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The Magic Teapot

Chapter Text


"Be very careful. Many of the items in this warehouse are very old and very powerful.." Peter said to the group. He had his hands in the pockets of his pressed slacks, and his leather jacket zipped up tight. It was really cold for August. The werewolves were standing still, while the humans in the group shivered and walked in place, trying in vain to fight off the cold fingers of premature winter.

"And very unstable. STILES--" Derek snapped as he saw Stiles not paying attention, and annoyingly pulling his zipper up and down.

"What? I'm listening. Why am I being singled out?" Derek rolled his eyes, and Peter continued.

"We are looking for a necklace. It's got a red gem, wrapped with gold wire and a scrolled metal frame. We need this necklace to help us against the coven. We were lucky that they didn't hurt any of us permanently the last time they attacked us. We need to do this as fast as possible before the guards come back for their hourly check."

"Erica, Boyd, and Lydia, check the basement. Allison, Scott and Jackson, check the main floor. Peter, Stiles, and I will check the top floor. Let's meet back here in thirty." Derek commanded, and everyone shuffled off to search the building.

Derek and Peter practically leaped up the stairs, as Stiles trailed behind. In the top floor, it was much less organized than the rows of shelves of boxes that were contained on the main floor. It seems whoever was putting artifacts up here got tired halfway through and just chucked boxes in hazardous piles. Derek and Peter started at the right side of the room, and started pulling boxes apart. They started a neat pile of stacked items. Careful not to jar anything too much in case some of the magical items still had juice in them.

Stiles, however, didn't work so neatly. He picked a random area, and pawed through a box. When he found an interesting item, even if it wasn't the fancy gem necklace, he would turn it over and over in his hand, trying to figure it out. He chewed on his lip as he skimmed old books with ripped spines and yellow pages. He was entralled at all the knowledge he could use. He had began last summer, learning as much of magic that Deaton would teach him.

Derek and Peter had made it halfway though the room, when Derek caught Stiles leaning over a pile of boxes, trying to reach something shiny in the mess.

"Stiles, focus!" Derek said, at the same moment, Stiles lost his balance and fell into the pile. Sparks flew from something under his leg, and dust flew like an atomic cloud of smoke into the room.

"My bad." Stiles replied, rubbing an elbow which was scraped. He stopped suddenly. "Oh hey, look!" He pulled a gold chain and the red gem necklace dangled from his fingers. Derek took it and handed it to Peter.

"Good job, this is exactly what we needed. Let's get out of here." Derek put out a hand to pull Stiles up, and he was about to take it when he saw the shiny spot he had been reaching for. He moved his hand, and touched it, then pulled out a polished brass teapot with a chipped top. It fit in his palm, and he ran his fingers along the edge, to an engraving. A smear of red soaked into the grooves, and that's when Stiles realized he had touched his elbow with that hand and got his blood on it.

"I told you not to mess with stuff!" Derek yanked the teapot from Stiles' hand and wiped the blood off with the edge of his black t-shirt.

A flash of light rang out and they closed their eyes. Peter and Derek heard Stiles curse when he opened his eyes, and they followed suit. Then their jaws dropped slightly as they looked at Stiles. He was standing now, but his clothes had disappeared and been replaced. In lieu of his ratty jeans, he wore a billowly pair of dark blue pants. His Batman t-shirt was replaced by a very sheer blue shirt that showed his chest underneath. And two gold bands circled his wrists.

"Stiles, why are you dressed like that? How did you do it so fast?" Derek mumbled, unsure if this was a prank or not.

"Uh," Stiles pulled slightly at the shirt, wondering the same thing himself.

"I wish we could just go home without something weird happening." Derek groaned.

"Yes, Master." Stiles said, making a face because he couldn't stop it. He made a quick nod, and suddenly, Derek was standing on his porch, Stiles beside him, and the rest of the pack no where to be seen.

They both looked at the railing of the porch, without saying anything, and found the small polished brass teapot sitting there, almost mockingly.


Chapter Text

"You never pay attention. You always get yourself into these situations, Stiles. Why can't you listen to me for once?" Derek yells. The floorboards creak slightly with his weight, and Stiles is just sitting on one of the rails, watching him pace back and forth. The flowerpots that Cora placed on the porch are shaking with each one of Derek's stomps.

"How was I supposed to know a stupid teapot would give me magical servant powers? Do you really think I wanna do your bidding, Sourwolf?" When he stops, Derek doesn't say anything. Stiles can tell he's thinking hard about how to solve this, like he tries, and mostly fails with all the pack's problems. Derek's fingers run the bottom zipper of this jacket back and forth in his hand like a worry stone. He keeps pacing, and as he goes, Stiles starts to get uneasy. He doesn't know the limitations of what is going on. What if Derek says something that could hurt other people, and Stiles is hopeless to stop it. He would never do it on purpose, but Stiles has no control over what he is doing. He just feels the magic welled up inside of him, trying to get out and cause havoc. Stiles looks at Derek, silently fuming and panicking at the same time. "Just stop it, you are making me sick from moving around so much." Stiles leaned his head back against the upper rail, and blew out a breath.

Derek is so stressed that he does stop, then walks over to where Stiles is sitting, and promptly pushes him off the rail and into the bushes.

"Way to be a dick, Derek." Stiles complained, after he flails, angrily, trying to get out of the bushes that are currently pulling him under. He gets out, but surprising, his billowy clothes aren't ripped. Stiles isn't cold, even though it's under forty degrees outside right now. He tries to take the gold circlets off his wrists with no success. He sighs and looks at Derek. "You are a top-notch Alpha, let tell you."

