#don't reward lazy hate-filled assholes

[when-they-write-stuff]

okay you seem really nice lol, but idk if you take random prompts and its fine if you don't but i've really been feeling a "they get tied together and derek is in the back with stiles pressed against him omg-" fic ever since i saw a fan art like that for one of my other otp's,, so like if you could??? thatd be great

Oh heck yeah, I’m always down for a random prompt! And oh my gosh, this one is absolutely fantastic.

- -

Stiles thought this sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.

Two people get tied together back to back— an Alpha werewolf and the local token human— and one tries to get loose and accidentally ends up in a compromising position. What happens then? Absolutely nothing good for the innocent teenager that said Alpha werewolf is currently pressed up against.

Stiles hated everything sometimes.

It started when Stiles had been used as bait for the newest threat of Beacon Hills. He thought hunters were a little tiring, especially because they’d just come off of a bloodthirsty witch and that had been the ride of a lifetime. So when Jackson offered him up to be the hook, line, and sinker, he didn’t even try to argue. Their pack could handle a few hunters, after all.

Stiles had been wrong before.

He decided later, with a bloody nose and black eye as he lied tied up on the cold floor, that he hated everything. Hunters, werewolves, all the jazz. Stiles just wanted a nap and then maybe some curly fries.

After this, someone was buying him curly fries.

Stiles tried not to wince as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, trying to draw into himself as much as he could. But the hands bound behind his back didn’t help. Nor did that fact that his entire body screamed in pain every time he dared to move an inch.

The hunter knelt down in front of him and Stiles got an eyeful of brown teeth.

“We’ll ask you one more time, boy. Where is the Hale-McCall pack?”

“Dude,” Stiles said, trying to roll away. “Breath freshener, whitening toothpaste, or something. Please invest.”

Stiles’s words were rewarded with a kick to the ribs, which he really should have expected. That didn’t change the fact that his breaths leaped from his lungs, though, or how he curled in on himself even more, choking out a small cry of pain.

Brown-teeth sneered down at him. “Wanna try that again?”

“I thought you were only asking me one more time.”

Stiles got another kick, harder this time. He tried to bite back his noise of pain but it came out anyway, more of a whine than a cry through gritted teeth. Laughter rolled around the room and Stiles gasped welty into the floor, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Come on boy,” the hunter said, crouching down again. “Is the pain really worth protecting a bunch of mutts? Tell us where we can find the Hale-McCall pack and we’ll let you go.”

“Minty gum works too,” Stiles said in a gasp. “With the stench at least, if you’re too lazy to brush.”

“Mouthy little shit—”

Before the hunter could strike him again, a loud roar filled the air. Stiles’s heart leaped and he tried to look up, only to groan and curl back in on himself. His everything hurt and honestly, he was surprised he was still conscious right now.

He heard… a growl. A single growl. Nothing else, no resounding howls or thankful sounds of rescue. Stiles blinked a few times as a gunshot filled the air followed by the sound of cheers.

Stiles’s heart plummeted. In five seconds, someone was being tossed next to him and he didn’t have to look long to realize who it was.

Stiles swallowed the taste of blood in his mouth. Derek laid next to him, a glowing bullet in his shoulder while his chest rose and fell in pants. Slowly, despite himself, Stiles raised a brow.

“Hey there, Sourwolf. You come to save me?”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“I’m feeling very good about this entire situation right now. Thanks a ton.”

“Stiles.”

There was a footstep right behind Stiles’s head. He winced and cursed as brown-teeth leaned down again, glancing between them. Derek snarled weakly and Stiles only rolled his eyes.

“Well,” the man said. “The Hale Alpha and the pack human?”

“I never get a cool title,” Stiles grumbled. Derek gave him a red-eyed look, which Stiles pointedly ignored. He was aware of a hand on his arm, yanking him up, and his entire body screamed in pain at the sudden movement.

He didn’t mean to make a noise, but it just slipped out. Derek snarled again and the man laughed, dragging Stiles to his feet. But he didn’t make it all the way before his world was dipping in and out of darkness. Stiles tried to stay conscious— he really did.

