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Day Zero: The Curse
9pm, Beacon Hills High School
Stiles snapped a picture of the letters that swooped their way across the front of Lydia’s locker in a tidy, even cursive and blinked rapidly when the reflection of the flash blinded him. “Shit, ow, that definitely damaged my retinas.”
He double-checked to make sure the words in the picture were legible before tucking his phone back into his pocket. Stiles turned towards the door and made it about two steps away from the lockers when he saw it – a small sphere of bright green light that hovered in place at the end of the long hall. He knew it wasn’t a decoration or light fixture of any kind because the sphere was surrounded by a thin layer of mist and kept making tiny swaying movements, as if somehow signaling impatientience.
Stiles glanced around apprehensively and took a slow step in the direction of the light. Then another. It dipped and swayed more forcefully to the left and suddenly he felt the desperate urge to follow wherever it wanted to lead. In order to calm his fraying nerves and prevent an unnecessary panic attack, Stiles began explaining to no one, “This is most likely a will-o’-the-wisp. Wisps are meant to mislead and confuse travelers, even though I am the only one traveling and this is my high school, which I am definitely not going to get lost within. Wisps are also known as jack-o-lanterns or hinkypunks, and have different names and purposes in many different cultures across the world.”
He ran out of fun facts about wisps very quickly and simply followed the mysterious orb in silence, wondering what its purpose could possibly be. Maybe it’ll take me to whoever is trying to curse Lydia. She did mention seeing a weird green light yesterday when we were texting about the locker issue… Carefully, making sure to sweep his eyes back and forth for any signs of danger every few seconds (like Derek had taught him), Stiles continued tailing the wisp through the dark, empty hallways of Beacon Hills High.
By the fifth or sixth turn down a different hall, Stiles’ mind felt uncomfortably blank. Empty. He was simply floating along behind the wisp like a puppet held up on shaky strings, his usually busy thoughts muffled by something even more powerful than ADHD. The sensation was familiar – Stiles had an unfortunate amount of firsthand knowledge on mind control and possession – and he struggled violently to loosen the magic’s hold on him.
But the spellcaster was strong, and not even his burgeoning skills with his Spark could compete with their power. In the distance he heard one of the school’s metal doors slamming open. So many different voices erupted into frightened cries at once that it was damn near cacophonous. He noted Derek and Scott’s shouts along with several members of their packs, all searching for him.
“Stiles!? Where are you? Stiles!”
“I’m here,” he whispered. The slightest movement of his lips and lungs felt like it took herculean effort, even as his feet moved him steadily along behind the green wisp. He prayed that one of the werewolves would pick up on his heartbeat or his scent or even his desperate murmurs. “Somebody please help me.”
The energy guiding his body took him to the gym, where a fucking spinning wheel sat at the center of the basketball court like a scene from an actual, literal fairytale. The out-of-place contraption glowed with the same eerie green light as the not-wisp, which disappeared as soon as Stiles' stepped out of the hallway and onto the waxy wooden floor of the gym. Closer, but still too far away to be helpful, he could hear Derek calling after him. The alpha sounded uncharacteristically frightened; Stiles’ heart skipped a beat at the implications of Derek being scared in this situation.
Stiles’ arm lifted away from his side against his will as the rest of him continued gliding forward. Every measured step brought his raised fingertip ever closer to the point of the glinting metal spindle and Stiles felt himself sinking below a wave of panic. The absolute lack of control he had over his limbs sent him careening from panic to outright terror, especially when he remembered exactly what was about to happen.
He knew this story. He’d probably seen it and read it a hundred times before. Fuck, Stiles even knew some of the catchier songs from the Disney movie by heart. In a sad, last-ditch attempt to avoid losing all hope as his inevitable fate drew ever closer, Stiles sang awkwardly, “But if I know you, I’ll know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dr-”
“Stiles!”
There was a brief pinprick of pain in his fingertip, a blinding flash of green light, and then… nothing.
8:30pm, Derek’s Loft
“Have you guys seen or heard from Stiles yet?” Lydia asked, glancing around the room. Scott sat against the corner of the couch with his arm around Isaac’s shoulders. Ethan and Aiden sat side-by-side on the floor in front of the bored-looking couple, tapping their fingernails against the floorboards in alternating patterns. Jackson had the armchair closest to Lydia’s side of the couch, which still remained empty since she was standing in the kitchen doorway. The banshee raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Well? Does anyone know where he is?”
“He texted me earlier and said he was going to the school to grab some pictures of that rhyme,” Scott answered. “The one on your locker.”
