Work Text:
The threads are everywhere.
They're intangible and he can see that at least one of them originates from Scott's wrist.
"Dude, can you see that string tied to your wrist? They're suddenly everywhere."
"What are you talking about bro?" Scott gives him a long look. Long enough that Stiles decides to brush it off. The voodoo mistress they'd run into earlier that day must have had some kind of effect on him. As long as it wasn't harmful he wasn't going to worry Scott about it.
"You know what, never mind. Let's head to pack night and enjoy some pizza. We deserve it after today."
Pack nights had become a standard after Erica and Boyd had been taken by the alpha pack. The distrust that ran rampant between Derek and his betas towards Scott and his group had just escalated their problems when they had the same goal. Having the two groups bond and work together had helped them handle several threats.
McCall-Hale Pack? Hale-McCall Pack? The name was a work in progress.
Making their way to Dereks loft, Stiles noticed more threads coming from more and more people.
** Earlier that day **
"I'm not here to do any harm. Your town is just a great source of power." The voodoo mistress had politely answered Scott when they'd burst into the clearing she'd been using to practice.
She'd been perfectly pleasant until Stiles had opened his big mouth and insulted her because she'd been trying to increase the luck of people in love. She'd said something quiet and soft about him soon understanding the burden.
A quick stare down between the two had ended when Scott decided there wasn't any problems with what she'd been doing and pulled Stiles away. Stiles limbs flailed and he resisted until a vicious smirk crossed the woman's face.
Stiles didn't start noticing anything until he'd turned towards Scott to plan what they were taking to pack night at Derek's loft.
_-_-_
The more he glanced around the more the world looked like it was wrapped in thin red and pinkish yarn. Yarn that only he could see? Which, what?
Scott handed him four pizza boxes and they made their way up to Derek's loft. The closer they got to the door, the brighter Scott's thread got. Which was weird enough, but then a faint pink thread shimmered into existence beside the first.
When the loft door was thrown open, Stiles stopped and stared. The red thread from Scott whipped around the room and ended in a pretty bow on Kira's wrist. Erica walked right through it. No one else was acting like anything was wrong or different.
Fully stepping into the room, he realized Scott's thread wasn't the only one. Erica's dark red thread connected her to Boyd. Isaac's disappeared into the kitchen. Lydia's was faint and looped through the window into the night.
"Stiles, are you going to share those pizzas or are you just going to stare at all of us all night?" Erica snarked.
He shook himself from his stupor and moved towards the coffee table to sit the boxes down. With his concentration focused he could almost ignore the threads. The pack settled around the room to eat and catch up.
Kira snuggled into Scotts lap, Isaac had Allison perched beside him on the arm of his chair (which answered Stiles' question about where his thread was tied to.) Lydia had placed herself on the footrest in front of Isaac and Allison. Boyd and Erica took a loveseat. Which left him sitting on the couch with Derek and Liam.
After everyone had pizza slices in hand, Derek cleared his throat, "Scott, what did you and Stiles find in the woods today?"
"A voodoo priestess. Dude, you guys should have seen her face when Stiles laughed at her." Scott answered around a mouthful of cheese and ham.
"You laughed at a voodoo priestess? Why isn't your head shrunk?" Isaac questioned with a laugh.
"Nah, she wasn't like real mad, she did say he'd learn and stared him down," Scott said, he looked at Stiles and tilted his head like a confused pup, "I wonder what she did though."
All eyes turned to him. Putting his hands up in the universal 'don't look at me' gesture, Stiles stuffed his mouth with pizza.
"His heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in the couch." Liam spoke before Stiles could react further.
"Well obviously he's not hurt so leave him alone about it while the pizza is hot." Derek commands before anything else is said.
Later in the evening, Lydia and Stiles are tasked with clean up duty while Derek takes the rest of the pack out for some scent training.
"If you keep staring down at my wrist like I've lost a hand, I'm going to smack you with it so you know for sure it's there." Lydia snaps while they wash the few drink glasses from dinner.
"Sorry, sorry!" Stiles takes a breath, "Lydia, what would make intangible red yarn attach to everyone's wrists and connect to other people? I'm thinking specifically couples?"
"You mean like the red thread of fate? The Chinese believe a red string is tied to a woman's pinky finger and is connected to the thumb of the man she's destined to be with. I mean, I guess it could go for wrists?" Lydia answers, drying the last glass. Wrapping her hand around Stiles' arms, she guides him back to the couch and sits beside him. "Stiles, does this have to do with the voodoo priestess today?"
