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sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy · 24 days ago

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Stiles is Supernatural Crack

10. Road Trips Are the Best When You Don’t Have to Drive

And, with an epilogue longer than the first three chapters combined(11.6k words), our story comes to a close. It's been a fun ride, y'all, but this is it.

Derek kept a hand on Stiles’ back as they walked out of the train depot. Stiles looked at the full moon and grabbed his head. It was like an echo chamber of howling wolves. They wanted out. They hurt. They wanted to go home.

“Derek, we need to go. Now,” Stiles huffed, gritting his teeth as he trudged to the jeep.

Derek opened the jeep door to help Stiles in, telling him “we will. Need to stop at the loft and tell the others. We can—”

“No. Now, Derek,” Stiles said seriously. He glared at Derek as if it was his fault. He was breathing heavily, trying to suppress the anger and fear and sadness of the wolves in his head. “We are leaving now. I’ll call Scott but we are going,” Stiles said, getting in the jeep. He left no room for argument, closing the door behind him.

Derek rolled his eyes, biting back a growl. Stiles wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t himself. Derek didn’t like it. It was all wrong.

He got in the jeep and looked at Stiles. What he saw in Stiles’ face… it was like he wasn’t there. It wasn't like when he was possessed by the Nogitsune, not like someone else controlling him. No, Stiles looked vacant, like no one was there, like he gotten so into his head that he couldn't get back out. They didn’t have time to wait around or to argue with the pack about going. Stiles was struggling for control. He was fighting for his own mind, his own body, and didn't seem to be winning.

Derek had to help him. If he wanted Stiles back, they had to find a way to give the magic back to the wolves it was stolen from. The only way he knew how to help do that was to drive. he could drive and make sure Stiles was physically well but the mental and magic was up to him.Derek would have taken it all for Stiles if he could but he couldn't.

He started the jeep, his grip tight on the wheel. Derek huffed, getting them on the road. “Where are we going?”

“Sacramento.”

Derek nodded and started for the highway. There weren't many others out at this time of night but Derek felt like they were in a room full of people and completely alone all at once, the scents of the wolves in Stiles' head surrounding them. Emotions rolled off Stiles like waves in a storm. It was terrifying, not knowing what was going to happen. Derek couldn't help glancing at Stiles as he drove.

Stiles sat, looking absently at his hands as they drove. Tears trailed down his face, slow, and silent. He could feel the wolves in his head crying for their other halves, for their families, for their homes… They were hurting. Being away from where they belonged hurt. Some told their stories, called out names, or begged for comfort. They were old and young and in between. The youngest was only ten, a child who had half of them taken away without warning.

Seeing the tears rolling down Stiles’ face, Derek wanted more than anything to reach out to him. To pull over and hold him until the tears stopped but knew it wouldn't be better until Stiles was alone in his own mind again so Derek drove and he kept driving. He drove because it was the only thing he could do. He was relieved when Stiles fell into an uneasy sleep.

The sun was breaking the horizon when Stiles sat up, breaking out of sleep like he rose from the dead. “There. That one,” Stiles said, pointing at an exit.

Derek followed the directions as Stiles gave them but it didn’t sound like him. His tone and cadence were strange. He sounded like a different person and smelled… off. He was a flood of excitement as they got closer. Derek felt uneasy, the smell of multiple people filled the jeep again.

Derek parked in a lot near a bundle of houses. It looked like a summer camp with people– werewolves– running around. When the jeep parked in their space, everything stopped.

Derek reached across the front seat, grabbing Stiles. He didn’t need Stiles jumping out and accidentally starting a war. The pack moved closer and a low growl resonated in Derek’s throat. He might be on their territory but they were too close to. Too close to Stiles.

“Stay in the jeep,” Derek told Stiles, unbuckling his seat belt. “I’ll tell you when to get out.”

“I know their Emissary and their Alpha. We’re on good terms,” Stiles said, watching Derek. “I can help. I’m–”

“You are not an Emissary, Stiles! You don’t know how this works. I do,” Derek said seriously, sounding more harsh than he meant to. He turned off the jeep and set the key in Stiles' lap.

Stiles crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat. He rolled his eyes and looked out at the pack. Something in Stiles’ eyes changed, longing filled his eyes as he looked at them– the feelings of a torn spirit. Stiles came back to himself and swallowed the lump in his throat. Sympathy washed over him as he started out the windshield.

Derek stepped into his view, towards the pack, and Stiles couldn’t think. Before he thought not to, Stiles got out of the jeep and rushed to Derek’s side. He got a glare from Derek as he walked toward him.

Derek huffed a sigh, turning to hold a hand up to stop Stiles. “Stay behind me,” he said, more worry and exhaustion than anger. “Listen this time.” He turned back to the pack and gave a respectful nod to the alpha. “I’m Derek Hale, a beta in the McCall pack of Beacon Hills. This is Stiles Stilinski, the future Emissary of the McCall pack.”

“I am Alpha Julia of the Rosewood Pack. This is my Emissary Saffi,” she motioned to the smiling young woman next to her, “and we know who Stiles is,” the tall woman said. She gave her full attention to Stiles and smiled. She knew his work and trusted many pack issues to his care. “What are you doing here, dear?”

Stiles smiled back at her, a feeling of safety that wasn’t his rise in him. “It’s about Casey and Willow,” Stiles said softly, knowing it was hard to talk about.

The alpha frowned, her nose scrunching at the familiar scent coming off of Stiles. “They are in no state to answer questions and we know nothing we haven’t told you.”

“I know,” Stiles nodded, licking his lips. “I think I can help them. Can you take me to them?”

Derek’s arm was once again blocking Stiles from the other werewolves. “Take us. I need to stay with Stiles, you understand that.”

The alpha looked at her second, a silent conversation playing out, before she nodded. “That is acceptable but I will have two of my own stay with you. You understand,” she said and Derek nodded.

Two betas lead Derek and Stiles to a small house. The first room they entered was filled with medical supplies. As they walked down a hall, they stopped outside a door. When it opened, two people sat inside, looking almost catatonic. Stiles flinched, feeling two of the lost spirits howling with joy.

Stiles walked into the room and kneeled in front of the first person. He knew her name instantly. “Hi Willow, I’m Stiles,” he whispered, looking the girl over. She was lost, unable to focus on anything. “I think I know how to help you. Can I hold your hand?”

Stiles looked back at the betas that had escorted them in and got a nod. He looked back at Willow and carefully took the woman's hand. He could see her ripped spirit, the jagged edges of where part of her had been ripped away. She was half a person. Stiles could feel the wolf trying to get to her. It was clawing at him, trying to get to her. It screamed and cried and howled, longing for its other half. Stiles closed his eyes pushing at the wolf’s spirit, trying to return it where it belonged.

It was like an explosion of energy when the two halves found each other. Stiles was knocked back on his ass. Before he even opened his eyes, Derek was by his side. He looked at Willow. She was crying in joy, one of the beta holding her in their arms.

“Are you okay,” Derek asked, helping Stiles up.

“I'm fine. Is she,” Stiles asked, watching her. “Is she okay?”

Stiles looked at Derek and knew. Derek would help him. He’d walk with Stiles to the ends of the Earth. The only question was if he wanted to or had to. Stiles looked at Derek, looked beyond what even an alpha could see. He looked at Derek's spirit and found it entwined with his own. He couldn’t see where his ended and Derek’s started.

Stiles pulled out of Derek’s hold and shook his head. For a split second, Stiles saw hurt in his eyes that quickly returned to the cold demeanor Derek kept. He glanced at Willow, telling Derek he still had work to do.

He wanted to stay close to Stiles. He wanted to be next to him, he needed to, but Stiles… He pulled away from Derek. He needed space. He wanted Derek to back off.

He watched Stiles, silently cursing the universe for picking mates. Derek didn’t want to have a mate. It was exposing in every way, being impossibly attached to another person. It didn't feel like their feelings didn’t matter, as if the choices had been made from them.

Stiles approached slowly, knowing that two scared and confused werewolves could destroy their only hope of salvation if spooked. Now he wished Derek was at his back. Stiles looked past the nervous betas and into Willow’s eyes. They didn’t look empty or lost any more. She looked back at Stiles with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Can I see your hand,” Stiles asked gently, unsure what she’d be feeling.

Willow held her hand out to him and he took it in his. When he touched her hand, he lost his breath. He felt like he was watching a masterpiece form. Her spirit looked like a Kintsugi bowl, shattered to pieces and repaired with gold. The lines running through her torn spirit where she was putting herself back together. Even being newly returned, Stiles could see the girl was very strong, her spirit burned brighter and larger than any of the others.

Stiles let go of her hand with a smile. He could do this. He could help them. And if he could help them, he wouldn’t stop until he’d helped all of them.