"Shut up, Stiles." Stiles immediately closes his mouth, but opens them again, and when he tries to say a word, any word, he is met with silence. He tries to yell, and nothing works. He eventually just crosses his arms, red faced with anger. Derek watches him, worry and fear on his face.

"I didn't say I wish." Derek rubs the stubble at his jaw. Then his face relaxes, and he smiles. "Let's get something to eat." Stiles pointedly pulls his shoulders back, as if he were saying what about me? Derek knows the look but is too tired for any of his normal jabber to come with it. Stiles realizes Derek isn't going to take it back at the moment, and he stomps inside, pass Derek, and taking enough time to knock everything off the entry table in protest.

Derek laughs, not a large one but enough that Stiles wonders if he had ever heard it before. Derek presses some buttons on his phone.

"Peter, hey -- yeah, we are at the house. Somehow, the teapot gave Stiles genie magic, apparently. We need to figure out this soon. Okay. Bye." Derek hung up, and looked over, where Stiles was hunched over the dining room table, having already pulled food from the fridge and made a sandwich. He made only one just to spite Derek, and put everything back in the fridge. He is sitting with his arms like a cage around the plate, and glaring at Derek.

"I want a sandwich." Stiles flails a bit, and slides the plate over. Derek grins, and Stiles gets up and finds a piece of paper in one of the drawers. He scribbles on it in black sharpie and turns it to Derek.


Derek just shrugged, and sticks his tongue out at Stiles. Stiles sits back down, puts an elbow on the table and leans into his hand, unhappily. They sit there for a few minutes, with just the sound of Derek chewing, when Derek sighs, and tears off half of the sandwich. He hands it to Stiles.

"You can talk, Stiles. I'm sorry. It's actually kind of nice to sit here without you talking a million miles a minute. I won't silence you again, I promise." Stiles pauses, even though he had so much yelling he wanted to do, but stops himself. He doesn't say anything as he takes the half of the sandwich. Stiles and Derek sat there, quietly, and surprisingly comfortable, and only got up when they heard the car pull up with the rest of the pack.

Chapter Text

The black SUV pulled up in the driveway, and came to a stop. Doors open and the Pack shifted out into the yard, minus Lydia and Jackson, who were dropped off before leaving town. Derek and Stiles came out onto the porch to greet them. Scott was the first one out of the the passenger door, as Allison stopped the SUV. He bee lined for the porch, and stopped in front of Stiles. He reached out and tugged sightly on the shiny blue material.

"Wow. Derek wasn't kidding." Scott exclaimed.

"Paws off!" Stiles yanked his shirt back, and plopping onto the porch swing. "Let's figure out how to get me back to quasi-normal, okay?" Stiles crossed his arms.

"Stiles is right. I accidentally took his voice away from him earlier without even saying I wish. I don't know what the rules are for genies, and this could end up very bad." Derek explained. Scott and Allison moved to the porch swing, sitting beside Stiles, and Peter crossed the porch to lean at the door, next to Derek.

"I like his new outfit.. It shows off those hidden pecs." Erica growled a little while walking over to playfully squeeze Stiles' chest. Stiles swatted her away with a hand. Amused, she ran a nail across the edge of his jaw, and then she hopped up to side on the railing of the porch. Boyd just shook his head at his girlfriend and walked into the house.

"So any ideas on how to get out of I Dream of Stiles territory?" Peter asked.

"We could ask my dad.. maybe he has ran across genies before." Allison offered. "Though, honestly, I've sneaked peeks at most of the Beastiary and haven't run across any mention of them. Maybe they are really rare."

"Maybe we should ask Deaton first. Isaac is covering my shift for me, and it should be over soon. I can call and get them down here to see if he knows." Scott interjected, and Allison shrugged. Derek nodded at the idea, and Scott pulled out his phone to call. An hour later, Stiles is laying on his back on the couch, his head laying off one end, and his leg hitting the arm. Erica and Boyd have gone out, and Allison has gone home to check the Bestiary again. Scott is in the kitchen, making something to eat, while Derek sits in the living room. The sound of Stiles' foot kicking the arm and the hitch of his breath are the only sound in the room, and Derek has his eyes shut. Stiles knows he can't be napping. Stiles sighs, and kicks a little harder.

"Stiles. Stop. Kicking." Derek says, with his eyes still closed. Stiles abpurtly stops. He sighs louder. Derek opens his eyes, and Stiles hears a car door slam shut. He pops up, and opens the door, as Deaton and Isaac come up to it.

"Stiles, wow." Isaac says, eyeing the outfit he is wearing.

"I know, I know. I tried changing, and somehow it just changes back." Stiles replies, grumpily.

"If any of the theories I've heard of are true, then Derek could wish you to wear what you want, but you would change back every time you go back into the teapot." Deaton offers, helpfully. The pair step into the house, and sit at the table, where Derek and Scott are already sitting. Stiles shuts the door.

"Back into the.. teapot? Really? I am still human, I can't fit in there." Stiles scoffs.

"You probably turn to smoke, like in all the movies." Isaac quiped. Stiles looked thoughtful, and then turned to the teapot on the table.

"Well, there is only one way to find out." He focuses on the teapot, but after a minute, Scott and Derek look at each other.

"Stiles, go into the teapot." Derek urged. Stiles felt a weird pulling sensation in his gut, and felt light headed. He looked down at his hands, and felt like he was high, as his whole body converted into smoke and he felt himself slip into the teapot. In place of the empty, cold interior he had spotted when he first found the teapot, there was light. The teapot was a rounded room for him, with thick wooden furntiture and dark blue material as the walls, and bed coverings. Stiles could only let out a silent Wow, before he felt the pull again, and materialized outside of the teapot again. He rubbed his head, and looked at the others at the table.

