Sterek, 20: things you said that I wasn't meant to hear
So this didn’t go they way I expected but, I hope you like it!
Stiles was tired and cold when he awoke. He trembled slightly as he sat upright, blinking slowly as he came to his senses. He looked around slowly, pressing a hand to his head in attempt to stop the dull throbbing.
“Hello?” Stiles called out shakily, “Dad?”
He could feel the anxiety bubbling up, ready to take hold of him at any moment. He tried to even his ragged breaths. He was in the woods, he knew that much but, how he got there, he hadn’t the foggiest. He eased himself up, using the nearby stump for support. He stood on shaky legs, and looked around frantically. His heartbeat was echoing in his ears, drowning out any sounds.
He stumbled back, tripping over a branch. He blinked harshly pressing his hands to his temples, “Derek?” He cried out.“They won’t be able to help you,” A voice sounded through the fog in his mind, whispering hauntingly.
Stiles slammed his eyes shut, willing the voice away. When he forced himself to open his eyes, he was a dimly lit room with no windows and no doors. He was standing in front of a mirror with a jagged crack running across the middle. His lip trembled as he looked at his reflection, watching it morph into a sinister version of himself.
“Get out,” Stiles whimpered, “Get out of my head,” He begged, clenching his fists tightly.
His reflection smiled, a cruel and twisted imitation of his own, before vanishing.
Stiles opened his eyes slowly, a strange feeling of relief washing over him when he realized that he was still in the woods. Stiles stood once more, and started stumbling through the trees. The last thing he remembered was seeing the bobbing beam of a flashlight through the branches, and Derek’s voice calling out for him.
“What the hell was my son doing out there alone?” The sheriff demanded. “I don’t know, John,” Derek snapped, “Look we’ll figure it out,” Derek added softly, squeezing the sheriffs shoulder.
Stiles opened his eyes, and stared blankly at the ceiling. The pack surrounded the cold steel table in Deaton’s office, as they watched Stiles’ unmoving form.
“Something’s not right,” Derek noted seriously, stepping in front of the sheriff, “He smells wrong,”
Stiles sat up eerily slow. His once warm eyes were cold, and flat, accented by the bruises under his eyes. His eyes scanned the room, before finally landing on Derek.
“He talks a lot about you, you know?” His voice echoed strangely, as a cold smile grew on his face, “I have to say, I’m quite underwhelmed,” He said slowly.
Derek frowned, watching the boy closely, his pack surrounding him, alert, “Stiles,” He said warily.
“Stiles,” The boy mocked, “It’s a shame Kate didn’t kill you when she had the chance.” Derek flinched at the words, not noticing how Stiles smile grew as he landed the blow.
“Son,” The sheriff scolded, stepping around Derek.
Stiles laughed darkly, rotating his body to sit on the edge of the table, “Now you want to be a parent? You’re pathetic, you left us when we needed you most. We had to raise ourself, while you got black out drunk every night,” Stiles said bitingly, “Mom would be disgusted,” he spat.
“Stiles, this isn’t you,” John whispered, fingers twitching for his gun.
“Are you going to shoot us, Dad?” Stiles taunted, tracking his fathers movements, “Come on, do it. I killed mom, after all.” Stiles slid off the table, landing softly on his feet. He stood in front of the sheriff, locking eyes with him. “I know you want to,” he urged.
“I would never kill my own son,” the sheriff said, clenching his jaw.
“What if I told you, I wasn’t your son?” Stiles asked, tilting his head.
“John, don’t,” Lydia whispered, as the sheriff unholstered his gun.
“Come on,” Stiles smirked, as John raised the gun, leveling it at Stiles head. Stiles laughed gleefully, “Do it,”
John’s eyes watered, as he looked into his son’s lifeless eyes, watching them morph in fear and confusion.
“Dad?” Stiles asked confused, “What are you doing?” He looked around frantically, his eyes were glassy, and his heart thundered in his chest. “Derek, help me,” he pleaded, his fingers twitching in Derek’s direction.
“John, stop,” Derek shouted, “Put it down!” He demanded, putting himself between Stiles and the gun.
“That’s not my son,” John ground out, “Move, Derek,”
“Derek, why is he saying that?” Stiles asked wrapping his cold hand, around Derek’s bicep, “It’s me, Derek, it’s me,” Stiles whimpered from behind Derek’s back.
“I know my son!” John shouted, “Now, move. I won’t tell you again,” he said fiercely, cocking the hammer.
“Stop!” Allison shouted from behind Scott, “It’s what he wants,” She said, her eyes wide.
Stiles chuckle echoed the room, as his grip tightened around Derek’s arm. Derek turned his head to look at Stiles, hurt and betrayal shining in his eyes.“Stiles,” he whispered, “Get out of him,” Derek demanded, his fangs dropping.
Stiles grip tightened, “Pathetic,” He spat as he twisted Derek’s arm. Derek roared in pain as his arm snapped, and Stiles threw him aside.
“I know what you are,” Allison said, stepping forward, “I’m not afraid of you,” She said confidently.
“And what am I?” Stiles prompted darkly.
“Nogitsune,” she spat.
While Stiles looked surprised, she threw one of her daggers, “Now!” She shouted as the blade imbedded itself Stiles shoulder. The sound of Lydia’s chants and Stiles’ screams echoed the small room.
Erica rushed forward, shoving the table out of the way as Stiles eyes rolled back, she caught him gently, easing him to the ground he twitched violently. Derek crawled forward, placing his bunched up jacket under the boys head. Erica gently turned Stiles on his side, listening to his heartbeat until he stopped seizing.
“It’s okay,” She soothed, “You’re at Deaton’s, you’re safe,” She whispered, tenderly brushing the hair out of his face as he came to.
“Derek?” Stiles asked frantically, trying to sit up. Erica shushed him gently, and guided him back down, “I didn’t mean it,” He whispered, “It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me,” He repeated.
“We know,” John comforted as he knelt down, squeezing Stiles’ hand.
“I didn’t mean it,” Stiles whispered, burying his head in his fathers shoulder, “Does he hate me?” Stiles asked, brokenly.
“No, son, he doesn’t hate you,” He said reassuringly, glancing at Derek who was now standing by the door, eyes wide. John nodded at Erica in thanks, before focusing on his son once more.
Stiles sniffled and looked up at John with terrified eyes. He sat back and began to count his fingers, “Dad?” He said trembling, “Do you hate me?” he asked sadly.
“No, I could never hate you,” John said sternly, pulling Stiles into a hug.
Stiles itched at the bandage around his shoulder. A few days had passed and Stiles had gotten visits from the whole pack, aside from Derek. His heart ached when he got on a knock on the door and Derek wasn’t standing on the other side.
“Dad,” Stiles called out, as John passed by his bedroom.
“Yeah?” John said, concern washing over his face as he entered Stiles’ room.
“I remember what I said,” Stiles said sitting on the end of his bed, “And what I did,”
“I know son, you apologized, already,” John interrupted gently, “We know it wasn’t you,” John said kneeling in front of Stiles.
“I know but, Derek left,” Stiles said quietly, “I don’t blame him,” Stiles smiled shakily, “I tried calling him, Dad. He’s ignoring me, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s scared of me. I didn’t mean what I said, and I didn’t want to hurt him. I was there the whole time, and I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t stop any of it. I could see what was happening, and I was screaming,” Stiles sniffed, angrily wiping his tears, “I was begging it to stop, but it wouldn’t. It kept taunting me, and I don’t want to lose anyone else. I don’t want him to get hurt,”
“You really care about him, huh?” John asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah, I do,” Stiles confirmed shakily, “Are you disappointed in me?” Stiles asked, looking at John as he worried his lip.
“For what?” John asked, his brows furrowing in confusion, “Why would I be disappointed?” John asked moving to sit beside Stiles.
“Because, I think I like Derek,” Stiles murmured.
“Stiles, you’re my son. I’ll always love you, no matter what,” John responded, hugging Stiles tightly. “I have to go to work,” John stated with a disappointed frown, “I can call in,” He said to himself.
“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head, “I’ll be okay,” He said standing up wiping his eyes.
“Stiles,” John said concerned.
“I’ll call you if I need anything, I promise,” Stiles interrupted, smiling bravely, “I’ll be okay, Dad,”
John nodded, his face set in a frown, “Call me if you need anything, Stiles. I mean it,”
Stiles nodded watching his dad leave, “Be safe, dad!” Stiles called as the front door slammed shut.
Stiles jumped as a soft knock resounded from his window, he whirled around breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Derek perched on the roof outside his window. Stiles blinked tears away quickly, heart sinking at Derek’s impassive face. Stiles walked sullenly over to the window, unlocking it, and pushing it open.
Derek climbed into Stiles room, closing the window behind him. They stood, watching each other for a moment before Derek finally spoke, “I just came to see how you were doing,”
“I’m fine,” Stiles said, scratching the back of his awkwardly, “How much did you hear?” Stiles asked, impassively.
“All of it,” Derek answered guiltily. “I’m sorry,” Stiles blurted, “If you just give me time, I’ll get over it. I wont annoy you with my feelings. I’m sorry, Derek. I don’t know how it happened, but I won’t tell anyone, I promise! I can keep my mouth shut, I know you don’t think so but, I can. I don’t want to embarrass you, okay? I just… I just want to be friends at least, if it’s not weird for you? If it is I understand. I know if I were you I wouldn’t want a spastic loser like me around, let alone having a crush on me,” He rambled, heart breaking with each word.
“You’re not a loser,” Derek scolded, “Stiles, I like you, too,” Derek added hastily before Stiles could doubt himself more.
Stiles gaped for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, “That’s not funny,” He said, hurt and humiliation souring his scent.
“It wasn’t a joke,” Derek said seriously, closing the gap between them, “Do I seem like the type of person who would do something that cruel?” Derek asked, honestly.
Stiles shook his head, averting his eyes. Derek reached out slowly, cupping Stiles cheeks in his hands, “I like you a lot,” Derek whispered earnestly.
Stiles red rimmed, warm eyes scanned Derek’s face, before settling on his lips. Derek leaned in slowly, giving Stiles a chance to back away, before kissing him softly. Stiles fisted his hands in Derek’s shirt pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss.
When they pulled apart, Stiles lifted Derek’s hand anxiously, and began counting his fingers. Derek watched him count with his forehead resting against Stiles’.
“You’re real,” Stiles sighed, relieved. His eyes flicked up to look at Derek through his lashes. Derek smiled softly, pulling Stiles into his chest. Stiles breathed in Derek’s scent, letting Derek surround him completely.
Being with Stiles felt right, in a way that nothing else could, and Derek let his eyes slip closed as they stood, embracing each other tightly. He would let himself have this, as long as Stiles would have him.
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