"I think it has to. After we left I started seeing this red yarn stretched everywhere. Almost like the whole world is a ball of red yarn. Scott has one that connects with Kira, but he also has a lighter pink thread that spans to Allison. Erica and Boyd - connected. Isaac and Allison - connected. Your's just shoots off into the night." Stiles rubs his head in his hands, "Maybe I'm losing my mind again?"
"Humn, what did you laugh at the woman for trying to do? That might be key." Lydia murmures.
"She was trying to pull power from the Nameton to increase the populations luck with love. So what, she cursed me to see that people love each other?" he snorts. This is such a stupid curse if that's what it is.
"Okay, so I think she gave you the ability to see the connections between people. How fragile they are.The fact that some still exist but are ignored, hence Scott and Allison. Two who'll always love each other, but not in the same way as they're loving other people now." Lydia smiles softly, "My own thread is probably winding it's way to some godforsaken place in England. What about your thread?"
He looks towards his own wrists, for the first time noticing the absence of any threads. Red, pink, or otherwise.
"There aren't any. My wrists are threadless." He answers with a frown. He loves people. Okay, so he's not Mr. Heart On His Sleeve, but he'd been in love with Lydia for years, shouldn't he have at least a pink thread going in her direction? Then there was.. which he wasn't thinking about.
Lydia's lips thinned. She pats him on the back and says, "Well maybe you should talk to Deaton. All I have are theories. And Stiles, maybe the love has to be mutual for there to be a thread?" She watches his face fall and thinks about saying more, but decides against it when she hears the rest of the pack returning.
_-_-_
The word is repeating in his head. Mutual.
Maybe the love has to be mutual .
It's been two days of seeing the bright red and soft pink love connections wrapped around everyones wrists.
It's been one day since the heartbreak of seeing a perfect purple bow tied around his dad's wrist - no connecting string trailing from it, nestled beside a light red one that he discovered led to mama McCall.
It's only been one hour though, only one hour since he caught sight of the red thread tied to Derek's wrist.
When he'd gone to Deaton, he'd gotten zero answers and just more theories. Deaton had scoffed and told him he was a druid, his magic was nothing like voodoo. Deaton said the curse would likely go away once Stiles learned his lesson.
_-_-_
Stiles isn't the kind of guy to mope, he's always been more of an I'm-going-to-ignore-this-problem-until-it-goes-away kind of fella.. but he's moping.
Scott is spread across his mattress munching happily on some cheese puffs, and Stiles is at his desk researching breaking voodoo curses. "You know, you were the one who laughed at her Stiles. She didn't insult you. She's trying to teach you something." Scott says in his I'm-the-wise-Alpha voice.
"She didn't want to teach me anything, she wants to torture me. Obviously she knew I had feelings for someone and they didn't feel the same, and what better way to get back at me then to show me that?" He knows his voice is hitting some panicked high notes and that he's probably hurting Scott's sensitive ears, but he can't control it any more than he can stomp down the bitter envy of Scott's pretty red threaded bracelet. "Added bonus of showing me that basically everyone I know is in love an-and did you even see the way Derek reacted when I said I was pretty sure Lydia and I had figured it out and I explained it?"
Scott's puppy smile falters. "You said you saw a red thread on Derek today? After you told me the other night he didn't have one? Maybe he wasn't thinking about love until you mentioned it? Maybe you saying you could see love connections made him think about someone and he realized it was love when he started to worry you could see the connection?"
"He would normally stop by and check on my research when I'm working on something, but this is really bothering him. I saw him earlier by accident. I know he didn't think I'd be at Deaton's or he would have stayed away." Stiles sighs. He's grown accustomed to Derek dropping in his window when he's researching something. He normally pulls up Stiles' extra chair and gives little inputs that come from a lifetime of being supernatural. "Maybe he's been seeing someone and wanted to keep it a secret? I mean the pack really likes to joke about the fact that he always seems to fall for murders. Braeden being the exception that she was a murder, but mostly for the good guys. Maybe that's who it is?"
"Nah, they haven't had contact in weeks. She continued with her search for Malia's mom with Malia. Though I think she's gave up on killing the desert wolf in favor of Malia getting to know her mom." Scott replies as he gathers his things up. "Well I'd better head out. I'm due at Kira's for game night with her parents."
He's out the door before Stiles' thinks to question it. When he does realize why Scott's leaving stuck him as odd, he brushes it off thinking Scott just didn't want to hear him complain. They were supposed to be having a bro night, but they can always have one after Stiles has fixed his curse.
Minutes later he's pushed himself away from his computer and he's starfished across his bed. "Why'd I laugh at that woman? I mean, fuck, I could use a little luck in love myself, obviously."