Stiles moved to the other person, Casey. They were staring at the ceiling, no life to their eyes. He took their hand, focusing on the wolf spirit trying to rip its way out. This time he was ready. This time, the blast of magic didn’t knock him off his feet.

When Stiles looked up at Casey, it was beautiful. The same lines of repair ran through their spirit but another thing appeared too. Casey’s and Willow’s spirits were entangled like Stiles’ and Derek’s were. Stiles couldn’t stop smiling when the two felt each other’s presence. They were crying and holding each other. They whispered how they loved each other and never wanted to be apart again.

Stiles looked at them in awe. He wanted that. He glanced at Derek, seeing how tense and nervous he was. He looked back to how Casey's and Willow's spirits came together. Could he have that? Could he and Derek have really have that, too?

Stiles turned to look at Derek. He still had that same scowl set on his face but his eyes gave him away. Derek wanted that, too, just like Stiles. He wanted a love so strong it was an anchor in the real world. Even when they couldn’t keep going, they stayed together.

Stiles thought for a second he saw Derek’s spirit reaching for his even though he wasn’t touching him. He closed his eyes and felt the world tilt. It stopped, his body not hitting the floor like he thought. When he opened his eyes, he was looking right into Derek’s eyes. The world came into focus and he saw how tired and worried Derek truly looked. He held onto Stiles to keep him up right. He held Stiles close just to be sure he was safe.

A muttered conversation was had. At least, it sounded muttered. Stiles closed his eyes again. He was exhausted. His body felt like it weighed a ton. He was hungry too, but he needed sleep first. Stiles let himself give in, becoming dead weight in Derek’s arms.

He freaked out, lifting Stiles more so he wouldn’t fall. Derek leaned against the wall, carefully sitting down with Stiles held in his arms. He looked him over, seeing how pale and cold Stiles was. Derek whined deep in his throat, taking off his leather jacket to wrap around Stiles.

“Please,” Derek begged, “he gave all he had to help you. He needs sleep.”

One of the Betas shook their head. “That’s not for us to decide.”

“Then ask your alpha,” Derek growled, not happy with the silly pups they’d been left with.

One of the Betas left and Derek turned his attention back to Stiles. He pushed the hair off his forehead, trying to tell how badly Stiles had overdone it. He was still so cold. Derek’s eyes went wide, listening closely. He could have screamed in joy when he heard the steady beat of Stiles’ heart. He heaved a sigh, leaning his head on Stiles’ shoulder. Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles, holding him close to keep him warm.

Stiles woke up in a small bed. He was sweating from the warmth, the familiar weight of Derek’s wolf form pressed against his chest. He looked around, not recognizing where he was. He moved to rest a hand to Derek’s back, feeling safer knowing the wolf was nearby. Stiles blinked, looking at his arm in Derek’s leather jacket. He was wearing Derek’s jacket.

Derek seemed to feel Stiles wake up and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. Before Stiles could even ask, Derek growled softly at him. Stiles smiled, understanding what Derek was saying.

As soon as they were able to eat and get back on the road, Stiles made it their mission to help as many packs as fast as possible. Giving the power back was easy. It was draining and took a heavy toll on Stiles. He refused to stop until he was done.

Stiles charged his phone in the jeep as they drove to the next pack, cringing when it turned on. Derek glanced at him and Stiles held up the phone. “Scott. He called a few times.” By a few times he meant twelve. Derek nodded and Stiles groaned, calling Scott back.

As soon as he picked up, Scott yelled “where are you? Where’s Derek?”

Stiles cringed. “Hello, Scott. I’m doing great, really. Thanks for asking,” he said.

“Stiles,” Scott said frantically.

“We’re fine,” Stiles assured him, rubbing his face. “We left last night and I,” he sighed, “took Evander’s powers.”

“You did what,” Malia yelled, obviously having heard Stiles comment. “Do you want to go insane? You were already teetering on that line before!”

“Wait,” it was Kira’s voice this time, “does that make Stiles a Darach?”

“No! Not unless he did it for his own gain. He did it to someone,” Mason told her.

“Where are you now,” Scott asked Stiles.

“So, that’s the other half of it,” Stiles told Scott. “You know how werewolves had their powers stolen? Well, we’re returning them.”

Scott’s side of the line was full of loud arguing and overlapping yelling. Scott must have used the look because the pack quieted. “Where are you right now? I’m coming with you.”

Stiles hissed. “Oooh… I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Stiles!”

“I’ll text you updates,” Stiles said, talking over Scott. “Okay, I’m going to lose service so I’ll talk to you lat—” Stiles hung up in the middle of his sentence, earring a look of confused bewilderment from Derek. “What? He was never going to shut up!”

After they helped one pack, they’d get food or snacks for the road and move to the next pack unless Derek needed sleep. Stiles insisted on sleeping in the jeep while Derek drove to save time despite his protests. He only agreed to stop when he knew Derek was too tired to drive more.

They'd stop at a motel along the highway to rest. At first, Stiles tried to do more work on his phone while Derek rested but they quickly found that didn't work. Derek couldn't sleep if Stiles was up and pacing. He would make excuses about Stiles being loud or his phone being bright, anything to avoid the truth. When Stiles would finally agree to lay down, Derek would wander off to the bathroom and return in his wolf form. Stiles teased him about it the first few times, offering to make a pillow wall if that's what Derek really wanted. Derek would lie and tell him it was more comfortable like this. If Stiles knew it was a lie, he didn't push it. Even when Stiles laid in the bed with him, Derek found himself laying away until he knew Stiles had fallen asleep. He'd listen to Stiles' steady heart rate and his sleep mumbling. Eventually, the soft sound of Stiless peaceful sleep would lull Derek off himself.

Sometimes, Stiles would fine himself just looking at Derek as he drove. Stiles would watch how their spirits intertwinded and moved together. Sometimes they would end up stranded when the jeep broke down. Stiles made comments about how it was Derek’s fault because every time he got mad or they would argue, he’d push Roscoe too far. Two months later, they were ready to head to the last pack and Derek had basically rebuilt the Roscoe’s engine.

“Where’s the last pack,” Derek huffed. They had just gotten back into the jeep after changing clothes at a gas station.

“O-K,” Stiles said, looking at a map on his phone.

“That wasn’t something you can answer with an ‘okay’,” Derek grumbled.

“Not okay, OK as in Oklahoma,” Stiles told him.

Derek took a deep breath and glared at Stiles. “Sometimes I want to rip your throat out.”

“With your teeth,” Stiles mocked, knowing damned well he was safe. “I hope you feel like a dick when we get there,” he mumbled.

Derek rolled his eyes and started on the road. He listened carefully when Stiles turned to the GPS. Derek looked over, wanting to talk to Stiles, to find him retreating back in his mind to talk to the last of the wolf spirits. Derek sighed. This was going to be a long drive.

Derek saw Stiles’ face flick back to life as they crossed into New Mexico. He wanted to say something or crack a joke but that was more Stiles’ department, so he opted for silence.

Stiles looked out the window and then to Derek. “How long was I out,” he asked, not recognizing anything.

Derek hummed, “four hours, give or take.” He shrugged, glancing at Stiles. “Welcome to New Mexico.”

“Do you want to switch,” Stiles asked and Derek huffed a laugh.

He shook his head. “You are not driving when you can’t stay in the moment,” Derek said.

Stiles groaned but didn’t argue more. Actually, it was worse. Stiles started back up his never ending game of finding plates from all fifty states and rattling off fun facts about every state they see.

They were an hour away when Stiles' demeanor made the distinct change. He went from Stiles to a child’s excitement, then to an adult’s calm. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the former was the child Evander took the power from.

Stiles would return to control to at least answer a question. Derek had been very clear before with how uncomfortable he was asking the wolf spirits questions.

This pack would be the worst according to Stiles. It was a child and the alpha who had lost their powers. The pack that was left behind was a glorified orphanage. It was a place for children to go when their parents died and the pack couldn’t care for them.

Derek slowed, turning onto a long dirt driveway. The sides of the drive were fenced in, keeping the kids clear of the cars. As they drove it, they saw groups of kids running and playing outside. They were on the swings and playing tag. There were kids of all ages, some of the older ones stopped to watch them drive up.

Derek put the car in park and the front door opened. A nervous looking teen walked out with a crying baby on his hip. He walked to the gate as Derek and Stiles got out of the car.

“Who are you,” the teen asked, eyeing the two men.

This time, Derek deferred to Stiles, letting him take the lead. “This is Derek and I’m Stiles. We’re here to help your alpha,” Stiles told him. “She’s not well and neither is Andy, right?”

The teen’s apprehension was obvious. Stiles wanted to do something to gain his trust. It was like a flash of light when the small boy’s wolf spoke.

“They’re your family, your brother and mother…” Stiles mumbled. “Your name’s Garrett, right?”

The teen seemed to relax slightly but straighten up. He had been acting as Alpha. He knew he had to be the protector. “How do you know about that?”

“I helped Evander,” Stiles said and the teen froze. “I’ve been able to give all of the affected packs their powers back. I’m going to help yours, too.”

The teen, Garrett, looked behind himself and then opened the gate. “Okay,” he mumbled.

He led them into the house and took them up the stairs. He opened the door and let them in. “Momma doesn’t like when I let people in without permission. We do most of the dealing on the porch.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispered.

Derek knew what he was suggesting. He wanted Derek to go downstairs so it wouldn’t be as invasive on the pack missing their alpha. Derek shook his head, glancing at the lost alpha.

“I’ll be outside the door,” Derek relented, looking at Garrett and the baby. He didn’t like leaving Stiles with people they didn’t know but stepped out like he’d said.

Garrett shushed the baby, rocking to try to calm them. He looked frazzled, like he was on his last leg. “How are you going to help them,” he asked, letting the baby cry.

Stiles frowned, looking at the kid sympathetically but answered the question. “I’m an Emissary for a pack in northern California. It’s hard to explain but– in simplest form– the wolf half of them was taken and I can return it. That half of them have been using me to keep going. In a way, it’s like your mom and brother have been living in my head.”

“How?”

“It won’t look like much to you,” Stiles explained, sitting down next to the alpha. “I’ll take her hand like this,” he held her hand, “and then the magic moves from me to her. She’ll want you close when it happens.” Gerrett moved closer and Stiles turned to talk to her. “Hi Leanndra. I’m going to help you and your son. It’ll be better soon.”

Stiles closed his eyes, feeling the pull of the magic. He let it go, helping the two halves of the spirit return to each other. When he opened his eyes, he saw the woman light up in a beautiful pattern of gold and sky blue. Each spirit had their own color that fit them.

Leanndra came back with a huff. She opened her eyes and Stiles let go of her hand. Garrett attacked her, hugging his mom and crying. She seemed surprised for a moment but hugged her son back.

Stiles smiled at her and stood up. He looked around the room, seeing the little boy laying on the bed. He could see the care Garrett had taken to be sure they were okay. Stiles sat beside the child. His name was Andy.

“Hey buddy. I'm going to make it better, okay,” Stiles whispered, placing his hand on Andy’s arm. He looked at Leanndra and then at Andy.

He let go, pushing the magic into Andy. He watched as the two halves met, swirling around as they rejoined. He closed his eyes as the spirit burned brighter, forming the golden lines.

Andy slowly sat up and Stiles helped him up. “Your mom is right there,” he whispered, supporting the boy as he crawled closer to his mom at the end of the bed.

Leanndra scooped him up in her arms, holding the boys closer. She softly cooed at the still crying baby, his sobs turning to whimpers. She sighed, “oh Eli,” rubbing the side of the baby’s face.

Stiles looked at the door and then to the baby. “Do you want me to hold him,” he asked, keeping his distance.

Leandra and Andy both looked at Stiles. It was like they knew him. They did know him. They shared a head for the months it took to bring them back to their bodies. They knew him on an instinctual level, a way stronger than if they’d met in the traditional sense.

She looked at Stiles and then the baby. “Do you want to? He’s fussy. I can never get him completely settled,” Leanndra told him and Stiles nodded.

Garrett let Stiles take the baby. Stiles blinked hard, feeling magic pushing him to look at Eli’s spirit. It was a feeling he got anytime he touched someone now. Stiles held his breath, looking down at the small thing. He wasn’t used to babies but he knew the family would want to have their moment. Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat and sighed.

“Hi Eli,” he whispered, rocking him like Garrett had.

Eli went from hiccuped whines to silence as he looked up at Stiles. He hummed a small noise of confusion and reached up for Stiles’ face. He grabbed at his shirt and giggled.

Stiles smiled down at the baby. “You aren’t fussy,” he whispered to Eli as if he understood. Stiles smiled, blinking back the rising pull of exhaustion. He’d done this enough to know and fight the feeling. Stiles sighed heavily and Eli went quiet. He could feel his mind begging him to look at the baby’s spirit but he knew it would make his tired state worse. “Uh, can– can Derek come in? I need…”

Leanndra looked at Stiles, then the door, and back to Stiles. “Of course,” she said, looking at Stiles as he grew weaker.

Derek was in the room and at Stiles’ side before anyone could say more. He wrapped an arm around him, keeping him up right. “Do you need to sit or a snack? Are you cold,” he asked, his mind running through the list of things.

Stiles shook his head. “I’m okay,” he mumbled. “Just not a hundred percent…” and Stiles felt better with Derek close. It didn’t need to be said and it never had been, they just knew.

In all his worry about Stiles, Derek never noticed the silent baby in his arms. Eli was looking up at Derek with big green eyes. He reached up for Derek, grabbing at his shirt. When Derek looked down at him, Eli squealed happily, a smile on his face.

Derek seemed confused, looking between Eli and Stiles. “You can barely hold yourself up, why do you have a baby,” he asked. “Give him here. You need to sit.”

“Derek, I’m fine,” Stiles told him, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to—” Stiles let himself slip into the comfort of his magic, looking at Derek’s spirit like he would in the jeep, and rapidly lost what little strength he had left.

Derek didn’t miss a beat, holding Eli to his chest with one arm and holding Stiles up right with the other. He slowly lowered them to the ground. “You’re an idiot,” He grumbled, holding Stiles to his side.

Stiles looked around them with wonder in his eyes.When he and Derek were close, their spirits’ became entangled in a mess of shades of red. It was impossible to tell where one ended and the other started. But now Eli was there. His Spirit burned a deep fiery orange-red. His spirit slotted right in with Derek’s and Stiles’ like he was meant to be there, wrapping around them and tying them together.

Stiles looked at Leanndra, Garrett, and Andy. their spirits were slotted together just the same. They all held onto each other, lines of gold running across them. They stayed together, moving as one. It was only changed as Leanndra moved to help Stiles. Even then, her spirit left a trail back to her family.

Derek let out an unintentional growl when Leanndra came too close to them. He glared at her, holding Stiles closer. She moved back. She didn’t challenge the disregard of her authority. They might be on her territory but Stiles was Derek’s mate. Leanndra knew they were mates, she felt it the entire time her wolf was stuck in Stiles’ head. She knew that strong protective instinct respected no authority. She saw the way Derek held Stiles when he was tired and overworked from the inside. Derek would protect Stiles no matter what.

“Can I help,” Leanndra asked, watching the way Derek held Eli as close as Stiles– like he was protecting his family. “Food? Water? Sleep?” She looked behind her at the boys. She wouldn’t have them back without Stiles’ help. That was why she needed to help.

Eli whimpered in Derek’s arm, the tense feelings hanging in the room upsetting the baby. Stiles closed his eyes and forced the magic back. He placed a hand on Eli’s back next to Derek’s. The movement pulled Derek’s attention to Stiles again. He pulled him closer, looking over him for any signs of distress.

“I’m fine,” Stiles told him, smiling at the tense expression covering his face. “Hey Sourwolf, stop making that face.”

“Stiles,” Derek huffed, dropping his head on Stiles’ shoulder. “I hate you.”

Stiles leaned against his head and laughed. “No you don’t.”

It was palpable when the room relaxed. It was like a breath of relief rolled through the room. Even Eli was quiet. Derek moved Eli so he could see both Derek and Stiles. He seemed to relax and Stiles chuckled. Derek looked down at the baby and smiled. He started to play with the baby, tickling him and making him giggle. When he grabbed Derek’s finger, the man melted and Stiles really understood what he’d seen.

"Eli has not stopped or slowed down since I met him,” Leanndra said, looking at the three with a smile. They fit. “I'm not sure he's ever been quiet."

Derek’s smile grew and he looked up at her "Sounds familiar,” he turned to Stiles, “doesn't it, Stiles?"

Leanndra perked up at the comment, looking between them. “Do you have kids?”

Stiles turned to look at her with wide eyes. “What? Oh, no! Definitely not,” he sputtered quickly.

“You just described Stiles to a T,” Derek explained.

Leanndra nodded and Garrett jumped in, seeing what his mother did. “Have you two thought about adopting,” Garrett asked genuinely.

Stiles chuckled, “no. We’re not even dating.”

Leanndra looked at Stiles with wide eyes. "Nonsense,” she declared. “You must have been together a long time. My wolf could feel it. Your bond is so strong." She shook her head, not really believing Stiles.

“We’ve known each other for years. Since I was a sophomore in high school,” Stiles said.

Derek looked at Stiles in surprise. “We met before that,” he said, looking almost hurt that Stiles didn’t remember.

Stiles shook his head. “When?”

Derek licked his lips. “After the fire,” he whispered.

Stiles looked at him and shook his head. “I don’t—”

“We can talk about it later,” Derek said quickly and Stiles watched the tough facade cover Derek’s face.

