#also i spent so long wracking my brain over how to give it a werewolf form until i remembered symbiotes exist and i was like . ohhhh

[bytevamp]

guess who saw atsv

(it/he for lycan and he/it for wolfspider)

[when-they-write-stuff]

IT WAS UNFAIR, Stiles thought, that Derek Hale was so freaking hot.

It wasn’t just because it was a summer day and he swore, it had to be over a hundred degrees. It wasn’t just because the man had shed his shirt long ago, working alongside the betas as they started the paneling of the Hale house’s unfinished porch. And it wasn’t just because Stiles was a raging bisexual and Derek Hale was exactly his kind of dream guy.

Except maybe it was all of those things. Maybe it was because Derek Hale was so goddamn gorgeous, so very shirtless, and so freaking muscled, Stiles couldn’t wrap his head around it all. And— and shit. It wasn’t fair, Stiles thought. 

It wasn’t fair that Derek Hale was so freaking hot.

Sighing, he took another long drink of his lemonade, protected by the shade of the trees from across the lawn. He’d started out the afternoon helping the others work on the Hale house, he really had. But Stiles was just human, okay? He wasn’t nearly as muscled or effortlessly tireless as the others. And he’d never admit this any other time, but he was totally okay with being the token human for the day while the others worked their werewolfy asses off.

Sitting next to him, strawberry-blonde hair whisping slightly in the faint breeze, Lydia looked like she felt exactly the same.

“I never thought I’d look at a handful of shirtless, sweaty boys and feel nothing,” she said, tilting her head thoughtfully. Stiles choked on his sip of lemonade and Lydia smirked, glancing over at him before her gaze drifted back across the lawn toward Derek. “Just like I’m sure you never thought you’d look at such a hot, shirtless Hale and feel so much.”

“Oh my god, Lydia, really?”

Lydia just hummed and Stiles desperately tried not to blush, dropping his eyes to the dirt. Because his worst nightmare was that one day Derek would overhear what Lydia voiced in ‘private’, and he might just have to throw himself off a cliff if that ever happened.

And he was too young to die.

“Please, just never say that again,” Stiles said. “Like, ever.”

“You know it’s true, though.”

Stiles shot her a sharp look, which the girl completely ignored. But if Stiles had anything to say about it, Lydia was definitely wrong. And— and even if she wasn’t, it wasn’t like he was that obvious about certain things, okay? He definitely wasn’t obvious. 

In fact, Stiles would like to state for the record that he was the total and complete opposite of anything Lydia ever said. 

Always. 

Because Stiles had never tripped over his own feet after Derek flashed red eyes in his direction. And he’d never run face-first into a wall when the man had simply growled his name. He’d never accidentally spilled coffee down the front of his shirt when Derek had brushed a little too close and he’d never almost had a heart attack when Derek had shoved him into a wall after Stiles had spilled a certain... beverage all over the man’s shoes.

Okay, okay, maybe he had done these things before. Once. On the same day. But that was just once.

Just once.

And Stiles was pretty sure nothing like that would ever happen again. In that order, at least.

Yet, here he was, doing his best to pretend like a shirtless and sweaty Derek Hale wasn’t doing unseemly things to him. Unseemingly things like fixating only on the unseemly that he’d like Derek to be doing to him. Because, well, the things he’d let Derek do to him...

“Stiles,” Lydia said, interrupting his daydream. “You’re drooling.”

Stiles snapped back to reality, shaking his head, and automatically flushed at her smug look. “I am not.”

“You are. And it’s a bit pathetic.”

“Okay, you know what? You’re a bit pathe—” Lydia gave him a dangerous look and Stiles promptly snapped his mouth shut. “Never mind.”

“Wise choice.”

“But I wasn’t drooling.”

Smirking, Lydia gazed back toward the Hale house. Then, a devious look crossed her face and she glanced over at him before nodding toward where the others had stopped to take a break on the half-finished steps. “You know, you could be over there giving Derek a reason to drool over you.”

Stiles blinked. “Uh, you mean get all sweaty and gross too? No thanks.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I mean stop hiding over here and go get yourself worked up over there. Show those idiot wolves what Stiles Stilinski has to offer.”

“Okay, first of all, that is never going to happen,” Stiles said. “And seriously, Lydia, you’re a menace. Do you know what lies under all of this?” He gestured down at himself and accidentally sloshed lemonade over his hand, cursing. Point one for what Stiles Stilinski had to offer. “Absolutely nothing, that’s the answer. Nothing but pale skin, weak everything, and the proof that I’ve spent most of my life living off of curly fries and milkshakes instead of that green crap I make my dad eat.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused. Sighing, Stiles turned his gaze back across the lawn.

“What I would give for some werewolf abs, though.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Oh, that's absolutely how it works,” Stiles shot back. “Trust me, I know. I’m the pack expert, remember? The packspert, if you will. And you all rely on me to know these things.”

“Hm.”

Stiles took another sip of his lemonade, eyes still on Derek. Because he definitely was the pack expert, thank you very much. And werewolves like Derek Hale were definitely hot— it was part of the package deal. 

Stiles, on the other hand, was lacking hotness on many levels. 

And that’s why he was here, sitting far away from where Derek and any of the other werewolves who could catch wind of his... thoughts, daydreaming about a grumpy-growly alpha who would never see him as more than ‘skinny, defenseless, Stiles’. And he was totally okay with that, Stiles told himself. He was.

He’d always been better at lying to himself than others.

-

Three months before Stiles graduated Beacon Hills High, the Hale house was finally finished.

He thought it was a little strange how four years ago, the first time he’d laid eyes on the old house it had been nothing but a skeleton, the remnants looking like they could collapse in on themselves at any moment.

It was all different now. 

The Hale house looked a little bit like the ‘before’ pictures Stiles had once caught Derek studying— although there were also a few different things added on. Like the archery targets, for example. Or the giant porch that curved around to the back of the house, complete with a fire pit and a grill. 

Stiles couldn’t wrap his mind around ever seeing Derek Hale grill.

And yeah, the house looked a bit like these pictures Stiles had once caught Derek studying. The man had slammed them down and given Stiles a red-eyed alpha look before he could get a good look, but Stiles had ducked back into the room much later, finding a picture left behind that showed the Hale family standing in front of the house before it burned.

The younger version of Derek Hale had been smiling. Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen the older one look like that before.

He’d left the room feeling a bit conflicted.

Two weeks after that, Stiles swung by the fully finished house after school, the first one to arrive before the rest of the pack. The Camaro, he noticed, was parked near the trees, but the Hale house itself seemed quiet, the newly built porch so much more welcoming than it had been all those years ago.

Stiles hesitated before climbing out of his jeep, debating waiting for one of the others to show up. Scott would probably go to Allison’s first and Lydia would probably be at Jackson’s. Stiles had no idea what the other three betas were doing, but thinking too much about what they got up to outside of Derek’s supervision never ended well. 

Stiles had learned that the hard way years ago. 

Faintly, looking at the silent house, he wondered if it would look like this after the summer of graduation. Something about that made Stiles’s stomach clench and he shook his head, trying to banish any thoughts of Derek Hale being stuck in an empty house all alone when they were all gone.

Forcing himself out of the car, Stiles pulled his backpack over his shoulders and started toward the house.

It was eerily silent when Stiles stepped foot through the front door. He hesitated and craned his neck to glance up the stairs, then down the hall. But the house seemed completely empty.

“Uh, Derek?”

There was almost nothing in the house yet, so Stiles’s voice echoed off the empty walls. He moved through the house quietly, checking each empty room that he passed. But the big bad alpha of Beacon Hills didn’t seem to be anywhere around.

Stepping into the living room, Stiles paused. Sitting across the room was a single chair, facing where Isaac had stated the ‘necessary’ pack TV had to go. Behind it was a single picture frame on the wall and as Stiles moved closer, he realized it was the same one he’d seen weeks ago.

The glowing eyes that reflected back at the camera were only a little creepy.

“Stiles?”

“Shit!”

Stiles spun around so fast, he nearly tripped over his own feet. Derek stood in the doorway of the room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and a confused, if not a little concerned, look on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I… thought we were all meeting here after school?”

Derek raised an eyebrow but didn’t offer an answer. Fishing out his phone, Stiles scrolled through his unread messages and— shit. There were a number of cancellations from the others, one after the other.

Stiles swallowed hard, glancing back up. “Okay, I might be wrong.”

Derek just continued to eye him. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Stiles glanced around the near-empty room and desperately wracked his brain, trying to think of a reason that he should not be around either. Because what was he even supposed to do now?

This was not going according to plan.

“Well then,” he said, avoiding Derek’s unnerving stare. “I should be going.”

The silence continued to reign and when Stiles glanced back up, Derek just shrugged, turning away. And Stiles didn’t know where the hell the werewolf had come from or where he was going now, but he was not going to wait around and see.

Things did not need to be any more awkward.

Gripping the straps of his backpack tighter, Stiles made for the back door instead— the quickest escape route. Though, he still paused at the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. Derek was gone now, but Stiles noticed a single empty plate on the table next to the single empty chair— the few things in the near-empty room

The house suddenly seemed even quieter than before. 

Stomach twisting, Stiles swallowed hard and shook his head, ducking out the back door into the cool evening air. And he didn’t look back until he was in his jeep again, staring at the looming house.

