True Mate » Sterek

Chapter 21

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After an overly uncomfortable and tension filled conversation between Noah, Stiles, and Derek—consisting of long pauses that were accompanied by dagger glares—the teen and werewolf stand alone in the Stilinskis living room.

"So...that was awkward," Derek mumbles, scratching the back of his head. Luckily, the sheriff had been called down to the station. "Oh, no. No, no, no. That's not what we're going to talk about," Stiles says, turning to glare at his boyfriend. "I thought we agreed on no secrets, Derek? I know you have like life long trust issues or whatever, but I thought you trusted me. You didn't think to mention that there's a threat in Beacon Hills? And the alpha pack, at that. This is sort of need to know information, Derek, relationship or not." His arms flail throughout his short rant, then he paces the room, shaking his head. "It's not like that. If I mentioned anything to you or Scott, you guys would find a way to include yourselves an—"

"Well, yeah!" Stiles exclaims, "We couldn't even fight them off together last time, and you thought 'I'll take this one on alone'? As a pack, we're supposed to work together. As a couple, we're supposed to work together. I can't believe—"

"And as the alpha, I'm supposed to protect my pack," Derek intervenes with a low growl, "I'm supposed to protect you, Stiles!"

"Should I remind you what happened last time? Because I vaguely remember you showing up at my Jeep half freaking dead!" Stiles shouts. That's the same day Stiles built up the courage to actually kiss Derek for the first time, and that's what lead them to where they are today. A flash of everything they've been through runs through the teens mind and he sighs, not getting all worked up was another promise they made to each other.

When Stiles pulls himself from his thoughts, he looks at Derek, who has his head turned away. "I'm sorry, Der. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"It's fine."

Stiles internally groans, mostly at himself but Derek's stubbornness definitely has something to do with it too. "Don't be upset, okay? I'm the one who's supposed to be upset with you." With no response, Stiles approaches Derek until he standing right in front of the wolf and reaches out to cup his face. "We were doing so good," he murmurs. "I know, Stiles," Derek says back softly, finally looking into those auburn eyes. Derek can't help but feel it's his fault, he purposely kept this from Stiles, made it a point to.

Stiles notices this look with ease, it's actually a common one that Derek holds. He blames himself for everything, carrying all the guilt for himself. Stiles stands to his tiptoes, pressing his lips gently against Derek's in an attempt to say everything is okay. Their foreheads lay together in silence, a peaceful moment. It's unsettling that Stiles can calm Derek to this level and comfort him, almost as if to wash his guilt away for a moment, to share it with someone else even. And it's unsettling because Derek is okay with it, he wants to let Stiles in despite every wall he's ever built up to keep people out. The feeling rushes through his body like a slow stream of water.

Mate.

Derek internally flinches at his wolfs sudden outburst, but Stiles' hands on each side of his face, gently brushing his stubble is reassuring.

An urgent knock at the door sends the two apart, Stiles furrowing his brow. Derek puts a hand out to keep Stiles behind him as they near the sound, it becoming louder.

"Who is it?" Stiles whispers. Derek shakes his head to say he doesn't know, it's not a familiar scent, and that could either be a good thing or a very very bad thing.

"Stiles!" A female voice calls desperately, banging on the door once again. He goes to open it but Derek catches his wrist and does it himself.

An anxious woman wearing a police uniform stands before them, sending a sympathetic look to Stiles. "Your father...he was taken."

***

"Stiles," Derek says cautiously as they climb back into his Jeep. "Damnit!" The teens yells, "Damnit, damnit, damnit!" He bangs his fist onto the steering wheel, flinching away from Derek's touch.

They couldn't track him down, after searching all night, not even one lead. Stiles is going out of his mind, to say the least.

Stiles drives back to his house, just in case Noah comes home. His gut says he won't, but at the same time, Gerard let him go that one time. It's a silent ride, and when Stiles pulls into his empt drive, he sits there and doesn't move.

"Stiles," Derek tries again, softer this time, if that's possible. "Don't!" He snaps, "Just don't."

With a sigh, Derek follows after Stiles, who has already stormed into the home. He's greeted with the teens back, Stiles staring endlessly at the kitchen with his nails digging half-moons into the palm of his hand.

"Hit me," Derek says out of no where, making Stiles turn to face him and just blink back at him. "What?"

"Hit me, Stiles. You want to get your anger out on the supernatural, right? Well I'm right here," Derek shrugs, taking a step forward. Stiles does the opposite and steps back. "No, I–I can't," he shakes his head. "I'll heal."

"That doesn't change anything," Stiles mumbles. "Yes, it does. Something took your dad, something supernatural. It wasn't the alpha pack, they would have made it known. Your dad is missing and we don't know what took him or why." Stiles feels his hand twitch in rage with each passing word. "We have no leads on this thing, no idea where to look. The cops are more useful that us. We can't help—" Derek sentence is cut short when Stiles finally lets loose, swinging angrily at the male in front of him. He grunts a little, then nods.

Stiles is crying while continuing to hit Derek however he can. His tears blur the outcome of his blows, but Derek lays on the floor quietly and takes the beating, allowing Stiles to violently vent is feelings.

Pain surges up and down the teens right arm, but he doesn't stop until he can no longer move, until he doesn't have the energy to raise his fist another time. That's when he buries his head into the crook of Derek's neck, sobbing quietly.

It's takes a while for Stiles to calm down, but when he does, he asks with a shaking voice, "Why did you let me do that?"

"Because you needed it," Derek replies simply, his fingers still tracing up and down Stiles' spine. He stifles and sits up a little, biting his lip at the sight. "Your face..." Stiles gently caresses it. "It's healed, Stiles. I'm fine. It's all dried blood."

Derek heads to the bathroom to clean up while Stiles strips down to his boxers in preparation for bed.

The werewolf wraps his arms around Stiles from behind, holding him close. "We'll start searching first thing in the morning. I promise," he murmurs.