Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

A/N: Oh God, what is this even…

WARNINGS: Spoilers from both seasons, including the latest episode from July 30th, 2x10 'Fury'.

Tell Me You Love Me

Stiles put his Jeep in park, shutting off the ignition before rubbing his eyes. He tried to blink away the spots that appeared afterwards, but only succeeded in giving himself a headache. He got out of his car and climbed up the steps to Scott's house, letting himself in with the key he had made. As a precaution he announced himself upon entering, but he was greeted only by his echoing voice. Good. He wanted solace, someplace to think without being bothered, and with his dad home all the time now that he was on leave, this was the only place he could think of. Mrs. McCall was out, working probably, and he knew Scott wouldn't be home, because things were so tense between him and his mom lately he rarely came home anymore, except to get some fresh clothes or some food. Stiles set about making himself comfortable, downing some chocolate milk straight out of the jug from the fridge before ravenously chewing down a string cheese, some leftover chicken, and a couple pieces of Mrs. McCall's leftover birthday cake. He then chugged half a soda before trudging upstairs, plopping down face-first on Scott's bed and closing his eyes, inviting sleep.

See, Stiles had had a long day.

Well, to be more precise he'd had a long past couple of months. It seemed the bite that had transformed Scott affected his life as much as his best friend's. He couldn't remember the last time he had a good night's sleep, or went out at night without fearing for his life. But that was all fine; it was Stiles' shit to deal with, and he'd persevere.

But then the bite started to spread, like a cancer. It affected everyone. People started getting involved, getting hurt. Lydia was catatonic and the new social outcast at school. Allison lost her mother. Jackson was this unstoppable murderer straight out of a myth. Scott was running rampant trying to save everyone, never looking out for himself. And people were dying. People were dying left and right, and he felt responsible. If only he had found the bestiary sooner, put the clues linking Jackson and Matt together faster, figured out the connection to the swim team right after Mr. Lahey died and not days later, there wouldn't be a sudden increase in funerals and his town wouldn't be called "the new murder capital of the United States" by The New York Times.

And his dad would still be sheriff.

It was all his fault. He caused his dad to lose his job. He killed his mother. He killed all those people. Stiles was the weak link, bending and buckling under pressure, letting all the bad things in and keeping all the good things from getting help. It was his curse. He was a burden to everyone: he hindered Scott, he weighed down his dad, he got in the way of everything. He wasn't special, he couldn't help them when they needed it. They didn't need a smart-mouthed, know it all, sarcastic weakling in the pack. They needed another werewolf. What they got instead was a boy; a scared, lonely, mouthy little boy.

He turned on his side and stared out the open window. It was night now. The sky was strewn with stars, but what really lit up the darkness was the moon. It was so big and close Stiles felt that he could reach out and grab it from where he lay. It was waning now after the full moon a couple nights ago, but it still bathed Scott's room in light. Stiles stared out to it, tracing the craters and white and dark areas with his fingertips, wondering how great it would be if he were up on the moon right now, away from all these earthly problems. On the moon there were no werewolves or hunters, no kanimas or masters, nothing. There would just be him. And maybe then there'd be peace, too.

On second thought, Stiles didn't want to be on the moon. Escape wasn't the answer. Control was. 'I wish I was the moon,' Stiles thought as he closed one eye and squeezed the moon between his thumb and index finger. 'Maybe then I could help Derek and Scott.'

He sighed, dropping his arm down and scratching his stomach. He turned to the closet and said, "I know you're there, Derek." He switched on the lamp by Scott's bed, illuminating Derek in the bright yellow light. Derek was sitting on the desk chair, staring intently at Stiles.

"I thought I heard your heartbeat speed up when I snuck in, but when it slowed down I figured you were just having the beginnings of a wet dream," Derek said.

"Are you kidding?" Stiles said incredulously. "I know better than anyone what it sounds like when someone climbs through that window. The sill is creaky when you step on it, by the way, so if you want to work on your super-secret-sneaking-up skills next time, try to avoid it. Plus, you smell like a wet dog."