“How long ago did he text you?”
Scott glanced at his phone. “It’s been a little over an hour.”
“So we should probably head over to the school and look for him, then!” Lydia huffed. Isaac stood and pulled Scott up after him; the rest of the pack moved toward the door in clumps, already deciding how they’d split up the cars. Lydia glanced over at Aiden, who was heading for the kitchen. “Where are you going?”
“To get Derek.”
“Why?”
“He’ll want to know if Stiles is missing.”
“Again I ask why?” Lydia frowned.
“Because Stiles is h-” Ethan elbowed Aiden in the side to cut him off.
“Stiles is what?” Scott asked.
“Stiles is his ally,” Ethan finished the sentence in Aiden’s place. “He’s our ally. And our friend. Sort of.”
“He’s certainly an acquired taste,” Scott agreed. “Anyway, let’s get going. An hour is like a year in supernatural shenanigans time and you know how much chaos Stiles tends to attract when left to his own devices.”
9pm, Beacon Hills High School
Scott, Isaac and Lydia met up with the rest of the Hale pack in the parking lot behind the music wing. Lydia got out of Scott’s back seat and glanced between the wolves. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised a well-manicured but judgmental eyebrow. “What’s with all the leather jackets, guys? Like, I get it, you’re werewolves and you all run together, but do you really need to lean that hard into one aesthetic? Would you like me to start referring to Stiles as ‘Sandy’ or something?”
Derek blinked at her, his own brows already furrowed. “What? Why would you do that?”
The banshee sighed. “Nevermind. Let’s just go find our favorite twunk before he gets mortally wounded or kidnapped or eaten…”
“I can already smell him,” Scott tilted his head to the side. “Whatever is going on has him majorly spooked and– Shit, guys, I can hear him moving. He’s heading for the gym!”
The motley crew of rescuers burst into the school. Every avenue leading from the front door to the basketball court was covered by two or three werewolves in full tracking mode. They shouted as they ran, trying to scare off any potential predators and alert the human of their presence at the same time. “Stiles!? Where are you? Stiles!”
Far away and far too faintly, Derek heard Stiles whisper, “I’m here. Somebody please help me.”
He barely realized how fast he was running until he was already at the end of the hallway leading to the school gymnasium, stopped dead in his tracks by a noxious cloud of Stiles’ fear. It was Derek’s least favorite scent in the entire world and it was clogging the tiled hall from floor to ceiling. The alpha was about to dart forward when he heard Stiles speak again.
The younger man’s voice was thin and high, trembling with anxiety as he sang a short snatch of words that sent Derek sprinting forward: “But if I know you, I’ll know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dr-”
The melody cut short just as Derek reached the doorway with Scott close on his heels. Both werewolves were blown off their feet, blinded by the wall of lime green magic that surged out through the wide gym doors. Derek’s scream felt ripped from his throat, even more primal than a howl. “Stiles!”
The twins arrived moments later and helped Derek to his feet. Isaac, Lydia, and Jackson arrived next and assisted Scott. Isaac wiped the dust from Scott’s jacket and ran his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair to straighten it out, ignoring the looks he got from Erica and Boyd as they joined the group. Erica was the first to speak. “What just happened? We weren’t close enough to get hit by the blastwave but it sounded bad.”
“Stiles must have triggered some kind of spell,” Derek practically growled. “And not a simple, easy-to-break one, either. That was something powerful and dangerous.”
The two intermingled packs approached the gym doors with caution, Scott and Derek in the lead for safety. In the middle of the basketball court stood a tall, slender woman draped in a long black cloak. Two dark horns protruded from the top of her head, partially obscured by her wild black hair. Her lips curled into a smug grin when she saw their expressions of obvious dismay.
“You poor, simple fools, thinking you could defeat me, the Mistress of All Evil! Well…” the witch swept her sleeve aside to reveal Stiles. The pale teen was sprawled across the ground, his face partially obscured where it rested against his elbow. His other arm was tucked snugly against his chest, supporting his slumped torso. The witch smirked when she added, “Here’s your precious human.”
Derek bit back the sudden and violent urge to shift. Stiles was already in a dangerous situation, the last thing he needed was for the most competent werewolf in the room to lose his head. Instead the furious alpha channeled his energy into asking: “What did you do to him?”