He thought he saw movement in the highest window; the quickest flash of shadow. But when he blinked and looked again, the window was empty and the house stood still. Still, dark, and almost a little more menacing than before.

Stiles jammed the key into the ignition and drove away faster than was probably necessary.

-

Stiles thought his crush on Derek Hale started sometime after his freshman year.

After Derek stopped scaring the ever-living crap out of him and Stiles came to terms with his possible bisexuality, he realized that yeah, Lydia Martin was hot. But Derek Hale was hot too. And it was kind of hard to look at either of them without his heart skipping a beat or two, which Stiles figured probably meant something.

But his possible attraction to Derek didn’t matter, he’d decided. His sixteen-year-old self was sure that he’d be marrying Lydia Martin one day and with that picture in mind, he could just appreciate Derek for what he was— a hot guy.

But then sometime around his junior year, Stiles realized he probably wasn’t going to marry Lydia Martin. And that… that was fine too.

One year later, he was completely fine with how everything had turned out. 

By the time the Hale house was fully furnished, the pack spent nearly every afternoon there. It was nice; close by and large enough for them all. And sometimes, when Stiles came through the front door and met Derek’s gaze, he thought he could remember this one strange feeling he’d had the very first time he’d laid eyes on the man. So many years ago.

Or maybe, that one time in the pool. Or the kanima incident at the sheriff’s station nearly three years ago.

Or the first time Derek had come through Stiles’s window looking for research help.

“Stiles? Bro, Earth to Stiles.”

Stiles snapped out of his thoughts as an elbow jabbed into his side. Yelping, he glared sideways at the offender; and Scott just grinned innocently back, nodding toward the others. 

“We’re all gonna go see a movie tonight. You in?”

“A movie?”

“Yeah, man. They’re doing replays of Star Wars all weekend.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “You do realize there’s a TV here, right? One that Isaac literally said was a ‘life or death’ necessity.”

Sitting on the floor across the room, Isaac flushed. “It is.”

“So…”

“Yeah, but Star Wars,” Scott said. Stiles snorted.

“Dude, I literally own all of them. What about a movie night here? Oh, we could even get pizza!”

Scott exchanged a dubious look with Allison, who shrugged. Stiles glanced at Erica, where she was wrapped around Boyd on the couch. The girl hesitated, then cast a dreamy look upward, smacking her lips together. “Movie popcorn easily outweighs boxed pizza, Batman. I vote for the movie theater.”

“I second that,” Jackson said, smirking over at Stiles. Stiles glared at him.

“You don’t get a vote, lizard boy.”

Jackon’s eyes flashed gold. “Say that again, Stilinsksi.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Lydia said, giving Stiles a warning look. He just rolled her eyes and the red-haired girl considered for a moment, before shrugging. “I agree with Jackson.”

“Ugh,” Stiles groaned. “Don’t side with the snake.”

But the decision was already made up, apparently, as Scott jumped to his feet with a grin. “Sweet!” he said, pulling Allison up too. “Let’s get out of here then.”

Stiles didn’t even have a chance to protest before Erica was snatching the jeep’s keys off the coffee table and taking off toward the door, the holler of ‘shotgun!’ left in the air at her back. Groaning, he ran a hand through his hair and then slowly pushed himself up too.

It was only then that he noticed Derek hadn’t moved a muscle from his spot in the furthest corner of the room.

“Uh, hey, Sourwolf, you coming?”

Grey-green eyes lifted from his book and Derek gave him an unimpressed look. “No.”

“What? Why not?”

This time, Derek’s brows furrowed. And yeah, Stiles supposed the book and the whole grumpy-growly attitude Derek had going on was probably a pretty telling answer. But he still couldn’t squash a strange feeling of disappointment.

“Come on, dude, it’ll be fun! Movie popcorn! I’ll even buy.”

To his surprise, the furrow between Derek’s eyes actually seemed to soften a little. Well, maybe it did. Just a little bit. “No, Stiles. You go.”

That strange feeling of disappointment grew even more. Stiles frowned. “Seriously, dude?”

And just like that, the unimpressed furrow was back again. Along with a flicker of red. “Yes, Stiles. Go.”

And yep, that was the Alpha werewolf that used to scare the crap out of Stiles all those years ago. Sighing, he turned away and waved a hand over his shoulder in dismissal. “Fine, Sourbutt. But you’re missing out on a good time!”

Stiles didn’t get an answer. But he hadn’t really expected one.

The house was silent as he left.

-

The weekend before graduation, Lydia had a party.

Stiles had been looking forward to it for weeks. Mostly because, yeah, the last party Lydia had hosted ended up going horribly wrong, but weren’t things different now? They hadn’t faced a supernatural threat in months and Stiles was finally starting to remember what it felt like to be a normal teenager again.

So, he was pretty excited for Lydia’s party. And of course, if he had still been in love with her, this would have been the most nerve-wracking night of his life. But Stiles was all good now and he was ready to have fun, do a little dancing, and maybe get a bit drunk if he thought he could get away with it.

He didn’t get a little drunk.

Somehow, three hours after arrival, Stiles was pretty sure he was wasted.

Keeping up with the werewolves was hard, he quickly came to realize, even if they laced their drinks with wolfsbane for a little extra kick. One hour in, Scott, Allison, and Isaac were nowhere to be seen. Two hours in, Erica was doing her best to convince Boyd to go around scaring the shit out of other drunks with their flashing eyes. And three hours in, Stiles had no idea where Lydia had gone, but the entire room was spinning so fast, he was pretty sure he was either going to pass out or hurl. Whatever came first.

He didn’t actually do either. 

Instead, somehow, Stiles ended up at the Hale house when the moon was high in the sky. It was dark enough that he could barely see the way to the front door, but that proved not to be a problem when he fell face-first out of his jeep the moment he managed to open the car door.

And shit, his dad was going to kill him if he ever found out about this.

Rolling onto his back, Stiles blinked up at the dark sky and groaned. He was pretty sure getting back up wasn’t an option, not unless he wanted to just go right back down. So maybe he’d just die here…

Except suddenly, a looming figure blocked his view and Stiles shrieked, kicking upward with all his strength. His foot connected with something solid and the figure grunted— and Stiles realized much too late what he’d done.

“Dammit, Stiles!”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, voice barely a whisper. Half-bent over, Derek glared at him and Stiles mustered his best smile, desperately hoping that would keep him from getting his throat ripped out on the spot. “Er, hey there, Sourwolf. Fancy seeing you here.”

Red flickered through the man’s eyes. Stiles winced and after another long moment, Derek straightened up, giving him a look that held the promise of possible murder. 

“What the hell are you doing, Stiles?”

Stiles blinked at the man. Then he shrugged, shifting a little in the dirt. “Resting.”

Derek’s expression tightened. The man leaned over again, sniffed deeply, and then his face twisted. “Are you drunk?”

“Only a little.”

“Dammit, Stiles!”

“Oh, please don’t ‘dammit Stiles’ me. I came here so I wouldn’t have to hear that exact statement from my dad tonight—”

But suddenly, Derek went rigid, his eyes flashing again. Stiles cut off, looking at the man in fear, and Derek gave him the most terrifying red-eyed look that Stiles had probably ever seen. 

The man really looked like he could kill someone now. And Stiles was the only person around.

But then when Derek spoke, his words were so calm, so steady, Stiles thought that was even scarier.

“Stiles, did you drive here drunk?”

Oh, shit.

Stiles opened his mouth— then closed it again. Derek’s face was carefully blank now and Stiles was pretty sure if he could actually stand, sober him would be running right now. Because this was scarier than he’d ever seen Derek— even when the man had been that grumpy-growly “I’ll rip your throat out” asshole when they’d first met.

But before Stiles could even think of an answer, he was being scooped up. A sputtering noise of surprise left his mouth as Derek all but hauled him over his shoulder and then turned around, starting toward the Hale house.

Stiles’s head pounded. His stomach churned and as he watched the ground just a few feet away from his face, he wondered what would happen if he hurled all over Derek’s back.

As if the man could read his thoughts, Derek’s grip tightened. “Don’t you dare.”

Stiles did his best to keep everything down.

The dirt of the front driveway turned into the porch steps, and then the front door slammed as the ground Stiles was looking at became hardwood. Derek hauled him into the living room and dumped him on the couch, making Stiles groan loudly.

“Oh my god, dude, my head.”

Derek gave him a look of pure fury. Any more complaints dying on his tongue, Stiles shrank back.

“I mean, never mind. I’m completely fine.”

“No, Stiles, you’re not.” Derek’s eyes sparked red. “I can’t believe you would do something so stupid. So irresponsible. ”

“I… what?”

But Derek just shook his head and turned away, stalking from the room. Stiles stared into the darkness for a moment, his thoughts moving slowly, and he totally blamed it on the alcohol. Except, he really just didn’t know what to do with what was currently unfolding.

Derek had actually sounded upset. Concerned, even.

Stiles figured he was even drunker than he’d originally thought. In fact, maybe this was all just a spiked-punch induced hallucination. Just like last time Lydia threw a party.

Except, this definitely wasn’t a nightmare.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled Stiles right back out of his thoughts and he blinked in surprise as Derek stepped closer with a trash can, a glass of water, and a white bottle of pills.

“Uh,” Stiles said, utterly dumbfounded. Derek scowled at him and he shrank back again.