Derek turned his head to the side and curiously sniffed his armpit. "I haven't had a chance to go home and clean myself up yet," he explained.

"What are you doing here, Derek?" Stiles asked tiredly. "Scott's not here, so whatever werewolf-Yoda thing you were going to teach him is going to have to wait."

"Actually - ," Derek had come to Scott's house in search of the boy. He wanted answers to what he'd overheard last night at the police station. Was Scott really working with Gerard and the hunters, feeding them information about Derek and his pack? After all he'd done for the boy: teaching him how to control his aggression and hone his instincts, warning him of the dangers the hunters possessed after they cut that Omega in half, he still sided with them. Why? Derek wanted to know why. " - I came here to see you."

"Me?" Stiles asked. "Why me?"

"I wanted to see if you were alright," Derek said, running his nails up the arms of the chair to sate his boredom. "After last night at the police station - ."

"Forget about last night," Stiles said, silencing Derek. "I don't even want to think about it. Let's just add it to the list of things I'm repressing until I have enough money to pay a therapist to tell me these past few months have all been in my head and I'm really in Inception."

"Like I was saying," Derek said, ignoring Stiles, "last night wasn't easy for any of us. I know how hard it must have been for you."

"No," Stiles said. "You don't. It sucks. Feeling helpless like that, having a gun pointing at you, knowing there's nothing you can do to save yourself," Stiles said, remembering how helpless he felt as Matt aimed at him and then his dad, "or anyone else. It sucks."

"I'm trying to be compassionate here, so shut up and don't interrupt me again," Derek said. Stiles pursed his lips as Derek continued. "I know how helpless you felt - ."

" – No, you don't!" Stiles cried. Derek's eyes flashed red and Stiles quickly shut his mouth. "I mean, you were speaking, so, yeah…" he whispered quietly.

"I know how helpless you felt, and it's not your fault. You can't help it that you're mortal," Derek scoffed. "Don't feel bad that you passed up on the bite when Peter offered it to you; you could have been faster, stronger, better. You could have been special."

Stiles stared open-mouthed at Derek. "That's you being compassionate? That's supposed to make me feel better?" Stiles asked bitterly. Derek shrugged, picking at his teeth with his elongated wolf nails. Stiles rolled his eyes before throwing himself back on Scott's bed. Derek got up from the chair and walked over to the bed, making himself comfortable next to Stiles.

"Listen," Derek said softly; well, as softly as his voice would allow, "you could have been special, but you're not. You're Stiles, and that's okay, I guess. It doesn't make you weak or any less important than any other member of the pack."

"You consider me a part of your pack?" Stiles asked wondrously.

"No," Derek said straightforward. Stiles' face dropped in disappointment. "I consider you on your way to becoming a member of my pack. Besides, you and Scott are a package deal. I need him to make my pack stronger, but I actually want you around."

"'You want me?' What's going on?" Stiles asked, sitting up so he could look into Derek's face. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Pity, mostly," Derek said, closing his eyes and resting his head back on Scott's headboard. Stiles looked upset for all of a millisecond before he caught sight of Derek. He looked so peaceful sleeping, which threw Stiles for a loop, since he was so used to seeing the guy all scary and wolfing out. His face was relaxed and he was breathing softly, his lips parted slightly and his eyelids fluttering. Stiles felt his hand rising of its own accord, moving to touch Derek's face. He blamed his ADHD for making him so curious, oftentimes to his own detriment.

"Don't touch me," Derek said, his hand flashing up and grabbing Stiles' own. "And stop staring at me," he said, still gripping Stiles' hand.

"First of all, ow," Stiles said, wrenching his hand out of Derek's grip and flexing it. "Geez, I just wanted to see if you'd wolf out while asleep."

