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"You should come by the loft," Scott says, his voice sounding strange. “Derek’s training us how to fight."
Stiles presses his phone between his ear and his shoulder so that he has both hands free to type a comment on Youtube. “Okay? Doesn’t sound like something you need me for."
"Just come by," Scott says, and hangs up.
Stiles makes an irritated noise and lets his phone drop to his lap. He finishes commenting and then grabs his keys, because Scott, damn him, knows how to pique Stiles’ curiosity.
He takes the stairs, because the elevator sets off alarms, and can hear loud smacks as he approaches the door. He pulls it open, and the werewolves don’t stop what they’re doing, which is … throwing really well telegraphed punches at each other as Peter leans against a wall and smirks at them.
"Oh my God," he says. “No wonder you keep getting your asses kicked."
Derek turns to scowl at him, one hand still holding Isaac’s fist. “What are you doing here?"
"Scott told me you were training them to fight, but what the fuck was that?"
"Sparring," says Isaac, trying to pry his hand free.
"Wow, no, you’re all fired."
"You think you can do better?" Derek raises one magnificent eyebrow at him.
Stiles shoves up his sleeves. “Yes. Now drop Isaac and come get me."
Derek eyes him doubtfully, and Stiles makes an impatient gesture at him. Derek drops Isaac’s hand and leaps towards Stiles, and it’s completely predictable how he jumps off the wall to try to come up on Stiles from behind.
Stiles doesn’t turn to face him, because there’s no way he’s that fast and he’d just trip over himself, but he slides, just a little, so he can grab Derek’s arm and use Derek’s own momentum to flip him so he lands hard on his back. “Who even taught you to fight, Jackie Chan?"
Derek flips to his feet, wide-eyed with surprise.
Peter snorts in amusement. “Precisely."
Derek scowls again, and his eyebrows snap down. “I learned to fight because I had to survive."
"Yeah, and it shows, buddy. Again."
Derek comes at him from the front, this time, a little slower and more calculating. Stiles can tell that he’s planning to pull his punch - can tell because Derek’s body basically screams everything he’s planning to do - and steps a little to the side and slams his knee into Derek’s gut. Derek goes down, of course, because his abs only look like they’re chiseled from marble, and Stiles kicks him in the floating rib so he stays. “You may be stronger and faster than a human, but literally your only advantage against someone who knows what they’re doing is your ability to take damage and heal fast. Training is already designed to compensate for stronger, faster opponents."
Isaac is eyeing him. “Where did you learn that?"
Scott claps him on the shoulder. “His dad’s the Sheriff. He took judo all through middle school." Scott smiles goofily at Stiles. “He was totally my white knight and beat up everyone who wanted to pick on me for being the new kid in seventh grade."
Peter raises a hand. “I vote we make Stiles our new alpha."
"Yeah, well, I still vote we kill you," Stiles snaps.
"This is not a democracy," Derek says, picking himself up from the floor. He dusts off his shirt. “We need every edge we can get against the alphas. Stiles -" he hesitates, seemingly at his limit at the prospect of actually coming out and asking for help.
Stiles pats him on the rock-hard chest. “Yeah, dude, I’ll totally show you how to not get your ass kicked by a human."
Derek scowls automatically. “Don’t call me dude."
"Oh, don’t lie, you love me."
Derek doesn’t say anything, but he scowls even harder.