The witch, whoever she was, seemed taken aback by his sudden interruption. Her intelligent green eyes flickered between Scott, Isaac, Derek, and the unmoving Stiles at her feet. She laughed, loud and self-congratulatory, and the sound set Derek’s nerves on edge. “Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise? I set my trap for a peasant–” she looked between Scott and Isaac then turned to Derek “– and lo! I catch a Prince.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It was my intention to curse that stupid boy to sleep forever,” she gestured dismissively in Isaac’s direction. She paused her explanation to give Derek a meaningful once-over, then she looked between the other members of the pack. “I knew his alpha lover would be heartbroken over his loss and likely go feral. A feral wolf can be so very useful you know, but now… Well…”
“Well what?” Derek demanded. “Stiles wasn’t your target so just wake him up.”
“That would be such a waste of a good spell, though. I suppose, for you, I can make some adjustments to the original plan.” The witch held up her hands and Stiles began to glow a faint pink – Scott grabbed Derek by the shoulders to keep him from pouncing and making things worse. “If Stiles’ true love fails to wake him with a kiss before the sun sets on Friday, my true curse shall take hold and he shall sleep for a hundred years.”
The witch threw her hands into the air and disappeared in a plume of dark smoke, her stereotypically cackling laughter still ringing through the dark gymnasium. Ethan and Aiden mumbled in unison, “What the hell?”
Derek silently gathered Stiles’ limp body into his arms. He braced the younger man against his chest and wrinkled his nose when he realized how the magic had tainted Stiles’ natural scent with cloying, floral sweetness. Like roses. And his stillness felt so wrong.
“His- In seven- What?” Scott scoffed. “We have to find his true love and they have to kiss him? What the hell is going on here?”
“Really, you don’t know? Typical.” Lydia rolled her eyes. Derek usually appreciated her sarcasm, but the dead weight of his belov- of his fellow alpha’s best friend in his arms was sobering.
“This isn’t the time for teasing,” he snapped. “You obviously know what’s going on here, Lydia, so spill.”
“This is the plot of Sleeping Beauty, guys. Sure, the crazy cosplaying witch made some adjustments to the script, but it’s the same basic story. If we don’t get Stiles’ true love to kiss him before the sun sets next Friday, exactly a week from now, he’s going to stay asleep for a hundred years.”
Derek’s stomach dropped into his shoes.
Day One:
“So you’re telling me that my son is under a sleeping curse until his true love gives him a peck on the lips?” the Sheriff asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyebrows at the rag-tag group of young adults in disbelief. “As far as I am aware, Miss Martin, it is not April first.”
“I wish this were an April Fool’s Day joke, Mr. Stilinski,” Lydia scowled back. It had been the mutual decision of both packs to make Lydia their spokesperson. She explained things to the Sheriff with her special brand of straightforward efficiency, making the situation clear despite the obvious fact that everyone was still a bit shaken. “But unfortunately it is not. Last night Stiles went to the school to look for clues relating to our latest monster issue. When he touched Isaac’s locker he triggered a proximity spell and now he’s… Well, now he’s napping indefinitely.”
“Indefinitely?”
For the first time since first knocking on the Sheriff’s front door, Lydia looked legitimately uncomfortable. “If we can’t find Stiles’ true love within a week, he won’t wake up for a hundred years.”
“Excuse me!?”
“I know it sounds bad, sir, but I’m sure the pack will be able to figure everything out long before the deadline.”
“Alright,” he sighed. “This supernatural shit gets weirder every week.”
“That it does, Sheriff Stilinski. Now, with your permission, we’d like to keep someone here at the house around the clock with Stiles. Just in case our mystery witch tries to make another appearance.”
“That’s fine with me, but I don’t understand why you haven’t woken him up already. Not to embarrass my son, but he’s been following you around like a lost puppy for nearly a decade.”
Lydia’s scowl grew darker and more pointed, “I tried, sir, believe me. We didn’t even pick him up off the gymnasium floor until I made an educated guess and planted one on him. Obviously my well-exfoliated lips weren’t the right ones to break the spell, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place.”
“I figured as much but I didn’t want to believe it,” Sheriff Stilinski sighed. “Alright, you’d better get him inside and set him up in bed. Otherwise the neighbors will start to think you’re returning his body for me to bury in the yard.”
“Thank you, Sheriff,” Derek nodded. His face was stony, his jaw twitching with tension. The Sheriff seemed to notice Derek for the first time, even though he’d been holding Stiles’ limp body in his arms the entire time Lydia had been talking. Sheriff Stilinski gave the alpha a considering look before shaking his head and pulling on his jacket. “I have to go to work for a double, but I trust you kids to take care of things while I’m out of the house. I probably shouldn’t trust this pack at the rate you all seem to get into trouble, but if my son thinks you’re worth the time and loyalty, I do too.”
