#raine suffers through hey melissa

[rainedroptalks]

Okay I know Melissa’s the weirdo here but also Freddie’s terrible i don’t like him

[dylinski]

Come Back Home

Warnings: angst with happy ending, smut (vanilla), language, vomiting, seizure, lots of kissing, fighting

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale

Word Count: 10465

Author: @dylinski​

A/N: so, i spent six months on this lol. i also haven't written anything in three months so yay! let’s just hope i can stay in the groove and keep my muse. ☺️ this is also a submission for sterek bingo 2020

Derek walked into the seedy motel room, the sound of panging rain echoing through the small space. He collapsed on the bed exhaustedly, not bothered to remove his soused clothes. He let out a distressing grunt and winced in pain from shifting in bed, forgetting he had been wounded. There wasn’t much concern for it since abnormally rapid healing was expected, so he let sleep take him willingly despite his discomfort.

It had been like this for months now, the endless cycle of wasting his day away chasing his demons and passing out in a shady rented room to do it all again the next. He found comfort in this, or at least a numbness from all the memories he was hopelessly trying to suppress. It kept his thoughts occupied and he was always too engrossed or depleted to allow his mind to wander without his consent. Unfortunately, he had even less control over the slumberous plane versus his conscious one.

Dreams were never a relative concept to Derek since they customarily failed to linger after he opened his eyes. He could always feel the essence of the illusions of sleep, but that would soon dissipate as well. There was always that one nagging feeling in his abdomen that he could faintly feel albeit his attempts to choke it down. Always there, always lingering, to the point that he thought he might feel empty without it.

Typically, when suffering from a nightmare, Derek would wake suddenly and still as if he were petrified. No screaming, no cold sweats, no rapid heartbeat. As if he had been given a dose of kanima venom, his body found no reaction to the terrors that absconded once his lids flew open. So what made tonight different? What suddenly changed in him, allowing everything he had spent months taking apart to force itself back together, pulling like a magnetic field until it was recognizable?

Derek sat up violently in bed, his eyes flashing blue in the stark black of the room as it was riddled with the sounds of panting and a rapid heartbeat. Being a werewolf meant the muscle in his chest was already accelerated, with the rate at which it thumped now could end in sudden cardiac failure for anyone without supernatural aptitudes. He sucked air through his teeth at the sudden jerky motion upwards, instinctively bringing a hand to his stomach. Through the darkness, he could see his fingers laced with blood. Temporarily sidetracked, he jumped from the bed and flicked on the light switch, shielding his eyes at the abrupt flooding of brightness.

Derek lifted his shirt up while standing in front of the rancid sink and mirror to reveal the bullet wound that had befallen him earlier that night. He peeled off his shirt, raising his arms slowly as the pain began to radiate through his body in hopes to examine the spot more easily. Pulling the skin back, it appeared that his injury had not only failed to improve but began to deteriorate. A rush of horror made his stomach jump, nausea overcame him, knocking him to his knees as he emptied his belly into the toilet. Leaning back, he wiped the corner of his mouth and rested his head against the cold linoleum walls of the bathroom.

With his eyes closed, all the images he suffered during his slumber came rushing back, and a sting like being stabbed repeatedly manifested where he was starting to bleed again. Sitting on the floor, distraught and terrified, he let a single tear cascade down his cheek as he clasped at the lesion in his side. What was happening? The inability to recover physically was pushing his body to its barriers mentally, assuming that was what was happening here. He took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly, preparing to shut his lids and face what was haunting his mind. There were flashes of memories and voices, but nothing concrete, like a puzzle that was still trying to piece itself back together.

Derek knew exactly what his subconscious was trying to communicate, exactly what recollection he had thoroughly stored away in the recesses of his mind. Regardless, he was able to call upon the record of his life. He drew in deeply as the breath hitched in his lungs, holding back the hot tears that were brimming in his eyes. It probably should have been archived as a happy memory, that moment in someone's life that alters their course and turns their world on its head, which it was, but being Derek wasn’t an exact science.

***

The large metal door flew open with a loud clang, reverberating through the large loft, as Derek swung it open. His arms were full, carrying the lanky boy, hooking his legs over his arm while wrapping his other around his back and under his shoulders. “Derek! I said I’m fine, okay? Just put me down!”

“No.”

The freckle-faced boy slacked his jaw and glinted in distaste while Derek avoided eye contact, focused on the task at hand. The boy grunted in defiance and tried to wiggle out of his arms, but Derek tightened his grip making it almost impossible without supernatural strength of his own. “Jesus, Derek. Why are you acting like a crazy person?”

Derek only responded with a grunt as he approached his bed, laying Stiles down gently. He disappeared into the bathroom as Stiles leaned back on his elbows, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back as he shouted, “Seriously dude, I'm fine!”

Derek started back towards Stiles with a first-aid box in hand and a brooding mug. Stiles scoffed when he thought about the idea of a werewolf keeping a first-aid kit around, but then it occurred to him and his face went flush. Derek scurried to his side and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need me to take the pain?” Derek grabbed Stiles’ limp hand and anchored him back to the moment.

“Huh? What? Oh, no. No, I’m fine.” Stiles was easily distracted.

Derek rolled his eyes as he let Stiles’ hand go reluctantly and turned to get a better view of his ankle. 

“You keep saying that.” Derek’s voice was gruff and annoyed. He pulled off Stiles’s shoe and the boy winced as he pulled in air sharply. “And as usual, you are not fine.” Stiles rolled his honey eyes and let his head roll between his shoulders mockingly. 

Derek peeled off the brunette’s sock and turned up the hem of his pants the best he could without causing discomfort.

Stiles was trying to hold his breath to hide the pain that radiated from his ankle up to his thigh as Derek worked on him, but the rhythm of his heart betrayed him. His eyes were screwed shut and the pain started to fade, allowing him to relax, but when he realized what was happening, his eyes flew open.

“Hey! I said don’t do that!” He swatted Derek’s hand away, the black veins in his arm paling. Derek grunted and put his hand back on his skin, the charcoal lines pulling the ache from him. There was no point in fighting Derek because Stiles had no doubt that if he kept it up Derek would have him tied down so that he couldn’t push his hand away. If there was anyone to rival the stubbornness of Stiles Stilinski, it was Derek Hale.

The pain dispersed and he could only feel a slight tingly sensation along with the impression of the swelling. Stiles sat up to bring Derek and his foot into view. The ankle was roughly the size of a tennis ball and he had had enough broken bones and injuries in his life to know that wasn’t a good sign. “How bad is it? Is it broken?” Stiles coiled back, preparing for the answer. Derek didn’t respond so he wiggled his leg to get his attention. “Do I need to go see Melissa?”

“No.”

“No, what? I asked three questions.” Stiles squinted and pursed his lips.

“I know.” Derek kept his focus on Stiles’ ankle, continuing to care for the injury.

“Okay, grumpy-pants, that still doesn’t clarify anything,” Stiles said as he waved his hand and rolled his eyes.

Stiles seemed more easy-going since Derek took the pain and the wolf found comfort in that. From the angle he was to the boy, Stiles couldn’t see the small uptick on the corner of his mouth.

“No, it’s not bad. No, it’s not broken. And no, you don’t need to see Melissa.”

Stiles unknowingly let out a long sigh of relief as he let his head fall back. Stikes took a deep inhale before he looked back up and Derek was finishing up wrapping the white compression gauze around his foot. He couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips as he watched the man care for him, a side Derek tried to keep buried down but Stiles had seen break through the surface many times.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Derek hadn’t removed his eyes from Stiles’ injury, so the brunette shook his head in awe, startled that he was able to notice. Damn werewolf senses.

“Looking at you like what?” Stiles didn’t even try to hide the sass in his tone.

Derek sighed and pulled in his lips as he turned his head towards Stiles. He tilted his head and knitted his brows together.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak eyebrows,” Stiles mocked.

Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles and picked up the items he had littered around the foot of the bed while nursing the boy's ankle. He placed them all back into the kit and stood up, walking over to the center of the room. He placed it on the table in front of the couch as he sunk into its cushions. Leaning back, Derek rubbed the place between his eyebrows and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so exhausted. Letting out a long sigh, he straightened his back by sitting up, knowing he couldn't rest yet.

He looked over to Stiles who was still examining him adamantly. “You need to rest, Stiles.”

“Apparently, so do you.” He threw an arm up at the man as he shifted in the bed, pulling himself up to lean against the headboard.

Derek sighed and let his head fall into his hands, digging his elbows into his thighs as he leaned forward.

Stiles scooted over to the side of the bed as best he could without twisting or moving his ankle then cleared his throat. Derek looked up hazily and saw Stiles pat the spot on the mattress next to him.

Quizzically, Derek looked the scene over and drew lines into his forehead. Stiles tried to offer him assurance with the softest of smiles.

Nervously gulping, Derek let his thoughts run rampant. It’s not that the idea repulsed him, but that fact that it didn’t. He’s known Stiles for a few years now and he has successfully drowned his feelings for him in that time frame. Stiles wasn’t very subtle and he could tell that the brunette felt...something too, whatever that may be.

No matter what he did, Stiles seemed to weave himself into the structure of Derek’s existence and there was no denying it, so he ignored it. Giving in to his weariness, he stood up and walked over to the bed, falling into its embrace. He edged the side, trying to put as much space between him and Stiles as he could.

“Look, I know you bite, but I don’t.” Derek rolled over to face the boy and glared at him with tired eyes. 

Shrugging his shoulders, Stiles slid down onto his back and let his fingers tap restlessly on his belly. Derek drowned out the noise by honing in on the boy’s rhythmic breathing. In...out. In...out. In...out.

***

A surging pain woke Derek on the bathroom floor, wrenching his intestines as he leaned over to puke again. He opened his wet eyes and saw that everything in the toilet was black. A cold chill ran down his spine and his body started to tremble as he leaned against the wall again.

With his mind spinning, he couldn’t focus on anything around him let alone a coherent thought. He pressed his palms to the cold floor, pushing up to attempt bringing himself to his feet. Before he could raise himself higher than three inches, his arms gave way and he settled back onto the ground.

If he wanted to live through the night, he was going to need help from someone...anyone. He was desperate and his instinct was taking hold, his need to survive no matter what. His wolf howled as his fragile body was decaying from the inside out.

Derek’s eyes flew open, their brilliant cyan shining in the dimness of the small space as he let out a pained shout. He needed to call for help before he passed out again fearing he wouldn’t wake up next time. He reached into his pocket, pulling his phone out and agonizingly typed in a number. His fingers were weak, along with the rest of him, struggling to enter the digits with one hand. He left black blood on the screen as he tapped, there was black blood everywhere.

His lids grew heavy and his hand went limp just as he managed to send the call. He listened to the shrilling ring on the line as he faded into the absence of reality. The last thing he heard was the familiar voice calling his name with panic. He wanted to say something back, he wanted to comfort them and convince them he was okay, to take the worry from their mind but he couldn’t.

***

Derek awoke to the feeling of fingers tracing the lines of his face. Without opening his eyes, he smiled and grabbed the hand, pulling the person it belonged to into his chest. They shifted and turned, placing the curve of their back into Derek, slotting them together perfectly. His arm was draped over them and placed over their heart, feeling the rapid pumping of blood. He nuzzled his face into the crevice of their neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply and feeling tingly at the scent he loved. 

The scent.

That Scent.

Fuck.

Startled with reality finally catching up to him, Derek jumped up from the bed, and Stiles fell off the other side in response. Derek ran over to him and kneeled down next to the boy as he groaned. “Oh shit, sorry... I didn’t...I just...sorry.” Stiles was rubbing the back of his head and sitting up while Derek looked him over frantically, terrified he had broken him.

