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“A midnight walk in the woods! It’ll be romantic!” Stiles shouted as his feet slapped the ground beneath him, the branches of the trees whipping past him, cutting into his skin.
The night had started out romantic, holding hands while walking between the trees and listening to the animals scurrying away from Derek. They had been talking about their upcoming wedding; their matching engagement rings reflecting the moonlight as it filtered through the leaves on the trees. They had stopped to sit on a large rock overlooking a clearing to talk and snuggle up together when witches showed up, and everything quickly went to hell.
“Shut up, and maybe they won’t follow the sound of your yelling,” Derek growled back, his pace slightly quicker than Stiles but keeping slower to make sure his mate was safe from danger as well.
“How did we not know there were witches in the territory?” Stiles argued, gasping for breath as he stumbled over a log. He clutched at Derek’s hand to keep upright and let him drag him along behind himself. “Maybe I should hop on your back!”
Derek managed to roll his eyes while running for his life, but he slowed down enough for Stiles to clamber on, and their pace quickened. Stiles' breath flew from his chest as the scenery around him blurred in a way that would have been amazing if he weren’t scared to death.
The trail leading back to the house appeared, and he urged Derek on with whispered encouragement as he struggled to catch his breath. Derek leaped over a fallen log and proceeded to hit an invisible wall and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Stiles rolled off of his back and landed face down next to him, a mouthful of fungus. Struggling to sit up, he spat out the offensive item and wiped a hand over his mouth, watching Derek do the same.
Evil cackling echoed through the woods around them, the branches of the trees trembling. “This can’t be good,” Stiles said, flipping Derek off when he gave him a ‘you think?’ look.
Pushing himself to stand, Stiles pulled his phone out and started taking photos of the mushrooms. He thought about taking a sample, but he didn’t have anything to transport it in and didn’t want to risk causing a mass spread of the fungus if it was dangerous in any way. He’d had it in his mouth and felt alright, but he’d long ago learned that first impressions could be deceiving. He watched Derek scent the air and sneeze a few times.
“Bless you,” Stiles said, stepping carefully to the edge of the spread of mushrooms.
“Shut up,” Derek grumbled, falling into step next to him, and Stiles stepped back in surprise, crushing one of the damn things under his foot, sending up another cloud of dust. “I think they’re gone.”
“We should call the Pack. Try to find out what these things are and if they’re dangerous,” Stiles said. “Research is my favorite way to end a date night,” he added sarcastically.
“Maybe we should just end date nights if this is such a problem for you,” Derek snapped, striding off quickly through the woods, leaving Stiles gaping after him.
The longer he stood there, and the farther away Derek got, the angrier Stiles grew. He could feel actual rage in his gut, and while a small part of his brain knew that something wasn’t right, the more significant part shook out his hands and aimed a spark into the woods, grinning evilly when Derek let out a roar. “Bullseye,” Stiles whispered, blowing on the tip of his finger and taking off in a run to catch up with the inconsiderate wolf.
He burst out of the woods just as Derek peeled away from the house in his Camaro. Stiles coughed at the dust and threw up a middle finger. He debated sending another spark and popping a tire or two but didn’t want to risk damaging the car; it was too pretty to be ruined because its owner was a dick. Hopping into his Jeep, he headed off to Dr. Deaton’s office, figuring the man could help him identify the mushroom and possibly get answers. He had no idea where Derek went, probably to look at himself in a mirror.
Arriving at the vet’s office, he saw Derek’s Camaro in the parking lot, and his lip curled in disgust. Huffing out a breath, he climbed out of the Jeep just as his phone dinged with an incoming message.
Send the pic.
Three simple words from Derek that made Stiles see red. No please, no thank you, not even an ounce of consideration. Just a direct order, and everyone knew how Stiles felt about those. He flipped off the door to the vet’s office as he went to pocket his phone just as his phone went off again.
NOW!
Rolling his eyes, Stiles shouted “Fuck you!” at the closed door, jumping when it was yanked open, and Derek stood there flashing his blue eyes at him. “You aren’t my Alpha! You aren’t even an Alpha, so don’t even think you can boss me around!” He yelled, stepping back when Derek grabbed for him with a clawed hand. “Hands off and get out of my way!”
“What’s going on?” Scott asked, ducking around Derek to look at Stiles in shock. “You guys never fight.”
