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“This is a terrible fucking idea.” Stiles muttered, walking as quietly as possible alongside Derek, as they made their way through the abandoned mall. Stiles flinching every now and then as he walked through cobwebs.
“Stiles, you are the one that told me you could feel a magic trail throughout the whole preserve and now you think it’s a terrible idea to investigate? Jesus I just can’t win with you.” Derek snapped back, trying to keep his voice low. Eyes flicking between his red alpha eyes and his usual green.
“Yeah, investigate, like, wait till daytime and have everyone involved so we don’t risk getting mauled by a psycho witch that was so obviously leading us here.” Stiles snarled back, angrily whispering. The near perfect trail through the trees and into the building rubbing him the wrong way
“Well you could have fucking stayed at the loft.” Derek retorted as they slowly crept forward, senses on alert trying to find the witch.
“Yeah sure, let’s have you go off on your own again so some psycho can kidnap and torture you and I’d be stuck tracking you myself when all the puppies would inevitably have terrible plans and end up not doing anything quick enough.” Stiles snapped, voice getting dangerously louder the angrier he got.
“Hi boys.” A female voice said softly next to them, causing them both to flinch, Derek shifting and Stiles tightening his grip on his bat.
“What are you doing here?” Derek snarled out, but the young girl seemed unphased. Stiles noted that she was easily their age, and for a witch, was probably incredibly inexperienced, making her very dangerous. Uncontrolled magic was, in short, not good. In his peripherals, Stiles watched as Derek’s brows scrunched in confusion as he analysed her scent, but she was speaking again before Stiles could ask anything.
“Have a fun day you two.”
Stiles had just enough time to question how genuine and earnest she sounded as everything faded to black.
Stiles smushed his face into his pillow as he slowly woke up, the morning sun filtering in through the curtains slowly waking him up. The weight next to him in the bed was comforting, as was the soft bedding and silky material he was surrounded by, up until he registered that none of those things were normal for his life and opened his eyes in a blind panic. Face inches from Derek’s, who seemed to be panicking about the same amount as him.
“The witch.” Derek snarled as the both sat up very quickly, pushing themselves away from each other slightly as they did. Stiles had just enough time to register the expensive bedding and sheer size of the king bed they were in when he did a double take, looking back to Derek who was looking around the room, trying to catch a scent.
“Are you wearing silk pyjamas?” Stiles asked, voice almost accusatory, despite the fact that he could already see, that yes, Derek was in fact wearing silk pyjamas. Navy blue with white trims, and an intricate ‘D H’ embroidered onto the sleeve. Stiles thought if he ever saw Derek in anything other than his usual gloomy wardrobe it would be great, it actually just looked really, really wrong.
Derek looked down at himself with equal disgust, before he looked over to Stiles, eyebrows raised in judgement.
“So are you.”
Stiles looked down. Not only was he also in silk pyjamas, he was in matching navy and white silk pyjamas. His mind getting stuck on the embroidered ‘M H’. Derek’s were clearly his initials, but even if Stiles were to go by his real name, his last name certainly didn’t start with an H.
“So, what do you think this is?” Derek asked, voice low, both of them trying to stay calm as they figured out the situation.
“I dunno,” Stiles said, looking around the room, “could be a range of things, illusion maybe, alternate reality, dreamscape.” Stiles said softly, looking over to the bedside table, where his heart preceded to stop in shock and fear and confusion. As he reached over for the picture frame, he didn’t register Derek’s shocked gasp, who had looked down to count his fingers; the easiest way to determine if they were dreaming.
“I’m wearing a wedding ring.” Derek stuttered out, sounding mildly like he was holding back from throwing up.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” Stiles said, showing Derek the black and white photo, holding it in his left hand, which was sporting a matching silver ring to the one on Derek’s left hand.
Really, it was a beautiful photo, the two men in very expensive looking, extremely well-tailored suits. Kissing, but laughing at the same time, their happy grins forcing their kiss to be more just a press of their mouths. It’s a beautiful candid shot. Of them.
Of Stiles and Derek.
In a tacky looking pinterest mum frame that says ‘just married’ along the bottom in a cursive font.
It felt… wrong.
“Well, we can rule out dreamscape. I bet illusion.” Derek said, awkwardly climbing out the bed, making Stiles wonder when the last time Derek had something as nice as a good bed was, a wave of sadness passing over him at thought. Not going unnoticed by Derek, who turned to look at him in his sudden shift in emotions.
“Well then I bet alternate reality.” Stiles said, just to be petty, when honestly, he really had no clue.
“It’s smells weird in here, I almost recognise it.” Derek mumbled out. They searched through the wardrobe for clothes, but found camping gear, linen and some boxes instead.
“Spare room, maybe?” Stiles asked, as they noticed the two designer suitcases at the foot of the bed. Neither of the clothes were in either of their styles, but it was close enough they could figure out who’s was who’s. Derek ended up in some light wash jeans, a dark grey long sleeve top and tan boots, and Stiles ended up in a forest green short sleeve top and navy jeans, and, horrifyingly, matching tan boots. Both of them too disorientated and distracted to register the lack of tattoos up Stiles’ arms.
“In what fucking universe would someone spend this much money on a suitcase?” Stiles asked, after they discovered his still had the tag on it, a glaring $5000 marked as the price.
“I have no idea.”
They jumped when someone knocked on the door, Derek having been too distracted to notice that the room was sound and smell proof, he had no clue who, and how many people, were in the house they were in. Both boys began to back up, away from the door as much as they could, putting the bed between them.
“Are you boys awake, you’re usually such morning people.” The woman said as she began to open the door, Stiles was just about to make a comment about never being a morning person in his life, when he registered who he was looking at. One very alive Talia Hale.
“Mum?” Derek asked, voice shaky and quiet. Usually blank face scared and shocked. Stiles’ face sharing a similar expression.
“Last I checked,” she replied with a laugh, before looking at them with confusion, “are you two okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She asked, genuine concern on her face. Derek let out what could only be described as a painful whine at her words.
“I’m gonna fucking kill that witch.” Stiles muttered. Reaching a hand back to wrap around Derek’s wrist, trying to stave off what felt like an inevitable panic attack for Derek. Stiles noticed her surprised expression at the act and wondered what kind of husbands they must be if a comforting touch is a surprise.
“Hey, you know the rules, no swearing in the house when all the kids can hear you, now, witch? You mean the lovely young girl that you’ve been rude to all week? I know you two don’t exactly like her, but she’s been very kind, so, whatever you think she did, I’m sure we can sort it out. She’s staying in that new hotel only a few minutes’ drive away.” Talia said, every bit Hale and alpha werewolf that Stiles had grown to imagine her being like.
“Uh, Mrs. Hale,” Stiles started saying, knowing he wasn’t going to get a word out of Derek, but being even more confused when Talia looked angry at her using last name, “I think we might have a situation.”
“Sweetheart, you have known me for how many years now? You know its Talia to you.” Talia said, still looking at them in confusion.
“That’s the thing, Mrs. Hale,” Stiles continued on, ignoring her unimpressed expression, “I don’t know you, at all, and I certainly haven’t known you for years.”
“You’re telling the truth.” Talia mumbled, almost to herself, taking a step into the room and shutting the door, blocking anyone from hearing their conversations. She simply looked at Stiles, eyebrows raised, clearly asking for an explanation, and Stiles felt tears prick at his eyes, knowing it was the exact same expression Derek has nearly every time they were around each other.
