True Mate » Sterek

Chapter 1

Buh-duh-duh-dum, another Sterek because I'm gay-shipper trashhh.

Follows some actual Teen Wolf stuff, but it's also out of order. Basically a whole lot of fanfic logic going on.

But it's Sterek, so I mean, come on. Why not.

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Derek leans over the metal table, unable to hold himself up. "Ew. What are you doing?" Stiles whines, backing away from the heaving werewolf. Instead of a response, Derek throws up black gunk, making the teenager jump back. "Oh my—what the hell is that?!"

"It's my body...trying to heal itself," he explains. "Well it's not doing a very good job," Stiles retorts, "Seriously, I think I'm gonna be sick." Derek grabs him by the shirt, pulling Stiles closer. "We have to do it now." Stiles covers his mouth with the back of his hand, nearly throwing up at the thought of chopping someone's arm off—and Derek's arm at that. "Are you sure about this? Dying seems like a pretty good altern—"

"Stiles!" He hisses.

"Oh god, okay. Okay," he nods a little and takes the saw from Derek, turning it on for a second. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Here we go. Alright." He takes a few heavy breaths, preparing himself for the sight that one usually only experiences in horror movies. "Just do it," Derek growls. Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to think about what he's going to do.

3...2...

"Stiles! I—what the hell are you guys doing?!" Scott exclaims, running into the room. Derek and Stiles shoot each other a look, but decide its best to go unsaid.

"Do you have it?"

Scott fishes it from his jeans pocket and holds it up. Derek doesn't waste any time snatching it away. "What now?" Stiles asks. He looks at Derek expectingly, who's holding the bullet up to eye level. "I'm...I'm gonna—"

"Derek?"

Within seconds the male hits the floor, their magical bullet rolling away and into a drain. "No," Scott yells, acting quick to retrieve it. Stiles, on the other hand, climbs over Derek and repeatedly pats his face. "Come on, Derek, wake up. Come on."

"I...can't reach it," Scott strains out, his finger tips barely brushing the metal. "He's not waking up. Scott, he's not breathing, I think he might be dead." With that said, Stiles only tries harder to wake the werewolf. He picks up Derek's head and drops it back onto the cement, but even then nothing happens.

"I got it!" Scott announces. Stiles goes to his last resort, pulling his fist back. "Please don't kill me for this," Stiles mutters before swinging full force into the side of Derek's jaw. He sits straight up, knocking Stiles back onto his butt and hands, staring wide-eyed.

"Give it to me," Derek demands, already on his feet with the help of Stiles and Scott. He rips the bullet apart with his teeth, dumping the contents of it onto the table. He lights the herb on fire and doesn't waste a second for it to cool off. Instead, he sweeps the ashes into the palm of his hand and pushes it into his bullet wound.

"Ahh!" He falls to the floor, nearly knocking Stiles down in the process, his back arching in pain while he continues to scream. "Derek," Stiles says worriedly, but he releases a held in breath when it all stops.

"Are you okay?" Scott asks slowly. "Besides the agonizing pain?" Derek immediately sasses. "I'd say his use of sarcasm is a sign of good health," Stiles grins, only to be glared at. "Hey, buddy, just be glad I didn't have to chop your arm off, okay?"

"Whatever. Just take me home."

"Wha—me?!" Stiles points to himself, glancing between the two other males. "Sorry, dude. I rode here on my bike," Scott shrugs. "But I—"

"Let's go," Derek says, cutting off whatever excuse Stiles might come up with.

Stiles hops into his Jeep with a groan. "Aren't you strong enough to run yourself home or something?" He's met with an unamused expression. "Stiles. Start the car."

"Man, I'm never gonna get this smell out of my Jeep," he mumbles under his breath, refusing to look at Derek. Yeah, he's glad the wolf is alive, but couldn't he try being a little grateful? Scott and Stiles saved his life after all.

The drive is eerily silent, something that makes Stiles antsy, unable to sit still. His fingers continue to tap the steering wheel after they come to a stop outside of the burnt Hale house.

Derek opens the door, hesitating as he looks back at the teenager, who stares back at him. "Thank you," Derek mumbles. Stiles smiles, "Did Derek Hale just thank me?"

"Shut up, Stiles," He grouches and hops from the Jeep, leaving Stiles to sigh contently.

It was that night everything started. Stiles didn't realize it, how worked up he had become over some werewolf he barely knew. Stiles didn't realize that this one night mishap would be a common recurrence. Stiles didn't realize he almost immediately caught the eye of Derek Hale.