"Didn't you ever hear that you shouldn't wake a sleeping giant?" Derek asked. Stiles shrugged, turning back to the moon, which seemed to grow closer as the night grew on. Derek was staring at the moon as well, turning occasionally to look at Stiles' expression bathed in the moonlight. He didn't know why, but he felt immensely protective of the boy. It was a multitude of things, really; although he'd just attested to the contrary, Stiles was helpless, though not weak. In fact he was stronger than he'd previously given him credit for. Still, he had no powers like Scott, or Jackson, or whatever the hell Lydia was; and at the very least Allison was competent with a bow and arrow, and he knew she would only get deadlier under Gerard and Chris. But Stiles…had nothing. He was crazy smart, for sure, and when his dad was sheriff he got lots of valuable information. But that was it. This little useless bundle of energy had no way of protecting himself yet he constantly threw himself in harm's way to protect his friends and save innocent lives. How could Derek not want to keep him safe at all times?

"Have you ever heard the legend of the first werewolf?" Derek asked, breaking the silence. Stiles looked up to Derek, shaking his head no. Derek stared back out the window, looking at the moon as he said, "In Norse mythology Máni was the moon personified. He traveled across the sky, following his sister, Sól, the sun. The monstrous wolf god, Fenrir, grew jealous of their movement, as he had been chained for years by the other gods, so he fathered two children by himself: the wolves Sköll and Hati. Sköll chased the sun, while Hati chased the moon, each trying to devour the shining gods. One day Hati fell in love with a mortal woman, but he couldn't be with her because he was always chasing the moon, and the woman lived in the day, relishing the sun. So Hati waited until she was asleep, ravishing her against her will. The woman was shunned by her village, cast out amongst the wilderness. Ashamed, she took her own life, but not before Hati ripped his unborn son out of her womb and left it in the village to be raised by the unwitting villagers who shamed his beloved. The child grew up an outcast, aware of his heritage, knowing that his mother had been shunned by the people who raised him. He enacted his revenge every full moon, turning into a wolf/human hybrid and killing the villagers at random. After he killed the last villager, he moved on, fathering many children, spawning more werewolves to enact his revenge on the world."

Stiles stared open-mouthed at Derek. "That's the legend of the first werewolf? You guys really want to be associated with a rapist and a murderer? Why would you tell me that?!"

"It shows how fierce we are, how utterly ruthless we can be when provoked," Derek said. "But it also shows that we protect those we care about."

"All I got from that story is that werewolves are bad and will rape you whenever they want," Stiles said, squinting at Derek before moving a pillow to cover his ass.

"I'm not going to rape you, Stiles," Derek said, pulling the pillow away and throwing it across the room. "It's a myth. I thought you'd enjoy it."

"You're right, it was a heartwarming tale of love and devotion," Stiles said. "Now I can go to sleep tonight with images of killer wolves and villagers covered in blood!"

"Why are you so dense?" Derek asked. "I'm trying to tell you that I care about you, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

"By telling me a horror story probably used by mothers in the Dark Ages to warn their children about big bad wolves?" Stiles asked. "Wait a minute. You care about me?"

"Don't let it go to your head," Derek said disinterestedly. "I just don't want to see a sixteen year old kid die because he was stupid enough to be out with werewolves when he should have been home playing some online fantasy role playing game."

Stiles twiddled his thumbs, daring to steal glances at Derek everyone now and again. Soon enough his curiosity got the better of him and he said, "You know, I've saved your life a lot more times than you saved mine."

"Name one," Derek dared him.

"I kept you from drowning when the kanima attacked," Stiles said proudly. "Didn't see you doing the doggy-paddle then."

"I was paralyzed!" Derek cried angrily.

"Still counts," Stiles shrugged. He saw Derek was seething, his pride probably hurt. Stiles knocked his foot against Derek's, causing the older boy to glare at him. "Why are you always such a sour wolf? Don't you ever have any fun?"

"Fun leads to uncontrollable glee, which leads to fangs and claws and pointed ears," Derek said gruffly. "I have to be in control of my emotions at all times."

"Well that sucks," Stiles said, scratching at his nose. "Hold on a sec; I know who you are now! You're Angel!" Derek simply stared back at him, which only caused Stiles to get more hyper as he tried to explain. "Angel!" he said, waving his arms about. "Buffy Summers' one true love."

"Are you having a stroke?" Derek asked.

