Same Old Song and Dance(Sterek)

Guilt

Stiles let the water roll over him, washing away Derek's touch. He glanced at the shelf to see a bar of soap, brown in color, just as Derek had said.

Guilt welled inside Stiles as he picked it up. He had been so sure he had Derek figured out. The look of pain when Stiles had accused him of waiting until Stiles felt guilty to scent him. The way his voice had sounded when he'd confirmed their relationship to be only business. Stiles bowed his head, letting the water fall over him, wishing it could wash away his guilt. Unfortunately, it did no such thing.

What would Stiles say to Derek now? How would he look him in the eyes after that? How would he pretend like he hadn't felt Derek's touch in such an intimate way? How would he pretend he hadn't hurt the man by accusing him of being manipulative?

Stiles let out a sigh as he recalled the way Derek's hands gripped his hips. Even when Derek was being rough with Stiles, he was being gentle. Derek was an alpha werewolf; he could have easily hurt Stiles and yet he hadn't.

The reminder of Derek being a werewolf, and an alpha at that, caused him to shutter. He hated this war inside him. This war where half of him was disgusted by the idea of being touched so intimately by a...dog and half of him yearned to trust Derek, to protect him....to feel his hands on him again.

Why was it so hard to let go of this animosity? He knew the truth. Were his teachings so ingrained into him? Anger swelled inside Stiles at how torn he felt. He hated feeling like he had to pick a side of himself. He felt like he didn't even know who he was anymore.

"You're a hunter." He whispered to himself.

But what did he hunt? His own kind? That was twisted. He didn't want to hurt his friends, his family.

"You don't have family." He whispered again.

Flashes of Chris and Allison's face made him bit down on his lip. How could he say that? They were fighting for him. They believed him. Of course he was a hunter. He was just working the other side for now. Derek had to understand that, right?

Stiles snatched the brown soap from it's place before he could change his mind again.

-

It had only been an hour since Derek had left Stiles' room, but Stiles' guilt hadn't gone away. He felt like he needed to clear the air.

He knocked on the main loft door, more as a formality. He was sure it was unlocked but he still felt strange walking into a room full of werewolves that likely still wanted him dead.

The door opened to Scott.

"Stiles, you know you can just- "

"Yeah, is Derek here?" Stiles cut in.

Scott paused a moment before glancing over his shoulder, "No, he left about a fourty-five minutes ago."

"What?" Stiles pushed the door open so he could step inside where the pack was gathered around looking tired.

"He said he needed to stretch his legs," Boyd sighed.

"And you let him?" Stiles snapped, his eyes turning to Cora, then Jackson and Theo.

"He's the alpha, we don't control him," Cora huffed, crossing her arms.

"You do realize that there are hunters looking for him," Stiles threw his arms up.

"Yeah, we aren't happy about it, but he said he needed to stretch. When we suggested you go with, he said he needed to be away from you- "

Jackson thrust an elbow into Theo's side cutting him off.