"That was awesome." He chattered, right before puking on the floor. The others groaned.


After the mess was cleaned up, and Stiles sitting in a chair, with a surprisingly clean outfit, Derek looked at Deaton.

"How do we turn him back?" Derek asked.

"Honestly," Deaton began, a slight frown on his face. "I have no idea. Genies are incredibly rare, especially on this continent. Everything I know about them is from records thousands of years old." Stiles worried at a knot in the table, and Scott patted him on the back.

"So tell me what you do know." Stiles said.

"Well, they are usually born, though some are cursed, like in your case. They are eternal, but can still die. They can't be hurt by human weapons, but I'm not sure what they are susceptible to. Mostly likely magic." Deaton answered.

"I could live forever?" Stiles pondered, out loud.

"But you're a slave to the teapot. You do what I say." Derek countered, then paused. "Can that be broken?"

"Only by your death. But he would stay a genie.. his next Master would be whoever touches his teapot afterwards."

"Well, that's out, then." Stiles muttered.

"What about Aladdin?" Isaac suggested. "Derek can't wish him out?" Deaton shook his head.

"Aladdin got three wishes, too." Scott offered. Derek shook his head.

"I already used them, so..." He turned to Stiles. "Touch your nose." Stiles glared but his hand shot up anyway. "So that is out."

"There's no limit on wishes, but I know that genies can't raise the dead, they can't destroy worlds, or laws of the universe. They can't kill another living creature directly."

"Directly?" Stiles asked, before resuming his glare of death at Derek, his finger still on the tip of his nose. "Mind helping me out, Buddy?" Derek ignored him, while Scott and Isaac giggled from the end of the table. Derek finally relented, and told Stiles he could stop touching his nose.

"He can't wish for you to kill someone but he can wish for an army or a powerful weapon to kill someone himself." Deaton answered. "And that's all I know about genies. I'm sorry it's not more helpful." After thanks and goodbyes, Deaton left, and Isaac went on to bed.

"Let's go back over this tomorrow." Derek stated and the other two agreed. Scott and Stiles began to walk to Stiles' Jeep to go home, when Stiles hit an invisible wall just off the porch.

"What the crap now?" Stiles moaned, as he flexed his arms, trying to get through. Scott walked around him, trying to figure it out. "I don't think you can be away from Derek and the teapot, maybe." Scott wondered. Derek came off the porch. As soon as he came closer to Stiles, who was trying to push his way with his shoulder through the invisible barrier, he suddenly fell forward. Derek stopped and Stiles got up, walked a few more feet and hit the barrier again.

"Seriously, fifteen feet, dude, that's what I get?" Stiles complained. Scott shrugged.

"I'm going to take your Jeep home. I'll call your dad and let him know you are staying here. Sorry, Stiles." Scott apologized to him, climbed in the Jeep and took off down the driveway. Stiles was still until he couldn't see the headlights, then stomped angrily in the dirt.

"Are you finished having a hissy fit, because I want to go to bed." Derek said, and Stiles groaned, as he felt the magic well up. Derek and Stiles were then in Derek's bed, under the covers, and they turned their heads to look at each other. Stiles shrugged and half-frowned. Derek sighed.

"Let's just go to bed. Stay on your side." Derek turned over, facing the rest of the room. Stiles turned to the wall.

Stupid fucking teapot.

Chapter Text

Stiles woke up slowly, and it gradually came to him that he was not in his own bed, in his own house. Mostly, this would be because he was laying on his side, his face very close to the wall, whereas at home, he would be sprawled out on his stomach as if he needed to hold the bed down from floating away into the sunset. Though, it could also be the certain werewolf currently pressed against his back, the big spoon to his apparent little spoon. Derek's face was in Stiles' neck, his hot breath against it every time his chest rose against Stiles' back. The genie shirt Stiles was still wearing did nothing to protect him from the heat radiating off Derek's body. That body was pressed against Stiles at every available inch, with an arm wrapped over and his hand under Stiles' stomach.

Stiles didn't know what to do.

On one hand, Derek could rip his throat out with his teeth, and that was a strong possibility. He was already pissed at this situation leaving Stiles in his bed, if he woke up to this, he would wolf out. Stiles felt sure of it, but still didn't move. On the other hand, the feeling of Derek's chest rising and falling against his back, and the slight twitch of his fingers against the soft flesh of his stomach, well, how could Stiles resist that?

Then Stiles realized his arm was numb from laying on it, and cursed it, as he slowly felt the pins and needles of it aching to be released. Stiles tried to move his arm as slightly as possible, and wiggled his fingers. He felt Derek mumble into his neck, and froze. Derek continued and rubbed the stubble of his jaw against the now pink flesh of Stiles' neck. He laid as still as possible but knew that Derek must hear his heart speeding up. He felt it the moment Derek woke up, and realized who he was cuddling. Derek stiffened, and suddenly his arm was gone. Derek got up and wordlessly padded over to the bathroom. The door slammed behind him. Stiles let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding.

Well, I guess it's a good thing he didn't wolf out. Stiles tried to get up. But of course, he had to stay on his side of the bed. He pushed his face into the pillow and let out an angry groan. He turned his head at a rumble of the shower pipes and the jetting water sound coming from the bathroom. He sighed. Should he yell out for Derek, or just lay here until he comes back out? Stiles knew Derek would already be pissed, so he just decided to give in, and cuddle up with his pillow to try to sleep for a few more minutes. Maybe Derek would let him eat breakfast first before he rips his throat out.

