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1
"Mind and senses purified,
Na-na-na-na-na, na-na, na-na-na, na-na-na"
Lydia is screaming in his ears while jumping up and down, like everyone around them. Stiles is not going to be left out, wild arm gestures his way to go. He tries getting closer to Lydia but she's turned from him, thrown in a duet with Kira that does not require him at all. He watches, amused, the way they yell the lyrics while dancing their asses off.
Glancing around the loft in search for something to drink, he catches Derek's eyes. Derek's head is bobbing with the music, his shoulders even getting into it. His lips stretch when Stiles looks at him and he raises his glass.
A solid minute later (the time to make his way through the crowd and encourage Liam to jump on the table he has decided to dance on), Stiles is by his side. Derek raises an eyebrow. "I don't think I heard you talk him out of this idea," he says with a finger pointed at Liam. Stiles grins. "Looks like quite the sturdy table, this one."
Not a second later, they hear a loud crack and turn their head in time to witness Liam rolling off said table. Stiles winces. "It wasn't valuable was it?" Derek huffs but it sounds like a laugh so Stiles shrugs. "Do you want to get some fresh air?"
Stiles relishes the warm spring wind on his sweat-covered face and neck. He sighs, glancing sideways at Derek who is still looking relaxed and maybe a little out of it.
"Are you drunk?"
"I can't get drunk."
"Whatever, you know what I mean, are you wolfsbaned?"
"Are we making up words?"
"All words are made up, dude. And the supernatural requires super-words."
Derek snorts, his eyes crinkling in a way Stiles likes. Like, a lot. Like, he could get used to it.
"Anyway, I like you like that."
Derek looks like he doesn't know what to do or say and Stiles resists the urge to bite his lip. He isn't even that drunk. Lydia and Malia have been making punch for a small army, one labeled non-alcoholic but laced with wolfsbane, and an alcoholic one. Everyone, notably Scott, seems to enjoy it. And Stiles is pretty sure he has seen Derek with at least a glass. Which could explain the slight smile and relaxed body that are before him.
Body he is doing his best not to look at, coming off as a creep not being a good look for a 21st birthday party. Even though it is Derek in front of him, king of all creeps.
"Hey, thanks for the loft. That was nice of you. I know you're not a big fan of- big crowds, music, etc." He trails off with a vague gesture to the other side of the windows, where the party is in full swing. He really is thankful. Managing to throw such a big party, with literally everyone they know in Beacon Hills, even friends from college showing up, Isaac, Jackson, and Ethan coming back from fucking Europe, has come as a big victory. They count those, lately. Partying isn't a big part of either of their college life, so when Lydia said "We are throwing a party, even if it draws every Californian hunter here", and Scott said "hell yeah"... well, Stiles had to be won over. He isn't going to lie, he can't think of a stupider idea. He has watched Lydia like a hawk but she hasn't shown any signs of premonition in the weeks coming up to the party. And there they are. Pretty much every supernatural of the state, in the same place. A dream for Monroe. But Chris has volunteered to mislead her on the other side of the country, which apparently worked. Stiles is just beginning to relax.
"I like music," is not the answer he was expecting, and he watches Derek with round eyes. "That's... I didn't know that about you, can you believe it"
"No, Stiles, I have a hard time believing that never came up in our conversations." Derek rolls his eyes at him. Stiles grins. "I thought I saw you moving your head on Freed from desire, maybe even swaying a little hmm?"
"Everyone likes that song" Derek answers in a very dignified tone that tries too hard not to sound like he's justifying himself.
Stiles feels giddy, whether it's the alcohol, the party, or Derek's geniality, the sight of him enjoying himself at a party thrown by Scott and Stiles - this time he can't resist and starts giggling.
Derek looks at him for a while, Stiles hiccuping among his giggles. When he stops, he hears "You're welcome, you know. For the party. 21, it's an important one."
"Yeah it is! I can legally drink now, woof what a relief! And do other things!"
His mouth will not shut up, will it? But Derek doesn't seem to pick up on the innuendo that isn't even one. Not that Stiles has meant to say "You and I can legally have sex now" because that would have been weird as fuck, and Derek would have certainly been appalled. Certainly.
Fortunately, he manages to stop his mouth from asking "What did you do when you turned 21?" That would turn the conversation in a much darker direction.
Instead, he keeps talking. "Yep, 21, legally an adult, which means you officially can't push me around anymore. Or that I can get arrested and have actual legal problems, oh my god what's gonna happen to me, Derek?" A laugh interrupts him, brief but real. Derek raises his glass. "Congrats on reaching such old age."
"Thanks, 'twas a long shot." Derek nods, they clink glasses and drink. After a few seconds of silence, when Stiles gets ready to go back inside, Derek asks, "Are you content? With being 21?"
Stiles hears the hesitation, but Derek looks earnestly curious. And Stiles likes questions.
"I guess? I survived a Kanima, nah scratch that, two Kanimas, maybe 3? Who's counting! Several psychopathic hunters, a demon possessing me, other demons trying to kill me, Berserkers, alphas, and dying like twice already ... so many things dude! And you know, life is good: kicking asses in college, got another internship at the FBI, everyone in the pack is alright... got a hot and genius girlfriend. Life's good", he repeats.
Derek smiles, a private smile that makes Stiles want to kiss him so bad he can't help himself - "I guess there's just one thing I haven't done I kinda thought I would have by now."
"Oh? And what's that?" Derek sounds intrigued as he often is when Stiles talks.
"Getting over how attractive you are?"
He hasn't meant to make it sound like a question, nor to have such a small voice. He has meant it cocky and daring and ends up sounding like the teenager he wishes he wasn't anymore.
Derek's eyes grow big, his eyebrows almost disappearing in his hair. He abruptly stands up from where he was nonchalantly leaning against the wall, opens his mouth and closes it again, evidently at a loss for what to say. Stiles closes his eyes, wishing for once he had shut up.
"Sorry?" he tries.
Derek cocks his head to the side and says, "Don't be" and winks. Stiles chuckles in relief. "Honestly it's hard to look at you sometimes," he says while slightly tapping Derek's chest, who looks at his hand and catches it in mid-air when Stiles takes it back. Before Stiles can bask in the glory of the electricity running down his skin from where Derek's fingers are curled around his wrist, the other has pulled him and the sudden proximity of Derek's whole body is too much for Stiles. He can feel his heart galloping, knows Derek can hear it, and sure enough when he dares look Derek in the face, he's smirking.
"Then close your eyes" Stiles can feel his breath on his face when Derek talks, voice low and bossy.
