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    “There’s very little else I would like more than you dead at my feet,” Stiles hissed, keeping Derek pressed to the wall “I’m not kind like the others, and I’m not good either, I need you, but if you even think about betraying me; I’ll tear what’s left of your heart out.”


    “Couldn’t just let me have what little you already left me with? We all know who the villain really is, right Stiles? You may have all the others believing that you’re Stiles but I knew him, I loved him, and you are not him.” Stiles moved his hand to grip Derek’s throat silencing him. Derek looked into the eyes that once belonged to Stiles, searching for any sign of him, that the Nogitsune may have left behind.


    “You won’t find him, he’s hidden far far away, living in a dream. He dreams of you. Does that hurt, knowing your precious Stiles lives in a fantasy of you and him actually getting to live happily ever after? That by the time I’m done, you’ll all be dead, then and only then Stiles can live; only to want to die.” The Nogitsune moved in closer to Derek, whispering in his ear. He released his grip on Derek’s throat only for a faint moan to escape the wolf’s mouth.

    Shame flooded Derek’s face as the Nogitsune realized what had happened. “Maybe it would hurt you more to fuck Stiles, without anything that made Stiles Stiles. Did he ever let you fuck him, I bet he didn’t, you’ve been drooling over him for years, meanwhile he’s getting fucked by any tall dark and handsome stranger that pays him the smallest amount of attention. You’re a wolf, I know you can smell the traces of all those different bodies.” Derek looked down defeatedly as the Nogitsune continued his torture, “Just last night, I took Stiles out, ever imagined what he would look like begging for release? Begging to be freed? Or begging for anything? It was a sight I never knew I wanted to see, but the look of the reflection in those stranger’s eyes. He was perfect, cheecks flushed, just begging for it.” The Nogitsune backed away from Derek, licking his lips as he enjoyed the view of the frustrated werewolf.

    “Even as you’re learning all the awful things I’ve done as Stiles, you still have to call me baby and hold my hand while we’re out. Does that hurt, seeing the ruined version of him, and having to pretend to be in love with this monster I’ve created, oh but Derek maybe I’m the one who as to pretend. I know all the awful things you’ve done, the people you’ve hurt, I’m just little Stiles. How could anyone love a monster like you?” He smiled as he watched the hurt wolf hold his emotions.

    “Fuck you,”

    “Later darling,” The Nogitsune winked, walking back to the others, leaving Derek alone in the dark sewers. Derek attempted to take a step forward, but instantly the environment changed, he was in a snowy field, completely alone, except for one shadow.

    “Derek!” Stiles yelled, running toward Derek. Derek froze, this wasn’t real; this couldn’t be real, this had to be a trap. He ran forward against all instinct, attempting to embrace the teen. “I’m gonna die aren’t I? Its okay, I just…  its so cold and I… I’m tired of fighting. Make sure my dad’s okay, there wasn’t anything he… he could’ve done, its not his fault, Derek, Derek, I…”

    Stiles was getting farther and farther away, being dragged back into the depths of the snow covered field. Derek’s eyes blinked and the snowy field slowly transformed back into the dark sewers. He stood, looking dead ahead as small tears rolled down his face. Maybe if he had just been brave enough to be Stiles’ anchor none of this would have happened.

    He made is way toward the group, trying to keep up while turning to look over his shoulder. His mind was searching for Stiles. The group was on the hunt for the towns newest monster, but Derek was worrying about the one sleeping in his bed. They were both pretending, the Nogitsune had gotten good at playing Stiles, but Derek was struggling to pretend he was in love. He wondered when he was going to finally die, when would the nightmare be over? Derek was trapped in his own life, this time no one was going to rescue neither him nor Stiles.

Chapter Text

    Derek paced back and forth across the quickly darkening loft. Twisting his worn hands as he glanced back at his phone, that sat idly waiting on the coffee table. He should never have let Stiles walk out of his apartment. He replays the memory in his mind for the hundredth time that night.

    “Derek, please, we… I need you to do this. Allison has Isaac, Scott has Deaton, and I’m not sure who else to ask,” That’s when Stiles steps closer, his puppy dog eyes pleading. He reaches out for Derek, but he turns away from the boy, “I know you care about me, even if it’s just a small amount, I mean come on we’ve saved each other more than once and it’s not like I’m asking for your fucking hand in marriage! Derek are you even listening? I am trying to save my dad!”

    Derek’s back remained turned, “Leave Stiles, just go, ask someone else,” Stiles lingers, Derek can hear his familiar heartbeat, “I said LEAVE!” He jumps, Derek really is a monster, the big bad wolf, chasing everyone away. Stiles is slow to leave, Derek can smell the fear, and the sadness, and the tiny tears that form in the soft eyes of the boy he so desperately loves.

