FBI (For Basic Idiots)

My Door

“What do you bury when it’s alive and dig up when it’s dead?”

Stiles sighs as she kills the engine to Malia’s Mustang. She doesn’t know why she humours the nogitsune, but at least she can’t see him anymore, just still annoyingly hear his voice.

“A plant.” Stiles sarcastically scoffs out, “You're boring me now. Do better.” She’s then, hauling herself out of the car and up the stairwell of Derek’s apartment building.

“What do you answer even though it never questions you?”

Stiles huffs, is still annoyed, yet, still playing along (mainly for her own entertainment; for her own sanity... if she still has any left, that is...) “A phone.” She halts at the door for some witty comeback, only to be half disappointed. Though, she wishes it had stayed that way – when she lifts a hand to slide the door along, it’s already being opened for her.

And instead of seeing Derek’s handsome face, she sees her own smirking back at her as Void Stiles – the nogitsune – stands there. “And a door.” Void Stiles adds, dark amber orbs twinkling with awaiting chaos. “You are my door, Stiles.” He tells her, takes step closer so they’re standing inches apart with their eyes and everything else level.

Stiles stands her ground, glares back at him, because she knows exactly what he means by that. “I will never set you free again.”

“Yes. You will.” Void Stiles smirks slightly, tone taunting rather than demanding or even promising. “You destroyed the one thing that could have killed me; the nematon. And now, I’m already getting stronger by the night. I know you can feel it...” He trails off, smirk lingering as he lets his words linger in the air between them, sees the doubt in her eyes, no matter how brief and how well she instantly covers it. “Who do you think really opened the door between us?”

He taunts her some more, motions to Derek’s metal accordion front door, but Stiles knows that’s not the door he’s really talking about. And he’s right. It was her who let him in last time.

“I’m strong now. I’ll find a way to stop you, for good, this time.” Stiles promises.

Void Stiles chuckles, looks ecstatic as he says, “You already know that’s why I’ve chosen now to finally break free.” He leans forward, reaches up a hand to gently play with a few strands of her hair. “It’s not me you’re really afraid of anymore, is it? It’s yourself. Self, Stiles. My favourite kanji. The only one you can always rely on, no matter what.” His smirk twists into a sinister, but still highly gleeful grin when her gaze falters ever so slightly. “I don’t want you because you’re a spark, Stiles, I want you because you are Thee Spark. The True Alpha equivalent of your kind.. One spark that shines far brighter than the rest.. The one spark that ignites them all... And you know me, my dear...”

Stiles’ heart thuds hard, and not because he leans in to place a soft kiss to her cheek, but because of his words. She’s a f*****g monster magnet, which isn’t much better than being a monster to her.

Void Stiles pulls back just so that they’re staring right into one another’s eyes. “I’m still so very hungry. Still so... insatiable.” He grins, tells her, “With you, Stiles, I can set the entire universe on fire. Oh, it will be SO beautiful. I can’t wait to finally be with you, for good, this time.”

“No.” Stiles helplessly grits out, hopelessly glares back at him. “I won’t go back there. I’ll kill myself first.” And she really f*****g means that. She will NOT take a back seat in her own damn mind again; won't go back to that mental hell dungeon of darkness and eerie silence.

The nogitsune nods, shoots her a rather sympathetic smile, even rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Even I am not so cruel, Little Mischief.”

Stiles angrily shrugs him off. “Don’t YOU dare f*****g call me THAT! EVER!” Because how dare he use her mother’s favourite nickname for her?! “And the only other option is me watching you through my own eyes as you use my body to destroy innocent people, as well as all of the people I love most. Pass!!”

Void Stiles just smiles and tells her, “Too late.” He glances briefly over his shoulder at something, smirks and then, is turning back to face her with a mocking pout. “But I will let you play for a little while longer... though, only because it will sweeten the pot for me.”

“Stiles?”

Stiles hears Derek’s voice some small distance away.

The nogitsune grins, finally tells her, “Just don’t get too comfy... my dear... my door...”

“Stiles?”

Stiles blinks and then, the nogitsune is gone and Derek is standing there instead, and looking deeply concerned. “I’m OK.” She mumbles, almost on autopilot.

Derek lets out a soft scoff, shoots her a clearly disbelieving look. “You opened the door and then you just stood there and spaced out for a few minutes... I was worried.”

Stiles would smile and feel more giddy about him worrying over her, only – “I opened the door?” She already knew the answer, even though she thought the nogitsune was taunting her about that, too, but now, she needs the confirmation.

Derek looks confused, also, more concerned, but nods. It doesn’t help that he can feel her dread again.