Stiles obeys.
Swallows.
Holds his breath.
He feels Derek getting closer, bites back a whine when he grazes his lips, when the breath follows the line of his jaw to his ear then - so close he can feel Derek's mouth on his skin. "21 is still too young for me."
Stiles opens his eyes.
"Oh my god! I can't believe you!" He gets his face away from Derek, still loosely holding his wrist and fucking- laughing. "That's mean dude!" There's no heat in his voice when he says it, though. Derek mocking him like that- he should be angry but maybe, just maybe, he kinda deserved it. He hits Derek in the chest again. "You really got me there, for fuck's sake" and Derek doubling down just makes him laugh with him.
They stay like this for a while, laughing, Derek's fingers on his skin.
"Sorry," the older finally says, despite the shit-eating grin.
Stiles huffs. "Yeah sure you are. I'll get back at you, you know. My vengeance shall be swift and terrible!"
"Will be waiting for it." Derek waggles his eyebrow and finally lets go of Stiles.
Before he can answer (or wonder about what that means exactly), Lydia's voice rings out behind him, making him jump. "Here you are! The both of you! Dancing, now!" There's no mistaking the command in her tone and Derek just smiles and follows her without missing a beat. So does Stiles, trying to swallow his guilt and bury the thought that for a moment there, on this terrace under the stars and the fucking moon, with Derek, he forgot about Lydia.
2
"We dug up your sister, I don't remember ever apologizing about that"
Derek has heard and recognized the Jeep coming long before he smelled Stiles in the building. He's had the time to worry about why Stiles is here at such a time, why he hasn't called (Derek has checked his phone). He knew Stiles was in town, the sheriff told him a few days ago - even if he had tried to conceal it, Derek could scent the excitement, the joy and relief to have his son back for an entire week. Derek said to give Stiles his best and the sheriff looked at him in disbelief. "I'm sure he plans on coming to say hi."
Derek has pushed away the question, are he and Stiles friends enough that they have to see each other when Stiles comes to Beacon Hills? So much that it's a given for the sheriff?
They have talked a lot through texts since Stiles left for the other side of the country. But Derek assumed, well, that's Stiles, hyperactive obsessive Stiles, sometimes he just launches in rants over a case or a colleague or a creature, Derek answers the questions, tries to help because he too likes a good riddle, and doesn't think more of it. He certainly doesn't think he and Stiles are buddies who would catch up when Stiles comes back for a vacation. Stiles hasn't reached out to plan anything like that, anyway. Neither has Scott. Derek has briefly toyed with the idea of offering something but hasn't been able to imagine him and Stiles just talking over a beer in a bar. It just feels... out of place for them. Frantic texts about worrying cases that have somehow drifted to exasperating bosses or funny ones about colleagues, Derek can deal with. But what would Stiles and he talk about if they just hung out? Nothing is happening in Beacon Hills at the moment that requires a conversation.
So, when Derek hears the very characteristic noise of the Jeep and sees a determined Stiles coming out, checking Derek's windows for lights and entering the building, he has no idea what to expect.
"You drove all the way here in the middle of the night to tell me this?"
"I started thinking about it and I couldn't stop! I just- couldn't sleep."
There is the usual scent of anxiety that comes in waves from Stiles, that Derek doesn't even need - he can read it in Stiles' hands, in Stiles' whole demeanor. There is the earnest, raw look on his face and the grief that taints his scent. There are his eyes, wide and staring at Derek. Derek who doesn't know what to do with this. He crosses his arms, looking at Stiles, waiting for him to talk (he always does, in the end).
"I just... you were the one who buried her, Laura. And you did it on your own, all by yourself and I was thinking- how lonely you must have felt. And then these two dumbass kids endangering everyone by not listening to you -although to be fair you could have been more pleasant about the whole thing but, ahem- the two of us coming and digging her, Laura, digging her up." He takes a breath. "It must have been awful for you" he lets his voice trail at the end, hand on the back of his neck, not meeting Derek's eyes.
But Derek can't stand to look at Stiles. Derek just wants to shift into the wolf. He would also really fucking like a hug.
Something must show on his face because Stiles' voice is small and anxious when he speaks.
"I'm really sorry."
Derek wants to say "don't be, you were doing what you thought was right" or "I should have explained immediately, and better. I should have been a better brother and a better mentor" but his throat is so dry and narrow he can barely breathe.
The scent of anxiety that surrounds Stiles (how long has it been since it stopped being fear around Derek, he suddenly wishes he could pinpoint it) gets even louder, leaving Derek a bitter taste. He can smell so much worry - and suddenly realizes it's for him.
He's at a loss for what to do. The urge is strong to close the door in Stiles' face, to just crawl up in his bed or shift and go run in the forest until he's so exhausted he passes out.
But Stiles is here, with his weird-ass apology and he's ready to be rejected and Derek - Derek would like to be able to respond. He would like to say something that pertains to Stiles' apology, except it's too much. His fists are clenched in an effort to calm the beating of his heart, not that Stiles would know.
In the end, Derek gestures to the TV. "I was watching Our Planet, if you're not gonna sleep." Stiles nervously chuckles then shrugs and, leaving his coat and shoes in Derek's entry, throws himself on the couch.
"You know, there's a mistake in an episode - I swear it's true! Nobody ever believes it..." Stiles talks while Derek settles on the couch, sets a blanket over the both of them that Stiles immediately starts fidgeting with.
It's not a hug, but it's not a run in the forest either - it's Stiles' heat close to him, the sound of his voice when he comments on the TV, the sound of his laugh when he mocks Derek, the beating of his heart always a bit rushed, the many things in his smell that Derek gives up on deciphering for tonight.
At some point, the documentary turns to wolves and a wide grin appears on Stiles' face, who keeps looking pointedly at Derek, who just groans. Among his many remarks, Stiles suddenly blurts out, "It looks so soft honestly, I'm kind of bummed I've never touched your fur."
Derek doesn't even think about it before he's out of the room, undressing and coming back into the living room a wolf. Stiles is watching him with eyes round like saucers. Derek tries to be the least menacing he can be, but Stiles doesn't smell afraid, at all. When Derek is close to him, he hesitates - and it's Derek who moves forward so that his body is against Stiles' legs. Stiles who lets out a strangled noise before, soon enough, burying his hands in Derek's fur. The wolf that Derek is lets himself be petted for a while, enjoying Stiles' hands, his look of bewildered wonder and his intoxicating smell of contentment.
