Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/780168.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall, Cora_Hale, Jackson
      Whittemore, Danny_Mahealani, Sheriff_Stilinski, Talia_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Wolf_Derek, Soul_Bond, Telepathic_Bond, Mates, Knotting, Dirty_Talk,
      Angst, Insecure_Derek, Oblivious_Stiles, First_Time, Jealous_Derek, Derek
      is_a_Failwolf, Panic_Attacks, Dubious_Consent, Minor_Suicidal_Thoughts,
      Alternate_Universe_-_No_Hale_Fire, Alive_Hale_Family, Soulmates, Sort_of
      Somnophilia, Blow_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-05-01 Updated: 2015-04-04 Chapters: 10/11 Words: 27483
****** Dream a Little Dream ******
by nakatas_cat
Summary
     For months, Stiles has been dreaming of a mysterious, hot guy sexing
     him up only to wake up to his dog beside him rather than his lover
     the next morning. Tonight's no different. Or is it?
Notes
     Betaed by tealeaf523. Thanks a lot! You did a wonderful job!
     Please see end notes about the dubious consent warning.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
Hot breath tickled his neck, the only warning he got before strong teeth bit
down on the sensitive flesh at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The
pleasure-pain flaring through Stiles' whole body made him tremble and his toes
curl. There was no question whose teeth were slowly but surely driving him
insane, who knew how to push his buttons like no one else.
"Hello again," Stiles breathed. He wasn't shy; he was quite the opposite
actually, never shutting up, what with the lack of a brain-to-mouth filter.
Somehow, though, he became much more self-aware whenever this mystery guy
pressed his ripped body against Stiles' back.
Maybe it was the licking and the sucking, or the strong arms wrapped around
him, or the big hard length rubbing against his ass that made him so self-
conscious.
Maybe it was the being a complete virgin, who dreamed of the steamiest sex
imaginable with a very demanding, hot guy while sleeping next to his dog thing.
Who knew? And who cared when said licking and sucking left him with mushy peas
in place of a brain.
"You taste so fucking good." The man's voice sent a shiver down his spine.
Even though the dream had barely begun Stiles was already a goner, more turned
on than he ever had been in his waking moments. He wiggled, trying to turn
around in the strong embrace but the man's grasp just tightened.
"No," mystery guy growled in warning, teeth sinking into Stiles' neck again to
hold him in place.
"Oh, come on! I want to see you," Stiles whined, but knew he didn't stand a
chance against the strength and will of this dream guy. And what exactly did
that say about him - that he liked to be dominated and manhandled?
"Maybe next time... if you're a good boy tonight."
Suddenly, the man pushed and pulled him until his cock slipped between Stiles'
ass cheeks, making Stiles' hole twitch in anticipation. Well, what was wrong
with being a sucker for being dominated and manhandled? Ha, a sucker. Sucking
his lover's cock. Stiles could definitely get behind that.
Thing was, said lover seemed to have plans other than letting Stiles turn and
wrap his lips around what had to be a pretty well-proportioned dick. Stiles'
clue was when the man behind him started sliding his cock along Stiles' hole,
precum making his movements that much slicker, and better.
"You ready for it?"
Stiles could only nod frantically because Jesus, was he ready for it! He
should've known better, though, when nothing happened - like literally nothing
- no movement whatsoever.
And hey, how unfair was that!?! This was Stiles' dream, for Christ's sake! He
decided when he got fucked!
Again, dream guy obviously didn't agree with him on that. "Say it!" his lover
growled. "Say what you want and maybe I'll give it to you."
Stiles groaned in frustration. So far, in every wet dream of the last couple of
months - which all had starred mystery guy as leading actor next to himself -
the man had demanded that Stiles be vocal about what he wanted. And thinking
back to the whole virgin in real life deal who, okay, watched his fair share of
porn - he was a teenager, thank you very much - there was still the problem
that he was somewhat bashful around his dream man.
'Jeez, get a grip, Stiles! This is a dream! No one'll know if you practice your
dirty talk skills with ridiculously hot lover boy here. Who, just a quick
reminder, doesn't even exist outside of your dreamscape!'
"Fuck me! Shove your cock inside me until I can feel it in my throat!"
When a low almost animal like growl rang out next to his ear Stiles would have
loved to do a little victory dance. Score!
"As you wish. If this was real, you'd be feeling me for days."
For a split second, Stiles wondered how this imaginary guy who starred in all
of his X-rated dreams could know that this was just a dream. But then, the man
sank into him and all thoughts flew out the window. Or wherever else thoughts
went when they were fucked out of your brain.
The man didn't give him time to adjust at all, just started thrusting into him
in earnest, and Stiles really didn't need it. God, he loved his dreams!
Stiles moaned loudly when his lover twisted and pulled on his nipples - another
button of his alongside praises of what a good boy he was, how very fuckable
and pliant he was, which made him tremble and push back into each stroke with
fervor, trying to give as good as he got. It was so good, the hard length
inside him pounding into his prostate time and time again. He knew he wouldn't
last much longer.
The hot mouth that had been busy muttering filth into his neck in between
licking and nipping and nuzzling moved up to his ear, biting into the fleshy
lobe before mumbling, "I'm gonna knot you now, baby. Make you feel so good."
Stiles gasped. Knot him? As in knot him, knot him? What the fuck?
Just when he started to think that now would maybe be a good time to wake up he
felt a persistent push against his rim at every stroke of his - crazy? - dream
lover.
"Relax. You'll love it."
Somehow, Stiles calmed down. Dream guy kind of always had that effect on him.
Stiles trusted him. Dream guy always made him feel good.
Then, on the next push, the knot slipped inside, locking the man inside his
hole, and Stiles went wild.
The constant pressure on his prostate made him thrash around, panting and
moaning as if his life depended on it. Nothing, not a single thing, had ever
felt better. Judging from the deep grunts and groans behind him, mystery guy
approved as well.
"Good boy! Such a good boy! Gonna fill you up now. You want that, huh?"
"Yes! Yes, fill me up! Make me come!" Stiles whined, totally gone in the
pleasure his dream man was bestowing on him.
"Come, Stiles! Come, now!"
Suddenly, Stiles felt a bite on his neck and he screamed, coming in hot spurts
all over his stomach without ever being touched. He was still shaking with the
intensity of his orgasm when the man behind him stiffened, calling something
that sounded a lot like "Mate!" as pulse after pulse of hot come shot into
Stiles. The sensation sent sparks flying through him, making his dick twitch
out one last rope of come.
Sweet Mother Mary! Best. Orgasm. Ever. Even if he was just dreaming it. Didn't
matter. It felt real, and he'd definitely wake up to soiled and sticky boxers
in the morning. Yuck. Still, totally worth it. He'd so insist on knotting every
time they fucked from then on.
Who'd have thought that it would be so good! He hadn't even known about
knotting until just recently when he'd done some research on dogs after a very
insistent specimen had shown up on his back porch again and again until he'd
finally wormed his way into Stiles' heart and bed. Even though he'd read about
it rather accidentally after stumbling upon it - how fucked up was it that he
dreamed of it now, of being knotted, to cap it all off?
Ah, well, there were weirder kinks in the world, Stiles figured. And hey, he
couldn't really be held responsible for his dreams now, could he?
Dream guy's cock was still locked inside Stiles' ass, spurting another round of
come into him. Stiles grinned when he felt the man shiver.
"I'm a sex god," Stiles couldn't bite back, a smug grin on his face.
The eye roll was pretty much audible in the man's tone. "Shut up, Stiles, and
sleep."
Closing his eyes, still sporting a smile, Stiles thought that it took his kinky
subconscious to make him realize what he longed for the most. It wasn't the
knotting in particular either, though that was definitely a bonus. No, it was
the whole package that he longed for. Dream guy.
Fuck! Only he could be so stupid to fall for a figment of his own imagination!
Stiles sighed somewhat resignedly and decided to just relish the sleepy
caresses of the man's big hands and the intimate connection that they still
shared. The last thought before slipped away was how he wished that he'd wake
up next to this man.
When Derek woke up, his muzzle was shoved into Stiles' neck, the skin there
damp from his panting. His canine body was wrapped around the human as tight as
possible. He went through a quick inspection of his state and was relieved to
find he hadn't come in his sleep. It was one thing to be forced to be celibate
around his mate and have a bad case of blue balls. But, it was another thing
altogether to scare his human away by ejaculating dog spunk all over his back.
Besides, it wasn't as if he hadn't enjoyed their little dream session even
without getting off physically. The mental climax had totally made up for it.
Tonight had been even better than usual. All of their dreams were hot and
deeply satisfying. He was the one who created them after all. But, tonight's
decision to finally introduce his boy to the miracle of knotting had probably
been the best idea of Derek's life.
It all came down to Stiles in the end, always had. His reaction, his response
was all that counted.
When Derek had first set eyes on the hyperactive kid roaming the woods with his
friend he'd known that Stiles was it. The one. Fast forward through a couple of
weeks of consequently stalking Stiles, and Derek had finally found himself in
the place he wanted to be: his mate's house and bed.
Not even looking like a wolf - he was a werewolf, after all, not a weredog -
had stopped him from getting what he wanted. Stiles wasn't stupid; far from it.
He'd known that Derek wasn't a dog, but Derek had done everything to persuade
Stiles of his harmlessness and his domestic behaviors.
Good thing nobody had been a threat for his mate so far or harmlessness would
have been the last thing on Derek's mind.
It seemed that Stiles for his part had decided at some point to just ignore the
fact that his new friend was a wolf. He'd started calling Derek "Dog", plain
and simple, explaining to everyone who did and didn't want to know that Derek
was just that, a dog, not a wolf or any other dangerous wild animal. Derek had
only huffed after Stiles' first nervous justification and had been playing his
role ever since.
At first, Derek had thought that just being close to his mate would suffice for
now. But then their bond had formed, faster than Derek had anticipated, and
he'd suddenly found himself in one of Stiles' dreams that had somehow resulted
in an irrational jealousy of curly fries and their first dream make-out
session.
Over the months, Derek had become a frequent visitor of Stiles' dreams. It was
something he just couldn't deny himself. He craved to be close to his mate in
any way or form possible, the unusually strong bond dictating their mental
connection in their sleep. It was virtually impossible to resist the pull of
the boy's mind when they were asleep because Derek didn't give in to the desire
to invade his mate's mind without his consent while they were awake. That way
at least, they both didn't have to suffer from telepathic separation but could
enjoy their connection.
Derek just hoped Stiles would be able to appreciate that Derek forbade himself
to penetrate his mate's private sphere, his thoughts, more severely, even
though he was desperate to do it.
It was still too early, though. His mate wasn't ready yet for this kind of
connection, for the big reveal, but Derek would continue to prepare him in
their dreams.
Tonight had been a big step. Stiles had surprised him when he had taken the
knotting as if he was born for it, loving it even, after only a short freak-
out. Derek had slipped in his ecstasy and called him 'mate' but fortunately,
his ever-curious human hadn't questioned it. This was a hurdle they'd clear
another night.
Just as they would tackle the whole being telepathically bonded to a werewolf
thing later on. It was a painfully slow build-up, but Derek knew it was worth
it, knew it was the best way. He'd heard of others who'd totally overwhelmed
their human partners by just dumping everything on them the minute they had
found them. Derek had sworn to himself he wouldn't repeat their mistakes if he
happened to have a human mate. He also wouldn't play games with his mate by
meeting him as a human, pretending he didn't know Stiles, his traits and quirks
and moans when Derek devoured him in their dreams.
No, he'd make his mate understand and fall in love with his wolf side when
awake and with his human side while asleep before revealing himself and the
complex nature of their relationship.
Maybe next time, he'd finally get over the ridiculous fear of not being Stiles'
'type' enough to let the boy see him in their dream. Maybe he'd tell him a
little story in between their love-making about two souls that belonged
together, no matter what form they took.
Maybe in the not too distant future, Derek would be able to hold Stiles in his
arms in reality instead of in their dreams, and would be able to cherish and
protect him just like a good mate should.
Nuzzling contentedly into the pale neck in front of him, Derek fell asleep
again, surrounded by the delectable scent of his mate.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     By general request, I decided to write more since technically Stiles
     & Derek aren't really together yet. Quite a bit of angst crept into
     this part, so be warned.
     Betaed by el-gilliath. Thank you so much for stepping in!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
"Derek."
"Hm?"
"My name is Derek."
Stiles blinked. He was still a little dazed after his orgasm just a minute ago
and he could still feel his mystery lover locked deep inside him, filling him.
It was the third time that the man knotted him and Stiles still had no clue
what his dream guy looked like.
To say it came as a surprise when the man told him his name was an
understatement. Stiles had grown tired of calling him 'mystery lover' or 'dream
guy' or whatever else in his head. He could've given the man a name himself,
what with this being his dream. But somehow he hadn't. It hadn't felt right.
How his subconscious came up with 'Derek', however, he had no idea. He didn't
know anyone with this name which was probably a blessing. It would've been
awkward if his mind had used the name of someone he knew for the guy he fucked
with in his dreams.
Maybe he'd read the name somewhere. Yeah, that made sense. It didn't really
matter, anyway. All that mattered was the fact that he now had a name he could
shout when they had sex.
"Nice to meet you, Derek," Stiles spoke quietly, smiling softly to himself. It
felt good, saying the man's name, right somehow. It felt like it fit this
dominating guy that did things to his body that he could only dream of,
literally. His subconscious had chosen well. It could've named him 'Arnold' or
'McGuyver'. Scary, but sometimes - read: most of the time - his mind just
worked like this. So, Stiles could really be proud of it this time. 'Derek' was
definitely the better choice, the best choice.
Derek just grunted in response, tightening his hold on Stiles even more. It
wasn't stifling, though. It was kinda nice to be held this closely, his back
pressed against a hot chest, still connected. It made Stiles feel like nobody
could hurt him here, like he was safe from everything evil in the world.
As so often, he just wished he could have this in the waking world, too.
Stiles was waiting for the dream to fade to black as it always did when they
were lying intertwined in post-coital bliss when the man's voice rang out
again.
"What we have is special, Stiles. You, you're special."
Stiles swallowed hard and made a non-committal noise. Derek sounded so
reverent, so sincere. It hurt because it was exactly what Stiles wanted someone
say to him when he wasn't dreaming. He didn't understand why his subconscious
would hurt him like that.
Closing his eyes firmly, Stiles just wished for the dream to end. He knew he'd
feel even more lonely in the morning than usually after one of his dreams with
Derek.
When the dream finally slipped away Stiles was relieved. Before it sank into
darkness completely he could hear Derek say, "You're everything, Stiles. I'll
show you. Just you wait."
                                        
Derek was an idiot. An idiot and a coward. He could see the loneliness in
Stiles' eyes during the day, could feel it when he snuggled up to Derek's furry
body in the night before they fell asleep. His mate could sense that something
was missing, not quite right, even though the sensation was just subliminal.
Stiles didn't know about mates, about bonding, about its intensity and
repercussions. He didn't know that his mind and body craved to be bonded to
Derek completely. They were already past the initial stages of the bond, could
enter each other's dreams and minds if they wanted to. The full bond, though,
would be much stronger. Right now, they could probably only get vague thoughts
and images through their telepathic connection. Dreams were something
different. While asleep, their minds were the most vulnerable, the most open.
All their barriers, even the subconscious ones, were down, allowing their minds
to mingle.
Once they were fully bonded, they'd need to touch each other's minds regularly
to avoid telepathic separation. Even in this early stage, not giving in to
their mental pull towards one another would result in a mild form of telepathic
separation though it would most likely only be some bad headaches and probably
anxiety. In a fully bonded pair, though, being out of mental touch for too long
could lead to one or, in the worst case, both of them entering a catatonic
state that they'd only be able to get out of with the help of their mate and a
long telepathic fusion.
This rarely happened, though, as far as Derek knew. The upsides definitely
outweighed the downsides. Not everyone's mate was also their soulmate since
there were several people who were compatible to a werewolf as a mate, who the
wolf would accept. But there was only one who man and wolf would be able to
form a mental connection with.
Derek's parents were soulbonded mates. They were stupidly happy and seemed to
love each other more with every passing day. Derek could count the times he'd
seen them argue on one hand. They always seemed so in tune with each other, a
product of their intimate psychic connection. They could hold a whole
conversation telepathically.
Derek had always wanted this kind of connection and closeness to another
person, too. He'd once met another werewolf who his wolf recognized as a
potential mate. Even though she had pursued him, Derek had refused to mate with
her because he'd known that she wasn't his soulmate. He'd decided to wait for
the one.
At the first glance of Stiles Derek had known that the wait was over.
So far, though, he was doing a bad job of wooing his mate. Stiles didn't
understand what his mind and body needed and missed. It was only natural that
his confusion led to Stiles feeling lonely.
Derek tried his best to alleviate it. He showered his mate in attention and
affection in his wolf form. He'd nudge him and persuade him to play whenever
Stiles got that faraway look in his eyes. Or he'd jump up, paws on Stiles'
chest, to lick his face and nuzzle his neck. Usually, Stiles would relax and
laugh at his antics and forget about his problems for awhile.
Derek was aware, though, that the only real cure for Stiles' loneliness was the
completion of their bond. And for that, Stiles needed to consent. And for that,
Derek needed to get over his own anxieties and let Stiles in on what was going
on with him, with them.
It was their second dream after Derek had told Stiles his name - which had led
to some awesome sex the night after with Stiles shouting Derek's name as he had
climaxed - when Derek figured he finally had to pull himself together and show
himself to Stiles.
When the dream began to form around them they sat in a meadow, Derek behind
Stiles with his arms around the human, both clothed. Most often, Derek would
dream them on Stiles' bed, naked, though sometimes he liked to spice things up
and have Stiles against a wall or bend over the couch in the living room. Never
before had they been outside of Stiles' house, though, in their dreamscape.
Derek thought it was appropriate for tonight. It was time for the next step,
make Stiles fall in love with his human side, and therefore he had to win him
over with more than just sex.
It didn't take long for Stiles to notice the change of scenery. He started
squirming in Derek's embrace, obviously confused.
"Derek?"
Taking a deep breath, Derek let go of Stiles and waited for the boy to turn
around. He didn't have to wait long.
Big brown eyes roamed over Derek, trailing his face and body up and down before
they finally settled on Derek's face.
"Derek? Is that you?" Stiles all but whispered, lifting his hand as if to touch
Derek's cheek but stopping just short of meeting his skin with the tip of his
fingers.
Derek nodded curtly. He didn't know what to make of Stiles' reaction.
Thankfully, his mate didn't leave him in the dark much longer.
"Wow. You look like a Greek God or something," Stiles mumbled more or less to
himself.
Derek could feel his face flush and his heart skip a beat before continuing in
a much quicker pace. He would have been embarrassed for blushing like a little
girl if the relief and joy flooding through him hadn't been so all-
encompassing.
Shaking himself, Stiles suddenly leapt into action and right into Derek's lap,
grabbing Derek's face in both hands and kissing him like there was no tomorrow.
For a second, Derek was too startled to react but he got with the program
quickly, taking control over the kiss and slowing it down. This was their first
kiss. It shouldn't be hurried or frenzied. Derek wanted do indulge in it, in
Stiles and his unique taste.
They kissed for what felt like hours. With a deep sigh, Derek finally broke it,
pressing his forehead to his mate's. They were both breathing a little quicker,
hot puffs of air coming from Stiles' parted, swollen lips and caressing Derek's
face. It made him want to dive right back in and continue where they had left
off but Derek had something else planned for tonight.
"Hi Stiles," he said in a low gravelly voice. "How are you?"
As if his words had been some kind of trigger, Stiles suddenly pulled away,
staring at him with wide eyes. "Small talk? Now you want to make small talk?
Now that I finally get to see you and can barely keep my hands off of you
because you're so freakin' hot?"
Stiles' arms were flailing about wildly in indignation.
Derek felt a jolt when he heard once more that his mate obviously seemed to
like what he could see. Smiling, now that one of his worries had been quashed,
Derek simply shrugged in answer. While he didn't want to make small talk in
particular, he definitely wanted to talk. It was necessary to make Stiles see.
He just really wasn't a conversationalist and hadn't known how else to begin.
"But I'd rather roll around the meadow with you and suck you and ride you while
you knot me now that I can look at you."
Derek groaned, hiding his face in his mate's neck. Stiles had come a long way
from being rather self-conscious to being his usual, sometimes a little
annoying self around him. The pictures that Stiles' words had planted into his
brain almost made him discard his original plan. Then, he remembered the lost
and longing look in Stiles' eyes when they were awake and he knew what he had
to do.
Lifting his head, Derek gazed deep into his eyes. "I want to talk to you, get
to know you, have you get to know me."
Stiles looked baffled. "But... why? You're not even a real person. You're just
a figment of my imagination."
It stung even though Derek was well aware that Stiles simply didn't know
better.
"I'm so much more than that," he spoke gravely with his hands on both sides of
his mate's face, willing Stiles to hear the truth in his words.
For ages, they just stared into each other's eyes, neither of them saying a
word.
Stiles was the one breaking the silence. "What are you then, Derek?" he asked
quietly, his pertness from before gone.
"I'm everything you want me to be," Derek answered steadily and without
hesitation, a simple answer because it was the truth. He would be everything
Stiles wanted him to be. He would be his friend, his lover, his mate, his
soulmate, his everything if Stiles let him. If not, if Stiles did not want him,
then he'd leave even if it would break his heart and destroy every chance of
happiness for him. It was possible to let go of your soulmate if you hadn't
formed a full bond already. They'd both suffer from a light form of telepathic
separation but it would subside with time, especially for Stiles.
Stiles as a human would probably be fine after a while. He'd be able to fall in
love with someone else and get on with his life.
Derek, however, was a different story. He'd always feel as if one part of his
soul was missing. His wolf would never accept anyone else as his mate now that
he'd had a taste of his one true mate. Derek would be forced to lead a lonely
life, longing for Stiles.
It felt like time stood still as Derek awaited Stiles' next words. When they
finally came it caused another sting in his heart.
"Just hold me," Stiles spoke under his breath, gaze turned downward into his
own lap. "I just want you to hold me tonight."
Stiles looked like a little boy who was desperate for affection, for love. For
all Derek knew, he was. Stiles only had his dad and his friend, Scott, but
neither of them could give the boy the affection that he needed, now more than
ever with his soul noticing Derek, his soulmate, close by. Not even Derek in
his wolf form was enough to quench Stiles' desire because it was a human's
touch that he craved.
In their dreams, however, Derek could and would give him everything he needed.
It was a poor substitute for the real thing but hopefully Stiles would take
everything that Derek still had to tell him well. Then, nothing would stand in
the way of them having this in reality as well.
He pulled Stiles closer and wrapped his arms around him, laying his head on top
of the boy's short hair and caressing his back and sides in soothing motions.
The little sigh that left Stiles' mouth as he tugged his face into Derek's neck
let Derek know that he was doing the right thing by forgoing his plan of
talking in favor of being what his mate needed him to be right now, someone to
hold and love him.
They sat like that for the reminder of their dream which ended only with the
ringing of Stiles' alarm. There'd be another night, the next night, to speak
with Stiles, Derek thought as he, lazily stretching his furry body, watched
Stiles hopping out of bed and getting ready for school from his position on the
bed. 
Chapter End Notes
     Of course, I won't leave it at that. That'd be just cruel, now,
     wouldn't it? ;)
     Please let me know what you thought of it!
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm so so sorry for vanishing off the face of the earth for so long.
     RL was a bitch but I finally got a break to continue.
     This chapter is only Stiles' POV. The next will be Derek's and is
     pretty much finished so you won't have to wait that long for the next
     part. :)
     Betaed by el-gilliath once more. Thanks a bunch! <3
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The thing about Stiles' dreams was that he never knew when he'd next dream
about Derek. So, maybe that was a given since dreams didn't really come with a
weekly program like TV shows. Anyways, Stiles found himself both relieved and
disappointed after nights that didn't star Derek. The disappointment usually
prevailed and he started to wonder if he had a masochistic streak or something
that he was looking forward to feeling like shit after spending hours in his
dreamscape with a man he could never hope to meet in reality.
Their last dream had been different, very much so actually. He'd taken the
different setting in stride - no harm in spicing things up even if spicier
wasn't really required - but everything that had followed? Yeah, came a bit as
a surprise to Stiles. Because, seriously, nothing could have prepared him for
how incredibly sophisticated his imagination was regarding his dream man.
Derek looked as if he'd just climbed out of the cover of a GQ magazine - thick
dark hair, high cheekbones, a mouth to die for and the most mesmerizing and
indescribable eyes that Stiles had ever had the pleasure to look into. The rest
of the man had been covered in clothes so Stiles couldn't really form an
opinion on those parts but from what he'd felt over all those nights and from
what he could see Derek was built and ripped. Jeez, for all he knew the man
probably even had a perfect elbow.
So, all in all, it was really just natural that Stiles had tried to jump him
then and there. Which was when everything had taken a turn into an even more
different and weirder direction.
Derek had wanted to talk.
Stiles had thought he was in the wrong movie. Or dream, strictly speaking.
Seriously, you couldn't just dangle a carrot in front of him and then withhold
it from it. Not that he particularly liked carrots. Which was to say he really
didn't like carrots at all even though he made his dad eat them all the time
because apparently they were healthy and good for your eyes and whatnot.
Anyways, not the point. The point was that Derek had wanted to talk while
Stiles had wanted to hump the ridiculously hot man his fantasy had given him as
an early Christmas present.
He still wasn't quite sure how the dream had then turned into an extensive
cuddling session with himself being all emotional and Derek being more or less
empathic.
The next morning, Stiles had almost overslept because he just hadn't wanted to
wake up and leave the comfort of Derek's arms. It had helped that he had to
rush through his morning routine to get to school on time but sitting in class
that day, having way too much time to ponder - or rather to lose himself in
daydreams - hadn't helped his overall mood. Not even Scott had been able to
coax a smile out of him.
What had accomplished that in the end had actually been his dog, happily
chewing away on his dad's Jesus sandals that his dad loved to wear in his free
time and that Stiles absolutely despised. He'd even tried to sneakily dispose
of them - because, honestly, Stiles was just worried about his dad's reputation
and Jesus sandals didn't really earn the big bad Sheriff any points in coolness
- but, of course, his dad had caught him red-handed. Let's just say the Sheriff
hadn't been amused.
Stiles, however, had been very amused when he found his dog achieving what he
couldn't. One of the ridiculous things that, in Stiles' book, shouldn't even be
called shoes in the first place, had already been completely demolished, bits
and pieces lying everywhere, by the time Stiles had come home. The other one
had been on the best way to join its companion but had still been recognizable
as probably his dad's ugliest possession.
Seriously, his dog could be an asshole at times, destroying everything that
wasn't nailed down - like the shirt Scott had borrowed the last time he'd slept
over and that Stiles hadn't put away immediately after getting it back which
had resulted in one perfectly fine shirt being torn into shreds by a dog on a
killing spree. As annoying as it sometimes was, Stiles couldn't help but
completely adore his dog for ending the much hated Jesus sandals. Stiles had
praised him with pats and beef jerky.
He'd spent the rest of the day doing his homework, preparing dinner - a healthy
vegetable pie he'd found on his favorite cooking website -, eating with his dad
- who'd complained a bit about the lack of anything meaty - and surfing the web
before collapsing into bed with his dog. Stroking gently over his furry
friend's back while enjoying the warm tongue lapping at his neck more than he'd
ever admit, Stiles wondered what tonight's dream would bring.
In equal parts anticipation and apprehension, he closed his eyes and opened
them again to find himself in the woods, more precisely sitting on a fallen
tree. He could sense Derek's body next to his, not touching but close enough to
feel the man's body heat.
If there was any pattern to his dreams, then them being outside instead of in
Stiles' house meant that it was a Derek-wants-to-talk dream rather than a sexy
times dream.
Sure enough, Derek then began their interaction with a "Hello, Stiles" and not
with something physical.
Stiles wasn't sure if that was what he wanted tonight.
Turning sideways, he shamelessly soaked in the sight in front of him. Derek was
one fine specimen alright. Stiles felt his mouth water with the burning desire
to lick every last inch of the man's body.
No, he definitely didn't want to talk tonight. He had so many better ideas than
to ruin their limited time with words and emotions and all that crap.
Without much fuss, Stiles slid to his knees and pushed Derek's legs apart to
crawl between them. Looking up at the man, he saw Derek's eyes widen at
Stiles's actions.
"What are you doing, Stiles?"
The teenager smirked. "What I should've done yesterday already."
Deft fingers opened the older man's jeans before simply slipping inside the
underwear and pulling out a still flaccid but already rather impressive cock.
Stiles licked his lips at the sight and couldn't wait to get started but a hand
on his chin forced him to meet Derek's questioning gaze.
"Stiles..."
"Please," Stiles interrupted, not above begging to get what he wanted, "just
let me. Please, Derek."
Stiles would never know if it was something in his eyes or the man's name
passing his lips that finally got him a nod.
Immediately, Stiles bent forward and took the soft flesh into his mouth,
sucking on it like it was his favorite sweet. It didn't take long at all before
it began to harden and grow on his tongue. It was a heady feeling to know that
he could get his dream man this worked up so quickly which was only made
sweeter by the quiet groans that started the second Stiles' mouth was wrapped
around Derek's cock.
Before long, the dick in his mouth was too long and big to fit into his mouth
completely. With an obscene noise, Stiles pulled off of Derek's dick to admire
the fully hardened length for a moment before he took the tip in again and
suckled on it happily. While one of Stiles' hands was braced against Derek's
jeans-clad knee, the other sneaked upwards to jerk the base of Derek's cock
that Stiles couldn't get into his mouth.
A loud moan made Stiles look up to Derek's stupidly perfect face. Stiles loved
to see his dream guy so open, mouth parted and panting, arousal red on his high
cheekbones, eyes glazed over and pupils blown wide.
"Stiles, your mouth." Derek's voice sounded wrecked and Stiles felt immensely
proud to be the cause.
Warm fingers slid into his hair and held on to the back of his head but didn't
try to control Stiles' rhythm in any way.
With one last lick to the especially sensitive spot just underneath the head of
Derek's cock, Stiles pulled back and whispered in what he hoped was a seductive
tone, "Come on then, Derek. Use it. Use my mouth."
He'd barely finished speaking when the loose grip of those big hands tightened
and his head was being pushed forward. He quickly opened his mouth to
accommodate Derek's glistening length once again and moaned when Derek started
a fast rhythm, pulling Stiles deeper on his cock on every downward motion.
His own dick was hard and leaking into his boxer shorts but Stiles knew that if
he so much as put a hand on himself, it'd be over in an instant. Instead, he
focussed completely on the thick cock fucking his mouth and leaving wet salty
precum on his tongue, glad that in his dream he apparently had no gag reflex.
All the while, Stiles kept his half-lidded eyes on Derek's face, even more
gorgeous flushed red with arousal. He found it insanely hot how Derek couldn't
help but watch his own cock disappear between Stiles' wet lips again and again.
He felt his dream guy getting closer when Derek's rhythm started to get a
little frantic and the heavy length became even bigger in his mouth. With just
enough force to counter Derek's pushing and pulling, Stiles lifted his head
enough to let Derek's cock slip out. He nuzzled his face along the sizable
dick, smearing trails of precum on his cheeks and lips in the process.
With pleading eyes, he begged in a throaty voice, "Your knot, Derek. Want it,
want your knot."
He watched, mesmerized, as Derek's eyes rolled back into his head with a deep
groan before the man had himself under control again enough to grind out, "No."
Naturally, Stiles didn't just roll over and accept a simple no. Instead, he
broke out his secret weapon once again, begging. "Please, Derek, please! Want
to feel your knot stretch my mouth so bad."
Derek all but growled and shoved his cock in between Stiles' lax lips, setting
a quick relentless pace as he fucked Stiles' face once more. Stiles complied
willingly and welcomed the hot length being pushed down his throat mercilessly.
God, how he loved it! Sucking Derek's dick or rather a face-fuck by Derek's
dick was just as hot as he'd imagined.
Moments later, Stiles felt again how Derek neared the edge, cock growing
heavier once again. He gave it everything, swallowing around the length and
therefore making his throat as tight as possible to drive the man completely
wild and get him to knot his mouth.
With an animalistic howl, Derek finally came, shooting come down his throat.
The first taste of Derek's come was all it took for Stiles to orgasm as well.
He moaned around Derek's still spurting cock, swallowing everything the man
gave him, only vaguely disappointed that no knotting had happened. It was hard
to muster the necessary indignation when he was still floating on a high from
his climax and was still enjoying the feeling of Derek engulfed in his well-
used mouth.
When Derek pulled out, Stiles couldn't help but whine at the loss. However, his
complaining noises were swallowed by Derek's hungry mouth who'd quickly heaved
Stiles up and maneuvered him onto his lap. Stiles gave as good as he got,
sharing Derek's taste and biting his lover's lips in retaliation for
withholding his knot.
"You are... incorrigible, baby," Derek mumbled between kisses.
Stiles just smirked against Derek's lips. "You wouldn't have me any other way."
With a somewhat resigned sigh, the man grumbled, "No, I really wouldn't."
Stiles' heart fluttered at the agreement and after one last lingering kiss, he
burrowed his head into Derek's neck, breathing the man's scent of sweat and
wood in deep. The hand on Stiles' lower back held him close to the bigger body
in front of him while the other hand was still on the back of his head, lazily
carding through his short hair.
"That still doesn't change the fact that we need to..."
"No!," Stiles butted in, not giving Derek the chance to finish his sentence.
