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Chapter Text

When the name Grzegorz tattoos itself across Derek's wrist in neat, thin strokes, his mother pats him on the head in sympathy and Laura laughs so hard she has to go to her room, the sound echoing down the hall as she goes. Derek was born at 6:33 in the morning on a Tuesday, so it's only his family that happens to be present for the event. Laura even took time off college to come see it - not that Derek would complain had she stayed, considering her reaction.

For a moment, Derek actually has a small one-person prayer circle for his intended - he isn't even religious - because holy shit, that name must've been a fucking death sentence in middle school. Then, he actually takes the time to consider the name. He doesn't know anyone who carries it - because it's not exactly easy to forget - but that's okay. Age differences aren't uncommon when it comes to soul-bonded people, and neither are instances where the indended pair take time to meet. Grzegorz - how the hell do you even say that, anyway? - could be older than him, or younger, or live far away and eventually end up moving to Beacon Hills. The possibilities are endless.

Even though Derek knows the probability of not meeting his intended is highly improbable, he can't help but be disappointed. He won't get to go into school today and walk straight up to them, wont be able to kiss them and know they're his. He knows he wants to wait, knows he can't imagine dating someone else now that he knows Grzegorz' name, but the thought of growing up like his Uncle Peter is horrifying. They think Peter's intended probably fought the bond, was maybe already married to some other non-believer, and no one holds it against him, but Peter will never love the way he's supposed to. That idea is miserable.

His friends all laugh when they see the name, and if it were anyone else, he'd be right there with him. But because it's his intended, because he already feels protective of this person - he doesn't even know the gender, that's how strange the name is - all he wants to do is punch them all. He can't imagine having to go through his own life with that name, considering having it tattooed across his wrist is mortifying by itself. Eventually they calm down, realizing how much Derek's situation actually sucks, but when the school day ends he still feels like shit.

When he comes home, Laura wraps him into a patented older-sister hug. He didn't realize he needed one, but he folds himself into it now, sighing in a small amount of relief. "I'm sorry for laughing," she mutters in his ear, pulling away. "I know it sucks. I think I was just happy not to be alone."

And Derek knows exactly what she means, because the Lydia written in perfect script across her wrist hasn't made an appearance yet, either.

Derek moves in with Laura for college, with her at NYU studying Literature and Business because she's just waiting to graduate and go to NYLS, while Derek starts freshman year at Parsons. It's difficult, with both of them having to commute from their tiny apartment and Laura seriously having to curb her habit of bringing strange guys home and scarring Derek for life, but they work it out. It's nice to see her - Laura and Derek have always been close - and Derek wonders if here, finally, he might meet Grzegorz. He's already taken a year off to wait, but with no Grzegorz in sight, he'd wondered if maybe all he needed was to get out. So he went to Parsons and started pursuing his dream; becoming an artist.

Sculpture has always been Derek's strong suit, but in school he gets to explore, dabbling in paints, sketching with charcoal, the whole nine yards. It's around then he starts dreaming, too - scenes full of mole-dotted skin and smooth, lanky muscle that have him waking with gasps, drenched in sweat and shaking. Laura says that's part of the bond of the intended - she started having them a couple years ago, when her intended started her adolescence. It's strange, because due to the ages and timing, they come to the conclusion that their intended mates are probably the same age, girls tending to hit puberty before boys.

Derek finally feels better about his probable 4-6 year age difference - Laura has to overcome at least 7.

It isn't a problem, necessarily - their own parents have a difference of ten, and neither of them will ever reach double digits. But it definitely sucks, because that means that both Derek and Laura are going to have to wait years in order to finally find who they're looking for.

So they throw themselves into their work instead. Laura reaches the top of her class, graduating from NYU with both BAs under her belt and a 3.97 GPA, having passed the LSAT with flying colors. Derek majors in Scuplture with a minor Charcoal Arts, and eventually, he graduates too. At 23 he takes a gap year before going for his major and returns to Beacon Hills, leaving Laura on her own. It's better that way, really - Laura is a mess, working far too long into the night and waking up way too early in the mornings. Law school is practically killing her, but Derek's never seen her happier; she's finally doing what she loves, and he can't complain about that.

His parents' house is just like he remembered it, teeming with people and alive with laughter and joy. It's so huge that Derek takes some time to get used to it, having accustomed himself to the claustrophobia of New York City. In Beacon Hills he can take his runs through the forest instead of Central Park, lose himself in the trees instead of getting stared at by 40-year-old female joggers. When he gets coffee it isn't Starbucks, it's home-brewed, ground by his mother in her coffee grinder and made especially just the way he likes it. He can cut his own wood to work with, shaping the material with a familiarity he never could've achieved without school. It's easy to fall into a routine there.

Derek's mother still worries over him, asking often how he feels. He knows she's worried about him not having found his intended, and she has every right to be - it worries him some days, too. But it was easier, in many ways, to live with just Laura. Now that he's in Beacon Hills again, the dreams have intensified - letting him know he's a lot closer than he ever would have thought. His intended would probably be in his senior year by now - he has to stop himself from hanging out around the school every day just to see if he can catch a glimpse.

When he asks around, no one seems to have any idea who he's talking about. He can't go to the school - that would be creepy - but all his family friends just smile at him with sympathy and shake their heads. "Unusual name, though," Mrs. Faulk tells him. "Unique. He'll be the only one around here, I can guarantee it."

