Black Love [SUPERWOLF]

Affairs Without Much Care

[SUPERNATURAL; Beacon Hills, Motel]

Dean misses his aching temples, though, he knew attempts to prevent the oncoming migraine were fatal. Dean's eyes sting with feelings of mixed emotions; anger, frustration, worry. It had been four three days now since they'd seen of Stiles, and as time stretched Dean grew more and more worried that perhaps Stiles wasn't awake or perhaps he was awake, and simply wanted nothing to do with he and Sam-Dean couldn't tell which one worried him more.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Sam-carrying two newly bought coffees-closed the door, noting the way his brothers shoulders hunched forward with the expression of disappointment so vivid on his brothers face, it almost made Sam wince. "Is this about Stiles?" he asked slowly, though, he already knew the conclusion.

"The Stilinski issue." Dean confirmed, straightening his back from where he hunched on the bed. "Melissa called me early this morning; he has no other family, Stiles. No blood family, at least."

"Except us."

"Except us," Dean nodded. "Sam, she... She wants us to take full custody of him, if we don't, he'll end up in Foster Care-he's barely reached seventeen, how are we supposed to just... To just leave him?"

"You want to leave him?" Sam asked, watching his brother carefully.

"Sam," Dean nearly snapped, looking up at his brother for the first time since he'd entered the room, "how are we supposed to take care of a kid with what we do? We can barely take care of ourselves."

"We'll figure something out, okay? We always do."

"I friggin' hope so."

Dean was startled by his phone ringing, jumping into a near sitting position. He didn't know what he expected, but he grabbed with his hand and answered just as it reached its second ring. "Hello?"

"This is, uh, Stiles."

Dean let his mouth sag for a second, unsure of what to say. "Stiles." Dean sounded more energetic now, and he hadn't realized that he was hoping it would have been his brother calling until he felt his name on his tongue. "Your okay."

"I wouldn't exactly say okay, considering the circumstances." Even from the other line, Dean could head the exhaustion in his voice. "Can we talk?"

"Uh, sure. Over the phone?"

"No, don't be stupid. Do you, um, know where my house is?"

"Melissa sent Sam and I the address."

"Come to my house; at dinner. Don't be late, or I'll let you starve outside."

"Umm... okay."

[Teen Wolf; Stiles' Home]

He wasn't thinking about it; not really.

The key fumbled in his hand as Stiles, almost desperately, unlocked the door and bolted inside the home, slamming the door behind him. He bolted up the stairs as if a rabid wolf were chasing him, cornering him into his bedroom; but all that followed him was his shadow. For a moment, he wondered if his Father could hear him from the Morgue as he screamed. The single cry, led to echos of his own voice-haunting him.

His fist struck the nearest wall. Again, and again, and again.

"You once told me violence isn't the answer."

Stiles jumped, startled being an understatment, and he hastily flipped on the light to find the infamous, Derek Hale, seated at Stiles' desk as though it were his own. "Yeah, well, clearly I don't know as much as I thought I did."

Derek tapped his fingers idily on Stiles' desk, his pale eyes regarding Stiles' with grief-not for the sheriff, nor himself, but for Stiles.

Stiles winced as he looked at his wall once as white as an angels wings, now stained in blood. His blood. "Do you think it'll stain?"

"Does it matter?"

Stiles shrugged, "Nah." he admitted, carelessly. "Not really." Stiles fell, gracelessly, onto his bed-the dry, dying skin of his thumb, stroking the blood that still remained. He hadnt noticed Derek had moved from his seat, nor had he noticed Derek, kneeling before him; but he had noticed Derek when he took his hand in his.

He noticed the veins turned black.

"Derek, don't," Stiles protested, though his voice held little fight in him.

Derek, pulling away from Stiles-slolwy-barely managing to make out the words: Why won't you let me help you?

Stiles allowed his hand to fall from Derek's-though reluctant-and watched the werewolf carefully; unsure of what to say. Derek remained silent too, however, waiting for a answer Stiles would never grant. "I love you, Stiles, don't you get that?"

"I- I do, Derek."

"Do you?" though his words were harsh, his voice was soft and kind; welcoming, even.

"I do, Derek." Stiles insists again; his heartbeat neutral.

"Then why didn't you tell me you were coming here?" Stiles raised his lips to protest, but any fight in him died when he realized that no matter what he said, Derek would detect the lie.

"This is my house." Stiles finally brought himself to say; not a lie, but not a true answer. "Do I need permission to go to my own home?"

"You know that's not what I mean, Stiles." Derek rose from the ground, his fists clenched. Stiles knew Derek was doing his best to maintain self control, but they could only go so far before Derek's sanity broke. "Did you come here to hurt yourself?"

"What? No!"

"Then why, Stiles?" he pressed further, watching as his mate twisted in Derek's line of sight. "Who were you on the phone with?" he finally brought himself to ask, watching intently as the humans shoulders tensed. "No one."

"Liar."

"Dammit, Derek!" Stiles turne to face Derek, standing-his arms extended in exasperation. "Can you for once, just... Let it be?"

"I can't Stiles."

"Why not?" he seethed, his pulse increasing with each breath he took.

"Because this is what you do. Again and again, I try to help you-to understand you, but no matter what I do you won't let me in! Maybe you do love me, but do you trust me?"

"That- That's the same thing!"

"No, it's not! Because when you say you love me, I can hear the truth. But when I ask if you trust me, I hear nothing!"

"That's rich, coming from the man who did nothing but shove me into walls when we first met."

"That's when I didn't know you," Derek defended. "That was before I learned to trust you, to love you! Jesus, I tried to take your pain just a second ago but you wouldn't let me. How is that trust?"

"That wasn't your pain to take."

Derek hesitated for a moment too long. "What?"

"I have nothing Derek. No secrets, no lies, no parents." As the words drifted into the air between them, Stiles could feel the familiar pain, of his heart, breaking slowly. "I know it's stupid, but this... this pain, I have, is all I have."

"You have me. Dont you know that?"

The bedroom door opened.