She thinks at first it was just a means to an end, a way to get information, maybe just a safe place to sleep where, for just a few hours, nobody was trying to shoot, torture, or maim him for once. Even back then when Stiles was about 94% sure that he hated her, she could look into Derek's eyes and see it, no matter how much he might try to hide: fear. She'd never say that to him, of course, but it was always there. Looking back, she wonders how much of it was fear of dying, or fear of her.
And Derek, he'd growl a little, crowd her up against the wall and flash those eyes of his and she'd give him whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, whatever he asked for because who the hell wouldn't, what with the teeth and the claws and the whole growl-y package. Then somehow, without either of them realizing it, pumping her for information became begrudging concern, because after all, somebody had to look after the lone, pitiful human of the pack, protect her from what went bump in the night. And then the excuses just seemed to fall flat after a while. Sleeping on the floor of her bedroom and lurking in dark corners somehow became sleeping in her bed, curled around her back with his mouth at her neck and his ridiculously long legs tangled up with hers. Since her mom died, Stiles had always struggled with insomnia and bad dreams, but with Derek next to her, it was better, It was easier. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't a cure, but instead of waking up with a dry mouth and a sore throat from screaming every night, more often than not, she woke with the scent of sandalwood and leather swirling in her nose and beard burn stinging her shoulder. She knows at the time, Derek would have probably let her actually cut off his arm for real before he ever admitted to nuzzling her, but that's so totally what happened.
Stiles can't quite remember the exact moment though, that Derek's intrusive nighttime visits through her window went from completely unwanted (and not to mention, slightly terrifying), to something she...craved. Instead it seemed to creep up on her, slow and gradual, like she imagines it would for a drug addict just starting to get hooked. She just didn't realize how much of an addict she really was until she had to start waiting for the fix. She used to lie there in her bed night after night with her heart racing, fingers twitching nervously, and stare up at her dark ceiling just willing her ears to hear the scrape of her window being forced open. She used to lock it, but after a while, she just gave up and accepted the fact that her room had somehow become a freakin' halfway house for wayward werewolves. And there was no real point now, considering Derek would absolutely slaughter anyone (or anything) unwelcome and stupid enough to try to get in. Hell, she had a heck of a time convincing Derek not to claw her best friend on a daily basis. Stiles might be the Derek whisperer, but she isn't a miracle worker.
So, it's never her intention to outright torture Derek. It's just strange, and a little bit exhilarating, to have such an effect on someone like him. Because Stiles knows she's a little fucked up, knows she's definitely an anxious control freak, but then she met Derek. Honestly for someone who turns into a literal wild animal on a regular basis, the dude's wound tighter than a two dollar watch. So forgive her for pushing him. Just a little.
"This isn't funny, Stiles," Derek says. His eyebrow's doing that twitchy thing he does when he's annoyed with her, and the way he's got his arms crossed all disapprovingly just screams thoroughly unamused. "I just spent the last two hours at the station with your dad. Did you know he has a closet full of weapons that can kill me? Because I do, Stiles. Wanna know how I know? Because he showed me all of them." Somehow Derek always manages to make her name sound like a threat. Or a swear word. Sometimes both.
Huh, she thinks irritably, though shockingly not at Derek. Argent must have really outdone himself, which is so going to be another argument entirely because yeah, her dad might know all about the whole werewolf thing now, but that doesn't mean she wants him going in guns blazing every time some kind of supernatural crisis comes up. "I just told you to talk," Stiles says pointedly. "I didn't tell you to let him take you to a secondary location."
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I Will Run You Like A Thread (Fem!Stiles x Derek)
FanfictionIt had crept up on him, the wanting, mostly since it had been years since he'd felt anything close. Until suddenly it hit him like a fucking car crash, like a switch flipped inside him, because he never thought he could want something so badly that...
