Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Derek had gone for a run, and it had felt good. He liked his pack, he did, but sometimes they were just so loud. Boyd at least was quiet when they worked out, but Erica — he adored her — but hearing about how much running hurt her breasts was always a bit weird.

The advantage of having a pack of teenagers was that no one wanted to run at five thirty in the morning and he could have quiet.

No talk of boob rash, or why won't Danny look at me (which he swore if Isaac said the name Danny one more time, he was going to think really hard about doing something about it), and most importantly no having Scott lecture him about how you can't kill people. Scott wasn't even in his pack, but sometimes just showed up during work outs to lecture him.

Derek didn't kill people, he killed monsters. That just sometimes were people.

Scott needed to accept death more, it would make everyone's life so much easier.

Derek wasn't even a morning person, but he had become one just for this peace and quiet. He remembered Laura talking about her one day future pack and how carefully she would pick everyone, because they would become her whole world, and you don't want to be stuck with morons.

He really should have remembered that conversation.

But also as much as they all drove him crazy, he did enjoy them. Just wished they would learn to enjoy the quiet. He headed into the loft and oh look, no quiet. He could hear talking; squabbling, it was definitely squabbling.

Derek sighed and debated going for a second run, but he hadn't survived his life to run from teenagers bickering. He pulled open the loft door and stared.

"Scott, why are you sitting on Stiles?"

He knew they were close, but he didn't think they had that sort of relationship. Had Scott broken up with Allison? That would be for the best, but he knew enough not to comment on relationships like that. He had learned that lesson. It was enough that he had to deal with how horny they all smelled, all the damn time.

He tilted his head a bit. There was also a gym bag on the floor next to Scott. Maybe they were here to work out.

"Yeah, Scott, why are you sitting on Stiles?" Stiles also asked. "Because Stiles is fine, no matter what your mom says."

"You might not be!" Scott replied. "Look, Derek, nothing is trying to kill us right now, right?"

"No?" Derek was confused. "Unless you are here to try to kill me again, but that wouldn't explain the sitting on Stiles. Are you a couple now and this is how you tell me? Thanks, I guess? I don't care?" The scent of revulsion coming off of both of them, suggested perhaps he was wrong. "Why are you here?" He just wanted a shower. Some food. And he had a feeling this was about to wreck his plans for a day of ignoring the world and reading.

"So nothing is trying to kill us, which is great! But also something might right now be killing Stiles."

"Dude!" Stiles was squirming, but could not push Scott off. "I'm not dying." They started bickering again, and it was too early for this.

"Enough!" Derek roared, alpha eyes flashing. "What is going on?"

"Stiles might have chicken pox."

Derek closed his eyes. Counted to twenty, hoped somehow they would just disappear, but when he opened his eyes they were both still there. "And that explains why you are sitting on him. In my home."

"I don't have chicken pox. I'm vaccinated!" Stiles had stopped fighting and just sat there. "You can get off me, you are heavy."

"Are you actually going to stay put?"

"Yeah," Stiles said. Derek heard the lie, but somehow Scott didn't. When Scott got up, Stiles bolted which was stupid because Derek caught him, and tossed him onto the couch. Which wait, he should have let Stiles run and barred the door after Scott chased him.

But prey had moved, so Derek caught it.

"Come on, man," Stiles grumbled but stayed put. "I'm fine."

"We don't know that yet," Scott protested. "Derek, can we talk - outside?"

"No," Derek did not want that conversation, because he had a feeling it was going to ruin his quiet. "I'm taking a me day." Erica had taught him that phrase, maybe it would work on Scott. Stiles snickered and Scott just pulled him outside.

Fuck.

"Look." Scott began and stopped.

"Where do I need to look?" Derek sighed, because this was going to be a thing.

"What, no. Okay so, Stiles is a good guy."

"Is he?" Derek had to ask. Because Stiles was a lot of things and he supposed good guy might be in there. That got him a flat look, which just made Scott look constipated. "Fine, go on."

"He got new neighbours a few days ago and they were moving in, couple kids. Who were being in the way, so he played with them for a few hours to distract them, let the moving happen. Fine, he got a plate of cookies and twenty bucks for helping out, so win. Only one of the kids fell out of the tree this morning. Stiles took him to the hospital to get stitches. Turns out the kid had the last stages of chicken pox last week. When Stiles babysat."

"Aren't people vaccinating for that?"

"Sure, but apparently this mom is vaccine 'cautious.' The kids have the major ones but she doesn't do flu shots and no chicken pox. Trust me, my mom had opinions on that one. Kid was still in the pass it along stage of recovery."

"But if Stiles is vaccinated, he should be fine."

"No, but see, Stiles is in the .5% of the population that has lower response to the vaccine." Scott was clearly upset. "He might have it."

"That doesn't explain why he is at my house?"

"While we wait to see if he gets sick, he can't be at home. His dad can't afford to get shingles, because he also had a low response to the vaccine when he got it."

That made sense to Derek. "But you said chicken pox?"

"Shingles is the name for it when you are older."

"Okay, but again, why me?" Derek failed to see how this was his problem.

"You can't get sick if he does have it."

"Neither can you," Derek had to point out.

"Yeah, but I have a life and can't sit on Stiles to make sure he doesn't go out in the world until we know if he gets sick or not." Scott smiled, "You having no friends, or hobbies, or a job is really useful right now!"

Derek stared at him, but Scott didn't seem to realize how insulting he was being. "And this has nothing to do with the fact that Chris Argent is going to be out of town this weekend, and Allison home alone."

"How did you know that?" Scott's voice cracked.

"You don't need to know how I know things."

"Are you spying on them?" Scott was staring at him as he tried to figure it out. "He has tried to kill us a million times, but like I am there enough to keep an eye, and he's better now So you shouldn't be a creeper and spy!"

"Twenty six," Derek said. "And no I don't spy on him. That is all you need to know about that. How long?"

"For what?"

Save him. "How long am I stuck with Stiles?" Scott wasn't making eye contact. "Fuck, Scott, how long?"

"It might only be two days if he isn't sick," Scott offered, "and a couple weeks if he is." That last part was mumbled, but Derek could hear it just fine.

"A couple of weeks?" Derek got into Scott's face. "If I am stuck with Stiles for two weeks, there will be no Stiles left. I will kill him, and no one, not even his father would arrest me, because who can put up with a sick Stiles for two weeks?"

"He won't be that bad, and maybe he isn't sick." Scott was pleading. "Please, Derek. I promise, I'll bring by food, and check on him. Hang out a bit."

"Food yes, hang out no." If he was going to be in hell, he didn't need Scott in his place for hours on end. "He might not be sick?"

"He might not be, the kid was at the end of the spreading range, good shot Stiles is fine." Scott was hugging him. "Thanks! You have no idea how much this means to me. I would be so worried about him."

If you were that worried, you'd look after him yourself, Derek thought but let it go. He supposed there was some logic in him getting stuck with Stiles. Scott left and Derek went back into the loft. His betas knew better than to swing by that day, but he texted them all telling to stay away for a few days that he was going out of town and locking the place up.

They all wished him a good vacation, and to bring them back souvenirs.

Why the fuck would he bring them back souvenirs, even if he was going on a trip?

He tossed the phone on the table and looked at Stiles. Who was by the big window. "That doesn't actually open if you are planning an escape."

"What? Escape, no just admiring the view. But also that's a fire hazard, every home needs a window that opens. I think it might even be the law. You should probably get that dealt with, right now. I'll just go home to be out of your way."

"That was pathetic," Derek crossed his arms. "Look, you staying here for a couple days until it is proven to Scott that you aren't sick, honestly will make my life easier. If he is in a good mood, he might not freak out next time I deal with a situation in the correct way."

"Murder is not the correct way," Stiles said.

"Sometimes it is!" Derek shouted, "why are you all so stubborn about this?"

"Because it is murder!"

"Well I prefer that to being dead, or my pack being dead. Murder saved Erica's life, so excuse me if sometimes I am pro murder of monsters!" Derek was really frustrated that they couldn't understand that. Maybe it was the difference between being born into this world, and having it thrust upon you.

It was one of the handful of things that he and Chris Argent agreed on. That and baseball. That was the truth about how he knew Chris was going to be out of town. Every couple weeks they went out of town to a triple A ball game, sat in the outfield with a couple drinks, exchanged knowledge, history, made plans to protect the town. They weren't friends, they were work friends, those were different. It was just easier to talk work when yelling at an umpire.

"You're right."

"Of course I am," Derek paused, "wait. What?" Stiles had not just said that.

"Look, my dad doesn't like to discharge his firearm, but he's prepared to if it will save people. He is ready to take a life if the situation absolutely calls for it. No one would judge him for it, they'd appreciate it. Makes them feel safe, having a sheriff as steady as my dad." Stiles shrugged, "You are trying to do the same thing. Just you know maybe consider murder as the last option not the first?"

Derek rolled his eyes, "I do, but guess what, usually by the time I'm talking to you, I've already weighed those decisions. I don't want to have this fight. Again. Do you feel sick?"

"Nope," Stiles smiled. "Which good thing for you, I'm not exactly considered the most fun ever when I am sick."

"You aren't the most fun ever when you aren't sick," Derek had to point out.

"Excuse you, I'm all the fun, you just are genetically incapable of fun."

"My mom was a riot at parties," Derek said, "the genetics are there, they just went to Laura not me. I got my dad's sense of oh this is too many people in here, that cannot be up to code vibes." He saw Stiles was stunned at Derek mentioning his family. Actually stunned into silence. God, that was nice. A few seconds of actually quiet Stiles. "I need to shower."

"Of course," Stiles perked up. "You go do that, and I'll just watch t.v."

"You mean run and potentially make your dad or your human friends sick. It's called being a super spreader, isn't it?"

"Fuck you, okay, I'm vaccinated, I am not going to get sick, and I'm not going to make my dad sick! Scott and Mrs. McCall are just being —" there was some arm flailing to explain what they were being.

"No, I don't trust you. So I can either tie you to a chair, or you are coming into the bathroom with me."

"Dude —"

"Don't call me dude, we've talked about this Stiles." Derek hated being called dude. He had never told them why, because it was none of their business that something from when he was eleven bothered him to this day. "Now, tied up or bathroom?"

"Why would I want to see you in the shower? Are you perving on me? Oh god, are you like into kids?"

"Gagged is now on the list," Derek scowled, "and everyone I've dated has been older than me."

"As a cover for your weird fetish for nubile virgin flesh?" Stiles crossed his arms and was glaring at him. "I'm onto your wicked and licentious ways."