    He continues to pace and think back to what he could have done, what he should have done, for hours on end, the loft gets dark without his care or notice. Derek’s phone lights up and he is pulled into reality, racing to view the message as quickly as he can, it was Deaton, ‘The plan worked’ ‘everyone is safe’ Derek breathed a sigh of relief as he went to send a message to Stiles, ‘Heard the plan worked. Glad everyone is safe.’

    Derek paced for hours more waiting for a response. His response was silence and the knowledge that Stiles had read his message almost instantly. Derek calmly set the phone down and walked toward the large kitchen. His hand hesitated for a brief moment before opening the dark colored cabinets and retrieving a short crystal glass. Derek slammed the cabinet and opened another grabbing the first bottle that touched his finger tips.

    He filled his glass with the dark liquid of whichever expensive alcohol he had grabbed. The bottle was near empty by the time Peter was knocking on his door. “Derek, I know you’re in there throwing some poor excuse of a temper tantrum, so open the door.”

    Derek chugged the rest of his glass before slamming it on the counter, breaking the glass into delicate shards. He stumbled toward his front door. The lock was more complicated than he remembered, but slowly he was able to slide open the metal door, revealing his uncle. Peter walked past his obviously drunk nephew toward the kitchen, he grabbed himself a glass and finished off the bottle Derek had been working on. “Glad to see you used a glass this time, you’re not such an animal after all. Is this about that Stiles boy?”

    He glared at his uncle from his new found place on the couch. “I’ll take that as a yes, though I do enjoy hearing my own voice it can be difficult to hold a conversation that way. What did you do to him?” Peter spoke leaning against the counter tops.

    “I made him cry,” Derek growled.

    Peter grinned, it was the grin of a man who hoped Derek had ravaged the boy, that Derek had finally let his wolf take over. Derek, as Peter knew, was too controlled to ever let his wolf take control like that. “What’d you do, hurt his feelings?”

    “Get out, Peter! Just leave me alone and don’t come back,” Derek mumbled. Peter had already lost interest in his nephews drunken night, he gladly got up and walked toward the door. He looked back at Derek, who was enraged on the couch, and for a brief moment Peter thought he would stay and help, that he would help Derek understand that Stiles would forgive him and that they would all still be okay, but he turned; leaving Derek alone in the spacious loft.

    Derek spent the night on the couch. He spent the next two weeks being ignored and avoided by everyone in the pack. He really messed up this time. He finally got a hold of Scott after filling his voicemail. “Look Derek, none of us are mad at you, but Stiles can’t get over the fact that you wouldn’t help him save his dad. He thought you guys were closer than that, that you could just help him and not have to be the fucking hero. You’ve known him almost as long as I have, it was his dad, the last of his family. What happened to the kid who watched his family burn, but was able to smile at some shit joke Stiles said, because he would have done anything to help. Just give Stiles some space, because for some reason he still thinks theres some part of you that isn’t a hardened shell of who you once were.” Scott hung up without allowing Derek to defend himself or apologize.

    He let not only Stiles but the pack down for the last time. Scott and Stiles saved him, when the let him join their pack, he destroyed his own packs more than once, yet they still believed he could be good. Images of Paige covered in blood and dying in his arms, and Boyd mumbling that it was not his fault, and Erica breathless on the floor and even Peter, a murder he committed while power hungry and self righteous, flooded his mind. Derek betrayed them all, he let them die, it was his duty to protect them and love them and he killed them.

    He thought back to who he used to be, who he was when he first met Stiles. Back then Derek had no idea why the hyperactive child was hanging around a sheriff's station, but he was glad he was there that night. Derek was waiting to make his statement about the fire. Stiles was wandering around, jumping from desk to desk asking a million questions a minute before his eyes caught sight of Derek. Stiles’ puzzled gaze continued as he made his way through the sea of desks toward the broken boy. He seemed so small then. “Kids are never here for good reason, so I’m sorry. I’m Stiles by the way, what’s your name?”
“I’m Derek, you don’t have to be sorry, I’m here because of my own stupidity. My whole family is dead and it is all my fault, and I wasn’t even there to save them…” He begins to softly cry, Stiles comes closer and pulls him into an embrace.

    “Did you set the fire?” Stiles asked.

   “No but…”

    “Than its not your fault, I’ve spent a lot of time in this station and I think I would know what a heartless killer looks like, and that is not what you look like, dude you’re just a kid,” Stiles continued to let Derek cry as he continued to hold onto him. Sheriff Stilinski walked out of his office ready to take Derek’s statement, but he left the boys alone, sometimes compassion is more important than protocol.

    Stiles did tell the distraught Derek bad jokes, they were all equally bad, but Derek distinctly remembers the last one Stiles told him, “What does a vegetarian wait no… a zombie thats a vegetarian eat?”

    “I don’t know, Stiles, what?”