“Um, last night, Derek and I noticed a magic trail in the preserve, and we followed it to an abandoned mall, found a witch there who, well, sent us here, I guess. Basically, I don’t know you, I don’t entirely know where we are, we most definitely don’t have the kind of money that your version of us seems to have. Our best bet is that we’re in an alternate reality, and that we’ve swapped with them.” Stiles explained gesturing to the wedding photo that still sat on the bed, thankful to hear Derek’s breathing get back to something close to regular.
“Oh god, okay well, I’ll kick the children out for the day, because I get the feeling we’ll all be swearing a bit, and I’ll call in the pack, you guys can explain everything and we’ll try and figure it out alright?” She asked, but suddenly the door was opening again.
“Ah, my favourite boys are finally awake… what?” Peter asked, clearly confused at Stiles and Derek’s horrified expressions.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Stiles asked, Talia quickly shutting the door so no one could hear them once again.
“What do you mean, these are my golf clothes.” Peter asked, looking down at what he was wearing, white pants, a pale blue polo and knit vest with pale yellow and green diamonds on it.
“Golf.” Derek spluttered out.
“Yes, golf.” Peter said back, eyes looking over to Talia, then back to the two of them.
“Peter, plays golf?” Stiles asked Derek, looking over at the wolf next to him.
“Yes, I play golf, what’s going on?” Peter asked, looking at Talia who had been getting progressively more nervous with every word spoken.
“I’m never letting him live this down.” Stiles muttered to Derek, who hummed back in agreeance, eyes still never leaving his mother and uncle.
“Peter, it appears we have a situation, these aren’t our boys, we think the witch might have done a reality swap, or, something, and well, they don’t know me but they know you, can you head downstairs and kick the kids out, I don’t want them to hear any vulgar language, and I’ll round up the troops.” Talia said to Peter, who looked over at them, but then nodded and headed back out the room.
“I’m just going to go downstairs and start getting everyone here, maybe call in some extra help too, come downstairs when you are ready.” Talia said, looking at them with an unreadable expression before she walked out the room and shut the door behind her.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Derek said, moving to sit on the bed, looking up and blinking away tears.
“Well, I was right, it’s an alternate reality.” Stiles said, still not letting go of Derek’s wrist, knowing it would be harder for the alpha then for himself.
“How do you know?” Derek asked, finally looking back to Stiles.
“Well, we knew it wasn’t a dream because we counted our fingers, and I mean, I could read the words on the photo frame, which wouldn’t be possible in a dream. And if it was an illusion, they wouldn’t believe us.” Stiles explained.
“I don’t think I can go downstairs.” Derek said, voice wavering.
“I know, but I can’t fix this. I don’t know how.” Stiles said, sympathetic, and scared.
“You were right, we shouldn’t have gone after the witch.” Derek said, looking down in his lap.
“Always am.” Stiles said with a small smile, squeezing Derek’s wrist, making sure he knew that he didn’t actually blame him for the situation they’re in.
“I’ll do all the talking yeah?” Stiles asked, getting a weak nod in return, “besides, I’m pretty sure your mum is calling in Deaton, maybe he’s actually fucking helpful here.” Stiles said, grinning when Derek snorted a laugh out.
They made their way downstairs, Derek having to pause right outside the door at the scents that overwhelmed him. Derek steered Stiles downstairs and to what Stiles realised was the kitchen and dining area, knowing that’s where everyone was, but Stiles walked in front of him, trying to act like a shield. They were in the Hale house, there were add-ons, perhaps as the family grew, but Stiles could recognise enough of it to know where he was.
If either of them had been with it enough to bother looking at the photos on the walls, the occupants of the house may have been less surprising.
When Stiles could start to hear voices, Derek gripped his wrist, and by the time they walked into where everyone was, Stiles was pretty sure his hand was going numb, but he didn’t mind, it was the least he could do.
Before Stiles could really register just who was standing around them, he noticed the disdain they all looked at he and Derek with, at first he thought it must have been whatever Talia told them, but the longer he stared the more he thought that maybe they just didn’t like their version of Derek and Stiles.
Then of course, he realised who the fuck he was looking at, the last person his eyes had landed on, the girl in front of him. He couldn’t help but stare at her waist, after all, the last time he’d seen there had only been half of her.
“Stop staring at my stomach, despite your asshole comments yesterday, I’m not pregnant.” Laura snapped at him, his gaze snapping back to her face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t, I don’t, I don’t think you’re pregnant.” Stiles stuttered out, glad she could at least tell he wasn’t lying, her expression the exact same shocked face Derek gets when Stiles doesn’t lie about something.
Stiles was sure the waves of anxiety, and sadness, and guilt and god knows what else was rolling of him and Derek must have been near assaulting the wolves noses.
“Oh god, you were telling the truth.” Laura said, flicking her eyes over to Talia, who tersely nodded.
“Why don’t you boys take a seat.” Talia said, nodding to two seats at the end of the dining table, pulling out a chair for herself at the other end. Everyone sat down, and Stiles saw Derek look behind him in his peripherals, their backs were to the front door, exposed.
Stiles looked around, he recognised everyone, even though a lot of them were far older than any photos he had seen. Derek’s two younger twin brothers, Johnathan and Elliot, Peter and his wife Lacey, Derek’s father Richard who was sitting at the head of the table next to Talia, Laura, Cora and her twin sister Leah, the sudden memory of Cora having a twin hitting him like a freight train. Still standing, leaning back against the kitchen counters were Derek’s other uncle Joshua, and his wife Sally, both of whom were in deputy uniforms, as was Derek’s father.
“So, you boys want to start explaining.” Derek’s father said.
“This is an alternate reality. Not our own. Our own is very different, a lot of you, uh, aren’t here, for us, and the life situations is clearly very different, your version of us clearly live very, very different lives and-”
Stiles was interrupted by the front door opening, Derek turned to look, and somehow, tensed more, but Stiles didn’t need to turn around, he’d recognise that voice anywhere.
“Sorry we’re late, but well, why would we give a shit about asshole one and two? So what, they got swapped with them from another universe or whatever, serves them ri-ght” Erica said stuttering towards the end as she actually takes note of them, her and Boyd walking past them to stand next to Joshua and Sally, Boyd also in a deputy uniform.
Stiles can’t help the tear that falls down his cheek, and he can see in his peripheral Derek squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the same thing.
“H-hey Erica, hi Boyd.” Stiles said, voice wavering as he wiped his cheek. Erica awkwardly waved back at him in response.
“So, is no one concerned about the fact that Derek is apparently an Alpha?” Boyd asked, everyone turning to look at Derek in shock, except for Stiles, who had looked down to avoid staring at the betas any longer and finally registered what was missing.
“Yes, I’m an alpha.” Derek said, mainly to his mother whose eyes had turned red.
“Derek.” Stiles whimpered out.
“And he’s,” Derek went to say, looking at Stiles before looking back to Talia, and then very quickly looking back at Stiles, “where the fuck are your…? Stiles you need to stay calm.” Derek said, registering the fact that if Stiles had no tattoos, his magic was uncontrolled, officially making him the most dangerous person in the room.
“Oh, I need to stay calm, do I?” Stiles asked sarcastically, already feeling the urge to push his magic a little, to be threatening. Derek simply flashed his eyes, and it was enough, for now. Derek gave his wrist another squeeze, attempting to anchor him at least a little.
“Explain, now.” Talia said, leaving no room for discussion.
“Uh, yeah, he’s an alpha, that’s a whole other story, and uh, I have, a lot of magic, but, normally, I have tattoos, this me, doesn’t, which means-” Stiles started to explain, Talia interrupting him.
“Which means your magic is now uncontrolled, and dangerous.”
Stiles nodded yes at her when the door opened once again, not bothering to turn around and investigate, as all the wolves seemed to relax somewhat.