“We always fight,” Stiles snapped and shoved past both werewolves shouting for Deaton as he went. The sooner they figured this whole thing out, the sooner Stiles could go back home and stop having to look at the ugly Beta with anger issues.
“Go trip over something,” Derek snarled, trying to grab for Stiles again, but Scott stopped him, his face creased in confusion.
“Doc, we need help,” he called, dragging Derek after him towards the exam room in the back where Stiles was showing Deaton his phone. Deaton was frowning as Lydia entered the room.
“This better be an emergency. I skipped out on the movies for this,” Lydia snapped, freezing when her eyes fell on Derek, who was being held back by Scott. “Um, what happened? Is he feral?”
“No, just an asshole,” Stiles snapped before turning his attention back to Deaton. “So, do you know what this is?”
Deaton frowned as he stepped over to the bookshelf and pulled down a book. Flipping through the pages, he stopped on one, and his frown deepened, followed by a sigh. “ Boletus amor vastabat, ” he responded with a shake of his head.
“Destroyer of Love Mushroom?” Lydia said after a moment. “Seriously?” She looked over to where Scott was still holding Derek back, and Stiles was taunting him by shooting sparks of magic at his feet. She would’ve laughed at the flowers that started sticking to the toes of his boots if Derek hadn’t broken free at that moment and managed one brutal swipe at Stiles, cutting into the back of his hand. “Seriously,” she repeated with finality and crossed to the first aid kit on the wall.
“So, how long until it wears off?” Scott asked. “Stiles, knock it off!”
“Not until he leaves,” Stiles snapped, shooting off another spark, this one making Derek snarl as blood appeared above his eyes in a mockery of the eyebrows that disappeared in his Beta shift. “Or dies.”
“If anyone’s dying, it’s you!” Derek roared, and it took everything in Scott to hold him back.
“Doc!” Scott snapped.
Calm as always, Deaton studied them. “Unfortunately, Mr. Stilinski is correct. The only way to break the curse is for one of them to die at the hand of the other.”
Scott looked thoughtful. “I’ll hold Derek. Stiles, you kill him.”
Derek roared as an evil smirk covered Stiles’ face, and Lydia gave an indignant shout, but Deaton continued speaking over the racket. “And then the surviving member of the couple will suffer inconsolable misery at killing their one true love until they perish by their own hand.”
Stiles wasn’t paying attention and raised his hand to send off a killing blow when he was knocked off his feet by a Banshee scream. Sitting up, he glared at Lydia before turning his attention back to where Derek and Scott were curled up with their hands over their ears, whimpering in pain. He started to raise his hand again when Lydia grabbed him by the wrist.
“Don’t make me scream again,” she threatened, working on cleaning the cuts on the back of Stiles’ hand. “You are not killing Derek because I am not losing you. We will figure out how to fix this.”
“Fix what? Nothing’s broken,” Derek snarled. “Except maybe my eardrums.” He tried to dodge at Stiles again, but Lydia held up her hand and opened her mouth, freezing him in his steps.
“Nothing’s broken?” she questioned, eyebrows raised. “I am a practical woman and think that fairy tales are things of whimsy without which this world would be vastly improved. Except for one which I have seen in action and makes me believe in magic.”
“Oh yeah? Which one? Little red riding hood?” Stiles snarked, trying to wiggle his fingers free to shoot another bolt at Derek.
“I thought Little Red was a cute little girl, not a gangly asshole who never made it out of puberty,” Derek grumbled, ducking when Scott smacked him on the back of the head.
“You-”
“No.” Lydia cut off Stiles' tirade and squeezed his hand more roughly than necessary to draw his attention away from Derek. “The Tale of the Wolf and the Spark.”
“That’s not a thing,” Scott said, snapping his mouth shut with a clack when Lydia glared at him.
“It’s the story of two idiots who found each other and saw each other in ways that no one else could appreciate,” she said. “If anyone is going to beat this damn cursed fungi, it’s going to be the Wolf and the Spark.”
She sounded so confident that the other two, who weren’t currently powerless against an evil spore, nodded in agreement. Unfortunately, it distracted them enough that Derek broke free of Scott and dove at Stiles again. Stiles leaped onto the exam table and, using a foot to the middle of Derek’s back, launched himself towards the door of the office. Grinning, he threw another spark at Derek’s butt before cackling and escaping out of the vet’s office and into the parking lot.