“It’s fine, sourwolf. I’m still relatively in one piece.” Stiles leaned back on his hands, giving him a content smile and Derek let his features wash over him. Like a crashing wave, everything hit him all at once. All the emotions and thoughts he had built a barrier to hold back. The dam had cracked and the pressure became too heavy. For the briefest of seconds, he lost all control and brain function, purely acting out of instinct.

He frantically grabbed Stiles’s face with both hands and pulled him to his lips, kissing him as if his life depended on it. There wasn’t any tongue or sexualization to it, but a hunger and desire to be closer, to be one.

Every movement of their lips clashing together felt like breath was being drawn out of his chest, pulling him in like a mist into the other man’s lungs. He was so enamored by the feeling of Stiles’ mouth that he failed to realize the fingers weaving into his hair, pulling so tight that it stung his scalp. He needed Stiles so fervently that searing tears welled in his eyes and leaked past their closed hoods.

When Stiles felt the warm moisture between their cheeks, he broke the kiss and ran his fingers through the wolf’s hair, then bringing his palm to cup his cheek. He brushed away a stray tear as the raven-haired man leaned into it, eyes still refusing to crack. He inclined forward and kissed Derek’s damp cheek where the tear had been wiped away. They sat there in silence, taking in the presence of the other.

They didn’t need words to communicate, they never did. Words were pointless between them, unable to bring light and understanding to what the other was truly experiencing. If you took a look back in their history, you could catch the longing gazes that failed to hide their affection while the other wasn’t looking. The ability to connect and comprehend one another without even speaking. Conversations of the eyes that allowed them to converse with their souls rather than their words.

Possibly, they weren’t entirely aware of it themselves, but it was there nonetheless. When they did become vocal, it was banter and words of indifference, contrasting everything their bodies spoke truth to. Their subconscious’ blatantly aware of what was happening between them, but their primitive brains just needing to catch up.

“Derek…” Stiles’ voice was barely above a whisper and it made the wolf knead deeper into his hand. The way he said his name, it was dangerous. Dangerous in the sense that it was raw and desperate.

Derek’s eyes finally opened and they were the piercing cobalt that bore into Stiles’s whiskey ones.

Gnawing on his lip, Stiles leaned back in slowly and searched for some kind of rejection in the cerulean orbs, but found none. He kissed Derek so gently that the brush of their lips was almost non-existent. He kissed again, somewhat harder. He repeated the action, each kiss becoming more and more demanding.

They made their way back up to the bed, refusing to break their lips and found themselves with Derek stradling Stiles’s legs. Their pelvis’ clinging together like magnets as they deepened their kisses. Derek licked across Stiles’s bottom lip as he pushed his hips hard against the boy.

Stiles moaned and the wolf took advantage, agonizingly pushing his tongue into the other’s mouth. He searched the open space, exploring its crevices and swirling around against the opposing muscle. Stiles let small keening sounds move past their locked lips and met Derek's crotch with his own small rolls of his hips.

Derek let his hands grip Stiles’ shoulders and brush down his arms until he intertwined their fingers, bringing his arms up and over their heads.

Their bodies rubbing together caused both their shirts to ride up and Stiles whined at the lack of skin. He pulled back and tugged at the hem of Derek's black shirt, prompting him to remove the item.

Derek reached behind the brunette, gripping at the end of Stiles’s shirt and bringing it over his head. He then sat up tall after he tossed the garment on the floor, then stilled, taking the boy in for all of his worth. His fingers brushed his collarbone and made their way down, ghosting his skin. He let the pad of his thumb sweep over his nipple, causing Stiles to shudder at the contact, then down over each bump of his ribs that protruded through his flesh. Over the line that formed half of the infamous “V” on his hip and to the patch of hair below his belly button, leading down past the waistband of his chinos.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Stiles’ cheeks flushed pink at the compliment and he gulped, the bump in his throat shifting slightly as he swallowed. Derek leaned down and kissed it, leaving a trail of wet kisses around his neck, up under his jaw, and around the base of his skull until he reached behind his ear.

Stiles was absolutely blanched, his breaths thready and mouth dry.

“I need you, Stiles.” Derek’s words weren’t desperate or pathetic, but whole-hearted and demanding. A simple statement of truth.

Derek sat up again, causing Stiles’s hand that was resting on his shoulder to drag down his chest. Stiles kept it there, against the defined abs of Derek’s stomach.

Derek was waiting for any sort of response from the brunette, but Stiles was unbelievably silent in all manner of the word. Derek Hale had managed to leave Stiles Stilinski speechless. He searched the younger man’s face and found a hint of awe, making him smile.

In return, Stiles broke his lack of reaction with a toothy grin that was comically large, but utterly pure. Derek’s smile grew even wider and he let out a small chuckle, leaning in for another chaste kiss.

Derek couldn’t wait anymore, he had to have Stiles now. He hovered over him, tugging on his bottom lip with question and the brunette turned his head minimally, mimicking the uncertainty. Derek pulled away a bit more and curled his fingers into the top of the Stiles's pants.

Stiles’s eyes grew wide and he gave a weak nod. The ebony-haired man unbuttoned the pants and pulled them off, leaving behind the plaid boxers. The hardness beneath them was undeniably visible as the head of Stiles’s pink cock peeked out at the top.

Derek swung his leg over Stiles and got off the bed, the boy whining in protest at the absence of his weight on him. He pulled off his own pants and briefs, leaving himself on display for the brunette to ogle.

He was large and thick, his cock not entirely up despite its hardness. The weight of it caused him to hang slightly. Stiles’s breath hitched as he looked at the man before him.

Derek looked to be carved from stone, a masterpiece by Michelangelo himself. His eyes seared into the flesh as he examined him, the bits of his hair sticking up from where his own fingers ran through, thick brows that rested above his kaleidoscope eyes. Lips that were pink and soft as clouds, his tongue running across them with desire.

Stiles followed the line of his jaw, littered with scruff down his neck that was thick and strong, shoulders that too often bore the weight of the world and arms that showed muscle without flexing. He looked at his hands that were deftly underrated, strong rough hands that he didn’t see as weapons the way Derek did, but as gentle tools. He remembered how those very hands had been used to take care of his injury and take away the agony that came with it.

Stiles’s eyes drifted to the surprisingly boney hips next to where his hands were hanging. Lines shot downwards from his hips into his pelvis but were cut off by dark hairs on his crotch. The hair extended up and onto his stomach which was hard and toned. A red blush covered his face as he looked back down to his thick cock, now being pumped by those full hands. Derek’s head was pink and swollen, liquid leaking from the slit at the top. Stiles could feel his own precome pooling on his stomach from the tip that poked above his underwear.

Stiles swore he was close to coming just from the sight of the man alone. His mouth was a contrast of watering with desire and dry from astonishment. It matched the oxymoron of his body, now breaking out into a cold sweat. His jaw was slack and he took in a shaky breath. “Fuck.”

Stiles had imagined Derek before when he let his mind wander, he even had seen him shirtless countless times, leaving little to the imagination, but seeing him fully, and in this way, wanting Stiles, was like gazing upon him in a new light. It felt like he was seeing him for the first time.

“Don’t just fucking stand there,” Stiles threw up a noodle of an arm, and Derek wasted no time to climb back on top of him. He wiggled his way between the brunette’s legs, letting their cocks rest next to each other. 

He went in for a kiss, this one more sloppy and heated than the others, different and less sensual. Derek involuntarily began to buck his hips down, rubbing his cock alongside Stiles’s, only the thin fabric of the boxers between them. Stiles let out a moan from the friction against Derek and resented the barrier between them. He wiggled his pelvis up and Derek hissed with the unexpected pleasure. 

“Off,” was all Stiles could manage as his heart pounded in his chest, and Derek complied. He sat up, pulling the waistband down and bringing Stiles’ legs in front of him and straight up. He tossed the item and brought his legs back down slowly, but Stiles was impatient and sat up to meet his lips. He made his way onto Derek’s lap, straddling him.

Derek would roll his hips up into Stiles and keening sounds escaped with each brush. Their cocks caught between their stomachs and mixing the precome into their flesh. Stiles wrapped his legs around the wolf’s back as he was lowered back down. “Derek, please. I need you inside me.”

The beta reached over to the table next to the bed and opened the drawer. He pulled out a bottle of lube and spread it across his fingers. Stiles looked on in anticipation and couldn't help but to gnaw on his lips.

Derek traced the ring to Stiles’s entrance and the boy shuddered at the touch. The lube made Derek’s fingers cold at first, contrasted to the heat irradiated off Stiles’s body. 

“You gotta talk to me, okay?” Stiles nodded at Derek’s words with his eyes closed, basking in the pleasures he was feeling. “No, talk.” Derek wasn’t demanding, but still adamant.

“Okay.” Stiles breathed out hard, his voice almost nonexistent. He realized Derek was waiting on him. “More.” He could hardly keep his eyes open, his head back and neck exposed as he wiggled beneath his lover.

Derek pushed in a single finger and Stiles let out a harsh breath that turned into a moan. The sensation was strange but felt amazing. When he adjusted, he looked up at Derek and let him know he was okay. The man slowly inserted a second digit, stretching Stiles out. Stiles’s cock twitched, a steady stream of clear liquid leaking from his slit and onto his belly. He bucked his hips, begging for movement, and Derek started to incite his fingers, pulling them out and pushing them back in.

As Stiles relaxed and loosened around him, Derek’s movements were faster and stronger, pulling elicit moans and whines from Stiles.

“Der-” Stiles couldn’t manage to say his whole name between his hitched cries of pleasure.

“What do you need? Talk to me, remember?” Derek kept the rhythm of his fingers, twisting and scissoring inside Stiles.

Stiles let out a grunt of frustration, unable to form words. He wasn’t sure why Derek kept wanting him to speak, but he’d comply as best he could. “You.” He let out another groan of satisfaction. “I need you.”

Derek halted his hand and tilted his head at the boy. He watched as Stiles let out a whine of protest and looked up at him pitifully. Derek offered him a small smile and leaned over the brunette to get more lube, placing a small kiss on his lips. Derek poured some in his hand and then applied it to his enlarged member, flinching at the sudden chill the liquid brought.

Stiles watched over his belly and through his legs in awe as Derek pumped his cock in his hand. Stiles found himself bringing a hand to his own dick and wrapping his fingers around it as he pleasured himself. 

Derek looked up and noticed, pushing Stiles’ hand away. He leaned down, still stroking himself with one hand and enveloping Stiles in the other.

Derek made a long stripe from the base of Stiles’s cock to the swollen head with his tongue and took him into his mouth, tasting the salty-sweet precome. Stiles let out a loud gasp and tensed slightly from the surprise as he bucked his hips up into the back of Derek’s throat and wrung his fingers into the man’s black locks. Realizing how close he was to finishing, he stilled Derek’s bobbing head, “Wait. Derek, just wait.” His words were strained.

Derek stopped and let Stiles’s throbbing cock fall from his mouth with a pop and hit his stomach where the patch of hair was thick on his belly. He raised an eyebrow with concern that Stiles wasn’t happy. Sitting up, he separated himself from the mole-speckled man slightly, in fear he was changing his mind.

“No! No, come back. I just…” Stiles looked to the side and bit his lip. Derek couldn’t help but let out a needy noise at the sight. “I was close and didn’t want to finish in your mouth.” Stiles sat up and placed his hand at the back of Derek’s head, locking their eyes. “I want to finish with you inside me. I want to feel you fill me up, coming on your cock.”

A thundering growl escaped Derek’s lips as he crashed them onto Stiles’s, knocking them both back down into the bed. His wolf took hold, no longer buried beneath the surface. His eyes flashed blue as he pushed himself up to look at Stiles and the young man gawked in amazement. Stiles brushed Derek’s cheek with his thumb and worried his bottom lip, gazing deeply into Derek’s sapphire eyes.