“So, what’s this I hear about my son switching universes.” His dad said, clapping him on the shoulder and making him flinch, before moving to stand behind Cora. His dad could clearly tell that he wasn’t his son, at least, not his version of his son, hopefully that would make things easier. Stiles couldn’t help but look at his dad in confusion though, because he was wearing a deputy uniform.
“Why are you a deputy?” Stiles asked, confused.
“Am I not in the force in your reality?” His dad asked.
“You’re the sheriff.” Stiles replied back dumbly.
“Oh god, why did I do that, Jesus I’d have no time for family, or a life.” His dad said with a laugh.
“You became the Sheriff when you took up more work after…” Stiles trailed off, realisation hitting him, panic and sorrow washing over him.
“After what?” His dad asked him.
“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t find my keys.” The female voice wafted in from behind him.
“So, you’re my not-son and my not-son-in-law huh?” Claudia says as she walks past to stand next John, her eyes immediately going soft with motherly concern at the looks on Stiles and Derek’s faces. Her words make his heart clench as he registers that his mother is never actually going to meet whoever he marries.
Stiles can tell she’s dying in this reality too, from the way she has to look at things twice, the way she’s tilting her head just slightly to the left, and that she’s started fidgeting with her wedding ring.
“Jesus you two, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She says, and Stiles can’t help the gut-wrenching gasp that leaves his mouth, his hand moving to clamp over it, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent any tears from falling.
“You aren’t, you aren’t alive, anymore, for us.” Derek says, eyes staying on Stiles.
“Oh, well shit, what’d I die of?” She asks, leaning back into John.
“Natural causes.” Derek replies, and Stiles opens his eyes just in time to see the barest sign of recognition on his dad’s face. They already know she’s dying.
“Like what, cancer?” Leah asks, and Stiles, with his complete lack of filter and magic clawing at his emotions, opens his mouth.
“Frontotemporal dementia. Same thing she’s dying of now.”
Everyone bar Derek, Talia, his dad and his mum look shocked, and Stiles couldn’t blame them.
“It starts with the forgetfulness, and the migraines, both will just keep getting worse. You’ll have trouble falling asleep, and when you do, you’ll sleepwalk. You’ll start getting scared of a lot of people, because you can’t remember them, god the amount of times you tried to protect me from dad because you thought he was breaking in. Then you’ll start hallucinating. Slowly, you’ll lose cognitive function, talking, keeping your eyes focused, eating, moving. Then you die.” Stiles can see Derek looking at him in his peripherals, registering how much of what Stiles went through with the possession was similar to his mum.
“Well, doesn’t that sound fun.” His mum replied, huffing a laugh, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his dads back, and it almost was worse. Because she was exactly the same, never letting it seem as bad as it was, always trying to be the best mother she could be. And god, she was, she was the best.
Stiles didn’t realise he had been crying till a tear landed on his hand, reaching up to wipe at his face.
“Never thought I’d see Mitch cry.” Laura said, making Derek and Stiles look at her confused.
“Who’s Mitch?” Stiles asked, thinking he perhaps hadn’t noticed someone else in the room, or maybe he’d gotten someone’s name wrong.
“Uh, you?” Laura replied, looking at Stiles like he was a dumbass.
“No, he’s Stiles.” Derek replied, looking at Laura with the same expression.
“Jesus, I haven’t heard that in a long time.” His dad said, “Stiles was a random nickname from when Mitch was a kid, I don’t think anyone has used it since you were what, six probably.” He explained.
“Why Mitch though?” Derek asks.
“It’s like the shorter version of how you pronounce his actual name.” Cora said, also looking at Derek like he was a dumbass.
Derek looked over to Stiles, eyebrows raised.
“Mieczyslaw.” Stiles told him.
“Wait, did you not know his name?” Talia asked after a pause, sounding somewhat horrified.
“Not his real one, no, we just use Stiles, which he prefers, and he keeps his real name under tight wraps.” Derek explained.
“Which it will remain that way.” Stiles said to Derek threateningly.
“How could you not know your own husbands name?” Peter asked, and oh, right, that whole situation.
“We aren’t married.” Stiles said awkwardly.
“Engaged?” Johnathan asked.
Both boys simply shaking their head no.
“Dating at least?” His dad asked, once again, Derek and Stiles shaking their head no. Silence taking over the room.
“Alright, as much as this is all horrifying and weird, I called in some help who should be here soon.” Talia said, once again reminding Stiles and Derek that they didn’t actually get this life, and that nearly everyone in the room was dead for them.
“So, Deaton is actually helpful in this reality then?” Stiles asked.
Multiple snorts from around the room said otherwise.
“Good god no, that man couldn’t be helpful if he tried. No, I called in the Argent family, do you know them in your reality?” Talia asked, and Stiles felt his blood run cold, feeling Derek tense next to him.
“Family?” Stiles asked horrified, because that would imply that it wasn’t just Allison and Chris. Everyone was looking at them strange now, like they were confused by their reactions.
“Yes family, speak of the devils.” Talia said back.
“Hey Derek.” A woman’s voice came from behind them, all bubbly and flirty, and god, it had been a while since Stiles had heard that voice.
They both reacted without much thought. Derek was already shifted and growling by the time he was out of his chair and turning to face Kate, but he was almost frozen, like he’d hoped it wasn’t actually her. Stiles on the other hand, was overcome with rage.
Rage plus uncontrolled magic is usually an interesting combination.
Stiles felt his magic wash over him, knew that his body was slightly glowing, and his eyes had turned completely gold, he had Kate pressed against a wall, unable to move, holding his hand out to keep her there, moving to stand in front of Derek, acting once again as a shield. Gerard and Victoria were next, pressed against the wall next to Kate.
He had all intentions of just making them leave, but then he felt the quite frankly terrible magic concealing the masses of yellow wolfsbane hidden on their person, and that just wasn’t going to do.
People were yelling at him, trying to get him to stop and get his attention, it wasn’t until Talia moved into his line of sight, now right by him that he even registered her words.
“Stiles,” she said, awkwardly fumbling over the name, “I don’t know what they are like in your reality but here they are good people.” Stiles can hear her letting her alpha powers bleed into her voice, but it won’t work, Derek’s his alpha and Stiles doesn’t even listen to him.
“I call bullshit on that one. Good people don’t carry enough yellow wolfsbane on them to kill every wolf in the room three times over.” Stiles grounded out, clenching his jaw.
He could see Talia look at him in concern, because he wasn’t lying, but the shitty magic concealing the wolfsbane was enough to fool the wolves.
“Why would we-” Kate started, but Stiles focused a little more of his magic and soon she was struggling to breathe.
“Shut up you bitch, we’ve killed you twice and we’ll gladly do it again.” Stiles said back, anger controlling his every move. Everyone seemed horrified at his words, and Stiles guessed murder wasn’t as big of a trend in this Beacon Hills.
Talia made a move to grab his arm, trying to deescalate the situation, but Derek, in an equally furious state as Stiles, growled at her, very quickly reminding everyone that he was not their Derek, and that he was Stiles’ alpha.
“Mitch, or Stiles, whatever, we all carry tranquilisers on us, they have a small amount of regular wolfsbane in them, approved by Talia, the pack, and all the deputies in this room. They are for our safety and all the wolves’ safety, I can guarantee we don’t carry yellow wolfsbane, we only have a small amount locked away in a safe, and its only used for extreme situations.” Chris said, also stepping into his line of view, pulling out a small dart gun from his jacket pocket to show Stiles.
“We have strict rules in our code that we follow, if any of us were to just carry yellow wolfsbane we’d be arrested for attempted murder, and everyone knows that.” Allison added on.