"No, please, Derek. Not tonight." With big pleading eyes, he looked up from
where his head rested on a broad shoulder, hoping to convince Derek not to
spoil this perfect moment and to just let them have this. He didn't want this
night to end like the last and feel even more lonely the next day than usually.
The hesitation was clear in Derek's eyes but after a couple of seconds he
simply nodded, pressing Stiles' head into his neck once more. Stiles guessed
this was Derek's way of wordlessly telling him that he would grant Stiles' wish
even though he was less than delighted with it. Stiles was well aware that it
was bought time and that the inevitable was only postponed, not impeded.
Anyways, as long as he could end this night in peace and snuggled up to Derek's
warm body, he knew he'd be okay enough for another day without this closeness
in the waking world. 
Chapter End Notes
     Naturally, I'd love to hear your thoughts. ;)
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     So, here's Derek's POV as promised. It's a bit longer than the other
     parts, maybe because there's talking at long last. ;) Hope you like
     it!
     Betaed by el-gilliath again. Thanks a lot!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
To say that Derek was pissed at himself would be an understatement. Again, he'd
caved in to Stiles' aversion to talk. One look at Stiles' big round hazel eyes
and his pleading had been enough to coerce Derek to forget all about his long-
term goal, to say nothing of the spectacular blow job.
Derek could well and truly admit that he turned into a big hand-tame puppy when
it came to his mate - and his talented mouth in particular. The only thing the
boy hadn't gotten was his knot that he'd begged for so prettily, mostly because
Derek was still a little anxious that Stiles would be disgusted upon seeing the
ball-shaped base of his dick that had tied them together several times already.
It was most likely an irrational fear, considering the gusto with which Stiles
had taken to Derek's knot in the first place. It was actually more likely that
Stiles would be salivating over it once he got to have a glance at it. But
still, Derek couldn't just turn his worries off. He'd never said he was the
most rational of beings.
In the end, Derek spent the whole next day brooding quietly in a corner of
Stiles' room, waiting for his mate's return from school. The sheriff hadn't
been happy with Derek the day before after finding his horrid sandals in pieces
so Derek had decided to lay low. Considering his mate's significantly better
mood as compared to yesterday Derek didn't need to bring the big guns out to
make Stiles smile. Instead, Derek could plan the whole day how best to convince
his mate of the importance of getting to know each other to make Stiles see
that Derek was good for something besides fucking - even if the fucking was
pretty extraordinary.
When Stiles finally came home Derek had some kind of plan that he couldn't wait
to set in motion when they were asleep.
Hours later, after playing tag with the boy and watching his mate go about his
day, the time had come.
Derek had dreamed them on the rock shoulder in the woods overlooking all of
Beacon Hills that he liked to frequent both in human and in wolf form, usually
to ponder. Stiles was sitting between his legs, both of them facing the town
below them. Derek's arms surrounded his mate, his chin resting on Stiles'
shoulder.
"Hi Derek," Stiles said quietly and somewhat apprehensively. The smaller body
tensed a bit in Derek's embrace upon truly realizing their situation.
Apparently, Stiles had an inkling that tonight he wouldn't get the easy way
out.
"You don't need to say a single word if you don't want to," Derek told the
fraught boy in a low voice. "Just listen please, Stiles."
A few seconds ticked by before Stiles nodded curtly, body relaxing ever so
slightly.
Derek took a deep breath, glad that his plan appeared to be working. Well, at
least so far. He hoped that getting his mate to listen would turn out to be the
hardest part. However, he was well aware that getting Stiles to believe in what
Derek was about to tell him would be the real problem.
"At the beginning of all living things on earth, there was the maker's will to
create two beings that complimented each other as perfectly as two of his
former creations, the sun and the moon. This is how a being neither completely
human nor completely animal came to be. The first two in creation were as
devoted to each other as one can be and together they roamed and ruled the
world. The maker was pleased that his two children were so very perfect for one
another. However, he soon noticed that their dedication to each other made them
blind to everything around them. Instead of flourishing and reproducing, plants
and animals began to wither and die because those chosen to nourish and care
for them were too occupied with one another. That caused the maker's wrath and
in anger he decided to separate the two lovers never to be united again.
However, the sun and the moon had taken to the two beings that had been
designed after their image and pleaded with the maker to show mercy because
while they could see the destruction the lovers' neglect had brought upon the
earth they hadn't done it on purpose. Fortunately, the maker's wrath could be
appeased. He still decided to separate them but this time with the possibility
of the lovers finding each other again. By creating more beings, some human,
some like the first two combining human and animal traits, he made the lovers'
search for one another harder. The maker, as almighty as he is, is not cruel
however. He was well aware of the fact that not all beings who complement each
other, who are made for each other, would find one another in their lifetime.
Therefore, he created those who share certain aspects and traits of those
destined for another, making these beings possible partners albeit not perfect
ones. A union of two beings that truly belong to one another is said to be rare
but a matter of great joy. They have the most powerful of connections, a bond
so deep it is as strong as the one from the first two, the purest, in
existence."
Derek paused to think about how he wanted to tell Stiles the rest when his mate
surprised him by inquiring, "So, by a being that combines human and animal
traits, you mean, like, werewolves or what?"
Inhaling sharply at the unexpected question and trying to control his
frantically beating heart, Derek berated himself for forgetting how quick-
witted and smart his mate was. "Basically, yes," he replied after a beat.
"Werewolves but also other werecreatures."
Stiles hummed, seemingly deep in thought.
Derek waited, giving his mate the time he needed to absorb what Derek had
bestowed on him so far.
"Okay, so, werecreatures," Stiles mumbled after a while before visibly perking
up when an idea struck him. "Oh, hey! Can they shift shapes? Like, from human
to furry beast in the blink of an eye or something?"
Derek sighed a little at his mate's description. "Yes, they can shift shapes."
"By will or only at the full moon?" Stiles continued his bombardment of
questions, his interest obviously piqued.
"By will," Derek grumbled, a little miffed about his mate's diversion from the
actual topic. While discussing shape shifters and werewolves in particular was
important, at the moment it was more essential that Stiles got the whole
soulmate bonding concept and understood that they were meant to be. The rest,
namely Stiles' acceptance of Derek's nature, would come with that particular
realization, or so Derek hoped at least.
"Is that all you gathered from what I told you?" Derek asked as calmly as
possible.
"Uhm, no," Stiles answered hesitantly. "You were talking about the maker, the
sun and the moon and the maker's creations on earth."
Again, Derek heaved a sigh at hearing Stiles' rather shallow summary. "And
about how two beings complement each other and can form a strong bond, a deep
connection."
Derek watched as Stiles' head, still turned towards Beacon Hills, nodded. "Like
soulmates."
A buzz went through Derek and before he could stop himself he half-shouted,
"Exactly!"
At Derek's enthusiastic response, Stiles threw a questioning glance over his
shoulder at a grinning Derek. "Right," he said slowly, his expression clearly
indicating that he thought that Derek had probably lost his marbles. After a
couple more seconds of scrutinizing Derek, Stiles turned around again and leant
back against Derek's chest. "So, how does this whole soulmate thing work
exactly? I mean how do you know you've found the one and not just one of the
others that are okay but not really your soulmate?"
Finally, Stiles asked the right questions, Derek thought giddily. "As a
werecreature you feel it. You just know."
"And as a human?"
Now came the more complicated part. "It's more difficult for a human to be sure
because they lack the instincts of a shape shifter. If a human finds his
soulmate in another human, they're usually pretty certain that they want to
spend the rest of their lives together because they feel the connection on some
basic level. If a human, however, meets one of the others that are suitable but
not their soulmate they will always doubt their relationship and wonder if
there isn't someone else out there who is more suited to them. They can lead a
happy life together but the doubts will remain, if only subconsciously."
Stiles nodded again. "What if the human's soulmate is a shape shifter?"
And finally they've arrived at the really interesting part, the one that Derek
couldn't screw up under any circumstances. Sorting his thoughts one last time,
he launched into what probably counted as the most important explanation Derek
ever had to give in his entire life. "A soulbond with a werecreature is deeper
than one between two humans. The werecreature's supernatural nature and
abilities span the gap if their soulmate is human and doesn't possess the same
abilities to form a deep connection. The human is then able to feel the bond as
strongly and consciously as their soulmate."
Stiles hummed contemplatively. "What if you end up stuck with someone you can't
stand? If nature or the maker or fate or whatever are just some big assholes
who like to screw you over?"
Derek snorted, involuntarily amused at how Stiles put it. "Trust me, that never
happens. Remember the part where soulmates compliment each other, are perfect
for one another?"
"Yeah," Stiles conceded.
On the spur of the moment, Derek decided to tell Stiles something personal
rather than stay with probably too abstract concepts. "My parents are
soulmates. They knew they were even before they really got to know each other.
They fell in love with each other in the week after their first meeting and
have had eyes only for one another since then. They love each other
unconditionally. They're the happiest people I know."
Derek took a steadying breath, steeling himself to finally admit, "I want that,
too."
A deep sigh was all that left Stiles' lips and Derek was about to call it a
night, a little glum after spilling his guts before Stiles was apparently ready
for it when the boy in his arms mumbled thoughtfully in a quiet tone, "It must
be nice to be certain that the person you're with is the one for you."
It was like being struck by lightening, only in a positive sort of way, when
Derek heard Stiles' silent concession. It made his body tingle to think that
Stiles was maybe more open to the soulmate-for-life idea than Derek had dared
to hope. If Derek wasn't totally mistaken it would seem as if his mate wasn't
scared of the thought of being with one person for the rest of his life despite
his young age. In Derek's book, this counted as a huge step forward regarding
his plan to woo his mate. Hopefully, he'd get Stiles to like or even love Derek
enough to realize that Derek was the one he wanted to spend his life with.
"Why are you telling me all this, Derek?"
Derek could hear the wariness in Stiles' voice and knew he had to tread
carefully. "My mom used to tell me about the maker and soulmates when I was
little. It's being passed on from generation to generation, she said. It was my
favorite tale as a kid." The next words left his mouth before he could reign
himself in, "But it's much more than just a tale."
Naturally, his curious mate couldn't leave it at that. Turning around to face
Derek, he asked with a confused expression, "What do you mean?"
Derek wanted to hit himself on the head, hard. Why couldn't he have just bitten
his tongue to not blurt out that last incredibly important bit? The one that he
wanted to save for somewhen further down the line when Stiles would be ready
for it?
Trying to come up with something that wouldn't totally scare his mate away, he
settled on, "It's personal on more than one level. It's my parents' story. It's
our story," he finished in a small voice and watched with a sinking heart as
Stiles' eyes grew wide in disbelief.
"No!" Stiles countered vehemently, turning around completely and twisting out
of Derek's embrace in the process. His arms flailed about widely. "This is just
a dream, nothing more. There is no such thing as werewolves or shape shifters
and soulmates in real life."
"Stiles, please calm down," Derek tried to placate his agitated mate, not quite
sure why the boy reacted so strongly to Derek's last words.
Stiles, however, ignored Derek's attempt at appeasing completely and went on as
if he'd never been interrupted, "You don't get to dangle this in front of my
eyes. Nuh-uh, Mister. It's not nice to tell poor naive Stiles tales that he
really wants to believe in..."
"But...," Derek butted in, his heart soaring at this opening that Stiles
practically threw his way. He didn't get more in than that, though, because
again Stiles decided to overlook Derek in favor of continuing his own rant.
"Because, seriously, I think it would be kinda awesome if there were, like, all
these things you've told me about. Even though from what I've heard shape
shifters are probably pretty dangerous what with the claws and sharp teeth and
whatnot and maybe even like to maim and kill virgins. But that aside, 'cause,
no shit, there are enough humans who like to maim and kill, you don't get to
plant these fantastical theories and stories in my head and expect me to..."
Derek never heard what he should not expect from Stiles as in this moment his
mate lost his balance from his excessive movements and toppled over the ledge.
Derek surged forward to grab him but it was already too late and he was left
watching in horror as Stiles fell further and further down towards the ground.
Stiles' sharp scream pierced Derek's ears and was also the first thing he
perceived when he woke up an instant later.
It was less than two seconds later that Stiles came to as well and his shouting
stopped, heartbeat frantic and panicked after the horrific and rapid ending of
their shared dream.
Derek whined and nuzzled his distressed mate's shoulder and chest, quietly
pleading for forgiveness the best he could in his current state.
It didn't take long for Stiles to calm down and after a couple controlled
breaths he noticed Derek's, his dog's, efforts. "It's okay, buddy. Just a bad
dream," he mumbled shakingly, fingers buried in Derek's fur at his nape,
staring into space.
It took Derek all he got not to wince at that, to turn human and apologize to
his mate profoundly for going too far too soon. After all his carful planning
the whole day, he had to admit that he'd screwed this up after all. Despite his
plan seemingly working out well at the beginning, he'd kind of missed the point
where he went a little overboard and overwhelmed his mate by his rash
proceeding. He just hoped that he hadn't rendered all the progress they'd made
tonight void by overshooting.
In the end, Stiles had admitted that he'd like to believe in what Derek had
told him but just couldn't. All Derek had to do now was to make Stiles believe
and concurrently convince him of Derek's superb qualities as his soulmate.
Piece of cake, right?
Chapter End Notes
     As always, I'd love to hear your opinion. :)
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     Finally, chapter 5. I'm not gonna spoil it by saying anything. Hope
     you guys like it. :)
     Once more betaed by el-gilliath. Thanks, hon!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
After his dream ended in an unintended dive from the ledge of a rock shoulder
and him waking up screaming like a little girl, Stiles didn't want to go back
to sleep. It was almost time to get up anyway.
He cuddled with his dog who happened to be the best non-pharmaceutical
tranquilizer and mood elevator in one while waiting for his alarm to bid the
new day a blaring welcome. When the much hated sound finally came he quickly
got up and got ready for school which included both breakfast for him and his
dog. His father was at work already.
The whole time, his dog was at his heels, butting his calves and whining for
his attention. His canine friend obviously noticed that something wasn't quite
right.
Stiles bent down and framed his dogs sad looking face in his hands. "When I'm
back from school we'll have a nice long cuddling session, you and me, whaddaya
say, buddy?"
His dog woofed once with what Stiles could only call a solemn face if that was
even possible for an animal. It made Stiles chuckle nonetheless to think of his
dog expressing human emotions. "You're the best dog ever, dude," he said and
threw his arms around his dog's neck to squeeze him tight. For a moment, he was
overwhelmed with the rush of warmth, adoration and gratefulness he felt for
this animal for picking up on his moods so easily and always trying to make
things better. It was kind of bizarre, actually, how attuned his dog was to
Stiles, but hey, he sure as hell wasn't going to complain.
"Love you," Stiles spoke softly into his dog's soft fur and gave him a peck
just above his wet nose before he patted his flank one last time and got back
up. "See you later, buddy!"
With that, he was out the door and out of the house only a few seconds later.
It was when he had time to think about last night's dream - on the drive to
school, during Chemistry while ignoring Harris' dirty looks - that the unease
and shakiness his dog had succeeded to dispel for a little while crept back in.
He figured that maybe it'd help to talk about it to someone. Said someone
would, of course, be Scott who dumped enough crap about Allison and her utter
perfection on Stiles on a daily basis to warrant years of Stiles' problems
being unloaded on his dark-haired best friend.
For this reason, Stiles felt totally justified when he broke in on Scott's
puppy lovey-dovey swooning over Allison's feet or something else equally
ridiculous on their way to their lockers during lunch break and blurted, "I
think I might have a teeny-weeny crush on a guy I keep dreaming about."
Instead of stopping right in the middle of the corridor as Stiles had
anticipated, Scott just kept on walking. "So?" He asked as if Stiles hadn't
just poured his heart out to him.
"So?" Stiles mimicked, more than just a little shell-shocked about Scott's
unfazed reaction. "So? Was it the fact that it's a guy or the fact that it's a
guy I dream about that didn't surprise you?"
The smirk on Scott's face made Stiles even more furious. "I was always
wondering about your preference when you kept asking Danny if he found you
attractive. And, well, you've had your head somewhere else for quite awhile
now. Just last week I caught you doodling little Dereks all over your notepad.
Guess that's the guy you dream about?"
Okay, so, Stiles' eyes that were currently busy trying to pop out of their
sockets were probably a pretty valid testament as to how much Scott had just
blown his mind. Seriously, the guy was as dense as a rainforest most of the
time. How come he'd noticed this?
Still flabbergasted, Stiles simply murmured, "Um, yeah."
They stopped at their lockers and while Scott busied himself with putting books
in and getting the ones they needed for their next class out he said, "So, just
try to find out if he likes you, too. You're the king of stealth, bro, if you
keep your mouth shut." Scott winked. "Oh, who is this guy, actually? Do I know
him? Maybe I can help you ask around and stuff."
And there was the crux of the matter, the thing that Scott apparently hadn't
caught. "I don't know him."
Finally, Scott turned towards him with his patented confused expression that
Stiles had waited for earlier already. "Huh?"