Derek nodded and went over, picked Stiles up and took him to the kitchen area. A few seconds later, Stiles was tied to the chair with the string he used for trussing turkeys. Or would truss turkeys with, if he ever cooked a turkey. It had been on sale, so he had grabbed the string just in case. And look, it was coming in handy. He started to walk away. "And you aren't nublile, and I'm not licentious."

"I'm plenty nubile!" Stiles shouted.

Derek went to the shower and luckily the shower drowned out the sound of Stiles shouting at him. Almost. He was pretty loud. Derek should have gagged him. He had just wanted quiet; this is what he got for wanting something for himself.

He really was cursed.

Derek stepped out and barely dried off, threw on some clean sweatpants, but didn't bother with a top, wanting some semblance of his plans for the day. Which had been being naked. He liked being naked. But since he had a pack who hadn't been born to it, they wouldn't get it.

Erica might but then she would want compliments on her breasts, and he was not sure what the right thing to say there was. His mind was stuck on that thought as he went to the kitchen. "How do you compliment breasts in a nonsexual manner?"

Stiles stared at him.

"What?" Derek went to the fridge, and grabbed some milk. "You want granola?"

"I never want granola, and neither do you? You are a werewolf and you eat granola?"

"Whole grains are important."

"Wait, are you a fitness health freak?"

"No," Derek huffed, "I just like granola for breakfast. Do you want a bowl?"

"I had real cereal before the whole incident. Are you going to untie me?"

Derek sat on his counter, and ate his breakfast.

"Okay then, fine, this is a kink thing for you, tying up teenagers. Got it. Now why are you asking me about breasts? Are you trying to bond or something?"

"Nope, just random thought, and since you are only random thoughts, figured you might have an answer."

"Probably do, but only freedom gets it."

"Guess I'll live with not knowing." Derek ate and watched Stiles. "You sure you are feeling fine?"

"Yup, fine and fit, and right as rain on the plains of Spain."

"Lie."

"Fuck off, of course it is a lie, I'm tied to a chair! And no one believes me that I'm fine."

"Your eyes are a bit glassy."

"Didn't sleep well. Nightmares." Stiles stuck out his chin a bit, aiming for the blow. "Come on, make fun of me."

Derek finished his breakfast, washed the bowl, went and untied Stiles. "If you run, I will tie you up again." He decided to ignore Stiles and went to the couch with the book he had been saying for today. He lay down and opened it up. He was honestly surprised he got to page three before Stiles pestered him.

"I really am fine," Stiles insisted. Derek knew that was a lie that Stiles really wanted to believe. "I have to be. I don't have time for this. We have a major project in English, and Lydia almost smiled at me when she said I wasn't as stupid as I looked."

"You still crushing on her? It won't happen."

"I know that dumbass," Stiles sat in the chair that was Boyd's usual spot. Derek realized he had bought all the furniture for his pack to each have a spot that was 'theirs'. He was getting way too sentimental. He watched as Stiles clearly didn't like that chair and moved to each area. None satisfied. "Why do all your chairs suck?"

Derek ignored that and pretended to read. Only to feel his feet being picked up. He growled as Stiles settled at the other side of the love seat. This was his chair dammit, no one else sat on it.

"Ah, there we go," Stiles seemed to just melt into the overstuffed cushion. "This is a great couch, not long enough to nap though."

"If you have a full couch people sit next to you," Derek said. "This is big enough for some sprawling, but small enough no one wants to get that close to me, giving me decent space. Usually."

"Clever," Stiles agreed, "now then Lydia. I am 85% over the crush. It is more like when you see a true work of art, the Mona Lisa, the pyramids, Killer Klowns from Outer Space, and are in awe of its majesty and magnificence and know you can never hold its beauty and grace in your hands. You accept this even as you mourn this."

Derek shook his head. "This is why I don't like people. It makes you insane."

"Come on, you like people. You like your pack. And me, you like me. Look how you aren't killing me right now." Stiles went quiet. "Do you really not like people? Like like like them."

"I do not understand what you mean, and I will pay you a dollar for each minute you keep your mouth shut."

"Nah, I'm fine being broke, this is serious." Derek growled a bit at Stiles, but Stiles just ignored him. "Have you never had a crush on anyone?"

"I've had sex Stiles." He put his book down and sat up so that he wasn't touching Stiles at all. "A fair bit in fact."

"No shit a guy as pretty as you has fucked. I didn't say that — I said crush. Those are different."

Derek was quiet. "Yeah, tends not to be a good thing. So I stopped."

"That sucks."

Derek ignored that. He watched Stiles. Breathed in, to smell the man. "You are getting sick."

"Shit," Stiles closed his eyes, but didn't yell like Derek expected. "Don't feel bad. Feel mostly fine. Could blame it on adrenaline dump?"

"No, you are starting to smell just a bit different." Derek watched him. "What does chicken pox exactly entail?"

"I don't really know, I was vaccinated, everyone is, so didn't pay attention. I think I get a rash? No big deal I've walked through poison ivy and survived."

"Why a couple weeks if all you do is get a rash?"

"Because its incubation spreading time is a pain. Need to be safe, I guess." Stiles shrugged. "You absolutely sure I am getting sick?"

Derek leaned forward and breathed in, right at Stiles neck. "You borrowed your dad's Old Spice deodorant again."

"The two packs were on sale. Better than Axe Body Spray like half the guys at my school use?"

Derek leaned back. "Along with Arctic Rush, you smell like your laundry detergent, your soap, the Stiles smell, and the beginnings of sick."

"What does sick smell like?"

"You, just more bitter?" Derek couldn't describe it really other than not right. "Two weeks?"

"Yup," Stiles stared at him. "Promise to not kill me?"

"Stiles, I will not kill you." Derek was actually a bit hurt. "You think I would, really?"

"My guy, have you ever dealt with a sick human before?" Stiles was smiling, but it wasn't a happy friendly thing.

"No? How bad can it be?"

"Yeah, just remembered you promised not to kill me," Stiles sighed. "Well at least I am getting out of that English project. Fucking hate Shakespeare."

"Because it isn't real English?" the pack complained about that often enough.

"No it is real English, it is post the vowel shift and codification of syntax, so it is real English. But like the basketball coach teaches it, so they don't give a shit beyond they have to. Means we mostly watch a movie of the play. Wish we could actually learn."

"My mom would have liked you best of everyone," Derek said.

"Two mom mentions in one morning, you okay, you sure you aren't the one sick?" Stiles teased.

"No clue," he honestly had no idea why he had done that. "I should go get groceries, will you stay put, without me tying you up?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, and there wasn't a lie in it. "I don't want this, but I won't make my dad sick. But could you stop at my house? Scott made me pack a bag quick, not exactly enough to get me through."

"Sure, text me a list and I'll go get the stuff."

Stiles was being more than reasonable, this was going to be fine.

"This will be easy," Derek said, "two weeks will fly by."

"It's cute that you believe that." Stiles was watching him. Then there was a shrug. "Just remember you promised not to kill me."

Derek rolled his eyes at the dramatics, but went to get dressed and to get supplies. It was going to be boring, but fine. Humans mostly slept when they were sick, so this would be boring but no big deal.

All fine, he was sure of it.

Chapter Text

Derek woke up and groaned. He was not old, not even remotely, but in the moment he felt it. Good to know even with werewolf healing, his hips were gonna be fucked when he was old. "Get the fuck back to bed, Stiles."

"I'm fine, I'm just going home, so you can have your bed back. All done being sick."

Derek stood, mostly by pushing himself up the loft door. He looked at Stiles who was flushed, and pale at the same time. Eyes glassy, breathing heavily. "Either you are horny or sick. And since I don't smell horny just sick, I am going with that."

"Jokes on you I'm horny. This is my I need to jerk off vibe. It's too sexy for you to understand. How about you move and let me go home to deal with it."

"No, your chest flushes when you are horny, not your whole face."

"Back to perving on teenagers. Not cool, my guy, not cool. Tell you what, I'll forget I know you are a creep, and you just get out of the way of the door." Stiles was trying to grin at him.

"Sure," Derek decided to change tactics. "Go ahead."

"Thank you, kind sir," Stiles gave a bow, and made a noise. Stayed in the position. Derek wondered what that was about. "Sorry, just need a moment to control my horny."

"Take all the time you need," Derek stretched, rolled his shoulders. Last night he realized after the third attempt to leave, it was easier to sleep blocking the door instead of on the couch. But he was regretting it now. He waited and Stiles straightened up, grabbed the handle and the door didn't move.

Derek smirked a bit, and went to make himself some coffee. He could hear the struggle easily.

"You bastard, it's locked, and I can't find the lock. Is it magic?" Derek listened to the yelling as he waited for the coffee, and once it was ready he poured a cup. Decided to indulge, added a spoon of sugar. He wandered over and Stiles looked worse. "Door mean!"

Derek went over and opened it easily, quickly slid it closed and took a sip of coffee. "Or you are sick and weak enough you couldn't open a door that you usually can handle."

Stiles was now shivering. "Fuck," he cursed. "Derek, a wizard stole my strength. That is the only answer. You know how Scott makes his stupid I am a good guy face and pose when you murder? Promise he won't do it if you kill the wizard who stole my strength. I won't even tell him."

"You look really shitty. People are supposed to lie down when they look that shitty." Derek put the coffee on the little table by the door. He then wondered when he had got a little table by his door. He would blame Erica, although Boyd had been really into Derek getting a place and bothering him to live like a human. But it was handy in the moment.

Coffee down, Stiles up.

"Hey!" Stiles said. "Why am I flying?"

"You are a mess and going to bed." He dropped Stiles on the bed. "Stay," he ordered, even growled a bit. But Stiles was human, and it wouldn't work the way it did on the betas. And sure enough, Stiles rolled off the bed, but he didn't get up.

He just stayed there. And moaned.

"Stiles?"

"Floor cool, floor good. Floor home."

Derek did not understand, but Stiles didn't seem to be headed for the door, so he would take it for a win. Back to his coffee. He texted Scott that Stiles was alive, but seemed to have a fever. Was he supposed to check it or something?

There was a message shortly after saying that Scott would drop supplies off on his way to school. Made Derek realize it was Monday. He put a piece of paper on the fridge with a few columns. One for striking off days for the two weeks. One for how many times Stiles tried to escape, and one for how many times Derek did not kill Stiles.

Scott would owe him a great deal of leaving him alone when handed this paper. He could hear Stiles singing to the floor. It was an awful song, and the guy was not a good singer.