“Oh really?” Stiles asked, shifting his magic around. He used one hand to keep the three pressed against the wall, his other, shattered the magic concealing the wolfsbane, their clothes shredding as the syringes flew into Stiles’ hand.
With parts of their clothes shredded, the harnesses that held the wolfsbane were clearly visible, runes carved into the leather straps. And as far as their little act went, it was like Stiles had flipped a switch.
“You little shit, I’ll kill you too.” Gerard growled at him, Stiles gripping moving his magic to grip around his throat as it was around Kates, the desperate need to breathe stopping him from talking.
“How could you?” Chris asked the three of them, looking as horrified as all the wolves.
“Someone has to put down the dogs, and you certainly weren’t going to do it.” Victoria hissed at her husband.
“Well, I’m awfully glad for the amount of deputy’s in this room, because you three are going to be arrested for attempted murder.” Chris said numbly, watching as Joshua and Sally pulled out cuffs, walking up to the three. Stiles started to loosen his magic, letting the three sag against the wall, but before anyone could grab them, Kate was lunging at Allison, blade going for her throat.
Everyone, too shocked to move, didn’t respond quick enough, however, Stiles and Derek did. Using his magic, Stiles threw a shield up in front of Allison and Derek absorbed some of his magic to move faster than possible, stopping in front of Allison in the blink of an eye, grabbing Kates wrist.
It not going unnoticed by all the wolves that Derek was exposing his back to a trained hunter, young as Allison may be.
Everyone watched in uncomfortable silence as the three Argents were hauled outside and pushed into two cruisers, Joshua and Sally driving off to the station. Everyone seemed horrified at the events, except Derek and Stiles, who were honestly disappointed they didn’t get to kill the assholes.
“I’m so sorry.” Chris muttered out, looking to Talia with glassy eyes. “I had… I had no clue.” He continued on, Talia nodding in acceptance, knowing he wasn’t lying.
Stiles still had magic thrumming through him, and Derek, still shifted, was still standing in front of Allison, not even letting Chris near her.
“Okay you two, you can calm down now.” John said, eyes flicking between Stiles and Derek.
Stiles waited until Derek shifted back and gave Allison a nod before he let his magic drift to the back of his mind once again.
“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Stiles muttered, getting a snort of a laugh out of Derek, and a horrified expression from everyone else.
“How the fuck could you say that was anticlimactic and believe it? They just admitted to wanting us dead, they had syringes with liquid yellow wolfsbane, which, I might add, are still sitting on our dining table, and you have the nerve to say that it was anticlimactic.” Cora said to him, angry.
“They only got arrested. No one’s injured. No one’s dead. Anticlimactic.” Stiles said, annoyed.
“Speaking of, perhaps they should be stored in the Hale vault until my family’s possessions have been thoroughly assessed.” Chris said, Laura nodding and grabbing them off the table, placing them in a box on the kitchen counter to deal with later.
“Now listen you two, I don’t know what kind of situation you’re in, but this is my home and my pac-”
“Would you like to know?” Stiles asked, interrupting Talia, a sharpness to his voice that he gets when his magic gets a little too comfortable being uncontrolled.
“Would I like to know what?” Talia snapped back, sounding every bit the challenged alpha.
“Would you like to know what kind of situation we’re in? Would you like to know why I don’t know you, Mrs. Hale?” Stiles asked, voice getting colder and colder by the minute.
A miniscule nod from Talia was enough to have Derek slamming his body down in the chair he had been in before, guilt and sadness rolling off him in waves.
“Kate and Gerard Argent, plus a few of their lovely friends burnt this house down with all of you inside.” Stiles begins, watching Talia’s eyes widen with shock at the realisation he’s telling the truth.
“Derek and Laura got out,” Stiles continues, “Cora too, though we don’t know how, and I’m sure as shit not about to ask. Peter got out, just. Third degree burns over his entire body, took him years to heal. Plenty of time for him to go insane, trapped in his own mind. Laura became an alpha, she was the next in line anyways, and her and Derek fled to New York. Of course, upon her return, Peter detected an alpha on the territory, I guess that was enough to push his healing that last little bit.” Stiles said.
“So no, I didn’t think you were pregnant,” Stiles says, looking over to Laura, “it’s just that the last time I saw you, you were just half a body, torn in half and dead in a ditch outside that window,” Stiles said, gesturing to a window to his right, “curtesy of insane uncle Peter.” Most of them gasped at that.
“Peter bit Scott McCall,” Stiles continued on, Allison’s gasp enough to know that they were still dating in this reality, “he’s a true alpha though, doesn’t need Peter at all. Peter also bit Lydia Martin but turns out she’s a banshee so that didn’t have much effect either. It was at that point Derek tore his throat out with his teeth. Bye-bye uncle Peter. Of course, nothing in Beacon Hills stays dead for long so he was back pretty quickly.” Stiles continued on, a hysterical edge to his voice as he noted the shock on everyone’s face.
“Of course, Derek needed betas, so he bit Erica and Boyd.” The two wolves’ eyes lit up, and Stiles wondered how they’d been turned in this reality. “He also bit Isaac Lahey, saved him from his abusive father, and Jackson Whittemore, though that was a bit of a shit show, because he turned into a kanima and tried to kill literally everyone, though we managed to get him to some kind of happy middle ground, half kanima, half werewolf. Derek at least asked them if they wanted the bite and got permission first, unlike Peter.” Stiles said, pointedly glaring over at a horrified Peter.
“So then of course, the shit show really begins. Kate and Gerard come back to town, kidnap me, and Erica and Boyd. Electrocuted the shit out of them, beat the crap out me. But we got out. Derek killed Kate, thank god. However, Scott, with his very shitty plans, forced Derek to bite Gerard, who’d been poisoned with wolfsbane, so he was in a permanent vegetable state for a while there. Really fucked with them though,” Stiles said, nodding his head towards where Erica and Boyd stood with glassy eyes, “so they left, in search of a safer pack outside of Beacon Hills. Didn’t work out too well, though, there was an alpha pack.” Stiles almost laughed at the horrified gasp that left Talia’s mouth.
“They killed Erica, somewhat quickly, at least that’s what we tell ourselves to help us sleep at night. Boyd got out of their capture though, brought a wolf with him. Cora, and like I said, we weren’t about to ask a whole heap of questions. But the alpha pack wanted Derek, their terms were steep though, gotta kill your whole pack, it’s what they had all done. Derek refused, obviously, so instead they forced Derek’s claws into Boyd’s chest, killing him real slowly.” Stiles continued, voice shaky as he looked over at Boyd, who was wrapping a comforting arm around Erica.
“We got through it, just. Peter killed the alpha packs emissary, a darach, that was posing as an English teacher, of course that made Peter go on another phsyco spree, but, as per usual, we dealt with it. There’s a whole bunch of other shit too, I got possessed by a nogitsune, stabbed Allison, she survived but our relationship is a little strained as I’m sure you can imagine. And I mean we’ve had dread doctors, a wild hunt, goblins which, those little fuckers suck, sirens, that one fucking ogre. Oh, there was that time Kate came back as a werejaguar, because again, nothing you want to stay dead fucking stays dead in Beacon Hills, and the people you want back always stay dead. Derek killed her, again.” Stiles said.
“Oh and let’s not forget Victoria,” Stiles said, turning to Chris, “got fatally wounded when the pack tried to save, well, the rest of pack from your darling family, this was at a great time too, when Kate had her claws so deep into Allison, brainwashing and grooming her into being a murderer. Scott bit Victoria to save her, not wanting his girlfriend’s mother to die, you wanna know what happened? She shot herself laying in your arms, not wanting to be a ‘monster’, and you helped her pull the trigger.” Stiles expression went dark as he looked at Chris. “And then of course you lied about it to Allison, not realising how much you were helping Kate.”
