#ash usually hangs out in the back of the clinic and while shes drawing in her sketchbook you can usually hear her singing softly

[silverselfshippingchaos]

I think my favorite piece of C.yberpunk Ash lore (other than the fact that she wrote J.ohnny S.ilverhand fanfiction as a teenager) is that V.iktor has developed a bit of a hatred towards Us Cracks because Ash is ALWAYS listening to their stuff

[eternalstereksecretsanta]

I'd Choose You

Yoshifics | AO3 |  Yoshi, I hope this gift finds you well and that you’re having a lovely holiday season! Enjoy!

“Mating bo-” Stiles stammers, looking between the vet and the silent werewolf in the room. “W-what do you mean mating bond?”

“Your spark has bonded with Derek’s wolf,” Deaton says, nodding towards Stiles’s chest before looking at Derek. “I noticed it when I first realized you possessed a spark and it’s grown significantly since.” 

“Dude, no.” Stiles shakes his head, flushing all the way down his neck. “I would know if there had been any ‘mating’, ok? And there hasn’t been. No mating here.”

Deaton sighs. “A mating bond doesn’t necessarily mean coupling, Stiles. It means that a connection has been established between two people, usually both wolves.”

“I’m not a wolf.”

Nearly a year ago, he’d been standing in this same spot – just through the window in Stiles’ room. Derek knows it hadn’t been fair for him to seek Stiles out that night or any night thereafter, but something had changed when he’d come barreling through that window seeking answers only Stiles could give. Something fundamental.

Derek shuts his eyes against the memory of the dejection that had lingered in Stiles’ scent. The discolorations on his face. Still, even after Gerard had beaten him, Stiles didn’t back down in the face of the alpha’s rage. He had looked Derek right in the eye and told him he hadn’t been part of the plot to manipulate Derek’s body to bite Gerard. The truth had pounded through him right along with the steady beat of Stiles’ heart.

It was the first night he’d held Stiles in his arms, held him and just watched him sleep. Stiles had been so keyed up he didn’t even protest. He clung to Derek, even in his sleep, seemingly needing the connection as much as Derek had in that moment.

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice is rough with sleep and he hasn’t even opened his eyes. Derek shifts away from the cool glass of the window at his back and walks through the pool of moonlight leading to Stiles’ bed.

“It’s me.” He answers quietly, grasping the hand Stiles has reached out, blindly searching for him. He can tell that Stiles isn’t really awake, but hovering somewhere between dreams and reality. It doesn’t matter. Even though it’s happened with increasing regularity in the time that’s passed since that first night, the routine of it hasn’t changed. Derek slips in through the window, gathers Stiles in his arms, and they both sleep. He’s gone before sunrise and they never talk about it. No more, no less.

He can’t put his finger on why tonight feels so different, beyond nostalgia, and not the good kind. Because there are bruises on Stiles’ face again. The pack had come face to face with a witch, and one of the werewolves she used to help her attempt to steal several priceless books from Deaton’s library had left his mark on Stiles. Derek can feel his eyes burn red remembering the fist that connected with Stiles’ face.

It had taken Boyd, Isaac, and Scott to pull Derek off the man.

“What’re you doin’, sourwolf?” Stiles lifts his head up off the pillow, squinting through the eye that’s not swollen, and tugs on Derek’s hand.

Derek releases Stiles long enough to take off his leather jacket and his shoes before sliding under the covers that Stiles is holding back for him.

“I wondered if I’d see you tonight.” Stiles whispers, once he’s settled firmly against Derek, face tucked against Derek’s chest.

Derek feels the tension in his body bleed away with every beat of Stiles’ heart pressed so close to his own. He clears his throat. “Wanted to make sure you’re ok.”

Stiles hums, wiggling around, and lifting his head to give Derek a sleepy grin. “Much better now.”

Without a thought, Derek lifts his head and presses his lips to the corner of Stiles’. Just a brief, electric touch, before he pulls Stiles back down to his chest. “Go to sleep Stiles.”

*

One month later…

“You’re sure he headed to the preserve?” Scott is saying into his phone when they hit another pothole, jostling them both and causing Scott to brace himself against the jeep’s dash.

The moon is high and full, peeking out from around dark clouds, sending intermittent beams of silver light pouring through the windshield as Stiles downshifts, cranking the wheel around a series of curves. He can hear the high edge of Lydia’s voice as she fires off information to Scott. It’s Jackson’s first supermoon since his transformation from kanima to werewolf nearly a year ago. His control has improved and most moons there’s no need to restrain him. This moon, however, has all the wolves on edge and the kanima still lurking in Jackson’s veins closer to the surface than ever and he’s somehow broken out of his bonds.

“Lydia, we’ll find him.” Scott reassures before he hangs up and tells Stiles where to go. “Derek and Isaac are waiting for us in that clearing near the north trail. They’ve got some of Jackson’s hair. Think you can pull off a locator spell?”

Stiles feels his heart jump, hopes that Scott will take it as nerves. “U-uh, yeah,” he swallows. “I think so.” He hasn’t seen Derek since that night in his bedroom a month ago unless some particularly vivid dreams count. The thought has his blood quickening in his veins.

The jeep’s headlights slice through the darkness of the clearing ahead, illuminating two figures standing in it’s center. Stiles throws the jeep in neutral and sets the brake. He grabs the things he’ll need for the spell from the supply back he always keeps in the back seat before he and Scott jump out and make their way over.

Derek turns to them immediately, eyes sweeping over Stiles before settling on Scott. “Erica and Boyd are already out tracking him. We need to find him before he gets out of Hale territory. Go with Isaac. I’ll stay with Stiles while he does the spell.”

Scott glances to the side, catching Stiles’ eyes.

“Go,” Stiles agrees. “I’ll work as quick as I can.”

Isaac and Scott disappear into the trees and Stiles realizes how quiet it is. Like the woods around them know what’s out lurking tonight and have gathered a collective breath waiting for the wolves to depart. He pulls a small bottle of mountain ash and a folded map of the Preserve from the pocket of his hoodie and sits down crossed legged spreading the map on the ground in front of him. He does not look at Derek.

After he has commanded the ash into a circle around the map, he looks up to find the wolf watching him from barely a foot away. “Do you have his hair?”

Derek takes that last step, closing the distance between them and squats down beside him. It’s only then that Stiles can see how tense the wolf is, see the tendons straining in his neck. He drops the baggie with several short blonde hairs inside onto Stiles’ palm without even the smallest brush of their skin, but Stiles feels the proximity like an electric shock.

“You know,” Stiles says, dumping the hairs into his palm, “a month ago, I would have struggled with this spell. But now,” he flicks his hand and the hair floats, suspended above the map, “it’s like breathing.” He feels his eyes light up, knows the honey brown of his irises has gone silver to match the moonlight. The fine strands ignite, burning to ember then swirling down and settling in a ring over a tiny spot on the map.

“That’s a cave,” Derek says, pulling out his phone and firing off a text. The screen lights up in his palm a few moments later even as a howl carries on the wind and Derek deflates. “They found him.”

“Do you need to go?” Stiles asks, quietly.

Derek meets his eyes before throwing his head back in an answering howl. The sound sings through Stiles’ body, leaves him staring, open mouthed and heart hammering in his chest.

“You told them to take him home. How did I know that?”

Derek turns his gaze back to Stiles, scans over his face, eyes pausing where a little scab still clings just above his eye. “You’ve healed.”

“Derek.”

The wolf growls and stands, taking a deliberate step back. “I don’t know what you want from me, Stiles.”

“How about the truth, for starters!” Stiles surges to his feet, anger swirling in his gut. “What the hell is this?” He makes a flailing motion between the two them.

“It’s nothing,” Derek says just as a cloud shifts, rolling away, and letting the full face of the moon shine on them. And there it is, plain for Stiles to see. A pale thread, revealed in moonlight, stretching from him to the alpha. He hears Derek draw in a startled breath, looks up to see him take a halting step back.