“Let us feed you before you leave. It’s the least we can do,” Garrett said, looking to his mother for approval.

Leanndra stood up and wrapped an arm around her son. “He’s right. Why don’t you sleep too? You must be tired.”

They took them up on the offer– or Stiles did since Derek wasn’t talking. Stiles ate like he hadn’t eaten in years. He was starving. Derek tried to give his food to Stiles too and got a death stare telling him to eat.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep now,” Derek said at last, having only eaten half his plate.

Garrett took Derek to the room he’d set up for them. One bed, great. Derek laid down in the bed and tried to sleep.

Stiles sat at the table, watching the stairs that Derek had gone up. Was it really that important that he didn’t remember something that happened thirteen years ago? Thirteen years ago, Stiles’ mom was dying. She was delusional and thought Stiles was trying to kill her. Claudia’s disease was the only thing Stiles remembered from thirteen years ago– it was all he remembered until middle school and then he remembered his dad's drinking.

“He really loves you,” Leanndra whispered and Stiles huffed a laugh.

“He tolerates me,” Stiles muttered, picking at his food.

Leanndra frowned. “What makes you think that?”

Stiles looks at her and rolls his eyes. “You don’t know what I’ve done…” Memories of the past six years ran through his mind. Derek being framed for murder. The Nogitsune. Leaving Derek with the Darach. Kate attacking and kidnapping Derek multiple times. “I��ve been a shit friend, which makes me an even shittier partner. I don’t expect him to forgive me, let alone love me.”

“He did and he does,” Leanndra said softly.

Stiles chewed his lip and pushed his plate forward. “I think I’m going to head to bed too.”

Gerrett was coming back when Stiles was heading up so he took him to the room. Stiles waved goodnight to Eli and opened the door. Derek was lying on top of the blankets facing the wall. He sighed and walked over.

“Can we talk about it now,” Stiles asked, nervously looking at Derek. Stiles licked his lips and sighed. He’d start. “My mom was dying.” he shook his head. “I don’t remember much of anything other than that. The fire… it was right in the middle of all that. I just don’t…”

Stiles was fighting back tears when he felt the bed move. Stiles looked back and saw Derek looking at him. He sighed, laying down with Derek. He searched Derek’s face for any emotion to go off of.

“You hate me,” Stiles asked.

“No.”

“You should.”

“I can’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Will you tell me about it,” Stiles asked in a whisper.

“About what?”

“About the first time we met.”

Derek took a breath and licked his lips nervously. “After the fire, your dad brought me back to the station. They were waiting to figure out who I would go to while Laura was in the hospital. You were there, too.”

“Was I just too cute? Did I steal your heart,” Stiles teased.

“Stiles, you were eleven and I was fifteen.” Derek paused, pushing the hair off of Stiles’ forehead. “You were asleep on the couch when I first got there. Your dad let me sit in the dark office and he wrapped a blanket around me. He promised it would be okay and then he went to deal with other stuff.”

“What'd I say,” Stiles asked and Derek smirked.

“You were asleep.”

“Not for long, I bet,” Stiles wagered.

“Not for long,” Derek agreed. “You woke up and saw me sitting there. You called me weird for just sitting in the dark.”

“I didn't!”

“You did, “ Derek said seriously. “Then you asked if I wanted to color or read.”

“Whish one did you pick,” Stiles asked, having a pretty good guess.

“I let you pick. I actually wasn't much of a reader then,” Derek told him. “You gave me your copy of The Lightning Thief to read and you started drawing something in a notebook.”

“You read Percy Jackson?”

“Because of you,” Derek said with a nod. “It was the first series that I was really able to escape into.”

Stiles smiled, “So you love reading because—”

“Because of a nerdy little kid I met at the police station let me borrow his book.”

“I made you a nerd too,” Stiles told him. He took a hard breath and looked at Derek. “What do you want to do now?”

Derek thought about it. He looked at Stiles and a small smile pulled at his lips. “I want to rebuild Hale house. What do you want to do?”

Stiles bit his lip. “I need to learn to control my magic,” he said and Derek nodded. “I’m a danger to all of you and myself. I’ll tell Scott and… take off.” Derek scrunched his eyebrows at the statement. “I’ll travel to different packs and learn from the more experienced Emissaries.”

Derek hummed and thought. “We can do that.”

“What?”

“We can do that. We’ll take the same path we did getting here. We can stop and spend time with each of the packs on the way. You can learn from them that way.”

“What about Hale house,” Stiles asked. “You can’t not do what you want because of me…”

Derek sighed. “I’ll call the contractors and Peter or Malia or someone in the pack can handle the day to day. I’ll stay with you, making sure you don’t hit your head on a rock and die when you pass out.” Stiles chuckled and Derek smirked. “I know you. I can tell when you need to eat and when to check for when you over work yourself.”

“I could hurt you,” Stiles said, his smile falling.

“You haven’t and I don’t think you will,” Derek whispered.

Stiles nodded. “Okay. We’re going to travel together,” he smiled, leaning into Derek.

“What else is new,” Derek asked.

The next morning, Stiles found himself moving closer to the warm body behind him. He hummed, feeling Derek’s stubble rubbing against his head. The arm over his waist pulled him closer. They were slow to wake, finding warmth and comfort in each other. It was the sound of children that woke them at last. Stiles rolled over to hide against Derek.

“Stiles,” Derek grumbled, his voice gruff from sleep. “Stiles, we have to get up. We need to get on the road.”

Stiles huffed, slowly opening his eyes. He looked up at Derek quizzically.

“What,” Derek asked, not prepared for snarky comments so soon after waking up.

“This is the first time you didn’t go full wolf when you slept in a bed with me,” Stiles stated.

“What about when I had stitches?”

“So it's the first time you've done so without necessity,” Stiles corrected, “but it sounds nicer the first way.

He was right, though, and there would be many more nights after.

It took six months getting back to Beacon Hills. They stopped with each pack as Stiles learned from their Emissaries. At some point, they started dating but there really wasn’t a specific moment it happened. It was more of a gradual slide until they realized what they were doing.

Their trip back started with the pack of orphaned children. Derek found it hard to leave. They were all so sweet and small and lost. He felt just like them. He knew they couldn’t teach Stiles without an Emissary but Derek learned. He learned how good they both were with kids.

From the second pack, Stiles learned about herbs and animal communication.

It was a Native American pack that saw Stiles as one of them for returning the power that was taken from them. They stayed with them the longest as Stiles learned to identify plants and their uses.

Stiles and Derek were both in awe when they first arrived. The entire pack– bar a few young children– were able to fully shift into wolves. Their Emissary was able to easily understand the wolves and recognized every one thought. She told Stiles that each Emissary has a specific talent they excelled at and was amazed to see Stiles utilize many.

They spent many evenings laughing and talking as they ate. The pack would then go for a group run. They told Derek he could come with them when he felt comfortable. Derek stayed close to Stiles for the first few nights, joining the run when he knew Stiles was comfortable and safe.

When working one night Stiles' familiarity with the ability was brought up.

“You understand the wolves,” the pack Emissary asked him and Stiles smiled, laughing nervously.

“I can understand Sourwolf,” Stiles said with a shrug. “I don’t get your pack on the animal esp.” he laughed at his own joke.

The Emissary, Kateri laughed too but for other reasons. “That’s not the same,” she chuckled. “He’s your mate. That has its own thing going.”

“Oh shit,” Stiles said, laughing hysterically. “How does that work? Could you imagine,” Stiles huffed, his voice reaching Derek as he looked for him and drew him closer. Derek found himself relaxing at the sound of Stiles' voice. “Can you– can you imagine someone like me being with Derek,” Stiles asked as if it were hilarious. “Shit… Mates, soulmates. It’s magic and fun and stupid! What if you hate your mate?”

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on Derek. Stiles’ thought it was stupid. Someone like Stiles with Derek? What did that mean? He made himself walk away. Derek had really thought they were on the same wavelength about being mates when they decided to do all of this but he must have been wrong. Stiles didn’t want to be with him. He needed to run.

“What! Do you hate your mate,” the Emissary asked, completely bewildered.

“No! No, of course not,” Stiles said quickly, his face turning bright red. He thought about Derek, how he'd been there for Stiles every step of the way as he'd learned about his magic and how he planned to be with him as he kept learning and, “I actually think I might be in love with him,” he admitted. It was the first time he'd admitted it to anyone including himself.

“Oh, Stiles,” Kateri cooed. “It can be very scary to know you were meant to be with someone. It can feel like everything is out of your control and you don't have a choice, but I can promise that you will see why you're meant to be together.” Her tone was gentle as she explained to him, like she was soothing a child after a nightmare. “I've been around this pack since I was very very little and I have yet to see a set of mates who shouldn't have been. You and Derek, you're good friends?”

“I think so,” Stiles said nervously, as if it could be a trick question.

“Then you have nothing to fear,” Kateri said, placing her hand to Stiles’. “If it's too much to think of him being your mate as a romantic connection, then you can take comfort in knowing that all of the people I knew who had mates were the best of friends with them. Take a breath dear. You're already there.”

The night before they left, a huge party was held. They danced and sang and ate and ran and laughed and talked. Derek watched Stiles dance. He watched clumsy, awkward Stiles dance with his new friends. Derek smiled. Seeing Stiles so happy, looking free and unburdened, was a welcomed change from when they'd left Beacon Hills.

Stiles saw Derek sitting off to the side. “Come on, Sourwolf. A little fun won't kill you,” he teased, waving Derek over.

Derek just shook his head, staying firmly in place. Or, he did until Stiles walked over and took his hand. Then, Derek was following like a puppy as Stiles pulled him up to dance.

From the second pack, Derek learned even though he didn’t like it otherwise, he loved dancing with Stiles.

From the third pack, Stiles learned about water magic.

It was a blended pack. Two alphas, a born wolf and a turned wolf, had fallen in love and settled their mixed pack by an ocean bluff. Their Emissary was a nervous man who found the crashing waves and sea breeze a form of comfort. He showed Stiles how to move water like an extension of his own body. He showed him how to find a relaxed center in a noisy environment and how to soothe the bubbling of the magic inside.

While Stiles learned, the pack hounded Derek to tell them about his relationship with Stiles. They wanted to know how they met and when and where. How did they figure out they were mates and what would they do now? The little kids would jump on Derek and sit in his lap. He had a constant following begging for details.

“When did you meet Emissary Stiles,” a little girl asked, her eyes, as blue as the ocean, looked up at Derek expectantly.

“Well… his friend got turned into a werewolf. I was trying to help his friend,” Derek told them, “but Stiles is really stubborn and thought he could halp better than me.”

“But Emissary Stiles isn’t a werewolf,” one of the little boys declared. “How would he know about us?”

“That’s what I thought. He knew nothing about it,” Derek said with a tone of mock exasperation.

“Oh please, Sourwolf,” Stiles scoffed, walking over to Derek and his herd of followers. Stiles picked up one of the small kids, sitting her on his lap. “See, Derek is forgetting that figuring things out and learning secrets are what I do best.” The kids ‘oh’d and ‘ah'd about Stiles' addition, turning the tides of the story in his favor.

Stiles would smile and laugh when he saw Derek surrounded. The kids would mob him too and Stiles took the pups into his arms without a second thought. He’d jump in and change the story to make himself the hero or to add a dramatic flair he claimed Derek lacked. They were never alone and Derek found that that idea was growing on him.

From the third pack, Derek learned he enjoyed the noise and togetherness of Stiles and kids.

From the forth pack, Stiles learned about electric magic.

The grandfatherly Emissary taught Stiles to harness the power of a storm. He taught him useful magic and a few tricks for entertainment. The pack was made up of a lot of other people, including a Kitsune. The Emissary and Kitsune taught Stiles control over wild magic. Lightning was difficult to work with because of the discipline it required.

Derek saw Stiles practicing and stopped to watch him. He was focusing on holding a ball of electricity in the air in front of himself. Derek closed his eyes, trying to feel what Stiles felt, smelling for any sign of distress but he was calm. His emotions were level. His magic hummed at a balanced, steady frequency. As Stiles learned to control the magic, it didn’t feel nearly as overwhelming.

The Kitsune walked up beside Derek as he watched Stiles. The Kitsune explained how impressed they were with Stiles. He learned quickly and– though often scattered– how focused he became when learning.

From the forth pack, Derek learned Stiles could always surprise him.

From the fifth pack, Stiles learned about intentional magic.

The fifth pack they visited was… odd. They weren't like Derek and Stiles were used to, at least. None of the werewolves seemed interested in learning about the visiting pair. They didn't seem all that interested in members of their own pack, really. The best way to explain it was that they seemed more like neighbors than packmates. Everyone had their own lives that didn't necessarily require the others.

The Emissary, Ameila, was excited to see Stiles, though. She pulled him into her workshop as soon as they set their bags down in the cabin that had been made for them. Derek was not a fan of her. The way she grabbed Stiles' arm and just started to pull him away didn't sit well with him. If nothing else, she was immature.

Of course, she did teach Stiles some really interesting spells of intention. Many of them, you could hardly tell she was doing a spell. Most of them were silent. You had to focus, setting what you wanted in your head and sending that intention to the object of your desire.

It took two days for Stiles to get a spoon to stir a cup of water from thoughts alone, even when he made the accompanying physical guestures. He could help but compare himself to Ameila, who could make things float off the shelf and into her hands without words or movement.

When working one night while maybe, possibly, drinking a bit too much, Stiles and Ameila started talking about the other abilities he had gained from his wealth of power.

“You can understand bend water like the fucking Avatar,” Ameila said in amazement, the alcohol making everything more exciting than normal. “And the wolves! You said you could understand them in their full shift?”

“Not really,” Stiles laughed, his face rosey from the alcohol. “I can understand Derek. I can't even understand the other werew— well, Malia's a werecoyote but she full shifts too and I can't understand her. When I was learning from Kateri, she blew my skill out of the water. I guess I can understand Der because he's my mate, though.”

Ameila gasped, “oh my god, I didn't know! Uhg, that explains so much. That must be so freaky! I mean, he's a wolf and your mates? Is it, like, so intense when he kisses you? I heard it's all different with your mate.”

“Oh shit,” Stiles said, laughing hysterically. “Could you imagine,” Stiles huffed, his voice reaching outside the workshop.

Derek heard Stiles, he had been looking for him and he walked closer, listening to the conversation even if he shouldn't have. The sound of Stiles' voice was relaxing for him, hearing his rambling was soothing and he had admittedly been a little worried about him.

“Can you– can you imagine someone like me being with Derek like that,” Stiles asked, trying to laugh even as he wished it were true. “Shit… Mates, soulmates. It’s magic and fun and stupid! What if you hate your mate?”

“What! Do you hate your mate,” Amelia asked, completely bewildered in her drunken state.

Stiles giggled, looking up at the ceiling from his place on the floor. He shook his head, “no. No, I… I love him, actually. Not that he wants me, just the stupid mate magic or whatever…”

“Ooooohh,” she cooed, devolving into a laugh, “you love him.”

Stiles smiled up at the ceiling, knowing that at the end of the day Derek would be there when he went to bed and when he woke up. Hell, if he yelled, Derek would probably be there in seconds. “Ya,” he said wistfully, “I definitely love him…” Stiles sighed, finishing his drink. “That’s why I think he deserves better than me.”

Stiles heard Ameila tisk at him and she muttered in French. While Stiles was far from fluent, he was pretty sure she'd called him an idiot. “That man is so in love with you, it makes him look stupid! He’s ignored traditions so many times,” she said, shaking her head.

“That’s just Derek. He's not much for pleasantries,” Stiles laughed.

“No, it's about you,” she hummed. “I thought he might just be… himself—”

“Rude. You thought he was a rude asshat who didn't care about making a good impression,” Stiles said and sat up. Ameila hummed, considering the words. “you can say it. I thought he was when I saw him. I also thought he was a psychopathic murder.” Stiles looked at his empty bottle and leaned over to throw it away. “turns out that was his uncle.”

“Sorry,” Ameila said, pushing for details without saying so.

“Long story,” Stiles huffed, not adding more. “Point is, he doesn't exactly make a good first impression.”

Ameila sat back in her chair, trying to get past the crazy not-story with the alcohol clouding her brain. “I— No… He followed every convention, every tedious word and action perfectly, until you were involved. Like, uh, normally he wouldn’t go into the med rooms without our Alpha present but he’s rarely more than a few steps away from you. Hell, I'm shocked he's not here now,” she laughed, sipping her drink. “Oh! And the look he gave poor Marty for getting too close to you? He's still scared of him!”

“He has that effect,” Stiles snickered. “I wish I could say he’s all bark and no bite to put you at ease, but it'd be a lie.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Ameila said, rolling her eyes and opening another drink for Stiles.

He shook his head at the drink. “I'm good,” he said and Ameila shrugged, setting it next to him.

“You have to tell me all about this prospective lover boy,” Amelia teased, opening another drink for herself.

Derek found himself wandering back to the Emissary’s workshop around midnight. Stiles had yet to come back to their room and, despite his confusion on where they stood, Derek couldn't sleep without him.

When Derek noticed that the shop's lights were off, he froze. His heart rate spiked. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit, where's Stiles? He was just here, he could still smell him. He could swear he was still here.

A squeaky screen door opened on a nearby house and someone stuck their head out. “Hey,” they called and Derek looked over at them. “You're Stiles' mate, ya? Nevermind, that was a stupid question. I can smell him on you from here. Come get him before he throws up on my couch.”

Derek hurried over to the house and followed the wolf into the house. Sure enough, there was Stiles laying on the couch, very drunk.

Derek sighed, patting Stiles's cheek to get him to wake up but he only hummed and leaned into Derek’s hand. “Idiot,” he mumbled to himself.

“Listen, I agreed to be responsible for that one,” the wolf who'd let Derek in said, pointing to Ameila, “but that one is all yours. Word of advice though, might keep an eye on him and the liquor. He can drink like an alcoholic.”

That one? Keep an eye on him? Did they think Stiles was a child? She was talking about him like he wasn't even a person and the way they talked about Ameila? What the hell did they mean, responsible for her?

“I don't need your advice,” Derek growled, carefully picking Stiles up and glaring heavily at the other wolf.

The wolf scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I was just making sure you know. Didn't mean nothing by it.”

Derek took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I'll take him back so he's not your problem anymore. And, by the way, His name is Stiles,” Derek grumbled and the other wolf shrugged, holding the doors open for Derek to carry Stiles out.

Derek was fuming as he walked Stiles back to their cabin. Who talks about another person like that in a serious tone? As a joke, maybe. Saying Stiles drank like an alcoholic? That was over the fucking line. You don't just say that shit! You just—

“Derek,” Stiles mumbled, opening his eyes tiredly, a slight slur to his words.

“It's me,” Derek answered, glancing at Stiles as he walked.

“You're warm,” Stiles hummed, leaning into Derek more.

How could someone see this as a burden? He knew what Stiles was like when he was drunk. He'd ramble about his favorite shows or his current hyperfixation. He talked without a filter and was about as graceful as a newborn baby deer, sure, but he wasn't trouble. If he felt sick, he'd lay down and eventually fall asleep just like he had. And the one time Stiles had thrown up from drinking, he felt like shit about it and tried to clean it up himself. How was he a problem?

And calling him an alcoholic? Stiles was fucking terrified of becoming an alcoholic. Derek had seen Stiles drunk a total of 5 times in the years he's known Stiles. That fucking asshole had known Stiles for, what, a week? Maybe two? Where did they get off saying Stiles was an alcoholic?

“Sorry you had to come get me,” Stiles mumbled, yawning. He wrinkled his nose. “Shit, is that me? I smell awful.”

“You smell like alcohol,” Derek mumbled, not disagreeing. Like alcohol and that fucking house.

“Fuck,” Stiles groaned, “I didn't… We were talking about magic and the wolves and mates and this whole mess and I didn't even realize..” Derek hummed in acknowledgement, listening to Stiles and, shit, he was being so nice about it. Stiles felt like shit. This was his fault. Derek must ave been so worried about him and, fuck, he must be pissed!

“I'm really sorry, Der. We were just venting about the crap half of the magic and then Ameila offered me a drink and we were talking about our packs and all the crap we've been through and then she asked about you… I don't know and being mates and it's all so much and, come on, you got stuck with me, out of all people! And everytime she got herself another, she got me one too andI said I was good but I guess I didn’t realize. I'm really sorry Der…”

Derek stopped, looking at Stiles seriously. “One more time. What happened,” he asked and Stiles's face went red.

“Do I have to?”

“You told her you were done and she kept giving you drinks,” Derek asked.

“Kind of? I guess,” Stiles rubbed his face, “I mean, ya. I didn't think they were that strong but maybe I was wrong.”

“Stiles, you said you were done?”

“Kind of? She asked if I wanted another and I said I was good.”

Derek gritted his teeth, He took a while to say anything else. Stiles was starting to think Derek was mad at him.

“You said you were done and she kept giving you more?”

“Ya, but I drank them. I should've stopped.”

“So should she,” Derek scoffed, bumping the door to their room open. “Why don't we head for the next pack tomorrow? you can sleep in the jeep if you still don't feel good.”

“I'm sorry,” Stiles mumbled.

Derek sighed, putting Stiles down to lean on the bed. He took a breath and looked at Stiles. He looked so upset, it made Derek's heart sche. He held Stiles’ face in his hands. “I'm not med at you,” he told him. “I'm not particularly happy with Emissay Ameila at the moment or that fucking asshole she lives with.”

“Sarah? She's a little rough around the edges but—”

“Stiles,” Derek said. “I don't really care who it was. You're upset, I'm slightly less pissed now, but, between the two of us, I think it's time we go. If you really want to stay… just know that it might feel like I'm glued to you.”

Stiles laughed, leaning into Derek's touch. “I don't think leaving early would be that bad,”

“Thank god,” Derk huffed. Fuck, he relly wanted to kiss Stiles. He was so close and that fucking smile. He looked so cute when he was tired… “You should probably take a shower,” Derek mumbled, stepping back from Stiles. He saw how Stiles’ shoulders sagged when Derk let go of him.

“Uh, ya. I should,” Stiles said, grabbing his clothes and headed for the bathroom.

From the fifth pack, Derek learned that they both might have been a little too trusting.

They both learned for each of the twenty-three packs they visited. Stiles learned about magic and Derek learned how much he didn’t know about Stiles. The more Derek learned about Stiles, the more he loved him.

As they drove across the state, Derek made a list of things he loved about Stiles. Stiles' smile could light up a room. His eyes were honey golden in the sun. He loved kids and kids loved him. He was a fast learner. He was polite and respectful. He asked so many interesting questions Derek would never have thought of. He was a horrible dancer but didn’t let it stop him from having fun. He would scream the lyrics of songs he really liked. He had a serious caffeine addiction that made him a sleepy mess in the morning. He focused on things he enjoyed like they were the only thing in the world. He noticed everything. He would yell in triumph when he gained a new skill. He would try any food once. He would say he would say he wouldn’t to do a task he hated the entire time he did it. He liked to complain but would freak out if you actually tried to accommodate his complaints. Stiles was amazing and irritating and stupid and a genius and Derek loved him. It wasn’t because they were mates and some cosmic force decided they needed each other. No, Derek had slowly fallen in love with Stiles.

From the twenty-third and final pack, Stiles learned about spirit vision– the ability to see the souls of others.

Saffi was the Emissary to teach Stiles about seeing the souls of others. It was almost fitting since she was the person who told Stiles that cloaking magic didn’t work on mates because she could see Stiles and Derek’s mate bond from a mile away.

A lot of time was spent watching the pack. Stiles was trying to learn to see souls without having physical contact with another person. He’d done it twice: one with Willow and Casey and once with Leanndra, Garrett and Andy.

Derek had been walking when he heard Stiles talking. “What do family bonds look like,” Stiles asked Saffi. Really, Derek should have kept moving but he found the lessons Stiles learned to be interesting.

Saffi smiled at him. “It’s very similar to a mate bond but the child’s, or children’s, soul is distinct from their parents. It still swirls and wraps around the others.”

“I saw one,” Stiles muttered, looking at Saffi. “Derek… When we were with this pack that takes in pups without family to care for them, he held this little boy.” Stiles smiled thinking about Eli. “I looked at Derek and his spirit and how it's attached to mine but I saw what you described. I got this feeling like he belonged with us…” Stiles shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“That’s amazing, Stiles,” Saffi told him with a huge smile. “Did you tell Derek?”

That was Derek’s cue to move along. He went on with his day, at least he tried to, but the conversation ran through his head on loop. He was supposed to have a family. A real one.

From the twenty-third pack, Derek learned that he was supposed to be a family with Stiles and Eli.

They drove into Beacon hills as the sun was going down. Derek drove to see the progress on the Hale house. He parked in front of the nearly completed house and smiled. It was perfect, just how he remembered.

Stiles woke up and glared against the jeep’s lights. He saw the Hale house and yawned. “Is it done?”

“Almost. They need to finish the plumbing,” Derek said, looking at Stiles and something clicked. He was head over heels in love with Stiles. "Marry me…"

Stiles looked at Derek, processing what he said. "What," was all he could manage.

"Marry me," Derek repeated and Stiles groaned, rubbing his face.

Stiles huffed a sigh and turned in his seat to look directly at Derek. "Derek, you're tired. You're going to wake up tomorrow and all of this will be a really embarrassing sleep deprived mistake," Stiles told him, more than sure he was right.

Derek shook his head. "I have never been more sure of something in my life," he mumbled.

Stiles wanted to scream. This wasn’t happening. Derek was not asking his to marry him in the jeep they had spent eight months driving around in. When he was finally about to open his mouth without screaming incoherently, Stiles told him "ask me in the morning when you haven't been driving for five hours straight."

Derek agreed and Stiles Melted into his seat. He could not do this. He was too tired. He wasn't able to sleep where he was comfortable. He wanted to collapse into the pile of werewolves and werecoyote and banshee and kitsune and humans. Stiles was bone tired.

They drove to the loft and stumbled in with bags of clothes and keepsakes they had acquired along the way. It was late. Stiles trudged up the stairs and into the room that had been turned into the designated cuddle pile room.

When he found the pack up and dressed, ready for a run, Stiles went off. “Oh Hell no! You aren’t doing any such thing,” Stiles yelled at the people blankly staring at him. “Every goddamned one of you better be in pjs and ready for a damn cuddle pile in an hour or I will show you what I’ve learned.”

Stiles glared at them, waiting for the surprise to wear off. When it did, Stiles was attacked by an onslaught of hugs and whining and mumbles that told his he better never leave them again.

Stiles got what he wanted. The entire pack was curled up in a pile, fast asleep. They made faces when Derek laid behind Stiles and wrapped an arm around his waist. There were probably more stares when Stiles rolled over and hid his face against Derek but he didn’t care.

Stiles woke up the next morning more well rested than he’d been since he left Beacon Hills. He smiled when he found a warm pot of coffee left by Lydia. He poured himself a cup and Sat down at the breakfast bar. Derek wasn’t far behind Stiles, but stopped to look for something before he walked down stairs to see Stiles.

Stiles looked at the stair when he heard Derek coming and grinned. "was I right or was I right," he asked, waiting for Derek to act all embarrassed about last night.

Instead, Derek stood behind him, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist. He kissed Stiles’ neck and held out a ring. "Marry me," he asked again.

~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~

The jeep was parked at the edge of the Preserve. The passenger side door was open and Stiles leaned over the baby seat. He had already tied the sling to his front and the collection bag on his back.

“You’re going to help dada collect ingredients,” Stiles cooed at the baby and he giggled. “Ya,” Stiles said with a smile. He unbuckled the baby, tickling him. The baby giggled and Stiles laughed with him.

“Stiles,” a voice, Derek, called from behind him.

Stiles whipped around, grabbing an exploding pouch. He sighed when he saw Derek. “Hey Sourwolf. You scared me,” he said with a smile.

Derek looked at him skeptically, leaning to the side to see into the jeep. “Did you bring Eli out here?”

“What? No,” Stiles scoffed, blocking Derek’s view. “Why would I do that?”

Derek hummed, walking closer. Eli giggled, blowing spit bubbles, and Stiles had to stop himself from smiling. “Then whose baby is in the jeep,” Derek asked and Stiles didn’t answer. “Nothing to say?”

“Well,” Stiles sighed, turning to pull baby Eli out of his seat, “it would be a lot harder to explain bringing someone else’s baby out here.”

Derek hummed, kissing Stiles. He smiled when Eli grabbed his hand, trying to eat Derek’s finger. “Be careful, especially collecting the wolf’s bane.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I packed a cure just in case,” he said, slipping him into the baby sling. “That’s why bubby is facing dada, ya. So we don’t grab things,” Stiles smiled, kissing the top of Eli’s head. “Do you want to walk with us,” he asked Derek.

“They finished construction on the house so I want to finish painting Eli’s room today,” Derek hummed.

Stiles pulled Derek down for a kiss and smiled. “I think I won this whole dating thing. I got a boyfriend, a house, and a baby in one go.”

“It would be husband if you would say yes,” Derek said snarkily.

Stiles chuckled and Kissed Derek. “Then woo me! Make me want to be a Hale,” Stiles told him, walking off into the trees.

Derek smiled. He was definitely going to marry that man one day.

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek #magic stiles #spark stiles #magical stiles stilinski #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fandom #sterek fic #sterek fanfiction #sterek fandom #wolf derek #full shift derek

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sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy · 28 days ago

Text

Stiles is Supernatural Crack

3. Puppy Piles and Magic Spells

Derek parked along the street and Stiles opened his car door. His nose was still stuck in the book to the point that he didn’t see Scoot and literally walked into him.

“Scott, hey man. Look at all the cool things I found in this book,” Stiles said and looked up at Scott. His eyes had heavy bags under them. He was pale and practically dead on his feet.

Scott took the book away. “How many spells did you do? You need to go to bed,” Scott definitively.

Stiles rolled his eyes but walked towards his house with Scott and Derek to either side. Jackson trailed behind them, ready to play catch if he had too. They made it to the threshold of the door and were stopped. Scott unlocked the door and pushed it open, feeling his hand hit a barrier.

“Stiles, did you put mountain ash in the doorway,” Scott asked with a sigh.

“And the windows. I do whenever there’s a new big bad. Here,” Stiles said, kicking his foot out. He didn’t touch the line of ash but it scattered like he had. “I’ll fix it later.”

Scott and Derek shared a look. Magic. Stiles held the Nemeton magic.They crossed the entryway. Jackson turned to open the door and stopped. He was completely perplexed. The line of mountain ash had reformed itself. He got Derek and Scott’s attention and pointed it out. He closed the door and decided not to think too hard on it. Maybe it was a new Stiles thing.

“God, why am I so tired,” Stiles huffed. It was relieving and irritating all at once. He wasn’t supposed to sleep on a concussion– he wondered if it still applied since he’d apparently been unconscious most the night– but he was drained. On the bright side, the buzzing was weak and wasn’t nearly as loud.

“Probably because you were muttering spells the whole way here,” Jackson mumbled, earning a glare from Derek.

“I’ll make you something to eat,” Scott told Stiles. “You go up to bed.”

Stiles looked at Scott like he was crazy. “Scott, you’ll burn my house down,” He said with raised eyebrows, quickly adding a “sorry Derek.”

“Come on man, I’m not that bad!”

“Do you remember that time we tried to make pizza and you thought it would be cool to cook it like they do in a pizza oven and you didn’t put a pan under the pizza when you put it in the oven…”

“Fine! I’ll just make a sandwich. Jeez…” Scott mumbled and Stiles smirked, shooting him finger guns.

Stiles started towards the stairs and about ate shit. He would have if Derek hadn’t been there to catch him by the shirt. He took another step and another. As he went up to his room, he was pretty sure Derek was never more than two inches away.

Or at least he was till they got to Stiles’ room. Stiles walked in and crawled under his covers. He stretched and sighed. Damn, it felt good to be in his own bed again. He felt fucking exhausted and energized all at once. He looked up to see Derek just standing by the door staring at him. Stiles returned the stare but Derek didn’t seem to care.

Stiles narrowed his eye, watching Derek. “Are you going to stand there like a creep or…” he asked and Derek rolled his eyes.

Derek walked over to Stiles’ desk and pulled out the chair. He dragged it next to Stiles’ bed and sat down. He didn’t stop staring at Stiles.

He snorted, “yes, that is so much better. You, sitting next to my bed and staring at me…”

“Would a sandwich stop the weird,” Scott asked, walking into the room with a plate and a glass of water.

“No but it’ll stop my stomach from trying to eat itself,” Stiles said, sitting up to take the plate. “What’s this,” he asked, holding up a pill.

“Sleeping pills,” Scott shrugged.

“Not the melatonin ones, right? Those ones cause the–”

“I know,” Scott said, hearing the uptake in Stiles’ heartbeat. “I made sure to get yours.”

“Great,” Stiles said, popping the pills in his mouth and chugging the water.

He didn’t even remember eating the sandwich. Stiles woke up to the whole troop crowding him again. Well, except Jackson who seems to have taken over Derek’s position as the Creepy Corner Stalker™. Scott was laying in the bed on Stiles’ right and Kira was asleep on top of him. Ethan was also in the bed on his left. Malia, who didn’t have the word personal space anywhere in her vocabulary, was laying at the end of the bed in the last bit of room left. Isaac passed out sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, and Liam was on the floor too, leaning on Isaac’s shoulder and the bed. Derek… Derek was in his full wolf form, laying on Stiles’ chest

Stiles was fucking suffocating from the shear amount of heat radiating off the others. Add his blankets and two more that Scott and Malia had apparently deemed necessary and he felt like he was having a heat stroke. The change in Stiles breathing, signaling he was awake, must have been like a goddamned alarm clock because they all woke up and were staring at him.

“Gee, almost the whole gang's here,” Stiles rasped, his voice still rough from sleep.

“Lydia and Mason are doing research in the kitchen,” came a rogue mumble from god-knows-who in the pile.

“Why don’t we invite Parrish. I’m sure we aren’t quite to a fire code violation yet,” Stiles snarked, shuffling uncomfortably and Derek huffed a hot breath in his face. “Hey, puppy breath, if you don’t get some of these blankets off, I’m going to catch on fire!”

It didn’t seem to disturb the pile of sleepy werewolves. Stiles watched as Isaac reached up and pulled one of the blankets onto the floor. There were mumbled arguments of “get your own” and “you’re an ass” before what was likely Liam pulled a blanket off the bed for himself.