“We appreciate your cooperation and support,” Lydia smiled, despite the bitter anxiety permeating her scent. “Stiles will receive only the best curse-breaking assistance available in California.”
“I’m sure.” The lawman gave Derek an unusually pointed look – not accusatory, just pointed – and gestured at the rag-doll Stiles held protectively against Derek’s chest. “Good luck.”
Day Two:
“This is beyond gross and way, way beyond stupid,” Erica asserted. Derek growled in displeasure at the comment but his sassy beta merely snorted back at him. “I really don’t understand why I even have to do this. I’m dating Boyd.”
“The curse only cares about who Stiles has feelings for, so just shut up and kiss him.”
“Whatever,” Erica sighed. She leaned over the side of Stiles’ mattress and pressed a brief, chaste kiss to the human’s unmoving lips before quickly stepping away. Derek held his breath while he waited for Stiles to show any sign of life, any twitch of movement. A few seconds passed in awkward silence and still…
Nothing.
Fuck.
Derek snarled, “This is stupid.”
Erica gave him a disbelieving look and shook her blonde hair back over her shoulder. “Yeah, I told you it wasn’t going to be me like forty times, Derek.”
“Thanks for trying, I guess.”
“Yeah, sure; and since my turn playing Prince Charming is over, I’m gonna hit the diner with my boyfriend. Let us know if you want anything to eat later, boss.”
“Alright. Thanks again.”
With another shake of her head, Erica sauntered from the room and out the front door of the Stilinski house. Derek turned his full attention back to Stiles, letting his eyes wander over the younger man’s sleeping face. The teen was normally rather pale, but the witch’s dark magic made his skin appear to glow faintly and attractively , as if constantly being kissed by the light of a full moon. His lips seemed even more plush and pink than usual, frozen on the edge of a teasing pout. It was one of Derek’s favorite expressions on Stiles, tempting and irritating by turns.
Stiles as a whole was tempting and irritating by turns, flickering between flirty and distant like a thin flame catching in the breeze. Derek didn’t know what to do with himself half the time, always scared that his own feelings would become too obvious and scare Stiles away. He was terrified of making the younger man uncomfortable, of losing Stiles’ friendship and intelligence and presence because of his own selfish desires.
But he knew that this curse could take Stiles away forever, and for the first time in a long time the alpha felt utterly helpless. It wasn’t like he would be able to wake Stiles up, anyway. All Derek could do was sit at his bedside and make sure the boy was comfortable and think of everyone that Stiles had ever smiled at who wasn’t him.
—
Both packs grew increasingly more agitated as the second full day of Stiles’ enchanted sleep wore on, snapping and snarling at each other because nobody could handle the growing tension. Isaac, finally fed up with all of the bickering between the wolves, organized a “Stiles-Sitting Schedule”. He printed the color-coded rotation out and taped it to Stiles’ bedroom door so that all of his friends could take turns playing bodyguard and not overcrowd the Stilinski residence (or each other).
Derek was the only constant.
The alpha thought it was unnerving how still and silent Stiles was as he laid beneath his generic blue comforter. He sat in the computer chair beside Stiles’ twin mattress, one of the boy’s cold hands clenched in both of his. His thumb rubbed slow circles into the back of Stiles’ icy skin. Derek didn’t want to think about what would happen to the bright, brilliant spot of joy in his life if they failed to lift the curse in time. Whispering close to Stiles’ ear, as if anyone was listening in, the werewolf asked, “Who is it, Stiles? Who’s the lucky bastard that’s managed to capture your heart?”
Stiles didn't answer.
Day Three:
Two people had tried to kiss Stiles awake so far, and both had failed.
It wasn’t Lydia and it certainly wasn’t Erica.
Ethan leaned in the doorway and muttered to his alpha, “Maybe his true love isn’t even a girl.”
Derek’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Well, you know…” Ethan shrugged. “Maybe he’s in love with a guy.”
Right. Of course. Why hadn’t Derek thought of that? Even the alpha himself was in love wi-
Derek had feelings for people who weren’t girls sometimes.
“We should ask Scott to try next time he comes over, and Isaac. They spend a lot of time together during Lacrosse practice, up close and personal. And Scott is his best friend so he’s an obvious choice.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “Alright. Do you want me, Jackson, and Aiden to try, too, while you’re listing off other werewolves who play sports?”
Derek frowned. “No, unless you think it’ll work.”
“Stiles is going to be so mad that he slept through all this,” the younger wolf laughed. “He’s been desperate for some major lip-locking action for years and now all of a sudden everyone wants to plant one on him. Not to mention he adores being the center of your undivided attention.”
