Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/904037.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall/Lydia_Martin
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Lydia_Martin, Alan_Deaton, The_Sheriff
  Additional Tags:
      Amnesia, group_amnesia, werewolf_stuff, stupid_teenagers_make_mistakes
      that_maybe_end_up_being_a_good_thing?, Blow_Jobs, Mistaken_Identity,
      There's_a_plot_I_swear, this_isn't_just_porn, okay_it_might_be_mostly
      porn, Meh
  Series:
      Part 1 of Well_Shit,_What_Now?
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-29 Words: 4447
****** Tabula Rasa ******
by HeartOfTheMirror
Summary
     When a druid ritual goes wrong everyone loses their memories. As they
     struggle to stay alive they will make decisions that may drastically
     alter the way they see themselves should they remember who they
     really are.
Notes
     This is a bit different from anything I've done before so I hope you
     guys like it!
     Thanks to the amazing help and encouragement of my dear friend
     Moirai, I have managed to complete this fic in just about a week.
     Without her enthusiasm I'm not sure if I would have ever completed it
     or if I would have let those first few paragraphs sit around and
     collect dust.
See the end of the work for more notes
The branches of the great oak spread all-encompassing against the slowly
awakening sky. It took him a moment to blink past the confusion and groan
through a dull headache and cotton mouth, to realize that the world existed
outside of the scope of the great oak's boughs.
He touched his hand to his throbbing temple. His hair was short but still felt
shaggy when he ran his fingers through it. Was it supposed to be shorter?
He turned his head, pressing the side of his face in a cool pile of leaves. Off
to his right, a Mexican boy and a redheaded girl were laying on the ground,
cuddled together and fast asleep. Past his feet he could make out the vague
outline of two more bodies buried in shadows.
The snap of a branch and his whole body locked into stillness, high alert.
A growl and he was pushing up on his palms in the dirt and the sticks,
scrambling back on his elbows. Out of the shadows of the great oak a hulking
figure, red eyes glowing against the dim mid-morning light.
It sprang forward, a clawed hand curling in his t-shirt ripping five points of
warning through thin cotton and so close to vulnerable, sensitive skin. The
thing, the creature, loomed over him, baring its canine teeth rumbling low in
its chest, a constant reminder lest the boy in its grasp forget for a moment
and wonder if this thing had friendly intentions.
It started leaning in towards his vulnerable, exposed, easy to snap neck and
before he could think the boy's hand shot out to the creature's shoulder,
holding it at bay. Roaring like a deeply emotionally disturbed lion, the
thing's lip curled up, its nose scrunching in furry.
“Hey there big fella,” the boy said, his voice only shaking a little bit. He
gave the thing's massive muscled shoulder a couple little pats. “We're just
gonna calm down for a minute here, alright? We're just gonna have a nice calm
little chat in the middle of the woods... alone.” He swallowed thickly and the
thing's eyes darted down to his throat. It leaned in and the boy closed his
eyes. Nothing to do now but wait for the inevitable bloody end.
It sniffed him, little snuffles and wolf-whiskers tickling the boys neck as he
squirmed involuntarily under the attention and was pinned in place by gigantic
but apparently harmless claws.
Abruptly the thing went still, its head snapping to the right as the red-headed
girl stood up off the ground, brushing leaves from her expensive skirt.
“Oh don't mind me.” Her hands were only shaking a little bit. “Since it's
obviously not possible for this to be happening I'm going to assume I must
still dreaming. So you two can just scurry off or whatever. If this is my dream
I'm going to enjoy it.”
“This isn't a dream,” came a soft haggard voice from the dirt by the girl's
feet. The Mexican boy sat cross-legged clutching his head. “Or at least I don't
think so.” His jaw line was kind of uneven, but he looked like the kind of kid
that had a lot of things going for him.
The creature crouching between the boy's splayed legs shifted and pushed the
teenager behind him so that his furry, naked, rock fucking solid body shielded
him from the others.
The creature bared his teeth at the Mexican kid with a fresh wave of blinding
rage.