Derek ignored it though and went to the corner he had set up as a bit of a gym and worked out until he heard a knock on the door. There was also a text saying Scott didn't want to be a carrier and was also respecting Derek's instructions to not hang out and also had to get to school.

Derek had a feeling that was all bullshit and Scott just knew what a sick Stiles was like and was running like a coward. For a moment he debated it too, because the song was now just pitiful whimpers about the floor breaking up with Stiles.

But Derek just opened the door and grabbed the bag on the ground. Door closed and there was various medicines in it, some lotions for itchy skin related to chicken pox, a box of oatmeal for the bath — he didn't understand that but whatever — a thermometer. Two actually. There was a note that the taser looking one wasn't as accurate as the traditional one, so if it read high, double check with the other one.

Also some cans of soup, and a few energy drinks, that was nice.

There were no actual instructions with the thermometers beyond that and everything was open, clearly Scott had just raided his home cabinets. Fine. Derek grabbed both and also the pain relievers that said they were good for fever. Which Stiles would need to swallow, so also grabbed an energy drink.

Stiles was still flopped on the ground but had rolled onto his back and was staring blankly at the ceiling. Derek could hear his heartbeat and see breathing which was good because otherwise it looked like Stiles had died.

Derek did not want to have that conversation with the sheriff who had only recently decided Derek wasn't evil.

"Stiles I need to take your temperature, to make sure you don't die. I don't need your corpse shitting on my floor."

"Have you ever noticed how monster corpses don't void the way human corpses do?"

"No, can't say I have," Derek answered. "We staying on the floor, or you want up?"

"Up has died, there is no up, there is only down."

Derek rolled his eyes. "You are stupid enough as it is, I do not need the fever burning out what brain cells you do have." He hauled Stiles up and tossed him on the bed.

"I'm the second smartest person you know. Lydia is the smartest. She's so smart, Derek, like you have no idea. And she hides it, why does she hide it?"

"Why would I know? You hide how smart you are, why do you do that?"

"You just said I'm stupid." Stiles was clearly trying to piece it all together, and couldn't. "How am I both?"

"You just are," Derek said after a moment. "How do I use this?" He held up the taser looking one. "Do I shoot you?"

"Yup, press against my forehead. Pull the trigger."

"I often want to kill you, but don't want to execute you."

That got a laugh. "Poor wolfie, not knowing how to deal with sick people."

Derek read it. "110?"

"Yeah, if it was that I'd be dead. Try again."

Derek pressed it and stared. "115."

"If that is Scott's thermometer, is it Scott's?" There was a bit of clarity on Stiles' face. "Because I fucked with it once to help him fake sick. A bit too well."

"Of course you did," Derek held out the other thermometer. "This has to go in your ass though, doesn't it?" He stared at the thin tube. "Wouldn't it get lost in there? Like, I feel it should have a chain, or a flared base so it doesn't get pushed in too far with no chance of removal?" He frowned. "How far up your ass do I have to put it? And there was no lube in the bag, so either Scott assumes you are used to having things up your ass, or it would impact the reading?"

Derek waited for an answer but Stiles was just staring at him. And then started laughing. Derek wasn't sure what was so funny, but Stiles had maybe started hallucinating and seeing something in the corner. But the laughter turned to coughing.

Derek knew this one, when a human was cough you slapped their back to help them clear their throat. It happened in shows all the time, he had seen it happen at the diner he ate it sometimes. So he slapped Stiles' back at what he figured was reasonable strength.

In shows the person never puked when you slapped their back.

His first thought was he'd have to change the sheets. He only had two sets. The second was just how much had actually landed on Derek's lap, he'd also need to change and have a shower.

The third was that this was his first time really smelling sick puke, not just coughed up bile and blood.

He almost felt bad for the fact that he puked on Stiles, but it was Stiles' fault anyways.

He hadn't actually puked before, and Derek didn't want to do it ever again. It felt awful and the smell was worse and they were both now covered in sick. They both sat there sort of stunned, confused.

Then Stiles whimpered and was crying, "you puked on me!"

"You did it first," Derek felt helpless, something that had only happened a few times in his life. "I didn't, I've never smelled this before." And it was filling his nose, made him gag but he managed to swallow it back. "We need to get this off of us."

He thought quickly and the easiest solution was to just pick Stiles up. Stiles was still crying and Derek ignored it, focused on the plan. He turned the shower on and once it was the warm side of tepid, he stepped in.

Stiles immediately stopped crying. "You can't shower in clothes!"

"It will get the puke off quickest," Derek said. He did his best to stand them both under the spray until it was mostly off them. He then stripped naked and Stiles was just standing there, confused. "Clothes off?"

"How?" Stiles stared. "I'm wet."

Derek closed his eyes for just a moment and regretted that they had come back to reclaim the Hale territory. He then got all the clothes off of Stiles. He had to kneel to carefully lift one foot at a time. "There," he said and looked up.

Realized he was eye level with Stiles' dick, and only a few inches away.

Derek quickly stood and stared at the wall behind Stiles' head. "Sorry," he muttered, "it was just really gross."

"My dick?" Stiles shouted. "My dick is gross? It isn't, it's a nice dick! You know who has a gross dick? Jackson."

"Why do you know that?" Derek winced because he did not want to think about Jackson's dick ever. But now he was. And actually where had his dick gone when he was the kanima? Because wolves you know the sheath is there for full transformation and when they half shifted everything stayed hanging out. In kanima form though everything had been smooth.

Derek shook his head like that would dismiss the thought. Maybe being puked on had infected him with Stiles' brain. If this was how that brain worked, no wonder Stiles was a mess half the time.

"Lacrosse, gym, showers. You don't look, but you look. Danny doesn't or he's really good. I think because he is scared someone would beat him up? But who would beat up Danny? He's great." Stiles was nodding. "He has a nice dick. Scott is okay? It sort of tilts?" Stiles held up a hand and demonstrated or attempted to; instead he just sort of accidentally punched Derek. "Sorry! But I bet that is what it does to Allison when it goes boopity boopity, comes up in the world. Heheheh comes. Do you spell it c-o-m-e or c-u-m?"

"Why would I spell it all?" Derek grabbed soap and lathered his hands, wiped himself down. "Here."

"No cloth?"

Derek grabbed his shirt from the bottom of the tub ripped a part that hadn't puked on off. "Cloth."

Stiles was just staring at him, confused.

"Fuck," Derek cursed and soaped up the bit of rag, wiped Stiles down. Avoided certain regions though because hell no. Water off and then pulled Stiles out. He dried himself off, towel around his waist, then did the same for Stiles who was starting to look rough. "Stiles?"

"Sleep? But cold." There were shivers.

"You'll feel better, dry and in sweats."

Derek dried him off and sat him on the toilet. "Stay."

He ran and stripped the bed, the smell on the sheets making him gag again, but he held it down. Thank god the comforter had been saved from this horror. In the washing machine and he went to the gym bag. Lots of shorts and tees, no sweats.

In the extra he had grabbed for Stiles there was no comfy sweats but the tearaway sort. Not warm. Dammit he should have paid more attention, but finding anything in Stiles' room had been hell and he hadn't trusted Stiles to not run.

Derek went to his dresser and grabbed sweats and a long sleeved top. He went to the bathroom, and Stiles was clearly almost asleep. Derek found himself gentle as he dressed Stiles.

"Underwear?" Stiles blinked at him. "You don't want me free balling in your gear."

"It's fine," Derek said, "can wash it after."

"'k," Stiles shivered a bit as the clothes were put on. "Why so cold here?"

"That's the fever, you should take drugs?"

"No, they make the nightmares worse, just sleep. And warm." Stiles stared at him. "Bed? There is a bed somewhere. I saw it. Or are beds fake?"

"Never smoke weed," Derek suggested. "I feel like you and recreational drugs would be bad."

"Of course, drugs are bad and wrong. You say no to drugs," Stiles said. "That's why I only take too much of my adhd meds, because that's fine."

"I'm pretty sure its not," Derek replied. He waited for Stiles to stand. But he was just sitting there. Great. Fine. Derek picked him up and put him on the couch. "I need to put fresh sheets on the bed."

"Okay," Stiles nodded. "While you do that, I'm going home because I'm all better now." There was more nodding. "How do I leave?"

Derek hmmed a bit, "I've found the best way to leave is by lying down on this couch."

"Oh, that makes sense." Stiles agreed and lay down. "Am I leaving?"

"Yup, but it takes a few minutes, okay?"

"You betcha. Hey Derek before I leave, why do you know so much about what goes up butts and how not to lose it?" Stiles giggled. "Derek butt."

Derek ignored the question and went to the bedroom, put sheets on the bed. When he went back out, Stiles was snoring on the couch. Derek locked the loft door with an extra chain and padlock, just to be safe and figured his bed was made, and it was quiet. He crashed.

At least this was likely the worst that this would get.

Chapter Text

It was the smell of burning that woke Derek. Painfully, brutally, had him howling before he was even coherent. He shot up off the couch and spun around in horror, but there were no flames, no scent of burning flesh, just burning.

"Fuck! What the fuck?" he could being cursed from his kitchen and he ran there. He couldn't quite process what he was seeing. He understood that Stiles was safe.

Which was nice, because Derek was going to kill him. "What happened?" he growled the words, fangs dropped a bit.

"Your microwave is broken," Stiles was flapping a tea towel in front of it. Smoke was coming out of it. "I wanted soup."

A glance to the oven showed it was six thirty in the morning. Soup and something else was slowly leaking out of the microwave onto the counter it rested on. The smell was noxious, plastic and tomato mixing together and Derek gagged. But he refused to throw up again, because no.

Wait. Plastic. He approached and looked inside. "You tried to heat soup in the microwave in a plastic mixing bowl." He realized not all the colour was from the tomato soup but from the pink mixing bowl. He nodded a bit. "Clean this up," was all he could say as he walked out of the kitchen, and out of the loft, because if he didn't get fresh air, he would scream.

Derek stood outside and breathed in the fresh air, tried to calm himself. He was just in his sweatpants, and even for him the morning air was chilly. He didn't think just ran. He needed to run, to get the scent of burning out of his nose, for just a few minutes get the scent of Stiles out of his nose.

He didn't even realize where he had run to, until after his fist had pounded on the door.

"Derek?" the door swung open and there was the sheriff. "Is Stiles okay?"

"He's an idiot!" Derek said helplessly.