The alpha bit the inside of his lip, the pain distracting him from the deep ache that resounded through his chest at Ethan’s statement. Watching Lydia and Erica kiss the object of his – well, it was too late to back out now – affection had been horrible. He’d wanted to bare his fangs and snap his jaws and howl until they ran screaming from his territory. He’d wanted to cover Stiles’ body with his own and snarl at anyone who came too close to the man he loved.
But Stiles was always arguing with him. Always pushing Derek’s buttons. Always running headfirst into trouble when Derek asked (begged, demanded, ordered, pleaded with) him not to. The younger man was always there, but that wasn’t because he felt anything for Derek in return. He was there because Scott was there, and Scott was his best friend. Maybe more, if Ethan’s theory proved correct.
By the end of the third straight day of waiting and watching, Derek was exhausted. He left Isaac in charge of Stiles and ran home instead of driving. While the shower water rained down on his head and loosened his sore muscles, he wondered if Stiles was dreaming. If he was, the werewolf hoped they were pleasant dreams.
Day Three: Stiles
Stiles was dreaming. He didn’t need to count his fingers to know if he was dreaming or not because the situation he found himself in was impossible under any other set of circumstances:
One of Derek Hale’s warm, strong arms was wrapped low around his waist. The alpha’s other hand was gently holding one of Stiles’ out to the side as they danced together. The two of them were waltzing in a slow circle at the center of a glaringly ostentatious – and otherwise completely empty – ballroom. The handsome werewolf stared down at Stiles with a look of open adoration on his usually frowning face as they turned and swayed to the soft sound of a string quartet. Derek was also… Stiles giggled and raised his eyebrows skeptically. “What the hell are you wearing, Sourwolf?”
“I’m pretty sure this is the costume that the Prince wears in Sleeping Beauty. It’s been a few years since I’ve watched that particular movie, though, so I could be wrong.”
“I think you’re right on the money, dude.”
“Don’t-”
“Don’t call you dude. Whatever. It’s my weird fever dream so I can call you dude if I want to. I love your outfit, by the way. Your sleeves are so… poofy.”
“It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world,” Derek admitted. “But I feel pretty dapper.”
“Holy shit, Sourwolf! You even have a little cape! That’s… That’s kind of cute, actually. Every time we spin around it looks really cool.”
Derek ignored Stiles outburst. He shocked the younger man back into silence instead by tugging him closer until their chests were touching. Stiles could comfortably rest his head on Derek’s shoulder if he leaned forward, so he allowed himself the comfort of additional contact. The werewolf murmured into Stiles’ surprisingly well-coiffed hair, “I’m sorry this happened to you. Again. It feels like you’re always being shoved in front of danger at every turn and ending up hurt or, in this extremely rare but frustrating case, cursed.”
Stiles bit his lip. “Sorry. I just want to be able to help…”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” the alpha chuckled. The sound vibrated through his chest and rumbled against Stiles’ ear. It was soothing, and Stiles relaxed a bit more, nuzzling against the warm skin of Derek’s stubbled throat. The werewolf continued whispering, his voice warm and low in Stiles’ ear: “You are clever and highly intelligent. You’re loyal, compassionate, and protective of those you love. Despite how you somehow manage to always end up in trouble, I’d also argue that you’re damn competent, Stiles. Without your hyperfocus and dedication to keeping the packs alive, we probably wouldn’t be.”
“So I’m not a burden to you? I’m not a weak point between the packs?” Derek shook his head and then Stiles felt something warm and soft press briefly against his forehead. He yanked back in shock when he realized that the alpha werewolf had kissed him. “D-Derek!? Do you like me!?”
“Well, since you might not remember any of this when you wake up, I think we’re well beyond the point of like, Stiles. I love you. If I weren’t so determined to sacrifice every chance at finding some sort of happiness, I would have kissed you on your eighteenth birthday in front of Scott and everyone.”
“Good,” Stiles burrowed even closer. They were barely even swaying anymore, too wrapped up in each other to care about the strangely fancy party that they were the only two people attending. “I love you, too. I worry about you so much when a new Big Bad appears, Der. Scott is my best friend but when we hit the battlefield I always look for you first. To make sure you’re alive and relatively okay.”
“You’re a wonderful nurse. Your healing talents have been coming along since you started studying how to use your Spark.”
“I want to be as helpful as possible. I want to be able to protect you the same way you protect me.”
Derek kissed him again, on the apple of his blushing cheek. “You would make a wonderful mate, Stiles. I’d be overjoyed and beyond lucky to have you.”