“You throw up on my floor,” the man growled. “I’ll rip your throat out.”

Wordlessly, Stiles nodded. Derek shoved the glass forward.

“Drink.”

Stiles didn’t need to be told twice. He drained the water in a few seconds and Derek set the bottle of pills on the side table, giving Stiles another dark look as he took the empty glass back. “Don’t take any of those until morning.”

Again, Stiles nodded. Derek set the trashcan next to the sofa and turned away again, vanishing into the darkness once more.

This time, the silence lasted a little longer. But still, Derek came into the room after a few minutes, another glass of water in hand and a rolled-up blanket tucked under his arm. As Stiles stared, the man set the water next to the pills, then unrolled the blanket and draped it over him.

Stiles felt a little bit like a child.

He honestly didn’t know how to react.

Then, finally, finally, Derek stepped back and folded his arms over his chest, surveying the entire scene as if he was satisfied with his work. Stiles stayed stock-still, kind of worried that any sudden movements would mess everything up.

Whatever ‘everything’ was right now.

Catching him staring, Derek glared again. “I’m going back to bed. If you wake me up, I’ll kill you.”

“...Got it.”

The man gave the room one more once-over and then turned away, heading back for the hallway. But before he could vanish into the dark all over again, Stiles sat straight up, internally screeching as the blood rushed to his head. 

“Derek?”

The broad-shouldered silhouette paused. Stiles swallowed.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t get a single response. Not even a nod.

Stiles blinked and Derek was gone.

-

Graduation came and went like it wasn’t even worth the hype.

Stiles had avoided going back to the Hale house since that night, but it was like it never happened. In fact, if he hadn’t woken up to an empty house with a cup of coffee next to the glass of water and pills, Stiles might have believed it hadn’t.

But it had, which meant he’d made a complete fool of himself. And as Stiles had dragged himself off the couch and toward the front door, he’d been pretty sure he could never face Derek again. It didn’t really help that he could barely remember anything that happened that night, because what if he’d said or done something totally dumb?

Dumber than usual, that is.

So he’d decided to avoid both Derek and the Hale house for as long as possible. He’d noticed his dad never said anything too, which meant Derek hadn’t dropped by to say a word of whatever the hell had happened.

Things were fine. It was all fine.

But then, when they were all hanging out after the graduation ceremony was over, Scott told him they were holding the graduation party at the Hale house.

“Oh,” Stiles said, his throat going dry. “Oh, that’s great. Great, great, great, dude. Absolutely great.”

Scott gave him a small look of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, great, I’m just fantastic,” Stiles said. Then, sighing, he shook his head. “Okay, no, I'm not. Remember that one time I told you Lydia Martin was the only person I’d ever have feelings for? Like, ever?”

Slowly, Scott nodded. Stiles swallowed hard and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“Yeah. I think I’m in love with Derek.”

In a moment, Scott’s eyes rounded twice their usual size. Stiles winced and almost instantly wished he could take back his words. Especially when Scott nearly shouted his next words.

“You’re in love with Derek?!”

“Oh my god, Scott,” Stiles swore, clapping both hands over Scott’s mouth. But the boy just ducked away and looked at Stiles like he’d grown two heads, mouth opening and closing a few times before he spoke again.

“What does that even mean?”

“Well, gee, Scott, I don’t know. What does being in love with someone even mean?”

“You... like him?”

“Seems we’re both coming to that gradual realization, yes.”

“Like, in a good way?”

Stiles stared at the boy. “Okay, please tell me you’re kidding right now.”

But Scott just continued to stare. Then, he glanced around and leaned closer, words hushed as if he was divulging his deepest secret. “Do you mean find him... attractive?”

Stiles pulled a face and gave the boy an incredulous look. “No, Scott, I don’t think werewolves who like to growl a lot and could probably crush me like a bug are attractive. And I definitely don’t think Derek is the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Scott blinked. Then frowned.  “Okay, but you’re not lying.”

“No, Scott, I’m not!”

If Stiles could go back about five minutes ago, he would probably punch his past self for ever thinking he could tell Scott something like this in public. The boy looked like he was still lost and Stiles mentally prepared himself for more questions— before Allison came out of the crowd and linked her arm through Scott’s own, giving Stiles a warm smile.

“Hey, the others are heading to Derek’s. You guys ready?”

Scott looked from Stiles, to Allison, then back. Stiles gave him a sharp, warning look, but the boy just winced apologetically and let Allison lead him away— with knowledge Stiles never should have provided.

Closing his eyes, Stiles took a few deep breaths and then trudged after the two of them, silently hating himself for every decision he’d ever made.

-

If he wasn’t fearing for some kind of inevitable doom, Stiles might have been amazed by how the Hale house looked in the darkness that night.

Okay, that was a lie. He was still amazed.

Lights had been strung through the rafters of the porch and multi-colored garden lanterns were stuck in the ground all around the lawn. Stiles smelled barbeque before he even stepped out of the car and almost instantly zeroed in on his dad behind the grill, looking like he was the happiest person on the planet.

Except, Derek stood beside him, laser-focused on whatever the hell the Sheriff was grilling. And Stiles was pretty sure they were talking.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

But before Stiles could rush over and intercept what he could only imagine was not a very promising conversation, there was a hand on his sleeve and he was being pulled across the lawn instead. Stiles spun around, cursing, and nearly stumbled over his own feet to see Erica looking at him with a sharp grin. One that made his blood run cold.

Yeah, this might be worse.

“So, Stiles, ” the girl said, letting go of his sleeve only when they were at the very edge of the lawn, far away from the sound of music. “You’re in love with our alpha?”

Stiles froze. Then groaned. “I swear to god, I’m going to kill Scott.”

Erica barked out a laugh. “Oh, Batman, your puny little werewolf friend didn’t have to tell me a thing.”

Stiles blinked. Erica’s grin turned sharper.

“You spent the night here,” she said smugly. “Last weekend.”

“Last weeken... oh my god.”

Crossing her arms, Erica gave him a triumphant look. And Stiles didn’t even know where to begin before the girl was speaking again. “So you’re totally head over heels for Derek then? I mean, clearly you two bange—”

“Woah, no, stop!” Stiles said, waving his hands through the air. Erica narrowed her eyes but closed her mouth, and Stiles took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “I did not sleep with Derek.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t,” he hissed. “It was after Lydia’s party and I was drunk. I needed somewhere to crash.”

Erica raised an eyebrow. Stiles sighed.

“I almost passed out in the driveway and then nearly threw up all over him. Trust me, you menace, that’s about as far away from sleeping with Derek that I can possibly get.”

“Okay, then,” Erica said, studying him. “But you're definitely in love with him.”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. And the beta’s face lit right back up as she laughed.

“Oh, I knew it! I am so going to win this bet.”

“Wait, what?”

“I mean, Boyd didn’t think it would happen until the end of summer,” Erica continued, completely ignoring him now. “And Isaac clearly has his head up his ass because he didn’t think it was going to happen at all—”

“Hold up,” Stiles said, cutting her off. “What are you talking about? What bet?”

Erica straightened. Then, she grinned.

“Nothing. No bet.”

“Oh, hell no,” Stiles said, shooting a look over his shoulder. Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed them yet and he was going to get answers out of her before anyone could interrupt. Because if this was another one of the beta’s stupid pranks— “Erica, I swear to god, I’ll skin your little wolfy ass. Talk, now.”

“Well, see, it all started at the beginning of the summer…”

But suddenly, Erica’s eyes lit up and she trailed off, brushing around him. Protests already rising on his tongue, Stiles spun around after her. Only to freeze.

Derek stood a few feet away, hands behind his back as he glanced between them. Stiles was pretty sure his heart skipped at least two beats.

“Oh, alpha of mine,” Erica said, approaching Derek and giving him a sharp grin. “So good to see you. Also, I’m gonna go now.”

Derek raised an eyebrow and watched her move around him, head tilting slightly. Then he turned to look toward Stiles, who was starting to feel like he could be sick. “Er, yeah. Hey, Derek.”

“Was I interrupting?”

“Absolutely not.”

Stiles probably spoke too quickly because Derek’s eyebrows climbed even higher. Flushing, Stiles dropped his gaze and silently cursed himself. 

“I mean… no. You weren't.”

When he finally glanced up again, Derek still didn’t look very convinced. Biting down on his tongue, Stiles searched for any other kind of conversation diversion.

“So. Grilling.”

Derek’s expression turned even more incredulous, though his lips twitched a little. Stiles winced, turned his gaze downward again.

“I saw you and my dad earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah." Derek said thoughtfully. As if that wasn't disturbing news. "He offered me a position at the station two weeks ago. Deputy. I thought it was time I gave him an answer.”

Stiles’s head snapped back up so fast, he swore he heard something crack. “What?”

Derek slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’m taking it.”

“You’re— I— what?”

Derek didn't look too bothered by the fact that Stiles was nearly having a heart attack. But Stiles’s head spun and he felt a little bit confused, a little bit shocked, and kind of betrayed all at the same time. Because two weeks ago? That was plenty of time for his dad to at least mention something about possibly hiring Derek Hale.

“Now the house is built, I’m going to need to do something,” Derek said, studying him. “Over the summer and afterward.”

“Why?”

