Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11534190.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Lydia_Martin/
      Jackson_Whittemore, Allison_Argent/Scott_McCall, Isaac_Lahey/Scott
      McCall, Stiles_Stilinski/Jackson_Whittemore
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Peter_Hale, Scott_McCall, Allison_Argent,
      Lydia_Martin, Jackson_Whittemore
  Additional Tags:
      True_Blood_AU
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-18 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2287
****** Fullmoon ******
by Cinder_Dargor
Summary
     Meeting a real werewolf has become Stiles Stilinski´s biggest desire
     since the day these creatures went to televisions around the world to
     show that they were real and thanks to Fullmoon, a drink made by
     Japanese scientists, they are unable to cause any harm to humans.
     Stiles was about to leave Beacon Hills to search for one of these
     beings, until Derek Hale crosses the doors of Whittemore's.
     Yes, it's a True Blood AU
Notes
     Basically the a union between two series that I love... I took the
     name Fullmoon from a song by Sonata Arctica.
     Hope that you like it!
See the end of the work for more notes
It seemed to be another one of those nights when the wind noise and the
gathering of a few drops of rain with the ground would be the height of the
bustle in Beacon Hills. This, of course, without regard to the mind of Stiles
Stilinski, the seventeen-year-old boy who, in addition to his rapid and nervous
thoughts, could no longer control his telepathic abilities and ended up
listening to some considerations here and there. None of this would happen, of
course, if he had not decided, once again, to embark on a reading about
werewolves last night, making his exhaustion at the moment more than his self-
control.
 
‘’STILINSKI!’’ A howl of hatred echoes through the little bar.
 
An athletic-looking blonde figure stands in front of the brunette, who just
prays that the nervousness will not make him knock down the trays.
 
‘’Jackson.’’ Stiles mutters, smiling and shaking.
The classmate, who at that moment assumed the role of boss returns the same
smile and begins to throw a river of complaints at the waiter. At first, Stiles
tries to focus on the rosy lips that move with speed and shoot the hurtful
words, however, in a lapse of carelessness, he invades the mental privacy of
his boss.
 
‘’This is the third time this week that someone complains about your services,
I do not know why my parents insist on keeping you here!’’ Jackson shouts, in a
clear sentence that ends up taking the smallest out of his mind. "Either you
get better or I'll castrate your little piece of shit, are we clear?"
 
Stiles nods. He understood that customers were not satisfied with his work and
that Jackson was going to try to have sex with Lydia in his imported car in the
way back home. And that, of course, was the worst part of his gift. The truth
that was tied to him. This whole Lydia and Jackson thing was driving him crazy,
thanks to the remnants of his crush on the girl ... Another reason to lock
himself in his bedroom and spend hours reading about the werewolves.
 
He remembered, oh yeah, that night when he and his best friend, Scott, returned
from school and were bombarded by a television that advertised in hysteria that
werewolves were real. Stiles could still see himself in that room, he could
feel Scott's hands gripping his shoulders, he could stare the disbelief in his
eyes. Japanese scientists discover a formula capable of inhibiting the
transformation of werewolves during the full moon, thereby healing all the
dangers that once forced this supernatural species to hide in the shadows and
live in silence. Yes, it had been the best headline that television had ever
announced in its history, Stiles doubted that something so wonderful could
happen again.
And since then, he dreams of the great moment. The one where he could meet a
real werewolf. More than seven years ago, the world was graced with the escape
of those creatures from the twilight, yet Beacon Hills had never been gifted
with the presence of a miserable werewolf. A setback? Perhaps, it did not
matter much, because Stiles knew that he would find a were lost there, and, for
the first time, he would not be the only freak in a place… And that will be ...
The best thing that ever happened in his life.
The gift of reading minds. That's how his parents liked to call. But the rest
of the city would rather use it as a proof that Stiles was either a big liar or
a freak. The boy did not understand why he had received this ability ...
Unusual ... After all, he had already been decorated with a leaner and more
childlike body than the other boys ... There were the freckles and his
impulsive way made him talk more than he should ... He knew he could use that
in his favor, as he had often done, yet he would give everything to be a normal
teenager.
 