They met in another deep kiss, inhaling the moans the other made as their cocks rubbed together between their stomachs, slick from the lube. Derek lifted his hips and reached down, refusing to break their liplock. He positioned himself against Stiles’s hole and felt him flinch at the touch. He looked down to make sure the position was right and looked back to Stiles for affirmation one last time.

Stiles nodded with begging eyes and Derek pressed into him with dragging speed. Stiles let his head fall back and his jaw went slack as he felt Derek’s head slip into him. It was a mix of pain and pleasure, something words couldn’t define. He felt himself fluttering around Derek, adjusting to the protrusion and relaxing as his body became attuned with it. He closed his mouth and looked back to Derek who had stilled and Stiles frowned, whimpering and in need of more than he was given. “Derek…” His voice was hoarse and crackly, barely making a sound.

Derek offered sympathy and responded by slowly sliding in deeper. He was met with some friction as he felt Stiles clench. “Relax,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed Stiles easily with nothing less than love. That’s what this was. They weren’t fucking or hooking up, they were making love and it scared Derek shitless but that was the last thing on his mind as he looked down at the man lying before him, offering himself wholly and completely.

Stiles felt relief at the reassurance of his lover and relaxed as best he could, his heart beating rapidly against his chest. His mind and pulse were racing at inhuman speeds, relentless, but everything around him stilled. Derek’s lips stuck to his, making a small noise when they separated from one another. God he loved Derek, he loved him with every atom of his being and had for so long, even if he hadn’t known it.

Feeling Derek rolling his hips, his cock moving in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, it forced Stiles to close his eyes despite his desire to stay locked on Derek. The room was filled with his wanton moans and gasps met with Derek’s grunts and shallow whimpers. The sounds rang like music to Stiles’s ears, listening to his lover as he began to thrust at a more unrelenting pace.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles breathed and flew his lids open to see Derek’s wolf eyes beating down at him. They had both acquired a sheen of sweat, causing their chests to glisten in the light.

“Stiles,” Derek grunted, screwing up his features trying to hold back his release. His stamina was higher than this, but with Stiles it was different. He could look at the boy naked and come, his body begging and screaming for liberation.

The way Derek said his name told Stiles he was close. “Touch me,” he demanded frantically and Derek complied, reaching for Stiles throbbing dick, a constant stream of cloudy precome escaping his slit and pooling on his stomach.

Stroking Stiles’s cock was easy with the mix of sweat, precome, and lube that had accumulated between them. He kneaded the slit with the pad of his thumb then started to stroke again, Stiles’ breath hitching in his throat, something blocking his airway. 

“God, Stiles. I- I love-” Derek faltered for a split second but managed to recover. “Fuck, you’re amazing.” He placed kisses along the man’s spotted jaw and whispered so softly that even a wolf would have trouble hearing. “Come for me.”

Stiles let out a bellowing cry and for the briefest of seconds, Stiles felt his stomach lurch—the feeling you get when you hover in the air right before you come down on a swing. In that moment, everything made sense and the whole world was crystal clear. He looked at Derek for what felt like hours and saw him shining like a star; his beacon of light that would always guide him home—Derek was home.

Stiles’s whole body shuddered violently as he came over Derek’s hand, his body tensing and tightening just before all his limbs went limp. Derek felt the brunette beneath him and around his cock, straining him and pulling his own orgasm with the pressure, having seen the man he loved come because of him. He could watch Stiles come over and over again.

Stiles’ face contorted in the most beautiful of ways, like an angel that wasn’t worthy of his gaze. He emptied himself into Stiles, coating him with his seed and a roar escaped his chest as he collapsed onto Stiles, panting and huffing in sync with the body under him.

They laid there for an unnamed measure of time, Derek now flaccid inside Stiles, both of them too exhausted to move or clean themselves up. After what felt like an eternity, Derek managed to regain some strength and got up to grab a wet cloth. He cleaned Stiles and then himself and after he proceeded to climb back into bed. He pulled Stiles into his side, holding him close and tight, never wanting to let him go again. 

They dozed off effortlessly in each other's arms and under the covers, breathing in each other and living in that moment where the world outside the loft didn’t exist. Just two men deeply and madly in love and they didn’t need another damn thing, this was enough.

***

Derek felt hands on his face, a familiar and longed for touch. His eyes opened but his vision was dark and blurred. “S’iles?” He slurred and felt his head roll as the bathroom swirled around him. “S’you?”

“Derek!? Derek, what happened?” The panic was blatant in Stiles’s voice as he coerced Derek to wake. “DEREK!?” He tapped the man's cheek as Derek’s head started falling.

Derek shook his head and opened his eyes, flashing between their beta color and his natural blues and greens. He groaned and tried to sit up, but had no control over any part of his body.

“Derek...” Stiles searched the man as best he could for the source of the black blood under the fluorescent lights. He pulled up the shirt Derek was wearing and discovered the open and festering wound on his side. “Oh my God. Derek, oh my God. What happened? Shit. Shit shit shit shit.”

Stiles grabbed the hand towel from the wall, which he was certain was less than clean in a place like this, and used it to apply pressure with both hands. A cocktail of curses and prayers escaped Stiles’s lips as his eyes began to well. “Derek, I swear to God…”

Stiles grunted as Derek shifted and contorted his face in pain. That was better than seeing his limp body laying on the floor. “I swear to God if you fucking die I will kill you.”

Derek’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell, laying on the ground. His body went rigid and began convulsing.

“FUCK.” Stiles threw the towel down and turned Derek onto his side as best he could. Stiles sat behind him, Derek’s back leaning against his chest as Stiles used his whole body to keep him in that position.

Tears streaked Stiles’s cheeks and he gritted his teeth, a bottomless terror tearing its way through his chest down into his stomach. He was beyond his depth and felt helpless. He needed to get Derek stable so he could piece together what was happening to him.

Stiles held onto Derek like the man would evaporate if he let go. Screwing his eyes shut he clung so hard his fingers were going numb and his knuckles turning whiter than bone. After finally finding Derek, he wasn’t about to lose him again; he couldn’t. If Derek died, he would die on the floor right next to him.

The seizure lasted less than a minute, but it felt like hours. After Derek finally stilled, Stiles let his head fall onto Derek’s shoulder and he could hear shallow breaths. He relaxed into the unconscious body on the floor and let out a choking sob. He sat there a minute, whimpering and soaked in the black blood that was seeping out of Derek.

Stiles couldn’t move, didn’t want to move, finding peace in Derek’s breathing. In...out. In...out. In...out.

***

“How’s your ankle?” Derek spoke softly as he let his fingers trace the side of Stiles’s arm. He was curled into the older man’s side, a smile on both their faces and eyes closed with contentment. Every once in a while, the brunette’s body would mildly shudder from the sensation of Derek’s touch, it wasn’t his fault he was ticklish. 

“It’s fine.” Stiles hummed and nuzzled closer into Derek’s side.

“I don’t like that.”

Stiles sat up and looked down at his wolf with confusion. “Don’t like what?”

Derek pushed himself up onto his elbows and showed a sympathetic smile. “When you say ‘I’m fine’. You say it too often and I can always tell that you’re not.”

“Well, I am now. More than fine actually.” Stiles was starting to feel marginally defensive. “What about you? You say it too.”

“I do not,” Derek grumbled and laid his head back down, dismissing the discussion, but Stiles wasn’t finished.

“You do so! All the time actually.” Stiles sat straight up and picked up an accusatory tone.

Derek opened a single eye and glared at the boy who was now speaking with his hands.

“Hey Derek, how are you?” Stiles comically deepened his voice, “Fine.” Speaking normally again, “Yo, Derbear, how’s it hanging?” In a mocking timbre, “Fine.”

Derek was not appreciating the antics Stiles was executing.

“Oh my God, Derek! You’re bleeding from everywhere!” In his Derek voice, “I’m fine.”

Derek growled and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He got up and pulled on his briefs, then walked over to the couch to get some space.

“Oh! Real mature. So it’s okay for you to have a problem with something that I do, but the second I have an issue with you, you turn into a toddler.”

“I’m not a toddler.” Derek’s words were hard and gruff, spoken through gritted teeth. He crossed his arms over his chest and refused to look in Stiles’s direction. 

Obviously, that wasn’t going to work, so Stiles leaned over the edge of the bed to find his boxers, then limped his way to sit on the table across from the grumpy wolf. “Really? Because it sure looks like you are to me.” 

Derek looked at Stiles fleetingly and huffed in defiance. 

“Seriously, why do you put these walls up around me? We just had the most...mind-blowing sex, and you opened up to me in ways I didn’t think possible, but you’re still doing this shit.” Stiles hesitated for a moment, pondering the idea of mentioning what he heard in the throes of it all, unsure if it was something that just slipped out or intentionally said. Shit, he didn’t even know if Derek knew he said it. “For fuck’s sake Derek, you told me you fucking love me! Why are you still keeping up these walls?” 

Derek threw up a horrified stare like someone just told him he could never wear a black t-shirt again. Stiles drew into himself, feeling like he shrunk in size, immediately regretting everything that just came out of his mouth. “You need to leave.” Derek looked straight into Stiles’s eyes, bare of any emotion.

“Excuse me?” Stiles widened his eyes and watched Derek stand up and storm off to the other side of the room, his back facing him.

“I said go!” Derek shouted over his shoulder, standing there like an immovable object.

“No! Derek, no. I’m not go-”

“Jesus Christ, Stiles. Just give me some fucking peace!”

Stiles sat frozen, just blinking here and there, not entirely sure if any of this was real. For what was only a minute, in reality, felt like an eternity, but he refused to move and finally spoke up when he processed what the fuck was going on. He didn’t understand it, but he processed it nonetheless.

“Derek…” He heard a grunt from the man. “Please, just listen to me…” He heard no protests, so he continued. “I...I don’t know if you meant it, but…” Stiles paused when he thought he heard a diminutive whine. “...but I do. I get why you do this, I do, but I wish you didn’t keep building yourself up and breaking it all back down in this repetitive and arduous cycle. You show me things, tell me things, that I’m pretty confident you hide from everyone else, but then whenever I try to talk about them with you, you close off and shut down. What are you afraid of? I know you’re scared, I know you’re always scared. You think I don’t see you, but I do. After everything we’ve been through, all the shit we’ve faced...even after this!!”

Stiles took a deep breath and sighed in an attempt to relax and not shout again. That wasn’t his intention, he doesn’t want to make Derek any more defensive. “Even after this, you still can’t trust me.”

Stiles’s words hurt, and Derek wanted to tell him none of that was true, he did trust him, he trusted him with every atom of his being, but something in him, something deep in his gut made him still as stone. Stiles was right about one thing, he was scared, terrified to the point of petrification.

Everyone in his life has left him, whether it be by choice or circumstance, but they left him behind all the same. It became second nature for him to close off, shut people out. Why should he let someone in when they were just going to leave too? Everyone he ever loved or that meant something to him had gone, leaving him alone in this world, taking a piece of him with them when they walked away.

His father, who left him and his mother when he was too young to remember, just the stench of stale cigarettes and smoke. Paige, the first girl he ever loved. Kate, the first woman he loved. His mother, whose death he blames himself for. Cora, finding another pack in South America. Isaac, leaving him to join Scott’s pack. Peter, choosing power over family. So much pain in his memories, the belief he wasn’t good enough and no one wanted him.

“Fine, if you won’t talk to me, I’ll go, but just know…” Stiles felt moisture in his eyes and couldn't hold back the silent tears, burning. Trying not to whimper, he could only manage a whisper. “Just know that I love you. I don’t care about everything else, okay? I’ll never forget the day we met. It was like something clicked, but I didn’t know, not until the pool.” 

