Sterek Stories - A Collection - I

Stinger

"I thought rogue omega werewolves didn't come in pairs!" Stiles yelled, stretching out the last syllables hysterically in his alarm. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, miraculously staying upright although the undergrowth tried to tackle him and bring him to his doom.

Stiles had added 'death by werewolf' to his list of ways to die ever since Scott was bitten by a thoroughly insane Peter. The undead werewolf was a bit less insane these days, or at least less violent about it. Not that Stiles trusted him, not even when he didn't go around biting people against their will. Peter was still on his list, under 'death by sneaky zombie liar'.
The list was written out, kept in his bottom desk drawer. It was a pretty long list, topped by things as 'frontotemporal dementia' and 'choking on cheetos while playing video games'. Getting killed by a werewolf had been in the top ten at first, more specifically 'death by getting slammed into hard surfaces by an angry werewolf'. However, it had been ages since Derek Hale had had the urge to connect Stiles' forehead with immovable objects and the item had steadily moved down to the middle of the list. 'Death by pining' was a fairly new item on the list, and climbing. Stiles knew a thing or two about being attracted to people that were well out of his league and he'd outdone himself by falling for the dark and brooding Alpha werewolf. Derek himself wasn't helping very much, with his slowly but surely softening approach of his pack. In the beginning, Stiles liked Derek despite his angry demeanor, focussing mainly on the werewolf's frankly spectacular set of abs. That changed when he got to know Derek better; when the Alpha had the chance to breathe and think, instead of having to run headfirst into danger time after time. Anger made room for snarky and sarcastic banter, something that shouldn't give Stiles all warm and fuzzy feelings on the inside, but it did anyway. Learning that the werewolf made a mean breakfast burrito was wholly unnecessary, as was hearing a relaxed and loose limbed Derek chuckle softly when they were watching a funny movie on pack nights. All those things made Stiles only fall harder for the Alpha wolf, which was a pity, because he didn't think Derek saw him as anything more than pack. Or pack-adjacent, seeing as Stiles didn't turn all hairy and growly with the full moon. No, he was fairly certain that he would die of his silly, unreciprocated crush some day. That, or old age, whichever came first.

Stiles should have taken rogue werewolves into account, because there was one behind him now, intent on making him into werewolf shish kebab. Derek was already taking care of feral omega #1, clawing him to bloody ribbons, but of course there had to be two. He whimpered in relief when he saw Scott rounding onto his path, stance wide and claws at the ready. "Oh my god, yes," he wheezed, still running at the top of his abilities, "I'm too pretty to die."

He veered around Scott and continued to run, even though he heard Scott collide roughly with his pursuer. Experience had learned him to better be safe than sorry. Not that he put that experience to good use all that often, but it was never too late to start, right?
Of course, as always when Stiles had good intentions, things went to shit. One of his shoelaces ensnared him in a bush and he took a tumble into a ditch. Something cracked as he came down and for a short second Stiles thought it was his elbow. An angry buzzing corrected that and Stiles had to run for his life a second time. Or rather, he tried to, but he was down one sneaker and the ditch was tricky to get out of, especially when angry bees were buzzing around his head. The first sting had Stiles hiss in pain and when he tried to move away other stings quickly followed.

Someone grabbed him forcefully around his waist, yanking him from the ditch and breaking into a full speed run to escape the murderous bees. Stiles was carried like a football towards a touchdown; he was also dumped unceremoniously - but painlessly - to the ground when they reached safety.

Stiles lay on the ground, panting and groaning to make his discomfort audible to the world. Next to him was Derek, still on his feet and rolling his shoulders as he worked through healing the last of his wounds. There was a large bloody tear in his shirt, but the skin beneath it was already knitting itself together again. It was highly probable the werewolf was stung too, but his healing factor dealt with that quickly. Those were pin pricks compared to the damage from feral werewolf claws. Derek was hurt but he'd still come for Stiles. It wasn't the first time he did that and it most certainly wasn't helping him in his crush on the Alpha.