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Derek stared at the reporter on the campus lounge’s television screen, gleefully reporting on Ignition’s latest fight. Behind her floated a photograph of him mid-battle, zoomed in on where his bodysuit had been slashed open across his left shoulder blade. It was a little blurry, a little pixelated, but more than clear enough to get a good look at the black mark on the bare skin there.
“Oh shit,” came Erica’s delighted voice as she dropped down onto the couch beside Derek. “Let the circus begin!”
Derek’s his heart dropped; circus was right. He resisted the impulse to reach for the spot on his own shoulder blade that itched and burned. It wouldn’t do him any good. He could make all the calls, send in all the verifiably undoctored photos of identical marks, make all the noise and fuss he wanted. With the buzz and the confusion, it wouldn’t matter. No one would believe him.
True match-ups never made it through a circus like this.
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In which Derek discovers his soulmate is a superhero too far out of his reach to ever actually be with. But it doesn't feel right to flirt back at Stiles now either, no matter how much Derek wants to. Amazing or not, he's not Derek's soulmate.
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