The Hell You Came From [Derek/FemStiles]

How You See Me

“Like I said before–at first, it was just the little things that I noticed, like her snappy attitude to whoever she thought wasn’t worth her time, or how bossy and domineering she was, or even just the way she carried herself–like she thought she was better than everyone else.” Derek sighs, shaking his head at his stupidity.

He’s almost finished with the shadings of her hair as he goes on, “And at first, she was obviously real nice to me. It’s when I won my first fight in the ring, that’s when she started to change; starting revealing her true colours.”

Stiles steels herself with a silent breath as she prepares for this next part of the story. She doesn’t interrupt again.

At least, not while he looks calm enough to tell her what he actually tells her...

“I, uh... I mean, because of Paige, my eyes were already blue; I’d already killed before, but the issue was obviously me killing for money...even if the other guy was going to kill me if I didn’t kill him, it’s still...”

Derek’s gaze snaps up to Stiles when he feels her gently poking his knee with her toe. His heart flips and his stomach flutters at the softly reassuring smile she gives him. He can only smile shyly back as he dips his head again.

He focuses on the last part of the drawing; her beautiful gazelle neck.

“Anyway, I, uh...” Derek takes a breath to calm himself (from the heat of Stiles’ eyes on him, rather than what he’s revealing to her.) “First time I killed in the ring, she managed to convince me that it was OK, because the other guy knew what he was getting into. And then, of course, it happened again...and again...and again. And each time it happened, I would try to back out, and she would only convince me to stay somehow.”

Derek lets out a shaky breath, because now, he actually is trying not to remember as he tells Stiles, “And when I finally got forceful, so did she... She, um... First time I tried to escape was the first time she shot me up with mistletoe, forcing me to shift fully before throwing me in a cage.”

Derek’s eyes dart back up to Stiles at the sound of her soft gasp. He dips his head again when he sees the look of horror in her eyes.

He shrugs casually, continues a little quicker, just to have this over with...

“In the first couple of weeks, I escaped so many times, she forced fed me enough mistletoe to make me vomit for three days straight.” He clears his throat, glances awkwardly up at Stiles as he says, “I, um, I don’t wanna go into too much detail about–“

“You don’t have to.” Stiles only interrupts, this time, because it looks like he’s struggling to say just those words to her. “Just...” Stiles shrugs, calmly tells him, “Just tell me whatever you need to.” She feels stupid for saying that, because she’s the one who hounded him about why he fricking lied to her.

(God, she really regrets it now.)

Stiles relaxes, however, because Derek’s smiling lightly and nodding and looking so gratefully at her.

Stiles sends him an encouraging smile.

“It was the fourth week that I managed to escape and found her plans for my family instead. In that moment, I stayed only to try to kill her, but she set me up. She came back, acting like it was nothing; acting all innocent. And when I got so angry, she finally burst out laughing and told me just what she had planned for them.”

This time, Derek takes a breath to calm his anger. He even has to let the pencil drop to the sketchpad for a few seconds just in case he snaps it in half.

Again, Stiles gently digs her toe into his knee, and whether it’s to comfort him or distract him, he doesn’t know, but it works like a charm, because now he’s smiling like a complete goof at her.

Stiles fights back a stupid giggle (at a sensitive time like this), grinning softly instead.

Derek blows out a breath, eyes now returning to his drawing, hand returning to pencil.

(He briefly wonders just how she so easily makes his mood lighten like that.)

Stiles can’t help but let her gaze drift over him, taking in every fine little detail about him; using his distractions to do so.

Derek finishes the few little beauty marks lined down the left side of her neck before moving onto the last part of shading.

He calmly goes on, “And then, I only stayed because she threatened to kill them all. She said that she could either have them, or me. So, I stayed, but this time, I was planning to kill her, the first chance I got.”

Finally, Stiles stops him altogether, because now that she’s finally all caught up to speed, she can’t bare making him relive another second of it.

“And on week eight, you did just that before my stupid ass ran you over.”

Stiles grins (almost giddily) when he looks back up at her just to blind her with that adorable smile again. She can tell by the amused and rather grateful look that flits over his face, he knows exactly what she’s doing.

Derek nods, smirking lightly. “I... Yeah. Pretty much.” He chuckles quietly.

Stiles arches a brow when she sees him grinning down at his sketchpad. She watches as he finally tosses the pencil onto the bed beside him. Her heart begins to race as his eyes flicker between her and the drawing.

“Hmm. Maybe I should start again.” Derek uses his peripherals to sneakily watch her, his eyes directed down at the drawing.

He laughs when she scoffs loudly and pushes herself across the bed towards him.

Stiles pouts when he picks up the sketchpad and holds it to his chest.

“You’re not gonna show me?”

Derek chances a cheeky grin, even dares to ask, “Can I maybe get a little kiss first?”

Stiles arches a brow, playfully scolds him with, “Oh, so you are creepy.”

Derek should feel offended, only, he’s laughing and rolling his eyes before shooting her a playful glare and telling her, “I’m gonna show you, either way.”

Stiles breaks out into a tiny grin, her cheeks slightly flushing as she mumbles, “Less creepy...”

Derek grins happily; dopily as she leans over. He tries to turn his head for her to kiss his cheek and chuckles when she scoffs again, gently grabs his cheeks and presses her lips to his. Derek grins back against her lips as he grabs her hands, still kissing her back without pulling away once, while he places the sketchpad in her hands and presses it to her chest.

Stiles clutches the sketchpad as he wraps his arms around her waist and hugs her tightly. She chuckles breathlessly when he pulls away after a minute or two (she already lost count.)

Derek loosens his arms around her, presses his forehead to hers and mumbles, “Is it good?”

“Yeah...” Stiles whispers, eyes fluttering before slowly widening in realisation, “I–wait...what??”

A small smirk tugs at Derek’s lips. “The drawing.”

“Oh.” Stiles mumbles back, cheeks instantly ablaze.

He did that on purpose.

She narrows her eyes when his smirk widens, even while she’s trying to fight her own stupid amused smirk.

Stiles moves herself to sit beside him then, takes a silent breath before turning the sketchpad over.

Her eyes widen, heart racing, skin prickling, hairs standing to attention, thighs, for some reason, clenching.

She’s not even aroused.

If anything, she’s never felt more emotionally touched than she does now...

Derek’s own eyes are wide and waiting, almost more fearful than nervous.

But when Stiles looks up at him and smiles so softly, her eyes shining with tears and making them look like they’re glowing, he simply can’t look away.

Stiles sniffs quietly before whispering in awe, “Is this really how you see me?”