#basically i headcanon derek wouldn't give stiles the bite without his consent no matter the circumstance

[spaceprincessem]

Hale Appreciation Week Prompt: Hale Headcanons @haleweek​

Okay, so just a few lil headcanons for Derek and Peter. See if you can figure out what they are :) (featuring sterek cause of course it does) 

Cause you're a hard soul to save {With an ocean in my way}

“Isaac,” Malia growled, finger’s digging into the wood of the table sitting between them, “you need to vote.”

“No,” Isaac snarled in return, arms across his chest, “I’m not taking part in any of this.”

Malia’s biting retort died on her lips as Derek flashed her a warning look. She swallowed hard, jaw clenching as she rocked back on her heels, still glaring at the curly headed boy. 

“Since Isaac is abstaining,” Lydia cut through the tension, “that leaves Peter and Derek.”

“Why does Peter get a vote?” Scott asked, wearily looking at the older man who was casually sitting on the spiral staircase looking rather at ease.

“Like it or not,” Peter grinned, all teeth, “I am part of this pack.”

“Barely,” Isaac murmured, before immediately going quiet as Malia fixed him with a murderous glare.

“So,” Lydia clicked her tongue impatiently, “what do you think, Peter?”

“The bite is a gift,” Peter shrugged nonchalantly, “and apparently our last hope.”

Kira ran a soothing hand over Scott’s back as he deflated, while Cora and Malia exchanged a small look of triumph. Lydia’s jaw was clenched, but she quickly rolled her shoulders, gaze moving towards Derek. The rest of the pack’s eyes followed. The steely silence made it feel like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Derek’s palms were pressed against the table, leaning his weight forward, head dipped down as his claws embedded themselves into the wood. They could all hear it. The rapid pounding of his heart. The stench of doubt and fear was so heavy it felt like they were drowning in it. 

“No,” Derek finally said, the answer hanging in the air like a death sentence, “I’m not giving Stiles the bite.”

A beat of silence. A sigh of relief and a disbelieving uproar.

“Get out,” Derek growled, stopping the buzzing arguments flying across the room like venom. When no one moved he pinned them with a commanding, crimson look, “I said get out.”

The pack slowly dispersed around him. Scott was the only one brave enough to reach out, a hand on Derek’s shoulder, a small, but sad smile curling against his lips, “Thank you, I know it’s the right decision.”

Derek gave a curt nod in return. He was surprised to see Peter still sitting on the staircase long after the others had gone. The look of disappointment etched in his uncle’s face made him feel inexplicably angry. Peter always had a knack for reducing him to a fifteen year old boy who didn’t know how to control his shift during the full moon.

“What?” He chewed out when Peter remained quiet.

“I didn’t say anything,” Peter replied, but he could hear the bitter bite beneath his uncle's words, the desire to start a fight.

“I’m not giving Stiles the bite,” Derek said again. He suddenly felt the need to defend himself as his uncle chuckled darkly.

“I heard you the first time, nephew,” Peter sneered.

“You don’t agree with my decision,” Derek pointed out flatly.

“Well, clearly,” Peter said as he got to his feet, “as I voted yes.” He sighed, brushing past Derek to head into the kitchen, “But you are the alpha, so I don’t think it matters what the rest of us wanted.” 

Derek could hear the older man clinking through the glasses, the sound of liquid sloshing against emptiness before a bottle was carefully placed on the counter. Derek allowed his gaze to find his uncle leaning against the counter, slowly sipping from his nearly full glass.

“It was cute to let them think this was a democracy, though.” Peter added after a moment, swirling a few ice cubes into his drink.

“Stiles doesn’t want the bite,” Derek explained, that primal urge for someone to understand, “he never has.”

“You think your decision is about Stiles?” Peter asked, smiling meanly, “Here I thought it was about you.”

“Of course it’s about Stiles,” Derek huffed furiously, “you think he would be grateful if he woke up and was su—”

“Well,” Peter cut in, “it’s better than never waking up at all, isn’t it?”

Derek remained silent. But his face said it all.

“He’s been in this coma for what, two weeks now?” Peter asked as he sat his glass down, moving towards Derek with calculated steps, “You still think he’s going to magically wake up by some divine intervention?”

“I am not taking that choice away from him.” Derek argued, his chest heaving as he worked to keep himself calm.

“Are you scared he’s going to hate you if you do?” Peter asked, inching closer. “Or scared he won’t survive like Paige?”

“Why do you care so much?” Derek asked, feeling like he’d been thrown off balance.

“I’m just trying to understand why you wouldn’t do everything to save the person you love,” Peter replied simply, but there was an undercurrent of harshness to his tone.

“I am doing everything to save him!” Derek snapped, teeth bared and eyes flashing dangerously. “You and I both know Stiles wouldn’t want the bite to save him.”

There was heated silence between the Hales. Ice blue boring into grey-green. 

“Stop making excuses, Derek.” Peter said, breathing out harshly through his nose, “It’s the only way to—”

“My answer is final,” Derek growled before turning on his heel to head back to the hospital.

“So,” Peter called at his retreating back, voice trembling with anger and saturated in sorrow, “you’re just going to let the last piece of Claudia Stilinski die in this god forsaken town?”

Derek froze. The stench of love lost burned hotly in his lungs. He swallowed down the sour taste of bile as he turned to face his uncle again. “Is that what this is about?” He asked quietly, “Preserving the only thing left of Claudia Stilinski?”

“You know it’s more than that,” Peter bit back.

“Is that why you offered Stiles the bite all those years ago?” Derek felt exhausted, like the revelation took more out of him than he could ever care to admit. “Because you took one look at him and saw someone that was never yours?”

“Talia could have saved her,” Peter’s voice was small now, his eyes far off in the distance, “but we can’t always get what we want.” His eyes were hard on Derek’s face now, a sneer pulling his lips up cruelly, “So, yeah, I looked into those amber eyes and saw the one person I would have done anything for.” He exhaled deeply, “Stiles is all that’s left of Claudia.”

“Stiles is his own person,” Derek replied softly, “and he should get to choose. You wanted to save Claudia by giving her the bite, but I’m going to save Stiles by keeping him human.”

“I wonder which version of losing him is going to hurt more,” Peter said with a vindictive smile, but Derek could see that his eyes were sad. 

Derek didn’t say anything as he turned to leave Peter alone in the loft.

-

“Miss me, Sourwolf?” Stiles slurred, his half lidded eyes peeking up at the exhausted wolf with a mix of fondness and concern.

“More than you know,” Derek replied, threading his fingers through the cold, pale ones, before bringing them to his lips to gently kiss.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Stiles hummed, closing his eyes, until Derek’s too tight grip made him blink them open again.

“Sorry,” Derek replied sheepishly, “I just missed the color of your eyes.”

Stiles smiled, “You mean the most boring shade of brown?”

Derek shook his head, not knowing how he could explain that Stiles’ eyes reminded him of bottle honey. Warm and sticky sweet. Of coffee with too much cream or tiger’s eye gleaming in the sunlight. How could Derek describe that Stiles’ eyes were the shade of the earth beneath his feet when he ran through the preserve under the light of the full moon? When he catches Peter watching them from the doorway, face soft and shoulders sagging in relief he wonders if he could ever tell Stiles that the beautiful shade of amber was a window to a future that was stolen much too soon.

“Not to me,” Derek just says instead, leaning up to kiss him, “not to me.”