"No," Stiles sighed. "Angel was a vampire on the culturally significant and totally awesome series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He was cursed with a soul and had to keep his emotions in check because at the first instance of happiness it would be ripped away and he'd be a heartless killer again," he said breathlessly. "You're Angel!"

"I am no angel," Derek said, moving down on the bed and making himself comfortable next to Stiles.

"Yes, you are!" Stiles said excitedly. "It all makes sense now. You're Angel, and Scott has to be Buffy, what with the struggling with the nature of their destiny and all. Allison is sort of like Giles, because she has access to all this new supernatural info. Lydia is Willow, because she is just dark," Stiles said, shivering as he remembered the spiked punch and all its ill effects at her birthday party. "Jackson is like Spike, because he's a dick. And that makes me…oh crap, I'm Xander."

"What the hell's a Xander?" Derek asked, figuring he might as well humor the boy.

"The useless one of the group," Stiles sighed. "He never got any powers, acted up when he wasn't included, always had a sarcastic comment for everything, constantly in trouble with the supernatural. That's me. Shit."

"Yeah, pretty much," Derek agreed. For some reason this really made Stiles upset, so Derek cautiously patted him on the shoulder. As the saying goes, Derek gave him an inch, so Stiles took a mile. He lunged into Derek's chest, bawling his eyes out and clutching wildly at his shirt. "What just happened?" Derek asked, his hands up as if he were being robbed.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said, wiping his eyes on Derek's shirt. "Momentary freak out. Just, after everything that happened…my dad losing his job, being held at gunpoint, being drugged up and tripping out at Lydia's birthday party, and now realizing that I'm the ball and chain of the group just…it got to me."

"Don't let it happen again," Derek said warningly. Stiles stayed firmly planted on Derek's chest, ignoring the growling coming out of his mouth. "You're still on me," Derek reminded him.

"I know," Stiles said softly, his eyes red and his voice still thick with emotion. "You're just so warm and cuddly." He snuggled closer to Derek, who laid still, his body stiff as a board as he tried to wish Stiles off of him. "Did you mean it when you said you care about me?"

"Stiles, I didn't mean it like - ," Derek began, but he was cut off as Stiles took him by surprise and pressed his lips to his. It was a simple kiss, but when Stiles began to pull away Derek wanted more. He held Stiles firmly by the back of his head, keeping him in place as he furiously moved his lips against Stiles', nibbling and sucking on them, the pounding of Stiles' heart driving him insane.

"What are we doing?" Stiles asked when he came up for air. "I shouldn't have…I didn't mean to…"

"Yes you did," Derek said, holding Stiles tighter. "So shut up and enjoy it." He rolled them both over so he was on top, Stiles moaning as Derek attacked his neck, pulling on the delicate skin there with his teeth. Stiles was writhing underneath him, helpless to stop the ministrations of the older boy ravishing him from above. Before Stiles knew it Derek was unbuckling his belt and tugging at his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear, leaving Stiles bare from the waist down. Stiles' head was spinning with the speed at which they were moving, but he wasn't about to stop Derek now.

Derek pumped Stiles' prick, looking up into his eyes as it reached its full hardness. "I knew you were a virgin," Derek said with a chuckle, looking up into Stiles' eyes.

"What? No I'm not!" Stiles said incredulously. "I've had sex a bunch of times. I'm good at it."

"Okay," Derek said. "So if I lick you here," he said, sticking his tongue out and licking up Stiles' shaft and going straight to his cockhead, "you won't want to cum."

"No," Stiles said squeakily, biting his lips and shutting his eyes as he tried to stave off his orgasm.

"Stiles, it's alright," Derek said. "I know you're a virgin. I can smell it on you."

"Great, so I even smell like a virgin," Stiles said exasperatedly. "I'm going to die alone."

"Shut up," Derek said, picking up Stiles' leg and running his nose up Stiles' thigh, inhaling his scent as he drew closer and closer to his crotch. "Don't talk like that. You're not going to die."

"You really meant it, didn't you?" Stiles asked, grabbing Derek by the hair so he could stop sniffing him and pay attention. "You care about me."