Stiles dozed off, and didn't hear the shower click off. When Derek came out, he was wearing only a soft fluffy white towel. Stiles' eyes fluttered open slightly at the sound of Derek opening the drawers of his dresser. He saw Derek leaned over the drawer, looking for clothes, and Stiles couldn't help but watch the outline of Derek's ass and the muscles in his back moving as he searched. Derek stood back straight with a black Henley and black boxers. He turned and looked at Stiles, before turning back to the bathroom.

"Ugh! Hey, Sourwolf, wanna let me up?" Stiles complained, not caring anymore if Derek ripped his throat out because he was getting antsy being in bed so long. Derek turned and gave him a smirk before shutting the door behind him. "Really, dude? How mature." Stiles started kicking the wall with his foot, and closed his eyes. Once he figured out how to turn back to normal Stiles, he was going to blackmail Erica into giving Derek laxative brownies or something.

Stiles yelled as his foot was grabbed, and he felt the tips of Derek's claws pressed into the soft flesh of his ankle.

"Stiles, you can get up. But don't piss me off today or I will send you to the teapot, okay?" Derek spat into Stiles' face. Stiles nodded quickly, and Derek let go off his ankle. He stalked out of the room, and Stiles rubbed his ankle, silently. He got up and followed down the stairs. Derek was clanging pots and pans in the kitchen, and so Stiles just sat down at the table. There was silent as Derek cracked eggs into the pan.

"I'm sorry this is happening, Derek. I shouldn't have touched the teapot." Stiles began to rush an apology.

"Stiles, it's fine. I shouldn't overreact, but ----" Derek stopped, an egg falling from his hand to the floor. Stiles perked up.

"What is it?" Stiles got out right before the kitchen window shattered. Both Derek and Stiles threw themselves to the ground, as every other window in the house shattered along with it. When the glass stopped breaking, Stiles lifted his head slightly, and felt his cheek. He pulled a small, long, jagged piece of glass from his cheek, and felt the warm blood trickling from it. A squeeze on his hand brought him back to looking at Derek.

"Text the pack. I'll protect you." Stiles nodded and his fingers flew over the keyboard, and just as he hit send, the phone was jerking into thin air, smashing against the fridge. He looked over to see Derek wolfed out and growling at the cackling that was steadlity getting louder from around the house. They heard footsteps over the shattered glass coming from the living room.

"You are surrounded. You can't protect yourself or your mate, Alpha. We need both of your lives." A woman who was the first through the window spoke, her long black hair trailing far down her back. She wore a red druid cloak. Stiles could see other people in the broken windows but couldn't make out how many. He sat up and brushed against Derek's leg to comfort him. He chose to ignore the mate remark until after they were dead.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House." The venom of Derek's voice was harsh.

"Well, you know what they say about the hard way." The woman smiled, with too much teeth, and she let loose two giant energy balls from her fingertips. It struck Derek in the chest before he could move and he fell back into the floor. He groaned sharply before his breathing swallowed. Stiles was almost in shock, at seeing the burnt red mess in the middle of Derek's chest where he was attacked. They turned to Stiles, but didn't seem as worried.

Stiles felt the magic welt up inside of him, and catch fire coming up his throat. He screamed, and light from his body blinded everyone within the area.

Chapter Text

The light began to fade and Stiles could hear the labored breaths of the witches, and the wisp of air coming from Derek's mouth at the slight exhale of his chest. Stiles looks around.. Derek is laying on the floor still but the witches are in various ways bend over or on knees, clutching their eyes. They slowly are regaining vision though, which makes Stiles have an oh, shit moment.

"Right, no harming people. Great." Stiles mumbles as he leans down to touch Derek's shoulder. He concentrates hard on getting away, as his heartbeats faster when he sees one of the witches staring at them and chanting. He tries to calm down, and focus on the slight rise and fall of Derek's chest, and the strongest pull to a location, his own house, even though he knows it's probably not the safest. He feels his body go light, and in a whoosh, they are laying on the hardwood of Stiles' living room. He breathes a sigh of relief, and Derek moans a little through his haze of consciousness. Stiles fishes his cellphone out of his pocket and dials Scott's number without looking.

"Derek is hurt and he's not healing like he should. I'm at my house, get the pack and Deaton here." Stiles rushes into the phone before Scott even opens his mouth for a greeting. Scott says he's on it and hangs up. The silence in the house sits heavy on Stiles, and he taps his foot against the floor.

"Derek, please don't die." Stiles bites his lip, and lays his head on his knee, looking down at him. Stiles tries to well up the magic again, and manages enough to get Derek on the couch. Stiles sits at his feet on the couch, and taps his finger on the back of his hand as he thinks. Minutes seemed to drag by like days as he waited for the pack to get there. He turned his head and looked at Derek, his chest rising slowly.

He puts a hand on Derek's leg, and licks his lips, wondering if Derek can hear him.

"I'm sorry, Derek. I should have taken our job at the warehouse more seriously. I know I'm sarcastic all the time, and hard to deal with. But I think we get along really well, with my sarcasm and you picking on me back. It works for us. I would be really sad about losing that, about losing you. You need to heal. You need to wake up."

Stiles hears a car pull up, and he sniffles a little, and clear his throat. Doors slam and he can hear the footsteps on the porch. The door opens, and they come in. Scott and Issac come around the couch.

"How's he doing?" Scott asks, as the rest of the pack shifts to the other chairs, and Deaton comes to kneel at the couch.

"He's breathing but not healing, and hasn't woken up yet."

"These witches are strong. But with this power, they could have killed him. They didn't however." Deaton wondered outloud.