Now that he's closer, his dreams shift; less flashy glimpses and more full out scenes. In one on a particularly good night, he almost manages to see his intended's face. He's a boy, with short brown hair and covered in moles. He hasn't described him to anyone yet, it feels too personal, but he loves what he's seen, loves the curve of his neck against his lips and the smooth skin beneath his hands. He dreams of laughing into that skin, of kissing that neck on cold days with his intended wrapped in his arms, his wrist painted with Derek, a small infinity sign tucked underneath. Every glimpse of that infinity sign seems precious and heady.

Laura, of course, finds her intended first.

It's Christmas break, and Laura is actually home this year, claiming she was unable to work without her little brother there to annoy her. It's so much easier with Laura around - he finally has someone to talk to about his dreams, the aching feeling in his heart. Laura tells him about her own, about her intended's strawberry-blonde hair that smells like vanilla and Chanel perfume, about how once, she managed to remember the sound of her laugh even in waking, about the rich sound that she can't escape. Laura looks exhausted, worn out and sad. Derek knows how she feels; working tirelessly, day after day, on top of waiting almost seven years for her mate, must be killing her.

Two days before Christmas, the doorbell rings. It's their mother who opens it, but Derek's on the couch, Laura spread out on her old bed upstairs attempting to study. She can't hear the words said at the door, the confident, lilting voice of the girl outside, but Derek can.

"Is Laura Hale home?"

Derek practically leaps off the couch to the door, gently pushing his mother out of the way. It probably would've gotten him a scolding had she not noticed the absolute wonder on his face. He stares at Laura's intended for a moment - strawberry blonde, just like he'd heard about a thousand times, and beautiful, perfectly beautiful enough to accompany Laura. She carries a look of determination, and she sizes him up for a moment until he asks.

"You're Lydia?"

"Yes."

The answer is enough. Derek is leading her up the stairs before his mother can finish exclaiming her surprise, Lydia following with the beginnings of a smile. He has no idea how she managed to find her, wonders how long she's been looking, wonders if she knows Grzegorz - but all of that will have to wait. Not even bothering to knock, he throws open the door to Laura's room, cutting off her anger by pulling Lydia through the door behind him.

Laura freezes. Books are strewn across her bed, and she's wearing old sweats and a fitted tee, highlighter still in her hand. It drops onto the blanket uncerimoniously.

Derek lets go of Lydia's arm and she walks towards the bed, appearing confident despite the fact that she's trembling. Laura is off the mattress in a flash, leaving her homework forgotten as she stands in front of Lydia. Neither of them speak.

Laura reaches out, tentatively, towards Lydia marked hand. The strawberry-blonde holds it up, and when their fingers link together they both shudder, wrists glowing as three stars ink themselves into their skin below each other's names.

Derek quietly shuts the door, smiling to himself as his heart aches inside his chest.

After that, Lydia becomes an almost permanent fixture in their house, Laura having taken the semester off to wait until Lydia finished high school. Her parents are actually the Martins, one of the richest families in Beacon Hills, but Lydia isn't shy about explaining her distaste for them. They spend their time trying to buy her affections, and whenever she speaks of them, Laura wraps her arms around her waist and kisses her hair. They're sickeningly cute, and Derek quickly discovers that while Laura is ruthless, Lydia is terrifying and incredibly cunning. She's smart, having been accepted to every single Ivy League in the country, early entry, as well as MIT and a few others. She decides, of course, on Columbia, because Laura is at NYLS and Columbia isn't too far away.

Derek discovers he actually likes Lydia, once you get past the mastermind exterior and really take time to look at her. She's wickedly smart and funny, but she's also fiercly loyal. Once, she and Laura accompanied Derek to the coffee, and when the barista tried hitting on Derek because "come on, you're never gonna find your intended anyway, why not have a little fun with me?" she'd threatened to use every resource she had to ruin her life, as well as to tell Sheriff Stilinski about how she was illegally sleeping with her boss.

He still doesn't know how Lydia figured it out, but she'd never bothered him again after that, and Derek had officially accepted Lydia as part of the family.

Through Lydia he ends up meeting some of her friends, hoping they might be able to tell him about any boy in their class with "Derek" on his wrist.

Jackson and Danny come over first, her ex boyfriend and his soulmate, who'd been best friends until Danny had turned eighteen and seen Jackson's name on his wrist. Danny is cool, someone Derek can see himself being friends with, despite the age gap, but Jackson is bratty and difficult. In confidence, Lydia explains that Derek's attractiveness makes Jackson feel inadequate. Laura gags at her mate calling her brother attractive, and he doesn't seen them again for several hours.

After them comes Isaac, who has yet to turn eighteen and find his intended. He's a sweet kid, quickly falling in with Derek due to their shared love of charcoal drawing. He eventually writes Isaac a recommendation to Parsons, and although he hasn't received the acceptance yet, Derek knows he will.

Erica and Boyd are next, and Boyd immediately befriends him. They share a dislike for talking and a love of baseball, and Derek finds that talking to Boyd is sometimes even easier than talking to Laura. Boyd is the only person besides Laura and Lydia that knows about his dreams, and Boyd explains he had the same experience with Erica, who is two years his junior. His mate his feisty and an obvious match for Lydia and Laura, teasing him just as easily.

Derek wonders if they were all put on this earth to embarrass him.

