opened his mouth to speak, or possibly start begging for Stiles to just look at him, when he was interrupted. “What is this conversation? Explain.” Stiles rolled his eyes.
“You,” He gestured broadly to all three, “keep out of this.”
“We need to get out of here.” Derek shifted closer to Stiles, anticipating some kind of attack.
Stiles clenched his teeth and tried not to hyperfocus on the way Derek was breathing down his neck or how his fingers, slowly coming back to life, itched to grab a fistful of that god-awful leather jacket and never let go again in case he disappeared in front of his very eyes.
Instead, he steeled himself and grabbed a broken branch from the ground; he weighed it in his hands for a moment. “This conversation is not over.” Before Derek could react, Stiles swung.
One of the wolves made a sickening noise before they dropped to the ground and Derek jumped into action to finish the job off whilst Stiles instinctively watched his back (he vehemently ignored how easy it was to fight beside Derek again, falling back into their familiar routine). His eyes were wide as he took in Beardy and lackey number two. One of them lunged but Stiles dodged and was grateful for all the stupid training his dad had put him through when he found out about the supernatural world- he just wished his dad had also gifted him a weapon of some kind. Alas, Derek would have to do.
On cue Derek turned and slashed one of the unnamed werewolves with his claws, causing a spray of blood across the ground. Then everything seemingly paused.
The remaining wolves stood in shock at the sight of one of their pack bleeding out.
“Leave.” Derek ordered, slightly slurred around his fangs.
Stiles almost passed out from the relief when they grabbed their fallen pack member and took off into the trees. He dropped the branch to the ground, uncaring of where it landed as the adrenaline rush that had kept him moving suddenly dissipated. “Stiles.”
“Why did you come back?”
Exhaustion slowly seeped into Stiles as he put a good stretch of distance between himself and Derek who stood awkwardly, features now fully human again. Stiles felt far too exposed to be having such an emotional conversation, but he needed to know the answer. He forced himself to meet Derek’s eyes and felt his chest constrict at the sight of the man; he hated that Derek looked the same when Stiles felt so painfully different on a fundamental level since the last time that they’d been together. “You called.”
Stiles felt like he couldn’t breathe. He stared hard at Derek.
“And because it was you.” Derek continued, taking Stiles’ silence as a cue to keep going. “And I never realised how badly I needed you. There hasn’t been a day that has gone by where I haven’t stopped thinking about you- I missed you. But I stayed away to keep you safe. I thought you’d be safe, I thought Scott-” Stiles flinched at the name of his best friend and Derek stole a breath of air to steel his own anger as he remembered the teary voice on his phone, “- I thought you’d be better without me. Happier.”
“I wasn’t.” Stiles snapped, though it lacked real heat. His hands trembled by his sides, and he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I was miserable and alone.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Stiles. I’ll never stop making it up to you.”
“Just, promise me. Promise me I wasn’t the only one hurting.”
“I promise.” Derek’s voice broke when he took a step towards Stiles, unsure whether he should reach for him or not when Stiles felt his resolve crumble and he closed the distance between them, burying himself into Derek’s chest. He breathed in the usual smell of leather and something that was inherently Derek, finally feeling settled after months of feeling off kilter. Derek clung to Stiles like he’d never let go and ducked his head into the crook of his neck, whispering things that weren’t audible to Stiles’ ears but made him shiver all the same.
“No leaving me again sourwolf. Alright?” Stiles’ voice wobbled and Derek could feel the tears on his neck; he choked back his own at being the cause of them. He nodded firmly.
“I love you.” The words were an invisible weight off his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Stiles fisted his hands into Derek’s jacket. “Me neither.” He released a breath he never knew he was holding onto. “God, I love you too.”