A/N: I've returned with more Sterek! Full credit on this one must be given to kasienkanikki who suggested the idea to me. I hope you like my interpretation!

Stiles doesn't understand why Derek hasn't ever offered him the bite the way he did with Erica and the others. When Derek asks if Stiles really wants to be offered the bite the way he offered it to Erica and Stiles says yes, Derek follows through, but might get more than he bargained for. Stiles POV.

Enjoy!

Seduction Tactics Are Cheating

'Everyone but Derek is on reconnaissance tonight, including Scott. Derek wanted you to know. Don't do anything stupid on your own. Check with him first.'

Stiles scowls at the text from Erica. Stupid like what? Like go after the kanima alone, when no wolves will be around to save him? Stiles is usually the one saving them.

Not that Stiles really wants to be mad at Erica, because they are totally cool now that she is toning down the uber-bitch routine and acting more like just an ultra-sexy version of herself. But still. Everyone but Derek? Like Stiles isn't part of the 'everyone'.

So when Stiles pulls up to the abandoned subway/warehouse/Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle lair that Derek calls home now it is so not to 'check in', or because Derek is the only wolf he can be around tonight, and therefore be safe. Stiles doesn't want to be safe by being around the wolves, he wants to be safe on his own, or at least be able to keep himself safe.

But no, he's the lone human in this merry band of pubescent monster babies, and not once has Derek ever offered him the bite.

Alison he understands being left out because, hello, hunter with a family of crazed hunters, and Lydia's apparently immune, and they're already dealing with Jackson's bite fallout, but there's Scott who was already a beta, and now Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. And okay, so pack dynamics are starting to fall into place finally, because Derek is actually manning up—wolfing up?—as an Alpha, and Scott's being really useful, like, as a person, with ideas, which Stiles is pretty sure has never happened before.

And so is Stiles. Being really useful. Stiles, the only straight up normal, just your basic human. Actually, Stiles has been supremely helpful in saving pretty much all of their asses, Derek has even admitted it, and that he and Alison are both pack. So why hasn't he offered Stiles the bite? He would make a way better wolf than Erica. Okay, so again, Stiles has started to get back on the Erica-might-not-be-so-bad train, but still. Erica?!

Why not him?

Stiles' internal monologue is still running on full sprint as he shuffles down into Derek's den—as Stiles has started to call it, though 'lair' is still very appropriate—so he doesn't really notice Derek peek his head out of the subway car with a raised eyebrow at him.

"Stiles," Derek says, sounding annoyed, like he's already said Stiles' name several times and doesn't have time for this, even though he doesn't look all that involved with anything as he moves toward Stiles in his usual ensemble of grey shirt and jeans. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles feels his eyes narrow because, really, why does Derek always have to be so confrontational? And because Stiles was in mid-thought when Derek interrupted him, and he'll be damned before he stops his stream of consciousness just because his thoughts are pouring into words now.

"Why haven't you ever offered me the bite?"

Derek stops a few feet from Stiles, honestly caught off guard.

"I mean...Erica? Really? I get that in some weird, still totally selfish way you were trying to help them all out, but at least I contribute. I'd be a great asset for the pack. I already am! But no, not Stiles, he just has a car, and straight A's, and does all our research, and holds people up in pools for hours on end; he's not cut out to be a wolf." Stiles finishes his rant in his most ridiculous impersonation of Derek ever, complete with ending growl, because Derek growls about everything.

Tonight, Derek just rolls his eyes and walks away.

"Hey!"

"Go home, Stiles. Everyone else is out."

Everyone else.

Stiles grits his teeth, following behind Derek with clenched fists. "Hello, I do exist. Don't I deserve an answer?"

"I make the decision on who is offered the bite. No other part of it is your concern," Derek says without turning, moving toward the center of the large room, where random furniture and obstacles for training are accompanied by a few pieces of actual furniture, like the sofa Stiles helped Scott bring in one day as a sort of 'den warming' gift, not that they were ever thanked for it.

"Not my concern? You're such a dick, Derek." Stiles continues following right on Derek's heels. "I saved your life. More than once. You're trying to build a strong pack, you admit I'm part of it, but you won't offer me the bite? I'm not even saying I want it, but it'd be nice to be asked, ya know? Am I so useless to you?"

"Stiles—"

"No. Seriously." Stiles is so fired up, so off on his tangent and taking advantage of how Derek hasn't tried to forcefully shut him up yet, that he follows the force of his momentum and backs Derek up against a large, metal table in the center of the room when the Alpha finally turns around. "I deserve a straight answer. Why haven't you ever offered me the bite like you did with Erica?"