There was a wince, "yeah, sick Stiles definitely does not fire on all cylinders. Come on in, you look like you need coffee."

Derek followed in a bit lost, and somehow in wanting to escape Stiles' scent he went to a place where it was baked into the very walls, covered the sheriff even though they had been apart for four days now. Coffee was put in front of him and he drank half of it down. He clutched the cup. "I am sorry, but for the good of society I might have to kill your son. I'll let you say your goodbyes first." That only got a laugh and a couple slices of peanut butter toast put in front of him. He bit into it viciously.

"Let me tell you about the great flu of grade one," the sheriff said and told a rambling story that was perhaps a bit funny. "I need to tell you Derek, how much I appreciate you looking out for him like this. I wish, I told everyone it was fine if I got shingles, I'd survive."

"I read up, it can cause nerve damage, a sheriff who can't fire a gun is a problem."

"He's my kid," was the reply to that. "Now as someone who is very well versed in wanting to smother Stiles, do you want some advice?"

Derek nodded, realized that was why he had come here. "Please? He keeps trying to leave, and swears he isn't sick, and he destroyed my microwave and it smelled like burning."

"Oh, fuck, well first off he will apologize for that son," the sheriff calling him son was weird but also Derek knew this was a man who probably called everyone under thirty-five son. "Are you okay?"

"It woke me up?" Derek shrugged. "Why did he even want soup at that time of morning?"

"Sick Stiles has an…odd relationship to food," was what was said and there was a squeeze to his shoulder. "He gets that from his mom."

Stiles looked at the sheriff's plate which seemed to be leftover perogis for breakfast. He was impressed that the guy honestly believed it. He realized where Stiles got his insane convictions of belief were from. He realized something. "He didn't smell like fever anymore," he said. Derek brightened. "He might not be with me for ten more days. He beat this quickly."

There was a look on the sheriff's face. One Derek didn't like.

"Stay there, finish your breakfast. I'll put together a bag."

"Why do I need another bag if he is all better?"

There was no answer just the sheriff headed upstairs. Derek did the dishes because it seemed polite and look he was a jackass regularly, but his dad had instilled manners into him. He stood there, waited until the sheriff was back. "Here you go. Now about how to not kill Stiles in his sleep. The biggest thing is occupying his brain, or his hands. Ideally both. I had some little metal puzzles I keep. A couple historical cold cases for him to read. Put on a documentary about like a mysterious plague or something. Unsolved Mysteries kept him occupied for hours as a kid. And most importantly a bottle of whisky."

"Why?"

"Because you are going to need a fucking drink," the sheriff leaned, whispered even though they were alone, "and look I didn't say that, but uhh if he is being really whiny? A shot will mellow him out, two he'll be down for the count. When he was teething I prayed for the sweet release of death after hour ten of crying. Remembered something my mama had told me and rubbed whisky on his gums. Sure his mom almost murdered me after but look those three hours of silence we had after were worth it."

Derek stared at the sheriff. "You are my favourite human." He took the bag. "I puked on him. But he puked on me, so it was his fault." He had no idea why he shared that information. "I also had to bathe us, and saw his dick. Do you need to arrest me for that?" He wished he could shut up, but somehow the sheriff had these eyes that had him babbling.

There was a laugh and then a hug. Stiles' father was hugging him. "Yeah, taking care of sick Stiles also makes you ramble and say insane things. Wait until he is almost better but not quite. Did a military stint and almost better Stiles is far worse. Good luck, son."

"Thanks," Derek said. He paused, "Oh god, I've left him alone for an hour." He took off running without even a goodbye. He was half convinced when he got home that Stiles would be long gone.

What he found was a bit worse. He went to his kitchen table and gently took the screwdriver away from Stiles. "I'm cleaning it up?" Stiles stared at him and made a grabby hand for the tool. "I'm good and fixing it."

Derek stared at the wreckage of what once was a microwave, currently with case removed and several parts spread out over his table. The plastic seemed to have affixed itself to the inside, but the liquid was at least gone. "Where did you even find a screwdriver?"

"Junk drawer," there was a wave. "Find the junk drawer, find the truth of a home."

"I have a junk drawer?" Derek went to where Stiles pointed and sure enough there was a drawer with a random assortment of stuff. "I have condoms?" He thought about it. "Body and Erica. Oh fuck, that means they do it in my kitchen?"

"Wouldn't you smell it if they did?" Stiles was poking his fingers into the guts of the microwave. "I think I have it almost clean."

Derek turned and looked at him. "You don't. Go sit on the couch, while I throw this out."

"I can help."

Derek put the screwdriver back in the drawer. He went to the living room and opened the bag that the sheriff had given him. "Huh, mysterious deaths in a mining town in 1838," he read aloud, "mysterious carvings on their bodies, one witness driven mad by what they saw."

"Gimmie!" Stiles came running, "gimmie gimmie gimmie," was chanted.

"Never get, don't you know your manners yet?" Derek snapped in return. They stared at each other. "And now you know what my father sounded like."

"Weeeeird," Stiles said after a moment. "Your dad was that sort of dad?"

"He was," Derek felt a bit awkward. Why was he talking about his family with Stiles? He didn't talk to anyone about his family. "He said just because we were wolves, didn't mean we couldn't be polite."

"What did your mom say about that?"

Derek shuddered. "She would just smirk and whisk him away saying she knew he didn't mind a little bit of rude. Our bedrooms were not soundproof."

He sighed when Stiles just pointed and laughed at him. "Your parents had sex too."

"You take that back!" Stiles shouted as his laughter cut off immediately. "I was found under a cabbage patch on the full moon."

Derek laughed, "sure you were. Read, while I clean up the murder you committed."

"It wasn't a murder, your microwave chose to lay down and die. Defeated by a plastic bowl, pathetic. It really was a mercy death."

Derek was surprised at how normal Stiles seemed. Back to regular mouthy jackass behaviour, skin wasn't sallow. Tired, but the smell of sick in him was shifting. They were over the worst of it. He went and cleaned up the microwave dropping it all into the dumpster outside. His phone buzzed and he looked at the message from Isaac asking if they were allowed to come over yet.

He decided to tell them the truth and explained the situation.

It seemed his pack were all scared at the idea of dealing with a sick Stiles and said they would stay away until that was done. He really respected that choice.

Derek went upstairs and decided to work out, but it kept getting interrupted by Stiles coming in and rambling about the case he was reading. He tried to tune it out but it was hard when he was doing push ups and all of a sudden Stiles' face was right there. Derek didn't quite expect that and collapsed, smashed their faces together upside down, somehow his nose ending up in Stiles' mouth.

He wish he was surprised when he got bit.

Derek pushed up and Stiles looked horrified. "I'm sorry, I'm not a cannibal. I don't want to eat a human except for maybe one day trying to eat ass, it looks fun in porn. People seem into it on reddit threads."

Derek sat up and just sighed. "Yeah, it's fun," he agreed.

"It is! Who, when, how?"

"No," Derek said firmly. He stood and then helped Stiles up. He squinted. "You look worse."

"I'm fine," was said with a wave of hands. "Now then about this cold case -"

Derek reached out, held Stiles still, sniffed his neck. The fever was abating but there was something else. And Stiles clearly needed sleep. "I'm going to make you tea, a custom blend, tastes a bit weird, but it will help finish the last of the sick off."

"You held out on me?" Stiles gasped.

"Yes. Deal with it." Derek picked Stiles up and put him on the couch. "Stay." He quickly put the tv on and found Unsolved Mysteries in the streaming service. "Figure out which were supernatural and which were just drunk idiots." He also put one of the metal puzzles into Stiles' hand. That distracted the guy enough he didn't notice Derek pick up the bag.

Derek put the kettle on and dropped a very generous shot of whisky into the bottom of the glass, added some lemon and then a strong orange tea that should hide the flavour a bit. Once it was ready he took it to Stiles and handed it over.

Within half an hour Stiles was asleep. The sheriff was right that the silence was incredible. Derek decided to pour himself a glass of the whisky. It wouldn't actually hit him, but it smelled nice, comforting. He poured a glass and ended up reading that historical cold case Stiles had been rambling about. Found himself making notes, because it was actually pretty interesting.

Two hours later, Stiles was slowly waking up. "Hey, shit, sorry, more tired than I thought." There was a yawn and a stretch. "I am feeling pretty great though."

"You still smell sick," Derek pointed out. "Okay I have it down to three possibilities, which beats the five you were thinking. Go make coffee so you can focus and we'll get this solved."

"Why am I making the coffee? You go make the coffee. You are taking care of me, so take care of me."

"You said you were feeling great. Feeling great means making coffee."

Derek ignored the huff and muttering that Stiles did as he got up, because Stiles knew damn well that Derek could hear every word. But dictator, failwolf, and a few other things were in there. And wait - "toplofty?"

"Look it up," was snapped back.

Fifteen minutes later he was handed a cup of coffee and automatically took a sip and choked. "What the fuck?"

"You said make coffee, you didn't say it had to be good," Stiles gave him a vicious smile and took a sip of what Derek could only call sludge, without a single negative expression passing his face. "Learned to drink coffee at the station. If it doesn't make you see through time, it isn't coffee."

Derek took another sip determined not to react, but he couldn't —he flinched at the frankly corrosive taste. "You cannot drink this."

"Watch me," Stiles took another sip and even smiled and his heart stayed even. Bastard was actually fine drinking it. "So what do you think did it?"

"Fear," Derek said after a moment. He was not staring at the coffee as he said it, even as he carefully put the mug just out of reach. "I think it was fear."

Stiles sat down. "Explain."

Derek explained and Stiles countered and honestly it was the most interesting conversation they had ever had together. He was about to counter Stiles' counterargument when he noticed. "Stiles you are stratching your arm."

"Just an itch, big guy, seam on the shirt was sitting funny." Stiles finished his coffee and looked at Derek's cup. "You going to drink that?"

"You mean the poison you made? No, I like being alive."

"Weenie," Stiles teased. He was looking at Derek's notes. "Sorry about the murder of your microwave. I'll pay for a new one? Well, used. I have like no money. But the church down from our house does a mean rummage sale. Usually a toaster oven. Can you take a toaster oven from the eighties in place of a microwave?"

"No, and you are scratching your throat."

"Dry as shit in here, you should get a humidifier."

Derek glanced at the moisture that was on the glass window. "Sure," he said slowly. "Can you just not kill any other appliances while here?"

"I mean your coffee making did not like making the last third of the pot. It is as much of a weenie as you, but a clean and it should be fine."

"Just try not to burn more?"