It's with that thought that he gets it. He laughed at the woman when she was just trying to help people out. When did he become such an ass? A small voice answers, " This isn't a new development.." and he can agree that it's not. Sometime between his mom's passing, his dad's drinking, and being the school punching bag because of his ADHD, he'd hardened himself and started firing back with snark and sarcasm. Pulling a pillow over his head he groans and tries to block out the memory of a bright red thread twisted around Derek's wrist.
Which just makes him more of an ass, doesn't it? Who deserves love more than Derek? Okay, so his wrist is still bare and that comes with a whole truckful of hurt, because he'd been stupidly hopeful that Derek would have a thread connecting to him.
I literally just decided I'm an ass, he wouldn't love someone he already knows is a jerk. He finds those by accident.
It's the unmistakable sound of a werewolf opening his bedroom window that has him pulling the pillow from his head and trying to stomp down the self-pity scent he knows he's putting off.
He would like to believe his heart didn't just crash down into his stomach at the realization that it's the current cause of his distress climbing into his room. But he's being honest with himself today, remember?
So, can a heart be digested in a human stomach quickly enough to kill him and put him out of his misery?
"Why haven't you said anything yet?" Derek growls at him the second he's closed the window.
Stiles jerks his head up and waves his arms about, "What are you talking about dude? And hey, remember I talked about those things called front doors - where you knock to be allowed in."
Normally the sight of claws wouldn't phase him, but when they're ripping through the fabric of his button down flannel, he's no less brave for audibly gulping. Derek's hand come close to shredding the material completely when he yanks Stiles off the bed to stand in front of him.
"Why. Haven't. You. Said. Anything. Yet." The words are mixed with snarls and glances to and from their wrists. Derek's in his beta shift and Stiles can't figure out what he's supposed to have said. Taking a moment he looks hard at Derek's wrist again.
The bright red thread is still there. Beautifully looped around Derek's lightly hair dusted wrist. That's as far as it goes though. It's just tied around in a perfect bow, going nowhere. Just like his dad's purple bow.
Stiles' brain is pinging around faster than he can follow, the thoughts rush around, tangling up and tripping over themselves. He'd been sure that the purple bow around his father's wrist had been the connection to his mother. The darker hue on the red scale signifying his mothers death. The lack of string trailing to another person the product of one of the two being deceased.
Derek's thread was still bright red, but lead nowhere. Did that mean Stiles' theory was all wrong?
"I don't know what I'm supposed to be saying." It sounds weak to his own ears. He's confused and still feeling the bitter sting of disappointment that the thread isn't his.
"I know you've saw my thread by now. Where's the jokes? The sarcastic commentary that comes with you finding out anything embarrassing." Derek's still growling around his words, but his claws have slid away and he's released Stiles' shirt. Neither have moved back from each other though.
"Uh, well, umn.." He can't find words. The being-an-ass thing is coming back to bite him again, for the fifth (maybe seventh?) time in the past forty-eight hours. "I'm not sure what jokes I would have? Your thread just sits around your wrist. It's not going towards anyone. Lydia and I had this theory about me only seeing mutual threads, but after seeing yours and my dad's, I can't be sure. There's also the mystery of the fact that I'm seeing yours, and it might not be mutual, but I can't see my own. Which I'm positive isn't mutual. So I just really don't know what you want me to say." He's glaring to intently at his own wrists to realize his ramble has stunned Derek.
"You don't have a thread at all?" Derek's voice is rough, like he hadn't expected to speak at all.
"You don't have to say it like I'm fucking pathetic, okay." Stiles snaps, "I'd decided just about twenty seconds before you busted into my room that I'm an ass and I don't deserve anyone to love me. Especially the person that I care about. They deserve the best of the best and we all know that's never going to be Stiles Stilinski."
Either he's been drugged or the fabric of the universe has ripped in the past few moments because Stiles is suddenly being pulled into a tight embrace. Strong arms are settling across his shoulders and heavy hands are pressing at the base of his skull - pushing his face into the fabric of a soft maroon sweater.
"Who would deserve better than you? You, Stiles Stilinski, the guy who didn't run away from his best friend when he started sprouting claws and fangs? Who would deserve someone better than a guy who throws himself in front of bullets for supernatural creatures who will heal - when he won't. Who could ask for more than your unfailing loyalty? Maybe you are an ass, but you're so much more Stiles. Who deserves someone better than who I would consider is the best?" Derek's words are soft and spoken like he can't raise his voice or a very fragile glass around them will shatter. It's more words than Stiles has ever heard him speak at once.
The tears are hot as they track their way down Stiles' face. The deep sob that raises up is muffled against Derek's shoulder. He pulls back slightly, he knows once he says this, Derek's surprising support will be ripped away. "If you felt that way. If you thought I was the best. The-then," another hard sob, "that thread would lead to me. "
He was right, Derek's arms drop away from him and he stumbles backwards. Stiles can't take the words back, can't shield himself with any lies. Werewolf hearing is more reliable than the polygraph machine the Sheriff's station owns. He can't do anything but feel like his heart is in tatters at Derek's feet.
The tears are running too fast now for Stiles to make out any expression on Derek's face. His breath is jerking out of his lungs in quiet sobs. He thinks it's worse that Derek hasn't fled yet. He's just standing in front of him watching him fall apart. Doesn't the man understand he doesn't want anyone witnessing this breakdown?
"I thought it did."
He almost misses the whisper. If his lungs hadn't of chosen that exact moment to hitch and stall his sobbing, the awed confession would have fallen on deaf ears. Swiping his sleeve across his face, he drags away his tears to clear his vision. He blinks three times to be sure of what he's seeing, but there's a delicate red bow tied around his wrist. It's bright, almost pulsing red. Hope flares to life inside him, but it's still a bit reserved when he realizes his thread doesn't connect to Derek's.
Derek moves back towards him quickly, wrapping his fingers around Stiles' wrists and tugging gently to get his attention. "Stiles, it's why I was so angry." He swallows hard and pushes past the awkward stillness from Stiles. "You didn't say anything that night at the loft. You didn't laugh or make any comment at all about my thread being attached to you, and I thought you were ashamed that I cared about you like that. That you were planning some elaborate prank to make fun of me. So I've been avoiding you the past few days. Thinking, maybe you didn't see it? Maybe you were too freaked out to realize the thread was coming from me? I couldn't tell and it just kept floating into my mind that you found it hilarious. Yet you didn't say anything."
"Running into you today at Deaton's was the last straw. It was you, Deaton, me, and a bunch of animals. Surely you realized the thread was coming from me. How could you miss it? Then you left quickly and the smell of pain was so strong. I thought, fuck, he doesn't think it's funny. He's disgusted. He's repulsed by the thought of me wanting him." He pauses, rubbing a thumb across the knuckles of Stiles' thin hands. "It still didn't make sense to me though. You're never quiet about things that disgust you. You're never quiet about anything. So it built until I couldn't take it anymore. I had to know why you hadn't said anything to me"
Stiles swallows the rest of his sobs, pulls his hands from Derek's hold. He's got to talk to Derek like an adult. "When we were at the loft you didn't have a thread. I didn't either, and when Lydia and I talked about it, she theorized that the love had to be mutual for there to be a thread. I just assumed that my thread wasn't there because there was no way you felt the same about me, and that maybe you didn't have a thread because you weren't reaching out to anyone after Jennifer." Derek's smiling softly at him, but the nerves are still humming beneath his skin. "I love you. I love you so much. Fuck if we have a connecting thread. I love you."
Hands come up to frame his face, calloused fingers tilt his chin upwards. "I love you too." Soft lips press down on his, gone as quickly as they came. It's not enough. Not nearly. Stiles loops his arms around Derek's neck and pull him down into a second kiss.
He's taken the time to wet his lips with a swipe of his tongue, making the slide of flesh smoother. Derek growls lowly, pushes his fingers into Stiles' hair and devours. They break apart, both covered in a faint blush - lips kiss bruised and stinging from soft nips.
Stiles feels the weird tug before he can say anything in response to the kisses. Looking for the source of the sensation he glances at his hand. His thread is flaring to life with deep red color. Part of the neat bow slithering out, flowing through the air like magically manipulated silk. Tracking the movement with his eyes, he watches fascinated as it gets closer to Derek's and pulls a response from his bow. It too flares in color and one end slides out shyly to tangle with Stiles' until they're perfectly fused. The brilliant red color settling into the yarn, dimming only slightly with the completion of the bond.
"It connected. Our threads reach out for each other!" Stiles' voice is overcome with emotion and he falls into Derek's chest.
"I hope you've truly learned your lesson young one. Love is a gift and trying to help people find it is a rewarding pursuit. The sight will leave you now, but remember the lesson."
Tensing at the unfamiliar voice reverberating in his head, Stiles looked at his hand. The thread was gone. It was almost depressing to lose that visual bond between him and Derek so quickly.
"Stiles, is everything alright?" Derek's voice is warm with concern, and peace settles over Stiles.
"Everything is just fine. I'm going to kiss you again now." Stiles replied, tipping himself forward with a smile.