Stiles slumped down in his chair, still itching with anger, but adrenaline fading out into exhaustion.
“And that’s only like, half of it.” Stiles muttered out, a part of him satisfied with the distraught expressions on everyone’s faces.
“Can you scratch me, please?” Derek asked his mother suddenly, and Stiles didn’t bother reacting, he knew what Derek was doing.
Talia looked beyond confused and upset, but listened to her son, reaching out and scratching a line down along the inside of his wrist, where he held his arm out.
“You know that isn’t going to heal quickly, it’s an alpha inflicted wound.” Talia said softly, like she was afraid the two boys in front of her would break.
“That’s the idea.” Derek replied, moving his wrist to lay on the dining table, exactly in Stiles line of vision, where he’d looked down to avoid the stares from everyone. He slowly began healing the wound, it only took about a minute, and he felt far calmer once he was done.
“When his magic is uncontrolled it amplifies his emotions, he was angry and annoyed, hence him being a massive asshole. We learnt pretty quickly that healing magic is, well, softer, I guess, helps bring him back to normal.” Derek explained as Stiles focused on the wound in front of him. Silence falling over the room as they watched Stiles.
“So, out of the thirteen of us in this room, five are alive?” Leah asked once Stiles was done, voice wavering. Derek and Stiles simply nodded back.
“Any of the children?” Lacey asked softly, and Derek and Stiles just shook their heads no.
“How old were you when…?” Talia trails off, asking Derek.
“I was sixteen.” Derek replies, not looking her in the eye. Everyone around them gasping, except for Claudia, who was looking at Stiles with a calculating expression.
“And how old were you, when I died?” Claudia asked, looking at Stiles with the same calming expression she used to look at him with when he wanted her to just come home from the hospital.
“I was eight.” Stiles mumbled.
“Oh sweetheart.” Claudia mumbled, tears threatening to fall from her already glassy eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Stiles said then, to Talia, guilt seeping in at his outburst.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say sorry.” Talia said, with a small sad smile.
“Jesus Christ, how much of an asshole am I?” Stiles asked, looking around the room. Everyone’s wincing expressions not filling him with confidence.
“You guys were fine, for ages, the perfect couple, the perfect husbands, kind of like what you two are like, but with less, death, I guess.” Laura said, looking like she missed the old them, whatever that meant.
“And then you got a promotion, and worked more,” Laura continued, gesturing to Derek, “and you quit your job because you didn’t like it, but haven’t found another in, a while.” She said, gesturing to Stiles.
“You both started becoming, well, horrible from there. We’ve all been waiting for Derek to cheat, we would know if he has because we’d smell it, but I think even you know that it’s going to happen, but we don’t know who with.” She continued, Stiles turning to look at Derek, offended.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Derek mumbled.
“And now, Derek hates his job, and doesn’t earn enough for the both of you. You guys just sold your place and are crashing here till you buy something cheaper. Uh, Mitch didn’t seem to happy about downgrading.” Laura continued on. And then it clicked.
“Oh my god, am I a trophy husband? Wait, how long have we been married” Stiles asked, horrified.
“Trying to be. But you’re getting bored, but you have no idea what you want to do, and you’re getting shitty that Derek is working so much, and he’s getting shitty that you don’t work at all. And uh, three years, I think?” Laura replied.
“Wait, so how old am I?” Stiles asked, presuming he must be older in this reality.
“Twenty-one.” His mother supplied.
“You let me get married at eighteen?” Stiles asked, somewhat horrified. All his got was an amused nod from his mother and father.
“And now,” Laura added on, “you’re basically assholes to anyone that even has a shred of happiness.” Laura explains.
“Hence, asshole comments about being pregnant.” Stiles said, looking at Laura, who nodded.
“What do I do?” Derek asked, looking down at his hands.
“Accountant.” Peter supplied, and Stiles couldn’t stop the snort of laughter that burst out him even if he tried, hand clamping over his mouth to stop any more sounds. Derek looked horrified.
“Why the fuck am I an account?” Derek asked, definitely horrified.
“Money. You did the books for the station once when we needed the help, a company noticed and hired you, and you worked up pretty high on the ladder.” Johnathan explained.
“I would have thought I was a carpenter or something.” Derek mumbled, catching Stiles attention. He never knew Derek was into carpentry.
“You used to be, made a lot of the furniture in this house. You did a lot of metal working, and yes, you did make your wedding rings.” Talia said, Stiles looking down at his hand in shock. The rings looked expensive, incredibly high in quality. He pulled it off to look at closely, his heart fluttering when he noticed the Latin engraving on the inside.
‘Luna Meum’.
My Moon.
Stiles couldn’t help the small smile from appearing on his face. He showed Derek, who’s expression seemed shocked, who then pulled his own ring off to inspect.
‘Astra Meo’.
My Stars.
For the first time in a long time, Stiles couldn’t decipher the look on Derek’s face. It made him feel uneasy that it could potentially be dislike. He thought it was one of the sweetest things he’d seen in a long time, the words made his heart flutter. And the thought that Derek could hate it was a sudden and harsh reminder that he and Derek were never going to be together. Never going to be married.
“You guys never said it was engraved, what’s it say?” Cora asked, and Derek and Stiles both shoved the rings back on their fingers.
“Nothing important.” Stiles muttered out, letting a little magic bleed into the words so the wolves couldn’t detect the lie, except not bothering to mask his heartbeat to Derek, who could tell when he was lying anyways.
“Well, uh, I’m sorry your version of us suck.” Stiles muttered when the silence was teetering on awkward, trying to take his mind of his thoughts, though looking into the gentle eyes of the dead people surrounding him wasn’t really helping.
“Well I’m sorry we’re not there for yours.” Talia said back softly, and that had Stiles and Derek blinking away tears once again.
Stiles felt a presence behind him, but didn’t think much of it, lost in the caring gaze of his mother, completely missing the unimpressed expression appear on Talia’s face.
“You two having fun?” The female voice floated in from behind in, sounding happy and proud. It made Stiles want to snap her neck.
“Having fun? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Stiles asked, standing up and turning around, eyes bleeding into gold, Derek following suit, eyes bleeding red, even letting his fangs drop a little.
The happy expression dropped off the witches face quickly, replaced with confusion and hurt.
“I, I thought you two would be happy to spend some time with your family.” She replied in a shaky nervous voice.
“Happy?” Derek growled, and yep, that was Derek’s murder voice.
“You think throwing us into a reality, where the people we have spent years mourning are alive, knowing full well it’s going to get ripped away from us once again, knowing what we could have had, is going to make us happy? I’m fucking furious, because you know what I get? I get a day of confusion and sorrow and bullshit and then I have to go back to taking flowers to the gravestones of my dead family. There’s no laughter, there’s no love, there’s just empty coffins. The charred remains of my family stolen by hunters. You wanna make me happy? Huh? Give me a pile of dead hunters who took the bones of werewolves away from traumatised children.” Derek growled out, shifting more and more with each word, the wolves behind him gasping at his words.
A part of Stiles was proud, it was the most he’d ever heard Derek talk about his feelings.
“I didn’t, I didn’t thin-”
“No, you didn’t fucking think,” Stiles interrupted her, “because we will, never, ever forget this. We will spend the rest of our miserable, shitty lives knowing we could have had the happy ending. A family. Friends. Fuck, I could have lived in a world were murder was something I still looked down upon. I am going to spend the rest of my life knowing the only good thing I have is that my horrible life will be short, because let’s be honest, I’m not gonna live that long, no one does where we live.” Stiles said darkly.