“Dude, I think that guy's a werewolf!” he exclaimed, springing to his feet. The
last two members of their party, two middle-aged men who hadn't yet come
'round, groaned and began moving, pushing themselves slowly to their feet. One
of them was a sheriff.
“Who are you people?” the sheriff asked groggily.
“We all need to remain calm,” The other man said. He was dark skinned with a
well-groomed goatee, wearing a blue polo and khakis.
“I'm with that guy,” Stiles said, pointing at the sheriff. “Who are you people?
Who am I? Where am I?” This round of questioning was met by a conspicuous
silence.
“In the woods,” the red-headed said with a sassy little smile.
“Thank you, that's very helpful, thank you.”
“Does anyone know how we got here or who we are?” the man in the polo asked.
Everyone looked around at each other in expectant silence.
“Alright, there's an easy way to solve this. IDs everyone,” the sheriff said.
He patted down his jeans, making his werewolf bodyguard tilt his head to the
side curiously but not take his eyes off of the others. When he finally fished
out his license he stared at it in horror for five full seconds. Not only was
the picture spaz-tastic but his name was absolutely unpronounceable. His school
ID said his name was “Stiles” which must have been some kind of nickname
because it bared no resemblance to the gibberish on his license, though the
last name was the same.
“Stiles Stilinski,” he said aloud. “I go to Beacon Hills high school and I'm
seventeen years old.”
“Hey, I go there too! Maybe we're friends or something? I'm Scott.” The
werewolf growled at the Mexican kid.
“I don't think he likes that idea,” Stiles said, patting his werewolf on the
shoulder. Scott looked kind of bummed.
“Well I don't know how I feel about werewolves, as a sheriff, but I'm going to
take a guess and say they're illegal. I can't just let some wild animal go
around mauling people every full moon, now can I?”
“Dude, I don't think the full moon has anything to do with it. I mean, look at
him- it's daylight and he's all wolfed out and not mauling anyone,” Stiles
said, feeling irritated and defensive of his werewolf.
"My name is Alan Deaton. My business cards say I'm a veterinarian."
"That can't be a coincidence- a veterinarian and a werewolf? You two must know
each other," Stiles guessed.
“Can we all get back to the important thing, which is that I still don't know
who I am? Apart from the sheriff's daughter,” the red-headed girl said.
“What?” Stiles and Scott said simultaneously.
“This jacket?” she said, plucking at the lapel. She was wearing the sheriff's
jacket. “I'm obviously not the kind of girl who would wear something like this
to accessorize. Concerned dads are always covering their daughters up. Clearly
he has an issue with the way I dress,” Lydia shot a challenging look at the
sheriff. “Or maybe it's just my boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend?” the sheriff asked.
“I woke up half sprawled on Scott. He's cute, he's built, we go to school
together.” She glanced down at Scott appraising while he looked delightedly
into space.
“I bet he rides a motorcycle. A fast one. I bet you hate his tattoo.”
“I'm not overly fond of it, no,” the sheriff said, eyeing Scott.
“Your boyfriend? Are you sure?” he asked, looking like a puppy who was being
told he was going to get a MilkBone.
“I think the pressing issue here is our collective amnesia. This doesn't bode
well with the fact that we're lost in the woods. We need to get back to
civilization and see if we can find help somewhere. A hospital, maybe,” Deaton
said.
“I'm with him,” Scott echoed.
“Well that's great guys, really top notch plan you've got there. One small
problem. Wolfman here is six-foot-something of naked man beast and he's been
crouching over my groin for fifteen minutes with no sign of letting me stand up
or like... leave.”
“You could just ask me,” a rough, disused voice said. When Stiles checked back
on his furry lap guest he found a jaw so chiseled it could probably cut paper,
manly stubble, and deeply annoyed bottomless dark eyes.
“My god you're attractive,” Stiles said in an ill-advised bout of incredulous
irrational anger at the universe. The man between his legs looked entirely too
pleased with himself, and entirely to human to be chillin' so close to Stiles's
family jewels without any kind of junk-coverage.