It seriously infuriates Stiles that Derek doesn't even look annoyed like usual, or angry. He looks amused. "You want me to offer you the bite...like I did with Erica?"

"Yeah."

"Exactly the way I did with Erica?"

Stiles blinks. "Uhh...yeah?"

"You sure?"

The way Derek is dragging this out snaps something in Stiles and he yells, "Yes, damn it, I'm asking, aren't I?!"

A side of Derek's mouth quirks up in that maddening, I'm-so-much-better-than-you-in-every-way-possible smirk, and the next thing Stiles knows, he's on the table, and the room's still spinning from however Derek got him there.

But it's weird because he's not pushed up against the table, or thrown down on top of it; Derek has him just sitting on the edge...while Derek moves in between Stiles' legs.

Stiles swallows, all the fight and fury suddenly rushing out of him, because he's alone with Derek Hale and he was screaming at him, and Stiles has absolutely no way to defend himself.

Fucking werewolves.

"Well, in that case...the first thing I did with Erica...was pull her into this position," Derek says, his expression placid now, totally blank and unreadable, even though his hands are gripping Stiles' denim-covered thighs. "I listed off all the things she's had to deal with that she wouldn't have to worry about anymore if she accepted my offer...like feeling scared, and unwanted, and alone. Is that how you're feeling, Stiles?" Derek's hazel eyes are luminous in the dim lighting of the room.

Stiles wants to be angry, because he knows Derek is teasing him, and it isn't fair; Stiles is being serious. "Derek..."

"All she was wearing was a hospital gown...and I felt like she was really listening..." Derek goes on, moving his hands slowly up Stiles' thighs, further and further upward toward his hips, which seems even more intimate than it actually is when Stiles' brain starts imagining himself with bare legs, in a hospital gown with nothing underneath.

He swallows again.

Derek gets his hands on Stiles hips and tugs him that much closer to the edge of the table, closer to Derek, who's right there, like, right there, only another half inch away from them touching at a very personal angle, especially with Stiles' legs spread apart.

As Derek leans in close enough for Stiles to feel the warmth of his breath, a large and very warm hand slides up his cheek, caressing the side of his face with gentle fingertips brushing the short strands of his hair.

Stiles shudders.

"I told her I could make everything better," Derek whispers, teasingly close to Stiles' lips, "And you know...I think she would have let me bite her right then, even before I explained the details, even before she understood what it meant when my eyes flashed like this." Red overtakes Derek's eyes as he says that, just a flicker of Alpha power, totally filling Stiles' vision with crimson since Derek is so close.

Stiles has completely forgotten why he was so angry when he came here tonight, has completely forgotten all thought process other than Derek being closer to him than he's been since the pool, when Stiles was desperately clinging to him to keep them both afloat.

Stiles unconsciously scoots that last half inch closer, feeling their groins touch—connect—and that's just it. A moan leaves Stiles' throat as he throws himself forward onto Derek's lips, which were barely a hair's breadth away from him anyway, and damn does Derek feel better than Stiles could ever have imagined, and taste better, too, he thinks, as he slips his tongue past willing lips and...

And then realizes they are stunned lips, not necessarily willing, and Derek has completely frozen against him and is not kissing him back.

Shit.

Stiles pulls away slowly, realizing that when he threw himself forward, he also threw his arms around Derek's neck, and now he is all up against Derek, while Derek is stiff as a board, and not in the good, very obvious way that Stiles currently is.

"Uhhh...so...you were just messing around...weren't you?" Stiles says with a stuttering breathiness to his words, arms still wrapped around Derek's neck because he's a bit too mortified to move away completely just yet. Stiles blinks at the wide hazel eyes only a couple inches away from him.

"Yeah," Derek says slowly, like that should have been obvious, though he doesn't sound homicidal so much as completely floored by this development. Then he blinks back at Stiles and he doesn't look quite as shocked but...confused, and maybe a little curious judging by the way his head tilts. "But you weren't," he says, and it isn't a question.

Under Derek's scrutinizing stare, Stiles decides he definitely needs to remove himself from the situation or risk being mauled. Rather than open his mouth—coz when has that ever helped him in a situation like this—Stiles tries to slide around Derek and off the table.