The moment the word left Stiles’s mouth, he felt like an idiot. Because, duh, they were all going to be spread out across the state pretty soon. Except for Lydia, of course, who was going multiple states away. But all this time, Stiles had imagined Derek being lonely and isolated in the Hale house when they were gone… 

And just like that, he felt like an even bigger idiot.

Oh.

Looking at Derek with new eyes, Stiles suddenly remembered the past few months a little bit differently. 

Derek, working alongside his betas on the new house— all amused looks and soft smiles. Then, that one picture on the wall, right next to the lone chair that soon sat right alongside the rest of the furniture; with enough space for the rest of the pack to be right next to him. And even beyond that, the contented silence when they all went off to do their own thing. Like he knew they were going to be back, no matter what.

A lump formed in Stiles's throat and he stared at the man, feeling like an idiot. “You’re not lonely here."

Derek tilted his head. “No.”

“It’s home.”

Once more, Derek’s lips twitched. Stiles swallowed hard. 

“Last weekend…”

“You’re lucky I hadn’t taken the job offer yet.”

Oh.

So, Stiles hadn’t made a fool out of himself that night. But maybe he’d been making a fool out of himself long before then, and ever since. He’d found it so easy to look at Derek Hale and think about all those years ago, like the man was still a part of the past. But maybe Stiles was still the one living back then, not Derek.

“Stiles?”

Glancing across the lawn, Stiles watched the others for a moment. Music floated through the air and he didn’t see a single person other than him and Derek standing apart from the crowd. And they were all different now, weren’t they? It’d been years.

Stiles took a small breath and glanced back toward the man. They were all different now.

“Do you want to dance?”

Derek’s eyes flickered and after a moment, the man nodded. Hands trembling nervously, Stiles followed him away from the edge of the lawn, back toward the others. Gaze drifting a little ways further, Stiles's stomach flipped to see Erica watching with a wide smirk and a wad of cash in hand.

And then, like the entire world thought this was amusing too, the music slowed.

Stiles froze, looking back at Derek. But the man just raised an eyebrow and Stiles thought that maybe he could die on the spot. Because there was nothing even hot about that look. No, Derek Hale was drop-dead gorgeous and Stiles couldn’t believe he was standing literally inches away from the man that he had somehow fallen in love with. And he hadn’t even done anything stupid yet.

Then Derek stepped closer, Stiles’s heart stopped, and he promptly tripped over his own feet, spilling right into the man.

Someone barked a mocking laugh to the side; it sounded suspiciously like Jackson. Wincing, Stiles pulled himself back up and slowly met Derek’s gaze again. 

“Sorry.”

“Let me.”

Fingertips brushed against his own and Stiles’s heart hammered against his chest as Derek took his hands. And shit, how many months ago had he been drooling over Derek like a teenager? Grey-green eyes danced in the glowing lights and Stiles remembered Lydia’s words faintly, flushing a little despite himself.

Give Derek something to drool over.

“You know, it's kind of unfair,” Stiles mumbled. “That you’re so freaking hot.”

“Oh, really?”

Stiles chewed on his lower lip, trying to avoid Derek's full-on gaze. “You know. Like, in a ‘I might be kind of in love with the big bad alpha of Beacon Hills’ way.”

Derek suddenly paused and Stiles’s throat tightened. 

“Only if that’s okay.”

Beyond them, the music had changed again, turning into something more lively. But Derek still didn’t move and Stiles forced himself to meet the man’s eyes once more, trying to expect literally anything— he didn’t even know what to hope for anymore.

Derek’s brows were furrowed. His expression was a little quiet, a little gentle.

“Derek?”

“It’s about time.”

And Stiles blinked, mouth dropping open. But before he could even say a word, even wrap his mind around what had just been said, Derek was leaning forward and Stiles closed his mouth right back shut as warm lips brushed against his own.

In an instant, some part of his mind screeched. Some part logged off and logged back on again. And one more part replayed that one time he’d run into a wall after Derek had simply growled his name.

Then, Stiles fell right into the kiss and thought what had he even been feeling again? 

So much.

But when Derek kissed him for the first time that night, the first time since they'd met, all soft and warm with the Hale house lit up behind them and the smell of barbecue in the air, Stiles realized he only felt one thing right now.

Full.

It kind of felt like the future. Kind of felt like home.

-

There was another picture hanging on the living room wall after Stiles went off to college, right next to the one of the Hale family. In it, some eyes glowed kind of creepily, some eyes didn't. Some people were holding each other tightly, some weren't. But they were all side by side, and they were all smiling. Older Derek Hale was smiling, just like all those years ago.

Standing next to him, eyes glowing for completely non-werewolf-related reasons, Stiles Stilinski was too.

- -

A/N: so I kind of mixed and matched prompts for this and it ended up being waaay longer than I expected. But I hope it turned out alright? I adore you both @wolfile​ & @pickosita5stwin​ !

[alittlebitgoofy]

dog days are over (kyara)

the kyara backstory prequel to glass wings that i wanted to get around to writing but it was a gift for @dollalpaca in an exchange i did with some friends :)

ao3 link

Pain. A shooting pain that had her limping to the nearest light. How Kyne was still on her feet was a mystery, and she wracked her brain for an answer as to how she’s made it this far. Losing her pack was one thing. Falling from a tree when trying to gain height was another. Randomly walking trying to find anyone around? A dangerous idea, but at that point she would risk death if she couldn’t find a way to fix up her broken, bleeding paws.

Most people were scared of wolves, the thought was in the back of Kyne’s head. She knew it was likely if anyone found her that they would run or hurt her more. People were cruel, people outside of the pack were not to be trusted. That lesson had been instilled in her as a child. But risking it was her best chance, these wounds couldn’t heal naturally and she had no pack to turn to.

Only a few more steps and her legs gave out. All she could do was whimper as she collapsed, a heap of bloody fur and small yelps. Nothing compared to the fearsome beasts her kind were known to be. Hurt, alone and not sure she would survive the night. Kyne felt herself slowly giving in to the fatigue pulling her in. Falling asleep might spell her demise but the warmth felt so inviting she couldn’t help but fall in.

Kiara heard soft whimpers, panting, and then silence. It was a terrifying combination. Someone too hurt to alert anyone, then falling silent. Something was wrong. Someone needed help. She flew around the trees, looking for anything or anyone but couldn’t find anything. That was before another, weaker whimper came from below. All she saw was a pile of fur. Getting closer, the blood was obvious.

A werewolf, one who was on the brink of death by the looks of it. Still breathing, although barely. They were still bleeding, showing no signs of stopping. Their paws were covered in little scrapes and specks of blood. One stuck out, it fell in the opposite direction to the other ones, stiff and not covered in blood. Strange.

They looked small enough, not as big as the stories made wolves sound. It might have been the way they hunched over, curled as small as the pain allowed them, as if trying to appear weaker? Maybe to grasp a bit of pity out of the person who found them? Kiara lifted them, noting the blood that dripped from the three paws as she did so. Although they were somewhat hefty due to their size, Kiara lifted them, flying to her house as quickly as possible. The wolf laid limp in her arms, Kiara cursing herself, barely able to contain another person’s weight as she flew but knowing she was in too deep at this point and needed to help the wolf. She couldn’t let an innocent creature die, although wolves were temperamental and could injure anyone if angered, they were innocent until proven otherwise.

Kiara just about managed to get the wolf into her house before they stirred. First, a slight movement in the less damaged front paw, slowly becoming more active before the wolf shot up. Eyes wide, staring at Kiara.

Kyne’s eyes could barely focus, holding contact on the figure in front of her but not able to distinguish any features. They stepped closer, leaning over to look over her bloody front paw. She yelped at the person applying pressure to it, wanting to swat them but the energy just wasn’t there. She had no choice but to let the person do whatever they were doing and hope it wasn’t going to hurt her anymore.

“Oh non ça se passera pas.” The words the person spoke made no sense to Kyne, but the panic in the tone and the grabbing of her paw inferred something bad. She didn’t have much time to ponder the meaning as the fairy got to work. Kiara worked at cleaning the most injured paw, washing off the dirt that made its way into the wound. It felt like years of medic training were finally worth it, no matter how much more exciting the guard training had seemed, the horror stories she got from Juice shook the desire from her rather quickly.

She felt a weak attempt to pull the paw from her hands, followed by the wolf lowering her head in shame. Almost as if begging for mercy from the hands of the person who was helping her. Kiara vaguely wondered if the blood loss had messed with her head and made her think she was still in danger. That might explain the small attempts to guard herself.

“Little wolf, I’m going to fix up your wounds okay? It might hurt a little but it’ll save you a lot of pain in the long run.” Kiara whispered to the wolf, noting how her ears flattened and her head stayed low. She didn’t attempt to pull away after, softly growling when something got too painful but never disrupting Kiara’s process.

Kyne felt her consciousness waning once more, the pain was mostly dull, not as distracting anymore. But the way Kiara held her made it easier to relax, ignoring the pain and letting the fairy do her work.

Kiara finished bandaging up the paw and clearing out all the wounds, noting that the wolf had fallen unconscious again. Considering how injured she was, Kiara lifted the mass of fluff and placed her onto her bed to rest, herself resting on the sofa she used to help with the minor injuries so they had a place to sit.

Watching the sleeping wolf, Kiara felt anxiety building up. She hoped that they would be alright, not too scared when they woke again. Something felt different, that they wouldn’t hurt her but the thought still lingered. She could only push it back, unknowingly falling asleep to thoughts of what would happen next.