“You're my mate,” wolf-dude said, “of course you think I'm attractive.”
“Do you mean mate in like, the British sense or...”
“No,” the unspeakably hot werewolf said flatly. “We can't trust these people.
We're not going anywhere with them. Wolves that aren't pack can't be trusted.”
“Dude we don't have any memories. If we can't trust anyone, we're basically-
wait, you're saying you aren't the only werewolf here?”
“Doesn't matter. These woods feel familiar. I'm pretty sure I can get us back
to our territory without them following.” The werewolf continued to glare at
everyone else, who just seemed to be content to watch the free, if somewhat
bizarre, entertainment.
“Can we get back to this whole 'mates' thing because honestly, I'm really not
seeing it.”
“I am,” the sheriff said. “You two are practically an old married couple.”
“Hey, who asked you?” Stiles said, feeling supremely irritated.
“He's right. You have my scent all over you. You're drenched in my scent,” he
tall dark and enragingly handsome said as if this were spine-tinglingly
pleasing. “I woke up next to you. When I think about you I feel protective but
you're not part of my pack and you're not family. I would be able to tell.
We're obviously mates.”
“Dude, I don't even know your name!”
“Just call me Dale until we find out who I really am.”
“Dale?” Stiles said skeptically.
“Shut up,” Dale bit back.
“Married. Couple,” the sheriff chimed in with one of his signature smirks.
Stiles was privately glad that Dale looked as annoyed with the sheriff as he
did. He'd hate to have to be nice to that asshole just to make his boyfriend
happy. He didn't think he was the kind of boyfriend who would be happy to bite
his tongue to please his partner. Not long term, at least.
“We've all got questions,” Deaton said calmly. “We need to go somewhere safe,
or at least less exposed and-” he was interrupted by an arrow flying past the
sheriff's head and digging into a tree. All eyes turned to it just as it
exploded with a blinding flash of light.
Stiles was dazed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Clawed hands
grabbed him and dragged him to his feet, forcing him to run. Everything was
off-balance, they knocked into trees, scraped through vegetation, running
blind. Another arrow flew past, slicing open Dale's bicep before it dug in the
tree and exploded in another brilliant flash. They knew enough to turn their
heads away this time but Dale still seemed to be more affected than Stiles.
“They're hunting you!” Stiles realized.
“Need to get somewhere safe, need to hide,” Dale told him, letting Stiles guide
him around a thick maple tree as they ran. Dale went stiff, grunted then
lurched. With a thick chill of terror, Stiles knew that he'd been hit.
He dragged Dale in an erratic zigzag through the trees, hoping to throw off the
archer. A roar sounded from back the way they'd came and the arrows abruptly
stopped raining down on them. Stiles didn't slow down, he didn't look back.
Dale had to be seriously hurt or there was no way that Stiles would ever be
able to outrun him.
“Where do we go?” Stiles screamed over his shoulder. “Come on Dale, use your
super werewolf senses, where's our territory?”
“Go left,” Dale grunted. He guided Stiles through the woods for what felt like
hours until suddenly he yanked him to the side. Dale stuck his hand into a pile
of fallen leaves and branches and pulled up a trap door that Stiles's human
eyes could never have seen. They stumbled down the steps together, Dale
collapsing on the hard packed ground as Stiles turned to close the trap door
behind them.
There were three black arrows sticking out of Dale's back. “Oh my god, okay,
okay, what do I do Dale? Do I pull them out? Should I got for help?”
“No!” the werewolf pushed himself up to his hands and knees. “Don't leave. We
don't know what's out there we've got to stay here for the night and heal.
We'll try to get back to town in the morning. I don't think the hunters will
come after us in public.”
“What about the others?”
“There's nothing we can do for them now. Even if we could find them before the
hunters killed us, even if we can trust them... we have no idea what we're up
against. I'm not going to put you in danger for them. We should just stay here
and heal.”
“Speaking of healing, what should we do about these arrows. They don't look
exactly comfortable.”
“Pull them out,” Dale said through gritted teeth. Stiles took a deep breath and
stepped forward.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes!” Dale sounded frustrated, and Stiles couldn't really blame him. Stiles
gripped the first arrow with both hands.
