Inspired by the Tv show of the same name.
This is the story of 9 high school students from around the country, who have been sent to Beacon of Hope, a boarding school for 'at risk' teens. They each have a past as well as closely guarded secrets and...
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Derek had so many thoughts racing through his head that he honestly didn't catch a single word of what Harris was saying during class. But school was over for the day and now he could escape to his dorm and properly think. It was a nice and sunny day, so chances were that no one else would disturb him, too.
He moved so quickly after class that Derek assumed at the very least he'd be the first to occupy the dorm room and perhaps his mood would ward off the others if it came to that. He threw open the cabin door with every intention of collapsing on his bed to sort through his thoughts, but the image that met his eyes froze him in place, instead.
Stiles was sprawled out on top of his bed with one arm flung haphazardly off the edge and his face buried deep into the comforter that laid beneath him. He hadn't even managed to get under the thing! Those damn pants clung to him and Derek found his eyes drawn to the swell of his ass. The jacket must have been returned to its owner, because the tank top he wore had ridden up just enough to leave a strip of skin exposed. Two little back-dimples stared tantalizingly at him.
As soon as Derek could recover from the unexpected sight, he realized that Stiles was still wearing his shoes. He must have been exhausted! Derek looked behind himself, half expecting someone else to come interrupt his self-appointed brooding time. When the yard was clear of students returning to their dorms, he closed the door quietly.
Very carefully so as to not wake the sleeping teen, Derek started to untie and remove Stiles' sneakers. He had managed the first one without issue but Stiles stirred a little once Derek grabbed the second. He paused, hands still on the laces, as Stiles rolled over onto his side.
Derek took in his face. The black marks from his eyes had now spread to his cheek bones leaving the rest of his skin a deathly pale shade. His hair was a mess, which was normal but now it appeared a little too greasy. His bottom lip, while blood free, was definitely bigger than he remembered, and that coupled with the purplish-yellow bruise on his jaw meant that Stiles had indeed been in a fight. Was it something that had happened in prison? Derek was supposed to be mad at him for leaving! But it was difficult to feel anything aside from sympathy for that face.
Assured that Stiles was still asleep, Derek continued untangling the knot on the remaining shoe. The new angle was a little easier to work with and a moment later he was sliding it off, when Stiles stirred again. This time the sleeping boy pulled his legs up, forming the fetal position.
"Please stop," Stiles murmured.
Derek immediately did as he was asked. He had no choice since Stiles slid his foot up, shoe half hanging off of it, when he bent his knees. Derek was just about to reach for the shoe regardless, as it was barely even on him now, when Stiles spoke again.
