Work Text:
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, burning Derek’s eyes as he struggled to remember the route. As a pup, he’d followed his mother on this excursion many times, but the wildlife around him had been more interesting than the path. He’d honestly forgotten about the cabin deep in the woods until he’d found the tin buried in the ashes of his childhood home.
He’d opened the tin, unsurprised to find the contents destroyed, but the scent of peppermint remained. His mind bloomed with memories of the cabin, the woman his mom’s age, and her barefoot, curious child. He’d stopped what he was doing and headed into the woods in search of the source of the memories before he could formalize a plan.
Just as he was ready to desert his mission, confident that the cabin no longer existed, he broke through the treeline into a clearing. Spotlit by the sun, the colorful glass in the windows sparkling and bringing a smile to Derek’s face. The memories grew more substantial, the cabin identical to the image in his mind. He stood, waiting for the woman to come from behind the building with a big smile and a cheerful greeting.
Instead, a young man dressed in jeans and a Marvel-themed shirt appeared. His smile was the woman’s smile, but his voice was deeper as he called out, “Greetings, traveler!”
Derek stared as he approached, words lost as the sun caused the man’s eyes to glow. He smirked as the silence dragged on and something tugged at Derek’s brain. Glancing down, he noticed bare toes sticking out from underneath the too-long denim.
“Mischief?” The name rolled off his tongue before the memory completely formed inside his brain.
The man’s smile faded a bit. “Most call me Stiles. Mischief was reserved for one visitor…” he trailed off as he studied Derek’s face, the gaze strong enough to be felt like a caress. “Derek? Derek Hale?”
“Yes,” he said, relieved the man remembered him but unsure why when until that day Derek had forgotten him. “Is your mother-” He cut off when the smile disappeared entirely; even the sunlight dimmed around them. “I’m sorry.”
Stiles waved him off after a moment, blinking to release a single tear that he allowed to travel down his cheek. Derek followed its journey. “My condolences to you, as well.”
Derek nodded and held out the tin. “I found this.” The ashes clinging to the container were enough of an explanation for where he’d found it, and he saw the grief in Stiles’ eyes.
He looked away from Stiles’ sad smile and allowed him to take the tin from him. He opened the lid and inhaled deeply. “I remember this blend.”
“I’d like some more,” Derek said.
“No,” Stiles responded, turning and heading around the cabin, still holding the tin.
“No?!” Derek shouted, but Stiles continued moving. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“I mean ‘no.’ Do you want to hear it in Spanish? ¡No!” Stiles said, deftly avoiding Derek’s reach. “This is a special blend crafted only for your mother. It wouldn’t work for you.”
“Work for me? It’s tea! It doesn’t have a job.”
Stiles chuckled. “Everything has a purpose. All of the teas here are...medicinal in some way or another. Each one is specifically blended with the drinker in mind.” Stiles stopped at a table holding tins similar to the one he’d brought. Along the wall stood shelves stocked with glass jars full of different dried plants. “If you just want a drink, I’ve heard Starbucks has some lovely blends.”
Derek’s laugh caught both of them off guard. Stiles’ smile finally made a reappearance, and the tension in the air between them faded away. “I just want something to remember her by,” Derek explained, his tone pleading. Stiles’ smile turned sad, but he nodded and turned his attention to the glass jars.
Derek watched as he worked, pulling down seemingly random jars and arranging them on the table. Finally, he ran his hands over the various tins before choosing one very similar in shape and size to the one Derek had brought with him. Moving carefully, he scooped small amounts from each glass jar and added them to the tin. Once he’d used every jar, he held the tin to his nose and inhaled deeply, smiling before closing the tin and giving it a shake.
Derek reached for the tin when Stiles held it out to him, drawing it closer and opening the lid to smell the contents. “It smells like my mom’s.”
“Many of the ingredients are similar,” Stiles stated. “Brew it for five minutes and drink.”
“What do I owe you?” Derek asked, digging into his pockets, but Stiles waved him off.
“I consider it a favor for an old friend.” Derek watched him disappear back into the cabin without another word.
Holding the tin close to his chest, Derek made his way back through the woods to his house. He couldn’t stop thinking about Stiles and the ways he’d changed from when they were children and yet still had the same strange magical quality about him. He was sad to hear he’d lost his mother like Derek had lost his own family but longed to feel the contentment with life the other man seemed to hold.
Heading into the house, glad he’d decided to rebuild, and even though there were only a few rooms completed, he had moved in while he finished everything. The kitchen was the first room he’d finished, and he was quite pleased with how it had turned out. Plugging in the electric teakettle, he pulled down his favorite mug shaped like Thor’s hammer.
Following Stiles’ instructions, he brewed the tea and settled into the armchair he’d set up in the corner of his bedroom. Inhaling deeply, he allowed the aroma to take him back to sitting at his mother’s feet playing while she drank tea and read. The first sip was an explosion of flavors. The peppermint he’d smelled was first, followed by the tang of citrus. The heat of the tea relaxed him, and he set the mug on the table next to the chair when he felt himself nodding off.
Darkness filled the room when Derek blinked his eyes open. Stretching, he felt a heaviness in his limbs that spoke of deep sleep. Standing, he crossed the room to turn on the light next to his bed. As he moved to the closet, he froze. Standing in the doorway was his mother.
“Mom?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.
“Derek,” she responded, smiling and holding out a hand to him.
Derek moved closer, his hand passing through hers, and the tears came unbidden. “Don’t cry, son,” she whispered, her face still in a soft smile. “You are strong.”
“I’m alone,” he whimpered, falling to his knees at her feet. “Laura’s gone. Peter’s in a coma. Everything is my fault. I’m alone.”
“You are never alone,” she told him, and Derek felt the ghost of her fingers running through his hair. “I will always be here, and you will find friends through your memories. Just trust your heart. Nothing is your fault, and you are never alone.”
Derek didn’t know how long he sobbed, hearing his mother’s words washing over him. He fell into an exhausted slumber. When he woke up, he was in the armchair, the cold tea on the table next to him. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind as he saw the sun peeking over the horizon. Checking his phone, he saw that it was morning and hoped it wouldn’t be too early.
Setting out on the path from the day before, he found Stiles sitting on the cabin’s porch, a thermos sitting next to him. “Welcome back, traveler!” he greeted, smiling and patting the spot next to him.
Derek settled and took the lid full of tea that Stiles handed him. Sniffing, he detected cinnamon and a bit of apple. “Will this one cause me to hallucinate?” he asked.
Stiles smirked as he took a sip. “Some teas bring memories,” he said. “This cures loneliness.”
“How?” he asked, taking a sip, the flavors running over his tongue and overwhelming his other senses.
“Join me for tea every morning for a week and ask me again,” Stiles responded.
Smiling, Derek took another sip. “Only if you join me for lunch,” he countered, and Stiles nodded, leaning into him with a smile.