Teen Wolf: Stiles Says Enough

AN: Don't own it. I read a story that had Stiles hitting Derek with a rolled up newspaper and the next day this was rolling around in my head. I can't remember the name of the story or the author but if you recognize it, this ficlet is dedicated to you. You may take all the credit for this lovely little story. AKA – this is all your fault.

(AH-ROOOO)

He's had it! Seriously, he is done with all the pushing, shoving into walls, growling, and flashing of the lava red eyes. He is DONE and it stops today. Stiles pulled his jeep up to the Hale house prepared. He spent the last two nights pouring over his research and collecting the necessary tools. Exiting the jeep, head held high, Stiles entered the Hale house ready for bear….well wolf. No more letting himself be the pack chew toy. It would all stop today.

The pack meeting started out with the usual gross violation of PDA rules by Allison and Scott, a haughty glare from Lydia, and the general smirky-ness of the newest, look at me, I'm a werewolf, pack mates. Stiles took his usual seat in the recliner and was immediately removed from the spot by Derek, which completed his "welcome to the Hale house, don't make me kill you" ritual.

Sighing, Stiles took a seat on the couch. The next millennium of time was taken up with talks of training, dealing with hunters, training, make good grades or I will eat you, and more training. Good stuff, Stiles thought with a yawn.

Maybe the yawn was excessive, Stiles' brain gibbered at him from his (becoming usual) position, pinned against the wall. "Am I boring you with my ideas on how to keep this pack and all its members, even the annoying human ones alive?" Derek growled. Wall shoving, check. Growling, check. Lava colored eyes, check and check. But this time Stiles came prepared. No more impersonations of decorative wall hangings for him.

Using all his strength, Stiles pushed Derek away. Twisting out of his grasp and reach, he grabbed the small bottle from his jacket pocket. Aiming, he pulled the small pump action trigger. "Bad Wolf", he growled (the dog training guide said to use a firm and commanding voice). "Down!" The liquid from the spray bottle hit Derek squarely between his eyes.

The entire room froze. Not a sound, not a breath. Wow, Stiles thought, I've broken the space / time continuum. I am the lord of time, master of space, oh crap! He is going to kill me.

Derek's eyes went alpha red. Scott and Isaac jumped to their feet, throwing themselves between their alpha and their Stiles. Scott is really making some best friend points today, Stiles contemplated as the chaos erupted around him. Self preservation suddenly kicked in and Stiles was on the move. Leading with his head, literally, he spun in a compete circle, body twisting like a corkscrew.

Left, right, killer wolf, door, right, killer wolf, door! Oh, a door, and like a clumsy, mis – aimed shot, Stiles was flying down the porch. Seconds later, the door slammed shut behind him with the added force of a body being thrown against it. "Derek, you can't kill him" and "It's just Stiles, you know he's an idiot. You can't kill someone for having a terminal case of stupidity", echoed out of the house.

Stiles stumbled to a halt in front of his jeep. He clawed the door open and leaped inside. " Keys, keys, keys," he huffed as he checked his pockets. Yep, no keys. He remembered dropping them on the side table as he walked in earlier. A quick glance at the house that seemed to shake from the internal werewolf struggle within, firmly dashed all ideas of returning for his keys.

Lovely day for a jog, his brain babbled at him as he made his way down the drive. His only regret was that he did not snap a picture. Derek's face had been….awesome! It was a memory he would keep for the rest of his life.

However long that lasted.

End

AN: Okay… this is it, but in my mind Derek catches him and they have that really yummy angry sex against a tree. Followed by the "I never meant to hurt you", tender, brain blowing make up sex. And at some point Stiles says "so there is a fine line between love and blind, murderous rage". A deep, growly reply of, "Shut up Stiles".

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