---

Kyne spent the next few days vaguely aware of her lack of mobility but still trying to move regardless. Waking up on an unfamiliar bed still in her wolf form was a shock. The attempts to turn human failed miserably, the pain coming back with any movement. Her saviour had come in the form of a fairy. She noticed how tall she was, the way she had to lean over to check on Kyne’s wounds. Her eyes were kind, shutting down the anxiety that had been building about being found by the wrong person.

Kiara couldn’t communicate fully with the wolf but they made it work, days of one-sided conversation, Kyne not able to turn human again until she had healed up enough. The lack of understanding didn’t stop her from being vocal, light growls and barks were enough to convey limited emotions. Kiara introduced herself, realising her mistake when Kyne's only response was a growl. Somehow, their conversations thrived still. Maybe it was the lack of movement but Kyne found herself listening more than ever before. Kiara captured her attention in a way no one had before. It didn’t hurt that she was truly a beauty to watch the existence of. The more time the wolf spent looking at her impossibly long legs the more she wished she could talk, have a full conversation with the pretty fairy.

“Is your paw feeling any better? You’ve been lively enough, it mustn't be bothering you that badly.” Kiara regarded the wolf with a smirk. Kyne had gone off on the wolf equivalent of a rant. Although she understood none of it, Kiara nodded along and let her get out whatever energy she needed to. Although it was difficult to stay serious and listen when you were the subject of lots of barks and growls all in different tones and inflections.

Kyne nodded, surprised by how much she’d healed over the past few days. Kiara had tended to the worst wound, keeping an eye on the light scratches and clear bruising but focusing her attention on caring for the badly injured paw. Kyne had regained some limited movement, not without a good dose of pain though. Healing didn’t mean healed and she still flinched every time Kiara touched it to check the bandages or clear the wound before adding fresh bandages.

She prepared herself for another round of Kiara not understanding her response, speaking up for the off-chance some understanding could come out of it.

“It’s better, still hurts every time I move it though. You’ve helped it heal quickly though.”

Kiara was taken aback, the wolf had spoken in actual words. Before she could comment, a flash shone in front of her before a human sat in the wolf’s place. She was cuter than Kiara had thought, her eyes held a mischievous glint that wasn’t present on the wolf but they were similar, warm and dark brown.

Kyne took a few seconds to register everything that had happened. She was in her human form suddenly after days of trying and failing? Not the best idea. That was until the wounds made themselves known on her human body. It was a majority of small scratches and bruises, nothing too serious until the arm. Kyne had no idea how badly she had injured her paw, only that it hurt a lot and was bleeding. The darker bruise and lack of movement in her wrist made it clear, her arm was out of order for at least another few days.

“I’m Kyne by the way, and yes I can speak in more than growls and barks. I just thought it would be fun.” The sarcasm dripping off her voice towards the end sent Kiara into laughter. Something about human Kyne was eye-catching, she had an energy that caught the fairy’s attention immediately, making her wonder if this was going to be a long-term infatuation or just the shock of finally talking to her properly. It helped that she was cute, Kiara didn’t know how to act when the cute werewolf was also funny. One person, yet so many things are good about her.

“So how did you end up bleeding in the middle of a forest exactly?” The question broke any tension or awkwardness in the air. It was to the point and quick, something that endeared Kyne even more towards the pixie.

Kyne paused, eyes shifting, not able to explain it and hold eye contact with Kiara. Any confidence she had quickly flew out the window when remembering exactly what happened.

“I lost my pack so I tried to gain height, climbed up to try and find them but ended up slipping out and bashing my paw on a bunch of branches before landing on it.” Despite the embarrassing story, her confidence returned as the cute fairy clearly found her funny. Letting out a laugh that made Kyne almost melt. That was the boost she needed to talk to her more casually, lightly flirting over the next few minutes and trying to get any reaction out of the fairy.

---

Kyne had largely learnt to appreciate the unique qualities that came with being a werewolf, she was a lot more observant than the average person and had quick enough reflexes to keep her out of danger. There were some drawbacks, like when a wolf bonded with someone it made their instinct kick in and the idea of leaving them was painful. Of course, her relationship with Kiara had become complicated. Kyne didn’t have the courage to explain to her exactly what had happened. But she realised that if her pack found her it would be almost impossible to go back. The second romantic feelings got involved was the downfall of her kind. Maybe it was the pack mentality that caused it? But she was too attached to Kiara to leave unless rejected.

She was different, kind and caring but had a similar sense of humour to Kyne, loving the sarcasm and fighting back with her own dramatics that made the wolf burst into laughter every single time.

They were currently patrolling, looking for any signs of her pack. It hurt to walk on her paws so Kyne was relegated to trying to keep up with a flying fairy on foot. The lack of signs was slowly getting to her. The possibility her pack had left her becoming more likely and ready to send her spiralling if she dwelled on the thought.

“Kyne! I found some tracks! They must have been nearby.” Kiara suddenly flew into her line of sight, grinning excitedly. She dragged her arm to quickly show her find, eyes flickering between Kyne and the paw prints for any type of reaction.

Kyne, without warning, shifted into her wolf form, wincing as she walked on her wounded paw but realising she could likely find where they had gone. She sniffed the tracks, jolting up at the familiar scent and racing towards it. Kiara followed closely behind, startled from how fast Kyne started to go when in her wolf form. The adrenaline stopped the throbbing pain in her paw for long enough to reach the end of the tracks, the scent still strongly hanging in the air. Kyne glanced around, not able to find anything to pin in the specific direction of her pack. Only aware they were close by.

A loud growl caught the pair’s attention as a wolf who was a lot taller than Kyne suddenly showed up. Kiara realised that Kyne was quite small for a wolf. She was fast, but a good deal smaller than her friend. She barely managed to hit Kiara’s waist in height. Although she had quite long legs it was smaller than the large, fearsome wolves she’d been told about in the past and it was starting to make sense.

The wolves let out a series of quick barks and growls, Kiara assumed they were having a conversation. It was amusing to watch unfold, Kyne continuing to speak with her hands even when a wolf, swishing her tail for emphasis while explaining something. She paused after a low growl from the other wolf, slowly plodding her way back to Kiara, sitting by her side and curling her tail around her legs.

“So, she’s bonded with you after a week?” The other wolf asked, eyeing up Kyne as her tail tightened around the fairy’s legs.

“Yes. I know it’s sudden but I can’t help but feel like I belong with her. I can’t deal with the thought of anything happening to someone this sweet, even if she is a bit rough around the edges.” Kyne glanced up at Kiara, who shot back a look of pure confusion. Her hands found their way to Kyne’s head. Ruffling up her fur before laughing at the mess she had made.

“Like you're not? You’re lying, your ears are twitching. Don’t hide it. You love her, that’s not exactly what I expected to see but at least you’re safe. I’ll tell the others what happened. I’ll miss you but I’m happy you found someone you belong with.”

Kyne froze as she realised the magnitude of everything she had insinuated. She was leaving her pack for a girl she hadn’t known for long. Was this really the right choice? One look at Kiara, more apprehensive than she would normally allow herself and she knew. It would take something drastic to separate them now. She had to stay.

Kyne nodded at the other wolf, letting them leave with a loud howl to communicate her feelings about the departure. It was bittersweet but she felt better with Kiara than in her whole life with the pack. Some things changed, she only hoped this was the right choice and that things would change for the better.

---

“So, you’re telling me you found an injured werewolf and now you’re her girlfriend?” The utter bafflement in Juice’s voice would normally make Kiara laugh, poking fun at her friend for being so dramatic. But the seriousness in her tone was something that made even her childhood friend stop and try to explain herself in the best way.

There was something different about the smaller fairy. Ever since she had been appointed leader, there was no more fun in her. The quiet, silly girl that played with her was long gone but the glimpses still came through. Juice’s stare was icy but it didn’t affect Kiara. It couldn’t, knowing all of Juice’s tricks to intimidate others into listening to her and respecting her authority. Although it made sense why she did it, the idea of her friend turning into someone she wasn’t hurt Kiara just a bit. Why couldn’t she just be happy for her?

“I know you’re serious about her, and I know you have good judgement. But these wolves are dangerous and having one around is a horrible idea.” There it was, the small glimpse of her old friend. Juice cared, she never stopped, but balancing her duty and feelings wasn’t something she knew how to do. Kiara knew this wasn’t the end of the conversation. She knew how to wear down the other fairy and quickly put her idea into action.

“You’ve never met her and you’re telling me she’s dangerous? You have no proof to back it up, Juicy.” The change of expression made Kiara know she’d gotten through. The nickname felt foreign on her tongue after a while of not being as close as they used to be. But Juice lost all her walls for a brief moment. Glancing away in defeat and nodding in agreement.

“Okay. If she’s that good to you then I won’t stop you. I just don’t want you getting hurt.” The softer voice made Kiara smile. There was her friend. She was happy for her under all the toughness. The concern was unwarranted but appreciated. Kiara smiled, offering to bring Kyne to Juice for them to meet properly. Despite the shock, Juice agreed, following Kiara to her house, where Kyne was still staying.

“Kyne! I want you to meet someone.”