The short-haired and dark-haired boy had just served the desk of the stupid
coach Finstock when a stranger passed the front door. The air went out. Stiles
bowed his head to try to recognize the man in vain. He was supposed to be
living the better part of his twenties. Stiles felt his legs tremble with such
beauty and he just could not move or stop staring at him.
 
The mysterious man was dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket. While he
strolled through the place, alone, his body moved in a way ... Absurdly sexy.
Surely he was the star of that little restaurant covered in noisy wood and
working reliant on mahogany tables that seemed to want to break in half. A
chill ran down the spine of the Stilinski, it was in those kind of moments that
he hated being a damned virgin who was full of hormones. Tanned skin, hair and
beard black as feathers of a raven ... A body, by what the clothes showed, that
make Jackson and his gym seem like a big joke.
Finally, after a scene that seemed eternal, the man settles in a chair that
leaves him near a small window and not far from Stiles. His hands slide down
his dark strands, he spends about five seconds analyzing the place, until his
eyes fall on the poor waiter quivering next to him. It is at this moment that
the lines of expression that already showed certain rigidity should open in a
large smile, but the stranger keeps his face serious, calling for Stiles with a
slight nod.
Paler than usual and still weak, Stiles addresses the new client, ready to try
to listen to some of his thoughts during the process ... It would be things
easier for his process of relieving himself while thinking about this stranger
later. However, all his attempts to rape the man's privacy are in vain ... It
was as if he were a large pit containing only one carcass. Even frustrated with
his failure, Stiles lightly touches the older man's desk and casts a small
smile on his side.
 
"Will not you bring me the menu?" The client asks with a slight arch of
eyebrows.
 
Stiles grunts in frustration and pulls the menu out of his apron´s pocket. Now,
looking at those clothes that only stood out the beauty of that man was that
Stiles could notice how the set of torn pants, polo shirt and a battered apron
made him even more ridiculous. He mentally thanks Whittemore's for contributing
to make his life increasingly miserable.
"You will not want to eat the meat, you know. I mean, not that our cook, Danny,
is not good at what he does .... But, is that always the same piece of shit and
.... Well, you're a new customer here ... It's not a good impression of our
diner.’’ He says eagerly, trying to get the council back so it does not sound
so disastrous. "Coming from far away? It's been a while since I've seen anyone
new in Beacon Hills ... Not that there's anything very interesting around here,
but I always create great expectations ...’’
 
 
The man just blinks twice, as if he's not being able to keep up with what he's
being told.
 
"I thought the same about my city when I was your age.’’ The low, husky voice
of the stranger cuts Stiles. "I thank you for your honesty, Stilinski, but I
can not deny to my stomach a good piece of steak ..." he completes, keeping his
posture serious and reading the name that is embroidered on Stiles's apron.
 
 
"You can call me Stiles." The boy says, without thinking too much. "Believe me,
grumpy, the steak comes swimming in blood and-"
 
 
‘’Grumpy?’’ He asks, managing frown even more.
 
"Well ... I ..." Stiles whispers as he screams all the bad words he knows in
his mind ... He and his big mouth.
 
 
‘’ My name is Derek Hale.’’ The stranger introduces himself with an acid smile.
"And yes, Stiles, I'm going to want some bad old-fashioned steak, made by your
friend Danny, okay?" The tone of voice gains strength as each word is uttered.
 
 
Stiles swallows hard.
 
"Very well, Derek ... And will you want anything else?" Stiles asks, trying to
redeem himself with the client.
 
 
‘’A bottle of Fullmoon.’’ Derek says in an almost inaudible tone, lowering his
head.
 
Stiles widens his eyes, he feels the absurd need to scream and his heart races.
Of course, the Whittemores bought some bottles of the magic liquid made for the
werewolves a while ago ... However, deep down, no one was waiting for someone
to show up to drink it.
 
‘’Anything? Like rice or…’’ Stiles asks, trying to come back to reality ... It
was not possible ...
 
‘’Just the steak and the bottle of Fullmoon.’’ Derek repeats, without raising
his face to look at the waiter.
 
"Are you sure that you want Fullmoon? I have friends who tried to drink it
because it takes some alcohol, but really you have to be a werewolf to do it
without throwing up.’’
 
