I can see the darkness in your eyes / can you see the love in my heart?

[tsunwolf]

It's a phonecall that brings Derek back to Beacon Hills. Cora argues, ends up staying in New York. The whole idea was getting away from these things. It's not an escape if he comes running when they need him. But Derek doesn't care, because there is a short list of things that will get him to come running, and even if he'd never admit to it, never say it out loud, Stiles Stilinski is one of those things. And so he packs up his things, heads back out west, drives too long and too fast until he's back in Beacon Hills, breathing in air that is sick with the smell of memories. It's been months, and it doesn't hurt so much, he doesn't feel like his ribs are collapsing under the guilt, but it's still... he's not sure he belongs here anymore.

He's certain that he doesn't deserve Stiles, not when someone can so easily get into his head like that.

He rents a room at the small bed and breakfast in town, someplace to drop his things off, and then he heads over to see Scott. It's not an hour later that he finds himself standing alone, looking at the teenager. There's something about him, a change that is both seductive and off-putting. It's like someone polished the rough edges, and lined them with razorblades. He's gorgeous, and it's in how he moves, but Derek misses those jittery twitches, the things he did with his hands. How normally, Stiles would be halfway through babbling about something or other instead of looking at him like he wants to devour him whole.

"Scott's worried about you."

It's a stupid, obvious statement, but Derek has to say something, break the silence before it eats him alive. He doesn't say what he meant: I'm worried about you.

Comments

[bemycatwoman]

"Wow," Stiles says, eyebrows raising in put-on surprise. "And he's got a messenger that he calls in from New York to relay that to me? That's pretty impressive."

Nothing has changed, but he's not the same. He's still Stiles, still lanky and goofy looking, as quick to smile as he is to bite with sarcasm, but he's easier. He moves more easily, more fluid, more purposefully, like there's a plan in everything he does. He's easier on the eyes, but it's hard to look at too long, hard to focus on where the charmingly gawkish boy has been replaced with this dangerous, seductive creature.

His eyes trail down Derek's body, as if he's seeing him for the first time, and a part of him is. That part that's new, that's darker than he used to be, is seeing the Derek that he's previously only been able to see in Stiles' memories and filthy thoughts. He controls the impulse to smile as he sifts through those perverted thoughts, things that Stiles had conjured up, things that were so much more depraved than your average sex-crazed teenage virgin. Not that he still was a virgin, these days.

There's more. More that Stiles had never known, pieces that the demon in him can see through to. He can tell that Derek wants him. Or well, that Derek wanted Stiles, the way he had been, full of energy, jittery, powerless and yet so stupidly courageous, always pushing back until there was nothing left within him, no reserves of strength with which to push. That was when he'd reached out, when he'd met Crowley, and when he'd made a deal. Rather than barter his soul for a prize, this was the prize, this demon who now shared his body and mind. With it brought power and control over himself, his surroundings, it was answer and payment all in one, and Stiles was loving it.

He pushed the door open and leaned against it, his black t-shirt inching up his lean torso just a bit as he slouched against it, the pose effortlessly seductive and inviting, but his gaze predatory, trapping Derek with those pretty brown eyes.

"Come in," he says, and it's not so much an invitation as it is a command, and if Derek refuses him, he's going to grab a fist-full of shirt and drag him inside because he knows this is were Derek wants to be.