Banshee (Teen Wolf FanFiction: Derek Hale)

Chapter Eight: Something

I roll onto my side and nestle my head further into my pillow. My sleep induced mind doesn’t realize that the object under my head isn’t as soft as my pillow or as fluffy. Still, I cuddle into it. I wrap my arms around it and pull it close to me. It isn’t until I’ve entangled my legs around another pair of legs that I finally open my eyes.

To say Derek is amused is an understatement. His dark eyebrows have nearly receded into his hairline, his green eyes spark mischievously, and he is biting back a smile. I shove away from him, nearly toppling out of my bed. It takes me a moment to notice that he’s shirtless. I raise up the blankets. A breath of relief escapes my lips when I see pants on him.

“Why are you in my bed?” I ask.

“You were restless every time I left your side,” he says with a shrug. He cracks a smile. “I didn’t figure you to be the cuddle-type.”

Again, I shove him away. I sit up on the bed, smiling when my back is to him. The t-shirt he put me in the day before hangs loose around my body. I turn my head just enough to see his face.

“Think about me in bed a lot, do you?” I ask before standing up and walking away from the bed. I don’t see the sudden coloring of his cheeks at my words. Instead, I dig through my suitcases for clean clothes. The selection is quickly dwindling. I’ve just selected a deep purple cami when Derek speaks from my bed.

“What are you?”

With his question, my shoulders slump. It’s a question I’m used to but it doesn’t mean I enjoy being asked. A hand rests on my shoulder and turns me to face him. I don’t realize that I’m fidgeting and ringing at the fabric in my hands until he pulls the article of clothing away and tosses it on the bed. I bite my lip.

“You can tell me,” he says. The kindness in his voice startles me and I look into his green eyes. They’re asking me to trust him.

I shake my head. “I honestly don’t know.”

“But you’re something,” he says.

I nod. “But I’m something.”

“Does it have anything to do with the scar on your side?” he asks and I nod again. I motion for us to take a seat on the couch. As we do so, I glance around my apartment which is in desperate need of being tidied up.

“At the age of fourteen, the members of my family are offered the bite. No one ever refused it, though.”

“But you did,” Derek says, a smile playing at his lips.

I smile back. “I refused. My dad wasn’t entirely surprised. I’ve always been a little different from the rest of my family. Even my sister. Anyways, despite being disappointed, he didn’t push it. Unfortunately for me, things took a drastic turn for me six months after my birthday.

“Suddenly I’m in and out of the hospital and the doctors used words like cancer and dying. My dad immediately offered me the bite but I refused again. I made my decision to be human. I wasn’t going to back away from it because of a disease that I could overcome. It has a rough battle but I did. It was hard. The chemo made me sick and weak and at one point I nearly broke down and asked my dad to do it, to bite me and end the awful way I was feeling. I spent four months like this before they finally operated. With the cancer gone, I went home.”

I stop. Derek’s eyes are nearly bulging out of their head at the knowledge of me having had cancer. He stares at my carpet and his hands are tangled together in tense knots. It’s eerily similar to how my dad reacted to learning I was sick. I did what I did then. I took Derek’s hands in mine and let him tangle his fingers around mine. It also forced him to look at me.