Blurry » Sterek

Chapter 9

"Derek," Stiles whines, dragging out his best friends name. "What?" Derek sighs as he continues to lug the drunken boy up the stairs. "I wanna party, and you're pooping on it. You're a party pooper," Stiles giggles at himself, hardly aware about what's going on. "You're drunk, Stiles."

"You drank first," Stiles retorts, poking the side of his friends face. "Because it doesn't effect me the same. I didn't know you'd chug alcohol if I left you unattended," Derek scolds.

They reach some bedroom on the second floor, that Derek checks for anyone having sex, then ushers Stiles in. He trips over himself, but is caught quickly by an alert Derek. "Be careful," Derek groans, now holding the drunken boy against him. "Or what? You'll tell my dad?" Stiles laughs, booping Derek on the nose. "Shut up, Stiles."

"Don't be so sour." Derek rolls his eyes and sets Stiles carefully onto the made bed. "Stay here," Derek states. "Where are you going?" Stiles asks, looking up through his eye lashes with a lost puppy expression. Derek smiles a little, ruffling the other boys hair. "To get you some water."

The venture to the kitchen takes longer than expected, with intoxicated teenagers basically shoving Derek around. He realizes how horrible of an idea this was, coming to his uncles high school party. But Stiles was excited about it, and he would never disappoint Stiles. He's the only person Derek wants to see smile, his wolf gets pleasure in it. It's like his wolf latched onto Stiles when they first met in kindergarten, and he hasn't been able to let go since.

"Derek," Stiles whismelts when he opens the door again, "I—I don't feel good." Derek sighs and sits on the other side of the mattress, helping Stiles into a sitting position. "Here, drink this. It'll make you feel better."

"No, Der, my stomach hurts. I don't want any more to drink."

"It's water, Stiles. Please just drink it," Derek begs and places the glass to his lips. He hesitates but drinks it, then immediately places his head against Derek's chest. "I'm sorry," Stiles whispers. Derek furrows his eyebrows, peering down at the boy in his arms. "For what?"

"Drinking. I'm annoying and needy, but you're—you're you," Stiles mumbles. "You don't have to be sorry, okay? I'm the one who brought you. I shouldn't have left you alone with those guys," Derek tells him softly. "Promise?" Stiles whispers. "I promise."

"Derek?" Stiles says after a long silence has taken over them. "Hm?" He responds sleepily. "I love you." And maybe Stiles didn't mean it in the way that Derek wanted, but he said it and his wolf leaped.

The next thing Derek knows is his lips are being pressed against wet ones that taste eerily of rum, but they're soft and just like he imagined. Derek's dream, however, is cut short by a hand on his chest shoving him away.

"What're you doing? I'm not gay, Derek." And his words are like venom, the boys face quickly turning to hurt. "But—But you said..." Derek stutters and trails off, longing for Stiles to take back his last words. "Like a brother. I would never want to be with another boy—ew," he giggles before yawning, "Do you like boys, Derek?"

"I—I...um." But Derek doesn't have to hide his embarrassment or heartbreak because Stiles is already asleep, snoring quietly beside him.