Allison is the most common visitor. She has a mate, Scott, but according to Allison, Lydia scares him, so Derek never actually meets the kid. They sound sickly sweet and hopeless, though, Lydia often making fun of Allison for daydreaming about him when she looks distant. Derek feels practically as brotherly with her as he does with Lydia, and they fall into an easy repitoire of Allison seeing straight through him and Derek reluctantly admitting things to her.

They're all great, but none of them know anything about Grzegorz. It's beginning to be frustrating; who is he? Is he an enigma? Does he even exist? No one can answer him, and when his twenty-fourth birthday comes and goes with no sign, he's starting to think he might go a little insane.

That is, until he hears about Stiles.

He's heard countless stories about him from Lydia and her friends already. Derek knows that Stiles is a strange kid, someone who talks too much about the strangest things and tends to get himself and others into trouble. But he also knows that Stiles is pretty well-meaning, and that he has a habit of taking care of his friends - he helped Scott and Allison when her father tried to get them to reject their bond, he cooks for his father every day so that he'll eat healthy; he even hugged Jackson, once, when Danny was home sick and Jackson's parents had been horrible to him. Jackson and Stiles don't even like each other. He's an enigma, but Derek doesn't really care about him until the day the subject of his name comes up.

"I still don't know it," Lydia states angrily, as if it's a personal injustice not to know something. Derek's ears perk up - Stiles isn't his real name?

"Well, Scott doesn't know it either, if that helps," Allison supplies. "He doesn't even know the first initial. Stiles has gone by the same nickname his entire life; the only people who know are probably the school and his Dad. According to Scott, he even goes into classes with substitutes early so that he can change the name on the attendance sheet."

Lydia scoffs. "It can't be that bad, and he knows it irritates me not to know things. I tried to pry it out of him today, but he squeaked and ran away, and I didn't really have the heart to run after him when he already runs like a newborn deer." Allison had laughed, but Derek couldn't breathe.

Stiles is a nickname. Probably based off his last name, now that Derek thinks about it. And that makes so much sense. Of course he would refuse to go by Grzegorz - who wouldn't? - and take a different name. Derek had been stupid not to think of it earlier. Stilinski is a Polish name, after all, and when he googled Grzegorz, so was that. He runs over all he can remember about Stiles in his mind, things that had been nonsense suddenly becoming precious to him. They're all the information he has on the closest thing to hope he's had in six years.

He doesn't tell anyone, he can't, that would be too much, having someone else hope with him. But when Lydia comes home explaining that she'll be at Stiles' house tonight for his birthday and naming, Derek forgets how to breathe and falls down the last two steps. Laura laughs at him and refuses to help him up. He doesn't care.

Tonight is the moment of truth. Tonight is the night that could change his life forever.

Stiles was apparently born at 9:46pm, and when Lydia leaves at 8, he can't stop shaking.

"What's wrong?" Laura asks, frowning as she settles in on the couch next to him. He's kept his hopes a secret, but he can't help but tell her now, so close to finally seeing if his suspicions are correct.

"Stiles," he whispers, turning towards her. "I think it's Stiles."

For a moment, Laura stares at him as if he's grown a third head. Then he can see the realization on her face, as if a brick just hit her right on the forehead and she'd seen it coming but not had time to get out of the way. "Oh my god," she breathes, "Stiles. Of course. You think it's him?"

Derek nods jerkily. "I don't know who else it could be. I didn't tell anyone - couldn't hope like that, but I - what if it's him? Laura, what if it's been him all along?"

Laura tackles him into a hug, the scent of her shampoo as warm and comforting as it's always been. "It's him," she whispers in his ear. "I know it is."

Lydia gets home at 10, buzzing with excitement. "I left as soon as I saw it," she breathes as she walks in, coming straight to Derek. "You total idiot! You knew, didn't you?"

Derek is too stunned to respond. She can't - she can't mean -

"Your handwriting is atrocious."

It isn't the sentence he was expecting, but he'll take it, because it knocks his breath away like he's been wounded. Your handwriting is atrocious. Handwriting. His hand. Writing it's name across skin. Stiles' skin. The left arm he's seen a thousand times, dotted in moles and marked by his name. Derek's name.

Stiles.

He doesn't move at all until Lydia smacks him, right across the face. It stings as much as it helps. "You need to leave. The sheriff is probably at work by now, and I told everyone to get the hell out, but I kept it a surprise. Get. In. Your. Car."

It's actually Laura's car, of course, but that isn't what he's worried about right now. Derek slings on his jacket before he can process what's happening, what he's doing. When he's in the car behind the wheel, he thinks he might be hyperventilating. Stiles. He's been waiting six years. Stiles. He'll be there in ten minutes. Stiles Stiles Stiles Stiles Stiles.

Derek says his name in his head like a god damn mantra. When he pulls up on the curb he barely takes the time to turn off the car before he's slamming the door behind him, bounding up the steps and to the front door. The nerves hit him in a tsunami wave.

Stiles is behind that door. He's going to meet him and he's going to love him and oh, god. Derek composes himself on the front stoop, taking deep, even breaths until he looks far cooler than he feels. He thinks up several greetings before deciding to wing it, because they all sound ridiculous, and knocks on the door.