Kyne’s face lit up at the arrival of the fairy, falling into something more neutral as she realised she wasn’t alone. The first thing she noticed about the pair was the height difference. Kiara easily towered over anyone but even Kyne was a good deal taller than her friend. Although she looked tiny, she had a serious aura that shook Kyne slightly. There looked to be a lot more to her than what she saw but now wasn’t the time to dig into that.

“This is Juice, she’s the leader I was telling you about.“ Kiara smiled, pulling the wolf and fairy over to each other to interact more. They could only stare at each other, neither wanting to say anything before the other. Kiara sensed the stalemate, acting quickly to break it before any complication arose.

“Kiki had a lot to say about you.” Juice muttered out after a lot of prompting. Her eyes were not connecting with Kyne as she spoke. If anything that made the werewolf feel better. At least she wasn’t the only introvert forced into conversation by Kiara.

“Good things I hope? Ki has a habit for being a bit more dramatic than necessary so I can’t say everything she said was fully true.” The tension broke as the pair laughed at the expense of the tall fairy. Although she couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed with the look of amusement on Kyne’s face as she laughed. It melted her heart to see her two favourite people getting along.

“She’s always been like that, when we were kids she would swear it was the end of the world if one of us got slightly hurt. But we love her in spite of that.” Juice smiled, relaxing slightly into accepting Kyne’s company without her normal icy exterior. They quickly fell into a conversation of Kiara’s embarrassing childhood moments and weird habits. Although it was specifically about her, Kiara didn’t mind as long as the two started to get along well. It made sense, there were similarities between Juice and Kyne. Namely being quite introverted and hiding their emotions from everyone apart from someone very close to them.

“Are you staying here now? I’m sure we can find a way to help you adapt to the village better if you need it.” At that offer, Kyne knew the change was for the better. Kiara was everything she needed and a new friend wasn’t such a bad thing. The future would bring a lot she wasn’t prepared for yet, but with Kiara at her side it felt like nothing could stop them. Not now, not ever.

[when-they-write-stuff]

Because I know you love your angst: “I’m fucking terrified and I don’t know what to do or how to stop feeling that way, okay? I’m scared…”

Stiles thought this pretty accurately summed up his life. 

The abduction and torture that was. The three weeks spent in darkness and the pain that just kept coming. Stiles felt like this was a pretty normal thing nowadays, much to his loathing.

The token human. The easily kidnappable sidekick.

Stiles Stilinski, ladies and gentlemen.

But then on day twenty-three, there was someone new thrown into the cell next to his.

Stiles didn’t actually see a face or a figure. He just heard the faint sounds of struggle, followed by what could only be growls, and then there was the sound of a door opening, a body hitting the floor, and the door slamming closed again.

Stiles winced, curled up in the corner of his cell. He fiddled with the strings of his hoodie and waited for the footsteps of the hunters to leave, not moving until he was sure they had. Only then did he glance up, cautiously creeping toward the iron wall of his cell and pressing a hand against it.

“Uh… hello?”

Silence was his answer. Stiles curled his fingers against the metal and felt his stomach sink.

“Scott? Liam? One of the other pups?”

He still didn’t get an answer, but Stiles could hear movement from the other cell. He sighed and drew back, curling in on himself again. He’d been here for long enough that he was tired of just about everything. And clearly, this wasn’t one of his friends. But that didn’t mean he had to take another supernatural’s shit.

“You could at least say something, you know,” Stiles said. “Since clearly the hunters have taken both of us and we’re probably in for the long haul. Although I’ve been here longer, so I get seniority.”

“... How long?”

Stiles furrowed his brows at the voice. It was hoarse and definitely male, and there was some part of him that felt like he recognized it. But no matter how hard Stiles wracked his brain, he couldn’t remember from where. Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him.

He’d spent over three weeks in the darkness, after all.

“Going in twenty days or so now.”

Stiles knew he heard a growl again. He tilted his head toward the wall of his cell and blinked, once more trying to figure out why it was so familiar. He couldn’t quite place where, but Stiles knew he wasn’t crazy. Or he was pretty sure, at least.

“Uh, random question, dude, but do you have a name?”

The darkness went still and a long moment of silence passed. Once more, Stiles didn’t get an answer. He sighed.

“Well, mine is Stiles. You know, just in case I die here and you’re the last person I end up talking to. Because I’d say I have extremely high hopes that my pack will come rescue me— I’m assuming you’re supernatural, by the way— but they’ve been severely lacking in capabilities lately. So I’m not really feeling too positive anymore.”

“You shouldn’t be telling strangers your name,” the man said after a second. “Or anything about yourself for that matter.”

“Hey,” Stiles half-joked. “We’re not strangers anymore, right? I mean, we’ve both been thrown into the darkness together, even though there’s a very rude wall currently separating us. I would say this is quite the bonding experience.”

“A bonding experience.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said. “Studies show that being abducted together makes for lifelong friendships. So, you want to tell me your name so I can put something to the face… err, voice?’

“You don’t want to know my name.”

Stiles blinked a few times at the wall. Then he moved closer and lowered himself to the floor, trying to see through the grates into the next cell. But all he could make out was a pair of black boots. He wrinkled his nose and rested his chin on his hands, letting out a long breath. “Don’t presume to know me, kind sir. I would love to know your name.”

“No, Stiles. You wouldn’t.”

It felt weird, hearing his name for the first time in three weeks. Whenever the hunters came in to interrogate him about Scott’s pack, they just called him ‘boy’ and kicked him around a lot. And they were the only voices he’d heard since he’d been taken from his jeep and thrown in here.

Maybe that’s why the voice of the grump next door sounded so familiar. Stiles’s brain was just trying to give a familiar face to anything except the hunters. 

“I’ll call you Miguel then,” Stiles said after a moment. “That’s usually my go-to nickname. It’s gotten me out of more tight spots before than you’d ever believe.”

He could’ve sworn he heard the man chuckle. “I don’t doubt it.”

Stiles smiled to himself and leaned against the wall. For some reason, even just imagining that there was someone on the other side only a few feet from where he sat comforted him. He felt a little less terrified. A little less alone. 

“Just a quick warning though,” Stiles said. “I talk a lot and ask way too many questions. Before this is all over, you might end up knowing about my entire childhood, all of my lifelong dreams, and every single person I’ve ever fallen in love with only to have my heart broken.”

Stiles heard a sharp intake of breath. His heart skipped a beat or two.

“Unless that’s not okay?”

“No,” Miguel said quietly. “No, that’s okay.”

“Oh good,” Stiles said with a grin. “Because you don’t seem like much of a talker. But that’s okay! I can promise to talk enough for the both of us and then probably some.”

“Have the hunters hurt you?”

The question was so sudden, Stiles’s smile dropped. He reached up and prodded underneath his jaw where one of the men’s knuckles had left a dark bruise only a few hours ago. It still hurt, although Stiles’s entire body hurt at this point. He felt like he’d been living throughout one giant ache these past three weeks.

Miguel seemed to be holding his breath. Stiles lowered his hand and debated either telling the truth or lying; he thought he’d heard fear in the man’s voice. So maybe he feared pain. Maybe he hadn’t experienced the hunters as often as Stiles had.

If that was true, he probably didn’t know what to expect. And Stiles found it hard to make himself tell him.

“No,” he lied. “No, I’ve been fine and dandy. A little lonely, you know, but now I have you! And remember what I said about abduction leading to lifelong friendships—”

“Stiles,” Miguel’s voice cut him off. “I can hear you lying.”

Stiles closed his mouth and slumped a little further into himself. He supposed that cleared up what kind of supernatural creature he was dealing with then, although Stiles had his suspicions from the beginning. “So you’re a werewolf then.”

“Yeah.”

“Bitten or born?”

Miguel didn’t answer. Stiles wet his cracked lips, running a hand through his hair.

“My friend was bitten, but he’s the current true alpha of the Beacon Hills pack. That’s where I’m from, you know. I don’t actually know where we are right now cause the hunters knocked me out pretty good, but I’m sure my friends are coming for me. Or at least, they’re going to try and come for me.”

Silence met his words. Stiles tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, desperately holding onto those words.

“I do believe in him, you know. He’s just… he’s not the same. Not the same as the alpha that used to live in Beacon Hills, that is.”

There was a sudden movement from the other cell. Stiles startled, but then he realized Miguel was only shifting around a little. Relaxing again, Stiles kept talking.

“But that guy has been gone for years now. Four, I think, but I don’t keep count.” Stiles hesitated and then scoffed. “That’s a lie, I totally keep count. I’m pretty sure I’ve counted every damn day since he decided to leave Beacon Hills. I mean… he wasn’t an Alpha when he did, but it still kind of sucks, you know? He kind of sucks.”

“I’m sorry.”

The man’s voice was soft and hoarse and Stiles was surprised at the shiver that ran down his spine at hearing it. He turned his face toward the wall. “Dude, why the hell are you apologizing? It’s not your fault he’s a jerk.”

“A jerk?”

“A jerk, a Sourwolf, a goddamn asshole. I mean, I didn’t ask him not to leave and I probably should have, but still, he left. He left and that was a shit move. No more visits, no more texts. He wasn’t even there when I— er, the pack— graduated. Kinda messed up, you know?”

For a moment he didn’t get an answer. Then there was a soft “I know” and Stiles sighed.

“Sorry, man, I warned you I’d be lamenting all my pains and woes. Hey! Wanna tell me a little bit about yourself? Gimme a favorite color.”

“... Red.”