After a few minutes though, he picks up on a whiff of anxiety. The wolf gently pulls himself out of Stiles' embrace. When Derek comes back in the room, now much more able to feel embarrassed, Stiles is smiling. There's no awkwardness surrounding him, just the remains of joy. "Thanks," he says, and Dereks only nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat. When he settles on the couch again, Stiles gently bumps his shoulder. They stay quiet for a while.
"How's life in Quantico?" Derek asks, at some point well past 3 am.
Stiles pulls a face. "There are many dumb people training to be FBI agents."
"Go figure."
Stiles snorts.
"People are kind of slow", he adds. "I guess most people, even the ones training to join the FBI, didn't spend most of their teens solving murders. Also, they're all..." he gestures wildly "very good and bad, you know, saving the good people, arresting the bad people, they feel very strongly about that."
Derek nods. He can imagine, the youth of them all, the pure innocence and Manichaeism of future officers of the law, and how Stiles doesn't fit in. Stiles who, at 16, was considering killing a fellow student, Stiles who died to save his father when he wasn't even 17, and has had to live with a darkness around his heart ever since. Stiles who killed someone when he was 18.
Stiles today is as young as Derek was when they met, young, stupid and so lost - except Stiles is neither stupid nor anywhere as lost.
Stiles' scent has turned a bit sharp while talking about Quantico, but it's mostly peaceful now, much more than when he arrived. Neither of them has breached the subject that brought him again. Derek wonders if Stiles is relieved. If he regrets Derek's silence, he hasn't shown any signs of it.
When the sky starts lightening, they've been dozing for a while. Stiles stretches and yawns loudly before he says "I should go before my dad wakes up and worries. He'd be disappointed to know there's no supernatural stuff to stress about." Derek chuckles.
At the door, Stiles hesitates then spills, "I'm sure there are plenty of other things I should be apologizing about."
"Like making me a criminal wanted for murders?"
"Hey! That wasn't me! That was Scott!"
Derek smirks and shrugs "We're all works in progress." wincing at himself when he realizes he's quoting Peter. Stiles laughs lightly. "Some of us are making great progress, uh?" he says while gently elbowing Derek, who rolls his eyes.
Stiles is smiling when he says "Later alligator". When he's gone, his laugh echoes a long time after Derek showed his teeth and said "Wolf".
3
Stiles has called Derek on a whim. He and Maddy reached an agreement: they both need training, after what happened. They are on paid leave for a few weeks, not that either of them asked for it or wanted it. Maddy called and said, "If I have to look at my ceiling for one more minute, I will go crazy." After Stiles has suggested a few other activities (like stabbing herself with a fork), they talked - more or less, they didn't actually talk about what happened or how it made them feel (not that Stiles would want that but his therapist seems to think it'd help). And they came to the conclusion that they need to train. That would be a good use of their time.
He's said to Maddy, I know just the guy - she didn't ask much about him and he didn't have much to tell. In a corner of his brain, a voice noted that it was the perfect occasion to check if Derek was still as hot or if his memories had made him more than he was.
So Stiles called Derek, and said "my colleague and I need physical training, can you help?" There was only one second of silence before Derek asked "are you coming or should I?"
And Stiles thought about it for a minute, thought of the unbearable prospect of being in Beacon Hills, of having to talk with his dad, was positive he couldn't possibly deal with some supernatural bullshit right now. He always felt restless in Beacon Hills. But he knew Maddy could use the change of scenery.
That's how, barely one week later, he finds himself in the loft, him, Maddy and Derek all wearing sportswear and ready to fight. And Stiles can vouch for his brain and his memory because Derek is actually sexier than what he remembers. Maybe Stiles is a little proud of his own newly defined muscles.
When Maddy gets a firearm out of her bag, clarifying that it's not loaded, Derek says "I don't like guns." He speaks with a frown so characteristic Stiles has to roll his eyes. Maddy looks at him, bemused. "You told me this guy could train us."
"Yeah, fighting! Not shooting," Stiles points out.
"Okay" Maddy says and, before Stiles can even put his bag down, she's jumping at Derek. Derek who doesn't look fazed for even a second, just catches her, twists her arm to show he can and pushes her away - all of this quite gently, Stiles notices.
He looks at his colleague who seems surprised, before squinting and attacking again.
Stiles throws his bag and himself on the ground. This is gonna take a while. Letting Maddy exhaust herself was probably the right way to go. She's basically told him it's what she needs. And isn't Derek the perfect man for the job. Stiles watches as he keeps eluding her, pushing her away, getting her in a grip before slipping away. The agent has a tight concentrated look on her face that is slowly turning to rage as she realizes none of her attacks meet her target.
Stiles stays in his corner. He expects Derek to say something about her anger or the need to control since Maddy's hits are less and less precise, but he just keeps taking them. At one point, when Maddy stops to take a sip of water, her hands and arms shaking, Stiles catches Derek's interrogative eyes. He whispers "I'll explain later" and sees Derek nodding. His partner is already throwing her bottle down.
Later, when Maddy has thrown all of her rage at Derek, when she's lying down, trembling and drinking and loudly asking "How can this guy not be tired" Stiles launches himself at Derek. He knows very well he has no chance but it feels good to throw himself in the training. He listens to Derek's feedback and shows off a few holds he's learned. Derek clashes his teeth together a few times to make him laugh and it works. But they work mostly: focus, intent, the room is filled with. Stiles tires much faster than Maddy but can't help feeling proud when Derek watches him, clearly impressed. And says so.
Stiles tries not to gloat.
*
"Why didn't you ask Scott?"
"Things have been kind of weird, since Lydia and I broke up. Also, Scott is strong but you and I both know you're a better fighter. You got moves, dude." Derek tries not to smile, Stiles can see it and it makes him want to continue. Alas, Derek is asking, "What happened between you?" And Stiles can't help himself from thinking, now is the time Derek chooses to ask personal questions? Derek who never talks to Stiles about intimate stuff, chooses today to ask, about Lydia of all things.
"We realized we were better off friends. That we didn't work as a couple, we had trouble compromising..." He trails off then sighs. It's Derek fucking Hale. Stiles doesn't even need to look at Derek's face to make sure Derek knows he's lying. Or not lying per se, merely transforming the truth.
He sighs again before speaking, quick and low.
"I was jealous. I didn't mean to be possessive, I just didn't think Lydia could actually want to be with me rather than... most men I guess. Every time she was close with someone I felt threatened and no matter how much I tried to bury it, I ended up taking it out on her, making her feel it."
