Out Of Milk

14

Derek was running. He was always running, anything to get rid of the feeling of hopelessness. He hadn't felt like this since he was a teenager, looking at the burnt out shell of a house that he'd once called home – knowing that it was his fault. He hated feeling helpless. Hated feeling unsure, or nervous – and he had been feeling that way for months. Moving in with the Sheriff had been a bad idea, he knew the moment he'd accepted. The older man had treated him like… like a member of the family – hell, he'd even taken to calling him 'Son' when he wasn't really thinking, and Derek missed his dad so much, he'd just clung to that, like a life raft. But it always came back to one thing – Stiles. The kid was going to kill him, or get him shot, or arrested, or all three – and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint the sheriff who'd welcomed him into his house.

So he spent the nights running – and the days working on the house. Trying to keep the kid out of trouble and out of his way – which was impossible since the pack seemed to think that the Stilinski house was their private meeting place. It annoyed him that his Betas climbed through Stiles window, sat on his bed and just chatted away to him for hours. It killed him that Isaac seemed to think that touching Stiles was perfectly okay. And if the teenage boy came back from School one more time with the heavy scent of his Betas lingering over his pulse points again, Derek was going to rip their tongues out.

The full moon was tomorrow – Derek would have to deal with another week of fall-out after. Because if he hated the smell of his Betas on Stiles, he despised the scent of him in Stiles. The blood that he ingested permeated his skin, every time he moved he would smell like Derek, mixed with his own scent – and it lingered for days. He'd missed the last moon because Isaac was ill, but the younger wolf was able to shift now – and so Derek would have to deal with the fact that for about 6 days, Stiles would be walking about smelling like his lover. And Derek couldn't touch him. He was only 17 – a fact he all too frequently forgot.

The house was almost finished now, he slowed as he approached the dark shape. The door was open, like he'd left it, and as he walked through the great room he could smell his shame, the smell of his semen and lust, Stiles anger and frustration. The boy had been hurt, angry, confused – and Derek had held him down and taken what he wanted – what he needed.

It was worse, worse than anything, because the only heavy scent of sex in the air belonged to Derek. Because Stiles magic ran through the whole house, unless someone had spent their whole life seeing smells, they wouldn't have even known that Stiles had been there with him. Which made him feel worse, because at least before, Stiles had gotten off as much as he had.

He walked up the dark stairs to the bedroom he'd designed – huge and open. The glass walls would let in so much light, and as he stood in the middle of the empty space, he felt as though he were standing in the forest. Although privacy wasn't a concern to wolves, the contractor had put one way glass instead of the regular glaze Derek had suggested. From the outside it looked like mirrors, reflecting back the trees. The upper part of the house looked almost invisible during the day – only at night did you really see the size. Isaac's rooms were on the other side of the house. Far enough away that he wouldn't have to listen to the marathon sex that Isaac and Reever were no doubt having.

He'd put extra rooms in, Boyd and Erica would be downstairs – and a few guest rooms between his and Isaacs. The kitchen was his pride and joy. He loved everything about the house, but the smell… the smell was killing him. When Stiles had told him that runes would stop the place from ever burning, he'd leapt at the chance, not aware that Stiles magic would permeate the house with the smell of Stiles. It was like he was in the walls, the floor, everywhere. Derek was never going to be able to sleep in this place – he was already hard. He tried not to think of the guest room that joined his via the bathroom, tried not to think that he'd put that connecting door there because he'd wanted Stiles to have that other room. He needed to get that boy out of his life – and soon – before he did something stupid and ended up getting shot by the kids dad.