“Red?”

“Red.”

“I mean, that’s legit,” Stiles said after a moment. Miguel didn’t actually ask the question back but Stiles decided to pretend that he had, furrowing his brows as he thought about his own answer. As if he didn’t already know. “I like red too. But also blue. Blue’s just pretty, you know?”

Stiles could’ve sworn he heard a chuckle. That made him smile a bit.

“So, are you a beta or an alpha? Cause some alpha powers right now would be seriously epic to get us out of this shit—”

“Omega.”

Stiles cut off mid-sentence, snapping his jaw shut. Internally, he cursed himself, and the silence reigned for a moment. Then he chuckled nervously. “Oh, that’s fine too. I mean, at least we got some werewolf muscles, right? I love me some werewolf muscles… that totally came out wrong.”

Stiles definitely heard a chuckle this time. He thought that counted as a win.

“Hey, so if I asked you how you got here—”

But before Stiles could finish his sentence there was a loud bang. He flinched and pulled into himself as the sound of footsteps echoing off the metal floors filled the air. Stiles couldn’t help the pit of dread that formed in his stomach, nor the panic that started to make his throat constrict.

He gasped for breath and buried himself in his hoodie. He’d been going through this for twenty-three days now and it still didn’t get any better. Stiles hated himself a little for the panic that rose up in his throat.

“Hey, hey! Stiles!” 

Stiles blinked a few times and spotted a hand reaching through the grates between their cells. He was reaching for it before he could even think and the feeling of another pulse point underneath his fingers was enough to make Stiles’s own heartbeats slow down a little. He gripped the man’s hand tightly and closed his eyes, chin tucked into his chest as he tried to catch calm, deep breaths.

But then he heard the door of Miguel’s cell open and the man’s hand was yanked away from his.

A whole new level of panic rose in his throat.

Stiles shoved himself up and scrabbled at the wall. The sounds of pained grunts and sharp, gasping breaths filled the air and Stiles couldn’t tell if they were Miguel’s or the hunters, but he had a pretty good idea. Moving toward the door of his own cell, Stiles slammed a fist against it and let loose a litany of curses, not even sure what exactly he was trying to accomplish.

“Hey, asshats, why don’t you try coming for the human, huh? That guy doesn’t know shit about the McCall pack but you know I’ve got all the info—”

He cut off as his cell door swung open and one of the hunter’s familiar faces sneered in. Stiles retreated a few steps back, his heart leaping into his throat, and tried desperately not to regret his words.

“Okay, hold up now, let’s talk about this—”

The hunter caught his arm and dragged him out of the cell and Stiles nearly sobbed at the sudden change of scenery. Daylight streamed from down the nearby corridor and glistened off the floors. Stiles hiccuped as his breaths caught in his throat, but instead of being dragged toward the light, he was pulled away from it.

Stiles barely resisted the urge to thrash and fight back, going limp in the hunter’s hold. The man dragged him into the adjoining cell, where two other hunters already waited, and Stiles didn’t raise his eyes until he was dropped to the floor, knees cracking on the cement.

And when he did look up, eyes meeting the grey-green ones of the man curled up in the cell’s corner, Stiles’s heart stopped.

Four years.

That was the first thought that entered his mind. 

It had been four years since Stiles had seen such a vivid grey-green color and it had been four years since he’d laid eyes on Derek Hale’s face. Even now, with blood running from a split lip and pain cracking through in his eyes, Stiles recognized Derek like the day he’d left Beacon Hills. He had a slightly scruffier beard, clothes that were ripped and hanging off of one shoulder, and lips twisted back in a grimace, yes, but it was him all the same.

Four years.

Stiles’s knees nearly buckled beneath him.

His second thought was Miguel and that really shouldn’t have made a humorless laughter bubble up in his throat. But Stiles couldn’t help wondering if he was seeing things. Because of all the people that he could’ve seen in the cell, Derek Hale wouldn’t have even made the list.

The hunter shoved him forward and Stiles sprawled to the floor near Derek’s side. The man snarled and tried to rise, but another kick to the ribcage had him doubling back over.

It was then that Stiles noticed the glowing blue bullet embedded in his arm. And the black lines creeping up his skin.

Stiles drew away, shying into himself. And if possible, Derek’s eyes cracked even more.

“The McCall alpha,” one of the hunters hissed, learning close to Stiles’s ear so the words tickled his skin. “Or the Hale mutt. You have twenty-four hours to decide.”

Stiles’s heart stuttered and the man laughed as he drew away. The door slammed as the three hunters filed out back out and as darkness fell over the cell, the silence returned once more.

There was no more sunlight.

Derek shifted with a soft groan and Stils scrambled away, back slamming into the opposite corner. The man looked at him quietly, one hand pressed to the wound in his arm, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Stiles—”

“Don’t.”

Derek’s face twisted. He tried to sit up even more but only groaned again, slipping back down to the floor. The cut on his lip wasn’t healing, Stiles noticed. His face was unnaturally pale. 

Stile’s stomach twisted and he felt nauseous. ‘Four years’ kept ringing through his head. Glancing down at his hands, Stiles unconsciously counted his fingers before feeling sick again. He had ten. There were ten.

This was real.

“Miguel,” Stiles scoffed, still staring at his hands. “Goddammit, Derek, I hate you so much.”

The man flinched. Stiles closed his eyes.

“How soon did you know?”

“The moment I caught your scent.”

“And if I would’ve died in that cell, would you have told me first?”

“Would you have wanted to know?”

Stiles clenched his teeth so hard they gnashed. He didn’t realize he was trembling until he was curled in on himself again; and it wasn’t from the cold. “Why, Derek?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you here?”

For a long moment, Derek didn’t answer. When Stiles opened his eyes again, the man’s gaze was fixed firmly on the floor. He looked shaky, fragile. Stiles couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized his voice before. He knew Derek. Or at least, he had four years ago.

But a lot of things had changed between eighteen-year-old Stiles and now. He’d done four years at MIT and then he’d done a summer of training underneath his dad’s section at the station. Though Stiles still didn’t know what the hell he wanted to do with himself, wandering aimlessly from thing to thing.

He’d graduated with a master’s in criminology. He kind of hated it.

He kind of hated everything about the past four years.

“How are you here, Derek?” Stiles asked again. “How the hell did you find me when my own pack couldn’t?”

Derek flinched. Stiles’s stomach twisted.

“Did Scott send you?”

“I haven’t been in contact with Scott since I left.”

“... Did my dad?”

Derek looked confused and Stiles shrugged, dropping his gaze again. 

“He doesn’t think very much of Scott’s pack anymore. I’d always thought he had outside contacts, but I could never be sure.”

“No, Stiles,” Derek said quietly. “Your father didn’t send me.”

Stiles looked at him pleadingly. Derek swallowed once more and then shifted again, face twisting in pain. When he glanced up, grey-green eyes glowed blue and Stiles felt it like a tug to the gut. Something latching around his chest and pulling.

“I just knew.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, Stiles.”

Stiles clenched his jaw and looked sharply away. Derek’s sharp breaths filled his ears like a ringing alarm and he realized suddenly that they were on a ticking clock. Twenty four hours or Scott’s pack.

Scott’s pack… his pack. The pack. Whatever it was, they were in trouble.

If he tried to save Derek’s life, that was.

As if the man could read his thoughts, Derek’s eyes flicked back up and he looked pained. But not just because of the bullet wound currently festering in his arm. His lips were cracked. Blood continued to dribble down his chin. “It’s okay, Stiles.”

Anger rushed up in Stiles’s throat. He was on his feet in a second.

“No, Derek, it’s not okay! None of this okay, dude, don’t you understand that? I’ve just been asked to choose between Scott’s pack and you. You, who I haven’t seen in four years and just admitted to thinking about nearly every other day? Do you understand how truly not-okay all of this is? I can’t be expected to choose, asshole! I can’t— I can’t—”

Stiles stumbled and slumped back to the floor again, pulling his knees into his chest. His entire body was shaking now.

“I just got you back. I can’t lose you again.”

Derek blinked at him. Stiles scoffed humorlessly and glanced at the man’s arm where the bullet was still glowing blue.

“Need me to attempt to cut that off for you, Sourwolf? Because I’ve grown and matured since we first met. I think I could attempt as long as it didn’t involve using my teeth or something.”

A rare smile tugged at the edges of Derek’s lips. “I thought you fainted at the sight of blood.”

“Only at the sight of a chopped off arm.”

Some of Derek’s smile faded. Stiles hesitated where he sat and then pushed himself back up and moved forward, sinking down next to Derek’s uninjured side. The man radiated heat like a furnace and Stiles couldn’t tell if that was the werewolf or the wound. He was scared to think that he might know that answer.

“We have twenty-four hours to get out of here, Sourwolf.”

“You’ll have longer than that.”

“No,” Stiles said, voice cracking. “No, because you’re not going to die and I’m not going to give you up. We figured it out the first time, Sourwolf, we can figure it out again.”

“The first time we weren’t trapped in a metal cell.”

“Yes, but the first time we were relying on Scott to come through.”

“And we’re not doing that now?”

Stiles’s smile slipped. He glanced down at his hands and realized the truth in Derek’s words. Except this time, he really didn’t think Scott was going to make it in time. And the choice to save Derek’s life was much more costly than it had been before.