Stiles wonders if Derek can smell the shame he feels. If he can feel how deep it goes. If Derek will despise him, which is not something he ever thought about. Or doubted. Derek has always more or less despised Stiles. At best, patronized him. At worst, probably wanted to kill him.
He closes his eyes, fists clenched. "It seems my unconscious thinks I'm unworthy. And knowing Lydia's exes, I don't know, it made me feel... you know them, you've met Lydia's exes. You see what I mean?"
"A Kanima and a sheriff deputy? You're about to be an FBI agent." Stiles barks a surprised laugh. "First, yes, but not one who'll despise the work of a sheriff's office, I'll have you know. Second, come on you've seen Jackson or Parrish right? Hot buffed guys? Can't compete with that," he finishes with a deprecating gesture towards himself.
"You're not ugly."
"Oh my God, thank you, Derek!" Stiles exclaims, putting a hand over his heart. "I'm really touched you think so. You don't know how much I needed to hear that-"
"Shut up," Derek cuts in his ironic rant, rolling his eyes. "I understand you used to be ... less attractive than those guys, but you've grown pretty nicely." He's the one gesturing towards Stiles and Stiles' body.
Stiles' brain kind of shuts down at that. Derek thinks he's good-looking, right? That's basically what he just said. Stiles could kiss him and, if he didn't have the burning memory of his 21st birthday party, he probably would.
Then Dereks turns from him and says "Are we exercising?" And Stiles may not have heightened werewolf senses, but he sees the flush of Derek's face and neck. He smiles like a madman, an idea forming as he jumps into fight position.
He thinks about Derek, the way the sweat runs on his muscles, his breath on Stiles' skin a long time ago, about the way he'd want to make that happen again. He allows himself to think things he normally would ban from his brain in a werewolf's presence.
And it works: he sees Derek hesitate, sees him miss a beat. He jumps at the chance and triumphally manages to pin him to the wall. "Ggetting distracted, Hale?" He gets closer to whisper in his ear: "What about them chemo-signals, uh?" and delights in Derek's disbelieving look. "Wanna know what I was thinking about?" Derek pushes him away, looking very red. "Told ya I'd get back at you!" This time, Derek laughs, a little hysterical and Stiles feels elated.
Maddy's "How did you do that?" pulls him back to reality. It's his turn feeling his face flush. He ignores Derek's smirk and clears his throat. "Just luck."
When they separate that evening, Derek turns to Stiles and says: "I don't think you're unworthy. Of Lydia, or anyone."
*
"How long have you been a martial arts teacher?" Maddy asks during a break, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.
Derek frowns. "I'm a librarian."
Stiles breaks into giggles, while an incredulous Maddy looks at the both of them. "Is he kidding?"
"He isn't! He's a real nerd." Stiles fake-whispers. Derek crosses his arms. Maddy just looks between them and seems to let it go. "Whatever, you're good."
*
"We should do an assault course or something," Stiles says on the third day. He's mostly fed up with being inside all the time, taking hits from Derek, Stiles' whole body sore. He's not even sure he's still learning: he's just avoiding Derek now, who has also slowed down, maybe out of pity, maybe out of tiredness. Maddy's the only one who seems to still be all in. She told Stiles she's finally sleeping and he understands what it means. He understands she needs this to keep going so she can sleep. But Stiles is bored, sore and restless. His skin is burning with the sun shining through all the windows of the loft. If he can't lie down to bask in it, he at least wants to feel the sun directly on his face. And he needs some air.
Derek must too because he's quick to respond "Sure, we can do that in the preserve." They both turn to Maddy, who shrugs. "I guess.
"Yes!" Stiles pumps his fist in the air and jumps on his feet. "Last one in the car is a nerd!" He runs so fast going down the stairs he's panting when he comes out, welcoming the delicious rays of sunshine - he doesn't stop but the steps behind him are still far so he knows he's got time to get to the car when- Derek falls from the sky just in front of him. Stiles has to blink, and almost trips - Derek's hand on his arm gently catches him and prevents him from falling. "Where the fuck do you come from?" Derek has a smug look on his face that he attempts to hide behind a "where do you think?" eyebrow gesture to the loft windows. Stiles sighs.
"Did you just jump out the window from the 5th floor?" he hears Maddy asking from behind him. Derek looks embarrassed and Stiles just laughs. "Nah, there's another staircase. He's just faster than us." He turns a stern, "be careful with your secret" face to Derek who sends him an almost-apologetic look before asking, "Are you slow nerds ready?"
Stiles and Maddy both groan.
He's been running and jumping and trying not to stumble upon many roots, trying not to think of the Nemeton, every time he turns behind a bush his heart fastening, expecting the tree stump. But they're keeping on, Maddy and Stiles both covered in mud, panting in the leaves, climbing on trees, and crawling under branches, under Derek's subtly amused look and nothing weird happens - until it does.
Derek chasing them, they've come to an abrupt halt on the bank of a pond, not large enough to be a lake but enough that Stiles can't see how deep it is. He looks at it, looks at his partner who just smirks, and gets ready to dive. Except he doesn't go anywhere because Derek's strong grip on his arm is stopping him.
"We're not going there."
"Uh. Are there… animals in it? Snakes, maybe?" Stiles asks with a glance at Maddy. Derek just shakes his head.
"What then? Are you scared?" Stiles can't stop the laugh but regrets it as soon as it's out of his lips. It's too late, though, Derek's face turned to stone, his eyes cold. He crosses his arms on his chest, and answers, "I don't want to get in the water. I don't want to get wet. That's it", he adds, in a fruitless effort to make it more convincing.
Stiles raises a doubtful brow. "Swimming is part of the training and it makes sense in the exercise! We're not going to go all the way around this pond!
"I can."
"Well, yes, of course you can, but you're supposed to attack us in the water or something!"
"I. Don't. Want. To. Get. In. The. Water." Derek groans through gritted teeth, eyes screaming murder.
"Okay, guys, no need to fight." Maddy tries, rolling her eyes. "Come on Stiles-
"We're not fighting! He's being stupid! Why do you always have to be so stubborn?" Stiles doesn't know why, but the change in Derek's demeanor, his sudden hostility towards him, hurt.
"Look who's talking," Derek answers with a nasty look that makes Stiles see red.
"Oh my god do you want to train us or not!! Fighting in the water is a very real thing that can happen to us, you and I should know it better than-"
Stiles stops.
A second goes by. Then another.
Derek doesn't look at him, his face still closed off.
Maddy frowns.
"You're scared." This time it's not a question, and it doesn't make him laugh. It's almost a whisper.
Derek doesn't say anything, but his body tenses.
"Have you, err, have you been in water ever since-" he sends a quick look to Maddy, who seems more confused by the second "since the crocodile attack?"
Derek huffs, as if he's offended that anybody would think he'd be scared of a fucking crocodile and god Stiles wants to hit him on the head. Then he shrugs. "Not really." His voice is strained, smaller than usual and his eyes low, not exactly looking at Stiles. Stiles who doesn't know how he feels about that, about Derek being scared of water, Derek being so traumatized by the Kanima, by his helplessness, that almost 10 years later he can't swim.
"I didn't know."
"Why would you?" Derek says, eyes raising to meet Stiles'.
"We were together! With the - err, crocodile! We could have talked about it… I still have nightmares in which I let you go and you drown-"
He stops because Derek looks sick. "So you understand."
"Yeah I do."
"I don't. In case anyone cares" Neither of them turns to Maddy, who sighs.
"Well, today's your lucky day because we're getting into this pond. We're facing your fear. Come on."
"No."
"Yes."
"Why do you insist?"
"I really want to see you all wet."
Stiles wishes he thought before speaking. There's silence for a few seconds, time enough for him to feel stupid. Maddy sighs again.
"I can't," Derek says softly. And Stiles wants to take his hand, lead him in the pond, wants to say it's gonna be okay. But Derek, Derek just admitted to fear. So Stiles nods, swallows, and says "Next time, uh?" Derek's small smile is worth it.
*
"Do you want to know? Why I called you. You didn't ask." Derek stays silent, as usual. Stiles isn't even mad at him, despite the anger boiling in his blood, craving for anything to launch at.
He doesn't expect Derek asking "Do you want to tell me?"
His eyes slip away from Derek, staring into space.
"We lost someone. A kid." He hears Derek inhale. "Maddy, she's a newbie, like me. She's not experienced. We were on this investigation, a woman killed. I was sure the lover was the one who'd done it, but we had to let him go, not enough evidence. And our partners, Maddy's and mine, older and more experienced, they thought the neighbor was a better suspect. I knew this guy was evil and I couldn't make them believe. They didn't believe me!"
He's shouting, he suddenly realizes. But Derek doesn't seem to mind, just listens intently to him.
"Maddy did. She had the same feeling. She wanted to see it through with me. So, we went after him. We followed him. He... he was going to the sister's home. Where the kid, the dead woman's kid, was. We were just behind him but it wasn't fast enough. We just weren't fast enough. The kid had seen it, you see. We hadn't been able to make him talk, since the murder. But it wasn't enough for this guy. He had a gun. So did we, but he was really fast. And we didn't want to hurt the kid. Maddy went at him, they fought but he hit her with the gun. Not hard enough that she didn't see what happened next. I shot him, but he shot at the same time."
A desperate laugh escapes his lips. "We weren't even reprimanded, since we solved the case. The guy isn't dead, by the way. He's waiting for his trial. And we're on paid leave because the next day we came back to the office and Maddy destroyed a computer."
There's a long silence, during which Stiles can feel Derek's eyes not leaving his face. He brings his knees to his chest.
"She thinks if she had been just a little stronger, if we had been just a bit faster... She needs to feel like she can do something. Like she isn't powerless."
This time, Derek is the one to break the silence.
"And what about you?"
Stiles shrugs, then whispers, "It's not the first time I see an innocent's life taken and I feel powerless. It's not new to me. But I need to be stronger, too. Also, I need to stop thinking," he finishes with a deep sigh, throwing his head on the wall behind him. He blinks a few times to chase the tears then opens his eyes, and looks directly into Derek's. Derek who gets up and holds out his hand. "Let's go then."
4
Derek briefly wonders if he should keep his distance, stay away from the figure before the stone. But he's there now, and it would be craven. He came for a reason, he knows what day it is, he knew he would find Stiles here. even if he pretends to clean his family's tombs.
So he walks, trying not to be stealthy without making too much noise. He doesn't want to disturb Stiles, he doesn't want to frighten him either. A few meters away, he stops. Leaving open the possibility for Stiles to ignore him.
Stiles doesn't even turn to say, "My dad said the flowers don't disappear anymore. Thought the thieves got tired of his taste."
Derek huffs a laugh and comes forward.
Sure enough, the flowers he rescued from another tomb (the sheriff's scent on the flowerpot charged with enough grief to last and remain several days later) are there. Stiles brought another bouquet, small wildflowers that look fragile but probably aren't.
Stiles sniffles. "Thanks. For the flowers and, being here."
Derek's voice is soft when he speaks. "I wish I could help. With this kind of pain.
- You're not all-powerful, big wolf."
There's a beat when they're both silent, before Stiles speaks again. "So many unbelievable things we've seen through the years, parallel realities and people coming back from the dead, one thing doesn't change uh?"
Stiles briefly turns to him, eyes bright with tears.
"A few years back, when I was still discovering about the supernatural, I used to come here, like I was hoping - I wished so hard, for it to stop being real. To change."
Derek doesn't know what to say to that, except he understands. He's tried that too, the bargaining. But the dates on the stones have not changed, no matter how hard he or Stiles prayed.
"I just recently realized, her death and the fire - at your family's house - it must have happened the same year?"
Derek nods.
"My mother, every memory I have of her, it's been tainted by the memories of her when she was ill. I've been remembering more, the past few years. That's therapy for you, yay! I think she was a great mom. She used to sing a lot. I don't even know if she was good at it. I have a terrible singing voice. I've been listening to some records that she liked. Trying to get past the pain, to not let her be forgotten. I guess you know all about that..."
Derek, gently, ever so slowly, takes Stiles' wrist in his hand. Met with interrogative eyes and a heartbeat quickening, he shrugs and says "It's worth trying - for the pain". Stiles smiles, weak and sad, but doesn't move.
His voice is lower when he resumes, "I guess you know all about that. Even if I - I have no idea what you went through. I know it's not the same."
"We were both orphaned."
"There were a lot of people in your house, that day." Derek only nods, grief still burning, still raw in his stomach and his chest, only made worse by Stiles', the turmoil, the devastating, overwhelming sorrow that comes off him.
"What was it like?" Stiles clears his throat, before continuing, "I'm an only child and my mother wasn't around much with her disease... What was it like, having a big family?
"Oh. It was... noisy, mostly." He sees Stiles stifle a laugh. "Hey, try living with ten other people. It wasn't just my parents and my sisters, there was, well, Peter you know about, other members of the pack, some permanently, some just came by every other day. Their children too, much younger than me - just little kids."