But it was a losing battle from the start.

By the time Derek was trying to rise to his feet, only to get kicked back down again, Stiles had given into the black. He heard the man call his name, was aware of the floor coming again, too fast this time. And then… nothing.

Nothing.

Stiles thought that right now, he liked it better that way.

-

So where was he? Oh yeah, the beginning of a bad joke.

Stiles woke up with his hands bound behind his back. The first thing he thought was that his head pounded. The second was more along the lines of how hot he was— and not just to the eyes. Stiles felt like he was being pressed against a space heater. 

His third realization was that he basically was.

“Stiles,” Derek said, shifting carefully. “Are you awake?”

“No,” Stiles whined. “Or at least, I don’t want to be. Knock me back out again, please.”

The man sighed. 

Glancing around, Stiles realized they were alone. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, attempting to shift in his bonds only to groan. The pain pounded through his head and rippled all the way down the rest of him, like a full body ache he couldn’t escape.

Until Derek caught his hand, that was. Then slowly, some of the pain ebbed away.

“Okay,” Stiles said tiredly. “What now?”

“Someone will find us.”

“Someone like Scott? Who occasionally gets lost trying to find his own shadow?”

“Someone like Lydia,” Derek said. “Or Boyd.”

“Yay for Lydia and Boyd.”

“Would you rather be stuck alone in this?”

Stiles thought about that for a moment. Derek growled at his silence and Stiles couldn’t help smirking a little, feeling much better now that the man was taking some of his pain. But then Derek pulled away and Stiles whined again.

“Hey, no, dude, put your hand back on mine. I hurt!”

“I have a bullet in my shoulder, Stiles.”

Oh yeah. That was a thing too.

“Well,” Stiles said, refusing to be cowed. “That’s usually what happens when you come bursting into a hunter’s safehouse alone. What the hell is even with that anyway? Why didn’t you bring the rest of the pack?”

“I didn’t think I’d need them.”

“You didn’t— oh my god, Derek, I hate your Alpha ego sometimes.”

Derek only huffed. Stiles really hated him.

“Fine, is there anything you can do? These are ropes, have you tried like, chewing your way out of them or something?”

He was pretty sure the man tried to shoot a glare over his shoulder. “Wolfsbane infused, Stiles.”

“Well, that’s just fantastic.”

“Your comments aren’t helping.”

“Should I start screaming for help instead? I mean, that might end up attracting the hunters, but I can scream pretty loud when I want to. The pack might hear if we’re lucky.”

“No, Stiles,” Derek said, sounding pained. Stiles sighed.

“Fine, but neither of us are dying here. Not you and your stupid shoulder wound or me and my stupid everywhere else wounds.”

Derek tensed against him. “Are they bad?”

“They?”

“Your injuries, Stiles.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, shifting a little bit. “Okay, no not really. Just a bruise or two, a black eye and a split lip. I think brown-teeth might have cracked a rib but—”

“Brown teeth?”

Stiles grinned, despite himself. “Am I wrong though?”

Derek huffed.

“Okay,” Stiles said. “What if one of us managed to wiggle out of the ropes. I mean, I could probably do it. I’m small and wiggly and—”

“And you have a cracked rib.”

“I should’ve known not to tell you about that.”

Derek sighed. Stiles squeaked in surprised as the man was suddenly moving, and then the ropes across his chest were twisting and moving along with Derek’s attempts to break free. In a matter of moments, Stiles realized the man was in a whole new position, but it was definitely not free.

“Derek,” he said, blinking at the opposite wall. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

The man didn’t answer. Stiles glanced to each side and nodded as he spotted the large legs straddling him. Because yeah, this was just his luck. And things couldn’t get any better.

“I swear to god,” he said, wishing Derek could see the venomous look currently on his face. “The next time you don’t let me do the wiggling because of a ‘cracked rib’, please remember that things like this happen.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“I’m just saying,” Stiles said. “This right now? This should count as a cruel and unusual punishment.”

“I could make it cruel and unusual.”

“Please don’t say things like that when certain parts of you are literally pressed against certain parts of me.”