"Like I said, don't let it go to your head," Derek said with the smallest hint of a smile. He then dove back between Stiles' legs, rutting against Scott's bed while he licked at Stiles' dick. Stiles was moaning uncontrollably, pulling at the pillow and trying not to scream. Just as Derek bit Stiles' thigh and was about to swallow his cock whole the door to Scott's room swung open, Scott's eyes bugging out before he let out a dangerous growl.

"What are you doing to him?" Scott cried. Stiles was fumbling with a pillow, trying to cover himself up, while Derek sighed and tried to explain. He never got the chance because Scott roared at him, his claws extended and his teeth bared in fury. "Stay away from my friend!" Scott said, lunging at Derek, sending them both flying across the room.

"No, Scott," Stiles said, trying his best to untangle his underwear from inside his pants so he could clothe himself again. "Scott!" he yelled again before he fell to the floor, his feet tangled up in the blankets. "Seriously?" he cried, pulling the blankets free and hopping around on one foot as he tried to put his underwear on.

"You don't touch him, you hear me?" Scott said, spittle flying from his mouth as he roared at Derek. He took a swipe at Derek with his heavy handed claw, barely missing his throat. Derek howled back, dodging Scott's second lunge and swinging the boy around, using Scott's own weight against him. He pinned Scott against the wall, pressing his arm against Scott's neck, crushing his throat. Scott was clawing at Derek's arm, his eyes wide and scared as he found it hard to breathe. He shifted back into a human, his face turning red as Derek increased the pressure on his throat.

"Derek! Let him go!" Stiles cried, jumping on Derek's back in his underwear, trying to loosen Derek's hold on Scott. Derek roared, pressing his arm harder on Scott's neck, ignoring Stiles' request. "Please?" Stiles whispered into his ear. Derek looked over his shoulder at Stiles' expression of genuine concern. With a low snarl he let Scott go. Scott fell to the floor, glaring up at Derek who still had Stiles wrapped around his back. He rubbed his tender neck, getting to his feet and cautiously walking around Derek.

"What - ," Scott began, his voice hoarse. Clearing his throat he continued, "Stiles, what are you doing? Derek was attacking you and you just let him."

Stiles, still hitching a piggy-back ride on Derek, looked confused. It must have shown on Derek's face as well, because Scott stared at both of them, waiting for an answer. "Scott…Derek and I, we were - ."

"I was about to give Stiles his first blowjob and you walked in and ruined it," Derek said in his usual direct way. Scott coughed, his throat closing on him as he was about to voice his disbelief.

"Seriously, dude?" Stiles asked, his hands still wrapped around Derek's neck like he was a kid at Disneyland that got too tired to walk. "You couldn't phrase it any other way?"

"I could have made it dirtier," Derek said. He sat back on the bed, letting Stiles unwrap himself from his back.

"You – what?" Scott choked out. "You were…you guys…both of you…" He looked back and forth between the two of them, not sure what to think. "You were going to blow him? On my bed? ON MY BED!"

"That's the part you're focusing on?" Stiles asked.

"It just happened," Derek said unapologetically. "Neither of us were planning it, so stop freaking out."

"How can I not freak out?" Scott cried. "My b – best friend! And…sorry, Derek, I don't really know what kind of relationship we have yet." Derek shrugged, unaffected. "I can't believe it!"

"Let's just write it off as a spur of the moment kind of thing, okay?" Stiles begged. "We never meant for this to happen."

"Yeah, right," Scott said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stiles said.

"It means this was going to happen," Scott scoffed. "Of course this was going to happen, it was inevitable, it was fate, it was destined! But, I still can't believe it happened…" he sighed, resting at the edge of his desk.

"What are you talking about?" Derek asked, his interest in the conversation suddenly perking up again.

"You guys have had this weird chemistry since the beginning," Scott said. "Ever since you first met I knew you guys were going to hook up. And it's not just me; Jackson, Lydia, Allison, we all knew it. But we were all just talking out of our asses, until Danny said he thought there was some weird sexual tension between you and your cousin Miguel," Scott chuckled. "That cemented it for everyone. If Danny saw this gay tension between the two of you, then it was real. Still, even though I saw it coming, I can't believe it's actually here."