Stiles didn’t need to elaborate, because Derek knew the exact moment he was talking about.

“I still hated you, oh yeah, but I loved you too. I hated who you were trying to be, the mask you wore, but I loved the man underneath. That’s all I want Derek, I want you.” Stiles pulled on his pants as best he could with his injury, slipped on his shoes and shirt, and headed for the large metal door. He slid it open and stopped to look at the man he so unashamedly was in love with who hadn’t moved a muscle, then regrettably left.

***

Derek woke to the sensation of a numbing pain throughout his body and loneliness in his stomach. Everything was too sore to move, even the strain of opening his eyes. The early morning light shined through his lids, so he raised an arm over his head and laid it on his face. His mind was slowly catching up and the heavy weight pulled down on his heart when he remembered imaging Stiles amid his delusional state.

Shifting in the bed, Derek became aware that the last time he was conscious, he was on the floor in the bathroom. Derek’s lids flew open and he managed to sit up minimally with his sudden rush of adrenaline. His eyes scanned the bright room, adjusting to the light, and found the familiar speckled face asleep in a chair in the corner. Stiles’s mouth was somewhat open and tiny snores escaped as his chest rose and fell.

Derek attempted to pull himself up in the bed and winced in agony, clutching his side. He leaned back against the headboard, gasping for breaths and closed his eyes to even his breathing. When the pain became manageable again, he opened his eyes to see the boy unmoved.

“Stiles,” Derek spoke softly as to not startle him, but he was unphased. He spoke his name again with more vigor and Stiles almost fell out of the chair with alarm.

“Huh!? What!? Who’s dead!?” Stiles rapidly blinked his eyes, adapting from the darkness to daylight, and pulled himself up in the chair.

“Stiles…” Derek wasn’t impressed with his antics. Maybe he would be if he wasn’t consumed by the torment of his wound, but it was difficult for him to focus on anything else.

Stiles saw the strain on Derek’s face and stood up quickly, racing to the bed and kneeling on the edge. “Derek? Are you okay? Shit. No. I know you’re not okay. What can I do? What happened?”

Stiles continued to spit out question after question until Derek interrupted by repeating his name for a fourth time.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” Stiles shied with embarrassment, knowing the last thing Derek wanted to handle was Stiles’s slew of inquiries. “I’m going to check your side, okay?”

Derek only managed a barely audible grunt and small nod before Stiles began to lift up his shirt. Looking down, Derek realized he wasn’t covered in black blood, and clean clothes had been put on him. “Did you…”

Stiles was focused on the injury and looked up slightly dazed, “What?” His voice was soft and distant.

Derek nodded down towards his body.

Stiles shyly responded, “Oh. Uhm, yeah. It’s no big deal.” He shrugged and pulled Derek’s shirt back down, then got up from the bed. He went back to the chair, slumping down into it. “So what happened? It looks like a bullet wound.”

Derek couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Stiles managed to drag him from the bathroom into the bed, clean him, and change him. Speaking of which, he began to ponder the idea of how he even knew he was here and needed help in the first place.

“It is. How did you find me?” Derek’s throat was raw and dry, along with his lips. He licked them and longed for some water.

Stiles sat forward in his seat, “Doesn’t matter. How did you get shot? Was it laced with wolf’s bane? That could be why you’re not healing. And it explains all the black blood.” Stiles scrunched up his nose at the memory of almost having to cut off Derek’s arm. “I’m not going to have to amputate you from the sternum down, am I?”

Derek growled and rolled his eyes. The sound tore at his throat. “Water.”

“Oh!” Stiles jumped up and found a glass on the table and filled it at the sink. He noticed a bullet laying inside and picked it up. He mindlessly offered the cup to Derek as he inspected the piece of metal in his other hand.

“Stiles…”

“Hmm?” Stiles turned back to Derek and it occurred to him he needed help with the drink. “Oh. Yeah, shit. My bad.” He sat down next to Derek and helped him take some sips. Stiles placed the glass next to the bed on a side table and looked at the bullet again. “It doesn’t look like it’s laced.”

“Because it’s not. Wasn’t hunters.” Derek slouched some, lessening the pressure on his open wound.

Stiles stared at him quizzically, “What were you doing to get shot at by non-hunters? Who even-” Stiles’s eyes widened and he stood up forcefully, “COPS!? Were you being shot at by cops!?”

“No.” Derek was beginning to feel his body worsen and was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

“Who was it then?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m dying anyway.”

Stiles shot daggers at Derek, “You’re not allowed to.”

Derek glared and shook his head, of course, Stiles would be the one to challenge death. He turned in bed, closing his eyes.

Stiles sat down hard on the bed and shook Derek until he opened his eyes and groaned. “Listen, asswolf, we’re gonna figure this out. You were pretty bad before. I didn’t…” Stiles looked down at his hands on Derek’s arm for a moment then raised his eyes back up. “Thing is, you got better, but you’re starting to get shitty again. If it gets as bad as before, I don’t think you’ll come back from that.”

Fear was evident in Stiles’s eyes and Derek wanted nothing more than to reach out and kiss him, tell him it was all going to be okay, but he couldn’t and it destroyed him. A surge of pain ran through Derek’s body and he tensed, letting out a seething breath through his teeth.

“Derek! Fuck!” Stiles reached out again, touching Derek’s arm, and his body instantly relaxed. “Oh my God…” The boy grabbed Derek’s shirt and pulled it up, almost off him completely.

Derek was confused and his lack of clarity and consciousness wasn’t helpful. “What…”

“Shh.” Stiles shushed him sternly and traced his fingers over the black veins from the wound and up Derek’s chest.

Derek shivered at the contact, warm fingers against his cold skin, fingers he felt before and a touch he had ingrained in his memory. Something in him pulsed--his heart, his mind, his blood--he didn’t know but it pushed him and for a fleeting moment he could breathe. Stiles’s fingers left his skin but the feeling of his touch lingered.

Stiles looked at Derek and his eyes appeared more wet than normal, “They’re almost to your heart.”

Derek pulled down his shirt, “I know.”

Stiles pursed his lips and furrowed his brow deep in thought. Derek examined him, scanning his face, every mole, freckle, and shape. He always loved the way his nose was slightly upturned, making it easier to kiss his soft pink lips. God, he desperately wanted to kiss him one last time before he died.

“Stop that!” Stiles lightly punched Derek’s arm but it was still enough to make him recoil in his vulnerable state. “I know that look and I hate it. You’ve given up. You’ve decided that this is it and you’re dying. I’m not turning my back on you this time!”

Tears begged to leave Derek’s eyes and he managed a sad smile. He had forgotten just how relentless Stiles was and how much he loved him for it, even admired it. He was right though, Derek was content with this ending, Stiles with him. Although it wasn’t how he thought he would die, it would be enough--Stiles was enough.

“I said stop it!” Stiles hit Derek again and served him a hard scowl.

“I’m sorry.” Derek closed his eyes in shame and let out a heavy sigh.

Inhaling deep with frustration, Stiles took Derek’s hand into his own. He knew those two words intimately, the same way Derek did. Derek wasn’t apologizing for what he did, but what he didn’t do, or what he felt was not enough.

Stiles took his free hand and brought it to Derek’s face, cupping his cheek and running his thumb under his eye, wiping away the tear before it had a chance to fall. “You still got me.”

Derek’s eyes opened and he tilted his head, gears turning in his mind.

Silence took over as they embraced one another with their glances until Stiles’s eyes widened and he knitted all the pieces together. “Scott!”

“What?” Derek was beyond confused now, certain he was hallucinating.

Hurdling a leg over Derek, Stiles straddled his calves and pushed the shirt up again. “Scott!” He shouted with excitement like it was the answer to all their problems. Engrossed by his own mind and thoughts, he was oblivious to the fact that Derek had no clue what he was referring to.

Shock took over Derek as he was being topped, “Scott?”

Touching the decaying flesh on Derek’s stomach, Stiles pressed gently and looked up to Derek’s eyes. “Yes, Scott. This happened to Scott. I know what’s wrong and I can fix it. Well...I can’t, but I know how. You have to fix it.”

Understanding Stiles was an art, and Derek had mastered it long ago, but it was doing him no good right now. His eyes searched for answers, yet found nothing but joy and hope in Stiles’s eyes. He didn’t comprehend it or know why he was so filled with optimism, but it was enough. “Tell me.”

Stiles settled onto his knees, wiggling into Derek unintentionally. Had this been any other time, Derek would have growled and flipped them over. “Okay. When the alpha pack attacked you and we thought you died, the second time,” Stiles squinted and realized they thought he died four times and was going to bring it back up later because that was unacceptable, “Scott blamed himself. He had been hurt too but he wasn’t healing and it kept getting worse. His blame and guilt prevented his ability to recover and did the opposite. He believed he deserved it, the pain and suffering.” Stiles tilted his head innocently and sighed.

Knowing Derek carried the weight of the world, there was an endless list of things that Derek felt unnecessary guilt for. He had found himself in a vicious self-deprecating cycle and it needed to end. “Why do you feel guilty?”

Derek shied away, hiding his conviction, but Stiles took his chin and turned him back to face him. Stiles wore a sad smile that begged for Derek to open up, he always wanted him to open up, but Derek had always been so frightened. That’s what fucked everything up in the first place. Looking deep into Stiles’s eyes, Derek replied, “You.”

Sitting up straight, Stiles donned confusion. “You feel guilty because of me?” Stiles seemed broken and distressed, leaning back subtly, “I...did I do something wrong?”

Derek sat up quickly, ignoring the surging pain and cupped Stiles’s face, “No! No, no, no. You didn’t do anything. It was me, it was my fault. I did this.” Derek searched Stiles’s eyes and tried to offer a sense of solace but he had nothing to give; at least nothing but the truth.

He pressed his forehead to Stiles’s and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I was so terrified of you. You tangled yourself into me, I didn’t know how to handle that, so I ran. I wanted to tell you everything that day in the loft, I begged myself to, but I was paralyzed. My greatest regret was hurting you after we...and then letting you walk out that door. I didn’t want you to blame yourself or think you did anything wrong. I pushed you away, I made that choice for us. As soon as you left, I packed a bag and just drove as far as I could. I’ve been numbing myself ever since, searching for Kate and helping Chris, that’s how I got shot, one of Kate’s goons.”

Stiles pushed their foreheads apart and glowered at Derek, but kept quiet as to not interrupt.

Tracing his thumb across Stiles’s cheekbone, he continued, “Stiles, you were right. I was beyond afraid of you, of us. Everyone who has ever meant something to me left me alone and took a piece of me with them, I couldn’t open myself back up to that, I couldn’t lose you, so I left before you even had the chance.”

“I would never leave you.” Stiles waited for Derek to keep going, but he kept quiet. Stiles could see in Derek’s eyes that he wanted to believe his words, but couldn’t because of the ghosts in his past, haunting, and lingering. “Derek, I could never leave you. I looked, you know. I searched for you after you left, every day. You’re not easy to find.” Stiles let out a sad laugh. “When you called me last night, I didn’t know who it was, but I heard you say my name. I called out but you didn’t answer. I knew something was wrong, so I may have committed a few felonies by tracing your number. That’s how I found you. I’ll always find you.”

Derek licked his lips, feeling warmth return to them and the rest of his body. He leaned in and tilted his head until they were sharing the same breath. He wanted to kiss Stiles fervently but hesitated for an unknown reason. Something in the back of his mind still holding him back like an invisible chain. He told Stiles everything and knew what Stiles said was true, but he couldn’t feel it.