Derek speaks, about life as a pack, about his mother being a great alpha and a great mom but busy. About his father's negligences. About having trouble finding his place, about Laura being raised to be the future Alpha, and Peter's envy poisoning Derek. He talks about the joy and the pack gatherings, about the wild runs in the woods. About being part of a pack, having that as a cornerstone of his life, everything else made possible by that fixed point.
Then he talks about the earth opening up beneath his feet, about being robbed from this, from the safety and the certainty. From the unconditional love and bonds.
About his heart being pulled out of his chest, torn into pieces then forcibly put back, and having to breathe, to live anyway.
About being two orphans in New York, licking their wounds, Laura not knowing how to be an alpha for a pack of two.
About loneliness.
About the guilt. When he says Kate's name, though, his voice is steady.
About clinging to anger as an anchor.
He talks so much his voice is raw. Sometime along the way, Stiles has slid his wrist so his hand is in Derek's, fingers linked.
"The hardest part, I suppose, was not getting to say goodbye. "
Stiles presses his hand - the feeling of his touch reminds Derek of another time, long ago, the same hand on his shoulder. He tries to shrug the memory away. Clears his throat and frowns. "Today isn't about me."
"Maybe I like listening to you," Stiles replies, eyes earnest and Derek can feel it: his heartbeat has slowed down, and there's less angst around him.
"What do you want to do?" He asks because Stiles should have someone ask him that, today of all days.
Stiles has texted him to tell him he'll be back, and Derek has passed Claudia's tombstone enough times to make the connection. That's why he's here today. He's spent the day at the station with the sheriff on a homicide case and when he left, the sheriff wasn't nearly done with his day. So Derek came, just to make sure Stiles had someone to keep him company if he wants it.
"I don't know. I'd like to do something that pays tribute to her, to what she was."
"We should go to karaoke." The words are out of Derek's mouth before he can think about them and he can see on Stiles' face how unexpected they are (coming from him, probably). But he doesn't let that deter him. He's offered karaoke, yes, and he won't back down now.
"You said she liked to sing" he adds begrudgingly.
Stiles' smile stretches into a shit-eating grin, one that would be slightly worrying if it wasn't about something as innocuous as karaoke.
"Oh my God dude! We are so doing that! And you're coming! No takebacks! Ooooh, you are so going to regret it, I told you I have a terrible voice, your superears are gonna super bleed, you should probably get hold of a pair of earplugs. Oh man, you're gonna sing too! You know I'm not letting you leave before you sing at least one song! I'm texting the group chat, I'll make Scott order them to come if I have to."
When they get back to their cars, Stiles turns to Derek and says, almost shy: "It worked, you know. It helped with the pain." There's a glint in his eyes and that's when Derek realizes they're still holding hands.
(They go to the karaoke, everyone sings, it turns out Mason and Liam are good at it, Stiles really is terrible; when it's Lydia's turn, a horrified Scott says “please just scream” and they laugh a great deal. Derek stays mostly quiet, sat next to Stiles on an uncomfortable booth, acutely aware of the point where their knees touch. When they leave, Stiles makes Derek give him a ride and says, accusingly "You owe me a song". Derek sighs, puts I want to break free on, and even lets Stiles film them when they harmonize. He treasures the memory of Stiles' laugh.)
5
Stiles is dead. He knows that, intellectually, but he's still having trouble coming to terms with it. Mainly because his conscience is still very much there and very much aware of his being alive. He doesn't know what shape he is, is the thing.
He has tried speaking, he has gathered all his energy in willing his muscles to move, his mouth to form the words. But he didn't quite feel himself talk, nor did he hear anything. At first, he thought he may have been deaf. Then paralyzed. Maybe he wasn't even dead.
So he’s concluded he’s some kind of ghost, though still able to feel things and even hear things, just not the way he used to. He can feel noise vibrating, echoing around him.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed since he arrived here. In the beginning, he was afraid he would go crazy, but he’s not there yet. After all, it's not the first time Stiles is locked away somewhere, probably dead. This time though, he has no doubt his friends are looking for him, and this thought keeps him going. Someone is searching for him. And he isn't going to let them down. Not his dad, not Scott, not Lydia or Maddy or Kira or Malia and the younger ones and. Not Derek. He can't be dead.
If he is, he can't stay dead.
He is resolute about that.
He won't stay dead. No one will make him.
*
It's not the first time Stiles has disappeared like that, which is probably the reason everyone is calm. No one is panicking. When Derek looks around, he sees resolute faces, swords being sharpened, claws being taken in and out, guns being cleaned. He sees people ready to fight.
He doesn't feel the same calm.
He feels sick.
What if nothing works? What if Stiles stays dead? What then?
If they decide to avenge him. If they decide to keep searching. If they reignite a war that's been dormant for so few years.
He doesn't have the answers to those questions and he doesn't think anyone does. He doesn't ask them anyway, because he focuses on the plan. On doing something, to save Stiles.
His partner is here, the woman Derek met a few years back. She looks at him to feel less lost, he knows it. The others look at Scott, waiting for his orders, and at a time like this, Derek is grateful he's not the one who has to lead them. He doesn't want to. All he wants is for Stiles to be okay, to come back to them.
Doesn't want to question the feelings around that. He has poked and tiptoed around them, he has looked at them, hard and deep, and breathed through them. He knows himself, heart, mind, and body. He just needs more time, he just needs Stiles for a little longer.
So there he is, heart torn with worry and dread, but ready as ever. Ready to take on the world - a world, at least.
Limbos, it is called.
At first, Kira’s mother was reluctant to tell them about it.
It has been a hardship on all of them, learning about limbos. It isn’t their first time dealing with an afterworld that nobody comes back from, as Malia noted. But limbos are different from even the wild Hunt, Deaton insisted. Some people have been there and back, except they were changed forever and did not come back with their loved one. “As long as you don't look back, you should be good,” Peter told Derek under his breath. His nephew’s murderous glance had no effect on him, other than making his smile bigger.
Derek thought about it, what if there was some ordeal they couldn’t pass?
But according to Deaton, the main risk is getting lost or never finding the person they’re looking for. To which Lydia answered, regal: "Maybe for those who go without a Banshee" and Derek wished she felt as confident as she was trying to appear.
Even for the supernatural they are used to, Limbos are hard to conceive. A world that is not a world, Deaton said. A space in-between. Mason and Lydia looked fascinated for a moment and Derek could see the gears in their mind, trying to comprehend the physics of it. The sheriff didn’t care about that, though. Noah, looking more tired than Derek ever remembers seeing him, grabbed his gun and asked: “Where is it then?”
Of course they have to go to the Nemeton to find the entrance. Derek can see how Scott still reacts to it and is reminded of Stiles running in the forest, of a training session that has lived in his head for a long time. He has to force himself to breathe.
Maddy, the sheriff, Mason, Liam and Hayden remain on their side of the world.
Scott, Lydia, Kira, Malia, Theo, Argent and Derek cross the threshold to limbos. Derek doesn’t look back.
*
Uh oh. Stiles (or what is left of him, a ghost, a soul, whatever) is thinking. A lot. And it’s making everything painful.
Trying not to think about his friends (about Derek) is like trying not to think about a pink elephant. It hurts so much he wants it to stop. He wants everything to stop.
The last time Derek came to Chicago to help on a case, Stiles wanted him to stay, so bad. He didn’t tell him, didn’t do anything when Derek left, all private smiles and soft hugs. Fucking hugs, Stiles didn’t even know when they had begun. Stiles didn’t like hugging Derek because he never wanted to let go.
And then the moment was gone and so was Derek, leaving Stiles with questions. Could he? Should he?
Nothing happened and now nothing will and Stiles feels so fucking stupid. Which isn’t a very pleasant feeling to have while dead and stuck in an eerie afterworld.
All in all, hell sucks.
*
"Run! We'll keep them! Go!" Scott hesitates for a second too long, eyes lingering on the creatures that are surrounding Malia and Theo. Derek doesn't. His grip on Scott's arm tightens and he's basically dragging him, before Scott finally turns, face resolute, and starts running. They both know Malia and Theo won't last long, they have to put the greatest distance possible between them and the demons. Fucking demons.
He and Scott are already catching up with Lydia. Derek sees her hesitate at a crossroads - he catches a glimpse of each path and he can't say there's one more attractive, but somehow she decides and goes for the worst-looking.
They enter a passage narrow enough that Derek's pretty sure the creatures pursuing them can't follow. He signals to Scott, who's carrying Lydia at this point. They stop, allowing her to catch her breath. The same anguish he feels reflects on the faces in front of him.
They don't understand the rules of this place, nor the geography. Much information they found about limbos was contradictory. Scott wanted to wait before rushing headfirst and risking all their lives, but Derek has been advocating for rushing. Every hour, from the moment they knew where Stiles was, has been torture. Derek was fine with going alone and had said so - ignoring the looks from most of the pack. Malia wasn't going to wait either and Lydia - Lydia had been going crazy trying to find a trace of Stiles anywhere in their world. Once she knew he was in Limbos, she'd become so calm it was frightening. Coldly focused.
Here they are, running around, following Lydia's instinct. Every now and then since they've entered this world, she's screamed to find the way. None of them has any means to know if they're on the right track. Scott and Derek haven't been able to find Stiles' scent anywhere. Derek hates it. He hates being so powerless that all he can do is stumble in the dark, fight creatures he doesn't even comprehend the shape of, not even able to say if they're running in circles because he's sure the world is changing around them.
The heavy silence between them pulls Derek away from his thoughts. There's barely enough light for him to see Lydia, who's shaking her head, eyes closed (her very human eyes can't make out anything in the obscurity), tears running from them. Scott presses her hand. Derek can feel her confusion, her despair when she says "I don't know where to go".
So, here they are. Lost in the dark.
*
Stiles can hear water running, somewhere. Unable to tell where it's coming from, everything fuzzy except for this. Water running, like rapids, or maybe a demon taking a shower, how would he know. For the moment, hell has been quite disappointing and he's reminded of the wild hunt in a painful way. At least then he had a human form and human sensations. And was surrounded by humans. He can't tell what surrounds him here, even though he knows he's not alone. He can feel it. No need for supernatural senses. Except they would probably help.
He shouldn't think about supernatural beings, he should definitely not think about the pack and he sure as hell should not be thinking about Derek because that makes him sick. He can feel his phantom stomach churn.
He doesn’t know if he should believe his friends are coming anymore. It’s been so long and anyway, what if they come? How will they find him, recognize him, make him human and alive again? Also, he has no idea how much normal time has passed since he died. What if it's only been one minute? An hour? Stiles is so exhausted it feels like an eternity.
He's starting to freak out when he hears a shriek - one that sends a shiver down his spine, one he would recognize anywhere. One that makes him want to cover his nonexistent ears.
The scream bounces around him, echoing like he's in a very large cave, surrounding him like it's growing instead of fading away. Stiles wants to answer it. He wants it so badly, puts all his energy into trying to respond, all the psychic strength that is all he's got left he put into forming a shout. "I'm here, Lydia, Scott, I'm here."
He doesn't hear anything coming from him but he doesn't stop trying. Willing it. Thinking about the way he orders the mountain ash into place, thinking about all the times he has achieved something by sheer force of will.
There's only silence buzzing around him.
Even the rapids have gone quiet. Even the feeling of other souls beside him has faded.
Only silence.
He's exhausted and doesn't know how to hold on. He feels himself drifting - drowning in the silence and absence of sensation.
*
Lydia suddenly turns around, jumping in a new direction in a frenzy. In a few steps, Scott catches her arm, asking: "Lydia, stop! Do you know where we're going?"
"I heard him! I heard Stiles!"
Derek's heart misses a beat. He exchanges a look with Scott, confirming neither of them has heard anything. Lydia looks between them, squaring her shoulders and tying her hair back. "I know what I heard. I know where to go."
"What if..." Scott hesitates. "What if it's an illusion? What if it's a trap? I don't think we should just run into it."
"Do you have a better idea?" Derek's own voice surprises him. It sounds low and raspy, like he hasn't used it in hours.
"No, but - don't you think we should be careful? We don't even know what happened to Malia and Theo! And we've fought illusions just about an hour ago in case you've forgotten!" Lydia's shoulders slump a little, but she doesn't look like she's going to surrender. Derek clenches his fists. "We don't have any other lead. We don't have a lot of time left." He can hear the desperation in his tone, how badly he wants to move. "You can go back to Malia and Theo and I'll go with Lydia."
Scott frowns, looking like he's about to say something then gives up. He takes a deep breath then slowly nods. "Okay."
Derek's already turned around when Scott calls in his back: "Derek"
"Just... Get him back. Please."
Derek swallows.
"I don't want to come back without him." he hears himself say, voice strangled.
Scott smiles like it's painful.
The next second he's turned around and disappeared behind the corner.
Lydia takes his hand and they run.
*
His mother and father appear before him, vague shapes that he can't decide are real or not. He keeps asking them "Am I dead? Am I?" but they don't answer.
He can feel other - people? souls? he can feel their pain, they're closer now than they were before and it hurts him, he wants them to go away but he can sense them getting even closer. The closer they get, the more he wants to leave. He wants it to end. He hears voices now, distorted, inhuman. Saying human words though, that cut in his heart even when he tries not to let them.
You're alone here.
Nobody's coming
We have to accept our fate to be free
I am being punished, maybe you are too
Stiles thinks of all the things he did that some divine or superior being would want to punish. He thinks of Donovan and the pain is still sharp, more acute here and now than ever before. He would vomit if he could. What if Donovan's soul is here. What if he's been stuck all these years, waiting for Stiles to come to get his revenge? He thinks "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" because he is. He has been for so long, sorry and guilty and so lonely about it. Scott and his dad have both said he shouldn't. Maddy said so too, and commented "That's why your shots are so precise". He doesn't want to kill. He has and it doesn't matter if it was an accident or self-defense, there are nights he whispers "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" until the sun comes up again.
Derek didn't say he shouldn't feel guilty. Derek said you learn to live with it, Derek said: "It's true that it gets less painful." And Stiles wanted to console him so badly, wanted Derek not to feel sad ever again. Derek said "One day Donovan will be a scar among others" and Stiles wanted to ask about Derek's scars, the ones he knows about, the ones he can guess and the ones he has no clue about. He wanted to ask but he didn't dare.
And here he is, in excruciating pain, soon to be out of his mind, the eternity before him to say "I'm sorry" and to fucking regret - never asking Derek, never taking his hand the way he wanted to, never telling Scott or his dad it wasn't about them, it was Beacon Hills, never explaining the way the Nemeton weighed on his soul, darkened everything the closer Stiles came to it. Never explaining that the furthest he could go while staying in the country was hardly far enough. Feeling so weak because Scott doesn't seem to mind, Scott wants to protect Beacon Hills by living near. Scott gets sad and closed off as Stiles leaves again and again. Derek says "He'll get over it" and doesn't ask - his eyes ask. The last time he came to Chicago, before leaving he said "I wish you could come more often" and that's it.
The voices around Stiles have started laughing. He can feel them poking at his feelings, at his thoughts, he feels hands digging into him. They whisper names and names and names and their voices start to grow, louder and louder, and Stiles feels he's going to explode with their shrieking, he tries to scream "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" and then "Stop it stop it stop it I want it to stop I want to die-"
The voices cut off.
There's only silence again.
Finally.
Stiles feels free. And lighter. So light.
*
Derek and Lydia feel it at the same time: Lydia stumbles, a hand on the wall, a strangled cry escaping her while Derek digs his claws in his palm, feeling dizzy. He can't he can't he can't.
*
Stiles feels like he's disintegrating.
*
Derek is running, trying to ignore the feeling that Stiles is leaving, holding on to the feeling of his presence, on the certainty that he is still here. Lydia calls behind him but he doesn't stop, until-
Of course.
Of fucking course.
The river is wild, the current strong and tumultuous.
Derek's on the bank, having stopped barely before falling into the water, trying to find his balance back.
He hears Lydia coming and suddenly she's by his side, breathing hard. She's looking across the water, searching for Stiles. Nothing looks like him and he feels her panicking but she's certain when she hisses: "He's there. He's still there."
Derek feels sick, eyes lost in the swirling foam of the raging river.
He has to. Lydia is looking at him, expecting him to do something. She sounds desperate when she pleads: "I can't go, Derek."
He nods. Makes a move to go in. She catches his arm. "You will find him?"
He lets a desperate laugh escape his lips. "I will."
And he dives.
*
Something changes in the air, that makes him feel more solid suddenly, more and more real. He isn't drifting anymore. Something's anchoring him and the pain recedes, making him pant. He hears it, suddenly, his breath coming ragged and quick. The noise of a river running very close to him is filling his ears. And over it, he hears a scream. Not a Banshee scream, just a voice breaking over his name, shouted again and again.
Lydia's voice seems to be coming from so far away, he should hold on to it but it’s hard. It may be a memory, a thought whiffed by the wind, or the voices that inhabit this world. An illusion.
But then, amid the river swelling and crashing, he hears another voice. "Hold on, Stiles. Please" says the voice, breathing harsh and spitting water, almost drowned.
And that feels real, Derek in this river, Derek in danger of drowning and Stiles wants to help Stiles wants to get him out but all he can do is hold on.
So he does.
*
When Derek finally reaches the other bank, fingers sinking in the dirt, he coughs water for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath. Stiles’ presence feels less like he's dying now.
Derek takes a few steps in the dark - he can't see anything, all he can do is feel around and finally, finally, catches Stiles’ scent, at the same moment his hands meet a solid shape that he grips.
“Stiles, Stiles, are you there? Can you hear me? Can you talk?”
The panic in Derek’s voice is painful to his own ears. He can’t be sure this form is Stiles, he can’t hear his heart beat (he would recognize it if he could, he would recognize it anywhere except it’s not beating it’s not beating it’s not).
The feeling of Stiles, though, is real. Derek couldn’t explain how but it gets realer every second. So he keeps on touching him, hoping and calling him in a whispered chant of his name: “Stiles Stiles Stiles”. “Come back to me, please, everyone is waiting for you, everyone wants to see you. I want you back. Please.”
He begs.
Suddenly, he hears it- a very faint thud.
*
Stiles sighs and it's audible. So is his voice when he says: “You found me.” He can feel his body turning human again, and Derek's hands all over it. He can see him, even in the dark cave, Derek here to rescue him, Derek whom Stiles has so much to say to-
“How did you find me?” he pants. “I wasn’t even sure I was there anymore."
"I would find you anywhere," Derek whispers. "Even in death.”
*
On the way back, it's Derek who holds Stiles' head above water.
+1
"I couldn't stay dead. I knew I wouldn't. I couldn't -" Stiles breaks off, the tightness in his chest making it hard to speak, a loud buzz in his ears.
Derek watches him expectantly.
"I would never leave without saying goodbye."
There's a very long second then Derek smiles, fond and giddy, and Stiles feels his face responding and his heart beating wildly, then Derek is saying, "I can't believe you died without ever kissing me."
And Stiles is laughing and then his hand is on Derek's neck and he's finally, finally kissing him. He’s laughing into it and it's not perfect, it's joy and relief and the deepest breath he's ever taken, it's Derek's hand on his heart and they're alive they're alive they're alive.
*