The seconds of waiting are agonizing. He can almost feel the nearness, buzzing in his skin and he's so close, so fucking close, and then Stiles is there in front of him, his face more beautiful than Derek could have imagined in a thousand years. That's probably the only excuse he has for cupping Stiles' jaw in his hands and pressing their mouths together before Stiles speaks a single word.

He feels Stiles shudder even as he experiences it himself; the warm feeling of rightness settling in his ribs, the rush of heat across his skin. Stiles is frozen and unresponsive against him a moment before he kisses back, pulling Derek inside by his shirt and kicking the door shut. He loves this, needs this, loves the feeling of Stiles' hands in his hair as he trails his hands down to his mate's hips. Mate. Soulmates. Finally.

Neither of them want to pull away, but oxygen is something necessary for survival, and when Stiles breaks the kiss in a gasp, Derek can't help but chase the taste of his skin, pressing his lips to the bottom of Stiles' neck and inhaling his scent for the first time.

"Oh, my god," Stiles says, like he can't believe his luck. He doesn't know that Derek is actually the luckiest being in all existence.

Derek hums against his neck, and Stiles breathes a sound that Derek wants to hear a thousand times over. Pulling away, he places his right hand on Stiles neck and the back of his jaw, thumb caressing his cheekbone. "You're Grzegorz," he says, and Stiles is laughing, a rich sound that makes Derek want to laugh, too.

"All this time I spent trying to get rid of that name and you've had it on your wrist this whole time." For a moment, he looks mortified. "Oh, god, that must've been a party. How many people laughed at it on your birthday?"

He answers truthfully, "All of them."

Stiles laughs again, a little giddy. "Oh, my god, it's you. This is like, the stuff of fantasies, man." Derek definitely agrees; Stiles is even better than he'd fantasized about.

He presses his lips to Stiles' again, gently, because he can and because it feels so good. "This is way better than any of mine," he whispers honestly. Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Really? Because, dude, I've been hoping you'd be mine since last summer."

Derek can't contain his shock. "Really?"

Stiles nods. "It was when I saw you on a run. I was doing an experiment for school, summer work, you know? And I needed some samples from the woods and you were just there, and I've been dreaming about you since middle school and there was just this feeling. Your shoulders looked the same. I can't explain, really, but it was like I regonized you, I guess? And then you're like, the hottest guy I've ever seen, so it was a little of that. But mostly I just felt like I knew you. Tonight, when I was right, all I could do was stare at the name - which took me like a minute to read, we really need to work on your handwriting - and then you were here. Jesus Christ, Derek."

He chuckles, warm and low in his throat. Derek feels so overwhelmed, like he can't quite believe it, still. He'd begun to think he'd never find his intended, and now here they were, ready to bond at any moment. "Sorry I kiss attacked you," he whispers, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes. "I wanted to make a good impression, but once I had you in front of me, Jesus."

Stiles laughs at that. "It was a good impression. Very good. You should definitely do that instead of saying hi or anything. Except, just with me. That needs to be a you-and-me thing."

Derek holds up his right hand, and Stiles glances over and mirrors with his left. "Always you, Stiles," Derek breathes, kissing him at the same time he links their hands together. His wrist feels warm and he knows the infinity sign he's been seeing in his dreams is making it's way along their skin, but he can't be bothered to care when his lower lip is in Stiles' mouth.

Surprisingly to both of them, they do manage to make it upstairs and save the Sheriff from an eyeful in the morning.

Barely.

~*~

EPILOGUE

"Stiles, if you don't put the book down I'm going to tear out several pages!"

"You wouldn't! What if this test is all that is between me and graduating with full marks, hmmm? Don't you want to have a mate with a BA?"

Derek presses a kiss to the back of his neck, tying his tie at the same time. "I want you to get dressed."

Stiles turns to pout at him, but he gets off the bed, coming around to inspect his soulmate. He finishes tying Derek's tie himself, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw and following it with a nip that makes him shiver. "You look delectable," he breathes in his ear before pulling away, that smile Derek has always loved lighting up on his face. "Now I have to get dressed, stop distracting me!"

Derek laughs but sits on the bed quietly, doing as he's told. Stiles strips out of his shirt and boxers in a flash - Derek's shirt and boxers - before pulling on his own boxer-briefs and chasing them quickly with grey slacks. Derek's breath catches in his throat. He'll never really get over how beautiful Stiles is, especially naked; if he had his way, nudity would be a 24/7 kind of thing.

Of course, it isn't, but if Derek hadn't just seen Stiles naked, he'd say there was nothing hotter than Stiles in a perfectly-tailored grey suit. He ties Stiles' tie for him before using it to pull him into a kiss, messing up his already crazy hair and making sure Stiles' pupils are blown wide when he pulls away. "God, I hate you," Stiles breathes before pulling him back in.

They're ten minutes late and Scott is freaking out by the time they get there, but when Stiles escorts Lydia - the maid of honor - down the aisle and stands next to Scott and the altar, Derek thinks he's never looked more beautiful. And when Scott says his vows and Stiles makes a face behind him, Derek has to cover his mouth to prevent himself from laughing.

All in all, the Argent-McCall wedding is a success, and later, when he proposes to Stiles near the garden, that's a success, too. 

Chapter Text

Stiles starts having dreams when he's thirteen.