“You won’t tell me, though. Not even if you manage to break the curse in time.”
“No, I probably won’t.”
“Then hold me for as long as you can tonight,” Stiles’ grip on Derek tightened. The alpha nodded.
“Of course, love.”
Day Four:
“Well, it wasn’t me. Obviously.” Scott shot Derek a glare as he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “It wasn’t my boyfriend, either. Or any of our more friendly, supernaturally talented teammates. And before you even ask, it’s not Danny. It’s definitely, certainly not Danny.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I have fucking eyes, Derek,” the other alpha spat. “I can’t believe you haven’t realized who it is, yet.”
“Well pardon me for no longer attending high school. I can’t help that I’m not up to date with the hot romantic gossip.”
Scott smelled and looked more frustrated and conflicted than Derek had ever seen him before; and Scott had a tendency to get easily frustrated. After a pregnant pause, the younger alpha wiped his hand over his face and exhaled slowly. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. It has to be mutual, right?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve been working on the assumption that the curse relies on Stiles’ feelings rather than the kisser’s feelings. Do you think it needs to be mutual?”
“Maybe. Or maybe we just need to kill the witch to break the spell. That method has worked before with magic users.”
“It might work again,” the older alpha shrugged. “Do you guys think you can scout the area and look for her hideout?”
“Yeah, I’ll see who else can join me tonight.”
“Good. Shit, I still wish we knew the parameters of the curse.”
Scott opened his mouth and then snapped it closed with a pained grunt. The room filled with the scent of sorrow.
“What is it, Scott? What’s wrong?”
“I almost suggested that we should call Stiles to get help with our research.”
Derek barely held back the urge to cry when he said, “Now it’s all up to us to figure out what’s going on and save the day.”
Scott laughed humorlessly and turned towards the door.
“Then Stiles is fucked.”
—
Derek got a text just after midnight informing him that Scott, Isaac, and the rest of their combined packs had tracked the witch to her “weirdly stereotypical” hut in the woods. Jackson had paralyzed her, Lydia had interrogated her, and when she refused to help them or reveal the identity of Stiles’ true love, Erica snapped her neck.
Derek passed the details along to Stiles, who answered him by remaining still and silent in his magically suspended state of unconsciousness. The alpha held back the urge to whine. He wanted Stiles back, in all of his sassy, snarky glory. He wanted to hear a thousand Wizard of Oz jokes now that their enemy had been defeated. He wanted to listen to Stiles hum “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” while making the pack a big spaghetti dinner. He wanted the witch’s death to wake Stiles up and he was furious that it hadn’t worked out that way.
But at least one of their problems was dealt with.
Day Five:
Derek heard Lydia’s heels and glanced up from the article he was reading about Norwegian love curses. The banshee entered without knocking and announced: “I have news.”
“Good news or bad news?”
“It really depends on your point of view. According to my reading, the kiss does need to be based on mutual affection in order for the curse to break, otherwise my kiss could have totally woken him up. I feel plenty of platonic love for Stiles, but that just isn’t going to cut it this time.”
“Fuck.” Derek closed the article on his phone and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids. “Who is it?”
“You really don’t know, huh?”
“Scott said nearly the same thing earlier and I gotta say, I’m getting tired of your melodramatic high school bullshit.”
“I’m not surprised that Scott said something similar, but it’s not melodrama, Derek. We happen to spend a lot of time around the pack human and his yearning isn’t exactly subtle.”
“Well if you know who can break this fucking curse then why haven’t you gotten them in here!?”
“Because Stiles asked us not to. If they don’t figure it out by tomorrow, I’ll say something. I promise.”
“Thank you, Lydia. I can’t- We can’t lose him.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let us.”
Day Six:
Surprisingly enough, it was Isaac that approached his alpha on the sixth day of the curse and asked: “Have you tried kissing him yet, Derek?”
Derek whirled around to glare at the beta. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“For the same reason that I did that, even though I have never once thought of Stiles romantically for a solitary second of my life. Not once. Ever.”
Derek’s eyebrows knit together in their signature “caterpillar kiss” and Isaac bit his lip to keep from smiling. Stiles had been more than accurate with his description of the alpha’s expressions, and the human’s level of detail only reaffirmed Isaac’s suspicions that Derek’s kiss would break the spell.
“It’s not me.”
“Still, it wouldn’t be fair for you not to try. I mean even Scott tried. Hell, you made Erica try!”
“They’ve been best friends for years, it seemed natural for Scott to try. And Erica used to flirt with him before she and Boyd got together; they’re Batman and Catwoman.”