“Let him go,” Lydia said. “We’ll keep them separated. Stiles can go back to the house while we keep Derek here-”
“Like hell, you will!” Derek shouted, racing out the door after Stiles. “That’s my family home! He is not setting foot inside of it!”
“Your family home with your family trapped inside was burned to the ground by your psychotic, mass-murdering girlfriend, the first of two you dated!” Stiles screamed as he strode to his Jeep.
“Okay, maybe we should let Derek kill Stiles,” Scott said, mouth gaping as Lydia gave a slight nod of the head.
“Even if we solve this, I don’t know if they’ll get past that comment,” she responded.
Roaring, Derek raced past him and literally picked up Stiles’ Jeep and launched it through the air and into the dumpster behind the animal clinic. The sound of crunching metal and shattering glass filled the night, followed by a scream that rivaled Lydia’s when Stiles threw himself at Derek.
“You killed Roscoe, you bastard!” He shot spark after spark at Derek, causing him to retreat before lunging at him.
Scott tried to dive into the fray and was thrown backward by one of Stiles’ sparks against the twisted wreckage of the Jeep. As he lay on the ground next to the dumpster, his bones knitting back together, the radio in Roscoe began playing. The volume was loud, a necessity when the Jeep went anything over forty miles per hour, making communication nearly impossible.
Lydia stood helplessly watching Stiles and Derek fight; her hands clamped over her mouth, trying to hold back any urges to scream that might arise. The hands dropped as she identified the music floating through the air. She looked between the Jeep and Scott just as Isaac appeared, slightly breathless from running from his small apartment on the other side of town.
“Why are Derek and Stiles fighting with a power ballad as their soundtrack?” he asked, hurrying to Scott and helping him rise to his feet.
Scott pushed Isaac off and started to throw himself at Derek and Stiles again when he realized they’d both frozen in place. Their eyes were locked on each other, but no part of them moved. Derek shifted back to human as they watched, and the sparks around Stiles’ fingers faded away to nothing.
“Now that I’ve tried to talk to you and make you understand, all you have to do is close your eyes and just reach out your hands.”
Stiles’ lips began moving along to the song as his eyes filled with tears. Derek’s arms moved, his hands reaching out, and Stiles took them, breathing deeply. Closing their eyes, they both took deep breaths as life and sound came back to them.
“And touch me, hold me close. Don’t ever let me go. More than words is all I ever needed you to show. Then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me, ‘cause I’d already know,” Stiles sang softly, and a moment later, Derek was in his arms, face buried in his neck.
“I didn’t mean it,” Stiles murmured into his hair as they swayed side to side, dancing to the song as it continued to play. “You know I didn’t mean it.”
“I know. I know,” Derek said, his voice choked with tears. “I’ll fix Roscoe. He’ll be good as new. I swear.”
Lydia and Scott started to back away slowly, leaving the two of them alone with their reconciliation. They ducked back into the vet’s clinic while Isaac was asking what he had missed. Lydia stood in front of Deaton with her arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised.
“What did I tell you? The Wolf and the Spark.”
Deaton gave his enigmatic smile and nodded, picking up a pen and making notes in the book’s page’s margin with the mushroom’s description. “I would never have suspected nineties music would counteract a centuries-old curse.”
“It’s their song,” Isaac supplied, grinning when everyone turned to look at him in surprise. “Trust me. Whenever I used to come home and hear that song playing, I made myself scarce.” He shuddered at the memory, and laughter filled the room, lightening the mood for the first time all night.
“With Derek’s reticent demeanor, it’s actually fairly apropos,” Lydia said with a shrug. She glanced over her shoulder when the Camaro’s engine roared to life. “Think they’ll be dancing to it at their wedding?”
“I’m just glad there’s still going to be a wedding,” Scott responded. “Even if it means dancing to the cheesiest love song known to man.”
“Well, crisis averted, I’m hungry,” Isaac asked, heading for the door. Scott and Lydia followed, arguing about where they were going to eat, leaving Deaton alone in the office. Placing the book back on the shelf, he moved through the building, locking the doors before checking on the animals in the back. When everything was secure, he moved into his office and sat at his computer staring at the blank word document on the screen.
Cracking his fingers, he laid his hands on the home keys. “The Wolf and the Spark,” he whispered under his breath as the letters appeared on the screen.