You'll always be running

Derek had peeled his leather jacket off with some difficulty as only one arm was functioning properly. He was almost certain that this Stiles wouldn't dare try to take the jacket so he let it fall wherever it did. He was most certainly not relaxing slightly because he was in more familiar surroundings with a more familiar person. Not at all. Except for how he was.

( Goddamn Fandom had ruined his instincts. )

---

( Derek is starting to smell. It's pretty gross. )

[[NFB, NFI! Taken from Magic Bullet. Oh god, we are spamming you with TW.]]

After an evening of vigorous cuddling, Derek found himself awake. And back in his right mind.

And handcuffed to a bed.

If that wasn't enough to make him extremely uncomfortable and ticked off, there was someone drooling on his chest. The same someone who had handcuffed him to the bed in the first place.

He gritted his teeth, tugging hard on the handcuffs until the metal creaked and groaned under the strain. Someone was going to die for this weekend. Die horrible. He would murder the island itself.

[[for the mate-no-more, up early for le slowplay]]

Derek had repaired the hole in his house since the last time it had been the full moon, and had attempted to make one of the rooms more secure for a new werewolf. Which amounted to more chains and a few pieces of wood.

Look, he was a werewolf and tended to scare off the This Old House style shows at the hardware store on the mainland. This was the best you were going to get.

( Which is sad, because This Old Werewolf House would be an amazing show. )

[[NFB, NFI! Preplayed with the always fun robinonadderall and bitten_notshy]]