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Stiles is seventeen when Derek starts to see orange when he's alone.
It's weird and unexpected, but he's not too worried at first; that's just the way their lives are. Maybe that should bother him, that he's not worried about Stiles' safety when something weird happens, but he knows, at this point, that Stiles is damn good with that bat and even better at calling for backup when he needs it. There's still a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, the feeling that maybe something isn't right, but it's been quiet recently. So Derek sees orange and doesn't let his paranoia get the better of him.
There was a time when Derek would have been terrified for Stiles' safety, when he would have climbed through the window and lurked in the boy's room to keep him safe. There was a time when he would have lashed out at anything and everything that surprised him, thinking that it's an unseen threat to Stiles. Or the pack, he adds as an afterthought, but who is he kidding? Mostly Stiles. The pack is more than capable of protecting each other. Not that Stiles isn't capable of protecting himself (and everyone else, as he's proven on several occasions).
Anyway, the point is that Derek isn't that man anymore. Stiles took the burns on his soul and soothed them, turned them into nothing more than scars that were fading even still. He's changed him for the better, made him into a more trusting, more personable wolf. Still, the nagging feeling doesn't go away so Derek picks up his phone, opens his speed dial, and calls Stiles.
It's about to go to voicemail when Stiles finally picks up, tiredly amused. "Hey, lover. What's going on?"
It's only when he hears the fatigue in the boy's voice that he notices the time: 2:13 AM. Oops. "I just had a weird feeling. You alright?"
Stiles snorts quietly. "Other than being woken up at fuck-all in the morning, yeah. I'm fine, no supernatural nasties in sight, dude."
"Don't call me dude." The response is automatic banter, but it brings a smile to Derek's face because Stiles is fine. He's okay. "Sorry for waking you up, I'll talk to you in the morning, okay?"
"Nah, I won't be able to go back to sleep anyway. Wanna come over and we can watch terrible movies on Netflix until Dad wakes up for work?"
Derek grins to himself; of course Stiles would refuse to go back to sleep. "Popcorn's on me."
~oOo~
Two months. That's how long it's been since Stiles and Derek became an item. Stiles was released from Beacon Hills General tonight, Melissa's stern look telling him to be more careful, though the woman herself said nothing. It's been two months of complete and total happiness (or as close as one could get in Beacon Hills) with Derek and the pack, and Stiles wouldn't change a thing.
Okay.
That's not... totally true.
He's been slightly miserable. It's not Derek, obviously. Derek is great, they're doing great, everything's just... great. It's that Derek doesn't do his weird creeper thing anymore. That sentence sounds weirder than it actually is, though, Stiles thinks.
When Derek was creeping on him, he seemed to know when something was wrong. He'd wake the boy up from whatever nightmare was plaguing him and demand answers, maybe do something borderline violent to extract an answer. Nowadays, though... Stiles is suffering alone.
And he's dealing with it, really. He knows how to wake himself up from a nightmare, how to talk himself down from a panic attack, how to snap himself out of his thoughts. It's just that for a while, he had Derek to do that for him. Derek would wake him from a nightmare without even knowing it. Derek would tell him to get your damn head in the game, Stiles, or you'll get hurt. Derek stopped him from even feeling a panic attack coming on. Now it's almost as if Derek has forgotten that those things still happen.
It's like... Stiles found his soulmate, but he's never been more alone.
But today, he had this strange feeling in the hospital. It was like there was someone else in the room with him, even though Derek had gone home and Dad was checking him out. The next thing he knew, Dad was in the room and they were getting ready to leave.
So he's not sleeping when Derek calls. He's staring at his ceiling, thinking that maybe he should get one of those Batman FatHead posters for it because that would be awesome but god, that's a terrible idea because waking up at 2 AM to see the world's most dangerous billionaire coming at him, batarangs blazing, does not sound like fun to paranoid, slightly jaded Stiles. He's tossing and turning, debating whether or not he should just say fuck it and take an Aderall and maybe watch some crappy reality tv.
The only reason he doesn't pick up his phone immediately when Derek calls is because he knows what kind of red alert that would send him. Stiles isn't sleeping. Stiles isn't sleeping. Red alert. Stiles isn't sleeping. Derek might not be an alpha anymore, but he's still got a protective streak a mile long.
Stiles is struck by the irony and only contains his snort of laughter because his window opens and in comes Derek, like a knight in shining leather. They watch Ghostbusters and Labyrinth and they're halfway through the Notebook before Dad's up and moving around. Derek almost bolts but Stiles puts a hand on his arm to keep him where he is. The Sheriff is fine with their relationship, has been since Stiles first told him they were soulmates, but old habits die especially hard with Derek. He stiffens in Stiles' grasp before realizing that there's no real reason to run.
John opens the door without knocking. He nods at Derek. "Keep it pg-13, you two. I'll see you tonight, I assume?"
Stiles nods. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Wouldn't want to worry you again or anything."
"Alright then."
"Be careful, love you Dad!" Stiles calls after him, as he always does. As always, there's no response except the closing of the front door. Stiles sighs inaudibly and leans into his boyfriend, pressing Play.