Stiles sighed. "I don't know a guy named Derek. I've never seen the dude
outside of my dreams."
Scott's ridiculously puzzled expression was one that usually got Stiles to
crack up. Not today. "Hang on. So, you're telling me you're crushing on a guy
your mind's made up?"
"Brilliant deduction, Watson," Stiles said with a snort. So, maybe he'd given
Scott too much credit earlier for 'getting it' when his friend hadn't really
gotten it until now when Stiles had spelled it out for him.
"Huh," Scott uttered with his usual lack of eloquence. "That changes things."
"No shit, dude." Stiles sighed again, leaning back against his once again
closed locker. "He's just... he's kinda perfect. Hottest bod ever and he knows
how to use it if you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows.
"Urgh, dude, keep your wet dreams to yourself," Scott moaned.
Stiles couldn't help but laugh at his best friend's scrunched up face, feeling
a little lighter. "Only if you shut up about yours and Allison's bed
activities," he countered.
"Fine," Scott grumbled. "So, back to your loverboy." Scott paused, obviously to
sort his thoughts. Stiles, good friend that he was, gave him all the time he
needed. "So, you only like him for his looks and his qualities in bed or what?"
"No," Stiles immediately replied before amending, "well, no, I don't think so.
He's kind of cute. Always insists on talking to get to know each other. The
things he tells me, Scott, they're crazy. It's kind of freaking me out to think
that my mind made all that up, that my subconscious might wish for the shit he
tells me to be real."
'For Derek to be real,' he ended in his thoughts rather wistfully.
For a couple long seconds, they both said nothing. Then, Scott spoke with
renewed enthusiasm, "Okay, know what I think?"
"No, I've no idea what goes on underneath that unruly mob of hair of yours
besides Allison here, Allison there," Stiles grinned.
Scott rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Stiles. Anyway, I think you need a
distraction in the form of a night of Halo with your best friend."
Scott's smile was dazzling and pretty convincing from Stiles' point of view.
"Yeah, sounds good," he agreed readily, hoping that it really would distract
him from this Derek-shaped hole he felt every time he was awake.
"Awesome. Eight at your place. We'll order pizza," Scott planned, closing his
locker and starting towards the cafeteria.
"I'm so gonna kick your ass," Stiles promised.
Scott snorted. "You wish."
Derek was basking in all the attention Stiles bestowed on him, loving every
second of their cuddling session that Stiles had promised that morning, when
his mate's mobile rang. He wanted to rip the thing to shreds for interrupting
their peaceful afternoon with lots of stroking and petting on Stiles' part and
licking and nuzzling on Derek's but settled on growling at the obnoxious
device. Stiles wouldn't be pleased if his mobile would end up in pieces due to
the combination of Derek's quick temper and sharp teeth. Therefore, he
grudgingly accepted it when Stiles broke away from him with a groan and
answered the call with a not really pleased sounding, "Hello?"
"Hey, Stiles," Derek heard Scott say in a cheerful tone on the other end of the
line.
"Hey, bro. What's up?" Stiles asked in a slightly better mood than when he
picked up. Derek was well aware that Scott was Stiles' best friend and while he
knew that the guy had a girlfriend - her smell was all over the boy - he
couldn't quite suppress the jealousy that coursed through him. Maybe it was
because of their easy banter, the way they were so open around each other, a
sign of their long-standing deep friendship, that rubbed Derek the wrong way.
He wanted to be the one Stiles could act around like that.
Derek could admit that where Stiles was concerned he turned into a possessive
bastard. Both for Stiles' and his own good, he promised himself, though, to
dial it down. Friends were important and what Scott and probably Allison as
well were for Stiles, were Boyd, Erica and Isaac for Derek. He sure as hell
didn't want to cut them out of his life when Stiles and he were properly mated.
If they mated at all, that is, which was completely up to the boy sitting next
to Derek on the edge of the bed. Still, if and when they were mated Stiles
would always come first, even before family.
"Well, Allison...," Scott started but was interrupted by Stiles before he could
even finish his first sentence.
"Don't tell me you're bailing on me for some Allison quality time, dude!"
Huh, Derek hadn't known that Stiles had plans with Scott. He'd actually thought
they'd have the evening to themselves with more cuddling and sniffing.
"Dude, chill! I'm not bailing on you. Just wanted to make a suggestion," Scott
amended.
"Uhu. And what's that?" Stiles asked warily and with narrow eyes.
"Well," Scott started and Derek could practically hear him fidget on the other
side of the line, "look, there's this party Allison wants to go to tonight. And
she's asked me to come, of course, but I didn't want to bail on my best friend
so I thought, hey, what better to distract you from your crush on some guy your
mind's made up than going to a party and getting to know other people, real
people to crush on."
For a second there, Derek forgot how to breathe. Stiles had a crush on him? On
human him? That was better news than he could've wished for. His tail wagged
excitedly. Maybe the rest wouldn't be so difficult then, practically with one
foot in the door already.
"I don't know, Scott. I don't really feel up for a party tonight," Stiles
answered reluctantly, reminding Derek that there was still the matter of
Stiles' plans for the evening. He fervently hoped his mate would opt for
staying in with him and not meet up with possible rivals for Stiles' affection.
"Oh, come on, dude! It'll be great!" When Stiles still didn't budge Scott
whined, "Dude, seriously! You have to come. There's hot people in flimsy
clothing and a pool and free booze. How can you possibly say no?"
Even if he couldn't see them, Derek knew that Scott was making what Stiles
referred to as his puppy dog eyes that never failed to sway his mate.
Apparently, they worked on the phone as well since Stiles sighed the sigh of
the defeated and said, "Okay, fine. I'll come."
If Derek had opposable thumbs at the moment, he'd march over to Scott's and
strangle the idiot. A party! His mate was going to a party with lots of horny
teenagers! Everything was possible. Other people would hit on his delectable
mate. Stiles might even find someone else there, someone 'real' as opposed to
'only existing in his dreams' as Stiles had probably labeled him.
No fucking way! He was not going to let that happen, let his mate slip through
his fingers so close to the finish line if he could help it.
Growling and pacing on the bed, he listened to Stiles and Scott wrapping up
their conversation with plans of Stiles picking Scott up at nine with his Jeep
and then going over to wherever this stupid party was supposed to go down.
As soon as Stiles had hung up, he turned around to face Derek and placed a hand
on his head, scratching the fur between his ears soothingly. Immediately, Derek
stopped with the agitated noises. Instead, he slumped forward on Stiles' lap
and enjoyed the feeling of the human's fingers on the particularly sensitive
spot. Damn, his mate already knew all his weak spots!
"That's better, boy," Stiles mumbled as he continued to treat Derek to blissful
scratching and stroking. "Don't be mad at me that I'm leaving you to yourself
on a Friday night. Blame Scott. Hell yeah, save that pissed off attitude for
the next time he's over and then do your growling and teeth flashing. I love it
when you get him to nearly piss his pants with your menacing glare, you big bad
dog, you." Stiles cackled.
Derek didn't think he was that bad. Stiles was obviously exaggerating
massively. Still, Derek couldn't deny that the worry and fear and jealousy of
someone his mate might or might not meet tonight gnawed away at him. That
particular combination never worked well for a werewolf's composure, so keeping
the fangs and claws away might become a problem if stoked further.
In need of scenting his mate, Derek pushed his face against Stiles' neck,
rubbing it along the bitable tendons on both sides and mingling their scents.
It calmed him, to smell himself on the boy and in return absorb some of Stiles'
scent. It helped him to think more clearly about how to handle the situation.
There were several possible courses of action which he had to contemplate.
Option one: sit back and hope that nothing happened. Option two: keep an eye on
his mate and intervene only if the circumstances called for it. Option three:
get Stiles to stay at home somehow. Option four: change and reveal everything
and hope for the best.
He was still deep in thought with his muzzle burrowed into Stiles' armpit,
drinking in his mate's intoxicating scent, when Stiles shoved him away gently
and said, "How about we go for a walk, huh, buddy? You're getting fat, sitting
on your lazy ass all day."
Derek huffed indignantly but jumped off the bed without a lot of fuss. He could
go for a walk. He'd show Stiles how very fit and not fat he was. And while they
were out he'd think some more about the situation and what he'd do.
With a look over his shoulder and an inviting 'Woof!', Derek gingerly picked up
the lacrosse ball on the floor with his teeth, pawed the ajar door open and
walked out. He heard Stiles laugh before the human's steps followed him down
the stairs.
"Oh, you're on, Mister," Stiles hollered when they stumbled outside and Derek
darted off immediately.
Derek would have grinned if he'd had the right body for it. Maybe he could wear
Stiles out with all the running and playing fetch so that he'd be too tired to
go to that freakin' party. With this thought in mind, he picked up pace as he
dashed down the road towards the woods, praying he wouldn't tire before his
hyperactive mate.
Chapter End Notes
     Feedback is always appreciated. ;)
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     Again betaed by el-gilliath. Thanks a bunch!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Naturally, Stiles hadn't tired as much as Derek had hoped from their antics in
the Preserve to not go to the party. However, their little stroll had given
Derek plenty of time to think his options through thoroughly. He had come to
the conclusion to follow Stiles to the party in his wolf form to stand watch
over him from the sidelines.
That was basically how he found himself hiding in the shadow of bushes just
outside the property on, which the party was held, staring through the fence
and gauging people's level of threat to Stiles. His mate was currently inside,
talking to Scott and Allison and some other people that Derek didn't recognize.
It made Derek twitchy that he couldn't see Stiles and the others surrounding
him.
It was about twenty minutes after his arrival that he got a whiff of a well-
known scent. One of his family members had just entered the stage. Derek
sniffed in concentration as the scent drew closer. Cora. Of course. She was the
same age as Stiles, seventeen, and Derek guessed that probably everyone in
their year had been invited to this stupid party.
It didn't take long for Cora to notice him as well and to sneak away from the
group of people she'd arrived with to slip through the iron gate in the fence
only a few feet away from Derek's hiding spot.
"Derek. Didn't know you were invited," she greeted cheekily, well aware that
Derek was, indeed, not invited. He didn't know anyone here apart from Stiles
and his two friends and they only knew him as Stiles' dog so no, no one had
written him an invitation or asked him to come.
When he didn't change back to get in on their usual banter but remained in his
wolf form, she grumbled with furrowed brows, "Mom and dad are alternatively
gushing about how happy they are that you've found your mate and whining about
how they haven't seen you in weeks. It's annoying."
Had Derek been in his human form, he'd have smiled. It was good to hear that
his family missed him as much as he missed them. While Cora didn't admit it out
loud, Derek knew his sister was happy for him and had missed him as well. On
the outside, she was as prickly as a cactus but on the inside, she was easily
one of the most caring and loving people that Derek knew.
He wanted to give her a hug, scent her and be scented by her. She didn't smell
much like him anymore and he didn't carry the scent of his pack, his family
with him after weeks of living in the Stilinski household. He could tell she
itched to touch and hug Derek as well, human Derek especially, maybe knock with
her knuckles on his head like she was so fond of doing. Still, with thoughts of
Stiles in his head, he only woofed softly.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Derek! Change back and tell me what a spoiled brat and a
pain in the ass I am!" Cora whisper-shouted, enraged.
Derek felt only slightly bad for denying his younger sister her wish to have
some time with her brother face to face. Sure, he could just turn, have a quick
chat with her and change right back but he didn't. As a human, his senses
weren't quite as refined, as sharp, as in his wolf form and he was currently
too far away from Stiles who was still inside, his scent and voice muffled by
the walls separating them, to pick up on stuff going on around his mate. By way
of apology, Derek nudged Cora's calf with his snout, hoping she'd understand.
Naturally, she didn't or maybe she did but still had to be a brat about it.
With narrowed eyes and a calculating look, she said, "He's here, isn't he? I
bet I could even pick him out from the crowd. Knowing you, your scent's all
over him. Come to think of it, I guess I already know who it is. It's the
Stilinski boy, isn't it? I smelled you on him at school. Maybe I should go over
to him and see if I can't get him interested in another Hale."
In the blink of an eye, Derek had turned and grabbed her by the shoulders. Eyes
glowing threateningly, he snarled, "Don't you dare. He's mine."
Cora just rolled her eyes, seemingly unimpressed by her brother's rather fierce
reaction. "Jeez, Derek, relax. I'm not interested in your little mate. I just
wanted to rile you up so you'd turn. Apparently, I succeeded." She smiled
smugly.
Derek let go of her as if burned. Damn it! He'd been played by his little
sister. And while that was frustrating enough what was worse was the fact that
he had no clue where Stiles was and who he was with and what the hell was
happening. His senses were too muted.
Cora's sigh pulled him out of his increasingly more worried thoughts. "Boy,
will your mate have fun with your possessive ass."
Disgruntled, Derek shoved her before getting ready to change back.
"Oh no, you don't, Mister," Cora said and for a second Derek's mind flashed
back to Stiles calling him that only a couple hours earlier, which was
apparently long enough for his sister to go on with her tirade. "I know you're
here to keep an eye on your mate because you're worried and you're a jealous
fucker. But I won't let you do it with your furry ass standing at the gate
hidden in the bushes like some creepy old dude. You're coming with me. As
Derek, my brother."
Derek's eyes widened. He'd entertained the thought of going to the party as a
human when considering all his options that afternoon but had discarded it
quickly, deeming it too big a risk to take. "I can't, Cora. He can't see me. He
doesn't know yet. He wouldn't understand and I'd just scare him off."
Cora watched him with a thoughtful expression. At least she seemed to
understand what he was getting at, that for Stiles to know what Derek looked
like without having seen him in reality meant a pretty strong and stable mental
connection already. She had heard the stories of werewolves losing their mates
by overwhelming them, too, so she had to be able to relate to Derek's
situation.
Still, what came out of her mouth was, "You're going. There are enough people
and niches to hide in. Your precious mate won't spot you. It'll do you good to
stand on two legs again for a while after walking around on paws for so long."
Derek was still shaking his head. "I can't risk it, Cora. I can't lose him
because of a foolish mistake that could've been avoided."
"Derek, you're not going to lose him," Cora said, putting a soothing hand on
his upper arm. She didn't often show her serious, caring side but when she did
it always made people listen. She might not be the next Alpha in their family
but she was also not your average beta. She was someone others deferred to if
her wishes didn't happen to coincide with the Alpha's. "I'll be with you the
whole time if you want me to. We won't go near him. You'll be far enough away
that he wouldn't be able to recognize you if he looked straight at you."
Still skeptical, Derek contemplated his sister's words.
"How often have you changed over the last couple of weeks?"
Derek looked away, which was answer in and of itself.
"You know that we have to change regularly, that it's unhealthy to stay in one
form for too long. You'll start to forget how to be human if you are a wolf all
the time," Cora went on, telling Derek what he already knew. Their parents had
told them often enough how horrible it could end if you denied your body one of
its forms for an extended period of time. Despite being aware of the
consequences, Derek had only changed back a few times to go searching around
Stiles' room back in the beginning. Afterwards, he just hadn't felt the need to
turn and had been comfortable wearing fur all the time. Plus, it limited the
risk of Stiles catching him off-guard, naked and sniffing Stiles' clothes or
something.
"I'm worried, Derek," Cora said with a concerned expression. "I don't want to
have to watch you lose yourself in the process of winning your mate over. I
want to see you happy and healthy and able to enjoy your future with your
mate."
Stiles chose that moment to emerge from the house. Immediately, the tension in
Derek's shoulders that he hadn't even been aware of consciously lessened.
His sister's serious words still rang in his ears, though, and without further
ado, he nodded sharply.
"Is that a yes? You'll go?" Cora asked, probably just to be the pain in the ass
that she knew she was.
"Yeah," Derek grumbled and stumbled a step backwards an instant later when his
sister's body slammed into him.
"Awesome!" She half-shouted. "We could've gotten to that point much earlier,
you know. You could've just agreed the first time 'round."
Derek rolled his eyes in equal parts fondness and exasperation. Cora's serious
mood hadn't held long, just long enough for her to get her will. For a second,
Derek thought that it should worry him more how well she could manipulate him
but in the end he had to agree that she had a point. Standing on two legs for a
couple of hours would do him good.
Tightening his arms around her, he said softly, "It's good to see you, Cora."
He rubbed his cheek along hers with closed eyes, scenting her. Derek's
nakedness didn't bother either of them. Being werewolves meant not having any
problems with nudity and getting into each other's space naked.
"Yeah, it's okay to see you, too, you big ol' wuss," Cora retorted with an
audible grin. She scratched the sensitive spot behind his ear that Derek
wouldn't admit to favor under the threat of death and breathed, "I missed you."
"Missed you and the others, too," Derek answered. He swayed with her softly,
enjoying the beat of her heart so close to his, before she entangled herself
from his embrace. Derek was reluctant to let her go but Stiles' laughter
reminded him that he had other things to tend to.