Stiles sensed Derek’s tentativeness and waited for him to close the gap. His heart was pounding against his ribs and his blood was boiling. He missed Derek desperately and finally found him, he was in his arms but knew he had to let Derek make the move. He laid everything out on the table and knew the only way Derek would start to heal was if he accepted the past and forgive himself.

Derek inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. The final link in the chain, holding him back had to be broken. He couldn’t hide behind his fear anymore because it was killing him, quite literally. He had no reason to keep it inside, and why would he want to. It was time to open up, so what if things didn’t turn out okay? Living a life paralyzed by all the “what if��s” was no way to live. He needed to let go of the past and look to the future, look to what was sitting right in front of him, who was sitting right in front of him.

Leaning in, Derek whispered against Stiles’s lips like a prayer, “I love you too.” That was the final piece, to say out loud what he felt so profoundly in his bones. Stiles had been his guiding light since the day they met. They always seemed to find their way back to each other, meeting in the middle and being what the other needed or was missing. Derek loved him so deeply and wholeheartedly that it was painful, but the pain that lets you know you’re alive. Stiles set a fire in his bones and sparks in his veins, reminding him that it’s okay to live, okay to feel, and okay to be human.

Derek kissed Stiles hard and deep, neither of them noticing the black lines on his arms receding. He wove his fingers into Stiles’s hair and gripped tight, trying to get closer to him, his breathing heavy and deep. He pulled back Stiles’s head and kissed down his neck and over his Adam’s apple down to his clavicle, sucking small purple marks along the way.

Stiles moaned and his open mouth gasped for a breath he couldn’t catch. Derek made his way back to his lips and pulled them down to the bed. Stiles slid his hands up Derek’s sides and across his stomach. He stopped abruptly and stilled, then sat up. Stiles pulled up Derek’s shirt and ran his hand across the place the wound used to reside. “It’s gone.” He looked up to Derek, beaming like the sun itself, “It worked!”

Derek laughed and Stiles grabbed Derek’s face, crashing into his lips. Derek couldn’t help but smile and chuckle between each kiss. Derek flipped them over and rolled his hips between Stiles’s legs, pulling a soft moan from him.

They fit perfectly together, like two halves of a whole. The way their lips slotted together, forming the perfect seal. Derek trailed his hand up Stiles’s arm above his head and slid his fingers into his, fitting together seamlessly.

Derek could lie here with Stiles forever, just kissing him, his lips, neck, collarbone, shoulders. The taste of him lingered on his tongue and it was a flavour he never wanted to wash out. He exhaled and fell into the crevice of Stiles’s neck, scenting him and nestling in.

Stiles ran his hands over Derek’s back, tracing patterns unknown to him and inhaling the scent of Derek. They laid there holding each other, consumed by their love and passion. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for them.

Derek rolled off of Stiles and curled in next to him, Stiles playing with Derek’s fingers as he put the other behind his head for support.

“Come back home.” It wasn’t a question or a demand, but a request. Stiles missed Derek and couldn’t imagine spending another minute without him.

Letting go of Stiles’s hand, Derek raised it to the boy’s face and pecked his lips, “You are my home.”

Forever Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​

[creativeashproductions]

Blessing in Disguise // Scott McCall

Summary: As a newlywed you were anticipating a blessing coming into your lives until you were ready. A cold night brings a new member into your family while also juggling the pack. Are you and Scott ready for the responsibility?

Characters: Scott McCall x Reader, OFC!Andy, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Malia Tate, Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall, Jackson x Ethan, Nolan Holloway (a reluctant pack member), Theo Raeken, Mason x Corey, Derek Hale, Liam Dunbar, OC!Reese, and OFC!Lucy.

Words: 4181

Disclaimer: I do now own Teen Wolf or the characters. I do not own any gifs that appear in this either or images because they’re probably off google images.

Warnings: Possible swearing, mention of death, car accident, angst, fluff and fighting.

Author: Caitsy.

A/N: A twisted version of the movie Life as We Know It with Katherine Heigel and Josh Duhamel.

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You stood there in the room staring at the little baby girl in a carrier ever so carefully set on the Sheriff’s desk. All she was did was sleeping through what you would consider the most life changing and heartbreaking thing. When Sheriff Stilinski called you into the station following a huge devastation in your life you didn’t expect this.

You twisted your ring on your wedding finger as the repercussions of losing your best friend impacted your life. Yesterday you were just a new wife of barely two months and now you were a mother also. And not in the traditional sense you had envisioned. Instead of happy, exhausted tears after a birth your face was painted with streams of watered down makeup and pain filled heart.

“W-what happened exactly?” You meekly questioned as a social worker stood stationary near the baby.

“Lucy and Reese were on their way home when a drunk driver hit them.” Sheriff Stilinski slowly began just at the door to his office burst open. You husband stood there taking in the room.

“Did they…they suffer?” You asked pressing your hand under your chin trying to keep from crying again.

“The medical examiner told me the force of the crash would have immediately died on impact. Their car was towed out of the water and a quick examination showed no struggle in their lungs.” Sheriff replied.

“What’s going on?”

“Scott. Lucy and Reese were killed last night around midnight.”

“They…they were celebrating their anniversary. It was the first night they weren’t home with Andy since they were still expecting.” You spoke. Your eyes still trained on the innocent little girl.

“Why are we here?” Your husband said coming closer to press a hand on your lower back. He was still in the scrubs he had left home in this morning.

“Lucy and Reese named you as the guardians for Andy if things would come to that.” The social worker replied stepping forward with her hand held out, “I’m Jane. I’ve been working after Andy since she was put in my care.”

“Wait. We’re now the parents of a little child?”

“Yes.”

“A cat or dog is significantly different from a baby.”

“Mr. McCall you have the right to make a decision if you want to place Andy up for adoption or not.” Jane said grabbing a bag to hand to you, “I’ve placed a list in the diaper bag of what you’ll need and how you should care for her. I know the first night is overwhelming amid the other emotions.”

“Uh. Thanks.” You mumbled while Sheriff sent a sympathetic smile at the two of you. Jane smiled reassuringly before she walked out of the office.

“I’ll drive you guys home.” Sheriff said grabbing his jacket from the hook.

“We can drive.” Scott said slowly walking to the carrier. His eyes were glued to the still form breathing with her lips only a tiny bit open.

“No you can’t. Scott you’re not blinking and not thinking properly.” Sheriff said placing his hand on Scott’s shoulder, “I’ll ask Parrish to take me home. Besides I still know my way around a car seat instalment.”

Needless to say Scott and you stood beside the car with Andy beginning to wake up and hushed profanities in the backseat. Sheriff was still trying to figure out the car seat.

“These damn things have changed!” Sheriff grunted leaning back to glare at the damn contraption.

“Things have changed Sheriff.” Scott chuckled, “You haven’t needed once since Stiles was a baby.”

“It shouldn’t be this difficult.”

“It’s been twenty-seven years since Stiles was physically able to fit in one.” You muttered as Scott awkwardly swayed Andy as her lip began to quiver.

“Don’t remind me that my adult son and the energy of a kid still.” Sheriff sighed pushing his hands into his hair as the rain started to fall, “That’s it.”

“Call Lydia?” Scott and you spoke at the same time knowing the genius would know. For christ sake she began a qualified professor because she was bored.

“I’d rather not call Ethan and Jackson.” You sighed rolling your eyes, “Jackson gloats about his kid and he would hold this over our head.”

“Jackson’s putting Max into kid lacrosse.” Scott replied, “He asked me if he would help train him.”

“Jackson did?” You asked shocked.

“Okay maybe Ethan asked me.” Scott chuckled as headlights lit you guys up and an annoyed girl got out of the vehicle.

“What do you need?” Lydia asked shutting her car off to join you, “When did you get pregnant and have a baby? I just saw you on Saturday.”

“This is Andy.” You grimaced as you remembered how you become the caregiver for the little girl.

“Andy as in Reese and Lucy’s little girl?” Lydia questioned stepping back in shock, “Lydia hadn’t been close with the couple but she had talked to them a little in high school.

“They were in an accident last night.” Scott supplied as Andy began to coo.

“Did they…”

“Yeah. They named us as the guardians.” Scott sighed as Lydia swooped in to correctly place the car seat in before undoing the straps of Andy to pull her jacket down and redoing the straps once she was done.

“Thank you.” You whispered watching as Andy latched onto her bunny with her mouth.

“If you need help call the Whittemores.” Lydia said beginning to walk back to her car, “Good luck.”

“This is really happening.” You sighed as Scott helped you to sit in the backseat before climbing into the front seat with the Sheriff.

“You’ll do fine. You have friends and family that will help.” Sheriff calmly stated, “You’ll figure it out.”

You had gotten into your small apartment while Sheriff was picked up by Parrish to return to the station. Scott placed Andy on the table before you realized something. You didn’t have anything for Andy to sleep in.

“Shit.” You groaned.

“Don’t swear in front of her.” Scott glared as he undid the straps to take Andy into his arms.

“We don’t have anything other than her diaper bag and carseat.” You sighed collapsing into the chair.

“Can we put her on the couch?”

“No. It’s not safe.” You sighed as the doorbell rang. Getting up you opened the door to see Ethan standing there with a small box and a larger one. Behind him Jackson stood holding their four year old son with striking features that matched Jackson.

“Lydia called us.” Ethan smiled coming in to place the boxes in the living room, “We have Max’s old crib and an extra play pen for you.”

“We got new things for our unborn baby.” Jackson smirked, “You can have the old ones.”

“Jackson shut up.” Ethan hissed before rolling his eyes.

“Your having another baby?” You questioned surprised.

“Our surrogate agreed to carry our baby again. We used Ethan’s sperm this time.”

“Sperm!” Max squealed clapping his hands together. Ethan groaned sending a heated glare to his husband.

“Stop talking.”

“Uh thanks.” Scott said grabbing one of the boxes to take to the spare room you had. It was empty seeing as you guys were saving up money for a house and you had just moved in last month.

“You should set up the play pen in your room for the night. She’ll want her parents and supporting her with help you all bond together.” Ethan said kneeling in the spare the spare bedroom to build the crib. Jackson bounced Max as the little boy yawned feeling the late night.

“Don’t heat the bottle in the microwave.” Jackson inserted, “Read stories to her.”

“Call if you need help.” Ethan said leaning back once the things were set up. Reaching for Jackson’s hand he led his family out of the apartment leaving you and Scott severely overwhelmed.

“We can do this right?” Scott gulped.

“I think so.” You nervously replied as Andy’s lip bang to quiver, “Is she going to-“

Andy interrupted your sentence by beginning to cry an insane amount. Shoving your hands into  your hair you winced at the height of the crying. What the hell do you do?

“What the hell.” Scott stated racing towards the diaper bag where three sheets of typed instructions were. Tips on what to do and how to do it.

“Maybe she’s hungry?” You suggested. Following the instructions to a ’t’ you gently picked up Andy from Scott to feed her. The only problem was that she immediately turned her face away, “Okay not hungry.”

“I’m calling my mom.” Scott called out over the screaming. You nodded while gently swaying with Andy.

You hummed remembering how you watched people in public places soothe their children but nothing was working. Her diaper was clean. She wasn’t hungry and the paper said she wasn’t teething yet. In the time you had seen her when her parents were living you barely remembered how they soothed her.

“I don’t think we can do this.” Scott sighed rubbing his tear-filled eyes. You were close to calling the social worker.

“Hey little bug.” You barely even heard Melissa walk into the apartment. Her soothing voice persuaded Andy to quiet down before she was smoothly switched into Melissa’s arms, “I’m Melissa. I’m his mother.”