“And a word to the wise, get some fucking control on your magic, you don’t wanna know how ugly it’ll get if you don’t.” Stiles warned.
“I just wanted to teach them a lesson.” She mumbled back, tears in her eyes, but Stiles and Derek had no sympathy for her.
“Who a lesson?” Claudia asked, a darkness to her voice, Stiles supposed that was fair, considering the words she’d just heard her son say.
“Your version of them.” The witch said to Claudia. “They were rude, and mean, and were straying further from each other with every passing moment. They were terrible. They needed a reality check, and the worst place I could send them, was where these guys are. I figured it would be fine, the married couple would learn a couple of lessons, and begin the process of returning to their old selves, and these guys could have a happy day with their loved ones that they missed. Win win.” She explained softly, looking around the room, but never looking at Stiles or Derek.
“Great. Excellent. Damage done. Send us back now.” Derek snarled, allowing his features to shift back to just being his red eyes.
“I can’t.”
And that, that broke Stiles.
His dad being stuck with his asshole version. No one putting Peter in his place. No one helping Scott being anything other than an idiot. No Stiles to sit with a shaking Lydia, or help Liam with his control, or tutor Malia. No one to make a decent plan. No one with even a shred of good magic.
“What do you mean, you can’t?” Stiles asked, voice sounding foreign even to himself. He knew his magic was doing something threatening, but he was completely unaware of all the weapons in the room that had begun to float in the air, aimed at the witch.
Everything from Allison’s daggers, to the deputy’s guns, to the steak knives from the cutlery draw, to the chef’s knives from the knife block. Everything, hovering, ready to strike. Stiles was barely aware of the spirals of gold smoke swirling around his body.
“I mean I can, I will, just not this second. I, I promise. I promise. I just, they just, they need another hour or two. I promise. I can.” The witch rushed out, terror on her face.
“Fine.” Derek ground out, neither he nor Stiles making any move.
When it became clear Stiles wasn’t going to be moving anytime soon, Peter stepped in.
“How about I take you into the other room and give you some tips on magic control, and in an hour or two you can switch the boys back?” Peter asked, very slowly weaving his way around the weapons until he was leading the witch out of everyone’s sight.
Stiles could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care, he was furious, and he was scared.
“Stiles.”
It was said so softly and gently, that the memory came rushing back to him. Of the first time his magic really came out to play. The goblins had been killing people, trapping them in their own homes then eating the person slowly until they were found dead or dying to a point beyond saving.
Parrish had rung him, asking why his dad hadn’t come into work, and wondering why he couldn’t get a hold of him. And Stiles knew, he just knew. Stiles, somehow, how transported to his house. His dad was tied to a chair, chunks of his legs missing and bleeding all over the kitchen floor. His magic had come over him in waves, and he’d only be distantly aware of the goblins exploding around him.
But then no one could get to his dad to help, his magic wasn’t allowing it, so Derek had clawed his way towards Stiles, and softly muttered his name until he could hear him, and he could reel his magic in.
Stiles had completely forgotten about that moment, turning his head to look at a concerned Derek. He supposed it’d been a while since Derek has seen his magic uncontrolled.
“I’m okay.” Stiles muttered, hearing the sounds of knives dropping into draws and watching as two daggers slid back into the garter around Allison’s thigh.
“How bout we cook up some food, you two boys go and rest, and then we’ll have a nice big lunch before you two head off?” Claudia said, looking around at the room.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Talia replied.
Stiles made his way back up the stairs, not turning to look at anyone, he could feel Derek following him. He didn’t say anything until the bedroom door was shut.
“I hate not having control of my magic.” Stiles whimpered, back to Derek, not wanting the wolf to see just how close he was to crying.
“I know.”
“I fucking hate this, how the fuck are we supposed to just go back to our normal lives?” Stiles asked, tears starting to run down his cheeks.
“We spend time with who we’ve got.” Derek replied, voice breaking.
“I can’t say goodbye to her. Not again.” Stiles said, finally turning to Derek, who had matching tears streaming down his face.
“Then say it to those you didn’t get a chance to say it to.” Derek replied.
And then they were hugging. Desperately hugging each other like it was the only thing keeping them alive, Stiles was half convinced it was. He couldn’t help the slightest twinge of jealousy as he realised this was the first time he’d ever actually hugged Derek, knowing that this reality’s Stiles had gotten to do everything with his Derek. His husband.
And then a whole new wave of sadness washed over him, because, ignoring everyone and everything downstairs, just focusing on what was in this room, it was still something he was never, ever going to get. Derek squeezing him just that bit tighter as he presumably smelt Stiles emotions get worse, it helped, but only a little.
They stood like that for what must have been half an hour, until the tears dried on their faces, and then went downstairs to help cook up a lunch to feed all the adult wolves, the decision being made to keep the kids away from Stiles and Derek, to make leaving at least a shred easier on them.
Stiles pointedly didn’t say goodbye to his mother, just gave her a hug, and let her kiss his forehead. He did say goodbye to Erica though, with tears streaming down his face.
“I’m sorry.” Erica mumbled into his shoulder as they hugged.
“No, I should be sorry, sorry I didn’t find you in time, sorry I wasn’t a good enough friend for you to consider staying.” Stiles replied, watching as tears started to pool in Erica’s eyes at his words, not fully understanding the weight of them.
Derek said goodbyes to most his family, reminding Stiles that there was not a single person in the room that Derek had gotten the chance to say goodbye to.
“You two ready.” The witch asked quietly from behind them, Stiles simply turned and nodded, not trusting his voice, but not sure what he would say anyway, because he wasn’t ready, how could he ever be ready to leave all this behind.
“Someone owes me a favour, and I’m pulling it in to give you to an apology of sorts, a gift, one for each of you.” She said, and Stiles caught the way her eyes drifted to behind where Stiles and Derek were standing, but he wasn’t about to overthink it. He was too busy noticing her coven necklace where the Amantes Mortem coven’s talisman hung from her neck.
Within the blink of eye, they were back, and severely out of breath.
Stiles looked down, his ink was back, his magic felt good as it thrummed through his veins, and his lungs were fucking killing him.
“Why the fuck were we running?” Stiles wheezed at Derek, feeling the burn through his legs.
“Where’d it go? It just vanished.” Stiles heard from behind him, and he knew that voice.
“Jackson?” Stiles asked, confused. Last he’d checked, Jackson was living in London.
“Stiles?” Jackson asked back, eyes hopeful, further confusing Stiles even more.
“Uh, yeah. Who else would I be?” Stiles asked, and then Jackson was laughing, and pulling him into a hug. Jackson Whittemore, was hugging him. But, Stiles kind of needed it, latching onto the werewolf, grounding himself in reality.
“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked, before feeling a smaller hand slip into his.
“We’ll explain at the loft yeah?” Allison said, smiling at Stiles’ incredibly confused expression, dragging him forward by his hand. Stiles stumbled a little as he followed, and looked back to see Derek clapping a hand on Isaac’s shoulder as they walked along.
By the time Stiles had a beer in his hand, he’d done a head count.
He and Derek, obviously, his dad, Melissa, Peter, Cora, Lydia, Scott, Malia, Kira, Danny, Liam and his friend Mason. The usuals. Parrish was there too, a tentative new pack member as they tried to figure out what he was, but no Deaton, who apparently didn’t think the whole situation was that big of a deal. But, there was also, Allison, Isaac and Chris, apparently back from France and Jackson back from London, but no twins.
