As Long As It Takes [A Sterek Fanfiction]

The room was all but empty now, save for the water that still flooded the loft, Derek frozen in position before where Boyd's body once lay, and Stiles sitting on the floor by the doorway - just watching.

The younger male opened his mouth to speak again but closed it just as quickly, finding that he still could not find the words he wanted to say. He longed to conjure some form of comfort within them, something more than a simple touch to his shoulder that had only lasted a short while before Derek pushed him away. But there was nothing. His mind was blank, just like Derek's expression.

The water that had been meant as an electrifying trap specifically for Kali, was beginning to soak into the teens shoes, but he hardly noticed until he managed to find the courage to rise to his feet and pad across the room. His feet made squelching noises as he went, but the sound went unnoticed to the werewolf staring off into nothingness in front of him.

Scott and Isaac had carried Boyd's body out long ago, otherwise Derek might instead be staring still at the lifeless form. He would look to his shaking hands, claws now retracted, leaving only blood from the forced despicable act, on them, then back to the one who no longer drew breath. It was because of him that Boyd was dead.

"Derek?"

Stiles voice sounded softly behind him.

"It's my ..."

"Nuh uh! No! Don't you even try to start with that." Stiles shot him down right away before Derek was able to finish his sentence, kneeling down in the wet next to the man he had grown to love. He must, mustn't he? Why else would he have elected to stay when all the others had long gone?

"Boyd is dead, because of me, Stiles."

Stiles said nothing. Technically it was true, and even though he hadn't actually been there to witness anything, Stiles knew there was no way Derek was the monster he thought he was. He didn't do this on purpose. He didn't have a choice. 

Running his hand swiftly through his hair, dampening it from the water deposits, Stiles put it on Derek's shoulder again lightly before swinging his body around to face the elder. He made a small splash with both quick steps this action took, and they soaked into the bottom of his pants.

"Don't do this to yourself, man," said Stiles. Without permission or fear that he would lose his fingers if he reached to touch him, the young man did just that, using one hand he scooped it under one of Derek's own and gently brought it down to the water. Derek's eyes remained fixed ahead, and now that Stiles blocked the path of what he had been focussed on before, it appeared Derek was looking right at him. Or, at least, through him.

The blood came off easily in the smooth fluid, but the stuff under his no longer menacing —and much shorter— talons took a lot more effort. Rubbing at the palm of his hand, and sliding what little nail he did have underneath Derek's, Stiles removed every trace of blood that he could from one hand and then the other.

When he had finished, he kept a firm grip and his free appendage came up to cup Derek's face.

"Derek?"

With a soft shake, once, twice, Stiles urged Derek to look up at him, his fingers playing at the angle of his jaw as he waited for the older man to come back to earth in hopes that he might for once listen to him. Slowly but surely, and perhaps somewhat reluctantly, the alpha raised his head and his eyes slowly.

Stiles offered the male a warm smile. It wasn't his usual show of contentment, as the voltage was nowhere near the same, more like a sight flicker in a dying bulb, but there was enough light there to show a slight curve of his lips at least. Derek didn't really respond to it other than flicking his eyes to the area and then back up to Stiles gaze.

Leaning in ever so carefully, as if Stiles were afraid that any moment Derek might break out of his daze and bite his nose off, the teen pressed his lips softly and precisely to fit into the mold that Derek's lips made when they pressed together. The movement against the man's bottom lip was slow, and judging from the stillness against Stiles' own mouth, was not about to be reciprocated.

"It is not. Your. Fault." Stiles spoke reassuringly when he pulled back. Derek's eyes might have been a little wider, as if this were the first time Stiles had kissed him, but it could easily just have been a trick of the very dim lighting.

Stiles could feel the slight scratch against his palm as he slid it down off Derek's face where there was a prockling of hair. He hadn't bothered shaving for a few days, and in light of recent events it wasn't likely he was going to for a few more.

Rising from the swamped floor, taking Derek's hand with him, Stiles gave a slight tug as if to say 'Come.' To his surprise, Derek actually listened and he followed, his slow and heavy steps sloshing more water into Stiles shoes. He didn't care. His socks couldn't possibly get any wetter anyway.

Stiles pulled them all the way to the sofa and then Derek down again, next to him on the hard cushions. The man's eyes were still glassed over, and it made Stiles heart splinter even more. The pain in his chest was almost real, causing the younger male to rub a small circle there before snatching a pillow out from behind his back.

He placed it at one end of the couch, right to the rear of him, never once taking his eyes from Derek. He would make the contact a lifeline, and he was not about to let go, just as he had struggled not to for hours in that pool back when the Kanima had trapped them there. This time there was no struggle, and it had nothing to do with the pair of them being on solid ground now.

The piece of furniture they both shared wasn't exactly large, but it was big enough for the pair of them if they squeezed in closer, and thats exactly what Stiles planned to do. Lying down so his head was facing the opposite wall and he was flush against the sofa back, he reached up for Derek. Angled so the two men still made eye contact, his head not quite completely vertical, Stiles helped to ease Derek on his side into the space before him.

Immediately he put his arm over the older male's waist and slide his fingers up over the planes of muscle in Derek's side until once again Stiles had the sharp jut of the brunette's jaw in the dip of his hand.

"Come here."

Stiles brought them even closer still, Derek scooting his body without even being told —perhaps longing for the touch— and pressed their foreheads together.

Derek closed his eyes almost immediately, and Stiles took the opportunity to plant a warm kiss to the skin just above the man's brow. They were so close that Stiles could feel the still steadying beat of Derek's heart against his own chest, intermixing with his body's biological rhythm, and Derek's hands found the teen's waist of their own accord.

Stiles had admittedly been quite cold earlier, what with his clothes spotted every which place with cool water, but now being this close to the werewolf he sought to comfort, he could feel his body temperature rising. Whether it was from Derek's extreme heat or the closeness to the man himself, Stiles did not know. He didn't even care anymore that his cover was blown, for how much he really did like the man lying opposite him, as Derek began to calm rapidly. His form less rigid, his muscles considerably less tense.

One thing was for sure. Stiles was not leaving. Not anytime soon.

"I'll be here as long as it takes, Derek."