Sterek Shorts

Parents

"Yo, Derek, you seen Stiles around?" Scott asked as he made his way to the main room.

"No, I mean, not today at least. Last we talked he was going to see his dad," Derek explained.

"Oh, he's probably just spending the night."

"Maybe, I haven't gotten anything so I'm sure he's okay."

(With Stiles)

"It's your fault! She died because of you! We weren't even supposed to have a kid, but she was so persistent and I loved her! She was my soulmate and you killed her! You, Stiles, it's all your fault!"

"Dad!" Stiles responded in shock, his voice breaking.

Noah took another swig of his drink and wiped his mouth. He went to say something as the bottle in his hand raised. Noah stopped as his knuckles went white and his eyes flared with hatred toward Stiles.

"Stop...dad, put down the bottle," Stiles whined.

Noah threw the bottle with a grunt. Stiles dropped, just missing the bottle slamming into the wall above him. Shards fell, barely getting to his face.

Stiles looked up at his father with tears in his eyes and shaky breathing. Noah went to his said but Stiles bolted up and ran for the door. He made it into his jeep and locked the doors. The moment Noah made it out, Stiles was already backing out of the driveway.

(With Derek)

The door slammed shut and footsteps pounded on the steps leading upstairs. A second door slammed along with many other objects along with yells.

Scott rushed to Derek. "It's Stiles, he's home. I tried to talk to him but he pushed me away. I think he's bleeding," he rambled.

Derek dropped what he was doing and rushed upstairs. He tried to open the bedroom door but something was stopping it.

"Stiles!? Stiles!" Derek called.

"Go away!" He cried.

"Stiles open the door!"

"No! Leave me alone!"

There was a thud on the door that sent Derek back a few steps. He took a deep breath and went back to the door.

"Stiles, baby, let me in."

"No, just go away."

Derek sighed, "You better not be against the door because I'm kicking it in if you don't let me in."

There was a small pause before the door opened a little. Derek pushed it open and saw Stiles sitting in the corner. He carefully maneuvered around the broken and thrown clothes, glass, bedding, etc.

"What happened?" Derek asked, sitting by Stiles's side.

Stiles kept his head in his arms and cried. Derek wanted to ask more, to help, but he knew to let him calm down. He rubbed Stiles's neck.

"You don't have to talk, it's okay. Just- let me know he didn't hurt you."

Stiles sniffled and slowly looked up. Derek's nostrils flared at the iron smell. Stiles looked at him, but not directly.

Derek's hands cupped his face. "What did he do?"

Stiles held onto Derek's wrists and leaned into his touch. "He threw a bottle, it was my fault. I'm fine."

"What? That's crazy! None of this is your fault."

"Yes, it is. I killed my mom. It's all my fault."

"Stiles, I swear to god; I don't ever want to hear you say that again."

"But it-"

"Shut up."

"Derek..."

"No. Don't. Do not beat yourself up, you couldn't have controlled her death."

Stiles smiled sadly and his eyes filled with tears. Derek rubbed his cheeks and leaned close to him, pressing their foreheads together.

"I love you," Derek whispered.