True Mate » Sterek

Chapter 2

"This was a terrible idea!" Scott nearly screams. His fists squeeze the steering wheel of Derek's slick black Camaro, as Scott frantically glances between the racing road in front of him and the SUV chasing him. "Just go faster!" Stiles demands, his full focus on whoever the hell is in the car behind them. "If I go any faster, I'm going to kill us!"

"And if you don't, whoever's in that vehicle will!" Stiles retorts. Scott clenches his jaw and steps harder onto the gas.

Stiles clicks on the radio that started this whole wild goose chase to begin with. "Suspect is on foot. Headed north-east." The teenagers share a look before the location of Derek is passed through the little radio.

Minutes later they're drifting around a corner, toe-to-toe with the competition. Sirens are right on their heels and the flash arrows announce the Argents presence. The car comes squealing to a stop, the passenger door being thrown open. "Get in!" Stiles shouts. Derek squints at the teen in front of him with his vision still hazy, but his lips almost slip into a small smile. Never has Derek been so grateful for some smart ass kid.

An argument about trust erupts, which Derek wastes no time shutting down. Scott sighs and after a moment says, "You can't keep telling me to trust you, if you can't trust me."

"Yeah. Both of us," Stiles chimes in, sticking his head between the two front seats. Derek immediately shoots him a warning glare, making him duck back with his arms crossed like he's pouting. It's not that he doesn't trust Stiles, hell, up to this point, he trusts Stiles more than Scott. But it's not Dereks fault that every time he's around the Stilinski all he can focus on his that damn scent of his. It's distracting and down right agitating. For the life of him, Derek can't figure out why.

"What's the spiral mean, Derek?" Scott asks with a bit of bite in his voice. Stiles leans forward, earning a quick glance from the wolf with blue eyes. Since Derek doesn't growl, Stiles stay as is, leaning up against the back of his seat. Derek licks his lips, giving Scott an intense look. "It means he wants revenge."

***

Stiles kicks his shoes off just after entering his bedroom. He plops into his desk chair and slides open his phone.

"Stiles!" Noah calls up to his son. Stiles turns in his chair to respond. "Da—Derek!" Derek's eyes grow and he quickly points at the door, gesturing for Stiles to get up and do something about the nearing Sheriff. Stiles stumbles over to his door, still partially in shock from a werewolf just casually hiding in his room.

"What'd you just say?"

"I uh, I said 'hey..dad'!" Stiles says, closing the door behind him so his father can't see in. Noah gives him a funny look, but that's nothing new. "Hey. I just wanted to let you know that I'm taking the night off so I can watch your first game," he smiles fondly at his son. "Cool. That's...great," the teen chuckles nervously. "Okay, I just wanted to tell you that. I'm excited for this, and I'm proud of you."

"Me too. I mean...I'm proud and excited...for me too," Stiles responds choppily. "Okay," Noah says for the last time, clearly his son has something better to do. He pulls Stiles into a hug, who awkwardly waddles further into the hallways before pulling back.

"Proud of you," Noah calls one last time. "Me too...again. Heh." Stiles can't close his bedroom door fast enough, but he goes from one shitty situation to the next.

Derek pins him firmly against his wooden door. "Say anything and I swear.." he trails off. "Like what? 'Hey dad, Derek Hale is in my room. Bring your gun'," he instantly sasses. This only earns Stiles to be pushed more forcefully. "Stiles—" he grits before being cut off. "Listen, I'm the one harboring your fugitive werewolf ass. Maybe you should be listening to me for once." Much to the teens surprise, Derek nods a little. "Okay," He says, tugging at the end of Stiles shirt. Stiles grins like an idiot, patting Derek on the chest and straightening out his coat as well.

Derek jerks in Stiles direction, just for the hell of it. "Oh my, god," he jumps back, flinching away, making a ghostly smirk appear on Derek's lips.

After growing tired of the mysterious werewolf facade that Derek constantly feels the need to have up, Stiles begins blabbering on until he finally gets a response. "What'd you say?" Derek asks sharply. "Oh my god, sour-wolf, for the last time, we thought you were dead. Let it go," Stiles groans. He gets it, Scott and him sort of made Derek the most wanted man in all of California, but it's not like they did it on purpose. They thought they were blaming a dead man. Derek growls. "Not that. Before then."

"Oh," Stiles breaths in relief, "You mean about someone sending Allison a message from Scott's phone, but it wasn't him?" Derek tilts his head, an annoyed yet confused expression taking over his usual blank face. "Then who did?"

"If I knew that, don't you think I would have mentioned it? Besides, I know how to find out I just need someone first."

That's all it takes, a little bit of pressuring, but Stiles caves nonetheless. He calls Danny about doing some lab work, they're partners after all, but really he needs the boy for his computer skills.

"We're doing lab work," Danny protests for what seems like the hundredth time. "Fine. Fine," Stiles mumbles. He lets an uncomfortable silence take over the room until Danny glances over his shoulder at some hunky stranger.

"Who's he again?"

"Um..my cousin...Miguel," he lies slowly, earning a pointed glare. Danny bites his lip and steals another look. "Is that blood on his shirt?" Stiles actually turns around this time, cursing softly under his breath but covering it with a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, he gets these...just horrible noes bleeds." Then another thought comes rushing through Stiles mind. "Hey, Miguel, I said you could barrow one of my shirts, didn't I?" Stiles is pretty sure he can hear the faintest growl, he'll definitely pay for this later.

If Danny won't help him now, he's sure to give in once Derek takes his shirt off. You're welcome, Danny. Stiles grins to himself, but is instantly caught off guard because he really is fit. And sure, Stiles was with him in the animal clinic but Derek's life was on the line, it's not like he had much free time to admire.

"Stiles, this," Derek tugs at a collared shirt, "No fit," his eyes burning a hole into the back of the teens head. Stiles is hesitant to turn around, afraid of Derek reading him like an open book; and Derek does just that. "So find another one."

Derek has to sniff again, confused by that intoxicating smell, it's different this time. Arousal.