"They said they needed us. Derek and me. I don't know why." Stiles offered.

"Did they say anything else?" Peter asked. Stiles paused for a minute.

"They think Derek and I are mates for some reason."

"I heard once of witches using soul mates as a source of power. Making one kill the other, and channeling the pain into power. It would probably be stronger with werewolf and witch matings, as the bond would already be supernatural."

"Derek and I aren't mates, though." Stiles pointed out.

"Well, you guys have been getting closer, and hang out a lot." Allison offered.

"We're friends now! Scott told us to get along and we do now!" Stiles defended.

"Oh, come on, Stiles, you guys have the hots for each other. Every one in the pack knows it. Quit dancing around it, he's dying, you might as well admit it now." Lydia quipped, as she polished her nails with a file. Scott coughed, uncomfortably.

"Well, anyway, whatever their plan is, what is our plan?" Scott asked.

"For Derek, right now, I will try to make something soothing for his chest to try to speed the healing process. But he will be out for a couple days at least."

"We will keep the amulet on him, and use the pack on shifts to watch over him. The ones not on shift will continue to weed out the witches and their plans. Maybe we can catch them off guard if we can figure out where they are hiding out." Peter explained.

"We can't go to school. We can get our parents to say we all have the flu or something." Scott said. They worked out the shifts and they got Derek up to Stiles' bed. His dad came home, listened to the story and got the cops on duty to call him if any weird calls came in. Scott and Issac drew the first shift, while Peter went to go check on more magical protection items with Deaton. The girls went home. Erica, Boyd and Jackson would be back in the morning for their shift.

Once Derek was in bed, he started moving, and twisting. He wasn't fully awake but his moving was going to make his wound start bleeding again. Luckily, Deaton left a couple bottles for emergencies. Stiles took the sleeping potion, and dropped two tiny drops into Derek's mouth. His body stilled down, and his breathing evened back out.

"You know, Derek, if it had to be anyone I would have been stuck with as a master for the rest of my life, at least it was you."

Chapter Text

"Ugh, quit poking me." Stiles mumbled into his pillow. He felt another touch at his shin. He kicked at the intruding poke, and wiggled his body around in his sleep.

"Ouch." He heard, quiet. His head popped up, and he grinned when he saw Derek's eyes were open, and he was yawning.

"You are awake!"

"Obviously." Derek smirked slightly, and tried to move off the bed, but stopped as he winced. His hand came over his bandaged chest.

"You will feel better soon. It's just taking slower to heal because of the magic." Stiles explained, leaning his head on a propped up elbow.

"Yeah, I could hear bits and pieces of Deaton's conversation. I've been going in and out."

"What else did you hear?" Stiles wondered if he had heard the mate talk, he didn't want any added pressure. He knew he would spaz out if they had to talk about it.

"Not much." Derek said. "I'm starving, though."

"No problem, I will pop us down there." Stiles sat up fast in bed, knocking over a cup from the nightstand.

"You are enjoying this teleporting stuff way too much." Derek replied, but he had a small smile on his face.

"Probably. Might as well, until we can figure out how to get back to our normal existence. Ready?"

"Pop away." Derek said. Derek popped down right into a kitchen chair, next to a royally surprised Scott, who will deny he let out a girlish shriek. Stiles popped into the kitchen, and started helping Issac crack eggs into a frying pan. The smell of breakfast was comforting. While Issac crisped toast in the oven with mounds of butter, Stiles kept an eye on the eggs while piling bacon onto four plates.

As soon as the ceramic plates hit the table, the boys shoveled food into their mouths. It was silent around the room except for the chewing and slurping from coffee cups. Then Scott started talking about the lacrosse season this year, and Isaac and Stiles joined in while Derek just listened. After breakfast, Stiles messed around with his powers, cleaning the dishes with a quick whizz of magic. He grinned, knowing he would have to stop doing it soon so he wouldn't get used to it. He was determined to not be a genie forever.

At nine o'clock, Erica tapped on the glass of the kitchen door, and came in, Boyd and Jackson trailing behind her.

"Hello boys, d'ya miss me?" Erica smiled.

"Always." Derek replied, without looking up from the newspaper he was reading. Scott and Isaac told Stiles to call if they needed anything, and they left to go home to sleep.

Jackson went to go check around the house, while Erica sat down next to Stiles, practically in his lap.

"So, what exactly keeps someone from stealing the teapot and making you their own little genie?" Erica asked.

"Ugh.. you know, I don't know. It does follow us everywhere. What if one of the witches got it during a fight?" Stiles worried.

"Let's test it out, I'd be a good mistress." Erica replied, laughing. She got up, and reached over to take the teapot sitting on the coffee table. As soon as her fingers touched the side, an electric current ran through her body, and she cried out. "That stings like a bitch! Apparently you can't just take it."

"I guess it can only transfer on Derek's death or something like that. That's reassuring, at least. The not being stolen, not your death." Stiles said to Derek, as Boyd kissed Erica's fingers, which were healing from little burn blisters.

"Gee, thanks." Derek replied.

The rest of the day went by very slowly. Jackson, Boyd and Erica took turns walking the perimeter, but the witches never showed. It was a very uneventful day, and Stiles got bored of just sitting around. Derek was reading, but Stiles couldn't sit still to read any of the magic books Deaton lent him while they were under pack watch. Eventually, he suggested a movie. Jackson and Boyd continued their turns, while Erica crowded on the couch between Derek and Stiles. She popped in Mean Girls, but Stiles knew better than to complain about Erica's choices in anything.

After the movie was over, Erica went to go paint her nails in the kitchen by the bay window, keeping an eye on the driveway. Boyd and Jackson were still walking the perimeter outside. Stiles and Derek went upstairs.

"Do you want to try to shower, or wait until the bandage come off?" Stiles asked.

"I don't think I could manage as well on my own, so I better wait." Derek plopped on the bed, wincing when he hit, knowing after it was too late that he should have taken it easier.

"Got it. We just aren't ready to move on to the next level in our domestically blissful relationship." Stiles laughed.

"Right." Derek snorted. He sighed. "What are we going to do if we can't break the genie curse?"

"We will. We always find what we need in the end, we've been a pack long enough to know that." Stiles reassured him, and got in the other side of the bed.

"I didn't think I would ever be in another pack. It's not the same as before but I am glad it happened." Derek confessed, his face turned away from Stiles.

"I feel the same way about my family. I thought it would always be a fracture. Me and my dad. But then Scott and Melissa became family, and then the pack is basically family."

Derek turned over, and looked at Stiles.

"Even you, Sourwolf." Stiles grinned. Derek smiled, and before Stiles could process it, Derek moved forward, and was kissing him. He didn't hesitate to kiss back, and when Derek took his lips off to take a breath, possibly to say something, Stiles immediately started to kiss along his jawline, the stubble brushing against his warm mouth. Derek let out a little moan, and Stiles grinned against his neck. He grew bolder and slipped his hand under Derek's shirt along his side. Derek's came up to Stiles' face, and he kissed him, sliding his tongue across Stiles' lips, as Stiles opened up to him. When Derek heard Stiles' breath stagger and felt his hand tense, and his fingers claw slightly at his side, Derek rolled over, and slid his body between Stiles' legs, and ground his hips into his. Stiles moaned, and they were so caught up in each other, Derek didn't hear the footsteps up the stairs, or the door open.

"Hey Sti-- oh, shit." Scott bumbled out, before shutting the door. Stiles flailed as soon as he saw Scott, knocking Derek and himself off the bed. Derek groaned, and rubbed a hand over his chest.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to hurt you." Stiles apologized. "Leave it to Scott to walk in just when it's getting good."

"I have a feeling he will be a little more traumatized than you." Derek laughed, since he could now hear Scott pacing downstairs. Stiles send a text to Scott telling him that's what he gets for not knocking. "Let's just go to sleep, my chest hurts too much to continue this right now."

"But soon?" Stiles said, with a smile that almost passed for shyness for him.

"As soon as it's healed. Promise." Derek replied and Stiles grinned, before tossing off his shirt, and laying back down in the bed. Derek took his off, too, and pulled the covers over them. Derek threw an arm over Stiles, and cuddled up to his back. He nuzzled Stiles' neck. Within minutes, Stiles' breathing slowed down and he was right on the edge of sleep.

"I'm glad it was me, too." Derek whispered into Stiles' neck. Stiles barely registered it, and fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

Chapter Text

Stiles woke up to an empty bed, but it was still warm from Derek's body heat. He yawned, and grimaced a little at the wet spot under his face. Nothing like cuddling with a werewolf for heavy sleep. He was still wearing what he went to bed in, and not the genie wear, so he counted that as another win. He trudged downstairs and found Scott and Isaac in the kitchen, sitting at the table. Derek was at the stove, his back turned to him.

"Morning, Stiles." Isaac smiled. Stiles grumbled and continued through to the coffee pot, where he had honed in the glorious smell of caffiene. He ignores them as he pours a cup and brings it to his lips, sighing in joy.

"Tough night?" Isaac laughs.

"Apparently not." Scott mumbles. Stiles glares at him.

"Maybe you should learn to knock."

Stiles leans his back against the counter, and looks at Derek. Derek flips the pancake he is currently cooking to a pretty golden color, and smiles at Stiles. The grin that crosses Stiles face makes Scott groan.

"Shove it, Scott. I had to listen to your sappy swooning over Allison, you can quit whining about me and Derek." Stiles replied, taking another sip of his coffee.

"So there's a Stiles and Derek now?" Isaac grinned.

They finished breakfast and Scott and Isaac go outside to walk around the property, still on the lookout for whatever plan the witches have for them.

"Are we going to talk about what the witch said?" Stiles asked, as Derek sat down at the counter after finishing the dishes. Derek shrugged.

"Well, we like each other, we could be mates. But I think we should focus on the fact that they want us for something, we need to figure out for what before it gets someone in the pack hurt."

"True. Is it bad I kinda hope we find out sooner than later? I hate all this waiting and not knowing."

"No. I get that." Derek leaned over and kissed Stiles on the cheek. The rest of the day went as quietly as the first, and the pack were all over at random times, in shifts, and everyone was antsy at the waiting game they were all forced to play. There was some discussion about going after the witches first, but no solid agreement. As the day turned dark, just Derek, Stiles and Peter were at the house. Stiles' phone rang, and he could see Dad on the screen.

Hey son, I got called out to a barn for a disturbance. Can you and Derek head out here? There's something you should see.

"What is it? Should I call the rest of the pack?"

No.. no, nothing serious like that. I'll tell you when you get here.

"Okay, dad. Text me the address, we are on our way."

Peter decided to stay at the house in case the witches tried to come by and get in. Derek and Stiles took off in the Jeep. The address took them down a winding country road and ended at a barn covered in vines. The sheriff's car was sitting in front of the barn, but there was no sign of him.

"Do you think he's in the barn?" Stiles said, dialing his dad's phone. No answer.