“On the count of three. One, two,” Stiles stopped counting and yanked the arrow
out, trying to pull straight and not twist it in the process.
“Fucking shit!” Dale screamed.
“Alright, ready for number two?” Stiles asked, trying to keep his tone light
despite the fact that he was yanking arrows out of his naked werewolf boyfriend
in some kind of safe-house in the middle of the woods while they both had
amnesia and people were trying to kill them. Like, what is his life?
The next two arrows came out pretty quickly. Stiles took a moment to appreciate
the fact that they were titanium, lightweight and deadly. Whoever was after
them had resources. He was fairly certain that Dale wouldn't appreciate Stiles
watching as he panted and composed himself.
Stiles set down the arrows and looked around their shelter. It was dusty, dark
and oddly empty save for a charred dead tree in one corner. He turned to Dale,
who was sprawled totally unabashed in his nudity beneath the dead tree. Now
that he had time to look without fearing for his life he realized just how nice
the view was. The man before him was made of tight muscle, smooth pale skin,
with a trail of dark hair that lead to an impressive....mmm.
Stiles snapped his eyes up to Dale's, swallowing thickly, sure that his face
was tomato red. Dale was smirking at him, the bastard.
“Come here,” Dale said with a confident smile, leaning his back against the
blackened trunk and spreading his legs. Stiles felt his mouth fall open a
little as he walked over and sank to his knees. His heart was beating a
painfully quick staccato, and from the way Dale's smile broadened Stiles knew
he could hear it.
Dale reached out and grabbed the lapels of Stiles's open button down shirt and
pulled them down his shoulders, stripping it off and throwing it aside. Stiles
licked his lips, tensing as he self-consciously realized that, compared to the
werewolf, he probably wouldn't be much to look at when his t-shirt came off.
“Relax,” Dale whispered, letting his fingertips ghost over Stiles's wrists and
up his newly exposed arms. “We don't have to do anything if you don't want to.”
“And if I want to?” Stiles said, meeting his partner's rich dark eyes in a
clear challenge.
“Then we can do anything. Whatever you want,” Dale promised, letting his
fingertips work a path back down over the thin vulnerable skin on the crooks of
Stiles's arms, tracing along his veins back to his wrists, over his palms,
tracing down his fingers. Stiles's breath hitched as his fingertips brushed
over his partner's. Something so small, so simple, so staggeringly intimate and
erotic. “What do you want?” Dale asked.
“Anything,” Stiles breathed, painfully honest. “Anything, just keep touching
me.”
Strong hands held him on either side of his hips. Fingers pushed tentatively up
under the hem of his t-shirt, brushing against the warm skin there.
“Like this?” Dale teased.
“God, please, just please, for Christ's sake just-” Stiles was cut off as those
calloused hands skid up his torso, drawing his shirt with them. Dale leaned in
to kiss his bellybutton, sliding a warm wet tongue over it and making Stiles's
hips buck involuntarily.
Dale tore the shirt the rest of the way off and threw it aside. He drew the pad
of one finger over Stile's left nipple and Stiles found himself grabbing onto
Dale's shoulders just to stay upright. Who knew his body was so sensitive? God,
it was like he was a desperate virgin or something. Were desperate virgins so
easily affected by teeth playfully nibbling at their collarbones that they
panted like they'd just run a marathon? Probably.
Dale's hands slid around Stiles to cup his butt, giving it a firm squeeze and
teasing at the inseam with just enough pressure. He leaned back against the
tree trunk to undo Stiles's jeans and Stiles got his first look at Dale's
erection- straining against the air, flushed and glistening with precome.
Stiles licked his lips again subconsciously. Dale's eyes flicked between
Stiles's mouth and his own cock.