“Whatever, Derek. I just hope your decision doesn’t have tragic consequences for Stiles.”
Without waiting for Derek to respond, Isaac turned and sauntered down the stairs. The alpha was left alone with his whirling thoughts. He was torn about what to do next–
If he did kiss Stiles and Stiles kept sleeping, it would only confirm his worst fears: that he would never be good enough for someone as sweet and full of light as his goofy little Spark. On the other hand, if he kissed Stiles and the younger man woke up, it meant that they could finally be together.
Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Derek wished that Stiles was there to help him figure things out. He hadn’t realized how deeply ingrained the human had become in his day-to-day life until Stiles was suddenly out of reach. When Derek needed advice, he talked to Stiles. When he needed information, he talked to Stiles. Whenever a problem appeared that Derek didn’t know how to vanquish alone, Stiles was right there.
But now he wasn’t, and the alpha didn’t know what to do.
The Final Day:
The sun was beginning to set when Lydia stormed into Stiles’ room and slammed the door shut behind her. Derek heard Scott yelling obscenities from the bottom of the stairs and raised a curious eyebrow when she smirked. “I put mountain ash on the bottom step so he couldn’t interrupt me.”
“Interrupt?”
“Listen, Derek, you need to kiss Stiles. Nobody else can wake him up and we’re down to the wire, here. He loves you. He loves you so fucking much that he commissioned Deaton to make him a scent suppressant because he thought his feelings would make you uncomfortable. He didn’t want to lose any time with you but he didn’t want to hurt you, either. Now he’s in danger of being lost forever and I don’t have the time or shame to hide this any longer; he can scream at me all he likes when he wakes the hell up, but that's the truth. You are the only person who can break this curse.”
The alpha blinked up at the banshee in utter shock. “Wh- What the hell, Lydia?”
“I know it’s a lot to dump on you all at once, but we only have a few precious minutes left before Stiles is stuck in a century-long nap. Now I’m going to leave the room again and you’re going to kiss that boy and bring him back to us, do you understand?”
Derek swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yes. Thank you. I-”
“Kissing now, self-sacrificing speech later.”
The banshee gave a single sharp nod and practically skipped back down the stairs to Scott and the others. Derek stood on uncharacteristically shaky legs and moved to the side of Stiles’ mattress. He brushed a bit of the teen’s unruly brown hair away from his forehead and leaned forward. He glanced out the window and saw the sunlight beginning to fade– it really was now or never.
The terrified alpha closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Stiles’, pouring every last bit of love he felt for the hyperactive human into this one simple gesture. Every single one of his fears hinged on whether or not Stiles really loved him back, really felt as intensely for Derek as the werewolf felt for him. After a second that felt like a millennia, Derek leaned slowly back into his sitting position on the edge of the bed.
The whole world froze when the curtains darkened, the sun setting below the horizon, and Stiles remained unmoving against the sheets. Realization sank into Derek with the weight of the universe behind it, shoving him down to his knees on the hardwood floor. “No, Stiles. Please, no. S-Stiles, please don’t go… ”
When the human remained silent, his skin still magically moon-kissed and pale in the darkness of his bedroom, Derek tilted his head back and howled.
All of the alpha’s pain and love and desperation made themselves known in a singular, animalistic cry of anguish. What was the point of living if Stiles’ light was gone from the world for an entire century? Was there a way the alpha could freeze himself, stop time long enough to stay with the pain-in-the-ass human who’d utterly and completely stolen his heart? Stiles had seen past the anger and the threats and been his friend, had shown him compassion in his sassy bickering and open personality. He’d let Derek in, helped the alpha create a family worth fighting for, and now he was gone.
Derek didn’t want to open his eyes again.
The only thing that pulled him back from the edge of the abyss, the only thing that kept him going completely feral, was the soft voice that asked, “Is that you, Sourwolf? Pretty damn dramatic way to wake someone up, you know. Very Anakin Skywalker.”
Derek’s breath caught. He blinked his eyes open and felt them begin to water. He lifted his face and grinned at the sight of Stiles staring back at him. “You’re awake! You’re really awake!”
“I noticed. And you seem pretty happy about that fact for once. How long was I out?”
“A week.”
“Wow. A whole week… My grades are going to be absolutely fucked, huh?”
Derek laughed breathlessly and fell into the chair still pulled up tight against Stiles’ bed. “Really? True love’s kiss breaks your sleeping curse right before the time limit runs out and you snooze for a century and you’re worried about your grades?”