Stiles nods, knows her smiles must look false, because it feels false and he still doesn’t look convinced in the slightest. “I was just.. daydreaming.. about your smooches.” She winces as she waits for his reaction, because she already knows how lame that sounded.

Derek, however, even though, he clearly still doesn’t believe her, smiles amusedly, slowly moves closer to her, lessens the stupid space between them. “While I would like to believe that, I’m pretty sure I don’t need to tell you that I know you’re lying.”

Stiles stares up at him as he hovers so warmly over her. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I actually did do that on the way over here and almost wrapped Malia’s car around a lamp post, sooo...”

“It doesn’t.” Derek shoots her a withering look.

Stiles shoots him a cheeky grin, can’t help teasing him with, “Aww, you worried about lil’ ol’ me, Derbear?”

(Oh, Logan must NEVER know that she’s finally called Derek that to his face or she will NEVER hear the end of it!)

Derek’s eyes narrow slightly.

Stiles’ grins slowly widens. “Y’know.. like.. ‘Care Bear’?” His eyes narrow more and more the closer he gets, until his face is just centimetres from her own, and her heart is thudding merely from their closeness.

“That’s worse than ‘Sourwolf.’” Derek mumbles, so close that he feels her breath (sweet from her insidious obsession with cherry Roll Ups) lightly tickling against his face.

When his hands lift and gently rest over her waist, Stiles takes that as a good enough hint; lifts her own hands and plants them flat against that lovely hard and broad chest of his. And good Lord, she’s thrilled to see him wearing (her favourite on him) that apple red Henley shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his wonderfully bulging arms.

Fuck her life, he’s going to be the death of her... if she doesn’t end up killing herself just to spite and stop the nogitsune, of course.

Stiles isn’t the shortest girl at 5’8, but Derek still has a good four inches over her. Stiles, too, isn’t adverse to dating people shorter than her, but Derek always makes her feel petite and slightly less gangly – which is ironic, considering how much of a flustered klutz she’s mostly always been around him... or in general.

“I like both.” Stiles tells him with a small, but genuine smile. “Because you can be a real grumpy old man. But underneath that, you’re a big softie.” She chuckles when he rolls his eyes, but she can see the corners of his lips tugging slightly. “You’re actually a lot less like Malia; your actual flesh and blood, and more like Scott than you realise.” She wrinkles her nose, thoughtfully adds, “Sometimes, it even makes me question if I’ve ever had a thing for Scott.” She grins back up at him again. “But then, I remember that he’s far more annoying than you, and also a lot less attractive in a I Would Climb Him Like A Tree way. He gives me more of the ‘Aww, Lemme Pinch His Cute Cheeks’ attractive vibe. Face cheeks! The cheeks.. on his face.. not his ass...”

Derek chuckles at that, seems deeply amused. “Would you climb me like a tree, Mieczyslaw?”

“Ugh!” Stiles groans, sends a playful slap to his chest, but is absolutely serious as she scolds him. “Yes, I would, and PLEASE never call me that.” She whines, practically begs.

“What? Your name?” Derek smirks (God, he misses their stupid banter; misses annoying her, because she makes it so easy; makes him feel likes he’s that cocky s**t of a pup back in high school again.)

Stiles shoots him a rather weak glare, because now, he’s leaning in and pressing his stupid smug s**t (sexy) smirk to her mouth. She pauses only for that fraction of a second it takes her to register that Derek Hale – long-term crush and (who is she kidding?) love of her life – is kissing her, AGAIN, and then, she’s moving her lips over his. Her hands lift from his chest, her fingers curling loosely over his cheeks, her palms cupping his deliciously stubbled chin.

Derek gives her waist a little squeeze, practically purrs back against her when she lets out a soft sigh. For a moment, as his hands slowly slide down over her ass, he thinks maybe he’s being too eager. That is, until she’s pressing her front firmly against his own and kissing him even more enthusiastically. He gives her ass a testing little squeeze, smiles into the kiss when she lets out the quietest of moans.

Stiles slides her hands into his hair, lightly scrapes her nails over his scalp just to hear him let out that low rumbling growling sound that vibrates through her mouth and she is able to feel down to her very marrow. He seems only to finally pull his lips from hers to give her some air before he’s shooting her a devilish smirk and leaning in again. He presses a few open mouthed kisses to her lips before he messily (eagerly) trails those same kisses across her cheek and down the side of her throat. And no, she really cannot help the loud moan that pours out of her mouth when she feels him gently gnawing at the crook of her neck.