“I have to go,” the wolf says not meeting Stiles’ eyes. “Scott’s almost back. Don’t stay out tonight. It’s not safe.” Derek turns and disappears among the trees.

Stiles is still staring at the spot where Derek broke the tree line, pale thread stretching and flickering, when Scott comes jogging out of the woods a few minutes later. Scott runs right through the thread without so much as a glance at it.

“Jackson’s ok,” Scott says, panting, “but we should go. It’s probably just this moon, but something about the woods doesn’t feel right tonight.” Scott’s still got his wolf face on, eyes shifting left and right.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.” The wind picks up, clouds rolling over the moon like a shroud, blinking out the pale thread still stretching from Stiles’ heart as if it had never been.

*

Two days later, Stiles walks through the door of the vet clinic for his weekly training session and stops in his tracks. Derek is leaning on the wall beside the mountain ash partition that separates the reception area from the rest of the office. Their eyes meet and hold.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks, irritation coloring his voice.

Derek straightens up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Deaton called. Said he needed to speak with me.”

“Oh, so it’s just my calls you ignore?”

Derek turns his face away, a muscle in his jaw flexing. Stiles has tried to call him no less than six times since the full moon, not to mention all the texts. He opens his mouth, venom on the tip of his tongue when a throat clearing draws his attention.

“Mr. Stilinski. Mr. Hale. Thank you for coming,” Deaton says, opening the rowan wood door and motioning them through.

Derek nods and walks to the back. Stiles huffs, considers turning right around and storming back out the door. Curiosity and Deaton’s raised eyebrow have him biting his lip, feet carrying him in the direction Derek had just gone.

*

“Mating bo-” Stiles stammers, looking between the vet and the silent werewolf in the room. “W-what do you mean mating bond?”

“Your spark has bonded with Derek’s wolf,” Deaton says, nodding towards Stiles’s chest before looking at Derek. “I noticed it when I first realized you possessed a spark and it’s grown significantly since.”

“Dude, no.” Stiles shakes his head, flushing all the way down his neck. “I would know if there had been any ‘mating’, ok? And there hasn’t been. No mating here.”

Deaton sighs. “A mating bond doesn’t necessarily mean coupling, Stiles. It means that a connection has been established between two people, usually both wolves.”

“I’m not a wolf.”

“No, you’re not, but you are a spark, presumably on your way to becoming an emissary. It’s rare, but it wouldn’t be the first time such a bond has formed.”

Stiles turns to Derek, who hasn’t said a word since they entered this back room. “Are you buying this? I mean, this is crazy, right?”

Derek’s face is shuttered, impassive, and he holds Stiles’ gaze for only a moment before turning to Deaton. “How will this affect him?”

The vet sighs. “You’ll both continue to see improved strength as the bond grows. Things will mostly remain as they are. Still, it could prove dangerous for him.”

Derek is nodding, like he already knew that part.

“What the fuck is going on?” Stiles explodes, frustration bursting the dam of his self-control. To his surprise it’s Derek that answers.

“We’re connected Stiles. That thread you saw? It’s a visual manifestation of the bond. Stretching between your spark and my wolf. Only you and I can see it and only under the light of a full moon. The bond makes us both stronger, but it opens up certain weaknesses too. This is Beacon Hills, Stiles. There will always be some enemy to fight off. If any of them knew you’re my mate they could seek to exploit that.”

If any of them knew you’re my mate. Stiles feels lightheaded, takes a step back until his hip hits the edge of the stainless steel examination table.

“I think I hear a customer up front,” Deaton says into the silence. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Derek takes a step forward, hand outstretched, but stops himself. For some reason it makes Stiles laugh, humorless as it may be.

“You’ve never hesitated to get up in my space.” Stiles braces his hands on the edge of the table behind him. “What does this mean Derek? How…how did this happen? Was it when you kissed me?”

Derek visibly flinches. “I don’t know, Stiles. It wouldn’t have been just one thing.” He pulls in a deep breath. “It probably started right here, in this room, when I was shot.”

“You think…all those times, us saving each other and…” Stiles hesitates, shrugging one shoulder. “The whole sleeping thing?”

“Yeah.” Derek looks tired.

“So, what do we do now? I mean, everything I’ve read in the lore about mating makes it seem like kind of a permanent deal and I-”

“We’ll figure out how to manage it.”

“Manage it? Wow, ok.” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest.

Derek looks pained, and doesn’t seem to have a reply. Silence stretches between them until Stiles can’t stand it. He sighs and tries to find some neutral ground. “Jackson seems to be doing ok since the supermoon.”

Taking a tentative step forward, Derek leans against the table beside Stiles. “Yeah. He was able to get himself back under control enough that night not to attack any of us. I’m just glad he didn’t run into anyone else out in the woods.”

“You know, mate or not, I’m in the pack. That’s not changing. So, your enemies,” Stiles shifts, pressing a finger against Derek’s shoulder and then against his own chest. “-are already my enemies.”

Derek sighs and drops his head forward, closing his eyes. “I know.”

Stiles watches Derek’s profile, the muscle ticking in his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes. “When’s the last time you slept? Really slept?”

Derek shifts his weight. “I caught a couple hours last night.”

It pings something in Stiles’ chest to hear it, to see Derek looking so worn down. Is this what being mates is like? He shakes his head. The idea still so foreign he doesn’t think it’s really set in yet.

“Derek.”

Derek meets his eyes, but only for an instant before lowering his gaze and starting to step away.

“No,” Stiles says, reaching out and grabbing two handfuls of Derek’s jacket on either side of the wolf’s waist. He knows Derek could break away if he wanted, but he has to try to get some answers before Derek disappears again. “Will you just talk to me for a minute? Why haven’t you been coming over? Is it…is it really that bad that we’re mates? I thought-” Stiles shakes his head and falls silent, a boulder of insecurity and sorrow lodging firmly in his throat.

“What?” Derek stops leaning away and pulls Stiles to him. He slips his arms around Stiles’ back and seems to hesitate for only a second before burying his nose in the crook where Stiles’ neck meets his shoulder. “It’s not bad that we’re mates Stiles, but you can’t be okay with this. You didn’t even have a choice in it.”

Stiles pulls back just far enough to look at him. “And you did?” When Derek won’t meet his eyes, Stiles grips Derek’s stubbled chin and pulls.

Derek exhales and lifts his head. “If you were a wolf, I knew that some of things between us could build a bond like this. I didn’t know that it could happen with you being a spark, Stiles. I swear. But I’d be lying if I said I was upset that it happened. I’m sorry for that.”

Stiles takes in the flash of guilt in Derek’s eyes, the way his jaw hardens like he’s bracing for Stiles’ freak out. And maybe Stiles should freak out, but at the end of the day, his best friend is a werewolf, Stiles himself is a spark, he’s part of a werewolf pack, he’s got college coming up in a couple months, and every night when he lays down to go to sleep the last thing he hopes before he closes his eyes is that Derek will be there when he wakes up again.

“Don’t be sorry. Please. I mean, it’s a lot to take in, but I’m not upset.” Stiles licks his lips, a hot flush blossoming on his cheeks. “I would have chosen this, you know.” He looks up and locks his eyes with Derek’s. “I would have chosen you. When you break it down, I did choose you. Because I wouldn’t change any of it.”

“Stiles…”

“Think you might kiss me again while I’m fully awake?” Stiles grins while the tips of Derek’s ears turn pink.

“You were awake.” Derek says, petulant, but he leans in anywhere and presses his forehead to Stiles’. “You’re sure?”

Stiles nods and decides to take matters into his own hands. He leans in and seals his lips over Derek’s. There’s no hesitancy when Derek kisses him back - only a fierce, claiming surety and Stiles comes out the other side feeling like his soul has been branded. It’s not just his anymore. It’s theirs.

“So, I guess you won’t have a terrible amount of questions for me, afterall?” Deaton says from the door, a knowing grin on his face as he backs back out of the room, closing the door behind him.