A hand slamming down on the tabletop on either side of him stops that idea. Derek is suddenly leaning in close enough that Stiles is forced to lean back, though Derek is still positioned between his legs, and they're still somewhat touching, so…

So Stiles' mind goes blank as he realizes he's pushed way beyond the limit this time and Derek is going to kill him. Really kill him. In cold blood. With no witnesses. Right now!

Stiles closes his eyes, waiting for the inevitable mutilating to begin, but the first thing he feels isn't the tearing of teeth and claws, it's breath, real close to his face again, and then…skin—Derek's hand, not claws. Derek is sliding his fingers and palm over Stiles' cheek again, until he has a gentle hold around Stiles' jaw and behind his ear where the touch tickles just a bit. Stiles opens his eyes just long enough to see hazel coming in fast, and then…skin again.

The kiss is entirely different with Derek in control, especially since this time he is actually participating. It isn't at all the way Stiles imagined a kiss from Derek would be like, either, because it's hungry and insistent, sure, but it's also tender and cautious—like he wants to be sure Stiles approves of everything he is doing.

Stiles' arms tighten and wrap more fully around Derek's neck, and with the Alpha still settled in close, lifting his legs up to wrap around Derek's waist comes only too naturally as a follow-up. Stiles is definitely all up against Derek now, symbiotic relationship kind of close, and Derek is kissing him like first kisses are supposed to be—soft and unsure and totally awesome.

Curled around Derek like a twisted up pipe cleaner, Stiles groans into the now very willing mouth against his, feeling the gentle but possessive strokes of Derek's tongue, and he can't help bucking his hips forward for a moment of satisfying friction.

Derek leans back with a gasp, pulling away only for Stiles to slide across the table after him, still clinging tight. Derek's face has a subtle flush of color to it now, which Stiles knows means his own face is probably as red as his hoodie. But Derek is flushed because of him, and a little breathless, and not at all pissed off looking. In fact, when Derek glances down to see how Stiles is attached tightly to his waist, heels pressing just slightly into Derek's firm ass, while Stiles' erection is more than apparent between them, the Alpha simply looks amused again.

Yep, Stiles definitely sees amusement as Derek looks up into his eyes and one of his thick, dark eyebrows raises. "Stiles…"

Stiles tries not to blush too much darker than he already is. "Uhh…well…teenager," he says, making no move to untangle himself.

Derek chuckles in a way that's familiar, like those rare times when Derek is honestly amused by Stiles' antics—okay, so Derek is usually laughing at Stiles' expense on those occasions, but still. He looks less broody and stalkerish for a moment, and even almost…happy.

Then, just when Stiles thinks he can relax and maybe go in for another kiss, Derek's expression shifts, like he has suddenly realized something important, and then he is trying to pull away.

Stiles firmly holds the older man in place.

"Stiles…" Derek narrows his eyes in warning.

"Dude, you kissed me that time."

Derek growls, probably because he doesn't have any other comeback, seeing as how Stiles isn't wrong. He is silent a moment before he roughly asks, "How long has this been going on?"

"Uh…well, I got my first boner…"

"Stiles."

Stiles tosses Derek a sideways grin, knowing better than to try and lie at this point. "Probably...since that time you pushed me up against my bedroom door. Maybe earlier." He pauses, but then sees the look of confusion and worry on Derek's face. "I'm not a masochist or anything, I just…always knew you wouldn't really hurt me."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. Really." Stiles speaks with confidence and then realizes how true it is, and how he isn't really scared now, either. He releases Derek's neck and moves his hands to hold either side of Derek's face, running his thumbs over the stubble. He feels Derek tense beneath his grip but he starts to lean in anyway.

Derek holds just out of reach. "This is a bad idea."

Stiles sighs. "How do you know unless we try it a little more?"

"Because I tend to be drawn to bad ideas."

"Derek…"

"You're just a kid. You don't know what you want."

"What about what you want?"

Derek's mouth opens with a ready reply but nothing comes out. His brow furrows and he looks like he honestly doesn't know what he wants, doesn't have an answer at all, and the truth of that pains him, making him look so vulnerable that Stiles is struck speechless.

Once again, Derek tries to pull away, but Stiles stops him, keeping his legs wrapped tight, his body close, and his hands on Derek's face. Derek growls threateningly at Stiles, bearing his fangs and letting his eyes flicker red.

Stiles focuses on the truth he just learned—that Derek would never hurt him. Then he realizes another truth and can't help saying, "You know you could get away if you really wanted to."

Everything is still and silent for a moment. Then Derek is grabbing Stiles around the waist, and Stiles braces himself to be thrown across the room into the nearest hard—or possibly jagged—surface. Instead, Stiles feels himself lifted up easily by Derek's strength and then—

Stiles gasps as the wind is knocked from him with the force of being slammed onto his back on the table. He sucks in air, a little dizzy and maybe a little worried, before he realizes he's still attached to Derek, even though he's lying back on the table now, and Derek is moving to settle on top of his body. Stiles feels both anxious and triumphant when hazel eyes come into view again.

Emboldened, Stiles reaches up and grabs Derek by the front of his T-shirt, intent on pulling him down into another kiss. The next second, Stiles' wrists are pinned to the table instead and Derek is leaning over him, eyes shimmering, though not red.

"Don't you ever behave?" Derek growls, not giving away whether or not he's being playful or if he simply intends to hold Stiles down until he gives this up.

Stiles decides to bet on playful. "Not if you keep me in this position, Big Guy." He accentuates his statement with another buck of his hips and can acutely feel just how hard Derek is, much as the Alpha wouldn't admit it.

Derek's eyes narrow further, daring Stiles to comment, to say anything about his tell-tale reaction, but for once Stiles knows that silence is his best weapon.

A few breathless, quiet moments pass, and then—because surely the silence is deafening, Stiles thinks—Derek is the one pushing down into him, grinding experimentally but firm. Stiles' wrists continue to be pressed into the table, all of Derek's weight on him now, though not suffocating, just present and somehow comforting and a whole lot of sexy.

Closing his eyes to enjoy Derek's hesitant but constant rhythm atop him, Stiles is certain he is dreaming, or hallucinating, or maybe dead—he tripped on his way into Derek's lair and is lying one-of-the-above at the bottom of the stairs. But whether this moment is real or not, Stiles isn't about to look a gift-wolf in the mouth. Well, he wouldn't mind doing a few things with Derek's mouth…

Stiles starts to pant, moving in time with Derek's thrusts, and feeling himself tremble and twitch, and damn he really needs Derek to let his wrists go so he can touch something! Or maybe kiss again, that would be nice. So Stiles opens his eyes, but only to find Derek's eyes closed above him. Stiles tries to lean up for another kiss anyway, only he can't quite reach, so he ends up flicking his tongue out and catching Derek's lips with the tip.

Hazel eyes blink heavily open and Derek rumbles out a—maybe aroused more than angry—growl. "You're so damn fidgety…and annoying…and infuriating…and—"

"Yeah…you drive me crazy too," Stiles smiles wide, not ceasing any of his fidgety, annoying, or infuriating movements, but instead trying again to reach up for a kiss.

Derek growls louder and launches himself at Stiles' mouth like he's attacking it, which he pretty much is for how he claims Stiles' lips, and how Stiles would swear he can feel the way-too-hot-to-be-fair prick of fangs. There is a continuous rumble from Derek now, and combined with the teeth and the way Stiles feels the slight trail of claws as Derek finally releases his wrists and begins to slowly run his nails down the inside of Stiles' forearms, and then to his shoulders, and over his thin T-shirt beneath the hoodie…

Stiles so doesn't mewl like a wounded bunny.

Only he so does.

Because how can he not be beyond turned on when Derek Hale, Alpha extraordinaire—okay, so Derek may be the worst Alpha ever, but Stiles isn't about to tell him that right now—is totally losing his cool and giving into his wolf side because of Stiles. And that would be scary if Stiles couldn't feel how Derek is only gently tracing his skin with those sharp claws as he slips his hands underneath Stiles' T-shirt, not even close to breaking the skin or leaving behind anything other than faint red lines.

Stiles is grateful that the claws disappear, however, when Derek grips the edges of his T-shirt and pulls both that and Stiles' hoodie off and onto the floor. Stiles immediately wants to return the favor, but Derek beats him to it, tearing his own shirt off over his head before returning to assault Stiles' neck and the juncture of his collarbone with safe, flat teeth and a skilled tongue. Human hands slide up Stiles' chest, and he almost admits aloud that he misses the claws right before he feels their inevitable return, just a slight edge and sharpness to Derek's otherwise frenzied pawing at him.

With his own hands free now, Stiles reaches out for Derek's shoulders, so broad and firm, and then slides down Derek's muscular arms, before moving up again, all the way up into Derek's hair where he grips tight.

Derek's renewed growl sounds more like a purr now, his nose digging into the spot right behind Stiles' left ear, where he inhales deeply and nuzzles against the skin and tiny hairs. Stiles can't help finding the obvious show of wolf instincts unbelievably hot...and complementary.

"The, uhh...similarities...with when you turned Erica...are over now, right?"

Derek growls low in response, licking around the rim of Stiles' ear. "Significantly...over."

Stiles bucks up into Derek again, sort of agonized over the fact that they're both still wearing jeans. He realizes that still having his legs wrapped around Derek's waist doesn't make it any easier to remove said jeans, but before he can think of how best to remedy the situation, he feels Derek start to stiffen, brought a little too much back to his senses by their brief exchange of words. Derek is thinking, thinking of all the reasons they shouldn't be doing this, and Stiles needs to think of a way to distract him back into the moment—quick.

So, with Derek tucked into his neck and shoulder, Stiles has pretty easy access to Derek's neck and shoulder, and while a small part of his brain—probably the part that currently doesn't have alot of blood rushing to it—might have thought better of the idea, the rest of Stiles can't imagine anything hotter...than sinking his teeth into the tender flesh beneath Derek's ear.

Derek's hips stutter in response and the Alpha roars. Stiles feels Derek's hands move frantically for his arms where they grip him hard—too hard, to the point where Stiles can feel the prick of claws a little too close to puncturing his skin. But Derek is panting and rubbing his face along Stiles' neck like he has to mark him now, all over, or he'll go crazy, and Stiles feels a sense of triumph again.

He lets his teeth sink in just a little deeper, tasting the salty sweat on Derek's skin, though of course nowhere near deep enough to draw blood. Still, it's oddly empowering to mark Derek like this, especially when Derek is clearly struggling to not bite Stiles in return.

When Stiles pulls back, he runs his tongue over the marks he's left behind, but he is a little disappointed to open his eyes and watch how quickly they heal and disappear.

Damn. Guess I won't be leaving any reminders.

Stiles fondly licks at the spot on Derek's neck where the marks had been, but he only swipes out his tongue once, twice, before Derek is suddenly moving off of him. Stiles worries he's crossed the line again right before he feels himself dragged down the length of the table to the edge as Derek's hands start to fumble with his fly. Stiles lifts his hips to better allow Derek to pull his jeans off, which means they are disconnected for the first time, but while Stiles mourns the loss of their warm, firm, interlocking hips, he can't help being grateful to finally be free of denim.

Pressing his head back into the cold, hard table beneath him, Stiles takes a few deep breaths to distract himself this time, because Derek is pulling his shorts down, and Stiles is completely naked now, and ridiculously hard, and oh god this is really happening.

Stiles peeks down at the end of the table, where Derek has already shimmied free of his own jeans and shorts, and his eyes are flickering red with half his features morphed into beta form. Stiles swallows, staring at the point where his legs are dangling over the edge and his erection is standing at attention…just as Derek slides his in next to it, teasingly touching.

Gibberish races across Stiles' brain. The table is biting into his back but he really can't care, not when Derek grinds forward against him, bracing his clawed hands on either side of Stiles' hips on the table as their erections press together. The table is so cold and their bodies so hot—Stiles can't think. He's pretty sure he's talking now, ranting out nonsense—which isn't all that different from usual—but he's also pretty sure that half of the things he's saying are really freaking dirty. Like…

"Fuck yeah…don't stop…just like that…oh shit, Derek, please! So hot…so fucking hot…I need you…right fucking now, just…just do it! Do it now! Fuck me already!"

Stiles is positive he screams the last part, though maybe it's all in his head.

Then again, maybe it's not, because Derek listens and presses to his entrance, but shit, he hasn't been prepared at all, and even though it's not like Derek's claws would be a welcome option, it stings and pinches for a minute, and shit, shit, shit, Stiles has to relax. Relax!

"Relax…" Derek rumbles into his ear, full-on wolf rumbly, and that helps, really helps, just to hear Derek and to feel him, wolfed out or not, clinging tightly to Stiles in support.

Stiles relaxes, and it still pinches through the first several thrusts, but it's not painful, it's not bad, because he is so ready for this, and Derek at least coated himself with spit, and once they have a rhythm and Stiles is stretched enough, it's just…oh.

That's what it's supposed to feel like.

Stiles releases a loud moan up toward the ceiling and the rest of the relaxing comes easy. And the more he relaxes and melds into Derek's movements, the better it feels, until he's positively buzzing. He isn't really aware of time passing, only of the slow build. Soon, he's so on edge, he has to touch himself, has to finish himself off, or he'll lose his mind.

The tips of his fingers barely graze his pulsing erection before his wrist is caught up in Derek's left hand and pressed into the table again. Stiles wants to protest—or wine, or beg—but then Derek's not-clawed right hand is there instead, taking hold of Stiles firmly and pumping along the shaft with expert pressure and rhythm.

"Yesss...justlikethat...ohmygodohmygodohmygod..."

Stiles is fairly certain that coherent speech is beyond him at the moment. He's on a cold table with his hips right at the edge, naked and legs dangling, with one hand pinned by claws that are scratching into his skin and another non-clawed hand jerking him off, while Derek Fucking Hale is totally taking his virginity.

A person's life really does flash before their eye when they die—even if it's only a little death. And really, the current situation is what flashes through Stiles' mind, in vivid Technicolor, like a doubled sensation of what he is feeling right that second, and then...that's just it, he's coming hard and hot in Derek's hand.

Derek growls, sniffing at the air and breathing in deep, like the smell of Stiles and sex is the best damn scent in the world. A few moments later, Derek is pulling away, spilling onto Stiles' stomach and purring—seriously purring—through his completion. When he's done, he collapses forward onto Stiles' thighs and Stiles can feel the claws slowly retracting.

Stiles is too exhausted to do anything but lie back on the table, eyes closed in blissful afterglow. He is going to be so sore tomorrow, and it was so worth it.

He feels Derek move off of him a few breathless minutes later, and doesn't really mind at first, since he's sweaty and sticky and the table is still biting into his back. He doesn't think to open his eyes or move until the cold from the table starts to creep into his limbs. Then, slowly, he sits up and blinks around the large...can it even be called a 'room'?

Derek isn't there.

Stiles thinks he can hear shuffling inside the subway car, and feels a little used and rejected that Derek just left him there. But nope, he is so not going to let anything get to him right now. He just had sex. Stiles Stilinski is no longer a virgin—the planets have finally aligned.

Carefully, Stiles slides off the table, landing on somewhat wobbly legs, and reaches for his discarded T-shirt to wipe himself off. He never really liked that T-shirt anyway. The hoodie, however, is sacred, and he can totally just wear that on the way home. Only his shorts are pretty uncomfortably damp, he notices, when he picks them up, and he isn't sure he really wants to wear those either. He might have to go commando.

That's when Stiles looks over at the subway car, still standing there naked with his precum-soaked shorts in his hand, and sees Derek—or rather an Adonis that happens to be named Derek—walking toward him in all his naked glory...carrying an armful of extra clothes.

Stiles gapes, right up until the moment when Derek throws a clean pair of shorts at his face. Stiles pulls the shorts down in time to catch the extra black T-shirt Derek also tosses to him. Derek has an entirely new outfit for himself that he begins to put on and, for a moment, Stiles can only stare, holding the shorts and T-shirt he's been offered tightly to his chest.

"You can stay naked for the rest of the night if you want, but then I'm making you walk home that way," Derek says, without any real traces of amusement, but no malice either, so Stiles decides to take the hint.

A grin overtakes Stiles' face as he slips on the underwear—Derek's underwear. "Dude, these have Batman on them."

Derek doesn't comment.

"You have Batman on your underwear."

Nothing.

"Is there a superhero fetish I should know abou—"

"Stiles."

"Right. Shutting up."

Stiles slips on his own jeans and then grabs Derek's T-shirt, long-sleeved and all black, and he has to grin wider at how much it smells like Derek—like musk, and the woods, and whatever cologne Derek wears that makes the whole package so perfect. Now Stiles smells like Derek too. He takes in a soothing breath and settles into the too-large shirt.

Nothing could ruin this night, Stiles thinks, but then he looks over at Derek, who is also dressed now and running his hands through his tussled hair to smooth it out, only there's this one spot that just won't behave, and Derek is positively growling over it, which Stiles would find adorable...if Derek didn't look sort of freaked out in general.

Shit. Stiles doesn't know what to say, because the awesome afterglow feeling he had been experiencing clearly isn't something Derek is sharing with him. So Stiles lets the awkwardness settle a little, but Derek isn't looking at him, won't look at him, and it's really starting to get to Stiles, so he moves toward Derek to touch his shoulder.

Derek flinches away. "This was a mistake."

Stiles stares at him.

"What?" Derek snarls. "Did you think we'd be sweet boyfriends and everything would be rainbows and sunshine after this?"

Wow, Stiles thinks, just wow.

But instead, he says, "I don't know, Derek. Maybe. Maybe it'll just be something awesome and hot that's over before it really starts, and that'll be fine. Or maybe it could be something else, something awesome and hot and lasting. Geez, do you always have to assume the worst?"

Derek opens his mouth to speak but Stiles is so not having it.

"And before you answer that the funny thing about life is you can't actually predict what's going to happen, no matter what age you are, or who you are, or what you've been through that should make you wiser and stronger to deal with this shit. FYI, wolf boy, I'm not you at sixteen. I'm me. And you're not…her."

Derek's eyes flash red, angry, but also stunned that Stiles knows and that he would dare say anything about it. Stiles is fully aware that he is playing with—well, obviously 'fire' is an overly apt word in this situation, but he doesn't care. Derek's trust issues are going to get them all killed.

So Stiles keeps talking.

"Okay, so you're occasionally homicidal, but not really. I'm not really scared of you, ya know. Because unlike her, you aren't a crazy sociopath who gets off on hurting innocent people. And whatever happened between you two, and no, I don't know all the details but I'm pretty sure I know the basics, what happened to your family is not your fault. It was 100% hers. You don't have to carry all that around with you. You want to think this is a mistake just because of my age, or because you think you'll ruin me like she ruined you, dude, newsflash, all of this has pretty much already ruined my life as I know it. And even though I'm trying really hard not to lose my shit over how it's affected my relationship with my dad, at least he's alive. And part of me…wouldn't change any of this. Except maybe for you to stop acting like I'm not worthy of the bite. Because being part of this pack…is the first time I've felt like I actually matter."

Stiles takes a breath because, even for him, that was a mouthful. Thankfully, it was enough of a mouthful that Derek doesn't look angry anymore so much as...deflated.

When he looks up at Stiles, though, he looks him in the eyes. "You don't need the bite to matter."

"Oh yeah? Well if you think I'm so special, why haven't you ever offered it to me, then?"

"Because you're special. You don't have to be a wolf to be part of the pack. I've already told you, you're pack."

"But why won't you offer it to me? I just don't get it. Why—?"

"Because you could die!" Derek yells, his voice echoing around them, with his fists clenched tight at his sides. "Because...what if it doesn't take? What if it kills you? After Lydia and Jackson…what if it makes you into something else? I thought I knew enough to be Alpha and make a stand against the hunters, but I don't know anything. I'm in way over my head, and I can't risk…something happening to you. Not you."

Stiles blinks, speechless for a moment. He isn't quite sure how to process all of that, so he just says, "You didn't seem so concerned when you bit the others."

"I wasn't really thinking beyond myself at the time," Derek admits, which makes Stiles' more coherent side think: about damn time. "But now…now we're a real pack. I was being an idiot before, fine, but now I have to take responsibility. And as part of my pack, I'm not willing to risk your life just because you feel left out, when you…"

"When I…what?" Stiles takes a step forward, lessening the space between them.

Derek looks away, at the floor, where some of their dirty clothes are still crumpled. "When you're…one of the few things keeping the pack together. They need you. If I bite you and something…goes wrong…it'll all fall apart. We need you."

Stiles hears the unspoken part of that fill the silence.

I need you.

He is honestly stunned. He hadn't come here tonight for this, but then...he didn't really have a plan of what he wanted to begin with.

Derek doesn't look up again, keeping his eyes on the floor, and then he slowly turns away, walking toward the sofa beside the subway car that Stiles and Scott brought in a few weeks ago.

Stiles lets him walk away, because he knows Derek isn't really walking away right now, or otherwise he would have gone into the subway car or left entirely. So Stiles waits a moment, retrieves their forgotten clothing from the floor and sets them all on the table to deal with later, and heads over to the sofa to join Derek. He sits down silently.

At first.

"So…I really am the pack mom? Coz Isaac keeps calling me that, and no one's correcting him, and they don't even really laugh about it, it's just…Stiles is Pack Mom—FACT."

Derek snorts. "Yeah…I guess you are."

"Then…as Alpha, you're pack dad, so…" Stiles looks sideways at Derek and waggles an eyebrow.

"Stiles…"

"I get it now, okay? It's not just about the bite. There is something that could break if this doesn't work out. This…weird, twisted dynamic we have. And it could break if the bite doesn't work right too. I get that. I thought you weren't offering it to me because you thought I wasn't good enough. But I get it. I don't even really want the bite, I just…I just want to matter. I want this all to mean something if it's going to cost me so much. I know it could all go up in smoke if something happens here…with us…and it ends horribly. But I'm not willing to spend my life that way anymore, opting out just because I think I'll lose in the end. And you shouldn't either. I started figuring that out with Lydia a while ago, and I couldn't be happier that I finally manned up."

Derek glances sideways at him.

"And don't even start, coz Lydia will always be something special for me, but she's not the end-all love of my life. She's in love with Jackson," Stiles says with a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand. "And I'm good now with at least being more than just peripheral existence to her. That's enough for me. But all this…you…it's different with you. And no I can't explain it more than that because it's not explainable, it's…nuclear physics. It's this great cosmic oxymoron, me being the moron, and you being way too sexy to even acknowledge my existence let alone think I'm…special. And bone-able," he adds with a smirk.

Derek rolls his eyes but doesn't try to counter that.

"So listen up." Stiles scoots closer to Derek on the sofa and bucks him with his shoulder. "I will be Pack Mom to your Alpha, and I'll do it as a human, if that's what you want, but I still want…more. I'm not asking for an engagement ring, I'm just saying…try a little, will ya? Take a chance. Trust someone other than yourself for once. For all we know, we could all be dead next week." Not Stiles' most optimistic speech, granted.

Derek doesn't say anything for awhile, and Stiles steadfastly resists speaking further, even though his natural inclination is to talk and talk until the other person responds, or at least tells him to shut up. But it does feel nice just sitting beside Derek, close enough that their arms and sides and legs are touching.

When Derek does finally speak, his voice is quiet. "So what do you want me to do?"

Stiles thinks on that for a moment. "Do you have anything you have to do tonight?"

"Not for a few hours, when the others check in."

"Wanna go see the new Batman movie?" Stiles grins.

Derek shoots him an incredulous look, probably because Derek has to know that—despite Stiles very much wanting to see the movie again, for the 4th time—his reasoning is totally influenced by Derek's underwear.

That he is currently wearing.

"Baby steps," Stiles says, "I promise. But you don't get to hide away like a scaredy wolf. Social interaction outside your lair is mandatory."

Derek scowls.

Stiles scoots even closer to him, snuggly close, and takes out his phone, checking movie times. "Next one starts in twenty minutes. If we go now, we might still get good seats."

Considering the progression of tonight's events so far, Stiles isn't all that shocked when Derek gives a heavy sigh and gets up from the sofa. "I'm driving."

Stiles bounces up next to him, thrilled at the prospect of going on what is so totally a date with Derek Hale, as Derek grabs his jacket. He bucks Derek in the shoulder again once they're heading out the door. "So…the beginning part, though, on the table…that's really how you offered the bite to Erika? Dude. She's going to totally hate me now, isn't she?"

Derek stops. "Actually…how did you know they were all going to be out tonight?"

"Coz Erica…texted me. She said you told her to keep me in the loop."

Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

"Shit, seriously? Erica set this up? I love that girl!"

With another exasperated roll of his eyes, probably at the thought of any member of his pack trying to set him up with someone, Derek continues up the stairs and out of the lair into the night.

Stiles follows after him. "But, seriously, getting someone to accept the bite like that? I'll have you know that seduction tactics..." Stiles whirls around on Derek as soon as the two of them are fully illuminated under the moonlight, then he crowds in on the taller man, slips his hands around Derek's waist, underneath the jacket and his newly donned T-shirt, and straight down the back of Derek's jeans, caressing skin. "...are so totally cheating."

THE END

Thanks for reading! I could definitely be persuaded to write more, and while I do accept requests, I might not always DO them. I'm certainly open to suggestions, though. I have a couple currently swimming in my head.

1. Recap of all Derek and Stiles encounters proves that Derek is actually barely able to hold himself together around Stiles because the presence of the boy, his mate, is such a turn on, but Derek doesn't want to deal with that with everything else going on, and Stiles being only 16, so he tries to ignore it. This usually results in him being rougher with Stiles than necessary as a defense mechanism. Or complaining about Stiles' paralyzed body falling on him because he doesn't want to get a boner and give himself away. But Derek's resolve can only go so far. What happens when Scott convinces Derek to train Stiles for his own protection and the two spend a sweat afternoon together? Or something like that.

2. If Derek was his 16 year old self, he and Stiles would totally be boning by now. So...what if something turned him into his 16 year old self and Stiles has to help him adjust until they can figure out how to turn him back? Derek would have no memories beyond 16, but he would still know and trust his pack instinctually, especially Stiles.

No promises, but I've been kicking those ideas around. :-)

See ya next ficcie!

~Crimson