Derek knows he’s already getting carried away, and while she’s reacting so f*****g perfectly to his every touch, in the back of his mind, he can still smell something off... and it’s not Stiles. But he’s too distracted by her to figure it out; so wrapped up in her that he doesn’t even care to figure it out. He slides his hands down to the backs of her thighs, and presses his lips back to hers (to suppress a loud groan) when she eagerly (climbs him like a tree) links her arms around the back of his neck and pulls herself up. Or tries to, anyway. He doesn’t let her get that far, can’t help showing off his strength – that cocky high school kid in him surfacing so easily around her again (the happy-go-lucky kid he used to be before the fire, the one he thought was dead and buried, for good – until he met Stiles.)

“Burning –“ Stiles mutters against his lips, wrinkles her nose, but is still half distracted while his lips are moving over hers.

“What?” Derek mutters back against her lips, brow creasing slightly, but he’s still very much distracted right now. One hand leaves her perky ass in favour of burying itself in her soft thick locks, the other still pressed over her ass cheek, still pressing her tightly against him.

When Stiles finally manages to pull her mouth from his, the wolf merely busies that pretty mouth of his with her neck again. “I –“ Her eyes flutter when he suckles gently over her pulse point, feels herself melt against him just that little bit more. That talented tongue and all of that hard muscle are just about the only things she can think about right now.

Derek feels a flicker of worry, and only then does he finally stop. He leans back enough to shoot her his own soft look of concern. “What’s wrong? Did I –“

“No.” Stiles would shoot anyone else a withering look, but considering she doesn’t actually know to what extent Kate truly f****d with his precious mind, she’s not willing to take any chances. So she’s quick to reassure him with a smile. “It’s not you, like, literally AT ALL.”

A small smirk tugs at the ends of Derek’s lips.

“I just...” Stiles glances slowly over his shoulder and arches a brow at the small plumes of dark smoke coming from the oven. She glances back at him, arches a brow, shoots him a peculiar look as she tells him, “I smell burning.”

As soon as her words register to his brain, his brain then hurries to alert his senses and sure enough, Derek’s nose fills with smoke and his eyes instantly widen. “s**t!” He hisses, is then quickly pulling away from her altogether (setting her gently back to her feet) and rushing over to the kitchen.

Stiles bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing, though, the amusement is still quite clear on her face as she watches him slide on those pink oven mitts (that Lydia was so kind enough to get him, and purposefully made a big deal about how she treasures each birthday gift Derek gets her, just so she can guilt him into not throwing the mitts away. Red really is an evil genius. Sometimes, it terrifies Stiles. But in the most awe-inspiring way.)

Derek lets out a stream of curses under his breath as he sets the burning tray down on the hob. He turns the oven off with a huff, sends a glare to slightly burnt food before turning to face her with what he knows is a pathetic sulking scowl. “I ruined the food.”

Stiles can’t help grinning, because she swears she sees the wolf inside of his pouting. And she knows enough about werewolves to know that this is more than just about the food. She holds off on the doggy jokes, shuffles over to take a look for herself. “Beef Wellington?” Her grin broadens, her brows raised in surprise.

Derek ignores his slightly heated cheeks as he tells her, “Yeah. I remember you telling me how much you loved it whenever your mom used to make it for you.”

“And I remember telling you that.. 7 years ago...” Stiles’ heart melts just a little more, if that’s at all possible, which, it totally is, especially with him goddamn blushing (when the hell does Derek Hale EVER blush? Let alone because of HER??) “And you remembered.” She smiles, because she didn’t think it was possibly for anybody to keep track of her verbal diarrhea (even she loses track herself sometimes.)

Derek nods, gives her a brief smile before he’s sulking again. “Sorry... We could go out to eat... if you want?”

Stiles chuckles, glances to the tray. “It’s not even that burnt.” She tells him, because he made all this effort, and now, she feels guilty. “We can just scrape the burnt layer off and we’re golden.”

“You sure?” Derek doesn’t look all that convinced, but Stiles can see he’s trying not to smile at her efforts to reassure him.

Stiles nods, grins up at him. “I’m sure.”

“OK.” Derek grins, perks up considerably, slips a hand into hers. He tugs her gently over to the large window where the crescent moon shines through, lighting up the small round breakfast table and flooding the entire apartment. “Is it too dark with candles? I can never tell.”

Stiles smiles, softly shakes her head, and tells him, “Everything’s perfect.”

Derek shoots her a rather fervid look that makes Stiles’ breath catch in the back of her throat. “Yeah.” He nods, slowly leans in a presses a sweet kiss to her lips before mumbling against them, “It is.”

Stiles enjoys the giddy feeling, but also, she’s still Stiles, and so, she can’t help playfully wrinkle her nose and scold him. “You are so cheesy, Derbear.”

Derek narrows his eyes slightly. “I told you; ‘Sourwolf’ is OK, but I refuse to ever answer to... that.”

Stiles smirks, leans in for another kiss, but not before telling him, “We’ll see, Derbear...”