PART 1 of an idea for a Sterek fic that just came to me in regards to the latest episode of "Teen Wolf". Do not read if you haven't yet watched it. :)
You can also read this at Ao3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/847744/
Stiles took the steps to the rickety porch one at a time and very cautiously. They looked like they might collapse at the slightest touch, and the idea that they would do so under his weight made him nervous.
He raised his closed fist to the back of the door. The paint was peeled and the door shredded even more than it had been the last time he was here with Scott. Stiles remembered his friend going completely apeshit to find out what was beneath it as Derek refused to stray from his usual cryptic responses.
Knuckles just inches from the door, Stiles suddenly dropped his hand and decided instead to kick the door open with the tip of his sneaker. He stepped inside carefully as if he expected something to fall on him as he crossed the threshold, or the door to come right off it’s hinges.
The house was dark, and gloomy, as it always was. There was no sign of movement, apart from a few leaves by his feet blowing about after a particularly strong gust of wind followed Stiles in the abandoned building.
“Derek?” he called out, still moving dangerously slow. There was no answer.
He was terrified, and to be completely honest, not at all certain why he even agreed to come here. Of course he called Scott up immediately after Derek had left a rather vague message on his phone, but only got the machine. He cursed Allison for taking away his best friend, as they hardly spent more than twenty minutes time together in weeks. Free time that is. He didn’t particularly constitute chasing down a pack of murderous alphas as ‘bonding’.
Stiles ventured further into the house, heading towards the area that looked familiar. There was a table there, which he remembered from his last visit, but this time it was cloaked in wine red fabric. It certainly didn’t look like it matched the house, contrasting brilliantly against the splintered wood of the furniture legs that it only reached mid-way of, and it most definitely wasn’t there before.
Derek didn’t live here anymore, and so the grand house was legitimately abandoned now. He’d hadn’t spent much time inside it, but the little he had didn’t seem to help at all to calm him as everything about it still made Stiles want to run back to the safety of his trusty jeep and drive away.
Stepping towards the table, the teenager leaned hesitantly against it. Resting his backside gently atop it’s edge, afraid it might break in half if he put his whole weight on it, he delved into his pocket for his cellphone. Stiles checked the time quickly and then his texts, bringing up that same message the werewolf had sent him not that long ago.
I can help you, it said.
Stiles brow furrowed again as he re-read the words. Help me with what?
Meet me in the woods. You know where. 9-o ’ clock. Tonight.
It was 8:56 now.
He thought about blowing it off, and pretending he never got it. He’d get Scott to vouch for him… somehow, but despite the fact that Stiles was becoming more comfortable around the older man, Derek still scared the shit out of him sometimes …most of the time. The idea of what he might do had Stiles chosen to ignore him, well …frankly it freaked him out more than walking through the woods alone after sun-down.
So here he was.
Running a hand through the crop of hair on his head, Stiles fluffed it up, slightly aggravated, before lifting his phone closer to his face. He scanned his address book for a name and then tapped once when he found it. He immediately heard a slight buzzing and pushed off the table somewhat startled before pressing forward to where he swore he could hear it’s source. In another chair across from him sat a blinking mobile.