“Wh- Wha- Excuse me?! True love’s what? What was I going to spend a century doing? I’m not sure if you remember, Derek, but I was kind of pretty much unconscious for everything that happened after my second possession in two years!”
The werewolf sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “What happened at the high school, Stiles?”
“I went in to take a picture of that riddle on Lydia’s locker because I needed to compare the rhyme scheme to my notes. Before I even got to the exit door this weird ball of light showed up in front of the office window and caught my attention. I thought it was a wisp, that it might take me to Lydia’s stalker or reveal some kind of hidden clue, but it was a trap…”
“We know,” Derek reached out tentatively, taking Stiles’ hand the way he had when the boy was sleeping. “The witch told us that the trap had been meant for Isaac, to mess with Scott… but that you were just as useful anyhow.”
“Why would she write something on Lydia’s locker if she was trying to capture Isaac?”
“Wrong locker, honestly. They’re right next to each other in the alphabet.”
“Huh.”
“And Lydia saw the weird green light when she was chatting with Isaac about a school project, so it was probably meant for him the first time, too.”
“Should I be flattered that an evil witch found me valuable to her plan or should I be offended? Well I suppose that’s not really the point right now,” Stiles shook his head and looked at where his fingers were intertwined with Derek’s. “Anyway, I completely lost control of my body once I got close enough to the not-wisp for the spell to take. That stupid thing forced me to walk all the way to the gym in a trance, where a very creepy spinning wheel was going full Halloweentown in the middle of the basketball court. I lifted my hand without wanting to and touched the spindle. Then… I guess that’s when I fell asleep, huh?”
“Yeah. Scott and I were right around the corner when it happened. The magical blowback knocked us clear down a hallway.”
Stiles winced. “Sorry.”
“You’re the only person in the world who would apologize for getting cursed by a witch determined to make Scott go mad with grief over Isaac’s hundred-year sleep.”
“Pfft. That witch was an idiot if her big evil plan was to cast an easily removed love curse on two people who already love each other. Scott would have just kissed Isaac on the lips and poof! Wide awake boyfriend and happily ever after. Et cetera.”
“She intended to imprison Scott in a werewolf-proof facility two counties over until the time was up and the major curse kicked in. Really rub his nose in his failure as an alpha and a partner. When you got cursed… She laughed. She didn’t think we’d even be able to find your true love in time to save you.”
“So… who was it? Who’s my Prince Charming- Wait, no. Who’s my Shrek?”
Derek ignored the defensive urge to make a talking donkey comment, the reality of their situation finally dawning on him now that his relief had faded slightly. “You don’t remember who kissed you?”
“I was asleep,” Stiles shrugged. “I remember something warm touching my lips and then the next thing I knew your howl was almost deafening me. I thought you’d been shot with a Wolfsbane bullet again and that I’d need to sit up and stab somebody.”
The younger man paused and frowned, staring at the hand that wasn’t holding Derek’s.
“You sounded scared. And hurt. Why did you howl like that, Sourwolf?”
The nickname fell from Stiles’ busy mouth with an air of near reverence. It always had, but this time Derek paid attention. He hung his head and took a deep breath.
“I- The howl was- Stiles, I thought you were gone. That I hadn’t made it in time and that by failing to love you enough I had-” Derek slammed both hands over his mouth to stop the uncharacteristic flow of words. Stiles' eyes widened.
“You!? It was you? Derek Hale is the man who saved me from eternal slumber in a strange Disney-esque turn of events?!”
“I’m sorry, Stiles, if you don’t-”
“Shut up. Just shut up, Derek. You woke me up from a terrifying sleeping curse with true love’s kiss and now you think I don’t want you?! Just shut up. Actually, no, kiss me again. While I’m awake. As your damsel in distress, I demand lots of awake kissing.”
“Are you sure?”
Stiles gave him the most deadpan look he’d ever seen and Derek laughed. The sound bubbled up from deep within his gut and went crashing through the air between them, filling the space with joy after nearly a week of nothing but despair. Without waiting for another summons, Derek tackled Stiles back against the pillows and kissed him breathless. One of his hands cupped the side of Stiles’ head to hold him steady while the other wrapped around his hip. The alpha held onto his beloved as if the witch might return to curse him again.
“I love you,” he breathed into Stiles’ perfect mouth.
“I love you, too.”
From downstairs they could both hear Lydia saying, "And they both lived happily ever after."
"Do you think we will?" Derek asked, honestly curious.
"Totally."
"How do you know?"
The human began to sing quietly, for only Derek to hear:
"Because I know you, I know what you'll do; you'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream."