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Awareness of one's surroundings has never been one of Stiles’ strong suits. It’s not that she doesn’t care, or that’s she oblivious or inobservant, she just usually has way too much swimming around her brain to focus her attention outwards rather than inwards.
It’s why, she recalls, she had been so stoked that Dr.Deaton had agreed to teach Stiles his Druidic ways. Peace, balance, calm, in the days of fighting for her and her friend’s lives, all of those were very welcoming and becoming traits.
It’s too bad she’d never been made for anything other than Mischief. Trickery. Chaos.
Her mom knew it.
The Nogitsune knew it.
Deaton knew it too.
She’s sure if Deaton could remember her, he’d regret teaching her.
But alas, the Wild Hunt had stolen Stiles away and with her, any memory of her. She’s gotten out, sure, she’s done what she has to to survive, and she clawed her way out of the miserable train station, back into a world that no longer remembers her, with no balance to be found.
Since then, she’s worked on herself. Stiles 2.0.
Particularly, she’s worked on her awareness, so she knows without turning her head, that there’s a man, a wolf , at her side.
The hair on her arms stands up, her fingers sting, like little bursts of electricity are jumping from one to the next erratically.
Predator , the alertness says.
Prey , Stiles’ hunger disagrees.
She busies herself with unwrapping a Baci , and takes a moment to read the…not fortune, she ponders for a second, maybe sentiment, inked in blue on a small slip of parchment and folds it after a moment with a small smile on her face before she tucks it away and eats the chocolate in one rather undainty bite.
The wolf snorts.
Stiles raises an eyebrow at him, mischievous grin budding.
“What,” She asks, “You’ve never seen a Darach eat chocolate before?”
To his credit, the wolf doesn’t even startle.
“I can’t say I have.” He replies, the deep tone and British accent (pretentiously kept) send shivers down her spine. It’s familiar to her in ways she is not to him.
There are certain quirks with being the only one to remember a shared past.
Stiles hums. “That’s fair, can’t say I’ve ever seen a blind man in a museum. I’d imagine the art loses its lustre when one can’t see it, Deucalion.” She trails off looking at his eyes, a stunning blue in the light of day.
“Although,” She continues, “I’ve heard your vision has been restored.”
He hums this time. “Miraculous isn’t it, the power of a Dark Druid.”
Stiles’ grin widened, baring her teeth.
“Is that what you’re after, power? Shouldn’t you have learned your lesson by now, Alpha ?”
She purrs the last word to watch his pupils dilate, watches him as she licks her lips clean of the sweetness from her earlier treat.
“I know nothing about you, and yet you already know so much about me, haven’t you also heard I’ve changed my ways?”
“I have. And at the behest of a cub.” She drawls. “A bitten wolf not two years old and his ‘pack’ of misfits succeeded in taking down a pack of Alphas. Born wolves. You’re lucky to be alive even, so I suppose I could see why you’d change.”
“I suppose.” He echoes.
“However,” Stiles murmurs, stepping closer, “One must remember power isn’t all bad.”
The look in his eyes announces his disbelief, and she can practically hear the paintings around her utter Hypocrite near subvovally.
“Fair,” She laughs, drawing back, “But it’s simply how you use it, Deuc. You had a vision once. Naive, but things always get better with age. Experience.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He growls.
The air between them radiates with the sound, with the shivering intent of dark, ambitious, and sultry varieties. Everything about this encounter had gained an intensity going way past the point where the friends of another Stiles’ life would have reeled her back in.
This Stiles however, she’ll go past simply making a wolf growl.
She shakes her head slowly, refuses to tell him with a sly uplift of her lips as the growl strengthens in his chest.
“You speak with a confidence unbefitting of one so young. Tell me, did no one ever teach you to hold your tongue?” He bestows upon her a dangerous borderline amused smile. “If you aren’t careful, it might get bitten off.”
Stiles reprimands him joyfully. “Ah now, Deuc. Don’t lie, you’re coming to like my tongue and all it’s silver promises.”
He quirks a brow. “Am I, now?”
“Uh huh.” She replies, feeling childlike in her glee. “And I can promise you’ll only become fonder of it.”
“An ambitious promise,” He muses. “I’m sure, for any tongue less wicked than yours.”
Stiles coos. “See? You do know me already.”
A smile grows on his face and Stiles can hear the echo of promises, promises from a statue down the hall.
“I can always know you better.” Deucalion counters.
Stiles marvels at the feeling for the first time of many future times, being the Hunter rather than the Prey.
“Your place of mine?” She inquires as his arm wraps around her waist.
“How old are you?” He poses.
Stiles shrugs elegantly. “Not a soul remembers.” Under his chuckles he doesn’t notice her heart’s steady beat.
Stiles remembers of course, but she misplaced that pesky soul.
Whoops.
The Demon Wolf escorts her out of the building, and Stiles tells him things about each piece they pass, only half present while her mind thinks about that slip of parchment in her pocket.
Come ti vidi m’innamorai. E tu sorridi perché lo sai.
I loved you at first sight. And you smile because you know it.
Love or Power.
Love and Power.
Perhaps, she turns her head his way, just in time to see the light of a setting February sun turn his hair golden, the plains of his face not reflecting the stories and tragedy she knows are there.
She’s had love, she’s had power, never together but perhaps with him—
“Stiles.” Deucalion beckons, out of her thoughts and into his car. She goes easily.
Curled up in his sheets, wrapped in his arms, weeks turned to months after, the perhaps dissipates leaving only….surety.
Deucalion will give her both, and she’ll return the favour.
She might not have a soul, but the surety in her breast knew Deuc could restore her heart.
She doesn’t realize until much later that she hadn’t given him her name.