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The boy was annoying. Derek already had to stop Erica from murdering him twice today and it wasn’t even noon yet. He would have done it himself, but Uncle Peter wanted the boy alive to interrogate. You didn’t go against the orders of the Hale Militia general if you wanted to live.
This rebel in particular has had a price on his head for years. The boy in the red jacket. From what the militia could put together, the boy was one of the rebel’s key strategists, a genius who was behind too many successful militia raids. Not that you would be able to tell after five minutes with the boy. He was loud and expressive and talked too much without really saying anything.
“...so we followed the trail and there was this giant yellow truck. We were hoping for water or paper, but get this! It was full of chocolate! Actual chocolate like the kind I used to eat before the lights turned off! I mean, it was really old and kinda melted all over the place, but chocolate man! That was a good day. And then...”
“I want a new gun,” Boyd said to Derek, ignoring the boy’s rambling. “We’ve had to put up with this for two days and we won’t get to the base for another day at least. I want a gun to make up for this.”
Derek snorted, but didn’t say anything. Boyd didn’t need a new gun, but he could talk his uncle into getting him one if he wanted to. His team was already equipped with the best that the militia had to offer because they were the best team. He, Boyd, Isaac, and Erica had been together for four years now and they worked like a well oiled machine. It was why they were the ones sent to capture the boy in the red jacket. If there was something important that needed to be done, Uncle Peter sent Derek’s team to do it.
“I don’t know,” Isaac mused, “He’s starting to grow on me. Like fungus.”
“I tend to have that effect on people,” the boy grinned.
“It’s too bad he’s going straight to the general,” Erica said, not really sounding like she thought that was a bad thing at all, “I can’t imagine he’ll be talking much after that.”
The boy didn’t seem deterred at all. “As great as meeting the antichrist would be, we won’t make it that far.”
“Still think you’re friends are going to save you?” Derek asked. “Because I wouldn’t count on that.”
“Oh, they’ll save me,” he shot back, confident, “We have this thing called ‘No man left behind’, like the United States had. Even though that’s totally sexist. I mean, if I was a girl, they’d totally still come and get me. We should change it the ‘No person left behind’ or something.”
This boy was ridiculously optimistic. It was a wonder he’s survived this long.“They’ll die if they try.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” the boy said with a sweet smile, throwing Derek’s words back at him.
“Be quiet.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me? You won’t do that. You would have to carry me the rest of the way, and let me tell you, I might look like skin and bones, but under these clothes are heavy, bulging muscles. Good luck carrying me around.”
Derek really didn’t want to think about what was under those clothes for various reasons, but he could help his eyes from roaming over the boy. Indeed, it did seem like he had some muscle hidden away, but not much.
Body clicked the safety off his gun. “General Hale never did say we had to bring you back in one piece.”
The boy was smiling stupidly at the gun aimed at his leg. “Are you sure? You wouldn’t want to go against orders. You guys seem like such loyal little puppies. I bet Peter gives you a pat on the head and a treat when you do a good job.”
Something about him was really starting to get under Derek’s skin. Derek never talked to captives. He caught and delivered them without much thought. He didn’t acknowledge the ones he brought back as anything other than a job and that was part of what made him so good at this. It wasn’t as if he never had mouthy prisoners before, but something about this boy put his nerves on end and drained him of all his patience. So instead of ignoring the boy like he should he said, “I’m looking forward to handing you over to my Uncle. He likes the ones with spirit. He says they’re fun to break.”
Derek wasn’t usually someone who stooped to villainous teasing, especially because he wasn’t a villain. He was off his game and the rest of his team knew it judging by the surprised looks he got. The boy looked surprised too. “Uncle? Wait...you’re Derek Hale? The ruthless captain who likes to munch on small children and adorable old people?” the boy paused, thinking and looking Derek over like he was searching for something. “You don’t really look that scary.”
Derek stopped and leaned over him, glaring but not saying anything.
“Okay, I take that back,” the boy said, bringing up his bound hands to shield his face, “You’re very scary.”
Erica laughed and Derek backed out of the boy’s personal space. “Gag him.”
“Finally!” Boyd exclaimed. The boy’s protests were cut short by Erica tying a piece of cloth around his head.
It wasn’t until night had fallen and the team set up camp that Derek removed the gag. The boy made an impressive show of spitting, coughing, and sputtering. “Oh my God. Do you have any idea how awful that thing tastes? It was like having a dead squirrel in my mouth and I should know because I did that on a dare when I was six.”
“Of course you did,” Derek couldn’t help but say.
“Seriously, Derek, can I have some water? I’m kinda dying here.”
The boy saying his name must have done something, because he found himself opening his personal canteen and holding it up to the boy’s lips. On his right, he could see Erica staring at them, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in amusement. Derek narrowed his eyes in response, challenging her to comment. Erica just rolled her eyes and walked away to fire up a campfire.
“Oh my God. You guys communicate by eyebrows!” the boy said as soon as Derek pulled away his canteen. “No wonder surveillance has been such a bitch.”
“Don’t make me gag you again,” Derek sneered.
The boy frantically shook his head. “Let’s not do that.”
“Then shut up.”
He didn’t shut up, but his chatter wasn’t as grating as before. Despite reason and better judgement, Derek listened to him babble about things he and an unnamed best friend got up to when they were younger. He pretended he wasn’t, but he didn’t think he was fooling anyone. At least he was making an effort to ignore the boy. Isaac bantered with him, Erica actively watched him with a small smile, and Boyd looked onto the scene with interest. To be fair, the three had joined the militia when they were around fourteen and hadn’t really had much of an childhood. The boy reeked of teenage carelessness and the kind of innocence that just wasn't seen these days. In a world where survival of the fittest was law, the boy was unreal.
Derek himself grew up in the militia and was hanging on every story the boy told as if he could soak up the experiences by osmosis. Discretely of course.
Soon, it was time for sleep and Derek took first watch. His team fell asleep quickly, but the boy stayed awake, drawing patterns in the dirt with a stick held awkwardly by both his hands that were still tied together.
“So,” he said. Apparently it was physically impossible for the boy to shut up. At least he was capable of being quieter in order to not wake the team. Derek hadn’t been sure he could be quieter than a gunshot before now. “Is there anyone special back home?”
It wasn’t the first personal question he asked Derek, but it was the first that was answered. “No.”
“Really?” he asked, surprise coloring his features. “I thought for sure you and Erica were a thing.”
Derek shook his head. “Not my type.”
The boy waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, not into the curves and estrogen?”
“Shut up.”
Derek was ignored. “Me neither.” And then he scooted closer to Derek until their sides were pressed against each other. Just like that, he didn’t look so innocent anymore. “You know,” he said, words slow and drawn out laced with intention, “I’ve been with militiamen before. They’re all the same. They act like they’re doing me a favor by fucking me, like they’re giving me some kind a gift, but it’s all ego and no skill. No finesse. It’s like they think that because they can do whatever they want, they can blow my mind with a quick, dirty fuck.”
Derek went still with shock. And arousal. But mostly shock. Then the boy slipped into Derek’s lap and licked a long stripe up his neck. He palmed Derek’s chest, making little scratches that sent sparks through Derek’s body. He hummed in satisfaction before he continued. “You don’t seem like them though. You seem like you’d take your time. Like you’d enjoy pulling me apart just as much as you would pushing me down and making me take it.”
“I...what...”
“Don’t pretend like you haven’t been watching me,” the boy said, dipping his head again to nibble at Derek’s neck.
When Derek’s response came out steady, it was a miracle because the boy was moving to tug an earlobe in between his teeth and it felt good. “Of course I watch you. You’re my prisoner.”
“Please,” he snorted, pulling back to look at Derek, “You know what I mean, but it’s ok because I’ve been watching you too.”
And then the boy was kissing him, pinning Derek with his lips and Derek couldn’t do anything but kiss him back. He was so caught up he didn’t notice when the necklace the boy was wearing started to glow.
They didn’t stop kissing until Boyd let out a scream. Derek shoved the boy out of his lap and jumped up into a crouch, searching the area for attackers. Boyd was moaning in pain on the ground with an arrow in his shoulder and Isaac was hunched over him, trying to keep him still. Erica stood protectively over them both, rifle aimed and ready to fire.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of blood rushing in Derek's ears. Then there was a glass bottle flying into the campfire and a great explosion. Derek was thrown onto his back and too quick, he felt something slice through his pants and nick his calf.
It shouldn’t have been a fatal wound and Derek should have been able to get up, but his limbs immediately grew heavy. In less time than it took to retrieve his handgun from where the explosion blew it, he was fully paralyzed and flat on his back. A blond boy with a sword stood over him, the weapon casually positioned at his neck.
“Jesus, it’s about time! I thought you guys had forgotten about me!”
The one with the sword scoffed. “I tried but McCall wouldn’t stop whining.”
“You wanted him back too!” some else Derek couldn’t see yelled. “You were pining, dude!”
The boy with the red jacket was standing over him now. “Is that new paralytic toxin Lydia’s been working on?”
“Yeah, he should be like this until sunrise.”
“Hmm,” he said, nudging Derek’s arm with his foot, “Are there any negative long term effects?”
“How would I know? I wasn’t even sure it was going to work until now.”
Derek felt rage boiling in him. He had been tricked and somehow, it felt like a betrayal. “I’m going to kill you,” he managed to grit out. The words were barely understandable, but the two boys seemed to get it by the way they laughed in response. Derek could only lay there as the boy and about four other rebels went through their camp, taking their weapons and provisions. As far as Derek could tell, his team was still alive, but paralyzed as well.
Eventually, the boy came back and straddled Derek’s stomach. Derek wanted to throw him off and switch their positions so he would be the helpless one. So he could feel used. Derek definitely didn’t like being paralyzed, least of all because of some stupid kid with a big mouth and stories about finding chocolate.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he didn’t really have the right to feel like this after he was going to turn the boy over to his uncle.
“Let’s move out,” a girl said, “Someone should have heard the explosion.”
“Just a minute,” the boy said, not taking his eyes off of Derek, “I’ll catch up.”
The girl huffed, “We didn’t come all this way for you to just get caught again.” Nevertheless, the other rebels seemed to be leaving.
“Sorry about this, big guy,” the boy said. He ran a hand down Derek’s chest slowly, feeling muscle and Derek shivered. The boy smirked and rolled his hips once into Derek’s stomach. “You can’t blame me for doing what I have to do to stay alive.”
“Fuck you,” Derek snarled, or as well as he could snarl poison running through his system.
The boy threw back his head and laughed. It was a different laugh than what Derek had gotten used to hearing these last couple of days. It was darker and wrong. “If only, Derek Hale.”
“I’m going to find you,” Derek said.
“Maybe,” the boy shrugged, “I honestly hope so. This was fun.”
“Come on, Stiles!” the blond boy yelled. The boy leaned down to give Derek a quick peck on the lips and then he was gone.
Stiles. They would see each other again. Derek was sure of it.