If Derek notices his sadness, he stays silent.
~oOo~
Derek has never liked the scent of Stiles' room. It absolutely reeks of panic and loneliness and depression. He asked Scott about it once, but the boy just brushed it off.
"He spent two years hating the world almost all day, every day in that room after his mom died, and it's exactly the same. No new furniture or carpeting or anything. My theory is that the scent just settled in the stuff."
Like an imprint of profound pain, Derek thinks, kissing Stiles' hair lightly.
He fell asleep about ten minutes before the movie ended-- unsurprising, considering how little sleep he got last night. Derek carefully extracts himself from under the boy, mindful of his injuries. It's hard, seeing the casts and bandages he comes home with so often; the physical evidence proving Derek's ineptitude. Proving that he can't protect the boy he loves. Again, not that Stiles needs protecting from anyone but himself. He just has this strange instinct that makes him run toward danger, rather than away from it. It's as endearing to Derek as it is loathsome because as amazing (and, if Derek is being honest, attractive) as it is, it never fails to get him hurt. Ever. And for some ungodly reason, his lack of self preservation is almost always what saves everyone's ass so he never listens when he's told not to do something.
It's so damn frustrating.
But right now, Stiles seems fine. He's a little worn out, a little bit hurt, but in no immediate danger. Derek is still seeing orange as well as the usual brown, but he's always been a bit of a freak. It's probably no big deal, and he's going to treat it as such until something proves it otherwise because he's so done with excitement for the moment. He doesn't want to see things that aren't there and stress everyone out unduly.
Of course, something proves it otherwise.
~oOo~
Derek doesn't even know Stiles is in the hospital until Scott goes and gets him. Scott's lucky he's the alpha; Derek is very, very close to ripping his fucking throat out. Ethan and Aiden seem almost amused at this until he turns on them. Derek knows he's scary. He also knows that when it comes to Stiles' safety, he's the thing that haunts people's nightmares. He's in full wolfy form, (Stiles' words, not his) eyes flashing uncontrollably. He really wants to kill. He doesn't calm down until Scott comes out with Stiles. The boy doesn't even look at him, just walks to his crappy Jeep and drives away. Apparently, he drove himself, which takes the edge off of Derek's worries; if it was a big problem, Stiles would have called an ambulance. He's not an idiot. But it hurts that he won't acknowledge him. It hurts that he wasn't kept in the know.
Then Scott, stupidly, makes the same goddamn mistake again.
When he tells Derek Stiles is missing and they meet on the roof, Derek hits him. Repeatedly. With feeling. Scott is flashing his Alpha Eyes (as Stiles calls them), but he's not giving a command and Derek isn't a part of his pack anyway. It takes Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Aiden to pull him off the boy, demanding to know what the fuck has gotten into him.
He snarls at them, eyes flashing. "Let me clear this up for you. If we were in different places, if Isaac was missing and scared and cold and you weren't the first fucking person I called when I found out, would you have reacted any fucking differently? Or you, Erica, if it was Boyd?" The wolves are silent. "That's what I thought. If anything like this happens again, you. Fucking. Call. Me. Understand?"
It's times like this when Derek is reminded that the soul bond is even stronger than the power of an alpha.
It's times like this when Derek is reminded that he doesn't give a single shit because when he has to test that, it means Stiles is in danger.
When they find Stiles, he goes back to the hospital and they don't let Derek see him. It takes the entire pack plus the twins to get him out the door this time. Then the Sheriff comes out with some explanation that all blurs together until Derek hears the words: frontotemporal dementia... yes, Scott, like Claudia. And it's not certain, none of it is certain, but there's still a possibility and in Derek's life, if there's the slightest fucking chance that the universe will screw him over, then it will so maybe it's not certain, but to Derek...
It's a death sentence.
Derek finally tells Scott about the orange. It's a desperate card to play, he knows, a Hail Mary to end all Hail Marys, a he's not sick, I swear he's not sick, you were right, he's possessed, we can fix this, we can fix this, I can fix this.
Scott punches him for being an idiot. He punches him again for not telling anyone. Derek doesn't particularly care; there's no pain Scott could hope to inflict on him that he's not already going through because if he's wrong, if he's wrong, then Stiles could be dying from something Derek can't fix. Stiles has the soul of a man who's going to go down swinging and cursing. It would be a cruel joke to have him offed by something like this, something hereditary.
The worst part is that Derek didn't even know how his mother died. He realizes how shockingly little he actually knows about Stiles, considering the bond they share. He realizes that for as much as the boy talks, he never really says anything he's thinking. He knows Stiles' birthday, knows his age and that he has ADD... or is it ADHD? God, Derek is a terrible person.
Once this is all over, he promises himself, once this is all over, he's gonna learn everything there is to know about the hyperactive boy that's stolen his heart.
~oOo~
Stiles never thought he'd wish for a panic attack, but he does. There's this thing in his head, and it's taken over his body and it's got the most twisted sense of humor (which, coming from him, is saying a lot) and he's more terrified than he's ever been before because this thing is going to use his body to kill the people he cares about the most.
Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?
What is it?