They must have heard the group bickering from downstairs because, soon enough, Lydia and Mason came up to Stiles' room to do research. Mason took the stack of books and their computers to the desk, not batting an eye when Lydia abandoned him for Stiles.

Lydia pressed a hand to Stiles' forehead and pursed her lips. He was definitely warm. It was anybody’s guess if it was because he was sick and healing or because of the eight personal space heaters packed into his room.

“It’s weird, right,” Scott asked Lydia in a sleep heavy voice and she nodded.

“I just don’t understand why we feel it…” Lydia hummed, standing up but still looking at Stiles.

“What’s weird? Feel what,” Stiles asked. It was never good when the brain trust was confused.

“Nobody called us to say you were home,” Kira said. “We all just… showed up. It was like something was pulling us to you…”

“Stiles,” Lydia pulled his attention. She started to say something but closed her lips tightly. “I don’t remember driving here.”

“Like when you find dead bodies ‘don’t remember driving here’ don’t remember,” Stiles asked and Lydia nodded. “Well I’m not dead and they’re all too warm to be dead.”

“I found the Nemeton page,” Mason said, walking over to the bed, still reading the Bestiary off the laptop. Lydia walked over to him to read it too.

Kira watched them and then looked back to Stiles. “Lydia was with Mason and me when she started on her way here,” she told him in a whisper, knowing Mason and Lydia were the only ones who didn’t hear. “It wasn’t exactly like when she finds bodies, more like when she found the Nemeton last time…”

“Is that why they’re looking for info about it,” Stiles asked.

Kira nodded, “and because of what Deaton said… Scott told Lydia what he remembered and Derek filled in the rest.” Kira took a deep breath and looked at Stiles. “When Lydia broke out of the trance and realized where she was… she started freaking out. She ran in and,” she chewed her lip, “it took both Scott and Jackson to keep her downstairs. They had to let her come up here and take your pulse just to be sure you were alive.”

Stiles frowned and looked at Lydia. “She was that worried?”

“She thought you’d died,” Kira said with a frown.

“God, it’s hot in here,” Mason huffed, handing the laptop over to Lydia. He took his jacket off and started towards the window.

“No! No! Don’t–” Liam yelled as Mason opened the window.

A swarm of fae tried to fly in. Thanks to the absurd number of mountain ash around the house– courtesy of Stiles– they couldn’t get in. The peaceful pile of sleepy werewolves was disrupted as Scott jumped out of the bed, knocking Kira onto the floor. Scott slammed the window shut and Mason looked at him, breathing heavily. Derek moved to look towards the commotion, giving Stiles the chance to sit up.

“What the Hell was that,” Scott asked.

From the other side of the room, Lydia sighed and started to explain, “those were–”

"The fae," Stiles mumbled.

She looked back at the laptop. “Long story short: Stiles absorbed the magic from the Nemeton and now he’s like crack to magical creatures,” Lydia told them. She gestured to Stiles, “Stiles is the Nemeton now so all the supernatural creatures are being drawn to him.”

Scott looked at Lydia with his patented I-don’t-understand-anything-you-just-said look. “But the Nemeton was never this bad.”

“The Nemeton didn’t have centuries worth of magic crammed into, what is it he said, one-hundred and forty-five pounds of pale skin and fragile bones,” Isaac pitched in. Liam must have hit him as it was quickly followed by, “Ouch! What the fuck, Liam?”

“Shut up,” Liam said.

Before they could get any further on the topic, all the Weres became aware of something the others didn’t know.

“Food’s here,” Liam yelled, jumping up and running out of the room.

Malia got up from her spot too and went after Liam. The second Malia was out the door, Isaac was in the space on the bed she’d left. Obviously they were all excited for food. As quickly as they were gone, Liam and Malia came back with food.

“What the fuck,” Malia complained, staring at Isaac.

“What,” Isaac said, feigning innocence.

“You stole my spot,” Malia told him, moving to stand at the edge of the bed.

“Move your meat, lose your seat,” Isaac shrugged, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Oh, I’ll show you move your meat,” Malia retorted and snickers rolled through the room.

Malia grabbed Isaac’s scarf. Isaac grabbed her wrist and glared at her.

“If you rip it, I’ll kill you,” Isaac threatened.

“Bull. Shit,” Malia scoffed, pulling hard on the scarf in an attempt to move Isaac.

The sound of threads ripping made Isaac’s eyes go wide. She succeeded in moving him but, apparently, Malia didn’t expect that when he moved, he’d tackle her to the ground. The two hit the floor with a loud thump. They argued and bickered like children, smacking and grabbing at each other's hands. They finally seemed to be in a stalemate, glaring at each other.

Malia dug her claws into the back of his hands and Isaac yelped “fuck,” in surprise, faultering for just a second.

The second was enough for Malia to throw Isaac off and get to her feet. She looked at her spot triumphantly, only to see Liam in her spot and Kira eating her abandoned meal.

“Oh sorry, is this yours,” Kira asked jokingly and Isaac started laughing wildly.

“Serves you right,” Isaac said.

Kira smiled, sitting down next to Stiles, and ate the burger smugly, leaving her curly fries unprotected. Stiles took the opportunity and stole some of them. Kira turned to yell at whoever had stolen her food. She looked from Stiles to Derek and back. She gave an irritated huff and glared at Stiles.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing,” Scott muttered and Kira’s glare turned to him. “She gets very territorial about food.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that some of us had fast metabolisms,” Kira scoffed.

“Ya, like Stiles,” Liam pitched in around a mouth full of food.

“Oh god,” Malia groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Could you imagine how much Stiles would eat if he was a werewolf,” Scott remarked with a chuckle, coming back over to sit on the bed.

“Hey,” Stiles interjected, “I am right here, guys.”

“Alright ‘right-here’, eat up,” Sheriff said, tossing a bag of food at his son.

Parrish walked in with Sheriff Noah. Between the two of them they had enough food to feed the small army in Stiles' room. Everyone moved to be closer to get their food. Scott sat on the floor and leaned against Stiles' bedside table. Lydia was allowed space on the bed without a fight out of both fear and respect.

Sheriff stopped as he gave Scott his food. “What’s with the dog?”

The comment sent the room into a fit of laughter. Based on the way Derek’s ears set back and the fact that Stiles could somehow tell Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed even though they didn’t exist at the moment, he didn’t find it nearly as funny.

“That’s Derek,” Stiles said between laughter.

“Did Derek… Ya know what,” Noah held his hands up in defeat, “I don’t care. I don’t want to know.”

Parrish, who had come in with Sheriff Noah, was passing out the bags of food. When the last of the food was handed out, they all started to eat. The plan was to eat and then explain because there was a lot to unravel.

“If you guys learn anything from Deaton,” Liam asked, looking at Scott expectantly.

Scott nodded, swallowing his mouthful of food. “What happened with the Chupacabra and to you were defensive spells.” Scott looked at Stiles, “you said the magic had a buzzing feeling, right?” Stiles nodded and Scott started talking again. “Because Stiles has all that power– like Lydia said– it builds in a buzzing feeling. Deaton gave Stiles a book of spells that he can work on that will help get rid of that feeling and help him relax but he has to be careful not to overdo it. The important part is that the magic saved Stiles’ life. It’s what allowed him to fight the chupacabra off him.”

Stiles nodded, looking around the room. The buzzing was back, slowing building the longer he was awake. How often would this happen? How long before it became unbearable again? Stiles looked around, spotting the book on his bedside table. He looked at it and then at Ethan.

The werewolf seemed to get the point rather quickly and gave Stiles the book. He gave a thankful smile and opened the book. He looked through the book and found one of the lower protection spells. He mumbled the words, absently drawing the symbol. It wasn’t until the room went quiet and they looked at Stiles that he realized he was doing it.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, clearing his throat, "what were you saying?" He wasn’t sorry. The buzzing was fading and he felt better. He felt better.

Stiles rubbed his hand over Derek’s fur and slowly stopped. He’d drawn the symbol on Derek. What would that do? Would it do anything since Derek was a werewolf? Did it matter? He’d wanted to learn more so he could be of real help but what if he couldn’t? What if the spells wouldn’t work on the werewolves? Would they work on people or just objects? What if they didn’t stay long enough to be any good? What good was he? He’d almost gotten killed in the last fight! He hurt Liam because he couldn’t control the magic that saved his life! He was useless and dangerous. He hurt people.

Derek nosed at Stiles arm and pulled him from his thoughts. Stiles looked down at Derek and felt how fast his breathing had gotten. The buzzing, fuck, it was coming back in full force. Stiles forced himself to slow his breathing. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall behind his bed.

Oh, this was going to be a pain in his ass.

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek #scott mcall #lydia martin #liam dunbar #kira yukimura #malia tate #mason hewitt #jackson whittemore #wolf derek #isaac lahey #spark stiles #magic stiles

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