“Stiles.”

“What, Sourwolf, are you going to tell me to shut up again? Because I’ll have you know I’ve had just about enough of that and you and— Derek.”

The man didn’t answer, but he’d gone rigid pressed up against Stiles’s back. Stiles closed his eyes for a long moment and took a deep breath, trying to calm his sudden rapidly pounding heart. It didn’t help much.

“Derek,” he said, voice cracking. “Stop that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Some part of you is doing something.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“Why, is me talking a turn on? Oh my god, me talking is totally a turn on. Derek! Stop that!”

“I’m not doing anything,” the man snarled, breaths hot against his ear. And suddenly, Stiles’s heart was pounding for a whole new reason. This was so totally not fair.

“You are doing everything right now, asshole.”

“Then stop talking!”

“I always lived under the impression that my talking was a boner-killer, not the magic spell that brings one to life!”

Silence fell over the warehouse. Stiles’s face was red and hot and he forced himself not to shift, trying to relax against Derek’s chest instead. But then Derek made a small noise at the back of his throat and Stiles realized that wasn’t an option either.

“Okay,” he said softly. “How did I never know this was possible until we were literally sitting on death’s door?”

“I hate you.”

“Clearly, not all of you does.”

“Stiles, I swear to god—”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles said. “We don’t know how much longer we have until the hunters come back. Now, as terrified as I am that they come to kill us, I’m even more terrified of being caught in this position right now. So can we please try to figure out how to get out of these ropes?”

Derek didn’t answer for a moment. Then the man sighed. “I can’t break them, but maybe you can.”

“Maybe I can? How.”

“I don’t know, Stiles, use your teeth or something.”

“You want me to bend over,” Stiles said, his heart thudding against his chest even harder. “And attempt to chew through the ropes.”

Once more, Derek was silent. Stiles scoffed.

“I thought so.”

“So you’d rather we just wait here to die?”

“I’d rather we not be in the position at all, Sourwolf!”

“Oh, it’s that bad, is it?”

Stiles clenched his jaw and didn’t answer. He glared at the wall for a long moment before glancing down at the ropes circling his chest. He supposed he could try. After all, what dignity did he really have left?

“Okay,” he said quietly. “If I try this—”

“You don’t have to, Stiles.”

“I’d rather get out of here alive than dead, Sourwolf.”

Derek sighed, breaths warm on the back of Stiles’s neck. He still shivered, despite himself, and then tensed even more when he heard the man murmur a quiet “sorry”.

“Uh, dude? What for?”

“I don’t,” Derek said, and then cursed. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Stiles said intelligently. He blinked a few times before it really sunk in. “Oh. I mean, dude, I’m a little hot right now. You radiate warmth like a space heater, you know that? And the ropes are rubbing a little uncomfortably across my chest—”

“Stiles.”

“Okay,” Stiles said quietly. “You’re not making me uncomfortable. I just… didn’t realize?”

“Realize what.”

“That clearly, dude, you’re all about this hot bod.”

Derek’s sigh was one-hundred percent pained. But Stiles grinned a little bit to himself, wishing he could meet the man’s gaze. He startled as Derek rested his chin on Stiles’s shoulder and the man’s lips brushed against the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly. “Get us out of these ropes.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles squeaked. “Right away.”

Except, before he could even do anything, the door across the warehouse burst open. Stiles startled so hard, he spilled sideways. Faintly, he heard Derek shout his name, blinked as the world started to tip, and then they were both crashing hard against the floor, the impact making Stiles feeling like he’d cracked another two ribs or so.

“Oh,” Stiles said, voice cracking. “Ouch.”

“Dammit, Stiles.”

The sound of laughter filled the air as a couple pairs of footsteps approached. Stiles felt his face go hot and fixed his gaze on the floor, even as brown-teeth stood over him.

“Trying to go somewhere, boy?”

“No,” Stiles said. “Just, uh, hanging out. You know? Having a hell of a time right now.”

“You amuse me. I might kill you last.”

“... Is there any way I can dissuade you from killing me at all?”

