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Stiles really, really hated his life, if he was being honest. Not only was it his eighteenth birthday today, and not a single person bat an eye at him. His dad, on top of that, was missing, because of Derek’s psychotic mass murdering girlfriend, the second one that he’s gotten with. God, and on top of that , Scott had fucked off with the geriatric wolf, claiming that this was what was best. That he needed to do this. Stiles really couldn’t fucking believe this. And now, here, he had found Jennifer missing, not knowing where she fucked off to, but that she left behind Derek, lying limp on the elevator floor.
Stiles got down to face level with Derek, his hands hovering, unsure of where to reach, where to touch. How the fuck was he supposed to wake the werewolf up? He could–he could smack him again? That might work? He smacked Derek once, with every bit of his might, realizing that that wouldn’t work, not right now.
“Derek, c’mon!” Stiles shook Derek’s body gently, the man below him still not moving.
He sent up a silent prayer to whatever higher up existed that Derek wouldn’t kill him for this, before he laid one smack, then two, then three across Derek’s cheek. Derek still didn’t move, if anything, it seemed he fell deeper, and deeper, into the sleep that he was in. He sat back for a second, before his hand closed into the shape of a fist, breathing in deeply.
“Please don’t kill me.” He whispered, before he went to punch Derek across the jaw.
Of course, of fucking course, that was the moment that Derek decided to wake, his fingers wrapping around Stiles’s wrist, his grip tight. Derek’s wide eyes stared up into Stiles’ own, before Stiles collapsed against Derek’s chest, shaking his head quickly, groaning.
“This is the worst eighteenth birthday in the history of eighteenth birthdays, just so you’re aware.” Stiles’ voice was muffled where his face was pressed in Derek’s chest, not giving Derek a second to understand anything being said to him.
Stiles sat up then, pulling Derek up with him, before he dove into everything Derek had missed. “Cora is safe with Isaac, I promise. I made sure. But, Scott–Scott went with that narcissistic, creepy, geriatric asshole. So–So, come on, we gotta get going.” Stiles helped Derek stand, balancing his body out when he wobbled on his legs, before he helped Derek walk out of the elevator with him.
“Stiles–”
“The cops are on their way here, so-so, let me deal with them, okay? You go get stuff figured out with Cora, and–” Derek cut him off by cupping Stiles’ cheeks with his calloused hands, green eyes darting between amber. Stiles’ voice was lost as he stared at Derek, blinking slowly at the man in front of him.
“Thank you.” Derek’s voice was a bit rough, and it was only uttered in the space shared between them, but Stiles heard him loud and clear.
“Yeah… yeah, anytime.”
Something shifted in the air, and Stiles felt himself wanting to chase the feeling, even though he knew they didn’t have time, even though he knew that he wouldn’t be able to bask in it like he had hoped. But–But this was Derek. Derek, who was the reason Stiles knew he was bisexual. Derek, who despite having a rocky start with, had grown to trust Stiles, to value his time and input. Derek, who was now staring down at Stiles like Stiles held all the answers to the universe.
Derek, who pressed his lips against Stiles’ forehead, before he turned, jogging his way out of the hospital.
**
“You’re not my son.” The Sheriff grit through his teeth, Void breaking the handcuffs off of his wrists.
Derek filed in with Argent, with Allison, but Void’s eyes found Derek’s first, his brow raising slightly. Derek swallowed past the lump in his throat, the image of his name on the piece of the King seared in the back of his eyelids.
“He’s been wondering about you, you know.” Void’s eyes were blank, cold and dead.
“Shut up.” Derek hated how his voice wavered, he hated that Void smiled wickedly at him.
“Would you like to talk to him? He’s been begging to crawl out of here for days now.” Derek froze where he stood, unsure of whether or not this was a joke or not. “Clocks ticking, Derek. Yes, or no?”
Derek felt rooted to the spot, his throat closing up without his permission, his eyes flickering between Void’s, before his gaze was torn away at the sound of electricity crackling behind him.
This wasn’t Stiles. This hadn’t been Stiles for a long time.
This wasn’t his Stiles.
**
“I’ve heard of an alpha pack, Derek. But a pack of former alpha’s? That’s just a bit pathetic, don’t you think?”
Derek bristled a little, as Void continuously used Stiles’ body. His voice. His mind. Derek knew deep down that Stiles was trying to fight, that now that he and Stiles had split, this was purely Void. No Stiles for him to try and pry information out of.
He pointed a clawed finger at Void’s body, pulling his lip back into a sneer, tilting his head. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Void smirked at him, shaking his head a little, before he stood, making the Oni take a step back. “Good luck with that, Derek.”
It was nothing but claws, fangs, swords, and snarls after that. Derek couldn’t think too much about what was happening, of whether or not Stiles was safe. He was ashamed that he wasn’t there when Stiles and Void had split, was even more ashamed that he was asked for, and wasn’t able to come and be there for Stiles.
He had heard Lydia scream out for Allison, but he couldn’t remember when that had happened. He truly couldn’t. All he knew was that he could feel the grief, the guilt, rolling through the air in waves. He knew who they came from.
He knew.
**
Derek was bloody, dirty, and quite frankly nothing like the GQ model Stiles liked to tease him about, saying that’s what he looked like. But none of that mattered, not anymore. What mattered to him most right now was getting to Stiles, was getting to pull the man into his arms, and holding him so close that no one else could reach him. Not a single damn soul.
He saw Stiles wobble his way up, gripping onto Scott and Lydia like his life depended on it–he figured that it must’ve, after what he had been put through, before his eyes snapped up to Derek’s, a smile so wide splitting his cracked lip open.
Derek didn’t care, not anymore. He didn’t care if the kiss tasted like blood, nor did he care that the two of them were nothing but sweat, dirt, blood and tears. He took the last three steps forward to reach Stiles, pulling him out of Scott and Lydia’s grip, before he crashed their lips together, pouring every bit of emotion into it as he could.
Stiles did taste like blood, but underneath it all, he tasted like cinnamon, and vanilla, and a hint of amber–just like the color of his eyes. He knew his fingers were probably going to leave a bruise where they had pressed so harshly into the pale skin, but Derek didn’t care. He didn’t care, because Stiles was gripping him with all his might, was holding onto Derek so tightly that he was sure to be leaving bruises on Derek’s skin as well, the two of them pulling away when the need for air became stronger than the need for the contact.
“Of course you kiss me after a near death experience.” Stiles joked, smiling softly at Derek, but the joke clearly fell flat.
Derek took it upon himself to loosen his grip from around Stiles’ waist, before he leaned back in, pressing his lips to Stiles’ more gently, shaking his head a little when Stiles laughed softly against his lips, pulling away from him completely.
“You smell.” Stiles wrinkled his nose a little, and Derek regarded him with a flat look, but smiled nonetheless, squeezing Stiles’ hip.
“Same could be said for you.”
**
Things weren’t easy after the events of the Nogitsune, and they definitely weren’t easy when Derek was taken, again, by Kate.
Like seriously, Stiles knew his boyfriend–god, boyfriend –was all that and more, but wasn’t she dead? Wasn’t she supposed to be buried six feet under? He grumbled about it even as he tried to fix parts of the jeep under the hood, his eyes snapping over to Malia as she let out a snarl, his heart plummeting into his fucking ass, thank you very much.
Sure, he had been possessed by an evil fox spirit, and sure, he had his mind stripped away, layer by layer, but being out here, in Mexico, with just Malia and Kira, as well as Lydia, it made him nervous. Not that the ladies weren’t badass, god knows they could take care of themselves, and he knew if he thought otherwise, Erica would come back from the dead and haunt him. But, they didn’t know what was out here. They didn’t know what they were up against.
Which brought him back to his original point, of his boyfriend being taken by his first psychotic mass murdering ex-girlfriend. Seriously, all he wanted to do was sleep in Derek’s bed for the next week before they had to go back to the supernatural bullshit. But alas, here they were, in the middle of Mexico, trying to save the day. Again.
“Stiles would you hurry. Up.” Lydia’s tone left no room for argument, but he did send her a withering glare, before he wrapped one more long strip of duct tape around one of the parts of the car, deeming it fine to start moving.
What greeted him outside of the temple they had driven to was his boyfriend, only, de-aged back to his sixteen year old self.
Seriously, what was his life?
**
“I don’t trust you, I trust Scott.” Young Derek snarled at him, and Stiles just regarded him with a glance, before he went back to his phone.
Young Derek was more of an asshole than Present Derek, and that was saying something. Sure, it had always been endearing, but right now it was pissing Stiles off, causing his jaw to clench. Derek kept going on, and on, and on about how Stiles was just not valuable, that he didn’t seem like he could do much. It had hurt, truly. But he knew this wasn’t his Derek. That the Derek in front of him didn’t know him like his Derek did.
But, it still hurt nonetheless.
It all came to a head when Derek slammed him against the door, snarling in Stiles’ ear about one thing or another, and Stiles used what strength he had to push Derek off, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again.” Derek blinked at him, stunned that Stiles was sticking up for himself. “Don’t.”
**
Things had been a bit strained after that, when Derek had evolved back into present day him. It was odd, to see the change in how Derek spoke to him, at how Derek treated him. Young Derek was all push and shove, while Present Derek was more caring, and gentle with his touches. At least with him they were.
“Stiles?” Stiles hummed from where he sat at his desk, tapping the edge of his pen against his chin, brows furrowing as the words started to mold together. “Did I do something wrong?”
That caused Stiles to turn his head, raising a confused brow in the direction of where Derek was sitting against his pillows, his hands resting neatly in his lap. He turned fully towards his boyfriend, shaking his head a little.
“No, why?” Derek frowned, but he shook his head a little, looking down.
“It’s just… I don’t–I don’t know what younger me did, but I can tell it wasn’t pleasant.” Stiles hummed a little, before he rolled his shoulders back, sucking on his cheek. “What did I do, Stiles?”
“You–younger you,” Stiles corrected, “told me that I was of no value, that I wasn’t… I didn’t seem like I could do much. And I know that wasn’t really you, not at all. You don’t think that of me, I know that. But to have someone, the person you lo– like , put all your insecurities out in front of you like that, it hurts. It hurt, Derek, and I just… I just wasn’t sure how to process it in my mind.”
Derek was silent for a few moments, before he slithered down the bed slowly, opening up his arm for Stiles. “Come here.”
Stiles didn’t need to be told twice, his feet carrying him over to where Derek was lying, pressing himself close in his arms, allowing Derek to manhandle them until they were basically spooning. Stiles was the little spoon, of course.
“I would never think that of you, Stiles. And I never have. You’ve always been stronger than any one of us, and you’ve always been the most valuable person to me, even when we hated each other's guts.” Stiles smiled a little, snuggling further back into Derek, before he hummed.
“Love you too, big guy.”
**
Derek choked a little on the stench of whatever was coming through the school, his wolf wanting to claw its way out of his chest, at the thought that Stiles, Scott, Malia and Kira were in there. They were trapped, and there was nothing Derek could do, not if he himself wanted to be infected by whatever it was.
So he stood, and waited, and he paced. Sheriff Stilinski gave him a subtle nod, and Derek nodded right back, before his eyes darted to where the school doors had opened. Stiles and Scott were clinging onto one another, while Kira was wobbling slightly with Malia.
“Stiles!” Sheriff Stilinski called out, but Stiles’ eyes were unfocused, glassy. They were darting around the courtyard, before they met Derek’s.
Derek’s feet carried him over before he knew what was really happening, but this is how it always was with Stiles. Like they were magnets to one another.
Derek wrapped Stiles up tight in his arms, one hand coming around the back of Stiles’ head, lightly gripping the strands of hair, before he dropped it in favor of wrapping Stiles up completely.
“Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” Derek whispered, and Stiles nodded, finally sagging against Derek’s body, shakily exhaling.
“I promise.”
**
That became their thing, “I promise”. It was a way to say those three words without actually saying them outloud. It was their way to communicate the love, the care, and everything in between that they felt for one another.
It was theirs, and theirs only.
**
“Der–” Derek cut Stiles off with a cough, blood splattering down his chin, into his beard. “Derek, c’mon… you gotta start healing…” Stiles’ hands hovered over his body, before he rested them against Derek’s chest, gripping the fabric of the shirt there.
“You need–” Another cough, this one more violent. “You need to go save Scott.”
“I’m not leaving you!” Stiles was stubborn, Derek had always known that, but he wasn’t about to let Stiles give up the chance to save his brother over him. “I’m not–”
“You need to go, Stiles. I’ll be–” He shivered a little, as the blood continued to trickle down his abs, pooling around the waistband of his jeans. “I’ll be right here when you come back, okay?”
Stiles shook his head frantically, tears beginning to brim along his lash line, and it broke Derek’s heart to see him like this. Derek shakily reached up to cup Stiles’ cheek in one hand, smiling as much as he could through the pain.
“I love you, so fucking much, Stiles. Don’t you ever forget that. Okay?”
Stiles laughed through the tears, through the thick emotion of sadness, through the wave of grief that he knew was soon to hit him.
“I promise.”
Derek gently pushed Stiles back, watching as the man stumbled every few steps, his head swiveling back to keep his eye on Derek, even as Braden was tending to his stab wound. Derek watched as Stiles entered the temple, and he let himself feel the pain, fully, of the wound. His stomach clenched uncomfortably, his hand pressing down on it, pulling a pained groan out of his throat.
He couldn’t believe he was dying.
**
“You fucking asshole!” Stiles yelled at him while jogging down the stairs of the temple, taking three long strides before he pushed at Derek’s chest.
Derek let him, wanting Stiles to let out whatever he was feeling, wanting Stiles to yell and scream at him. For him to get in Derek’s face. He knew he deserved it, after sending him away with an ‘I love you’, before he had evolved. But Stiles, he thought Derek died, so Derek knew he deserved this.
“Stiles–”
He was cut off by the harsh press of lips against his, fingers twisted in the fabric of his henley, and his back pressed against the SUV. He matched Stiles’ fervor, gripping at the man’s hips with his own bruising grip, whining slightly when Stiles pulled his lips away from Derek’s, his chest heaving with emotion.
“I fucking love you too, asshole.” Stiles kissed him again, before pulling back, out of Derek’s reach, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you ever do that again, do you hear me? Promise me, Derek Samuel Hale. Promise me.”
It brought a smile to Derek’s face, before he was nodding, reaching out to take Stiles’ hand in his own, lacing their fingers together.
“I promise.”
end