"Stay behind me." Derek replied and got out of the car. Stiles followed him to the barn door, and winced at the loud creak of the door. As soon as he made it in the door, he suddenly felt sick, and he watched Derek fall to his knees in front of him. He noticed a weird slightly blue fog around the floorboards of the barn, as the tendrils came to wrap around their feet. His vision blacked out and he didn't even feel himself fall.


When he woke up, feeling groggy, and off balance, he looked around and realized they weren't in the barn anymore. By the cement walls and musty smell, they must be in a basement somewhere.

"D-Derek?" Stiles mumbled, his mouth dry. He heard a groan, and saw Derek stirring a few feet to his left, slightly out of sight behind a column holding up the roof. Derek looked up at him and tried to speak, but no words came out.

"Oh no. What's happened now? Let's see if I can just pop us out of here." Stiles tried to tap into the magic but it just seem to simmer under his skin, and he couldn't actually touch it. He frowned, and tugged at the ropes around his arms. No luck. "Can you get out?" Derek struggled, but his ropes were wet, and Stiles could smell a weird scent in the air.

"I would just give up with that, Alpha." A cheery voice came from behind them, from a slightly open doorway. The witch that spoke to them at the house came into view. "Those ropes are coated with a special strand of wolfsbane, to restrain you but not hurt you. Your voice was taken from you so you can't give commands to your lover-boy. We wouldn't want this party to come to an end so early, now would we?"

"You know, this would be a better party with some food, maybe a few decorations, or are all witch parties this boring?" Stiles sniped.

"Oh, it will liven up before you know it, sweetheart." The witch smiled, and ran a sharp fingernail against Stiles' arm. He gasped as it burned a line against his skin. "Your magic has been bound."

"Can we get to the evil monologue or something? Twirl your mustache and let us know why you have trapped us?"

"Well, this is going to be fun. I'm going to untie you and give you a knife. Then since your magic is bound enough where you can hurt someone without it stopping you, a spell I'm quite proud of, by the way, you are going to slit your Alpha's throat. The soulbond shattering, and your pack power dwindling will power our coven for years to come."

"Do you have a fancy spell to make me do it, too? Because I will die before I do that, bitch." Stiles scoffed.

"I don't need a spell. You will get up and do it because if you don't, I will break his neck." She laughed, as another witch came in the room, dragging a struggling body behind him. He pulled the body around, and on his knees before the main witch. She grabbed his hair and pulled his face for Stiles to see in the light.

His father, bound and gagged, looked at the witch angrily, and then to Stiles.

Chapter Text

Stiles felt something inside of him just shatter. His father looked defiant but Stiles could practically feel the unease rolling off his father. He had no idea how to get out of this, and was just as terrified as Stiles. Derek struggled against his bonds, but stopped as the ropes just seemed to get tighter. His chest heaved with deep breaths, even with no sound coming out of his mouth. Derek looked at Stiles with pleading eyes. Stiles knew that Derek would tell Stiles to just kill him if he could.

He felt the witch come up behind him, and with the knife, snap the ropes around him, and they fall to the floor. She grabs Stiles by his shirt, and pulls him up. She opens his hand, and puts the knife grip in his hand. Stiles instantly tries to use the knife against her, but his stomach churns painfully and she just laughs.

"You think we wouldn't make sure you couldn't use the knife on us. Oh dear, you aren't as smart as your reputation holds. Pity." Stiles just glared at her.

He just had to find another way. He quickly racked his mind while trying to calm his breaths, and ignore the smile of the witch who was vastly enjoying Stiles' internal struggle. The pack wouldn't get here in time, it was only a small sliver of hope. Peter knew they were gone but not where. Who knows how long before they realized they were missing. Stiles had no magic, and Derek couldn't get out of this himself.

"Come on, honey. Why drag it out?" The witch chuckled.

He can't let his father die. He steps toward Derek. He can't let Derek die either, and by extension, the pack. If Derek dies, Scott would be Alpha but it wouldn't be the same. The family they have built will be lost. Stiles wouldn't be able to live with himself. He stands in front of Derek, and reaches out. His hand touches the side of Derek's face, and Derek leans into the touch. His stubble is rough and comforting against Stiles' smooth palm. Stiles' heart breaks as Derek presses his mouth to his palm, then bares his throat. Stiles is overwhelm with the trust that Derek puts in him. The knife is too heavy in his hand, and he tries not to cry. He pauses and looks back at the witch.

"Why don't you kill us yourself if you want the soul-bond broken?" Stiles asked, half hoping she would just do it, so he wouldn't have to make this choice.

"It's not the soul-bond breaking in general. The spell requires a deep betrayal, and for the blood of one on the other's hands. Heartbreak, guilt, grief.. it's so much more powerful than just grief and sadness at the loss of your mate. The knife will channel it into our coven." She seems almost bored, but he can see a slight twitch in her hand, a small sign of tension. She needs him.

He turns back to Derek, rubs his hand down Derek's neck, relishing the slight tremble Derek gives. Stiles leans down and kisses Derek softly.

"I'm glad you're my mate." Stiles murmured, mostly against Derek's mouth. Then he steps back. Derek furrows his eyebrows, and tries to open his mouth as he realizes what plan Stiles has come up with. He tries to shake his head, anything to stop him.

Stiles looks at the witch, and smiles. She narrows her eyes. Stiles lifts the knife, and drives it into his chest. She screams in anger, as he feels a warm sharp pain radiate through his body from his chest. He thinks he hears Derek growl as he blacks out and barely registers hitting the ground.

Chapter Text

The sound of a slight drip is the first thing he catches. Then later on, it's soft voices. He can't make out what they are saying, and he is too drowsy to try to make the words come out to ask. He just listens to the drip until he falls back asleep.