The man chuckled and grabbed Stiles by the hair, starting to tilt his head upward. But suddenly there was a bang, a crash, and then a series of howls that struck the air.

Stiles had never felt so relieved.

Brown-teeth let his head fall back down and Stiles grunted in pain. But he’d take the stars flashing before his vision if it came with a rescue. Derek shifted against his back and Stiles felt warm breaths against his skin again.

He tensed as someone moved around the room toward them. Stiles snarled at the back of his throat as a shadow fell over them again but then Erica laughed and Stiles went silent.

He turned his head upward, blinking at the beta. She was smirking from ear to ear, eyes flicking from Stiles, to Derek, and then back.

“Well, it looks like you two got in a messy situation.”

“Erica,” Stiles groaned. “Just get us out.” 

“Hm,” she said, glancing at the ropes. “That’s wolfsbane. Have you tried using your teeth?”

Derek growled, but the beta only smirked wider. Stiles had to remind himself that murder was illegal and he was the Sheriff’s son.

Still, relief crashed over him like no other when Allison came running across the room. Stiles had never been so happy to see another pack human in his entire life.

Allison glanced over them, shared an amused look with Erica, and then dropped down, slicing through the ropes. Stiles slumped forward, wincing a little as the extra weight was put onto his rib cage. In a moment, Scott was moving across the room toward him, but Stiles waved a hand through the air, gesturing toward Derek.

“He’s the one with a wolfsbane bullet embedded in his shoulder.”

“No,” Derek growled. “He’s got a cracked rib.”

“Two now, I think,” Stiles said in a groan. “But that won’t kill me, asshole. Stop trying to be heroic.”

“You stop—”

“Okay,” Boyd said, cutting in. “There are more of us than you. Derek, do you need Deaton?”

“I need a bullet. And Stiles needs a hospital.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “I hate you so much sometimes.”

“Lie.”

“Shut up.”

“Um, alright,” Scott said. “We’re going to do one more sweep of the warehouse. You two… figure this out?”

Stiles gave his best friend a withering look but Scott only smiled apologetically and backed away. As the rest of the betas followed, Stiles turned the look toward Derek. But at the man’s sweeping gaze over him, with concern in his eyes, any and all irritation melted.

“So,” Stiles said. Derek rolled his eyes, shifting a little with a grunt. 

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“What, are we just never going to talk about this again?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Derek mumbled. Stiles looked at him for a long moment before cursing everything. Why was Derek always so difficult?

A spastic teenager and an emotionally constipated werewolf try to admit their feelings. Sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.

“Derek,” he said softly. “You don’t make me uncomfortable.”

The man eyed him dubiously. Still rolled his eyes.

“Okay, but not in a bad way. Only like, when I’m trying not to get an inappropriate boner during shirtless trainings, or when you give the betas red-eyed looks, or when—”

“Stiles.”

Stiles frowned. “The point is, I’m—”

“A teenager.”

“Eighteen.”

“Who can’t control himself, but I should be able to—”

“Derek, shut up.”

Derek gave him a sour look. Pushing himself up with a grunt, Stiles leaned forward and cupped the man’s chin, studying his face. 

“Is this control?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“This,” Stiles said. “Is control. And this,”  he leaned closer, touching his lips to the man’s forehead, “is proof that maybe I would like to lose it sometimes, but in every good way possible—”

Derek cut him off by turning his face upward and catching his lips. Stiles grinned and hummed his approval, making Derek growl. 

They were cut off by clapping behind them. Erica looked smug, the other betas looked uncomfortable, and Scott just looked a little confused. Derek glared but Erica only grinned wider.

“Too bad all the hunters are dead. I totally would have thanked them.”

“Erica.”

“I mean all that unsolved sexual tension—”

“Erica.”

But Stiles only grinned back at her. Because a werewolf and a human get tied together; sounds like the start to a bad joke. That’s what he thought about three hours ago, at least.

The punchline though? Stiles supposed it was satisfactory in the end.

To say the least.

- -

I never realized how much I wanted to write this prompt until now. I had so much fun with it! You’re fantastic, nonnie, I hope I did it justice!

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer