Black Love [SUPERWOLF]

Kitchen Knife, What a Bribe

"Fair?" Stiles took a step closer to Derek. "Nothing is fair, Derek! Nothing! Everything is so fucked up that if anything, it wouldn't be fair if something ever went right!"

"Stiles"―Derek held his breath, no longer able to tolerate the scent of hatred and anxiety in his mate"―I am asking you again to calm down."

Stiles' lips parted, prepare to sing a string of curses 'til his phone rang; saving both he and Derek from something both would soon regret. Stiles turned away from Derek, pressing harshly against the phone until the other line was brought to life.

"Stiles?"

"What?" Stiles barked, not recognizing who spoke from the other end.

"Uh"―the other line falls quiet―"is everything okay?"

"Peachy." Stiles drawled dryly. "Who is this?"

"It's Sam. I'm calling to let you know that Dean and I will be out."

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked with little interest.

"Doctors, for the blood test. Remember?" he asked, without truly expecting an answer. "Then we are going to stop by our apartment and pick up some stuff."

Derek could see something click in Stiles' eyes. "Oh, really?" he sounded hardly intrigued. "Which Motel did you stay at?"

"The Nomad's Resort. Why?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing!" Stiles said, his laughter empty. "What time do you think you'll be back?"

"Not until late," Sam sounded quizzical, as though he were unsure of his own words. "Listen, if I'm back in time, do you want to get dinner?"

Stiles' face twisted in a grimace. "Uh, no. I mean, no thanks. I― I want to, I do." Stiles pretended for a moment he couldn't feel Derek's glare, seeping into his soul. "But it's date night. Next time, maybe. Bye."

As Stiles quickly diminished the phone call, he looked to Derek, who still wore a heavy stare. "Date night? The last time I suggested we have a 'date night' you called me 'Mushy Wolf' and laughed at me."

"But- But this is a date!"

"Stiles, I am not breaking into your Brother's cheap, Motel room."

"Why? Are you afraid we'll find something?" Stiles inquired.

"No. I just don't want to waste my time searching for something we'll never find."

"Derek, I'm leaving. With, or without you."

. . .

[TEEN WOLF: Nomad Motel]

Derek pretended Stiles' taunt hadn't gotten him here. He also pretended he hadn't helped Stiles break into the WInchester Hotel apartment. Derek also pretended Stiles didn't hold out a used shirt in his face, but pretending grew harder and harder as the shirt was pushed closer and closer.

Derek smelt bourbon, mint, and gunpowder.

"Stiles!" Derek barked, taking the shirt away from the persistent human. "Why am I going to sniff this?"

"To see if you smell anything suspicious." Stiles stated, as though it was an idea far too common to ignore. "Duh!"

"It smells like bourbon."

"Bourbon?"

"And mint."

"Mint? Is that it?" Stiles leaned in closer toward Derek, the scattered shirt forgotten. Derek wanted to look away from Stiles, to lie, and Stiles knew this too. He knew because he held his face so close, swarming Derek's vision in nothing but whiskey colored eyes. "What else did you smell?" he asked sounding almost seductive.

The two held eye contact; neither giving in. "You said my job was to keep watch." Derek said, leaning back from the human touch. Stiles didn't say anything to Derek, much to the former Alpha's surprise, he only huffed.

Stiles left to the nearest bedroom; where he stroked the bed sheets flat until there wasn't so much as a wrinkle. "I know there's something here," Stiles spoke into his breathe, his fingers slipping beneath hiding place so obvious Stiles nearly cried. "Hey, Derek," Stiles called, his voice quivering in the slightest.

Derek looked from the clear glass to Stiles; whose body was hunched forward, his right arm hidden beneath a pillow, his body statue-still. "What's wrong?"

"Does this"―Stiles' hand slowly reached out from beneath the pillow―"count as nothing?"

Unearthed from beneath the pillow, was a piece of wood nearly five inches wide and eight inches thick, made of sheer would with a point so sharp, it worried Derek. But it was what curled around the piece of wood, that truly frightened Derek.

"Wolfsbane."

"Derek, babe," Derek's foot was raised halfway as he made to step toward Stiles, but the human threw himself back; falling mistakenly into the second mattress across from the first. "Don't be an idiot, Derek! This is wolfsbane! It can kill you!"

"But your cuts, Stiles! On your knuckles," Derek desperately made his way to Stiles, who continued to retreat further back. "They'll get infected."

Stiles pulled himself further away from Derek, not halting his movements or addressing Derek's please for him to let go until he'd locked himself away in the bathroom―Derek, banging his fist against the heavy wood frame. "Stiles―"

"I am not leaving here until you get out of this room," Stiles didn't bother shouting; he knew the werewolf could hear each word, but it made him wonder if Derek could still hear the fear in his voice through the heavy frame. "Text me when you are in the car. I'll get a ride from Lydia, or Allison, and we'll meet up later."

"Stiles―"

"I need you to leave, Derek."

"Stiles, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because...." there's a hesitation in Derek. A hesitation that makes Stiles' heart stop. "Your brother is here."