While her screams weren’t as loud that didn’t mean that Andy was calming down at all. You were tempted to find any alcohol in the damn apartment but with Scott being unaffected you didn’t have any. Besides you didn’t want to start reluctant motherhood off as a drunken fool.

“Sweetheart you have stop crying. Hey can I tell you a story?” Melissa cooed gently bouncing Andy in her arms while supporting her head.

“Please. Please just stop crying.” You whimpered shoving your face into your hands. You didn’t even need to look to know that Scott was in the same boat.

It all came to a stop when Andy sighed before a sharp cute giggle came from her mouth. in her little hands was a slightly raggedy stuffed animal that had seen better days. You awed when Andy pulled the stuffed animal into her arms.

“How did you do that?” Scott marvelled with new respect for his mother.

“You were exactly the same. If you were crying and nothing helped we would give you this and you would quit crying on the spot.” Melissa explained, “This is Bear. It was yours.”

Scott smiled as his mother navigated parenthood with Andy within just a few moment. It was more calming then watching Ethan built both a crib and a play pen within ten minutes. It was more than a brainiac properly place a car seat in. It was knowing that a woman raising a son with a barely there father and then as the only parent he knew. If his mother could do this alone then Scott could do it with you.

“Thanks mom.” Scott whispered.

“It’s nothing.” Melissa grinned, “It’s more for my benefit because she is too cute.”

“I respect you so much more now.” Scott admitted hesitating to come closer to Andy.

“I’ll give you a tip. Parenting isn’t a science, you can’t learn everything from a book or an app. You learn through examples and by going through this. It’s scary, that I won’t lie, but it’s the most rewarding part of life.”

“Thank you.” You sighed as Melissa began to show you how to place Andy down and a visual presentation on how to do things.

“Did you know she doesn’t have a middle name?” You asked Scott as you sipped from the coffee cup early in the morning. You liked seeing a bare chested Scott cuddling Andy at the breakfast table while feeding her a bottle.

“She doesn’t?”

“When Lucy told me her name was Andy I asked her what the middle name was. Lucy told me that they wanted to choose her middle name when she was little older because it was a family tradition in Reese’s family.”

“Did they ever pick a name?”

“No. I wanted you to consider maybe giving her Reese as a middle name? I remember that Lucy was telling me that Reese is a family name. I want to keep that going so that Andy always had a piece of family.” You explained picking at the toast in front of you.

“We’ve had Andy for a week now. Have we decided if we want to keep her?” Scott asked shifting Andy into a proper burping position. He was rewarded with an adorable burp.

“I think we both know.” You chuckled looking at the little girl that was beginning to look like Lucy more and more each day.

“We should tell the pack.” Scott said looking up, “We could finally tell them that we have a little girl.”

��Guess we don’t need to find a babysitter for today.” You chuckled making faces at Andy.

That pack was having a more private school reunion to both celebrate surviving the perils of the supernatural. Things fluctuated in the town every once in a while with the large amount of the town knowing about the supernatural. If you were supernatural you were accepted by everyone but you were also aware of that invisible line between the humans and you guys.

“Do you think Lydia told Stiles?”

“Probably not.” You shrugged, “They haven’t spoke to each other in two years. Do you know what went wrong there? Lydia won’t tell me anything.” 
“Stiles won’t either.” Scott sighed, “They were together for nearly six years and out of no where broke up?”

“Distance?”

“Can’t be.” You huffed before grabbing Andy, “It’s my time on diaper duty.”

It was hard to adjust to having to remember you weren’t caring only for yourself anymore. You had to take it account of packing extra outfits if you went out for Andy, diapers and formula. You had make a schedule and not get frustrated when Andy woke you up in the night. You already loved her to bits though.

Of course you weren’t a whiz at parenthood yet, you called Melissa at least three days a day now which questions that most parents would find stupid. Melissa found it endearing and quite frankly was pleased that you two came to her for help instead of modern day technology.

“Did you grab extra diapers?” You called out with your keys in hand. You had placed your second hand car up for sale to get a better model, it would put a dent in your finances but you wanted safety for Andy.

“Yeah. Wipes are in there also.” Scott replied strapping Andy into her car seat with her ever present Bear. You swore she never could part with it unless it was bath time because her ducky took the role.

“We have the swing right?” You questioned turning the lights off in the room.

“Jackson and Ethan have their swing still set up.” Scott returned before opening up his newer SUV. His bike was still beside in it’s usual parking spot. Selling your car would allow you to use the SUV until you could buy a second hand vehicle of your own.

“We have everything.” You sighed as Andy gurgled with Bear’s ear in her mouth. The short journey to the Whittemore house was longer than usual and filled with the happy coos from the back seat.

Scott drove slower with Andy in the vehicle even if it meant getting rude gestures and yelling from passing vehicles. He couldn’t help it, you were both responsible for the safety of a vulnerable little human that couldn’t heal like Scott.

“How do you think Stiles will react?” You asked as the beat up jeep came into view parked on the street.

“It’s Stiles. We can’t right off the bat know what will happen.” Scott chuckled, “You want to grab the diaper bag?”

“Sure.” You shrugged while your husband shut the vehicle off to grab the curious baby.

Before either of you got to the door Ethan was already standing there with the door open and a welcoming smile on his face. Jackson would never truly admit it but marrying Ethan had mellowed him out and brought out of his egotistical self loathing. That and having a miniature version of himself helped.

“Hey guys.” Ethan smiled motioning you to step into the large foyer. Ethan knelt down to see Andy in all her glory.

You however continued into the living room where the pack was congregating as usual. Malia stood with her hands in her pockets striking up a conversation with Mason whereas Theo and Liam were bickering as usual. Corey was sitting the couch close to Mason. Nolan was shuffling on his feet under Stiles still suspicious look. Lydia was in a conversation with Alec, the newest member after the battle with Gerard and Monroe in Beacon Hills.

“I’m not into fashion or understanding it but that’s a strange version of a handbag.” Stiles said as you walked into the living room with the diaper bag resting on one shoulder.

“That’s because it isn’t.” Scott called out as he walked into the room.

“Who’s that?” Stiles asked walking closer, “I haven’t not seen you in nine months and I’m sure you would have told me about your child.”

“This is Andy. A week ago she came into our lives.”


“She looks a little older than a week.” Malia inserted sniffing the air to catch the baby’s scent, “Besides Y/N hasn’t changed.”

“This Lucy and Reese’s daughter. They were in an accident and we’re Andy’s guardians.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Stiles burst.

“They don’t have to tell you anything Stiles.” Lydia huffed rolling her eyes.

“Sounds like someone I know.” Stiles snapped back.

“Can you go have sex? I’m drowning in your pheromones and it’s annoying.” Malia grunted with a huff of breathe. She’s gotten better with the filter but it’s still a work in progress.

“Shut up.” Stiles grunted raising his hand to scratch his scruff that had build on his face. His eyes still that whiskey brown colour but it lacked the same youthful expression in them. He was haunted both by the supernatural and human nature of his life.

“She’s cute. Good thing she isn’t Scott’s kid.” Mason joked leaning in to get a look at the carseat, “You are adorable.”

“She is pretty cute.” Nolan blushed as eyes locked onto him. While he wasn’t going around stabbing random people he was still awkward.

“That’s a lot of responsibility.” Stiles interjected earning a heavy eyeroll from his ex-girlfriend.

“I think I can handle a baby if I can handle you.” Scott retorted as he began to unstrap Andy to meet everyone in the room. The poor baby was curious about everyone in the room that exuded power.

Being passed around wasn’t the greatest thing for a young child still adapting to life but she was irresistible to the pack. Even Theo was taken with the little girl that he wanted to sit by and talk because an innocent child wouldn’t know about the things he had done and judge him. Of course Stiles would try to keep him away.

“That’s rude.” Stiles chortled fearful when Andy reached out to him. Andy shoved her fist into her mouth while staring at the male, “Why is she staring at me?”

“Maybe she likes your ugly mug.” Theo smirked earning another glare from his least favourite person.

“I’m guessing we can’t use the alcohol?” Malia questioned.

“It wouldn’t even work on you.” Mason said shaking his head.

“But it’s fun to drink and watch others be idiots.” Malia retorted crossing her arms.

“No alcohol.” Lydia said shaking her head as she wandered closer to the baby, “Can I hold her?”



“She seems pretty enamored with Stiles.” You said shifting on your feet.

“I don’t know why.” Lydia breathed rolling her eyes at the mention of her ex-boyfriend.

“You were once enamored with me too.” Stiles goaded with an uncharacteristic smirk painted on his face. Scott and you slowly backed out of the room causing a rippling effect when everyone else began to also.

Unaware of not having an audience Lydia and Stiles came toe to toe as the tension burst from the awkwardness and agony between each. In the two years each had manage to not speak to one another amid the reasoning behind being stubborn. Each didn’t want to admit that the relationship failed because they weren’t properly communicating like they should have.

“Does anyone know why they broke up?” You challenged sitting on the lounge chair in the backyard. Everyone had found their own little spot to converse on while the two inside continued.

“Honestly?” Malia asked, “Lydia wouldn’t budge and she always managed to keep her chemo-signals from giving away her reactions.”

“It’s the same with Stiles. He did everything he could to not be in the presence of us. Making excuses of working and broken down vehicles.” Scott admitted bouncing Andy on his knee, “In the time since their relationship ended I’ve only seen him in person a few times and our wedding was the longest.”

“It’s Stiles.” Jackson snorted leaning back in his chair. Ethan keeping a hand on his thigh as he did so.

“It was bound to explode.” Corey said shifting on his feet, “Like the fight between Scott and Stiles when Theo was still an ass-“

“Still is.” Liam mumbled dodging a swing from the boy in question.

“It’s my house and I’m kicked out of it.” Jackson grunted.

“We don’t use the backyard much.” Ethan hummed looking over the large green fenced in area.


“That’s because we’re either in the living room, kitchen or spending quality time in our bed.” Jackson retorted with a playful smirk.

“There’s no fighting.” Malia interrupted cocking her head to the side, “It’s silent.”

Sharing a look with Scott you gently shifted Andy from your arms into Liam’s. Like Stiles Liam looked fearful at being left with a baby. Pushing the door open you slinked in with some pack members behind you to peak into the living room. Standing in the middle of the room with his one hand in her hair and her head resting on his chest was a serene image of the couple you remembered from graduation.

“Maybe we should take Andy to the park before it gets dark.” Jackson whispered to the group.

“Are you being nice to Stiles.” You questioned shocked.

“I don’t care about the spaz. I care about her, she’s had it rough her entire life and I admit I contributed to it. She deserves happiness and he makes her happy.” Jackson lightly smiled pulling Ethan’s hand into his own, “We’ll just get the housekeeper to clean every inch of the house and maybe get a new couch.”

“I knew he couldn’t not be an ass.” Mason huffed albeit the sight of the Stydia reunion making his grab Corey’s hand in his.

Andy was able to pull her self up onto the couch and make hesitated steps along the couch as she wobbled and just in the last few days she was walking by her self. In the eight months you had been her parent you had become more confident in your parenting and it became easier. You were adamant that each night you told Andy a story of her biological parents and had a picture hanging on the wall in her nursery.

There was a routine and having Stiles and Lydia over once a week helped maintain stability in your non parenting social group while being parents. You also liked knowing that Andy was the sole reason that Stiles and Lydia were happily back together with an engagement ring on Lydia’s finger now.

“Mama!” Andy called with a large almost toothless grin.

“Come on Andy! Say Stiles!” Stiles groaned from the living room carpet.

“Mama!”

“No! Stiles. Sti…les.” Stiles slowly spoke gently grasping Andy’s hand.

“It’s a lost cause.” Scott chuckled as he set down a plate of food to cool down for Andy, “She calls everyone Mama.”

You awed when Scott bent down to scoop Andy into his arms to blow a raspberry on her cheek. It was a perfect Hallmark moment with Scott snuggling your daughter and Stiles haphazardly stretched out on the ground with a severe case of uncle fever.

“Hey Lydia! Can we have one?” Stiles called out to the kitchen where Lydia was finishing putting a salad together.

“Stiles. I’m not being pregnant during the summer.” Lydia mused thinking of all the pros and cons of it.

“Wait is that a yes?!” Stiles exclaimed tripping over himself.

“Our babies could be best friends or date!” Scott burst excitedly.

“That’s quite a-“

“YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” Lydia gushed dropping the knife you hug you, “Oh my god! That’s why we aren’t having wine!”

“We are. We’re looking at a small house near Melissa’s house.” You admitted resting your hands on your small bump, “We’re thinking of naming the baby after Lucy. Luke for boy and Lucy for a girl.”

“Stiles!” Andy gleefully yelled clapping her hands.

Forever Tag List

@cityofsobbingfangirls @tas898 @barbidollash @trustnobodyshootfirst @winchesterfanfiction @deanwinchesterisamazing @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @padackles2010 @msimpala67 @deangirl5509 @heyitssilverwolf @therealme13posts @petlaufeyson @professionally-crazed @winterhurricane @tearsandbloodofmyenemies @blackwidow-romanoff @crazybarnes @marvelofcourse @takemetothefictionalworld @destiel67bellarke @ohmy-sammy @fightinthepain @vivabucky @waituntilthedustsettles @daydreaming1393 @cumonbucky @inhumans-of-shield @basicwhiskeyprincesss @soulfull-ofevans @spookass @glitterintheairblog @girl-with-wild-dreams @frickin-bats @darkestgrungeuniverse @shamvictoria11 @buckyappreciationsociety @sammysgirl1997 @fly-f0rever @archer-whovian-violinist @jenn0755 @anamarieswift2194 @unicornofdanger @ifyoudie @jealousbitxh @stormin-thru-glitter @sparklyaura @stilescstilinski @curlyxtomato @katshrev @its-sanaa-k @theoismydad @im-a-light-child @tmriddler @flirtswithdanger @divide-supermarketflowers @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1 @introverted-fandom-human @jennylj16 @potterandbucky @harleenq4life @runs-with-sciss0rs @superhero-lover101 @ridingmoxley

Teen Wolf Tag List

@kitschkylo @zachmantle @30inlovewiththecoco1 @kris-nic0le @faypol​

[dr-archeville]

Durham's Getting a New Cocktail Bar

Everything you need to know this morning

Thank you to this week's sponsor, The Nasher Museum of Art at Duke University.  The Nasher is collaborating with Duke Arts and Duke Health an outdoor exhibition and public awareness campaign. The project emphasizes the disproportionate impact of the deadly virus on the lives of communities of color

The INDY’s former editor has started a newsletter of his own.  You can access PRIMER by Jeffrey Billman at ncprimer.substack.com.

Support the INDY Press Club: Better Journalism for a Better Community

It's Friday, October 9.

Hey y'all,

Somehow, I ended up breaking Friday's newsletter in a way that repeated a bunch of stuff I'd written while also deleting my sweet, sweet bullet points which help me organize my thoughts. Apologies to everybody about that.

Wow, it really rained yesterday. Our dogs always get weird about going outside when it's rainy, so then they just end up sleeping and being lazy all day. Maybe they take cues from their humans, who also tend to get sleepy and lazy when it rains out. Anyhoo, here's what you need to know to start your week off. FYI, today's INDY Daily will be a bit shorter than usual due to the Indigenous People's Day holiday.

Like the INDY Daily? Share it with your friends and ask them to subscribe!

The INDY Daily is made possible by the INDY Press Club, which is helping us keep fearless, independent local journalism viable in the Triangle.

The Perils of Opening a Bar During a Pandemic

Have y'all ever seen that Tom Cruise movie Cocktail? I haven't, but I really enjoy watching this YouTube video of a scene where Tom Cruise and his bartender friend make cocktails while doing a goofy, synchronized dance. And despite having never seen Cocktail, I was ambiently aware of it as a child to the point where I thought that people went to bars in order to watch bartenders perform the act of making a cocktail. Only later did I discover that people actually go to a bar to... drink the cocktails? Anyways, I bring this all up because the folks behind Durham Distillery are opening up a real, non-Tom-Cruise-related cocktail bar in downtown Durham. It's called Corpse Reviver, and don't worry, there's a patio.

Opening a business is challenging in even the best of circumstances, let alone the utter weirdness of coronavirus, something that Corpse Reviver owners Melissa and Lee Katrincic are well aware of.

Originally planned to welcome customers in the spring, the Katrincics took the summer to make sure that their bar could be as safe as possible. They've installed a hospital-grade air filtration system and devised a plan to keep both customers and staff safe through making Corpse Reviver reservation-only and requiring guests to have their temperature taken prior to entry as well as sign contact-tracing waivers.

The Katrincics join a number of Durham drinkeries that have re-opened -- Surf Club is back in business, as well as Bar Brunello, each in a limited capacity.

Corpse Reviver will share a space with the Katrincics' Durham Distillery, located at 715 Washington Street, and be open Thursday to Saturday evenings as well as on Sunday afternoons. Opening day is October 15, and they'll have oodles of drinks made from the Distillery's gins.

Statewide COVID-19 by the numbers: Sunday, October 11

1,719 New lab-confirmed new cases (231,471 total; seven-day average trending upward)

34,110 Completed tests (3.38 million total; most recent positive rate was 5.5 percent)

1,046 Current hospitalizations reported (seven-day average holding steady; 3,770 total deaths)  

Quick Hits

Here's a fun story about the origin of the Devil's Tramping Ground, the legendary area in Chatham County with mysteriously dead soil. The soil, we've learned, is sterile, but we have no idea why -- and it's been that way since before the American Revolution. [WRAL]

Coronavirus aid packages meant to help those in economic peril have not gone far enough, and North Carolinians have suffered as a result. [News & Observer]

Peek behind the scenes of the craziest few days in the Trump Administration's history. He says he's better, but, ehhhhhhh, it could just be the steroids talking. [New York Magazine]

Binkley Memorial Baptist Church announced that its former pastor, Rev. Robert Seymour, has died at the age of 95. A civil rights activist, in the 1960s Seymour used the pulpit to advocate for racial integration and social justice and helped found the Inter-Faith Council for Social Service. [Chapelboro]

UNC-Chapel Hill's football team beat Virginia Tech on Saturday, outscoring the Hokies 56-45. [Associated Press]

Today's weather: Cloudy with occasional showers throughout the day, but clearing up in the evening. High of 76, low of 60.

Song of the day: "A Really Good Time" by Roxy Music

I spent a lot of Saturday cleaning and listening to Roxy Music's albums Country Life and Stranded. Those dudes were really on to something. In "A Really Good Time," vocalist Bryan Ferry warbles poetic about the power of love. As the strings swell, he keeps warbling, but stronger, with conviction, in ways that no one besides Bryan Ferry could pull off.

— Drew Millard — Send me an email | Find me on Twitter

If you’d like to advertise your business to the Daily's 33,000-plus subscribers, please contact John Hurld at jhurld@indyweek.com.

Love the INDY Daily? Support it by joining the INDY Press Club.

[hickorycreekrp-blog]

Out of Character:

Name/Alias: Rosa

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 25 years old

Timezone: GMT -3

Face Claim Preferences: Melissa Benoist

Character Basics:

Full Name: Sarah Elizabeth Lincoln

Nicknames/Prefers: Sarah

Age: 28 years old

Occupation: English Teacher (High School)

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Female

Hometown: Hickory Creek

Current Neighborhood: Hickory Square

Highest Education: Masters Degree

Religion: Catholic

Family and Relationships:

Parents: Marie Lincoln (mother, deceased), Anthony Lincoln (father, deceased).

Siblings: Jennifer Lincoln (older sister), James Lincoln (older brother), Katie Lincoln (younger sister).

Children: N/A.

Other: N/A.

Pets: Teacup Maltese named Snow.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual.

Romantic Orientation: Heteroromantic.

Marital Status: Single.

Personality:

Favorite Film: The Shining (or anything horror).

Favorite TV Show: Friends and How I met your mother.

Favorite Book: The Surgeon by Tess Gerritsen.

Favorite Song: Hey Jude by The Beatles.

Favorite Color: Blue.

Likes: Flowers, Disney, Paranormal, Books, Coffee, Tea, Astronomy, Puzzles, Cupcakes, Salt Water Toffee, Hot Chocolate, Animals, Photography, Rain and Painting.

Dislikes: Germs, Drama, Being Alone, Thunder Storms, Funerals, Cars, Mac and Cheese, Small Spaces, Nutella and Dolls.

History:

Growing up in a wealthy family might be what most people wish in life, however when it came to Sarah, that wasn’t exactly the case. Hardly fitting in the way young girls her age who went to the prestigious boarding school thirty minutes away from her hometown behaved, Sarah found herself wanting to constantly get out of the box she was unwillingly put in where certain expectations should be met and certain things should be said which made most of it all almost robotic to her.

Naturally, she was the odd one out, nearly a walking cliche as her older sister (who really did fit in truly with the way life was led there) would say. As a walking cliche, Sarah found that being the odd one out was hard and messed with her confidence (and a little bit with her mind). It wasn’t without much effort that she managed to convince her father (and prime confident) to convince her mother (and prime nemesis) to allow her to attend public school. What a scandal to the Lincoln family who resided in a large home and owned acres of land, what a scandal to the society who cared about it, and the fact that her mother was worried about her social status was something illogical for the girl, in the very least. However, then again, perhaps she cared so deeply because her older son, James, was quick to follow his younger sister. Both of her older daughters, through, stood quiet in their spot (which could only be considered as the main reason why Marie didn’t pass of a heart attack that year).

Public school didn’t quite manage to be the escape of the world she lived in. While some students thought nicely of her for coming from a well-funded family, there were plenty of others who thought quite less than that and quite less of her, which caused Sarah to only rely on her brother for some security and spend as many hours as she could in the library, studying her way out of there (perhaps another cliche of the rich girl who wanted to get out of her home on her own merit and not on the merit of her parents’ money). She wasn’t exactly the most well coordinated person in the world, so, although having received invitations to join the cheerleading squad and other squads, it was impossible not to walk away injured from any other sports, which made Sarah focus on what she really liked, the academia.

Being curious was her deal. Nestled in books ever since she figured out what they could bring her, Sarah could say that she found herself in every other subject, there wasn’t really something she didn’t like and it was a passion she shared with her father. Something that bonded them together besides blood. The man, in his infinite wisdom of ways to give his children birthday presents, built a book wall in their home for Sarah in her first birthday after being admitted to university. It was the only thing besides her brand new little sister (who was born just before the end of the senior year), her brother and her father that kept her chained and rooted to Hickory Creek and Rose Acres.

Yale was a breath of fresh air and a slap on the face at the same time. Although constantly thinking she didn’t fit in the life she led, Sarah would admit that she had it all easy so far and there was nothing that truly pushed her to the edge or made her feel challenged. That’s it, until she moved to a big city and encountered people who were far beyond anything she had ever been in her life. It was astounding at the same time it was just plain scary. To say it took weeks before she could even adjust to the cars honking on her window at night or her roommate who often brought people back to their dorms regardless of her being there or not, was a complete understatement. Sarah suffered of loneliness, anxiety and was very sleep deprived, nevertheless, she persisted.

It was a dream and she didn’t believe in easy things, but she did believe in her words, her voice, her inspiration and her passion to make something of hers. It was easy to persist when every time she came back home she listened to her mother explicitly saying that she could not make it, it was easy to want to stay away from criticism and focus on her entire life ahead of her. It was hard to keep a positive attitude, but she tried. It was especially hard before coming home for Christmas, two years into the college life, especially because she had been robbed close to her dorm, beaten and left. She only ever came home because James told her to and while her father was worried, her mother was trying to convince her to come back home and take part of the family business. It was ludicrous in her mind — she returned to Yale on Christmas morning and didn’t come back for another eight years.

Visits were received in New York, her father came to visit her constantly and accompany her progress. Her brother, who often made their little sister tag along when she was old enough and even her older sisters who took a wonky kind of pride in her sister living in a big city (maybe something they wanted for themselves, but never could quite make it). Family was often seen, not her mother. After the spat they had that Christmas morning, they proved to be equal in their pride and kept their distance from one another.

Sarah did thrive. She graduated with honors and an English Literature diploma, worked as a teacher while in her post-graduation program and had some experience as an editor while working on her Masters Degree. Years in New York did not suck her spirit and her rather cheerful persona, maybe it was her sweetness, kindness and gentleness that took her to great places, more places than she thought she would be in her life. Alas, home called her again, but this time it was different from all the others. There was an accident with no survivors that took both of her parents while they were coming back from one of the parties subsided by them and now it’s the first time in eight years that Sarah steps back into the town she grew up in. It’s been years since she spoke to her old friends and foes, maybe it’s a bit lucky that it’s in the same year that marks ten years since she graduated high school. She isn’t exactly eager to be back, but she knows that at least for now, it’s goodbye New York, because Hickory Creek is the place where she needs to be.

[waldos-writing]

The Dig Initiative: Chapter 23

The Log of Dr. Fletcher

Internal Registry: Dr. Melissa Fletcher, PhD in Neuroscience 2032, Psychiatry in 2032, subseciality clinical neurophysiology from 2032-2035, general practice 2036-2046; moved to Hope General Care in 2044.

Brought in as a consultant for Montemille trials, 03.10.2044. Per her mentor, Dr. Yorick Juliens:

…if, on record, I would admit that Dr. Fletcher would be a keen eye for clinical trial 212. She has an unwavering patience and an inhuman amount of decency for these individuals, which would be seen as a weakness except for her work with interrogation and integration. Her open kindness, while an asset to help control and/or console the individuals, has so far not deterred her from what is necessary to see the trial moved forward to the potentially fatal step in our procedure. She knows what is at stake. And she is comfortable with the knowledge that this is going to help people in the future. We are close to successful turnover, and I believe moving from NVRA to NARA will be successful. I would gladly have Melissa on my team.

Fletcher joined in the second round of NARA pre-trials at Montemille facility in 2035. Charged with seventeen of the sixty patients who had survived the first neurological enhancement drug testing led two sessions of augmented reality simulation with the prototype WsTWD, precursor to the eventual Westwood Trial simulator.

 NARA pre-trial, WsTWD session 02 with Subjects 01, 09, 22:

Per protocol, Subject 12 has been moved to quarantine. Has started the fever stage. Talk to Dr. Juliens tomorrow about reworking the serum to account high protein concentrations in blood samples. Still having trouble with calcium in urine samples. Josh tells me not to beg. WsTWD session 02 ‘REFORMATIVE DREAM.’ Add to the atmosphere as we introduce them to the test.

Subject 09 and 22 have grade F sedative patches. Is this a Band-Aid solution to keeping them viable after the inevitable? Cold transfusion slowed it down last night, maybe we make it past 48 hours. Izzie had a seizure before the ice bath. Not sure if she will be available for the third session.

Subject 01 has been the most resilient patient in the program. He is perceptive, attentive to instructions by myself and the staff, and eager to please. We just might see our efforts brought to fruition. High hopes. One concern, have to discuss with Josh. While all patients in the program suffer from a wide range of psychosis, Subject 01 hasn’t shown improvement with counseling. Dramatic sociopath personality disorder. Boasts first that he was the second Jesus come, that he was the only messiah of God, and finally that he was God himself and we would all fall at his feet when he was given into his natural powers. Histrionic, narcissistic. Not my first choice. Believe he even stole status as Subject 01 from a John Doe. Research still needed. Concerns of sadism towards Subjects 10, 13, and 19 [note: 10 history of self-destructive behavior must be ruled out). Charmer. Compare to session 01 notes with Josh. Don’t let him play you.

Hypothesis on NARA restructure with scans of Subject 01 CT scan and MRI:

Intent on continuing with the remaining subjects. We’re going to session 3 following track of Subject 01 and Dr. Grailee’s Subject 47. ‘THE PATH.’ How many times….Talked to Juliens. Josh let go. Can’t get a hold of him outside the office. Check for his address. NARA is augmenting the damaged areas. Needs severely underdeveloped frontal cortex to avoid rapid overexpansion. Great news, obviously, for the initial purpose of the clinical trials, but I believe Juliens and his team have ideas for something else. Fever everyone has exhibited is the body fighting off a wildfire tearing through their brain. Whatever the reason, these are the ones who can survive it. Regrowth. Not regrowth, rebuilding. More accurately, freshly building segments of the brain that did not exist before. Maybe we can figure out how to alter this to repair damaged brain tissue.

Strange aura present in the MRI scan. Also, check on the anomaly in Subject 31. According to records, Subject 31 should not have survived NARA injection. Too much healthy tissue. Appears to have been chemically lobotomized. Muscular hypertrophy symptom adverse event. Subject 47 no longer suffering auditory hallucinations but emotional response shutting down. Subject 01 is playing off of her. They’ve made themselves a pair. We are getting close. I’m just not sure to what.

Note from Dr. Juliens dated 10.11.44:

Pulling Melissa off the project. Send her credentials on to Hildebard. Maybe Hope Center will take her. Move forward with the partnerships. Serum for 01-47.

Locke Security Clearance 6

Fletcher, Melissa. Processed through ALTAMIRA 11.14.46. Holding cell standard, order of Lawrence DuVang. Retrieval by Domestic Division Agents Shutters and Poole. Commendation and 3% increase bonus pay. –Check your paystub, think Brandley shorted us, S.

Altamira Data: audio recording with Agent Shutters and Fletcher, dated 01.01.47:

 Shutters: Well, Happy New Year! What a surprise. Don’t know if they brought you the champagne I asked. Probably not. Is that the food ration? Mm. Supposed to be that gray, you think? Listen, I won’t argue the validity of that, but, hey, eat what you eat and be pleased it’s there, I guess. How are you liking the place? It’s nice enough, you know? I thought, given your history, you’d rather like working here. Got yourself a whole crew of people under your belt, if you took it. And now, you seen those machines? Way better contact and readout for the trials. I’ve seen the old equipment you guys used to use in Montemille for Westwood? Barbaric! This scanner they have in there is eons better than the old one. So, why do you keep pulling this self-pitying routine like it’s your only saving grace?

Fletcher: I’m not going to be harassed back into this. Is Juliens out there?

Shutters: Don’t know anybody by that name, but it’s not my place, you know. Not my deal. I got my own to beck and call and serve and all, so, you know. Names. Pfft. No, now listen. Please.

[A sigh on the recording, followed by silence].

Shutters: This is between you and me. I don’t know when you walk out of here or if you walk out of here again, but I have questions too, and maybe you’re the only one who has the answers that’s willing to share them with me.

Fletcher: Why would I?

Shutters: Kindness of your heart. Human decency. I don’t know what gets your tinker toys going, just do this for me.

Fletcher: I’m not—!

[Muffled audio, sharp bang of something striking the wall]

Shutters: Just. Listen.

Fletcher: Stay back

Shutters: First thing is I saw your log on the original trials. You had your hand on Subject 01, right? Bonafide numero uno. Our progenitor, right? Cause I can’t tap my finger on who that is, but they’d have to be high up, wouldn’t they? Second things not adding and multiplying is that it ain’t Lawrence DuVang, I can say that plain as day and be right as rain. Man doesn’t have a talented bone in his body. And if that man did get through it all spiffed up and shiny clean…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t…. Who’s Subject 01?

Fletcher: That was so long ago.

Shutters: Wasn’t really.

Fletcher: And I wasn’t the only one there.

Shutters: Only one left I can find.

Fletcher: I don’t even remember who…?

Shutters: Right, you see? You see, I’ve been reading up on this. Swiped myself a good access badge too. Oh I like hunting and finding things, always have, always did, always will. And what I can say is I’ve learned a few things. Things like how they started with the injections but they’re moving on up to this aerosol deliverable type deal originally used on children, can you even believe that? Something in the file about oracles. Don’t ask me what it is, I don’t know. The CM I pulled it out of didn’t know either and, wouldn’t you know it, I still ended up killing him and his augmenter because they just blab to anyone who asks the right way. Can you believe? Well, now they got this plan to go through and disperse it through the CleanAire towers filtration. What a crazy crock that is, isn’t it? Ah, I don’t think I mind as much as I’m saying I mind, more for show than tell.  Maybe it’d be good, we get all the turnovers out of the way and, poof, wipe out anyone who doesn’t have that space in their heads to complete it, right? But, see, then aren’t we just giving the gift to people who haven’t been introduced to the program correctly?

Fletcher: They’re going to infect everyone?

Shutters: Right. Heights is our big trial. I think they’re going to take this show on the road, though. Air. All of us have to breath it. Seems like Subject 01 doesn’t even care if he bulldozes right over everyone, and I didn’t think I did either, but I keep imagining if they do this, we’re either outnumbered by the wild ones or we drop the population too low and maybe then we really are out of luck. Plus, I mean, what’s that thing they said about the kids? Child plasticity is great, but for some reason or another it doesn’t stick. You hear about all the littles they killed? Almost 100%. That’s just cruel to be cruel at this point, and I know that. I am right there on the money with that. So they kill too many adults and all the little kiddies. All them dead bodies everywhere. It’s gonna be rotten as hell, can’t you think? Imagine it.

Fletcher: He’s insane.

Shutters: Me?

Fletcher: Yeah, you too.

Shutters: Course he is. Course I am. Had to be. Said so right in the notes, damaged tissue or underdeveloped areas. Big old spaces in the head to make room. But, thing is, whatever all that happened happened, but maybe we don’t let the biggest and craziest of them try and Armageddon us off this rock.

Fletcher: Do you think you can stop him?

Shutters: Well, it’ll take a bit. I’ve gotta get myself a new partner first. The big guy I paired with is dumber than a sock of stones, or whatever it is. I’d do him a disservice not to tap his brain and make him a White Jacket, you know? I’ll get him moved over, if I can. I don’t even really know, ha ha, I don’t know if you can make the jump. Ha! Might just kill him anyways! Oh, Poole, you sonovabitch, I’m…. I’m getting ahead of myself. Just give over the name, let me see what I can pull and I’ll keep you updated. What are you going to do anyways? Leave? Ha ha ha ha—

Fletcher: Diggs. His name was Diggs.

Shutters: Hmm? Diggs. Mmm. Mmmmmmmmmm. Well, look, I don’t have a leg on it yet, but I will. And I’ll let you know what I have when I can. You sit pretty, Pretty. I’ll be seeing you again.

-End Recording-

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Serving my time (watching hey Melissa)

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Ad break after whatever the fuck that was

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She’s bringing other people to meet the people she has captive??? What is wrong with her!!!!

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FREDDY IS THE REAL MVP OF THIS EPISODE?

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Mariah’s performance is scaring me actually

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SHE CUT OFF HIS FINGERS????

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Ted I love you but honestly if anything happens to you this episode it’s your fault

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Okay I didn’t want things to get that much worse for Ted

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Her friends are just as weird nevermind

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Another ad break time to contemplate what I’ve seen!