Calmly, Derek looks up, leaving Stiles face to face with the most beautiful
pair of blue eyes he had ever seen. Derek Hale was definitely a werewolf.
 
‘’Yes. ‘’He grunts firmly, almost as an unspoken request to be left alone.
 
 
Stiles does not even note the request, just walks into the kitchen while
looking for Scott with despair.
 
He had met a werewolf. The werewolf of his fucking life, perhaps! And, perhaps,
he'd spoiled everything by calling him grumpy ... He wanted to scream, hit
someone or cry all night.
 
"A raw piece of meat without anything and a bottle of Fullmoon for table 8." He
practically howls in the small kitchen that was slightly damp, catching the
attention of cook Danny Mahealani and his almost brother Scott McCall.
 
 
"Every night a different freak in this place ..." Danny grunts, continuing to
fry potatoes.
 
But Scott, the kitchen assistant, drops the onions he was cutting and runs to
Stiles, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him lightly.
 
"Is it really a werewolf?" He asks nervously.
 
"I saw his eyes, Scott.’’ Stiles murmurs, in a happiness it does not fit in
him.
 
Scott stops and tries to assimilate that.
 
‘’But, take it easy, okay? I know how you feel ... With the mind reading thing
but you do not need a dumb wolf to make you feel better ... People are much
more than humans, telepaths or werewolves.’’
 
"It's not like I'm going to throw myself on his lap.’’ Stiles complains, even
so he pulls his friend in a hug. "Oh, and no, I can not read his thoughts.’’
 
‘’What?’’ Scott exalts himself, releasing his companion immediately.
 
"It must be some power of theirs that I've never heard of ... But it's a
feeling of great comfort.’’
Scott nods and Stiles leans against the grubby kitchen wall. Well, it would be
comfortable enough to talk to a person who did not force Stiles to control his
telepathic impulses all the time ... Too bad his body decided to feel an
uncontrollable desire for the only person with that trait in miles. Damn
hormones. If he were straight ... Well, Stilinski reflects, if he really was
straight he would not feel anything for Hale ... But, it would really be a big
loss to his mouth, not feel a werewolf inside ...
 
‘’Here, Stiles.’’ Danny announces, putting what he called food in a plate.
 
Stiles takes a deep breath, puts the plate and the bottle on the tray, and
returns to Whittemore's hall, where he knew Jackson must be snorting like a
bull in revolt because of the time Stiles has wasted in the kitchen.
The approximately 500 ml bottle was transparent as vodka and had a wolf howling
at the moon drawn on its sides. A simple object, but that could be the key to
Stiles's happiness.
 
‘’Hello, Derek. I brought your request here’’ Stiles says, serving the table
with his hands shaking.
‘’Do all the people who work here make a point of trying to sleep with the
costumers? Or am I really a lucky one?’’ Derek shoots in a sea of sarcasm.
 
Stiles frowns, wondering when it was that he let his desires pass through Derek
Hale. But the wolf points to his colleagues Crystal Black and Helena Harris.
 
"Oh." Stiles smiles. "It's new meat in Beacon Hills, Derek ... You know what
small towns are like ... You came from one, yes? By the way, you did not say
where you were from ...’’
 
"You smell strange." Derek cuts him off one more time.
 
"Well, a long time coming in and out of the kitchen from what I would ever call
a five-star restaurant… You could ask Jackson for a job, I bet you would love
smell like me’’ Stiles answers, slightly offended.
 
Derek glares at Stiles with his eyes, as if he was telling him that he knew he
was hiding something. In fact, that chatty waiter had puzzled Hale. Stiles
wanted to stay there, keep talking, or at least try to keep a conversation with
that fascinating being, but Jackson dragged him into his service.
 
Time went by so fast. Suddenly it was time to close and Stiles had taken the
last order. As he turned to table eight, looking for Derek, he realized that
the were had already left the establishment, leaving the young man quite
disappointed. Not that he expected Derek to wait for him with flowers and
chocolates, but he was expecting that at least he could still look at him one
last time.
 
Stiles sighs, feeling all the magic of the night broken. It was too good to be
true. He wonders when he will be able to see a werewolf again.
End Notes
     So? Should I keep going? BTW, English is not my native language, so
     I´m sorry for any possible mistake
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