At first he thinks, whoa, hey, I'm finally becoming a man. It isn't until the second night that he wonders if maybe they're more than what they'd talked about in health class. The first night is all flashes of tanned skin and delicious abs, pleasure so intense he wakes up sticky and gasping. But the second night is different. It isn't about sex (although there are moments hot enough to have him tenting), but instead focuses more on the... love. The word tastes funny in his mouth, mostly because he's never really loved anyone before. In his dreams, though, it's effortless. They aren't full out scenes, no words to remember or moments he can quite recall. But when he wakes up, he can feel the fingers trailing down his spine, soft kisses given through smiles on his neck, his left hand tingling from the memory of being linked with someone else's. They make him feel weightless, make him feel alive. 

He asks Scott, but he's no help; none of his dreams are like that. He had a particularly fascinating one about Scarlett Johansson that makes Stiles seriously want to delve deeper into his best friend's psyche, though he's sure it would scar him for life, but nothing that will help him. It requires a week of embarrassment and apprehension to work up his courage and approach his mom instead.

"Hey, mom? Dad is older than you, right?" He has a theory, now, and his mom is the only one he feels comfortable testing with.

"Three years," she replies, smiling down at him. She has the best smile in the whole world. That smile could bake cookies if it tried.

"Did you ever... um, dream about him?" Now her smile widens, and she runs her fingers through his hair; her signature move. "Yes. Flickers at first, but they got more distinguished when we moved to Beacon Hills. You've been dreaming?" Stiles nods shakily.

"At first I didn't think it was important, but... I dreamed that he loved me. That's not normal, right?" His mother laughs, a sound that reminds him of pealing bells. Stiles loves that sound more than anything on the planet. "It's normal. You know why? Because he will," she tells him. "He'll love you more than anything; just like me." She runs her fingers through his hair again, and Stiles hums, content, no longer worrying. He'll have plenty of time to worry about his soulmate later. Right now, he has his mom, and his dad will be home soon, and then she'll start dinner.

Of course that would be the last day he sees her alive.

The day after his mother's accident, Stiles shaves his head. His dad doesn't ask why. He boxed up her aprons that morning, tears streaming down his face, and forgot to put a filter in the coffee machine. Stiles thinks they're both just trying to forget the things they really want to remember.

Scott is there every day, and Mama McCall too, even though she makes him miss his mom more than anything. She helps him with his homework, though, and makes him dinner, which is nice. His dad has been taking a lot of extra shifts lately. His uniform carries the sticky-sweet smell of whiskey, when Stiles can actually catch him in passing. Mama McHall seems worried, but she doesn't ask, just sets another place at the table for him. He loves the McCall's house.

His dreams don't go away through the sadness. They become a kind of comfort; a sleeping solace. In his dreams, his intended always wraps him in his arms, warm and strong. They're arms that make him feel safe and loved, and when those arms hold him down and make him scream, it's as lovely as when they cover him in soft caresses. They make him wake up smiling, even if only to remember that he doesn't have any reason to smile.

Stiles fights the change at first. He rebels at home hoping his dad will be around enough to notice. It doesn't work, only making the cloying smell of alcohol grow sweeter and the hours longer. It's like without his soulmate his father can't function anymore. It terrifies him, to the point where he wishes he would stop dreaming because no one should have that hold over him. But Mama McCall gives him hope. When her soulmate died she came back stronger, and fought every day to give Scott the life they have now. It makes him smile, gives him a reason to want his dreams like he used to. Because Mama McCall is actually a superhero. 

He knows it's childish, but he doesn't care.

The McCall household is something new, too. Scott becomes more of a brother to him, someone he can depend upon, someone to call on without question. It's a new, exciting feeling. He latches onto it easily in the haze of grief accompanying him.

The summer before his freshman year, Stiles finds his first guitar in a yard sale. It's in perfect condition, and he gets it for a steal, retuning it at home using the internet and his old computer microphone. He starts teaching himself to play that night, and by the time school starts he can't stop playing. He plays well past when he should be asleep, using the time to lose himself in notes and frets, in the hard press of the metal against his fingertips. It doesn't hurt anymore, doesn't bleed like it used to, although he enjoyed the way it felt to bleed for what he loves.

His first song is, of course, about his mother. He's angry and bitter, but more than anything, he's just sad. When he dreams that night, he dreams of hands that are rough and screams flying from his throat because nothing about it is gentle. He doesn't need gentle. He needs intense and slightly bitter, and even then his dream soulmate seems to know him better than anyone else. Stiles hates, more than anything else when he wakes up, that he has to wait a whole four years to finally know him. It aches in his bones, hollow and fierce, and he wonders if somewhere out there his intended is awake and thinking of him just as hard as he's thinking of them.

He hopes so.

Once he writes the first, it's as if the floodgates open. Each word, each chord helps him heal a little more. Stiles talks to Mama McHall now, tells her about things, almost adopts her as the mother he never thought he'd need but knows he might want to have. He writes songs about his soulmate and songs about people in passing; he even writes a song for Freddie, who lied to earn his pity and then tried to fulfill his mate-stealing kink before Stiles' sixteenth birthday. He throws it away at first - he doesn't deserve it - but ends up fishing it out of the trash, because every good musician needs heartbreak songs. 

Scott and Allison dance around each other all through sophomore year, even though it's obvious they were made for each other and all that's keeping them apart is an eighteenth birthday. Stiles tries to distract himself by focusing on Lydia, who's smart and perfect and so easy to fall into infatuation with when his soulmate wont notice him for another two years. That seems so far off, and dreams aren't enough anymore. Unfortunately, Lydia has Jackson, and Jackson has Lydia.