When he wakes again, the voices are gone. He tries to breathe a little deeper, and winces when a dull ache replies in his chest. He feels a hand touch his arm. It feels warm and is a welcome contrast to the cold, thin sheets against his skin.


He tries to mumble something as a greeting but his mouth is so dry, and he lets out a weak cough. He feels something press against his lips, and he opens them. He is rewarded with tiny ice chips tumbling into his mouth. He sighs, happily. He turns his head, and finally opens his eyes. Derek is sitting in a chair next to the bed, with messy hair and his pretty stubble face. Stiles grins.

"I can't believe you did that. I lost you, it was terrifying." Derek mostly whispers. Stiles' grin fades.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't think of any other way." He frowns. "What happened after?"

Stiles looks at the witch, and smiles. She narrows her eyes. Stiles lifts the knife, and drives it into his chest. She screams in anger, and Derek growls as Stiles blacks out and hits the ground. Derek's anger consumes him and he shifts, even with the ropes still restraining him. He lunges as much as he can, but the witch is too far away. He can't hear Stiles' heartbeat and he howls in frustration, grief and all consuming need to be holding his body. He stills as he hears howls outside the door.

The witches tried to leave once they heard the pack but didn't make it far. They tried to blast the wolves away with their magic, but the pack could feel the broken bond of Stiles, and had no mercy for the coven. When it was over, Allison sliced the rope, so it wouldn't affect the wolves. The pack held back, except for Scott who knelled at Stiles' feet but hadn't touched him yet. Derek was crying as he pulled Stiles into his lap, and touched the knife gently.

"I wish I could hear your heart beating. I need you." Derek mumbles into the crook of Stiles' neck. Scott slides over, and while Derek holds Stiles in his shaking arms, Scott pulls the knife from his chest, and lets it clink to the floor.

Suddenly, there's a loud pop behind them, and they jump, half shifted before they realize it's the teapot, shattered into pieces where it was sitting in the corner. Everyone is confused until they hear Stiles' heart beat once. Then again.

"Deaton said your death must have broken the genie curse, but that the teapot still gave me one last wish. You were alive again but still unconscious. You've been here, recovering since." Derek finished.

"How long have I been out?"

"A week.." Derek brought his hand to Stiles' face and rubbed his thumb across his jawline. "I love you Stiles."

"I love you, too." Stiles smiled. He laughed as he heard the shuffling outside. "Get in here." The door flew open and the pack tumbled in. Each took turns hugging Stiles and telling him how glad they were that he was alive.

Stiles looked at Derek, and he was smiling, too. For once since the whole genie debacle started, he was glad he did touch something he shouldn't have.

Chapter Text

Stiles was dying.

Not literally, this time, obviously. But Derek was leaving slow, open mouthed kisses against his collarbone and chest, and sucking pretty bruises in his wake. Stiles' face was already raw from his stubble while they were making out. Stiles was only in his boxers, while Derek was shirtless but still wearing his jeans. Derek moved down slightly and flicked Stiles' nipple with his tongue before biting down.

Stiles arched off the bed.

"I swear, if we aren't both naked with your cock in my ass, I will die."

"No more dying." He nibbled down Stiles' rib. "You're so impatient." Derek's breath was angled down Stiles' happy trail, and it was doing crazy things to Stiles' libido. He didn't think he had ever been this hard in his life.

"Come on. Please." Derek's hand came up to Stiles' hips, to hold him in place as he gently licked a stripe up Stiles' cock through the fabric of his boxers. Stiles groaned, and dug his nails into Derek's shoulder.

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me, Derek." Stiles drags his nails up Derek's neck and through his hair behind his ears, feeling Derek tremble slightly. Stiles didn't even make a dog joke. "We have all the time in the world for blowjobs, I swear. It's a good thing you have werewolf stamina because I need all of that. I just wish you would get it on for this time. I want to cum with you inside me." If he had a camera, this would be the perfect moment as Derek grins from between his legs.

"As you wish, Master." Stiles can't help but moan at the apparent kink his dick has for that. Derek's grin shows exactly how much he can tell. He wraps his arms around Stiles' thigh and jerks towards him, which makes Stiles right in his lap. He leans down and kisses Stiles. Stiles parts his lips immediately and Derek dives in. It's hot and sloppy and perfect.

Derek somehow sheds both their clothes without breaking the kiss, and runs his hands down Stiles' hips. He reaches a hand between them, and goes straight for Stiles' ass. His hands rubs Stiles' cheeks appreciatively before pressing his finger against Stiles' hole. He apparently managed to lube up while Stiles was distracted by the kisses.

Stiles feel a rumble come from his chest, and wraps his legs around Derek's waist, as his finger slides in. He opens Stiles' up achingly slow, while nibbling at his neck.

"More." Stiles can't even form full sentences anymore. He can feel Derek's happy grin as he adds another and presses up. Stiles just begins to babble a bit, mostly fuck's and Derek-Derek-Derek.

By the time he feels Derek's cock press into his hole, he is convinced he's already in heaven. Derek is mumbling in his ear how much he loves him, and how good he feels. He thrusts and Stiles takes it, clenching in pleasure each time Derek hits his sweet spot.

Derek leans down to kiss the white scar in the middle of Stiles' chest as he wraps his hand around Stiles' dick and with just a few strokes, Stiles is shooting ribbons against Derek's chest, his ass clenching while Derek cums.

Afterwards, they lay sweaty and sticky together, and catching their breath.

"I like it better when you do what I say. Maybe I should find that blue outfit for you to wear next time." Stiles comments. Derek just laughs.