The Fault In Our Sterek {Editing}

Chapter 4

Stiles' POV:

The elevator ride down was horrific, just aching to spend time with Derek. I want to spend as much time with him as possible, that's all I want to do. During one of many day dreams about Derek shirtless, a menacing roar is heard from inside the apartment. I struggle to identify who it came from but I can only presume that it's Derek, from the extremity of it, which terrifies me. I start jabbing the up button in an effort to speed up the elevator. The elevator finally reaches the bottom of the shaft after a painstakingly long five seconds. The door opens revealing the rest of the pack, all looking just as confused and worried as I am - they clearly heard it too.

The elevator couldn't be any slower, even if it tried. Fears for Derek race through my mind, what if he's hurt, what if he's been shot, killed or even kidnapped. The rest of the pack mumble their own worries and theories but I don't even realise what they're saying because I'm too busy being lost in thought. What if Kate's gotten him, god knows what that crazy hunter would do to him. The panic overwhelms me and my breath starts to become rigid. My lungs feel like they are closing in on me like the edges of my lungs are two walls, closing in on my breaths. My palms moisten and my vision goes blurry I almost forget where we are until the elevator dings and the pack vacates into Derek's flat.

At the sight of the devastation in there - Derek on top of Peter attacking him, I relax. Obviously I shouldn't relax because Derek is in crazy wolf mode and is trying to kill Peter but Derek is alive and he isn't hurt. I was relieved to say the least. There was also a hint of fear then, I've never seen Derek attack someone like this. Unsurprisingly it was Peter because that guy is a total asshole ninety-nine percent of the time. This side of him scares me though, the power he holds in his wolf side is still a lot, but not more than Scott's now. It doesn't bother me too much because I care about Derek a lot more than I ever let off. I mean come on, he's beautiful. Truly and utterly flawless even with his blue eyes. I know he hates them, but I think they're stunning. I keep trying to fling the thoughts away but I can't. I have feelings for Derek, strong feelings that just keep on resurfacing every time I see his longing innocent face that contains so much pain and hatred. I always feel sorry for Derek, especially the night we lost Boyd. My heart tore in two that night for Derek.

I had spent all this time thinking to myself that I didn't even realise Isaac and Scott pinning Derek on the floor and are trying to restrain him. Scott successfully holding him down but Isaac struggling a bit he's only a beta anyway. I make my way towards Derek. He's going crazy, slashing his fangs around trying to tear off any limb his mouth can reach. The sight should send me running for the hills but  I have to do something. Words start to flow out of my mouth in a soothing tone. The words and way I speak are a replication of my mum and how she used to speak to me after I had fallen over and grazed my knee. Derek returns from his state and the harsh reality of what he has done finally hits him. It hits him hard.

Derek looks like a lost puppy, looking around the flat in shock and in fear. The expression drawn upon his face makes me want to grab hold of him and shield him from what he has just done.

"W-wh-what hap-p-pend?" He questions as if he didn't already know. He knew what had happened. His hands were stained red with Peter's blood. Derek looks as if he were about to cry, and that look is killing me inside. I just want to help him and hold him but I can't, not here and not ever. Derek could never love someone like me. Never. He continues to look around the room, as if he were waiting for one of us to tell him but he knew that we weren't going to answer.

Finally someone speaks, and it's Lydia who pipes up. "Stiles why don't you take Derek upstairs and make sure he cleans up." she suggests with a wink. I shoot her a look and she just raises her eyebrows at me. She must know about my feelings for him, But she is Lydia - she's not only a genius but a banshee-physic-whatever. And I guess I have been quite close with Lydia since Jackson left, and she knows about my bisexuality.

"Come on Derek lets get you sorted out." I say through gritted teeth. My hand rests on his back but it repels like it's been shocked. My hands are shaking like mad and I can't control it. I desire to comfort him, to replace my hand on his back and guide him but my nerves are soaring with the unknown result as to how he will react to my touch. Some sense returns into my mind and I decide it to just do it anyway, my hand replaces it's position on Derek's back and I conduct him to his room upstairs. His bed used to be downstairs but I'm glad he decided to move it upstairs and into a room so we, no - he,  can get some privacy and remove himself from the situation downstairs.

Derek's bedroom has a large double bed with dark sheets and covers, a bedside table and a small chest of drawers next to a door that I assume leads to a bathroom, just the essentials. It's nothing big and it's very simple but it is all very... 'Derek'. Nothing over the top, just what he needs to get by.

I lead Derek into his bathroom and find my way to his sink. It's a decent size, with a bath, a shower, a toilet and a sink. The tap ejects water onto Derek's hands and I use my own to wash away the blood. His hands are warm and soft, and are a perfect fit to mine. My palms linger over Derek's for longer than I should have allowed but I couldn't care less. I should probably question whether this much of adrenaline in my body is dangerous or not, but this is just the way Derek makes me feel

After drying Derek's hands we return to his bedroom and I rummage through his chest of draws to find a new shirt for him to wear. I pick out a grey V-neck, my favourite piece of clothing of his. All the time I do Derek is sat on the edge of his bed, not saying a word, staring at the wall. I worry about him, and what's going through his head but I daren't ask, for his sake just as much as my own.

"Here put this on." I try handing Derek the shirt but he won't take it. He keeps staring at the wall. "I'm not putting it on for you." At that he slowly looks up at me with a raised eyebrow and a grin that says 'pfft'. I let out a groan before going over to him, he knew that I wanted to. Derek stands with a wide smile on his face. His teeth sneak out from behind his lips, and I feel relief that I made him happy, even momentarily.

I trace the hem of Derek's current shirt with my finger, a burgundy one thankfully as Peter's blood has been splattered all over it. I grip hold of the hem and lift it up, revealing Derek's bare torso. My spare hand slides around Derek's torso, into the hollows of his muscular chest and the depth of his v-line. Derek lifts up his arms and I pull the shirt over his head. Derek's arms fall around mine as they come down in an embrace. "Thank you" he whispers into my ear.

"I'm not done yet. But boy do I wish I was." I respond with a smirk on my face. I receive a quiet husky laugh from Derek.

I try to pull back from Derek's embrace but he just pulls me back towards himself. "I didn't say I was finished either." He whispers. A bigger smile this time appears upon my face. I laugh at him and we stay there for some moments, in each other's arms. Derek's arms comfort me, his biceps pressing into mine making me feel warm and my knees weak. The embrace makes me feel more excited than I have ever felt before. My body tingles inside the grip of Derek's arms. His chest rises and falls against mine, and I rest my head against his chest.

My mind tells me not to but my body manages to release myself from his grip and replace his torso with the clean shirt, slowly. Very very slowly. Afterwards I look at him, this huge werewolf mess, and I give him a stroke on the arm.

"Stiles. Do you think I'm a monster?" He questions me.

I look straight into his eyes before responding. I know he'll be listening to my heartbeat but he doesn't need to. I'm not going to lie to him about this. "No Derek. You're not a monster. You're a beautiful young man. You'd have to do more than that to scare me." Derek smiles, he adds in a thanks so I turn to leave the bedroom.

"Oh Stiles, one more thing?" He inquires just before my hand can turn the handle on the door.

"Yeah sure Derek." I turn around to look at Derek, his head is low and he looks up at me sheepishly, with a nervous smile painted on his face. The word that he whispers sends a shot of excitement throughout my body.

"Stay?"