He writes a song for her and Jackson, each; she who wont tell the secrets Stiles thinks are gifts, and Jackson who wont reveal any of his good qualities until it's far too late, although he thinks Danny sees them a little too blatantly. He wonders if that's why they gravitated towards each other; because maybe they both needed a reality to hold onto, and the only place they know how to find reality is in people who keep their reality behind bars. 

Erica filters into their little group somewhere in the middle of junior year. It's an odd mix; the epileptic who used to be the laughing stock of stupid people with nothing better to do (Lydia sets them straight), the most popular couple in the entire school, Allison, who's pretty and Lydia's best friend but has her status demoted by Scott, who is so dorky it's laughable. Stiles isn't exactly sure where he fits in. Isaac follows Erica, and him and Scott fall in together, pushing Stiles to the side.

It becomes a routine; pushing Stiles out of the way for someone better.

Junior year is rough. Stiles tries to include himself in a group he feels has no time for him anymore. He retreats into his music, quitting lacrosse and practicing his singing. His voice has a rough edge, like someone who's spent too much time yelling, but he kind of likes it. The roughness feels like him somehow. He grows out his hair, just to see if anyone will notice, but no one does until it's two inches long and sticking every which way. Lydia says, "Do you ever brush that hedgehog on your head?" 

Scott blinks at him wildly and asks when he stopped cutting his hair.

Weekly phonecalls with Mama McCall persevere (though he calls her Mama, now), and they even meet for coffee once or twice. She tells him it's just a phase, and that once Scott and Allison turn eighteen it'll be different, but Stiles shrugs and moves the topic along. She's the only person he talks music to besides his mother's grave, and he even tells her about the dreams, eventually. They're the only times he feels important anymore. Mama reveals she still has dreams about her soulmate, even when he's already gone to the grave. He wonders if that's why the bags under his father's eyes never quite go away.

When Mama hugs him, he cries, although neither of them mention it.

Scott and Allison become a couple as Junior year ends, and he's happy for them, even though he notices the death in Isaac's eyes. Stiles wonders if everyone notices what he does. The way Erica smiles whenever she brings out her phone, how whoever she's talking to must be important. The things Isaac does to capture Scott and Allison's attention; the confusion he sees so often in the blonde's eyes. How tense Jackson and Lydia have become, so close to Jackson's birthday in the fall and Lydia's in the first days of winter. Danny can't take his eyes off Jackson lately, either; he practically plays up his popularity to hide his jealousy. Stiles studies them like they're a book instead of his friends and he wonders, do they even know me?

He doubts they do. Stiles is like a non-entity to them, now. It isn't until the first days of senior year, the day his father has a heart attack, that they seem to notice he exists at all.

Stiles doesn't go to school for two weeks. His phone blows up, receiving first a few calls and then hoards, text messages he doesn't read, voicemails he can't listen to. He thinks people knock on his door sometimes, but Mama finds him at the hospital, and he doesn't want to see anyone else. Why should you care now? he thinks at them, as if they can hear if he screams it loud enough inside. One and a half weeks in they crowd around the hospital bed, saying we're sorry and talk to us and we love you.

There's a shouting match outside. Well, less of a shouting match and more of a Stiles' personal shouty time. But that's okay. Because for every word he screams about how alone he's felt, how they just don't even fucking talk to him, how they pretend he's invisible all the time, he gets a hug, a kiss on the cheek, an apology. They talk to him more than they have in years, telling him about how they never realized he was there until he left, about how no one laughed without him there to make the jokes. 

Everyone pitches in to help with his father's recovery. The Sheriff stops drinking, and slowly, slowly Stiles' relationships begin to mend. Scott reinstates Halo Sundays at the McCall home, and Mama is ecstatic. Allison proves to be extremely kind and guilty, which only makes him feel bad for yelling at her, even though she kind of deserved it, just the same as the rest of them. They become a triad of sorts, Isaac flitting in and out, which is fine with Stiles. Lydia realizes he's the only one around with half a brain, and they spend a lot of time sharing information and generally being awesome. He even hugs Jackson, once, when he's looking shitty, and Jackson returns the hug. Still teases him mercilessly, but Stiles knows it's empty, now. Danny puts up with him, which doesn't change much, but he does it with a fond smile, and Isaac stops glaring at him with jealousy enough to share an endearingly sweet personality. Erica still terrifies him, but they work on it.

The big shock comes on Danny's eighteenth.

They're all there for the naming, smiling and excited while his wrist glows. It's when the glow dims that everyone's voices die in utter confusion.

Jackson.

It's his handwriting, too, bland and neat and a little flamboyant. Danny laughs, almost hysterically, and Jackson's mouth hangs open. Lydia sighs like she's been expecting this and kisses her now-ex-boyfriend on the cheek before pushing him in Danny's direction.

A week later, on Jackson's birthday when he comes into school sporting a Daniel on his wrist and vines twisting through the name, the congratulations are many and over-zealous. The couple become inseparable, and Stiles is happy knowing Danny finally got what he always wanted. He's seen for a while that Lydia and Jackson were merely convenient for each other, but it's nice to be proven correct about things.

Allison's birthday naming is more of a formality than anything else. The only person attending that party is Scott, and when he comes back smiling and kissing his name on Allison's wrist, Stiles gives him a fist bump and rubs Isaac shoulder when no one's watching. Allison starts wearing a cuff on her other arm, marked with her family crest. It's unusual, but Stiles chalks it up to him noticing more than he should and doesn't mention it.

Erica pops up with the name Vernon, which surprises everyone until she mentions, all nonchalance, "I've been talking to Boyd for a year now, guys. It's old news." Boyd comes to their after-school hangouts now, and it isn't as weird as Stiles thought it'd be. He's quiet and reserved, but funny and sarcastic enough to earn Stiles' approval.

Lydia's birthday party is havoc. As soon as Laura scribbles onto her wrist in messy, girly font, she enlists both Stiles' and Danny's help in finding out just who she is. There's only one Laura in Beacon Hills, Laura Hale, and for a while they're just surprised. It's not like Laura isn't great, because she's gorgeous enough to tangle with Lydia and at the top of her class at NYLS. It's the age difference that trips them up. 7 years is a lot when you're in high school.

Of course, Lydia is absolutely thrilled. Laura is smart, obviously, and beautiful and established. She's everything Lydia's wanted her entire life. They bid her goodbye at the door the next day, and she makes her way to the Hale house with a look of such utter excitement that no one can be anything but happy.

The age difference, it turns out, is totally irrelevant. Laura is awesome. She's feisty and cunning, a perfect match for Lydia every step of the way. It seems like it should be awkward, at first, that she's an adult and they're all teenagers, but Laura knows how to have fun and anyone who doesn't like her will face the wrath of Lydia Martin. No one wants to jump headfirst down that path.

Laura also has a brother; Derek. Stiles registers this only because of an encounter he had near the Hale property towards the end of summer. He'd been doing his summer work way too late, collecting soil samples near the woods when he saw him. It wasn't for sure, nothing concrete, but something about the way he moved reminded him of forgotten dreams. Laura talks about him often and Stiles clings to her every word, falling in love with him all over again through what he hears.

Derek is, according to Lydia and Laura, shy and reserved with a knack for deadpan and dry humor. He's an artist, a sculptor, mostly, and he can't for the life of him manage not to coo at a baby. He's a total Lord Of The Rings nerd, and he gets Lydia into Game Of Thrones (taking Stiles job away, sadly), but he also comes across as grumpy and unavailable. Lydia tells him that Derek is prickly looking, but when you hug him you realize he's a teddy bear on the inside. Stiles is so shocked Lydia could think of anyone as cute and cuddly that he has absolutely zero answers to that. 

His dreams draw themselves out, now, moving on from the bedroom. Sometimes he's in snow, feeling warm kisses on his neck and gloved hands weaving through his. He dreams of late night dinners and failed recipes, of gentle kisses and absent fingers running through his hair. He's so distracted he almost fails to note Scott's cuff to match Allison's, worn during his birthday party. Almost, but not quite. A token of affection? He wants to worry about it, but with his birthday rapidly approaching, it skips his mind.

Stiles writes until his fingers feel like they might fall off. He writes for his intended, for his hope, for his mother, for his friends. He writes because it makes him feel important. Stiles never plays for anyone, but once, in his dreams, he plays a song for his soulmate on a warm spring evening. He writes twice about that.

Stiles has the second to last birthday, only Isaac beating him out. The whole group crowds into his house late that night, buzzing with excitement. They all can't wait to see just who has to put up with Stiles. He doesn't think that's funny.

He's the only one.

There's cake and music and laughter, but Stiles hardly remembers it. His whole world narrows down to that warm, glowing moment where the untidy scrawl of his soulmate tattoos itself onto his inner wrist. 

"What does it say?"

"Whoa, can you read that?"

It's difficult (handwriting, it needs work) but eventually Stiles gasps, "Derek." All his suspicions come crashing down around him. Lydia shrieks with sudden realization, clasping her hands over her mouth. Jackson looks mortally wounded, despite Danny's kisses; apparently, the thought that Stiles somehow managed to catch someone more attractive than him has actually broken something inside. Stiles would laugh if he himself wasn't almost the same level of shocked.

Of course, he's already entertained the idea. Who wouldn't? Derek hadn't found his intended yet, and everyone hoped they were his name. But Derek is... so attractive. And nerdy and wonderful and teddy-bear-like, apparently. Stiles just can't believe it's him. 

He hears Lydia getting them all out, feels his dad kiss his forehead before leaving for work, but all he can really think about is Derek. Will Lydia tell him right away or keep it secret until the morning? Should he be ready for Derek now? Oh, god, is this shirt even clean?

With slow-dawning abject horror he runs upstairs, changing into a plaid number out of his closet that smells like laundry soap and trying not to shake while he does the buttons. So Derek Hale is his soulmate. No big deal. It had to be someone, right? At least it's someone he knows (sort of), someone he can see himself with, even though he'll never understand why fate decided to pair him up with someone unfairly out of his league. It doesn't matter because Derek is Derek and Derek will love him. Duh.

The stairs creak as he runs down them, speeding up at the sound of knocking on the door. Jesus, that was fast. Or maybe Stiles is slow? His perception of time is really off at this point.

He skids to a halt just in front of the front door, attempting to pat down his hair even a small amount. It doesn't work. With a resigned sigh and a prayer that Derek isn't here to say he's rejecting the bond, he opens the door, mouth falling open at the sight. Derek Hale is on his doorstep, leather jacket and all, looking like something out of a porno and (oh god), looking at him like he's a fallen angel or something.

Holy shit.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but he never gets the chance because suddenly there's a warm mouth covering his. A shiver tingles down is spine and he squeaks, surprised, before kissing back in earnest, grabbing Derek's shirt and pulling him close enough to kick the door shut. Can't let in the cold, you know. 

He whimpers, just a little, a barely there noise he doubts Derek will notice as his hands move from his shirt to his hair, which is a little wind tousled and more than a little hot to pull on. Derek's hands move from his jaw to his hips and it's so good, he's breathless, this feels right and delicious oh god. Stiles pulls away, he has to, he can't breathe, but apparently he's like Derek-nip because he feels lips on his neck, soft breaths tickling his skin.

"Oh, my god," Stiles says quietly into the open silence. He can't quite believe this is real. Derek hums against his neck, which does delicious things to the rest of his body, and he makes a sound that should be embarrassing but isn't because it makes Derek smile. He pulls away and Stiles wants to whine at the loss of contact, but then he cups his cheek with a large hand, and the gesture is so totally familiar that Stiles leans into it, heaving a contented sigh. 

"You're Grzegorz."

Stiles laughs at that, he can't help it, because a) Derek pronounced it perfectly, a miracle even Stiles doesn't always manage, and b) his name. 

"All this time I spent trying to get rid of that name and you've had it on your wrist this whole time," he says without conviction. Then, suddenly, a horrible idea occurs to him. "Oh, god, that must've been a party. How many people laughed at it on your birthday?" He really doesn't want to know, but Derek considers it before replying, "All of them."

His laughter that time comes out a little hysterical.

"Oh, my god, it's you. This is like, the stuff of fantasies, man." To punctuate the statement, Stiles presses a tiny kiss to Derek's palm where it rests against his cheek. Just for that, Derek kisses him again, causing every nerve-ending he has to zing! and his whole brain to fly out the window. It's soft, and chaste, and full of the beginnings of love. It's perfect. 

"This is way better than any of mine," Derek whispers, and Stiles privately agrees. Having him in the flesh is so much better than flashes in dreams. 

He means to say that, honestly, but what comes out is more of a confession that he's been half-stalking Derek since summer.

Derek seems surprised, so Stiles babbles, telling him what he hasn't told anyone since that day. It felt too sacred, somehow; like if he told anyone he'd break the hope of it being true. By the end he's laughing, just a little, and Derek looks wide-eyed and shaky. 

"Sorry I kiss attacked you," he murmurs with his forehead pressed to Stiles'. "I wanted to make a good impression, but once I had you in front of me, Jesus."

Stiles is okay with it. He's like, ten times beyond okay with it. "It was a good impression. Very good. You should definitely do that instead of saying hi or anything." He frowns, suddenly, because Derek says hi to other people besides him. And that's a no-no. "Except, just with me. That needs to be a you-and-me thing." Satisfied that clarifications were made, he revels in the fact that Derek Hale actually finds him irresistable. 

Of course, then he's distracted, because Derek is making a bond offering. His hands shake but he accepts, lacing their fingers together as Derek whispers "Always you, Stiles" just before their lips touch. Stiles can get behind that. Totally, he can. He feels warm and content and perfect in Derek's arms, and being anywhere else would be absolutely offensive.

He does feel a little bad that his room isn't clean, but he doesn't think Derek notices considering he's pretty much just trying to get Stiles to the first flat surface he can find.

Stiles doesn't mind that part, either.

EPILOGUE

"Derek, we are not naming our child Eowyn." 

Derek pouts convincingly, curled up on the bed and nuzzling Stiles' neck while they stare at their unborn baby's ultrasound. It's a girl, they know that now. Laura groaned the whole way through the appointment, whining about how her brother put her through cruel and unusual punishment, but that's just a normal doctor's visit. She'd taken the job easy enough, anyway; why she decids to complain when she's already way too far along to back out, neither of them really understand.

"Eowyn is a strong, independent female warrior, and she'd be a great namesake for our daughter." Stiles doesn't want to laugh, because it isn't funny so much as it's just adorable. This is definitely one of the many reasons he loves Derek. The secret nerdiness.

"She'll be teased mercilessly in school. How do you even nickname Eowyn anyway?" Derek tries to think, then pouts even harder when he can't come up with anything before perking up in excitement. "Wyn!" He smiles like he's won something.

Stiles laughs at him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He entertains the idea a moment, just to humor his husband, before another idea pops into his mind. Softly, almost a whisper, Stiles says, "We could name her Gwendolyn."

Almost immediately, Derek's arms are wrapped around his waist, kissing his neck softly. "After your mother?"

Stiles nods, feeling too exposed in his skin. Derek knows more about his mother and how he feels about her than anyone, and it's a strange feeling, knowing someone actually sees him. Someone understands. Kisses pepper his neck and shoulder until he can speak again. "I - it'd be good, right?"

Derek nods into his skin, turning his head to kiss him tenderly. "Gwendolyn."

3 months later, when Gwendolyn has valiantly fought her way into the world and Derek is cooing at her with Stiles sitting beside him, they write her middle name as "Eowyn" and decide to raise her on a healthy diet of Tolkien and J.K. Rowling.