Cora cleared her throat. "This never happened," Cora said, her eyes flashing
briefly, before her mood swung to mischievous once again. "Now, time for mate
sitting."
"I don't have clothes," Derek remembered. Nothing to wear meant no going to a
party, unless you were an exhibitionist and Derek guessed that at least then,
you'd show up in a coat or something and open it only once you knew you had
people's attention. Not that he was an exhibitionist. Well, he had no qualms
about walking around naked around his family but that was different.
"I'll stay here, human, and only change back when Stiles goes home," he said,
hoping she'd be content with his solution. It'd still be risky but much less so
than walking around in the open where Stiles could see him.
Spotting her raised eyebrows, he cursed himself for not having anticipated his
sister's quick whit and her stubbornness, traits inherited by all Hales
unfortunately.
"Wait here. I'll get you some clothes," she said, about to head off.
Derek grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "From where? I haven't stashed any close
by."
"From inside, duh," Cora replied with an eye roll.
Derek shook his head. "We're not thieves, Cora."
"It's a party, Derek. Stuff gets broken and stolen at parties. It's in the
definition," Cora said slowly as if explaining something basic like why you
couldn't transform into a wolf in front of humans to a werewolf pup or why
cutlery wasn't your enemy but your friend to children of any species capable of
conscious thoughts and speech.
Again, Derek shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "No."
Cora threw her hands in the air in obvious exasperation. "Fine, you big baby.
I'll return them afterwards. Anonymously." Her expression told him that another
'no' would end in her strangling or scratching or torturing Derek in some other
way.
Something that was best to be avoided.
Derek nodded curtly.
With a mumbled, "Thank God," she disappeared only to return a few short minutes
later with a bundle of dark clothes on her arm.
Derek sniffed. Good. Cora had picked clothes that obviously weren't worn often
since they smelled only very faintly of their owner. He'd, of course, refused
them if the scent had been stronger. Clothes sharing or borrowing was sort of
an intimate matter for werewolves and simply not casually done. Only mates and
in some cases family members or close packmates were comfortable enough to
share clothing.
So, for Derek to agree to wear some stranger's clothes was a huge exception,
even if they smelled close to new, that he only made to watch over his intended
mate. And to avoid the wrath of his younger sister.
"These should fit," she grumbled and thrust them at her brother. "They're in
your favorite non-color, black."
Since Derek didn't deem his sister's snippy side comment worth a reply, he
simply slipped the clothes on, not even bothering to ask whose they were. As
long as they were returned to their righteous owner he was alright with
borrowing them for a short amount of time.
They hung a little too loose for his taste, probably one size bigger than what
he usually wore, but other than that they were okay. He wasn't here to impress
anyone, not even Stiles, because he still planned on observing him from the
distance and not being spotted by his mate.
"I still think that this is a phenomenally bad idea," Derek grumbled, arms
again crossed in front of his chest.
"Relax, big brother. It'll be fine," Cora said, surprisingly emphatic for once
before destroying it with a half-shouted, "Let's go paaartyyy!"
Derek rolled his eyes but followed her, resigned. Maybe she was right and it
really would be fine. They said hope dies last, so sue Derek for allowing
himself to hope that nothing would go wrong for once.
Chapter End Notes
     So, there wasn't really that much going on in this chapter, I know,
     but it's still an important part as it sets the tone of what's to
     come next, the grand finale or the beginning of the end or however
     you want to call it. ;) Despite it being only a prelude, I hope you
     liked it as much as I liked writing it. :)
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     I am so so sorry for letting you guys wait so long. RL was kinda
     crazy lately, what with me graduating, presenting my thesis at a
     conference, moving countries, job hunting, and a death and several
     birthdays in my family.
     Anyways, the wait is over and I finally present to you the longest
     chapter of DALD so far (unbeta'ed at the moment, but that'll change
     soon, hopefully).
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The party was okay, not spectacular, but okay. Lots of drunk people,
obnoxiously loud music, horny teenagers making out in corners or the pool or
just anywhere they wanted to. Practically every teenager's dream.
Stiles, however, didn't really feel like a part of it. He never truly did but
what a little alcohol or Scott could usually remedy didn't work for him
tonight. He'd left Scott inside with Allison and two of her giggling
girlfriends after having to watch them suck face for the past five minutes.
It wasn't that Stiles wasn't happy for Scott for having found someone. If he
had someone, he'd be glued to their side - or mouth - as well. Didn't help him
in his current situation, though, and neither did alcohol because while he'd
had a watered down glass of punch he didn't feel like getting wasted at all.
Not to mention that technically, he was still underage and the son of the
Sheriff, so it was rather unadvisable to show up at home completely plastered.
Plus, there was also the not quite irrelevant little fact that he had to drive
home. So, hands off the alcohol for the rest of the night was Stiles' motto.
He was leaning against a pillar that reminded him of Greek architecture,
letting his eyes roam over the crowd while valiantly trying to ignore the
couple a little to his left that was making sounds not unlike animals devouring
their prey. Stiles found it sounded rather gross.
His gaze finally landed on the girl he's had a crush on since third grade, the
one and only Lydia Martin. She looked fantastic in her dark blue cocktail
dress, red curls flowing freely over her back and shoulders. Not that long ago,
he would have broken into a sweat and his heart would have gone into overdrive
at the sight of her. He couldn't really pinpoint the moment when that had
changed, though if he had to guess, he would have said it might have been
around the time the dreams had started.
And there he was again, back to thinking about the one he was trying to block
from his thoughts, if only for a couple of hours. Damn it.
Stiles was contemplating the merits of another small glass of watery punch
instead of the soda he was having when he saw someone approaching him out of
the corner of his eye. Jackson. Great, a nice talk with asshole Jackson was all
he needed now.
"Hey, Stilinski," Jackson said with an ugly grin on his face that boded ill for
Stiles' general health.
Still, Stiles was nothing if not civilized, at least until someone, usually
Jackson, provoked him enough to forget his good upbringing. "Hey, Jackson."
"Lydia looks especially pretty tonight, don't you think?"
Ah, there was the rub. Jackson had probably caught him appreciate Lydia's
impeccable appearance a minute earlier. Thing was, that while the whole school
knew about Stiles' adoration for her no one was aware that his interest had
shifted to someone else over the last couple of months. Someone just as
unattainable as Lydia. Story of his life.
Stiles shrugged noncommittally. "She's beautiful as always," he settled on
saying in a reserved tone, hoping that his answer both conveyed his romantic
disinterest in Lydia as well as his platonic appreciation for the beauty of
Jackson's girlfriend. Some other day, Stiles would have probably said something
like 'yeah, hot and smart, which is why I'll never understand what she wants
with a dickwad like you' just to rile him up. Today, he didn't feel like it was
worth it to go through the trouble.
When Jackson stepped right into his comfort zone and stabbed his finger into
Stiles' chest with a murderous expression, Stiles figured that he could've used
his more colorful alternative answer. The outcome was still the same.
"Listen, you loser, Lydia is my girlfriend and always will be. You don't even
have an ounce of a chance with her 'cause I'm pretty sure she doesn't even know
you exist. And just to be clear, Stilinski, I don't want you to look at her or
even think of her."
An arm wrapped around Jackson's shoulder and pulled the dickhead a step away
from Stiles. Danny. Thank God for small favors.
"Hey Jackson," Danny said in a cheery tone, smiling brightly, "give him a
break, buddy, hm? Besides, Lydia's looking for you."
Stiles could see that Lydia, in fact, wasn't looking for Jackson. She actually
appeared to have a good time without her asshole of a boyfriend, laughing with
some of her friends.
Jackson, however, didn't seem to notice. He never was the brightest crayon in
the box. After glowering at Stiles one last time, he went over to Lydia and
pulled her in his arms from behind. Stiles saw her role her eyes but otherwise
ignore him. He smirked.
"I'm sorry he bothered you," Danny drew Stiles' attention to him. "He can be a
tool but at least he's a loyal tool."
Stiles snorted. Considering that Jackson was Danny's best friend, the goalie
was a-okay. And openly gay which seemed to bother no one because Danny, the
little sunshine, was pretty much everybody's darling. You just couldn't not
like Danny. If Stiles was honest, he could imagine himself liking Danny even
more than just in a nice-boy-next-door kind of way, if his day and nighttime
fantasies weren't already occupied by some handsome devil.
"Tool is too weak to describe the stupidity that is Jackson," Stiles replied
with a wry smile.
Danny grinned his 1000 watt grin. "Maybe. Diplomacy has always been a strength
of mine." He smirked before looking down and rocking on his heels.
If Stiles didn't know better, he'd think Danny was nervous. Nah. There was no
reason for Danny to be nervous about anything.
"Listen," Danny began, still rocking, hands in his jeans pockets, looking up at
Stiles almost shyly. "Do you wanna head over to..."
Someone shoved against Stiles from behind before Danny could finish his
question and Stiles stumbled forward, spilling his soda on himself in the
process. "Fuck!" The wetness was seeping through his thin hoodie and t-shirt
quickly and made the material stick to his skin uncomfortably.
"Sorry," the person who'd jostled against Stiles apologized and stepped in
front of him. Cora Hale, one of the girls in his year with whom he hadn't
exchanged more than five words all his life. She was most likely the same as
Lydia in that she didn't even realize he existed.
"It's fine," he grumbled even though it was not at all fine. His crappy evening
just got even crappier. The wet clothes and the cool evening breeze made him
shiver slightly and goose bumps broke out on his upper body. He plucked the
soggy material from his skin but that made matters only worse as cold air hit
his moist skin with no barrier in between.
"Jeez, don't be such a wussy," Cora snapped at him. "C'mon, let's find you
something dry to wear."
When she grabbed his wrist and tugged him to the patio door, Stiles braced his
feet against her efforts. Seriously, what was wrong with the girl? First, she
pushed him and caused him to spill his drink all over himself, then she ranted
at him and then she wanted to steal clothes for him? That girl had a lot of
criminal potential beneath her wouldn't-harm-a-fly exterior. Stiles foresaw a
rosy future in one of America's finest jails for her.
Wrenching his wrist from her surprisingly strong grip, he huffed, "Don't
bother. I was just about to head home anyway." She looked somewhat perplexed by
his rebuff, obviously used to get her way. Stiles simply turned to Danny who'd
watched the whole incident from the sidelines. "See you at school!"
"Hey, wait!" Danny stopped him. "Can I give you a ride?"
Stiles shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I'm here with my Jeep."
"Oh, okay," the goalie visibly deflated before grinning again. "Then I'll just
take you to your car."
Stiles shrugged, not sure why Danny was suddenly behaving so strangely.
He took off, Danny trailing behind him, leaving an indignant Cora in their wake
judging by her scowl. Stiles couldn't care less. He was done with this sucky
party.
After searching for and finding Scott who was still busy gnawing Allison's face
off and informing him that he was leaving - Scott: "Already? Oh, Danny's with
you. Have fun then!" Stiles: "It's not like that, idiot." - Stiles made his way
through the mob of dancing, drunk teenagers. Finally at his car, he sighed in
relief and climbed behind the wheel. "Thanks for the company, Danny!"
"No problem, Stiles," Danny replied somewhat subdued.
Whatever. Stiles didn't have the nerve to worry about Danny's atypical
weirdness after tonight.
He turned the ignition key. The Jeep gave a stutter and a hiss before shutting
off again. "Oh no," Stiles mumbled. "Come on." After another four failed
attempts, he dropped his head onto the steering wheel, accepting defeat. Great,
and another turn for the worst.
A knock on the window alerted him to Danny's persistent presence. "Wanna get
back to my offer?"
If Stiles didn't depend on the boy to get home, he'd have loved to wipe the
grin off his face he was so annoyed. "Sure," he sighed, exhausted, got out of
his Jeep and shuffled into Danny's car.
When he looked up from fastening his seatbelt, he thought he spotted Derek
looking straight at him from behind a low bush near the entrance of the house.
Stiles blinked. When he opened his eyes again, Derek was gone. Huh. He could
have sworn it was Derek. But how was that possible? The man didn't exist
outside of his dreams. It was probably just his tired mind playing cruel tricks
on him. Derek wasn't real. And if he had been real, no way would the guy show
any interest in someone like Stiles.
Leaning back into the seat and closing his eyes, Stiles just wished for the
night to be over and done with. He just wanted to go to bed and forget about
everything. Preferably in Derek's arms.
Derek cursed himself. Damn. He'd been careless in his anger at that stupid,
ever grinning boy who clearly wanted into Stiles' pants. He just hoped Stiles
hadn't got a clear view of him and hadn't recognized him.
When Stiles drove away with that obnoxious boy, Derek nearly popped an artery.
His plan to get Stiles away from the guy by sending Cora over to intervene had
backfired somewhat spectacularly. Never trust others with as important matters
as your soon-to-be mate. Now he had to set things right again himself, probably
by scaring the guy panting after Stiles away as Stiles' four-legged best
friend. Which would hopefully involve some biting and tearing into muscles.
He quickly stripped and changed forms behind a large bush that hid him from the
party guests before racing home as fast as he could. Derek had to get back to
Stiles' home before the boy did. There was no time to say goodbye to Cora.
She'd follow his scent, find the clothes, draw her conclusions and would
hopefully return the clothes to their righteous owner.
Fortunately, he did beat the two teenagers to the Stilinski house and was
sitting in front of the door when they arrived only a couple minutes later. He
trotted over to the passenger door, tail wagging, just as Stiles got out and
said, "Thanks for the ride, Danny. G'night."
Derek would grin from ear to ear if his wereform allowed it at seeing the guy's
- Danny's - crestfallen expression and hearing his disappointed "Good night,
Stiles." Stiles, to Derek's utter delight, was positively ignorant of the other
boy's intentions. After one last longing look, Danny drove off. Finally.
Only when Stiles nearly tripped over Derek did his mate notice him. Stiles'
weary expression immediately morphed into a genuine but still tired smile. "Hey
buddy," he greeted Derek and ruffled the fur on his neck, Derek's favorite spot
in wolf form. "How did you get out of the house? Did I forget to lock the door
or close a window? You're too smart for your own good, boy," Stiles murmured as
they headed inside and upstairs to Stiles' room. "Glad I'm finally home. Should
have stayed in like I wanted to, buddy. Next time Scott tries to talk me into
going to a party with him, please pin me to a horizontal surface with your big,
cuddly body and keep me from leaving the house."
Derek gave a short bark in agreement. He'd pin Stiles to whatever surface he
wanted all right, even vertical ones, but maybe a little differently than how
Stiles was thinking, with more skin and less fur and clothes.
"C'mon, boy, bedtime," Stiles all but slurred and yawned loudly as he climbed
into bed in his clothes, obviously too exhausted to bother with changing or
tooth brushing.
Derek didn't care. He had his mate where he wanted him and complied happily,
snuggling against the teenager who draped an arm across him and tugged him even
closer.
"Night, dog," Stiles breathed and went out like a light, Derek following him
into sleep shortly after.
The first words Derek perceived when he came to in their dream were, "I missed
you." They were in pretty much the same position on Stiles' dream bed in
Stiles' dream room as in reality. However, instead of wolf Derek human Derek
was snuggled up to the boy, face to face.
"Missed you, too," Derek replied softly and gave his lover a tender kiss.
They made out for a bit, lazy and unhurried as if they had all the time in the
world.
"You know," Stiles began after another deep, slow kiss, "I thought I saw you at
this party tonight. But I knew it couldn't be real because you only exist
here."
Derek sighed wearily. It would have been too good to be true if Stiles hadn't
noticed him. He leaned forward for another kiss to evade an answer and to get
Stiles' mind off tonight's happenings.
Unfortunately, Stiles wasn't easily deflected for once. "It's scary how much I
wish you were real and with me. It's the only thing I can think about," the boy
whispered, his voice so sad.
It hurt Derek to hear Stiles like that. In another attempt at turning things
steamy instead of gloomy, he nibbled along his mate's jaw towards his ear,
something that usually drove Stiles wild.
Again, Stiles didn't bite. "Scott says I need to find someone else, someone
real, to get over you."
At that, Derek growled lowly, unable to suppress his instinctual reaction to
Stiles' words. Stupid Scott. Derek would have a bone to pick with the guy once
Stiles and he were mated.
"But I know as long as we're here together, as long as I see and have you here,
I won't be able to stop wanting you." Stiles looked up into Derek's eyes,
taking a shaky breath as if to steal himself for something.
Derek didn't like where this was going at all.
"Maybe," Stiles started, "maybe it's better if I stopped dreaming of you but I
just don't know how."
Stiles' words felt as if someone had run through Derek's heart with a
wolfsbane-laced blade. "No!" He shouted before he could stop himself and pulled
Stiles closer, clinging to him desperately.
"But Derek, I can't go on like this. It's driving me insane. It's already so
bad that my mind's begun to play tricks on me and makes me see you even though
you're not there," Stiles said in a tormented voice.