“You want to?” he asked. Stiles nodded, feeling a bit wobbly. He shuffled
backward on his knees, resting his forearms on the dirt under Dale's bent legs
and staring, wondering how he would fit the whole thing in his mouth. He
pressed his lips against the head, letting his eyes flick up to where his
partner was tense and enraptured, staring down at Stiles's mouth around his
dick with unblinking attention. Stiles gave an experimental little suck that
made Dale's leg twitch so he figured he was doing something right. He sank down
a little lower and opened his jaw wider to lave at the shaft with his tongue.
It was surprisingly intuitive to draw back and let the tip of his tongue run
over the glans and then sink back down, taking as much as he comfortably could,
which turned out to be most of it.
He kept on like this for a few more seconds before Dale suddenly let out a
strangled, “Enough!” and pulled him up, yanking him to Dale's lips and kissing
him aggressively, like he was claiming territory. His lips and jaw were a
little sore from attending to Dale's cock, but he couldn't say he minded in the
least.
Dale slipped his hand in Stiles's open jeans and took his erection in hand,
working him through the kiss. “Get those off,” he growled when they came up for
air, and Stiles quickly kicked off his sneakers, socks, jeans and boxers. He
spread himself out over Dale, hissing with pleasure as their cocks rubbed
together. Dale took them both in hand and jerked them together as they both
fucked into his fist.
“God, D... oh nnnnggghhh, uh, fuck, shit, fuck, fuck,” Stiles chanted.
“Mmm,” Dale's growling agreement rumbled in Stiles's ear, reverberated up
through his chest, sent him over the edge and suddenly he was coming blindingly
hard, noticing vaguely that Dale was following after him. He slumped back on
the sweaty pile of man beneath him, caught up in his partner's arms and totally
content to be a sticky mess with him. Dale ran a hand through Stiles's short-
ish hair and hummed a little.
Stiles reflected that being a werewolf's mate was really not so bad once you
got used to the idea.
...
“You're sure that all we have to do to get our memories back is meet under the
tree again under the moonlight?” Scott asked Deaton. Ever since they had
stumbled on their cars a few miles away and found Lydia's ID and a handwritten
book of rituals in an old Latin dialect that only she and Deaton could read,
they had been working on a game plan.
“That's what the ritual calls for, yes.”
“I don't know, it all feels a little too easy to me,” Scott replied.
“If it doesn't work we'll just have to try something else,” Lydia said. “I'm
not going to let a little fucked up magic spell take years of my life from me.
Not. Acceptable.”
“We've got to find the other two first and they could be lost anywhere in this
godforsaken forest,” the sheriff reminded them. The sun was beginning to set.
“Well we all know Scott's a werewolf so why don't we just have him sniff them
out or something,” Lydia suggested, her tone very much implying that it was a
terrible burden to be landed with people so slow.
“I knew my kid would have to be incredibly intelligent as well as incredibly
good looking,” the sheriff grinned. Lydia sidestepped away from him and let
Scott throw his arm around her.
“I don't know if I can pick up the scent after so much time has passed. I'm not
even sure I know what they smell like.” Scott looked apologetically at his
girlfriend.
“So howl,” she said as if it were the obvious next step.
“What?” Scott said.
“Wolves howl to attract the rest of their pack. If you howl, odds are Dale and
Stiles will come to us and we won't have to trample through the woods all night
looking for them.”
“Oh, wow, that's a great idea. I can't believe you're actually my girlfriend.”
Scott smiled like a dope. The sheriff rolled his eyes dramatically.
“I can,” Lydia said, pointedly undressing him with her eyes.
“So earlier when you two disappeared in the woods for two hours, what exactly
happened?” she sheriff asked. “Because I don't think it's that easy to get lost
looking for firewood.”
“Nothing,” Scott said immediately. Lydia just grinned and cocked her head to
the side, expression implying that she had a secret she wasn't telling.
…
“Put your clothes on,” Dale demanded, throwing Stiles's boxers at his face.
“Well good morning to you too,” Stiles grumped. “It's not exactly like I'm
hideous.” Dale rolled his eyes like it was his job.
“You're gorgeous. Even looking at your elbows makes me want to fuck you. Now
put your clothes on. Scott's calling us."
“You have a phone?” Stiles asked skeptically. “Where have you been keeping it?”
