"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.
"Son of a bitch!" Stiles cradled his right hand, where he was stung twice. There was an angry red welt on the back of his hand and another one just like it making his pinky twice its normal size. It hurt something fierce. Stiles had never been stung before and he was not keen on ever repeating the experience. This sucked. Literally, because although he didn't know much about bee stings, he knew he had to suck out the venom. He latched his mouth onto the bee sting in the hope draining the venom would make it hurt less.
"Dude!" Scott came running over. "Were those bees?" Stiles nodded, sucking angrily on a sting on his left wrist. "Did you get stung?" Scott really had a knack for pointing out the obvious. His friend made a face at him. "Man, that must suck."
"Really, Scott?" Stiles bit out at him. "Really?"
Scott smiled sheepishly.
Stiles glared at him as he got to his feet. There was something burning painfully on his arm, probably another bee sting. He angled his arm to look at it, and there it was, right on top of his elbow. "Fucking great," he sighed angrily and tried to reach the spot with his mouth, against better judgement. He only tried two times, knowing it was futile. He'd never been able to lick his elbow before and that wasn't gonna change now. "A little help here, Scotty?" he urged, brandishing his hurt arm at his werewolf friend.
Scott hesitated. "I don't know, man. I'm allergic to bee stings."
"You're a fucking werewolf! You'll heal!" The pain of the stings worked badly on Stiles' mood.
His friend looked doubtful. "Can't we get one of those suction things? I think we have one at home in the first aid kit under the sink."
"We're in the middle of the Preserve!" Stiles called out, exasperated. He wanted to say some more choice words to his friend, yet Derek put a hand on Scott's shoulder.
"Go call the others. We need to clean up the bodies," Derek suggested reasonably, as the calm and level headed Alpha he was these days. Well, most days at least. Scott was traitorously quick to follow the instructions, jogging back to where they'd taken out the omegas.
That left Stiles with Derek, who was suddenly standing a lot closer than he usually did. Before he could form an opinion on that, Derek had taken his arm, lifting it up gently and then putting his mouth to it. Stiles could only stare as he watched the Alpha hollow his cheeks and draw sharply on the bite. Derek spat the venom out on the forest ground, looking back up at Stiles. "More?"
Stiles nodded dumbly and turned his face, where a sharp, glowing pain indicated another bee sting on the edge of his jaw.
"The stinger is still stuck in it," Derek remarked off-handedly, like this was all no big deal. Meanwhile, Stiles had an internalized freak out because of the careful way Derek was cupping his jaw with his hand.
"Good thing you're not allergic," he said, examining the sting. "They really got to you." His hand strayed lower, almost to the base of Stiles' throat, where another angry bee had given up its life to sting the human that damaged their nest.
"Yeah," Stiles answered, voice cracking embarrassingly. "Thanks for getting me out of there."
"Of course," Derek replied in a warm tone that made Stiles' heartbeat skip a little. It was all the warning he had before there was a werewolf sucking on his jaw. Startled, his hands flew up, one landing on Derek's chest and the other on his shoulder.
The Alpha steadied him with a hand on his arm and one on his hip. It was so much like a lover's embrace that Stiles couldn't help but breathe out a soft little 'oh'. The hand on his hip flexed in response.
Derek continued to hold him, even as he spat out the venom and nosed around the sting, scenting the little wound. "I think I got it all out," he said, though Stiles didn't quite register that.
He was helpless in the werewolf's hands, baring his neck as Derek gently nudged his head up to get better access. His hand slid up from Derek's shoulder to the back of the man's head on its own accord, his fingers sliding through the short hairs and anchoring themselves as Derek now put both hands on his hips, slipping each underneath the hem of his T-shirt, the digits searing into his skin.
Derek nosed down his throat slowly, rubbing delicious stubble over Stiles' skin. Lips moved softly against his throat before they reached their target and latched on, making Stiles arch against Derek. "Ahh."
The pain of the bee stings was still there, but the feeling of pleasure was greater. Heat pooled low in his stomach, making him strain uncomfortably against his jeans.
Derek turned his head to spit out the venom, but his mouth was close to Stiles' ear again when he crooned suggestively: "You've got a hair trigger response."
Stiles tightened his fingers in Derek's hair. "I think I can be excused," he huffed indignantly, though he couldn't be mad.
Not when Derek chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to his sleep, whispering "I like it" before suddenly taking away his pain. Stiles sighed from the rush of endorphins, leaning a little more into their embrace. Derek held him for a minute, making sure all the pain was gone before untangling them.
"Come on," the Alpha said, keeping a hand on the back of Stiles' neck to steer him around. "Let's go see what the others are doing."
Stiles should really update that list of his. 'Death by heart attack because of sexually charged remarks from Derek' should be on there too.