Derek could feel wetness on his skin where he pressed Stiles' face against his
chest. His mate was crying. Stiles was crying and miserable and it was all
because of him, Derek.
No, it couldn't go on like this, Derek agreed. But wasn't it too soon to tell
him the truth? He wasn't ready yet, was he? But what other options did Derek
have? It was either lose his mate because Stiles decided to cut off their
mental connection because the boy couldn't stand longing for Derek anymore or
telling him and still losing him or, hopefully, winning him as his mate in
reality.
Maybe it was time to take the plunge and just do it. He had so much to lose but
even more to gain.
"Stiles, look at me, baby," Derek whispered into Stiles' hair underneath his
chin and only continued when big, teary eyes were blinking up at him. It nearly
broke his heart to see his beautiful mate so distressed and only firmed his
resolve to clear things up. Either way, Stiles was going to be better
afterwards, even if he rejected Derek. He'd get over Derek eventually, move on
and not be so miserable anymore and even if the thought hurt like hell, it
helped Derek to go on. "This'll sound crazy but I need you to believe me,
Stiles."
After a second, the boy nodded hesitantly, tears still spilling down his
cheeks.
"Remember our talk about shape shifters and soulmates?" Derek asked gently.
Again, Stiles nodded, though more warily this time. He most likely had no idea
what Derek was getting at.
Figuring that taking it one step at a time and not being too hasty would get
him further, Derek took a deep breath to prepare for launching into an
elaborate explanation that would set up the big reveal nicely. However, what
finally came out was, "I am your dog, actually your wolf, werewolf, and I'm
your soulmate."
So much for not being too hasty.
Chapter End Notes
     As always, I'd love to hear what you thought. :)
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Okay, so, I hope the wait was short enough for you guys this time. ;)
     Here we go, Stiles' reaction. Again, unbeta'ed (but not for long, I
     hope).
See the end of the chapter for more notes
For a second there, Stiles didn't know how to react. Then, he burst into a
laugh.
"Yeah, right, and I'm Batman," he snorted, sitting up to wipe the tears that
were now tears of laughter from his cheeks. Seriously, just what he'd needed, a
good joke. His hilarity didn't cease even in his sleep. And while the part
about soulmates hit probably too close to home and caused a sharp sting in the
general region of his heart, the part about Derek being his dog was just
ridiculously fantastical. His mind, seriously. There should be movies made out
of the stuff going on in there.
"No, Stiles, you have to believe me," Derek repeated as he sat up as well,
grabbing Stiles' shoulders with a desperate look in his eyes. "I am real and I
am your dog. You love playing tag with me and that I can get away with
destroying things like your Dad's horrendous sandals. And you always pet my
neck and..."
Stiles huffed, interrupting his dream guy's frantic words, suddenly becoming
angry at Derek which basically meant at himself for conjuring up such a
perseverant lover who couldn't just drop it but instead had to rub salt in his
wounds.
"I know that. My subconscious knows it which, oh, right, made you up, in case
you forgot," Stiles snarled. He'd crossed the line from being severely amused
to being severely annoyed. When he'd went to bed he'd actually just wanted to
leave the weirdness and awfulness that had been his night behind. However, he
just hadn't been able to let it go, the events too upsetting for him, and had
therefore somehow steered his dream into a direction he wasn't even remotely
okay with. Enough was enough.
Derek, however, didn't seem to think so. "I can prove it," he said and the
despair in the man's eyes almost made Stiles gasp. Almost.
Instead, he drawled, "Yeah? How? This is a dream, dude. Nothing that you can do
here, that happens here, translates into reality."
"Then wake up, Stiles," Derek edged on, still holding on to Stiles' shoulder
and even shaking him a little. "Wake up and I'll be with you instead of your
dog."
Stiles' breathing stopped. Oh god, how often had he wished for exactly that to
happen over the past couple months. He must be a masochist extraordinaire to
wave the one thing he wished for the most in front of himself like that.
"You're not real," he whispered just to remind himself, shaking his head
slowly. Tonight's emotional rollercoaster ride had taken its toll on him and
left him almost as drained as he had been when his mom had died.
"I am, I promise," Derek said insistingly. "Now, wake up, Stiles. Please."
Still shaking his head, Stiles breathed, "No, I don't wanna. Can't we just go
back to how things were before?" He just wanted to forget it all, bury all the
hurt and confusion and misery and build a stone wall around it.
Derek closed his eyes and Stiles would swear he'd never seen a more pained
expression on anyone before. "I'm sorry, Stiles, but we can't. It's time. I
can't let this go on any longer. Please, close your eyes and wake up, Stiles,"
Derek pleaded with a determined look. "Trust me."
It was the misery he saw reflected back at him from Derek's eyes that finally
made Stiles cave. What did he have to lose in the end? Nothing. He'd wake up,
his dog would be sleeping next to him and then he'd go back to sleep himself
and maybe dream again about the man who'd stolen his heart. It wouldn't even be
disappointing because it wasn't like he expected Derek to be lying next to him
when he awoke because it simply wasn't possible.
No, it wouldn't hurt more than waking up on any other day and finding himself
alone, his lover left behind in the realm of dreams.
After a last hesitating moment, Stiles closed his eyes. He wasn't sure if he
wasn't just imagining it but he thought he heard Derek murmur, "Please don't
freak out."
It was then that it occurred to him that he'd never willed himself to wake up
in his dreams. Was that even feasible?
But before he could worry about it anymore, Derek kept repeating, "Wake up,
Stiles. Please wake up."
The soft words pulled at him, or something inside of him, he wasn't certain,
but his consciousness grew fuzzy around the edges, along with Derek's voice.
Then, after a heartbeat or two, he heard his lover more clearly again, still
repeating his plea before he fell silent.
"You're awake," the same voice said then, sounding something in between
hopeful, dreading, and uncertain. "Open your eyes, Stiles."
And Stiles did. He opened his eyes, sure that he was still dreaming or
otherwise he wouldn't hear Derek. But when his eyelids fluttered open and his
awareness sharpened he noticed the little differences between dream and reality
almost immediately. The bed underneath him was harder, the material of his
bedclothes not as soft. The light streaming in through the window was colder
and didn't make his room glow in soft, yellowish twilight. His heater made that
annoying clicking noise that his dad had called some handyman about to look it
over in a couple days. It smelled faintly of the soda he'd spilled over
himself. He still even wore his clothes from the party, complete with the
soiled t-shirt and hoodie which had mostly dried by the time he'd gotten home.
In the dream, he'd been naked like always, just like Derek.
Derek.
Stiles sat up and turned sideways, stopped, stared.
"Hello Stiles," Derek said with a self-conscious smile from where he sat right
next to Stiles. Completely naked, if Stiles wasn't mistaken, though at least
covered with the blanket. Naked like in the dream but everything around him
felt off, too sharp, too real to be anything but real.
"No," Stiles breathed, over and over. As his mind tried to make sense of what
he saw he felt his chest tighten, his heart beating a frantic tattoo, his
throat slowly closing up. His head filled with cotton wool until there was no
room for any other thought than the one word he was also uttering inside his
mind. "No, no, no, no, no."
Someone shook him, shouted at him but he didn't understand the words. He
couldn't think, couldn't breathe properly. What was it that he was supposed to
do again when that happened?
"Breathe, Stiles! You've got to breathe!" Someone yelled, again and again, and
finally Stiles could make out the one crucial word in the jumble of sounds,
breathe. That was what he was supposed to do.
Forcing himself to concentrate enough to do just that, he breathed. In-two-
three-four, out-two-three-four. In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four.
He didn't know how long it took for the cotton wool to slowly vanish into thin
air and for his mind to go back online but by the time his rational thinking
returned and he could breathe more easily again, he was sticky with sweat. And
then, he remembered. Derek.
"Thank God, Stiles," the man said in an unsteady voice, relief and lingering
worry thick in his tone. "Are you okay? I was so worried about you."
Still feeling rather shaken from the previous episode, Stiles zeroed in on
Derek and suddenly felt a surge of intense, negative emotions flood through
him. "No," he snarled, "no, I'm not okay. I haven't had a panic attack in years
and right now, I think I've finally snapped and boarded the train to crazy town
because I'm seeing things that shouldn't be real." He paused, his eyes
narrowing on the man next to him. "Or, I'm not going insane and because of some
stupid, inexplicable magic bullshit, you're really real and my dog and the guy
I fucked in my dreams who's been lying to me for freakin' months!"
Stiles watched as Derek retreated to the edge of the bed as if slapped, Stiles'
shoulders shaking from his completely justified outburst of rage. When he'd
imagined that Derek was real, Stiles had always thought he'd be the most happy
person alive. Instead, he'd never felt so angry, so hurt, so betrayed before
because Derek had been real all this time and had let him suffer in loneliness,
all the while frolicking about as Stiles' goddamned dog.
Which was a whole other can of worms Stiles had no intention of opening right
now, because wholly shit, Derek was a werewolf.
A werewolf who'd stalked him until Stiles had taken him in as his pet. Who'd
somehow stolen into Stiles' dreams. Who'd told him fancy stories about shifters
and soulmates after fucking him and now claimed he was Stiles' soulmate. Who'd
made Stiles want and wish and feel utterly alone. Who hadn't found it necessary
to fucking tell Stiles until months later.
'Yeah, focus, Stiles. One thing at a time. Focus is good,' he told himself
grimly. And right now, there was only one thing really worth focussing on.
"All this time," he continued when Derek didn't appear to say a thing, a bit
more composed but still charged with all the feelings coursing through him,
"you led me to believe that I was falling for a guy who only existed in my
dreams, who I could never have for real. Do you even know how much that hurt?"
He stopped there because his voice was short of breaking and he didn't want to
give the one who was responsible for it the satisfaction of seeing him actually
break. After a couple seconds of measured breaths, he was calm enough to go on,
"You lied to me.."
"No," Derek interrupted forcefully, hands raised in a placating manner, eyes
pleading. "I never lied to you, Stiles, and I never would."
"Right," Stiles snorted, "you only kept one little but all-important detail
from me." Again, he stopped, gathering his thoughts. "You couldn't just simply
get to know me the old-fashioned way before introducing me to all the crazy
before getting involved, could you? Take me to the movies, buy me milkshakes,
go for a walk in the park?"
Derek looked lost, visibly searching for words, but Stiles had had enough. More
than enough. He simply couldn't deal with it all anymore. Tonight had turned
from a disaster to a nightmare of epic proportions and he just felt so fucking
tired, emotionally drained until there was nothing left but a hollowness
inside.
Averting his eyes from the desperate look on the most handsome face he'd ever
seen, Stiles whispered, "Go."
"Stiles," Derek all but gasped, voice wrecked and raw.
"Go," Stiles repeated, louder, angrier this time, gaze turned on Derek once
again for emphasis, "or I'll call my dad home from work who has a gun and won't
be happy to find his only son with a strange man in his bed."
For long seconds, they simply sat there, staring at each other in the cold blue
light of the night, Derek's gaze searching, hoping, praying, Stiles'
unwavering, determined. After what felt like an eternity, Derek nodded curtly,
climbed out of the bed and slinked over to the window.
If he'd been Stiles' dog, a dog, werewolf, whatever, at the moment and had had
a tail, it would've been tucked between his legs and rightfully so, Stiles
thought without any sympathy.
Just when Stiles was about to point out that the way out was through the door
on the other side of the room, Derek opened the window and climbed outside in
all his nakedness that Stiles didn't have the nerve to acknowledge at all.
Crouching on Stiles' windowsill, Derek cast him one last look over his
shoulder, then disappeared into the night.
Stiles was still sitting there, staring into space, mind carefully blank, when
his dad came home from his nightshift a couple hours later and silently peeked
into Stiles' room.
"Hey son," the sheriff said, sounding almost as tired as Stiles felt. "How come
you're awake this early on a Saturday morning?"
Stiles just shrugged his shoulders in a detached way.
"Huh," his dad mumbled, obviously picking up on Stiles' bad mood, or
moodlessness, to be precise, since he was too empty to feel anything at all.
"You alright, Stiles?"
"Fine," Stiles said with no inflection whatsoever.
When he didn't even turn around to his dad, the sheriff walked over and sat
down at the edge of the bed. "I know I'd never win the best dad in the world
award, what with me being off at work all the time. But I can still see when
something's wrong with my boy." Pause, then, "You know I'm here for you if you
wanna talk."
That got Stiles to face his father who displayed deep worry lines that Stiles
didn't want to add to anymore than he already had. So he plastered on a fake
smile that he knew wouldn't fool his dad but it'd, at least, keep his dad from
becoming a murderer if he told him what was really going on. "Thanks, dad, I
love you," Stiles muttered and gave his old man an awkward hug from his
position on the bed, hoping to deflect his dad's worries some.
"Love you, too, son," his dad replied in a low voice and returned the hug
wholeheartedly. On his way back out of Stiles' room, he turned around to ask,
"Hey, where's that annoying fleabag of a dog? Doesn't he usually sleep in your
room?"
And that there gave Stiles the out he was looking for, a plausible explanation
for his current weird behavior. So he just said, "Gone." in a small voice and
was surprised at the sharp sting he felt even through his numbness when it
suddenly sunk in that not only Derek was now gone but his dog as well. He had
to swallow around a lump in his throat. Just as well. He'd been living a lie.
It was good that the source of all his problems had vanished from his life
completely.
"What?" The sheriff sounded incredulous. "What happened? Did you leave a door
open? Have you looked for him in the neighborhood?"
"Don't know," Stiles answered to the first two questions, giving half a nod at
the last.
"Oh, Stiles." His dad usually wasn't the most tactile person but he was
obviously pretty fond of Stiles' dog, Derek, because he was next to Stiles
again in a second, pulling him into another hug, probably to comfort them both.
It only made Stiles' eyes burn with unshed tears, tears he wasn't willing to
cry.
"That mutt is too clever for his own good," the sheriff mumbled sadly when he
let go of Stiles again, almost repeating the exact same words Stiles had said
to his dog, Derek goddammit, only a couple hours earlier.
'If only you knew how right you are,' Stiles thought cynically. 'If only I'd
known.'
"We'll find him, son, I promise. Let me just get a couple hours sleep. I'm
wiped and would probably fall asleep on my feet if we went out searching for
him right now, okay?"
Stiles nodded. There simply was no other response.
"We can pin posters of him on posts and I'll instruct my deputies to watch out
for him," the sheriff went on planning their search that would most definitely
lead to nowhere. "You create the poster, I catch up on some sleep."
Reconsidering, he added, "Maybe you should try to get some more sleep, too. Oh,
and one more thing. Where's your Jeep? I actually just came in here to check if
you were here because it's not parked in front of the house."
"It's over at a friend's," Stiles answered shortly but elaborated when he saw
his dad's questioning eyebrow, "it wouldn't start so I left it there. Danny
gave me a ride."
"We'll take it to the shop later," the sheriff said. "Okay, I'm heading off to
bed. See you at lunch at the latest. You cooking?"
Stiles nodded.
"What're we having?"
"Spaghetti with meatballs," Stiles replied, not giving much thought to his
answer since he was already slipping back into the peaceful void he'd been in
when his dad had come home.
"Huh," was his dad's baffled reply.
"Night, dad," Stiles mumbled.
"Night, son," the sheriff said back and with one last worried look at his boy
left the room.
Chapter End Notes
     The end.
      
     Nah, I wouldn't end it like that, don't worry. I am a big fan of
     stories with happy endings and I don't write stories I don't like. ;)
     Just bear with me a little longer and let me live to continue. :) Oh,
     and leave comments, please. :)
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     And on it goes, chapter 9 (unbeta'ed, but that's about to change
     soon). It's drawing to a close, folks. :)
     On another note, I made some artwork for the story, cover art (in
     chapter 1) and dividers between Derek's and Stiles' POV and at the
     end of each chapter. I hope it didn't turn out too bad since it's
     only my second attempt at doing art for one of my stories.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Of course, Stiles didn't end up taking his dad's advice and getting some sleep.
He simply couldn't. Not with the possibility of having to face Derek once again
in his dreams because at the moment, Derek was the last person Stiles wanted to
see, asleep or awake.
Which brought him to another dilemma. He didn't even know how this whole dream-
sharing business worked and if, maybe, Derek could only access his dreams - or
was it the other way round? - when they were physically close.
As always, Stiles deemed research the key to solving his problems. However,
after at least three hours of excessively google-fuing dream-sharing or
dreamwalking as well as werewolves, shape shifters and soulmates, his head swam
even worse than before. There was so much crap and conflicting information on
the internet that Stiles had absolutely no idea what to believe or even
consider to be the truth. In the end, he decided to leave it for another day,
provided he ever felt the need to torture himself again with sorting through
unreliable stuff about supernatural beings and what have you, now that he'd
banished the one supernatural element from his life.
Sure, he had the information Derek had given him only a night before and that
he'd, of course, written off as rubbish at the time, like the whole bridging of
supernatural abilities that happened between a shape shifter and a human. What
made matters worse, he didn't know if he should believe whatever he'd learned
from the person who'd betrayed him and hurt him so deeply.