"Oh fuck, you have ptsd," Stiles shouted. "Fuck, dude."

Derek sighed, "No I don't. I just don't like the smell of burning because it is tied to the greatest trauma of my life."

Stiles was touching him. Fuck, was he being hugged? He growled a bit, but Stiles didn't let go and with the guy being sick he didn't want to push him away like he normally would. "My guy, that's kinda the definition of ptsd. For me it is hospital heart monitors. Threw a baseball right into a tv when I was twelve and we were watching a show. I am so sorry I burned and murdered your small household appliance. And made you sad."

Derek sort of patted Stiles' back. "I'm sorry I guess I told your father I planned to kill you, and followed his advice on drugging you with alcohol to get some peace and quiet."

Stiles let go and gave him a shocked face.

Derek shrugged.

All of a sudden Stiles started laughing hysterically. "That is the funniest thing ever. Oh my god, my dad told you to knock me out."

"I feel like you should be mad?"

"I mean I could be, but also I switched all like his sour cream and cheese and stuff to low no fat, putting it into regular label containers so he wouldn't know. Feels pretty even."

"You are diabolical."

"Ask me what I wouldn't do for the people I love?"

Derek tilted his head, "what wouldn't you do for the people you love?"

Stiles gave him a look, one that even had Derek backing away from its intensity, "Nothing, the answer is nothing."

Derek nodded. "You really would have been my mom's favourite. Which would point out that energy doesn't fit with Scott's we don't murder bullshit."

"I know, but I am also aware at some point we will come up against something, and we'll take care of it, and just not tell him." Stiles flopped back on the couch. "Hey do you have lotion, place is really dry. Like really dry." He was itching his stomach now. "Huh," he said and Derek looked at the exposed flesh. "That's kinda red and bumpy isn't it?"

Derek stared and then slowly met Stiles' gaze. "You are getting the pox part of chicken pox. We are going to have to stop you, you, from itching."

Stiles nodded, "how much alcohol did my dad give you to drug me?"

Derek shuddered a bit, "not enough. There is no way it is enough. Can I give you the bite so we can skip this step?" It seemed reasonable to him. "Please," he begged, he did not care, because this was going to be hell. And he knew from hell. "Please," it was soft, a plea, a prayer.

Stiles swallowed, and it was clear for a moment he was considering it. "Weenie," he said, and slugged back the coffee which at this point seemed to have almost solifidied. "We've already puked on each other, this will be fine."

Derek heard Stiles' heartbeat, and Stiles knew that Derek had heard that heartbeat.

They both knew they were fucked.

Stiles scratched his stomach and Derek growled, went over and pulled the hand away.

They stared at each other and Stiles smiled, "this will be interesting won't it?"

Derek barred his teeth at Stiles and Stiles did the same. "Interesting," Derek agreed, fangs dropped just a bit.

Stiles' free hand scratched and Derek grabbed that one too, found himself straddling Stiles. "Interesting," Stiles managed to choke out.

Derek flushed and let go. "I'm getting the whisky and you are going to pass out."

"Yeah," Stiles agreed. "Yeah, good plan. Plan good." 

But for some reason it took Derek a minute before he managed to get up to make Stiles some more tea.

Chapter Text

Derek's phone was ringing and he ignored it to finish his task. He concentrated because this needed to be done carefully. Steadily. Slowly. He didn't want Stiles to wake up until he was done. He tore the tape with his teeth and nodded as he looked at his work.

It was perfect.

The phone started ringing again. Derek took it downstairs to answer, to not disturb Stiles. Sleep was important for healing for humans.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"How is he?"

"We have reached the itching and scratching stage," Derek said to Scott. "I need you to understand how much you owe me dealing with this. I am aware I am not your favourite person, and that's fine, I feel similar about you. But this is cruel and unusual punishment."

"I'm sorry," Scott sounded sincere, "it really was the best choice. Now I talked with Mom, she said if he actually got the itchy part of chicken pox it will last three or four days."

Derek had to sit down. "We are on day 1.5. He won't live to see day four. Although the measure I just took should help."

"Measures, what measures?" Now Scott sounded panicked.

Derek went to the coffee maker, and made coffee that wouldn't permanently damage even his heart.

"Derek, what measures!" was screeched.

"If you cut off someone's hands, they can't itch." Derek snarked. Scott started cursing, and he could hear the kid running. Which fucking hell, they accused him of having no sense of humour. "That was a joke, Scott. I just taped oven mitts to his hands so he couldn't itch. He was itching in his sleep, this solved the problem."

"No it doesn't!" More screeching, but the running at least stopped. "You put duck tape on skin? That will cause irritation."

"Give me some credit, Scott," Derek huffed, "I used bondage tape." He waited for Scott to continue shouting but there was just quiet. "Scott? Your mother have any other advice?" Silence. "Scott?"

"What's bondage tape? Oh god, don't answer that. No taping, Stiles!"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Sure," he lied, Scott wasn't strong enough to actually hear the lie through the phone. "No taping, Stiles. Now what else?"

"In the bag I had brought over there is lotion that will help. Don't just slather him in it, it is for spot application. Read the directions carefully. Also baths. Not showers, baths, with the oatmeal stuff in the bag. If he scratches he'll get scars, and he doesn't need that on top of all the moles."

"Huh, he doesn't have that many."

"You haven't seen him in the shower."

Derek frowned, "they are cute. Why are you being a jerk?"

"I'm not, but he hates them, so I hate them, those are the rules. And what do you mean cute? Why do you know what they all look like?"

"You have no more useful information." Derek hung up. He had no idea why he said they were cute. They were just a part of the Stiles' body. No reason to hate, or like, or declare cute, or whatever. Stiles wasn't cute. He was Stiles. Derek went to the bathroom and read the labels on everything, seemed straightforward enough.

He decided to workout while Stiles was still asleep, attempt to center himself for the day. Half way through he heard a yell.

Guess Stiles noticed the oven mitts. He heard the footsteps and just kept doing his chin ups because Stiles could yell at him while he finished his reps.

"What the hell?"

Derek didn't even look over. "You were scratching in your sleep. This seemed the easiest way to stop that."

"You taped oven tapes to me. With bondage tape!"

"How'd you recognize it?"

"Dude, you have no idea the porn I watch."

At that Derek had to turn, and look at Stiles. "Huh, just saying the words had Scott broken on the phone."

"I've seen his search history, his idea of wild porn is doing it in the living room," Stiles rolled his eyes. "I love the guy but, wow, that is a pure lack of imagination there. He doesn't even watch two guys one girl threeways, too many dicks."

He had never particularly thought about Scott's porn habits, and really didn't want to now, but if he had thought about it, that would track. "What porn do you watch?" He found himself asking.

Stiles was in front of him, holding up the hands covered in oven mitts. "Free me and I'll tell you."

"Don't want to know that badly," Derek let go of the bar. "How itchy are you?"

"Well the conversation distracted me, which great, but now that I am thinking about it, kinda super itchy. Also, I need to piss."

"You know where the bathroom is."

"How the hell do I hold my dick with these on?"

Derek shrugged. "Pee sitting down. They stop you from itching. I'm not taking them off. Not yet."

Stiles glared at him, but Derek easily ignored it and decided to do some yoga stretches. He ignored the mutterings that Stiles dropped as he stalked out of the room. Derek attempted to meditate, but his brain kept circling around the question of what sort of porn Stiles was out there watching.

Eventually he gave up and went to the kitchen. Stiles was sadly clutching a box of cereal that belonged to Isaac. "I'm hungry."

"Give me a second."

"So you'll take them off?"

"No," Derek said. "Not yet. I'm not wrestling you down to stop you from itching."

"Great, just great. I hate you."

"I know," Derek sighed. He knew he wasn't the best with people, and it was clear that made people hate him. He was trying to get better about it, but it was hard because no one could tell when he was joking. He fixed a bowl with cereal, "just enough milk so it isn't sawdust right?"

"Yeah," Stiles said slowly. "How'd you know?"

"Saw you make it once, remembered," Derek shrugged, "easy thing to remember."

"I don't hate you," Stiles said after a moment. "I mean no right now I do for the oven mitts, but isn't like a general feeling." Derek didn't reply, just sat next to Stiles with the bowl. He dipped the spoon in and held it up. "Really?" Stiles laughed, "really."

Derek just held up the spoon. Waited. Stiles opened his mouth, and Derek fed him. They were quiet as Derek steadily fed Stiles the cereal. When the bowl was scraped clean they stared at each other.

"Thanks," Stiles was blushing a bit. "Uhh, definitely distracted from the itching so you can take these off now."

"No," Derek repeated.

Oven mitted hands batted at his head. "Come on man! This is against the Geneva Conventions. This is a cruel and unusual punishment. I'll take you to the Hague."

"Do you know that like a third of the Geneva Suggestions are because of Canadians?" Derek took the bowl to the sink, rinsed it out.

"Wait, what?"

"Yup, read a book about it. Apparently you put Canadians in war, they sorta go crazy evil?" Derek turned. "Did not expect that, but by all means, call a lawyer say someone put oven mitts on you so you wouldn't scar or hurt yourself scratching while dealing with chicken pox."

"When will they come off?" Stiles was close to whining.

"When you need to shit because I am willing to take care of you but I am not wiping your ass, or when you want your oatmeal bath."

"Oatmeal bath?" Stiles made a face, and it matched Derek's opinion of how gross that sounded. "Ugh. Fine. You have calamine lotion right? That's supposed to help too."

"Yeah, I read the instructions you need it on?" There was a forlorn sigh, and just a head nod. "Come on," he gestured and they went to the living room. "Shirt off." Stiles gave him a flat look, and Derek knew the guy was flipping him off inside the oven mitt. Derek reached over, tugged it off himself.

He snorted as Stiles covered his nipples with the oven mitts. "Little late for that now."

"I do declare, a gentleman would not stare."

"I am assessing where I need to put this stuff on you."

"Everywhere that is red, or looks gross and pimply but is clearly not a pimple."

Derek looked at his chest. "It isn't too bad, the vaccine is helping." He opened the lotion which had a very medical smell and made him flinch. But he put some on his finger and rubbed it onto the spots on Stiles' chest. "Is it helping?"

"Maybe?" Stiles started snickering. "But think I have a couple on my ass, and maybe even one on my dick, so you know, oven mitts coming off soon."

Derek growled a bit because those oven mitts were the only protection he had against Stiles being a dumbass and scratching. "Wait there."

He went to the bathroom and came back with a towel, which he threw over the couch. "So we don't get lotion on it," he explained and then knelt, pulling Stiles' underwear down with the sweats at the same time.

"Dude, consent!"

"You would have said no and we'd bicker and you'd be sarcastic and I'd shout and this saves all of that." Derek went behind Stiles and luckily there were only a few spots on his ass and thighs. Most was on the torso which was fine. "You can't put the clothes back on after, because it would just rub the lotion off, or you could end up using the cloth to itch. If you are naked, I can stop you from stealth scratching."

"You sound like a crazy person. Do you understand how crazy you sound? Like at all?"

"Practical," Derek growled.

"I'm not sitting naked, dick out, on your couch!"

"Yes you are," Derek snapped. "You play sports, dicks are out all the time in changing rooms."

"There is a huge fucking difference between changing and showers, and just lounging on your couch, with everything on display."

"I don't understand."

He could see Stiles trying to calm himself down. Which fine, Derek was just being sensible. He went looked and there were a few raised spots on Stiles's hips, so he put lotion on them, one or two in the pubic hair, which again he applied lotion do. He didn't even think about so focused on his task. "None on your dick, it's on your ball sack," he said and held the dick out of the way to rub lotion where it was needed. A couple spots on inner thigh and he looked up frowning.

"Why aren't you breathing?" Derek asked.

"Because you are holding my dick!" Stiles gasped for air. "Derek you are holding my dick, and I need you to do something. And I have no clue what it is, because this is the first time someone other than me has touched my dick since I was in diapers."

Derek looked at his hand, which was still holding Stiles' dick. He hadn't even realized focused on getting the last of the lotion on. He let go and they both stared as it didn't flop down, being half hard from the touch. Derek wondered if he should apologize, but he wasn't quite sure how you apologized for an almost handjob, that was more manhandling for the sake of wellness.

He decided to ignore it. And the half hard dick right there. Instead he went and grabbed another towel and tossed it on the couch.

"What's that for?"

"Equity and no bare ass on the couch," Derek said and shucked his clothes. Growing up, most of the wolves regularly had time where they just didn't wear clothes, especially in summer. Bodies were just bodies, it wasn't a big deal. "Since you are sick, I will allow the watching of cartoons. Cartoons help illness right?"

Stiles was just standing frozen, and Derek knew he was a Batman guy, so he put on Brave and the Bold. He wasn't in the mood for too serious and this one seemed fun. Should distract Stiles. He grabbed his book from the coffee table and settled in to read.

"I —you. You —I. Balls."

"Yup, we both have balls," Derek agreed and turned the page. "Sit and watch your show, and do not scratch or rub against the couch. It will make you look like flopping fish or dog in heat. Behave." There was some more gasping and flailing and eventually that flailing lead to Stiles sitting on his towel, oven mitts over his crotch. "Kinda funny."

"What's funny?" Stiles grumbled. "Me being naked with a guy on a couch who is also naked? Yeah, it's hilarious."

"No, the oven mitts have cherries on them."

"So?" Stiles then groaned, "are you really trying to make a virgin joke right freaking now at the most awkward moment of my life? I am so choosing to hate you for forever."

"That's fine." Derek smirked a bit. He was oddly amused by all of this, and he couldn't even explain why. But also. "Sorry for holding your dick for so long."

"It's fine." There was a huff. "And look, they piss me off, but yeah, I'd be scratching like crazy right now, so the mitts are valid. The lotion is helping, but you uhh, my face needs some I think. On the cheek?"

Derek looked and yeah, some were slowly cropping up on Stiles' cheek. He put down his book and reached for the lotion. He carefully dabbed it on. And a bit on the forehead too. "Scott said you hate your moles."

"I don't hate, I just…was an easy target for guys at the start of high school. Shapes your perspective."

"Honestly, you should hate your toes more, they are weirder."

"Thanks," Stiles laughed a bit. "What would you know about that?"

Derek put the lotion down, book back up. "I was the ugly duckling in the family," he said staring at the page. "My dad had to swear up and down I was not an adopted runt no matter what my siblings all said."

"Oh. Huh, well that sucks," Stiles said.

"Mom swore some wolves just took time. Took me forever to manage my first shift. Got teased so much by Laura, Dad got really creative in the punishments." Derek smiled a bit, remembering when he got to choose what Laura would wear for a whole week. "Puberty hit hard, really ugly for a year, and then sort of grew into everything. Your moles are fine, Stiles."

"Thanks."

They watched a few episodes of the cartoon, and he only had to swat Stiles a few times to stop from stealth scratching.

"Okay, so you know how you said there were two scenarios that got the gloves off? We are approaching the need for the one, and then maybe I try that bath? Then you can continue gaining pleasure from my humiliation here."

"No, humiliation kink isn't on the list," Derek said because, well, he didn't super know why. But he was finding it amusing…or something to joke about this stuff with Stiles. Perhaps because not like he could make these jokes with anyone else. He reached over and sliced through the tape with a claw. "If you scratch, you will regret it," he warned. He tossed Stiles the oatmeal bath stuff. "We clear?"

"Crystal, I misbehave you'll spank me," Stiles said. They both froze, and looked at each other. "Nah?" Stiles said after a moment.

"Nah," Derek agreed. What even was this conversation. He went to his bedroom, and stared at his phone. Who would he even talk about this with?

Fuck.

He dialed, "Hi, uh, it's Derek."

"Oh lord, what did he break now?"

Derek had to laugh at that. "No, uh, I taped oven mitts on him, it helped more than drugging him."

"Good call, son," there was a laugh, "seems I finally have another partner in crime for the care and survival of one Stiles Stilinski. Nice to get more strength in numbers. Especially since Melissa seems to be benched. You want to tell me what's going on with Scott and Stiles?"

Derek frowned a bit, "No?" He couldn't even really explain it. They were on one hand still incredibly close, but there was distance. "Normal teenage drifting?" As if anything was normal for Stiles anymore. "Scott has called with advice, and has dropped off stuff. He would have helped more but Chris Argent went out of town and well —"

"Hmm, fair enough, girlfriend would trump sick best friend, and Stiles would understand that," the sheriff said. "Need me to drop off food after my shift? You are going to have to ride herd on his ass enough today that you don't want to be cooking."

"I'm a werewolf," Derek blurted out. What the fuck super powers did Stilinskis have that made him just blurt out things. "I mean —"

"That you are a werewolf. Oh shit, wait I've been practicing my shocked response. What? How? What prank is this? I can't believe it, who could have ever known there was supernatural bullshit going on in this town?"

"So sarcasm is a genetic trait, good to know," Derek sighed, "how long have you known?"

That you are a werewolf? I knew your ma, a bit, when I was a a deputy. We agreed I would forget what happened and what I knew. Easier on everyone that way."

"Does Stiles know you know?"

"Nah, he needs to feel like he's keeping me safe by not telling me. We'll ride that train for a while yet. Now Chinese, burgers?"

"Burgers and curly fries would be good," Derek said after a moment. "You are okay with it?"

"Don't bite my kid, not unless it is life or death."

"I wouldn't, he doesn't want it. But also I think, I don't even know what I think. He's so Stiles."

"Yeah, that's what I said about his mother that first year I knew her, didn't know if I wanted to punch her or whisk her away on a horse, and make her dreams come true."

"You make it sound like I like Stiles." Derek was so lost.

"I hear you don't like anyone," was teased. "I'll drop food off around six. Now it is quiet there, and if I was you - I'd be damned scared of a quiet Stiles."

That was a really good point. Derek hung up and ran to the bathroom. "Are you alive?"

"Don't come in!"

There was panic and desperation in that call. He had already violated Stiles' space so much, what was one more time but still. "Are you currently shitting?"

"No? Just don't come in and goddammit, great boner dead now. Fine, whatever. Ugh!" was shouted.

Oh. Well, shit, he felt a bit bad about that.

Derek slowly opened the door, went into the bathroom. His tub looked disgusting. "Guess that stuff is helping you feel better?"

"I thought if I jerked off it would distract me from the itching," was whined. Stiles looked so sad. "It was sort of working but also was in the water which is looking so gross, and just, I fucking hate —"

"Me, I know."

"No," Stiles said in an oddly firm voice. "I hate this. You are trying your best, and I appreciate it, man, just it is the worst sort of luck that this happened. I kinda hate the mom who didn't vaccinate her kid, I hate each individual mark on my skin. I actually just would like to not be in my body at all right now, but I don't hate you."

"Thanks." Derek sat on the toilet. "That bath looks so…" he didn't even have words for it.

"This is all just so fucking stupid. And also I'm tired and getting out of the tub I don't know if I can do it."

Derek grabbed the last towel left in the bathroom and put it over his shoulder. "I can help."

He got a small nod and he helped Stiles stand, and just shook his head. "Stay." He pulled the plug, stepped into the tub, and, closed the curtain; shower was turned on, mostly hitting Stiles as he steadied the teen.

"Cold, cold! My dick will become an innie with this temp."

"You're fine," Derek dismissed, "give it a sec." The water quickly warmed, and the oatmeal slid off Stiles' skin. "I did not want that on the towel." Since they were there, he washed Stiles' hair, then his own, because it was just practical. He made sure that Stiles was rinsed clean and switched their spots.

"How do you not care about this much naked skin?" Stiles squeaked. Hands had dropped in front of himself. "Like I could be staring at your dick right now."

Derek shrugged as he rinsed out the shampoo. "Naked was the norm as a kid for a lot of us. Even though we were rich, Dad was like I'm not paying for new clothes every five seconds because our pups wolfed out, growth spurts are enough. Naked pack is just naked pack."

"Huh, so like if you saw Erica's boobs your dick wouldn't get all hey look quality boobs? Just naked pack chill?"

Derek turned off the water. "I don't know? And if I got hard, I wouldn't do anything about it. Not interested in fucking Erica." He stepped out, helped Stiles out too, carefully dried Stiles off to not irritate the spots. "We need to put lotion on again."

He dried himself and started to walk back downstairs.

Stiles followed. "Can I do it myself?"

"Can you promise you won't use putting on the lotion to stealth scratch?"

There was a frown and a grumble that was almost a growl. "Shut up," was muttered but Stiles didn't reach for the lotion. "Fine, pretty sure I have new ones near my ass crack, have fun with that."

Derek applied the lotion on Stiles back and yeah there were some new zones and he put it where it was needed. To Stiles' front, more lotion. When he reached hips he checked Stiles' face carefully but Stiles just raised an eyebrow. Derek waited but there was then a smirk and a wink. Fine. He applied the lotion, moving Stiles' dick to get the spot on his balls. "Dumbass, the water jerking off you chafed a bit."

"Well, I was trying to go fast in case a crazy wolf decided to barge in."

Lotion on he looked at Stiles. "You know what is next."

"Fine," was said the longest he had ever heard the word go. Oven mitts taped back on, and they were on the couch. "Music, no tv, hard to focus. Nap time."

Derek was fine with that, and went back to his book. He didn't know what to do, when Stiles tipped over and had his head on Derek's thigh. Snoring followed soon after. He touched Stiles' hair stroked it for a moment, and thought about how close Stiles was to his dick.

He reacted, he couldn't not. And he didn't know what to do about reacting to Stiles. Anyone else in the pack he wouldn't care, but he was thinking maybe he cared a little.

He was finding that he did perhaps think Stiles was cute.

That was annoying as shit.

Derek focused on his book, occasionally stroking Stiles' hair as the guy drooled on his thigh. He had to nudge Stiles three times as the guy tried to itch in his sleep.

The day passed with just chilling, reading, sometimes tackling Stiles to stop his attempts at scratching. He heard the loft door open but ignored it because he was currently chasing Stiles around the living room to get him to stop using beams to scratch his back. It pissed him off that he couldn't use actual speed or strength for fear of hurting Stiles.

"What the hell? Why are you both naked, oh my god, what is going on?"

"Scott my guy, that hit an octave you haven't since before puberty, maybe turn it down?" Stiles said.

"I was bringing you gatorade and more lotion and you two are —what are you doing?" Scott stood there and when Derek looked over his eyes were squeezed shut. "I don't want to know. Nope, oh god, are you two?"

Derek looked at Stiles who just shrugged, clueless. "Clothes are itchy?" Derek said after a moment.

"But why you, and that is so unfair!"

"What's unfair?" Derek was lost. Stiles was cracking up, but Derek was lost.

"Nothing," Scott's eyes were somehow squeezed shut tighter. "I also brought you my old DS, since Derek has nothing."

"Aww buddy, you're the best," Stiles said. "Let me hug you."

"No! You are naked and gooey and oh god, I'm going." Scott bolted out of there.

"What was he on about?" Derek asked.

"Don't worry about it, he was just being Scott."

Derek shrugged, not really caring. Because the distraction was enough and he caught Stiles, took him back to the couch. "If you won't stay put, I will make you stay put."

"Geneva, my guy," Stiles reminded him.

"Doesn't have any clauses about the supernatural." Back on the couch and he didn't tape Stiles to it, no matter how he wanted. Instead he angled them, so Stiles' back was against his chest, and he had the guy pinned in place. He reached into the bag and pulled out the handheld game thing. "Teach me how to play."

"Sure," Stiles squeaked and cracked. "I can do that."

A couple hours later, the loft door slid open and the sheriff walked in. Derek looked over, "It isn't how it looks?" he offered.

"Dad! What the fuck? Stay away, do not get closer. The whole point is so you don't get sick!"

"Language," the sheriff said. He put the bag of food down at the door, "Not getting any closer, but just wanted to see you."

Derek froze at the complete and simple scent of love that just surrounded Stiles in that moment. "Thanks, Dad. Derek is making real sure I don't itch."

"I can see that," was the reply to that. "I want plausible deniability until he is eighteen you hear?"

"Huh?" Derek and Stiles both said.

"Nothing, get better fast son, house is quiet without you."

"Thanks, Dad. And I won't even complain about the burger that I know is in the car for you."

"There is no burger, just like there is no naked touching," the sheriff replied. With a wave he was gone.

Derek eased from around Stiles, and went to get the food. "I'll explain to your dad later?" He offered a bit unsure.

"Don't worry about it, he knows I get weird when I'm sick, he'll absolutely blame me not you, not that any blame is needed. Oven mitts?"

Derek ignored that and held the food for Stiles to eat, which with a burger got a bit messy but they managed. A few hours later, another bath, more lotion, and Derek was putting Stiles in the bed.

"So uh, we know I itch in my sleep, even with the mitts, maybe you should sleep in the bed too, just to stop me?"

Stiles' heartbeat was suggesting it was a weird mix of truth and lie, but Derek didn't even put up a token protest, just slid into the bed, and wrapped himself around Stiles.

Just to stop the dumbass from scratching.

He breathed in, finding the scent of Stiles under all the medical lotion.

No other reason to hold Stiles tightly, just helping pack.

Chapter Text

Derek took a slow and deep breath. On the exhale the growl that he let out would absolutely cower the betas. Stiles, of course, just stuck out his tongue. "Stiles," he warned. He stalked forward and damn if Stiles didn't hold his ground. "I am warning you."

"I'm bored, Derek!" Stiles shouted, uncaring. "I'm so fucking bored, I could scream." And sure enough a primal scream was let out that hurt Derek's ears. "I have been staring at your walls for ten days now, with zero outside time, and if I don't get out, I will murder you. And trust me, Derek, I have been bored, so I have figured out how to do it."

Derek fully and completely believed him. He also didn't care. "Scott said two weeks. The internet says two weeks. Your dad says two weeks. You still have scabs!" He pointed at Stiles' chest. "As long as you have scabs you might still be able to make people sick."

"Ugh, there is also some medical belief that at this point I am not likely to spread it. Derek, look this hasn't been as bad as I would have thought, but I'm a bird."

"What?" that froze Derek for a moment and then he lurched forward and sniffed Stiles. "How did I miss you becoming a shape shifter? Owl, Ravens, those are the most common. Actually if you are beholden to the Raven Queen, that could be useful." He breathed in but he didn't scent the goddess on Stiles. It was just Stiles.

"Wow, okay, I know you read. Like a lot, so how did you miss that was a metaphor?" Stiles was laughing at him, and Derek nipped at Stiles' throat in retaliation. They both froze at the scent of confusion and arousal that emerged from both of them. Derek was happy they both were back in pants.

Or maybe he wasn't.

He had no fucking clue about anything with Stiles anymore.

Derek eased away. "Metaphor, right." He crossed his arms. "So what?"

"I need to fly, Derek," was said. "Please."

Derek thought about it. And honestly if he didn't get out to run, he'd lose it soon as well. Apartment workouts stopped being enough two days ago. He nodded. "Shirt," was all he said and Stiles scrambled to where his stuff was and a shirt was tossed to him as well. It was a Stiles shirt. One that had been worn and smelled like Stiles.

Derek put it on. It was a big snug, but he really didn't want to take it off.

"Shit, my bad," Stiles said and reached out.

"No," Derek growled, "it's fine."

Stiles looked at him and Derek had no idea what to do when Stiles disappeared and then returned in one of Derek's shirts. They stared at each other. "Out?" Stiles sounded hesitant, which was funny after all his pleading to go out.

"Out," Derek said after a moment.

He drove them out to the preserve. "If anyone is on a walk, we can avoid them."

"Sure, sure," Stiles bolted out of the car, was spinning his arms and singing that shitty opening song from the sound of music. Derek ignored it. He took a few steps and the air hit him and he was running.

Fuck, it felt good. He just completely let go, and it was likely going to bite him in the ass that he abandoned Stiles, but he needed this. He ran and ran, let the fresh air fill his lungs. He ran until all the thoughts that had been swirling painfully around in his brain for the last few days, finally quieted.

The quiet was so damn nice.

He finally slowed down, stopped when he found himself back at the house. He hadn't even realized he had been circling towards it. But he wasn't surprised. It didn't hurt today to see the house. It did some days, but today he just sat on the porch.

"Okay, has outside always smelled this good?" Stiles asked as he approached. "Because it smells extra great."

Derek smiled a little bit. "Come on," he said. They went in the house and he showed Stiles where to step so he didn't fall through the stairs. On the second floor they stood at the edge of burned wood where there should be house and wasn't. "This was where my room was. I was beside my parents' room. Their room was soundproof, ours weren't."

"Okay?"

Derek smiled a bit, "ever get caught by your dad?"

Stiles snorted, a bit red, "he and I agreed that we would never speak of that moment. It didn't happen, and oh my god wolf hearing."

"My dad bought me lube and said even with wolf healing, one shouldn't use lotion when they finger themselves, use proper tools for proper jobs." Derek started laughing, "And then it got worse."

"How? How could it get worse than that?"

"Peter gave me the sex talk, since he had had a wild youth quote unquote."

Derek could feel Stiles looking at him. "You are stronger than I ever imagined," was said in awe —half joke, half dead serious. "Because I would have died on the spot."

"I debated it," Derek muttered. "Want to know more?"

"About the Peter sex talk, oh fuck no. But your family? Yeah," Stiles said.

Derek walked about the ruins and told Stiles about his family. It was halting and sometimes words left him completely. But he pushed through. "Mom would have loved you."

"You've said that before, why? Usually parents during playdates would end up calling mine, saying that maybe they could send me over not hopped up on sugar. Melissa was the only one who really understood. People find me annoying."

"You are," Derek said, but continued before Stiles could react, "but like not bad annoying." He went to the living room. He pointed, "Mom had a chair there, you would have joked about it being a throne and teased her about it. She would glare and you'd make fun of that too. It would have made all the little ones laugh, and the minute she heard those giggles, she would have smiled just a little."

"And what did a little smile mean?"

"That she adored you, and would have died for you."

"Sounds pretty great."

"She was a good alpha, I can't live up to her."

"Nope, you've been kinda shit at it," Stiles agreed, "but also not. You would die for all of us, we know that. Just be nice if you realized maybe you could live for us too." Stiles blinked. "Wow, self help book there much, Stiles? Sorry." There was an awkward laugh. "Ignore me, I no not what I say. All that fresh air, made me stupid."

Derek looked at him. "It will be too quiet when you go home," was all he could say. He left, they should get back. Stiles walked beside him, and they were quiet the whole drive back.

After dinner, Derek was forced to put the oven mitts back on Stiles because he started fussing at a few of the scabs on his arm. "Stop that! You are so close to getting out of here with only that pox mark on your ass."

"I know, but they are killing me, it is worse than before," Stiles whined. "And at this point the lotion or bath is doing fuck all."

"You only have a few left, you are mostly healed. You don't want the scars."

"I know that dumbass," was snapped back, "but if you haven't noticed there isn't a lot to distract me."

"Movie?" Derek knew that wouldn't cut it. He just got a sneer. "Board game, I'll move the pieces."

"No, you get pouty that I always win."