“I could always tell them small things,” Stiles said softly. “Numbers maybe. I could make up names and—”

“If they realize you’re lying to them, they’ll kill you.”

“And if I give them what they want, they’ll most likely kill me anyway.”

Derek’s face tightened, but he didn’t argue with that. Stiles leaned against his shoulder and swallowed hard, still not quite able to believe that this was Derek. This was Derek next to him, the man Stiles had thought about for four years. The same man he’d tried so hard to forget.

He’d failed each time.

“I can’t lose you again,” Stiles said quietly. “Derek, you can’t ask me to do that.”

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles’s stomach clenched as he glanced over. Derek studied his face and then dropped his gaze, eyes flickering blue. 

“I was going to come back,” he murmured. “But then Scott had a pack and everything seemed to be going well—”

“Derek,” Stiles said. “Derek, what the hell do you think I was talking about earlier? Everything’s not going well. We could use you. We need you. ” Or maybe just Stiles needed him. But he was terrified to say that out loud.

“Stiles, I can’t go back to Beacon Hills.”

It hit like a blow to the chest. Derek blinked at him and Stiles slowly lowered his gaze, a knot forming in his throat. “Oh.”

 “Not because of you,” Derek said softly. “Not because there’s no longer anything left for me. But I’ve been traveling. Meeting other packs, sometimes going back to see Cora. I don’t have a pack in Beacon Hills anymore. I don’t... have a family.”

“And if you did?”

The words slipped out before Stiles could stop them. Derek gave him a startled look and Stiles dropped his gaze, silently cursing himself.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Nevermind.”

“Stiles—”

“Derek,” he said, cutting the man off. “Derek, I’m fucking terrified right now and I don’t know what to do or how to stop feeling that way, okay? I don’t know if we’re going to make it out alive or if we’re both going to die here. And I’m scared, but I don’t want—”

And suddenly, the man was kissing him.

It was gentle and cautious at first. But the moment Stiles pressed back, Derek was running his good hand through Stiles’s hair and pulling him in closer, kissing him like a drowning man searching for air. Stiles was pretty sure he’d made a sharp noise at the back of his throat but he couldn’t be sure. The only thing he could concentrate on was Derek; the smell of him, the taste, and the feel. 

Stiles had imaged Derek’s departure countless times. Maybe he would’ve moved forward and kissed the man before he could wish them goodbye. Maybe he would have tracked him down and dragged him straight back to Beacon Hills, refusing to let him leave.

And maybe… maybe he would have followed. Maybe he would’ve taken Derek’s hand and left with him, and the rest of the pack could’ve stopped to digest all of that.

Stiles was pretty sure they were going to die here. So he kissed the man with all his pains and regrets and tried to pretend they weren’t locked in a cell together, the ticking clock hanging right above their heads.

Stiles could feel it again. That tug in his gut, that rope around his heart. Pulling like he was a magnet and his landing place was only inches away. Derek felt like a place to meet in the middle. Derek felt like an anchor.

An anchor.

And maybe the complete opposite.

Stiles thought he could hear distant footsteps. The ringing of faraway doors opening and voices slowly growing nearer. Panic coiled in his stomach like the terror rising in his throat.

“Derek,” Stiles said, gasping around his lips. “Derek, I need you to do something for me. I need you to do something.”

The man nipped at his lower lip, mouth trailing down his neck. Stiles gasped and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling Derek closer to his skin. The man’s mouth lingered on the nape of his neck and Stiles gripped his hair tighter.

“Derek, do that. I need you to do that.”

He could feel hot breaths against his skin, Derek’s heartbeat pounding through his chest, and the man hesitating for a moment; waiting. Stiles made a low noise as the back of his throat and moved his hand down to cup the back of Derek’s neck.

“Derek, please.”

When teeth met the skin between Stiles’s neck and shoulder, they were gentle. Cautious. But then they got sharper, fangs elongating and sliding through skin. Stiles winced and tried to smother a small groan at the back of his throat, but he couldn’t quite. Derek tensed and Stiles rubbed a thumb over the back of his neck, tightening his hold a little.

The feeling in Stiles’s gut moved to coil in his stomach. Like fire racing through his veins, feeling blood trickle down his neck. Stiles closed his eyes and focused on it. Derek’s mouth left his shoulder and his nose traced up his neck, underneath his chin and when lips met his own again, Stiles could taste blood.

It hit him like a blow to the chest.

Stiles gasped and yanked back, hand-clapping to the wound on his neck. Derek startled too, pulling away and when Stiles’s eyes snapped back open, the man’s own flashed blue.

Derek’s lips parted, eyes widening a little. Stiles blinked at him and tried to talk, but his tongue felt heavy.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly. “Red.”

Red.

Voices filled the air. A door slammed, another one opened, and then light flooded into the cell. Stiles leaped up as the hunters moved forward but then the man coming at him froze. In his hands, the taser slipped and then dropped. He retreated a step backward.

“What the hell?”

“Twenty four hours,” Stiles said, stepping forward. The man’s face drained of blood and he stumbled back toward his friends. The air filled with the sound of guns cocking. “You really think you should’ve given us twenty-four hours?”

“Get back, boy.”

“I have a question,” Stiles said, leaning down to pick up the taser and turning it over in his fingers. “How much electricity can the human body take?”

“Put that down.”

“This,” Stiles said, wiggling it through the air. “Has fifty thousand volts. I wrote a paper once, you know. For fun. And most humans… most humans can’t take more than a hundred thousand. But that means this isn’t much use to you, doesn’t it?”

“Shoot him!”

Derek snarled from the side. Stiles looked at him, eyes flashing, and the man’s glowed blue in return. Stiles smiled, one word ringing through his ears.

Anchor.

He turned back toward the hunters right as the sound of loading guns filled the air, and Stiles dropped down, slamming a palm against the floor as sparks leaped off of his hand. They raced across the floor, rebounding off the metal walls, and actively sought out any beating heart in front of him.

Gunshots turned to shouts. Shouts turned to screams.

Blood roared through Stiles’s ears. Trickled down his shoulder. Dripped onto the floor, inches from his hand, and sizzled in the heat.

“Fifty thousand,” he murmured to himself, slowly lifting his eyes. “I’d say this is about five hundred thousand or so.”

By the time silence had fallen back over the cell, Stiles felt a little bit faint. The air smelled like burnt flesh and his sight was a little blurry. He still managed to rise to his feet, glancing over his shoulder, and Derek met his gaze with wide eyes.

But Stiles couldn’t find any fear in them. Just wild, dilated shock. He smiled a little and leaned shakily against the wall.

“Guess chopping off an arm won’t be necessary.”

“Stiles—”

The man moved forward but then collapsed, dropping to one knee. Stiles was rushed to his side before he could stop himself, his own world spinning a little. The lines of black had moved to creep up Derek’s neck and he hissed as he pressed a hand against the wound, face terrifyingly pale.

“Stiles, bullet—”

It hit him hard and Stiles scrambled sideways, shaking a wolfsbane bullet out of the nearest gun. He ripped the top off between his teeth, shook the powder into his hand, and then gave Derek an apologetic look before shoving his palm against the man’s wound.

Derek howled and arched into Stiles’s chest, face turning into his neck. Stiles pulled him close and they both sunk to the ground, until Derek’s panting died down to a soft gasp or two and his chest was no longer rising and falling so rapidly.

Stiles still held onto him, holding the man trembling in his arms. Derek whined softly at the back of his throat.

“That should do it.”

“You’re okay?”

“Other than the agonizing pain?”

“Well,” Stiles said, chuckling a little. “The ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek huffed. Stiles grinned.

“So, I guess we’re not relying on Scott to come through.”

The man stilled. Derek turned his head and glanced up to search his face. Stiles nervously wet his lips and Derek dropped his gaze again. “I still can’t come back to Beacon Hills, Stiles.”

“Because—”

“Pack, Stiles. I’m not part of Scott’s pack. I don’t think I’ll ever want to be.”

Stiles held him for a moment longer. Then he leaned forward and touched his lips against the man’s forehead and when Derek glanced back up again, Stiles smirked. Sparks danced over his fingers and his eyes flashed; Derek’s glowed blue in return. The man swallowed, his words coming out in a hoarse whisper.

“Red, Stiles.”

“And you know blue’s just pretty.”

“Stiles—”

“Come back,” Stiles said. “Derek, come back for me.”

The man studied his face for a moment longer. And then once more, Derek was kissing him, no hesitation or cautiousness to it this time. Stiles chuckled at the back of his throat, making the man growl. One hand tangled through Derek’s hair. Another cupped the back of his neck.

Stiles could’ve sworn he heard the word ‘Alpha’ whispered behind Derek’s mouth. His heart skipped a beat or two.

Twenty-four days, a handful of dead hunters, and one slight love confession later, Stiles saw daylight again. Derek leaned against his side, Stiles bit back a soft sob, and the dawning sun tipped on the horizon, hints of scarlet and blue coloring the sky.

Stiles had thought this all pretty accurately summed up his life a few weeks ago. The abduction and torture that was. He felt like this was a pretty normal thing nowadays, much to his loathing.

But not anymore. There was no token human. No easily kidnappable sidekick. There was the boy and his wolf. The spark and the omega.

Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale.

- -

This was planned at 1k-2k words. Then it became 5k. I completely blame the prompt but I honestly had so much fun with it ;)

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer