Leave Me In Ruins

He's not yours

When Derek finally arrived back home, it was nearly three in the morning. Stiles' Jeep was still in the parking lot so he expected Stiles to be nose deep in some lore book or buried in a sea of computer tabs he had no chance of navigating out of.

What he found instead was Stiles face down on his keyboard, the letter J was being repeatedly entered into a word document as soft snores escaped his parted lips.

Derek let out a sigh as he smiled down at him. He hated to wake him but he didn't look even the least bit comfortable. He reached out, tracing a constellation of moles across Stiles' cheek with his thumb.

Stiles bolted up. "I didn't do it, it was like that." He blurted as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.

Derek only chuckled.

"Hey, what are you..." Stiles looked around in confusion.

Derek waited for him to orient himself.

"Oh." Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Go to bed, I'll be in soon." Derek urged.

"Wait, what happened?"

"Nothing much. We're waiting to hear if they ID the body and do an autopsy to see what killed her."

Stiles sighed which turned into a yawn.

"Go to bed."

Stiles rubbed his tired eyes and nodded before starting towards the spare room.

"The spare bed isn't made." Derek lied, causing Stiles to pause. "Just sleep in mine."

Derek half expected an argument or objection but Stiles simply changed his course and headed to Derek's room.

When the door clicked shut behind Stiles, Derek let out a sigh. He was pathetic. Lying just so he could have Stiles next to him. He'd have to strip the spare bed if he didn't want Stiles to catch on. Derek was thankful that he was too tired to realize he'd have no reason to strip the bed.

Derek pushed open the door of the spare room to the perfectly made bed. With one yank he pulled the comforter and the top sheet off. With another yank, he pulled the bottom sheet up. He haphazardly tossed them into the laundry basket next to the washer before going back to the computer.

He backspaced the four pages of J's before he found the reason for the word document being open. Information from different sites that Stiles had found was pasted onto the page.

Derek scanned to see lore on banshee predictions. A list of poisons. And a collection of mythical creatures that are known enemies to werewolves. He saved the document and minimized the thirty tabs Stiles had left open in the background.

Derek grabbed Stiles' phone, which he'd left behind. It lit up under his touch revealing the last thing he'd left open.

Derek's stomach dropped as he spotted the conversation thread between Stiles and Adrian. He knew he shouldn't look but the jealous side of him was desperate to know if Adrian was truly a threat.

He glanced at the last couple of texts. He wouldn't scroll. He'd just see what was said last.

His heart sank as he saw the last text from Adrian.

"I'm looking forward to it."

The winky face at the end made Derek's jaw clench. He read the next two texts before.

Stiles was making plans to see Adrian.

Derek blacked out the screen before he was tempted to read anymore. He refused to be that guy. But wasn't he already?

He let out a low growl. He hated what Stiles did to him. He hated how possessive he felt.

"He's not yours," Derek growled to himself. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "He's not yours," He repeated. "He's not yours."

He clicked off the light as he made his way to his bedroom. "He's not yours." He continued to chant to himself until he reached the doorway. He pushed it open to see Stiles already asleep on Derek's bed, most of his clothes discarded on the floor.

He let out a defeated sigh. "He's not yours."

-

Derek was up early. He'd slept only a few hours as half the night was spent trying to decide what to do about his feelings for Stiles. In the end, he'd come up with nothing but a headache.

He took a long sip from his freshly made coffee as Stiles came into the kitchen. He was still half asleep, his hair standing in disarray on his head and one of Derek's shirts sat loosely on his shoulders.

Derek watched Stiles with admiring eyes. He loved when Stiles wore his clothes but this...half asleep with nothing but his t-shirt and underwear, it made Derek's chest ache. He wanted this with Stiles all the time.

"Morning," Stiles mumbled.

Derek pushed a steaming mug toward Stiles. "The pack will be here soon."

Stiles hummed in delight as he took the mug into his hands. He pressed it to his lips and took a long swig only to immediately gag.

Derek's brows rose in question. Had he made it wrong?

"This is not coffee," Stiles spluttered, a look of utter betrayal on his face.

Derek laughed. "Like I said the pack will be here soon."

Stiles rolled his eyes as he lifted the mug to his lips again. "The sacrifices I make for you," he said before tipping back the mug quickly.

Derek's fond smile fell. He never wanted Stiles to sacrifice anything for Derek.

"Can I have my coffee now?" Stiles asked, holding his empty mug out to Derek.

Derek pushed another mug across the counter before taking the empty one.

Stiles sniffed at the new mug with narrowed eyes.

Derek huffed a laugh as he rolled his eyes.

"Hmmm," Stiles hummed as the warm liquid slid down his throat.

Derek's eyes trailed down Stiles. The long sleeves of his shirt covered Stiles' hands as he gripped the mug in both. God, he was a sight. He pulled his eyes away as Stiles lowered the mug.

He cleared his throat. "As much as I love the current state of undress, like I said, the pack will be here soon."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." Stiles took another sip before setting his mug down and leaving to change.

Derek gripped the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turned white. He clenched his eyes shut and whispered, "he's not yours."

*AN*
Hope you like it!