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Stiles said, throwing a pillow in the air in his anger. "First Matt yesterday when I accidentally fell on top of Derek, now you, and everybody else? Why does everyone think we'd make a good couple?" He scratched angrily at his close-shorn head before turning to Derek and saying, 'Derek, I do not have feelings for you. And I'm sure you don't have feelings for me. What happened here was…I was feeling bad, after last night, and Derek was here, and one thing led to another… But it didn't mean anything, so can people please stop saying there's something between us?" Stiles asked, exasperated. "I mean, right? I'm sure Derek feels the same way."

"No, I don't," Derek said casually, flicking at something under his nails.

"See, Der – wait, what?!" Stiles cried.

"I have feelings for you," Derek said simply. "I don't know what they are, or how deep they run, but I know they're there." Stiles looked helplessly to Scott, wondering how to process this information. Scott looked just as stunned as Stiles, throwing his palms up and shrugging.

"I don't...I've never really thought about - you like that - before," Stiles said. Secretly he'd always hoped for someone to say they cared for him, but that someone was usually Lydia. Derek wasn't even on his radar.

"I didn't ask if you had feelings for me," Derek said. "Just know that I care about you."

"Why?" Stiles asked.

"I don't know," Derek said. "You're like a helpless puppy. I want to take care of you, make sure you don't get hurt, keep you safe from harm."

"I am not a puppy," Stiles pouted.

"Whatever," Derek said. He leaned back on Scott's bed, flipping through a porn magazine he found under one of the pillows. Scott and Stiles had a hushed conversation about how to deal with this sudden revelation when suddenly Derek was by Stiles' side again. "You know I can hear you two, right?"

"Look, Derek," Stiles began, wringing his hands as he said, "I don't feel that way about - ." This time Derek took the lead and kissed Stiles, at first chaste and unassumingly, and then passionately and ferociously.

"Whoa," Scott said, rising from the desk and slowly backing away. "I'm just going to leave you two alone. Besides, I gotta go see Allison. Thanks to all of this I owe her twenty bucks…if she doesn't kill me first," he said, hoping whatever caused her to become so murderous last night was simply a hormonal imbalance. "And whatever you guys do, take it outside. Don't do it on my bed." With that Scott left the two of them alone, still making out on his bed.

"This is weird," Stiles said as he broke away from Derek. "I mean, doesn't it feel weird that you're making out with me, and I told you I don't really feel anything for you?"

"No," Derek said, chewing indiscriminately on Stiles' earlobe and neck. "I can wait."

"So you'll just wait until I develop feelings for you?" Stiles asked.

"Mmhmm," Derek said, his hand tugging down Stiles' underwear.

"Hey, hey!" Stiles said, stopping Derek. "Scott said nothing in his bed."

"What's he going to do? I'm the Alpha," Derek said as he ripped Stiles' boxers to shreds, throwing their tattered remains across the room. "If he wants, he can take it up with me."

"Ugh," Stiles moaned as Derek forewent foreplay and dove straight on Stiles' dick. He began lapping at it hungrily, his lips puckered as he came up from the tip, only to fall back on it again. "If you're trying to make me fall in love with you through sex, it might be working."

"Might be?" Derek asked, eyebrow arched. "By the time I'm done here you're going to be screaming 'I love you'." Derek went back to work on Stiles' erection, Stiles melting into a puddle on Scott's bed. He knew he probably would be screaming that he loved Derek by the end of this, but he wasn't about to admit it.

A/N: What the hell did you just read? What the hell did I just write? It was so directionless. Whatever. I wanted to write it, so here it is. Hope you liked it (or at the very least read until halfway through and then skipped to the end and read this part). Thanks for reading. Oh, and PMS: I came up with that legend for the first werewolf all by myself, which is why it is so lame. The Norse gods and goddesses are real, though, but the story isn't. Okay, bye.