Scott explains what they missed, well, Lydia and Kira did most of the explaining when Scott got everything wrong. Basically, Stiles and Derek swapped with Mitch and Derek, and then a big ass, giant, ogre looking creature had started tormenting the pack. Most likely a magic illusion to scare Mitch and Derek. Stiles noticed none of them really went into detail on the ogre thing though. Jackson had already been on his way back to Beacon Hills, a bad breakup with Ethan and a never fading pull to Derek as his alpha giving him enough motivation to return.
Chris, Allison and Isaac had just appeared though, obviously by the hand of the witch, to get the whole gang back together so to speak.
It doesn’t take long for Stiles to figure out that neither Mitch nor Derek mentioned being married to any of the pack.
Stiles zones out as Derek explains what happens from their end, and although he doesn’t listen fully, he knows Derek doesn’t mention being married either, and it hurts in a way he didn’t think it would.
Zoning out, Stiles can’t help but notice what had changed in the day they were gone, and wonders what kind of terrifying situations everyone was put in. Danny and Jackson were leaning on each other on the couch, Allison and strangely, Parrish, kept making eyes at each other from across the room, where Allison was cuddled up to Lydia, which seemed to be the only predictable interaction, after all, they were still best friends, but, Lydia is making eyes at Cora. Isaac and Scott were standing awfully close to each other, and Stiles noticed that Malia, who was leaning over the back of the couch, was fidgeting with Kira’s hair, who was sitting in front of her. Liam and Mason were glued to each other, which, again, was normal, but their need to be near Jackson, like he would keep them safe, not so much.
“And then, right before she swapped us back, she said she was going to give a gift to each of us, but I’ve got no fucking clue what.” Stiles heard Derek say as he zoned back in.
“You got any clue dude?” Scott asked him, and Stiles shrugged, because he had an idea, but it was one he didn’t dare entertain.
“That's a yes.” Isaac said softly. Stiles heaved a sigh.
“She said she owed someone a favour, implying that the ‘gift’ would come from someone else. I saw her necklace, she belongs to the Amantes Mortem coven, who are known for their alliances with necromancers. So, I have a pretty good idea of what the gifts could be.” Stiles explained, hoping his magic was enough to mask his sour mood, he didn’t really feel like talking about it, or being around his not-husband.
“So, Talia and Claudia maybe, both of your mothers.” Peter suggested, and Stiles winced at how hopeful he sounded. Stiles shaking his head no, not looking Peter in the eyes.
“She looked behind me to…” Stiles trailed off, his magic suddenly feeling weird, having the sudden urge to stand up and run to the door.
Derek gasped, and then Isaac was nearly crying, and Stiles brain short circuited just a little, there was no way he was right. But sure enough, the loft door slid open, the sound of metal creaking making everyone turn around.
“Someone wanna explain why we’re not dead anymore?” Erica asked, walking into the loft, eyes flashing at Derek, Boyd following suit.
“Holy fuck.” Stiles mutters, mostly to himself, before he’s tackled into a hug from Erica, the smell of her shampoo and perfume hitting him like a tonne of bricks, tears instantly pooling in his eyes.
“We followed you, you know,” Erica mumbled into his shoulder, “I heard what you said. You were enough, I’m sorry you thought otherwise.” She explained, voice wavering. And then she was launching herself at Derek, who hugged her back just as hard, and Boyd was hugging Stiles, and everyone was hugging everyone, and no one was judging anyone for the tears streaming down people’s faces.
His dad and Parrish left to finish up some things at the station, Chris left to go to check up on all his old shipping containers where his weapons were hidden, and Melissa went to work the graveyard shift. The general consensus seemed to be that everyone was going to sleep over the loft, to catch up and in general, be around pack. Stiles couldn’t help but notice Scott and Derek share a moment, and it seemed one day with a different Derek was all it needed for Scott to be okay having another alpha around.
And Stiles wanted to stick around, be with everyone. But there was a weight missing from his left hand, no metal for him to fidget with, and Derek was avoiding him as much as possible, Stiles could tell, even if the others couldn’t. And then all he could think about was his dad coming home to an empty house and having a frozen meal for dinner, and his heart broke just a little.
Stiles looked over to the kitchen counter, getting stressed when he noticed his car keys were missing from where he’d chucked them before he and Derek went traipsing through the preserve the night before.
“Is my jeep still here?” Stiles asked Isaac quietly, who had come up to him when he presumably started to smell sad and slightly panicked.
“Yeah, Jackson’s got your keys.” Isaac replied, bumping their shoulders together.
Jackson looked up as Stiles looked over to him, and threw him his keys, and then Stiles was gone, muttering out a ‘bye guys’ as he left, just hearing Kira asked in a concerned voice if he was okay before he was bolting down the stairs and jumping into his car.
By the time he pulls up to his house he’s surprised he hasn’t died, having nearly crashed his car five separate times when he let his eyes linger to his hand on his steering wheel, and the lack of ring on it. He imagined what it would look like in the moonlight, his heart skipping a beat as his mind drifted to the engraving on his ring.
He cooked his dad dinner, and they sat on the couch and watched M.A.S.H reruns until they were both so tired that they had to drag themselves up the stairs to go to bed.
Thing go back to normal after that. Everyone gets used to Erica and Boyd being alive, as well as Jackson returning home and Isaac and Allison being back, neither of whom seem like they are in a rush to buy plane tickets to go back to France, despite the fact that they had clearly broken up at some point while he and Derek were switched.
Stiles however, avoided everyone like the plague. Only seeing his dad, and occasionally Parrish when he dropped by the station. He was mainly avoiding Derek, but he knew that anyone else in the pack, including the humans, would be able to tell in an instant that he was a mess, and he didn’t want to explain why, it was easier having everyone think it was about missing his mother.
Which, surprisingly, wasn’t really the case.
He missed her, obviously, but it was the same amount he had grown to miss her, after mourning her for so many years.
No, he missed having a husband. He missed how much Derek let his walls down around him. He wants Derek to hold him, tightly, like he had in the bedroom while they pulled themselves back together. He wants to wake up in bed, face inches away from Derek’s, minus the silk pyjamas.
Stiles ends scavenging his room to find the old box that he inherited when his grandfather died, filled with trinkets and knickknacks, stored in the mess under his bed. His grandfather’s wedding ring was in it, and he was getting sick and tired of not having a ring to fidget with, not realising how much he had been doing it that day.
It’s a beautiful ring, a dark silver, with a lilac line almost marbled through the middle. Stiles had remembered not caring about it as a kid, but now, he was shocked, because he could tell as he held it in his hand, that the purple marbled through it was wolfsbane. Making him wonder, not for the first time, if he got his magic from his mother.
He slides into onto his wedding finger, lets his magic morph it just a little so it fits perfectly, and it feels so unbelievably right to having it there that tears prick his eyes. Stiles rolls his eyes at himself, he’d been far too emotional since he’d gotten back. Stiles pulls the ring off, placing it on the same finger on his other hand, and decides to keep wearing it, at least he’ll have something to fidget with.
He’s made it nearly a week when he hears his window open, waking him from his afternoon depression nap. Confused at not feeling the person climb onto the bed, he rolls over, blearily opening his eyes to a surprisingly nervous looking Jackson.
“Are you going to nap with me or not?” Stiles asks, laying his head back down, this time facing the window.
“Uh, I guess.” Jackson replies, uncertain, toeing his shoes off and slowly and awkwardly lowering himself onto the bed. Two minutes later, Jackson was still so tense it was starting to make Stiles feel tense, and he couldn’t fall back asleep, but before he could ask what was wrong, Jackson was speaking.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?” Stiles asked, because, that was not what he was expecting.