In addition, Derek hadn't spoken about their weird dream connection thingy
which still left Stiles with the problem of whether he could sleep without
fearing to see Derek again. But if he trusted that Derek had told him the
truth, it was likely that with Derek gone, the bridge or connection or whatever
there was between them was gone as well and that Stiles could probably sleep in
peace again.
Still, he didn't want to take chances, not when his mental and emotional sanity
depended on it. He wasn't keen on having another panic attack, no sir.
He knew he should probably be more rational about it, consider Derek's side of
the story as well, try to understand his motives, why the guy had acted the way
he had. But when he'd given him the time to explain himself last night in
between one of Stiles' rants Derek had remained silent as a grave. Plus, the
guy'd had months of coming clean but had instead tormented Stiles with what he
thought was unattainable for him.
No, he couldn't just put it all behind him, maybe even give Derek another
chance, not after what the man had put him through, not when the wound in
Stiles' chest was still so fresh. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to
forgive him, even though the guy was supposedly his soulmate. After all, who
did things like that to his soulmate and cause his soulmate so much pain?
On top of that, Stiles felt used. Right from the beginning of their
acquaintance, they'd had sex. Of course, at the time, Stiles had just thought
he had really vivid wet dreams but in hindsight, knowing what he knew now -
namely that his dream partner had been real the whole time and had slept with
him in their shared dreams without telling Stiles - it made him feel queasy.
He'd never jump into bed with someone on first sight in real life. If he'd
known back then, he wouldn't have let it go down like that.
When Derek had told him about the concept of soulmates Stiles had wanted that,
badly. Now, he wasn't so sure if having a soulmate was such a good thing. One
person, bound to you, who held so much power over you that they could easily
crush you. Didn't sound like something desirable.
With a sigh, Stiles closed the browser and moved on to halfheartedly creating a
'lost dog' poster. The old man would become suspicious if Stiles didn't make
one and Stiles didn't need a suspicious Sheriff on his back on top of
everything.
Unfortunately, he had a truckload of pictures of his ex-dog which he had no
inclination of going through. Instead, he just randomly clicked on one that
he'd use for the poster. It was one of the pictures his dad had taken and
showed Stiles with his arms around the dog, werewolf, Stiles smiling brightly
at the camera, Derek's tongue sticking out in a happy dog expression. Stiles
quickly closed the window again at the flash of hurt and opened another
picture. Better if only the supposed dog was on it anyway.
When he was done with the poster - which didn't turn out as it would have if
the cover story of his missing dog was really true but looked good enough not
to make his dad suspect anything else was off - he went downstairs to make
lunch. To his dad's great disappointment, however, he didn't make spaghetti
with meatballs but a vegetable casserole. Just because some shit happened in
his life didn't mean that he'd let his dad's diet slide.
After lunch, they towed off Stiles' Jeep and took it to the shop where they
told him they'd need probably a week to repair it. Then, Stiles and his dad
spent hours driving through the neighborhood in search of the dog, of course,
with no luck. His dad assured him that they'd go again tomorrow and that he
shouldn't give up hope. Stiles just wished he could tell his dad everything and
make him see that their search was in vain without the prospect of being put in
a psychiatry.
By the end of the day, Stiles' head was pounding as if someone had been beating
on it. With Thor's hammer. Repeatedly. He just wanted to go to bed and sleep,
sleep, sleep, even though it was only nine.
Thankfully, the driving around in the cruiser with his dad all day hadn't been
completely fruitless. He'd used the time to think about the dream issue and had
come up with an idea: sleeping pills. He'd taken them right after his mom had
died because he'd dreamt of her dying in horrible ways each night. Back then,
his dad had taken him to the doctor who'd prescribed him the pills so to fall
into a deeper sleep where he wouldn't be plagued by nightmares and thank God,
they had worked. He hadn't taken them in a long time but he was sure that they
still had some in the medicine cabinet. Stiles figured his dad would be less
than thrilled about him taking them again, so it was a good thing his had
already left for work.
After swallowing one of the pills down with a glass of water and stowing away
the rest of them under his pillow, he lay down, trying to think of nothing
which was quite a feat for him. But the past two days had worn him down so much
that, in combination with the drugs, he quickly fell asleep and didn't wake up
until ten the next morning, with no dreams corrupting his sleep whatsoever.
Unbelievably, though, he still didn't feel much better after almost thirteen
hours of uninterrupted sleep. The headache was still present and on top of
that, he felt slightly nauseous which led him to skip breakfast and only nibble
on a piece of toast for lunch. His dad shot him worried glances throughout the
day which was all in all more of the same as the day before, well, without the
part of taking the Jeep to the shop, of course. More searching for a dog that
never was a dog to begin with and would never be found if he didn't want to.
Plus, more blocking of thoughts involving said not-dog.
Scott came over in the afternoon and, tactful as ever, said Stiles looked like
shit. They did their homework together for the next day and Scott gushed about
Allison and her wonderfulness and told Stiles too many details about what
they'd been up to at a party. Even as a best friend, he didn't need to know
about every single part Scott had groped and vice versa, seriously. Especially,
if his head was killing him.
When Scott trotted home again Stiles immediately went to bed but, of course,
not without taking a sleeping pill beforehand. Again, it worked like a charm
and he was spared from dreaming and possibly seeing Derek.
If it was possible, he felt even worse the next day. Maybe the fact that it was
a school day had something to do with it but somehow he doubted it.
Sitting through his classes was pure torture. Thankfully, the other students
gave him a wide berth. Only Scott, best friend that he was, stuck around.
Danny stopped by his desk at some stage and asked him if he was alright but
other than a couple grunts and an obviously untrue "'m fine" didn't get
anything else out of Stiles.
The next couple of days passed by in much the same fashion. Each morning he
looked worse for wear in the bathroom mirror with dark circles growing bigger
and bigger under his eyes. The headache hadn't subsided in the least and was
still making his days hell to get through. He had no appetite and wouldn't have
eaten at all if it wasn't for his dad and Scott who practically forced at least
some bites down his throat. They both looked increasingly concerned about him
and Stiles tried his best not to let his suffering show all that much when he
was around them. Stiles feared his dad would soon pick up on the fact that no
missing dog was behind Stiles' miserable state if he didn't pull his head out
of his ass soon. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done because this
damn flu or cold or whatever the heck he'd picked up in addition to everything
else just wouldn't give him a break and let him handle the situation more
sensibly. Usually, lots of sleep helped when he felt under the weather. Not
this time, unfortunately.
In addition, he hadn't jerked off in God knows how long whereas usually he did
it several times a day. Thing was, he didn't even feel much like jacking off
these days. Honestly, he didn't think he'd even manage to get it up in his
current condition.
On two days, he'd woken in a cold sweat with traces of fear lingering around
the edges, the bed completely soaked. Fear from or for what, he had no clue
since it couldn't have been from a dream so he had simply shrugged it off. No
need to burden himself with even more things he didn't understand or didn't
feel up to deal with. On his list of issues to get back to at a later time - or
never, if it could be helped - it ranked right underneath Derek - number one by
far - and the chem pop quiz he'd most likely blown on Tuesday.
At school, pretty much everyone, including the teachers, excluding Harris
because he was a dickbag, left him alone. Coach even sent him home because he
apparently looked 'like death warmed over, Stickowsky.'
What he didn't notice, though, were the nasty looks Cora shot his way all
through the week. So it came as a surprise when she cornered him on his way to
his locker on Friday afternoon after the last bell.
"Listen, you little shit, I've had enough of this. My brother's in a coma
because of you, probably even dying. I don't give jack shit that I'm not
supposed to interfere. Screw that! I can't just watch my brother die just
because some asshole is too absorbed in himself," Cora yelled at him, shoving
him roughly into the wall and making him see stars.
"Hey now, what the heck is wrong with you? Which nut house let you out?
Seriously, I have no freaking idea what you're talking about," Stiles shouted
back just as loud and pushed her away. Unfortunately, she didn't budge an inch
and remained firmly in his comfort zone.
"My brother, Derek, is dying as we speak," she growled and flashed angry,
golden eyes at him for a second before they turned back to their usual color.
"What?" He croaked, not sure he'd seen and heard correctly.
"Derek's dying, you fucker, and you're the only one to stop him from giving up.
So you need to come with me right now." In an obviously typical Cora move, she
grabbed his wrist and pulled him along the corridor and outside of the
building.
Stiles was too dazed to protest against her rough treatment, plus he was still
trying to process what she'd just told him. Cora Hale was Derek's brother? So
that made Cora a werewolf as well. One who was visibly very angry with him
because what? Derek was dying because of him? And he, Stiles, was the only one
who could save him? Bullshit! He hadn't done anything to Derek except kick him
out when he'd learned that Derek had lied to him all these months.
He braced his feet against Cora's pulling, finally getting a grip on himself
and the ridiculousness of the situation. "Stop dragging me along all the damn
time! I don't know what your problem is, girl, but I'm not falling for another
lie from one of you!"
Stepping closer and invading his comfort zone once more, she spat, "I'm not
lying, asshole, and if you care about him even a little bit, you better come
with me or you'll be responsible for his death."
They stared at each other, hard, then Stiles deflated somewhat. Of course, he
cared about the bastard, probably always would. And if Derek really was dying
and he was the only one who could do something about it, he'd do it. Because
damn it all, but his heart would probably shrivel up and die as well when just
the thought of a world with no Derek in it had it hurting so bad.
So Stiles simply nodded his acquiescence and let her drag him to her car, too
spent from their discussion to rebel once more against her method of making
sure he followed.
Maybe she wasn't lying and he really was Derek's only hope. Weirder things had
happened in the past couple of days. Well, maybe not weirder but probably on
the same level of weirdness.
And if she was lying and was simply trying to play matchmaker or if Derek was
behind all this and was meanwhile sitting at home, munching away on some
cookies or scowling at plants or whatever the guy did in his spare time, then
Stiles could always storm out of there again and finally put the whole ordeal
behind himself.
He leaned his forehead against the cool side window to soothe his killer
headache a little, watching as Beacon Hills rushed past them as Cora's speeding
took them closer to her home. To Derek.
Chapter End Notes
     Please let me know what you thought about this part (and the art ;)).
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     Happy Easter everyone! I'm (finally) back with another chapter and
     I'm really really very sorry for the (horrendously) long wait. If
     it's any consolation, this chapter is much much longer than all the
     others. I've added a rather important paragraph to the previous
     chapter so I advice you read that one again before starting with the
     new installment.
     On another note, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who left kudos
     and/or a comment so far! Thanks for taking the time and for being
     persistent that I finish and my apologies to those I haven't
     answered. I really appreciate each and every kudo/comment!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
In hindsight, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that Derek, Cora, and their
werewolf family lived deep in the Preserve, far from the rest of Beacon Hills.
When they finally pulled up in front of what had to be the Hale house Stiles
got out without waiting for another insult or a wrist tug from Cora. He was
already halfway to the house when the front door sprang open and a dark-haired,
attractive woman whose appearance practically screamed 'I gave birth to Derek
and Cora' rushed down the porch towards him. She had dark circles under her
bloodshot eyes, much like him, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair looked
as if she'd been running her fingers through them constantly. She definitely
had the air of a mother who feared for her son's life.
"You must be Stiles. I had hoped to meet you under different circumstances,"
she said with a sad smile before it vanished again when she turned towards her
daughter. "Which part of 'don't get involved' and 'leave the boy alone' didn't
you get, young lady?"
"Just... Tell me where he is," Stiles said before Cora could get a word in,
suddenly feeling tired to the bone. Whatever was awaiting him inside that house
- Stiles just wanted to get it over with, go home, and sleep for at least
fifteen hours straight. He neither had the patience nor the energy to endure a
discussion between mother and daughter, much less if both were hot-blooded,
short-tempered werewolf ladies.
Derek's mother watched him with sharp eyes that resembled Derek's so much it
was almost like a punch to the gut. It felt as if she could see right into his
soul. After about two and a half eternities, she nodded curtly. "Follow me."
So Stiles did. He felt detached, only noticing his surroundings in a vague sort
of way as they walked through the house to, supposedly, Derek's room. During
the last couple of days, Stiles had wondered if and how he would see Derek
again and what it would be like if he did. What was he supposed to say? To
feel? To even think of the guy who'd snuck into Stiles' life and home, who'd
betrayed him and used him while carving himself a space so deep inside Stiles'
heart that Stiles would never be able to cut him out without damaging his heart
beyond repair?
He was not prepared for this. One measly week was not enough time, not enough
water under the bridge if there ever was enough. He was even less prepared if
what Cora had told him was true and Derek lay dying. What was he supposed to do
then?
'Jesus, this is all just so fucked up,' was his last clear thought before
Derek's mom opened another door and all thoughts got pushed to the background
upon seeing what was inside.
Slowly, he made his wobbly legs cooperate and stumble step after step into the
room and closer to the still figure on the bed. Even though he'd only ever seen
Derek for real once plus a few times in their shared dream world, Stiles was
certain that he'd always recognize him. The man on the bed, though, looked like
a very bad wax figure of the man he knew, with dull hair stuck to pale, clammy-
looking skin. The most unnerving thing were the eyes, open but clearly not
seeing. Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine.
"What's wrong with him?" He whispered. He stood several feet in front of the
bed, too scared to move closer and find that it was too late and Derek was
already dead. It was an irrational fear since he could see Derek's chest moving
with each shallow breath. When you were faced with seeing someone you cared
about so sick they couldn't even move there was not much place for rational
thoughts. Stiles knew. He'd lived through this experience once before.
And yes, he did still care for Derek, even after everything. His painfully fast
beating heart told him the feelings were still there, although mostly buried
underneath all the hurt and anger and resentment.
"It's telepathic separation," Derek's mom then said.
Stiles frowned. He'd never heard of that before, neither from Derek nor while
scouring the internet for information on this thing between Derek and him.
"Telepathic what?"
"Has my son explained to you what we are?"
He nodded.
"And about soulmates?"
Another nod.
"But he hasn't told you about telepathic separation?"
Stiles shook his head.
Mrs. Hale sighed. "It can happen when soulmates don't stay in regular
telepathic touch. It's not usually that bad in not fully bonded pairs.
Normally, you would only feel under the weather for a while, a bad headache,
maybe some anxiety at the worst." Stiles must have made a noise of recognition
of what she was describing because next she said, "You've noticed it, too,
haven't you?"
He nodded again, snorting. "I thought it was the flu." He didn't know if he
should feel stupid about his ignorance concerning everything supernatural or
relieved to finally know why he'd been so exhausted all the damn time this
week.
For a while, neither of them spoke, both deep in thought while watching the
almost lifeless man on the bed.
"This... situation is really unusual," Mrs. Hale started, clearly puzzled.
"I've never heard of a similar instance. Going into a coma, it usually only
happens in fully bonded pairs." She paused again. "You must already have a very
strong mental connection without being fully bonded since I don't think you've
either shared thoughts while you're awake or consumed your bond physically
yet."
A vicious blush crawled up his throat and onto his cheeks. Oh God, did she
know? Had Derek told her what they'd been up to in their dreams? Jesus, he'd
never felt as mortified. And shared thoughts while awake? Seriously?
"Don't worry, Stiles. I don't know the details," she said mildly. "You're
reaction just now told me more than my tight-lipped son has. I'm very good at
extrapolating."
Stiles could practically hear the wink in her voice, a weak attempt to lighten
the mood that fell short because both of them were simply too tense. Deciding
to ignore the thought-sharing-stuff for now, he asked, "How long has he been
like this?"
"Since Tuesday."
Stiles gasped. Three days? Derek had been comatose for three whole days and no
one had deemed it necessary to inform him? Even worse, they'd consciously
decided against telling him when he was, as per Cora - who hadn't followed them
to Derek's room as Stiles just then noticed, thanking God for small mercies -
Derek's only chance?
Angry on behalf of Derek's life, he turned around to face Derek's mom and took
a deep breath to start questioning her paternal instincts right into her face
when she beat him to it.
"I know what you're about to say, Stiles..."
He snorted. She hardly did.
"But it was Derek's wish."
What? "What?"
If he'd had to count the times Mrs. Hale sighed, looking like she had to carry
the weight of the world on her shoulders, Stiles would have needed at least an
abacus to keep track. "Before he holed himself up in his room he told us that
he'd messed up with you, that he'd hurt you unintentionally. He made us promise
to leave you alone. He wanted to give you space. He said that if you ever came
back to him, it would have to be of your own volition, your choice."
That bastard. Stupid idiot! Stiles wanted to shake him awake and yell at him
for endangering his own life like this. Again, irrational since the damn moron
clearly couldn't have known that he was going to lapse into a coma without
being fully bonded. He felt tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. Derek's
last noble wish, to leave Stiles the choice if he wanted to see Derek again,
had almost cost him his life.