Dale gave him a patently unamused look.
“He's howling. He's a werewolf. He's calling me to meet him. Calling us
probably.”
“My best friend's a werewolf?” Stiles said in total shock.
“I doubt he's you best friend. He and I are both alphas. There's only one alpha
per pack. Maybe our territory borders each other, maybe we're enemies, I don't
know. This could be a trap.”
“But you think we should check it out anyway,” Stiles surmised.
“One way or another we're connected,” Dale said.
“I have a good feeling about Scott. I think he's an okay guy. One way or
another we'll have to take a chance on somebody. It might as well be him. I
mean, he's dating the sheriff's daughter for Christ's sake.” Dale shrugged.
...
As soon as Dale stepped into sight of the others, who were clustered under the
bough of the great oak, he had a feeling that he was about as safe as he was
ever going to be. Stiles was standing at his side, closer to the trunk of the
tree than he.
“We're going to get our memories back,” Scott said earnestly.
“How?” Dale asked.
“Any second now,” Scott said, looking around at the tree as if he expected it
to start glowing or something.
“Hey, what's this?” Stiles asked, reaching out to touch the five-fold knot
carved into the side of the tree. The second he made contact with it everyone
jerked like a string pulled taught and then collapsed on the ground. They
groaned and came to moments later.
Stiles sat up first, clutching his aching head. His first thought was,
“What the fuck is Peter doing in my dad's uniform?!”
“Relax brat,” Peter moaned. “He's fine. I needed the disguise. I'm sure you
remember my outstanding little misunderstanding with the hunters. Thanks to
tasks I had to perform to distract local law enforcement so that you and the
other wonder kids could defeat the alpha pack. You practically owe me your
life.”
“What, like you're expecting me to thank you now? Even if you claim it was
unintentional, you still killed someone Peter. You've killed a lot of people
actually, and we've been letting that slide but that doesn't mean I've
forgotten. You're a killer, and a liar and a heartless manipulative bastard.”
“Sorry,” Peter said, not sounding sorry at all.
“If I found out you've hurt my dad in any way I'll kill you. For real this
time.”
“Stiles,” Scott said, looking absolutely confused. “Why do you smell like....
oh.” Scott and Stiles both immediately turned red and looked away from each
other. Well, that was awkward.
Since no one seemed to want to fill the silence, Stiles let the hazy memories
from just before the accident swim back to him. The alpha pack torched the
Nemeton hoping to swat the Darach aside and use the added strife brought on
Beacon Hills to pressure Derek and Scott into doing their bidding.
Scott and Stiles convinced Derek, Issac and the others to attack as a unified
front and together they had created and executed a plan to bring down the Alpha
pack while minimizing the damage to the town. However, all was not kittens and
roses even with the newest round of homicidal maniacs in the ground. After
helping Scott defeat the alpha pack once and for all, Derek had been stuck in
the form of a wolf. A large, beautiful black wolf, but a wolf all the same.
Deacon knew of a spell that could help him regain his human form, but first,
they had to consecrate a new Nemeton, which had been a tricky business,
involving rabbits and dancing, which Stiles would rather not think about even
now. The spell required a human to hold him still inside the mountain ash
circle, and as Allison was honor bound to her new-found hunt-mates to report
Peter on sight, Stiles had been selected for the job.
Lydia had left her jacket in the car. Peter had offered her his- she'd only
accepted because technically it was the sheriff’s and not Peters. Something had
gone wrong, there was a flash of light, Scott had jumped in front of Lydia to
cover her but it didn't matter.
Stiles risked a glance at Derek, trying to gauge his reaction. When he looked
away a half a second later he realized that he'd only given himself enough time
to be certain of one thing.
Yeah, Derek was still naked.
End Notes
     I'm really kind of nervous about posting this because it's the most
     sexually explicit thing I've written so far :/
     I've been toying with an idea for a sequel but I think I'll hold off
     until I feel really solid about this one, if ever.
     I hope you guys enjoyed it anyway! Comments, kudos, questions,
     suggestions and reviews are always welcome!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!