“I’m sorry okay, look I know I’m the reason you’ve been avoiding the pack. I know me coming back was unexpected and that we don’t get along and I was an absolute asshole to you back in the day, which I mean, you gave as good as you got so I thought we’d be okay you know, but, the pack needs you, and I need the pack and that includes you in it. And I mean, we don’t need to best friends, but we don’t have to hate each other, and like, it won’t happen overnight, but we can work on it yeah?” Jackson rushed out, panicked.
Stiles looked at him like he’d grown another head.
“Dude, what? I don’t hate you, and yeah, being an asshole to each other is like, our thing, its chill. You aren’t the reason I’m avoiding the pack, so don’t work yourself up over it.” Stiles groggily explained, moving to use Jackson’s arm as a pillow to make his point. Watching him visibly relax before shutting his eyes and trying to fall back asleep.
“So, why are you avoiding the pack?” Jackson asked tentatively. Stiles couldn’t be fucked using his magic, so it took him a second to figure out what to say that wasn’t just ‘my heart breaks every time I look at Derek knowing he isn’t actually my husband’.
“I just, seeing the pack is a stark reminder of the things, of the people, I had there, and it’s not that I don’t love our pack, it’s just going to take some time for me to be able to move past that. Pack meetings are the hardest though, because all I can see is what isn’t there.” Stiles says, hoping Jackson doesn’t pick up on the fact that he isn’t entirely talking about people.
“How about this, we nap, and then I’ll drive you to the pack meeting, and then, if you can’t handle it anymore, we can bullshit a fight el dorado style and both leave like dramatic dickheads, sound good?” Jackson asked, and that had Stiles snorting a genuine laugh, which was apparently answer enough for Jackson. Because two hours later, he was climbing into Jacksons porsche and heading to the loft, spinning the ring on his hand like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
It goes… okay.
Stiles spends most of it cuddled up to Erica, with Allison laying against him with Lydia laying against her. Jackson relatively keeps his distance, but Stiles can tell by the looks they keep sharing he’s only keeping his distance in case Stiles wants to bail. He doesn’t look at Derek once, he almost forgets he’s there until Peter starts looking between them with a smirk on his face.
“You know Stiles, I think we should get you laid, it’ll cheer you up.” Stiles tries to laugh in agreeance, but it comes out more of a whine, and he splutters a little and then just hides his face in Erica’s side, avoiding the looks from everyone. Stiles can tell he’s made it awkward, but he’s too upset to care, other Stiles probably got laid on the regular, with Derek. He knows Peter was trying to lighten the mood, and he feels bad, so twenty minutes later when Peter pauses walking past him to ruffle his hair, he leans into the touch.
The issue is, Stiles falls asleep. And when he wakes, there’s a blanket thrown over him, he can hear Derek cleaning up in the kitchen, and everyone is gone. Including Jackson, his ride. Stiles flails, falls off the couch as he gets caught up in the blankets, and sits up to see Derek behind the couch, an amused expression on his face. Which, well, hurts. He knows logically, if it was pre alternate reality switch, they’d snark at each other, but Stiles is starting to feel like he’s never going to be able to be around Derek and act the same ever again.
“Where’s Jackson?” Stiles asks when he stands, watching Derek’s face fall as he doesn’t say anything snarky.
“He left earlier-” Derek started, Stiles irritated growl interrupting him.
“He was my fucking ride.” Stiles muttered more to himself than to Derek, turning around to grab his phone to message Jackson to come get him, his back to Derek.
“I told him I could drive you, but I figured you’d be happy to stay here tonight, it’s not like it would be the first time.” Derek said back, awkwardly, and Stiles had never really heard Derek been awkward. Stiles knows Derek is referring to the amount of times Stiles has crashed at the loft, both intentionally and when he’s passed out at Derek’s dining table researching their newest monster of the week. All he can think about though, is waking up next to Derek, and how fucking safe and comfortable and right he’d felt before he registered that it was unfamiliar. And then Stiles was blinking back tears, feeling so much more heart broken in Derek’s presence.
“Was it really that bad?” Derek asked from behind him, and before Stiles could question Derek’s wavering and breaking voice, he turned around, and snapped.
“Derek, I had fucking everything! Everything! Every single fucking thing I have ever wanted, and I am never, ever going to get that. So, I get it, you’ve clearly fucking accepted it and you’re fine now but I’m not, and I have no fucking idea when I will be!” Stiles said, practically yelling, before his voice got dangerously quiet.
“I had everything, and now I feel like I have nothing.”
“Everything huh?” Derek asked him, and Stiles registered the tears threatening to spill in Derek’s eyes.
“Yes Derek, everything.” Stiles replied, wiping at his eyes before his own tears could fall, not realising what he was admitting to.
Derek’s expression changes, to the look he’d had when Stiles had shown him the engraving in the ring, and Stiles just doesn’t know what the fuck to do with it.
“You wanna be married to me?” Derek asks, and Stiles heart stops when he realises what he’s said. The look is still on Derek’s face, but there’s almost a shred of desperation and, dare Stiles say, hope. He knows there’s no backing out, masking his emotions with magic or not, Derek can read him like a book.
“Yeah.” Stiles admits weakly, fidgeting with his grandfather’s ring, immediately stopping when he watches Derek’s eyes drop to his hands. Stiles looks down at his shoes, there’s no way he can look Derek in the eyes.
“I told Peter that we were married.” And that has Stiles flicking his eyes back up, confused, as to why A, he told Peter, and B, why there’s almost a smile on his face.
“He couldn’t figure out why I was so sad.” Derek continues, and that hurts more than Stiles wants to admit, the fact the Derek so easily admits to the fact the thought of being married to him makes him sad. Derek keeps talking though.
“You wanna know who I miss the most?” Derek asks, and there’s definitely a small smile on his face.
“Laura?” Stiles guesses with a shrug, looking back down, voice wobbly. Derek makes a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh.
“My husband.”
And that had Stiles head shooting up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Derek simply shrugged at him, like he hadn’t just tilted Stiles’ world off axis.
“I woke up before you, you know, had you wrapped up in my arms. Went from that to not seeing you for a week, I missed you.” Derek said softly, a hint of amusement in his voice, no doubt hearing Stiles’ heart race a thousand miles a minute.
“You missed me. Your husband.” Stiles said back dumbly.
“Mhm.” Derek simply mumbled back with a nod and a smile.
And, well, what else was Stiles supposed to do.
He vaulted over the couch, taking one step on the ground before launching himself into Derek’s arms. Derek caught him easily, one hand going to his waist, the other supporting his thigh where he’d wrapped his legs around his waist. And then Stiles was wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck, and slotting their mouths together.
“I thought you thought that the thought of being married to me was the worst thing possible.” Stiles said, pulling back, heart stuttering when Derek tried to chase his mouth.
“That barely makes sense.” Derek sighed out, moving his hand from Stiles waist to cup the back of his head and pull him back into a kiss, his tongue swiping against Stiles’ bottom lip. Stiles lets Derek take control of the kiss, sliding his tongue in and tasting the wolfsbane spiked cherry wine the wolves had been drinking.
“We need to sort out this whole you sometimes being able to teleport thing.” Derek said, shoving Stiles against the wall in his bedroom, Stiles realising he somehow accidently transported them upstairs.
“Uh-huh. I’m gonna marry you one day.” Stiles whined out when Derek pulled back to all but assault his neck, Stiles pulling his magic so the bruises would last and not heal, before attacking Derek’s neck, letting his magic bleed enough that the hickeys would take.
“Damn right you are.” Derek replied, and then Derek was shoving his tongue back in his mouth, and Stiles was letting out the most embarrassing high-pitched whine as Derek began to grind their hips together.
“As long as we don’t have fucking matching silk pyjamas.”
“Deal.”