Looking over to Derek's mother once again, he saw a tear rolling down her
cheek. " I love my son and I respect his wishes. But it almost broke my heart
to do so this time," she whispered, voice nearly breaking.
Stiles had to blink several times and wipe his eyes with his sleeve before he
was ready to speak again. "Would you have let him die? Would you have respected
his wish even if it meant his death?"
"I believe I would have knocked on your door and begged you to save his life by
tomorrow." She shot him a watery smile.
Stiles returned it, equally watery. "So, what now? What do I have to do?"
She straightened her back, composing herself. "You have to form a mental
connection with him to pull him out of the coma. But Stiles, go easy on him,
please. What he did was questionable at best, I know, but he meant good. He was
afraid of losing you before you even got to know him. It's happened before with
other soulmates," she explained but Stiles cut her off.
"I don't need you to make excuses for him." It came out harsher than he
intended. He blamed the weariness of the telepathic separation. "I'm sorry,
it's just... I don't want to hear this from you, Mrs. Hale." Softer, he added,
"I want to hear it from him."
She must've heard him because a faint smile flickered across her face. "Then
you should go and talk to him."
"How?"
"Like you always have, in your dreams. Just lie down next to him and sleep.
This close, your minds won't be able to help themselves but to look for each
other. It'll be even easier if you touch him." She smiled hopefully.
Bracing himself, Stiles walked closer and climbed into bed next to Derek in his
human form for the very first time. He felt uneasy at the thought of touching
Derek after everything so he left some room between them and only took Derek's
clammy hand into his. "Will this be enough?"
Mrs. Hale nodded, still smiling encouragingly. "I believe it will." Turning
serious once more, she begged, "Please bring my son back, Stiles. We can sort
everything else out afterwards."
Stiles simply nodded because there was nothing left to say. Of course, he'd
bring Derek back. And depending on Derek, he also had a vague idea how they
could sort this whole mess out.
With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and willed himself to relax so he would
fall asleep.
Derek didn't know where he was. It was dark and damp and eerily silent. He was
curled into a tight ball on the cold hard floor. He deserved this. For
everything he'd put his mate through he'd deserved this and even worse.
There was no such thing as awareness of time in his prison. It could have been
minutes, days, or years when he faintly heard someone call his name. He ignored
it only to hear it again, a bit clearer than before. It almost sounded like his
mate, calling him, but no, that wasn't possible. His mate was far away and most
definitely wouldn't want to see Derek ever again. Derek had irrevocably
destroyed his chance of being with his soulmate. He'd hurt his soulmate. He
didn't deserve him.
As the voice got nearer and nearer, he buried his head under his arm to shut it
out. It was bad enough that he was well aware he'd never get to listen to his
mate say his name again when his mind wasn't tormenting him by conjuring his
voice up.
Apparently, he couldn't block it out completely, though.
"Derek! Where the fuck are you? I can't see a thing in this freakin' hellhole!"
Next, there was a muffled click and a dim light behind Derek's half-hidden,
closed eyes. Was that a flashlight?
Not real. Not real. His mate wasn't here. This wasn't real.
"Ah! So, that worked. Awesome. Now, Derek, where... Oh!"
When something touched his shoulder Derek gave a violent jerk, pulling down his
arms in the process. His heart worked overtime in shock as he blinked into the
sudden light. It took a while until his eyes adjusted and he could make out
shapes. What he then saw was the most perplexing thing.
"S... Stiles?" He gasped, blinking several more times to see his mate more
clearly. It was too good to be true. Stiles couldn't really be here. His mind
had to be playing tricks on him, right? "Is that... is that really you? Are you
real?" His voice sounded rusty, almost raspy from disuse.
The boy was crouching next to him, the hand that had touched Derek retrieved to
his side. "As real as you can be in a shared dream. Something you probably
should've mentioned when all this started, by the way," his mate added in an
accusing tone.
Slowly, Derek sat up, only then noticing the tattered clothes hanging from his
body. He was so confused. Stiles was really here? He'd come to him, into his
dream? "This is a dream?"
Stiles frowned. "Yeah. What else would it be?"
Shrugging, Derek replied haltingly, "I thought... I thought I was in prison
somewhere. For what I've done to you. It's all a bit fuzzy."
"Derek, you're in no prison. You created this place yourself," Stiles explained
slowly, almost as if he was talking to a lunatic.
It made sense, though, that it was a dream. Derek didn't remember going to
prison or putting on these shabby clothes but his conscious must have figured
that this was where Derek belonged. The last thing he could remember before
obviously falling asleep and waking up here was lying on his bed in his
parents' house, hating himself for what he had done to his mate. His mate who'd
obviously decided to at least hear his side of the story since he'd come to
him. It was the only explanation for why he had his mate by his side again. He
was so relieved! Maybe he could set things right between them again and
convince Stiles to give him another chance.
"Come on, get up! Let's go somewhere else." Stiles stood up and motioned for
Derek to follow his example.
Not wanting to disgruntle his mate, Derek obeyed quickly and looked on as
Stiles designed a new dreamscape around them. When the world settled around him
he found himself sitting opposite of his mate in one of the booths of Stiles'
favorite diner, the one with the curly fries. Derek recognized the place since
Stiles had usually taken Derek as his dog with him when he and the Sheriff had
gone there for dinner. Luckily, Stiles had designed him some other clothes as
well. He was embarrassed enough about the sight he'd presented his mate with in
his dream prison.
Obviously, Stiles had chosen a place he liked and felt comfortable at for their
talk. Derek hoped that boded well. Since Stiles clearly didn't take the
initiative, Derek figured that he had to bite the bullet. He was a nervous
wreck. No messing it up this time. He cleared his throat to buy some time
before blurting out the first thing that came to his mind, "So, um, you came?"
Internally wincing, he just hoped Stiles wouldn't dump his sorry ass here and
find himself someone better versed in conversation after this lame start.
"To save your life, asshole," Stiles retorted, somehow managing to sound both
worried and mad at him.
Derek didn't understand. "To save my life?" That didn't make sense. If he was
dreaming, then what did he need saving from?
"You're in a coma."
Stiles' words felt as if someone had dumped an ice bucket over his head. "In a
coma?"
Stiles nodded carefully.
No. Stiles must be wrong. He couldn't be in a coma. Werewolves had supernatural
healing. They didn't just go into a coma, only if they were injured so badly
that the body needed all the energy for the healing. Or, his mind supplied, as
a result of telepathic separation, but only if the werewolf was fully bonded to
their mate. Since it couldn't be the latter, that left him with the severely
wounded theory. He'd been in his parents' house when it must have happened.
Derek's breath stopped when he became aware of the implications. Oh God, had
hunters attacked them? Were the others okay? "My family! Did somebody...
What..."
"They're fine, Derek, calm down," Stiles reassured immediately. "They're just
worried sick about you."
Derek felt immense relief wash over him upon hearing that his family wasn't
hurt. Thank God! He didn't known what he'd have done if something had happened
to them. However, he still had no plausible explanation for his current
condition. "Then why am I in a coma?"
"Apparently, our bond is already almost as strong as in a fully bonded pair,"
Stiles merely said without further elaboration, his expression neutral and
unreadable.
Derek was stunned speechless. How was that even possible? Even in fully bonded
couples this almost never happened. How could it happen to Derek when they
hadn't even completed their bond yet? And if it could happen to Derek, did that
mean Stiles could lapse into a coma, too? Oh fuck, what if he already had?
"God! Stiles, are you..., too?" He couldn't even give voice to his fear.
"No, but last week was no walk in the park for me either," Stiles grumbled with
a sour look.
"I couldn't have felt more like shit if somebody had put me through the meat
grinder. Might've had something to do with the fucking king of headaches
holding court in my head, not to mention the part of my week where I
continuously and silently freaked out about freaking werewolves and mystical
bonds."
"I'm sorry, Stiles, for everything. I'm so so sorry." Derek deflated, all
energy draining out of him. He was relieved that Stiles hadn't gone into a coma
as well and full of self-loathing, because his mate had been suffering because
of him, again.
"Yeah, well, you should be," Stiles snapped, seething. "I mean, what the hell
is wrong with you? What were you thinking when you decided to enter my life -
if you were thinking at all, huh? 'Oh, maybe it's a good idea to pretend to be
a harmless dog and live with my potential mate and spy on him while fucking him
in our shared dreams and leaving him in the dark about fucking everything!' I
don't even know what to feel anymore." He shook his head slowly. "I feel
betrayed, Derek, used, ashamed of what we did, what you did to me in my dreams.
They were my dreams, Derek, they were personal and you had no right to invade
my privacy without asking me and telling me about all this supernatural crap,
you gigantic creeper!"
Derek paled. He'd had no idea, absolutely none, that this was how his mate felt
about their shared experiences. It made him sick to the stomach. When put like
that he really did sound like a total psycho. Maybe he should have put himself
in Stiles' shoes and consider his side of the medal before he let his fear of
losing Stiles by overwhelming him rule him. At the time, he'd honestly thought
it was the best course of action to make his mate learn to appreciate and like
both of his forms separately before confronting him with his werewolf heritage.
"I am so very very sorry, Stiles." He couldn't apologize enough times. "I
should have thought it through more thoroughly."
"Gee, you think?" Anger poured off of Stiles in waves.
Derek sighed, shoulders slumping. "I really thought I was doing the right thing
but clearly I couldn't have been more wrong. It's just... I've heard so much
about other werewolves driving their mates away by telling them everything
right after finding them. It happened to one of my uncles."
Derek shuddered. When he'd been old enough his parents had told him why they
hadn't seen uncle Will, his dad's brother, since Derek had been seven. It had
haunted Derek for years to come, still did. There was no doubt that it had had
an impact on how Derek had acted. It wasn't the right time, though, to tell
Stiles the story of his uncle's passing, not when Stiles' eyes shot daggers at
Derek.
"When it comes to our mates we're all instinct, not rational at all. That's no
excuse, I know, and I will apologize to you for what I've done for the rest of
my life if you let me. I just hope you'll be able to forgive me one day."
There was no response from Stiles besides a calculating look. It made Derek
twitchy. At the moment, he couldn't read the boy at all. Stealing himself, he
asked the one question that would decide if there was still hope. "Do you think
you could? Forgive me?"
The blank expression fell off Stiles' face, leaving him looking tired and
vulnerable. "I don't know, Derek. I honestly don't know."
Stiles' words were like a punch to the gut but Derek couldn't actually hold
them against him with the way the boy looked right then. Stiles was obviously
struggling with his emotions, anger, hurt, and insecurity warring on his
beautiful features. Derek hated himself for it. Just, why had Stiles sought him
out? The boy was clearly not ready to consider the possibility of a future for
them. "Why did you come here then, if you're still so mad at me?" At Stiles
exasperated look, Derek hastily added, "By rights, of course."
The sarcasm dripped from Stiles' next words. "Well, actually, Cora asked me
very kindly after school..."
Derek interrupted, enraged, "Cora dragged you here against your will? I made
them promise, all of them, to leave you alone."
"What were they supposed to do, huh, Derek? Stick by their word and let you
die?" Stiles sounded livid.
"At least, then I wouldn't have to face a life without you," Derek shot back,
equally furious. A life without Derek sounded like the better alternative for
Stiles, anyways. All Derek had brought to his mate's life so far was pain. He
was no suitable mate for Stiles. Maybe Stiles had been right and fate had
really just screwed them over. Maybe Derek should simply stay here and not come
back from his coma. His family would grief, sure, but they'd get over him. If
Stiles told them what he'd just told Derek, then their mourning would probably
be short-lived and they'd be glad to get rid of a sick creeper like him.
Stiles looked completely taken aback, his expression shifting between disbelief
and wrath. "No, you don't get to do this! You don't even get to say things like
that! You're not just going to give up, you hear me, mister?" Stiles paused,
breathing heavily. "You know what it would mean if you gave up now? That you've
given up on me, that I'm not worth fighting for."
"No!" Derek interjected, absolutely horrified about Stiles' utterly wrong
assumption. "No, Stiles, you're worth everything!"
"Then show me, for Christ's sake! Wake up and fight for me, Derek!" Stiles
demanded forcefully.
Derek was shocked speechless. Did Stiles mean it? Had Stiles really just given
him a second chance? "Is this... really what you want?"
"Yeah, yes, it is, Derek." Stiles visibly deflated after the words were out.
"Look, I want to see where this is going. Right now, you're at the very bottom
of my favorite people list. Actually, you're not even on it at the moment and
I'd love to kick your ass to the moon with no return ticket. But I don't want
to regret not at least giving it a shot. I don't want to wonder if I've thrown
away something potentially good in the heat of the moment."
It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted off Derek's shoulders. All
the tension that had built and built during their argument drained away and
left him feeling boneless. He couldn't believe his luck. Probably no one else
that Derek knew would have been so lenient with him. Stiles acted more mature
than his age would suggest and Derek felt immensely proud of him and grateful
towards whatever entity had decided to make them soulmates.
For a long moment, they simply watched each other across the table, both calmed
down after their fight. Derek was well aware that this was a turning point and
that he'd do anything to show Stiles that they could be good together. He
wouldn't screw it up again. "Thank you," he said in a reverent tone, still
amazed about his mate's courage to give them another shot.
"Don't think I'll just forgive and forget, Derek. It'll not be easy for you to
win my trust." Stiles looked dead serious.
"Believe me, I know and totally understand," Derek nodded solemnly. "I'll do
whatever it takes to prove to you that you can trust me."
"We'll only have the minimum telepathic contact required and it'll be at my
say. I'll be the one to decide when and how we connect," Stiles went on as if
discussing a business contract.
Which they sort of were Derek realized. Stiles was setting the rules for their
future relationship and Derek was one hundred percent on board with that since
he didn't want to make his mate uncomfortable by doing something he wasn't
ready for.
"Absolutely," Derek agreed wholeheartedly. "You call the shots. Whatever
happens, whatever becomes of us, is up to you."
The scrutinizing look Stiles gave him spoke volumes of the lack of trust on
Stiles' side. When it went on unbearably long Derek said in his most serious
voice, "Just you wait and see. I'll woo the hell out of you."
To Derek's relief, his deflection worked and even startled a short laugh out of
Stiles. "Right," Stiles snorted. "We'll see." Smirking slightly, he got up and
walked to the exit. "Come on. Time to rise and shine, wolfman."
Derek couldn't turn off the pleased smile as he followed Stiles. It really was
time to rise and shine. And maybe, maybe it would all work out alright in the
end.
The first two things Stiles noticed when he came to were one, he felt as stiff
as a board and two, the headaches and the weariness were gone. Ignoring the
stiffness in his joints and muscles, his general physical condition had much
improved. Huh, obviously, their little telepathic session hadn't only served to
wake Derek from his coma Stiles figured when he noticed movement next to him.
Slowly, Stiles sat upright and stretched before fixing his gaze on the werewolf
who was watching him fondly. Apparently, their connection had worked wonders
for him, too. At least, the guy didn't look like death warmed over anymore,
though he definitely looked in desperate need of a shower.
Even though Stiles would have appreciated a bit more time to come to grips with
everything he couldn't be too mad about having been thrown in at the deep end.
Not when he felt much lighter after their talk - and his little emotional
freak-out, admittedly. Of course, there was no guarantee he'd made the right
choice but the alternative hadn't felt right at all, so there was that. He
would just have to wait and see what lay ahead of them.
Before either of them could utter a single word a voice appeared from the
doorway. "Finally!" Stiles looked up just in time to witness Cora's eye roll.
"About damn time. Thought you two drama queens would never wake up." And
another eye roll. "Mom, dad! They're awake!" She then yelled and Stiles was
sure she only did it because she'd hoped to make him jump (she had) because
Stiles knew werewolves had superior hearing. What a brat.
Beside him, Derek growled lowly. He seemed to share the sentiment.
"Chop chop! Get up! You two spent the last two days just lying there, relaxing
or whatever," she merely went on, completely ignoring their irritated stares.
And what? The last two days? It was Sunday? How did that happen?
In the most gleeful tone Stiles had ever heard Cora added, "By the way, Stiles,
your dad is waiting downstairs with the rest of our family. He has looots of
questions. Come on, big brother, time to meet the Sheriff while you're not
sprouting fur." With that she bounded off, leaving one shocked werewolf and one
equally shocked human in her wake. Because what.
"What."
Chapter End Notes
     Almost at the end, guys. Only one more chapter to go. I hope you'll
     keep your eyes open for the end.
End Notes
     Author's notes 1: About the dubious consent warning: Stiles and Derek
     share dreams where they have sex but only Derek is aware that it's
     not just dreams. Stiles might give his consent in the dream but since
     he doesn't know that Derek is a real person and just as much there in
     their dreams as he himself, he is in no position to make an informed
     decision.
     Author's notes 2: To see the sources for the pics I used for my
     artwork, please just click on the following links: human!Derek,
     wolf!Derek, Stiles, sun, moon, hand_print, wolf_paw_print
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