"Because you cheat," Derek was fraying. Because it was true, at this point what would actually distract Stiles? "Hand job," he said, not even realizing he would say it until it was out.

They stared at each other.

Stiles nodded, "that, uh, that would definitely distract me," he said, choking on words a bit. "That would indeed be very distracting."

Derek snorted a bit at the idiot, his idiot. He grabbed the oven mitt and dragged Stiles over to the bed. He settled against the back, and manhandled Stiles in between his legs, so that Stiles' back was against his chest. He nipped at Stiles' neck, nuzzled.

Stiles tilted his head to give him access.

Derek growled a bit at the easy submission. "Pretty," he said.

That got a noise of derision, "my guy, I know your pack. I'm better looking than Scott, though."

Derek didn't try to work on Stiles' self esteem, because he was the last person who should do that. Instead he rubbed a hand up and down Stiles' chest and made his way down to the sweatpants. He palmed Stiles over top the fabric and that got a moan, a squirm against him. Stiles moving against him like that was going to get him off, he just knew it.

Derek teased Stiles, kept his hand over the fabric, not yet touching bare skin. Stiles was restless and arching, seeking.

Derek wanted him begging. "Say what you want," Derek whispered.

"Oh fuck you, and all that alpha bullshit," Stiles snapped. "We're goddamn equal in this, because don't think I can't feel your hard on under me there pal. You want me to say what I want. Fine. Derek hand, on Stiles dick. There how's that?"

It was incredibly awkward to fall in love with a complete jackass. And yet, it seemed here he was. He growled a bit and pushed the sweatpants, the underwear out of the way, and there was Derek hand, on Stiles dick. They both moaned at the first intimate touch between them that wasn't for medical purposes. Derek stroked up and thumbed the tip, pressed against the slit.

"Eep."

He had expected a moan or a curse, and got an eep. Derek laughed perhaps for the first time ever during sex, and of course that happened with Stiles. He kept kissing Stiles' neck, and he loved the way that Stiles reached up and had a hand in his hair. Later he'd find out how Stiles got the oven mitt off without Derek noticing.

Stiles' cock started to leak, and that made the glide of his hand smoother. He was enjoying the lap dance that this was giving him. They were quiet, and he had been sure that Stiles would be mouthy during sex considering how he never shut up otherwise. But it was just breath, moan, and the like.

Stiles was getting close which wasn't a surprise, first hand job and all. Derek tightened his grip, and sucked a hard bruise onto Stiles' neck. That was enough and Stiles finally spoke and it was just a simple shout of Derek's name, as the orgasm had him spurting all over Derek's hand.

Derek held him until Stiles was soft and he was wondering about asking Stiles for similar when Stiles began to laugh.

"What?"

"Think you accidentally ripped off the pox scab on my balls while you were jerking me off." Stiles couldn't stop laughing. Derek looked at his come covered hand, and wiped it all over Stiles' face, which just had the guy laughing more.

"Idiot," he said.

"Your idiot," Stiles replied and Derek couldn't disagree. "Want me to help you out there?" There was a pause and Derek pulled on the very little patience he had because he had a feeling Stiles might say something good. "Or…I could watch you? Jerk off? I mean? I kinda might like watching that?"

Derek was very on board with that idea. Stiles moved to sit at the end of the bed and Derek pushed his own sweats down. He hand still had a bit of Stiles on it and he loved the idea of pressing that against his own cock, which was hard and leaking.

Derek stroked himself off and when he looked at Stiles, Stiles would always meet his gaze before the eyes would drop back down. Stiles looked…hungry. But never reached out or bent close. Just watched. It was Derek's turn to call Stiles' name as he stroked himself through one hell of an orgasm. And he couldn't help himself, rubbed his once again filthy hand across Stiles' face. This time not in revenge, but to mark the teen as his. It would be washed off shortly, but he'd know it had been done.

They stared at each other, awkward silence as they both had their dicks out, Stiles filthy. Stiles began to laugh again, and Derek found himself doing the same.

Two days later he drove Stiles home. They sat in the car, stared at the house. "You probably have a ton of school work to catch up on," Derek realized. "Shit, were people supposed to drop that off for you?"

"Probably, yeah," Stiles clued in. He started to text and smiled, "Aww, they all split my work between them, that's so sweet. And a bit creepy that Lydia can copy my writing?"

"Not so long ago, you would have taken that as a declaration of love," Derek pointed out.

"Sure, but that ship sailed, bon voyage, and all, wish it well." Stiles put his phone away. "I know I was a pain in the ass."

"We didn't get that far," Derek replied and just closed his eyes, because yes he had actually said that.

"Wait, it could get that far?" Stiles shouted which hurt in the confines of the car. "We could have gotten that far in the last couple days, and we didn't? What the hell?"

"Your dad wants plausible deniability! I can't lie to a Stilinksi I'm finding out!" Derek waved a hand at the house. "I would say hello, how are you sir, your son is really great at drilling me into the mattress! And then I would have to keep on living because the universe hates me enough it wouldn't allow me to die in that moment. And now I sound as stupid as you! You infected me." He pointed at Stiles. "This is all your fault. Go inside."

Stiles was staring at him in shock. "I I I wha???"

Derek gripped the steering wheel. "Talk to you next evil thing tries to kill us."

"Like hell," Stiles snapped and was kissing him. "You get to enjoy your loft to yourself for forty eight hours, and then it begins."

Derek was terrified, honest to god terrified. "What begins?"

"It begins," Stiles repeated darkly and left the car.

Derek debated driving to Canada, but just went home. To a loft that smelled like Stiles, but didn't sound like Stiles. It sucked.

He began to countdown forty eight hours.

And found himself heartbroken when he didn't hear Stiles enter the building when that number ran out. It took longer than it should have to realize that was because Stiles would be at lacrosse practice. He could wait.

He phone rang, and he answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, son, turns out we are out of a couple things, can you grab them on your way over?" The sheriff's voice rang through the voice, "No, put that over there, I'll deal with it tomorrow. No tomorrow, my kid is having his boyfriend over for dinner for the first time tonight, and crime can goddamn wait for one night." A pause, "Sorry about that, anyways, Stiles insists we have salad with our venison lasagna, but we have no tomatoes, cucumber, or salad dressing. And son, if you care about me at all, don't get the healthy dressing."

"Sorry," Derek couldn't have stopped the smile that was spreading on his face if he tried, "Stiles wants you alive, and so do I. But I'll get low fat, not no fat."

"I'll take it, six is what Stiles told you? Because as much as I want to ignore my desk, it is looking more like six thirty for me."

Stiles didn't tell him shit, but he had a feeling this was something that Stiles had arranged with his dad. "Yeah, I'll head over at six."

"Plausible deniability," was what was said instead of goodbye.

Derek showered, put on decent clothes and hit the grocery store, got what he was told and headed to the house. He knocked on the door and there was Stiles with an evil grin.

"You're an idiot," Derek said for the millionth time. "I'm not calling you my boyfriend."

"Sure, call it whatever you want, buddy," Stiles agreed. The grin was sharp. "It has begun."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Groceries."

Stiles took the bag, and Derek followed him into the house. It smelled good, Stiles smelled good. Not a drop of sick lingering on him. And he also smelled happy. Because Derek was there.

Derek's presence made someone bone deep happy. "Fine, we're boyfriends," he muttered.

"My little wuvwolf," Stiles said in the worst cutesy voice ever.

"I"m going to kill you," Derek declared, and pounced, deliberately missing as Stiles ran. They ran around the house shouting insults at each other, until he caught Stiles in the foyer, taking them both to the ground, and they stared at each other. "Why?" was all Derek could ask.

Stiles shrugged, "because I'm a sucker for a nurse. World War One, would have fallen so hard for you while you tended my wounds."

Derek nipped at Stiles' throat. "Dumbass."

"Yeah well, you aren't the sharpest tool in the shed either pal, because uhh -" Stiles didn't finish the sentence and Derek looked up to see the sheriff standing there, looking at them on top of each other, in the foyer, in a position that was easy to make assumptions about. "Hey, Dad."

"Interesting interpretation of plausible deniability there. I'm going to shower, get food on the table in ten."

"Yes, sir," they both said as they stood.

"I hate you," Derek hissed to Stiles.

"Nah, you love me," Stiles replied and whistled on his way to the kitchen. Derek followed and took what Stiles handed him to the table. The three sat and ate, and it was nice. The sheriff told him a story about his parents that he didn't know and it hurt and healed at the same time.

Stiles' hand squeezed his thigh and a kiss was pressed to his shoulder.

"Fine, I love you," he sighed, and regretted his life choices that brought him to that place.

"So what should we name our kids?" Stiles asked. "I was thinking like Penelope or Gareth. Those are fun names."

"Now son, I was hoping my grandchildren would carry on your mother's name, keep her alive and all. Maybe middle name?"

"Oh, good point," Stiles agreed.

Derek listened to the both of them ramble on about baby names, clearly just to torture him. Because Stiles absolutely got his trolling from his father.

"I had chocolate cake hidden in my car. Shame I'm taking it back to my loft, and not sharing with either of you."

Twin looks of horror stared at him.

"You can name our babies," Stiles swiftly offered.

"Damn right," Derek agreed and went to get the cake. Only at the car did he realize that he had fundamentally agreed to having kids with Stiles one day.

"Oh god, they are going to get sick and I'll have to be the one to deal with it," he said to himself and shuddered in horror. They had years before this was a concern, and hopefully he'd be able to convince Stiles they should adopt some wolves.

He brought the cake in and watched Stiles and his dad argue about how big a slice the sheriff was allowed to have. The sheriff tried to get Derek on his side, but Stiles molten glare was enough to get Derek to agree with his boyfriend.

Later when he got up to leave, he found a hand gripping him.

"Sleeping is hard without you," Stiles admitted.

Derek glanced at the sheriff who just mouthed plausible deniability and said he was going to watch some t.v.

"I could stay," Derek offered.

"How long?"

"As long as you want." Derek hugged Stiles.

"Going to be awhile. Like really while, the whilest ever."

"I'll need more clothes then. And also we will spend time at the loft, because we are not doing fuck all with your dad down the hall."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" was shouted back and then the sheriff was there.

"We're headed to Derek's place, don't worry I'll get to school on time, promise." Stiles smiled sweetly.

Both Derek and the sheriff snorted at that look. But they were just waved off. Stiles ran upstairs, grabbed some clothes.

In Derek's car, Stiles grinned "wanna know what else begins tonight?" His hand moved up Derek's thigh.

Derek sped up, getting them home in record time.