    “Grains!”

    Derek laughed an eye crinkling laugh and the boys were still children in that moment, it was the last moment before reality would take them both back.

    Derek let out a small chuckle into the emptiness of his loft, he was good once. He looked around his house, and took view of the multitude of empty liquor bottles scattered around the loft. He walked past them all, moving on from the memories, straight to his bedroom. Derek began to pack a duffel bag which he easily threw over his shoulder. He went into his bathroom, looking himself directly in the mirror before he shut off the light. “Not everything is your fault, but they need you to be better. You need to be good again,”

    He left everything behind, with the exception of a few outfits. His phone was left to slowly die on the coffee table, his keys left waiting for their next journey on the counter, and his leather jacket draped over the back of the grey sofa. For a moment he wondered if he should grab it, he walked through the door leaving the loft empty and the jacket behind. He knew where he was going, but no one else would.

Chapter Text

    Stiles lingers, his pleading eyes tracing the outline of the muscles on Derek’s back. The room is silent, filled only with the sound of their breathing. Derek turns, eyes glowing and violent, “I said leave!” The outburst shocks Stiles, tears begin to form in his soft brown eyes. He slowly walks toward the door, he turns before exiting the loft, taking another glance at the now turned Derek pulling his face into his hands and resting his elbows on the counter. He gently slides the door closed and locks it with his key.

    He made his way back to the jeep, he held his tears back until he reached the safety of his car. Stiles calmly rested his head on the worn steering wheel, allowing himself to cry freely. Derek’s outburst have never hurt like this before. They had been pushing and pulling each other for years, dancing on the thin line between friends and lovers. Each fight and every mistake pushed them onto a different place on the line. The tears slowed their downpour as the task at hand reentered the forefront of Stiles’ mind.

    He scrolled through his contacts, should he even try he wondered. He pressed down on the call button, it was mere moments before Lydia answered, “Hey Stiles, what’s up?”

    “Actually I need your help with something it’s kind of complicated can you meet me at the animal clinic?”

    “Yeah, I’ll be there just give me a few,” the line went dead was Stiles really going to drag Lydia back into this world? He pulled out his phone dialing Scott’s number “Hey buddy…  Lydia is going to be my anchor. She’s on her way to the clinic now didn’t know who else to ask”

    “You what!? does her mother know? what are we going to do erase her memories again after tonight? Stiles why…  you know what never mind we don’t have time just get here as fast as you can” Scott hung up the leaving Stiles once again alone in his Jeep, he glanced upon up one final time before reversing. As he left he could see the shadow of Derek pacing around his loft, he knew Derek was torturing himself for his actions. Stiles left Derek’s apartment and rushed over to the clinic.

    Deaton was standing outside waiting for Stiles with his arms crossed and the look of a disappointed parent etched into his face. Stiles shut off the jeep and walked toward it is awaiting lecture “I didn’t expect you to bring Lydia. I already told her what to do and I called her mother. When this is over we’re going to give her sedative, if she asks this never happened it was just a weird dream, got it Stiles? you guys have a few rules to follow but leaving Lydia out of anything supernatural is the one rule I thought you’d be able to follow” Deaton hid his fear of this plan failing because of Lydia well, but even Stiles knew all Deaton wanted to ask was ‘where is Derek?’. They entered the building with not another word said between them.

    The plan worked, the false sacrifice saved their parents. By the time Stiles and the sheriff arrived home both were exhausted but Stiles insisted his father eat while Stiles rummaged around the kitchen. While he searched and made food, his phone chimed, he opened it to read the message.  It was Derek, “heard the plan worked glad everyone is safe”, Stiles stared at the message planning his response, but before he could type out a message his timer beeped his lasagna was done.

    He plated the excuse of a dinner and brought it to where his father sat on the couch, watching a baseball game. Stiles watched as his father ate, not wanting to miss another second of this time together; he almost lost his dad. “Stiles eat your food and stop looking at me. I’m fine we are both safe and  I would personally like to eat and watch the game without feeling like a zoo animal,” Stiles reverted his gaze to his full dinner plate. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t eating, his entire focus was on his father and the dread of losing him.

    Sheriff relaxed into the couch, pretending for one more night that the events that had previously transpired over that day, had never occurred, for one more night’s rest. That he hadn’t almost been a human sacrifice and that his only son hadn’t willingly put his own life in danger to save him. The family watched the game feeling some sense of normalcy. Stiles hadn’t noticed his father nodding off until the credits for some old Western that came on after the game began to roll. He looked so calm and serene in his slumber, his face relaxed nearly erasing all of the tiny wrinkles that call his face home. Stiles stood and placed a blanket over his father, it was them against the world after all.

    He gathered their plates from the living room and place them in the sink. Derek. Stiles rushed to his phone, no new notifications. He dialed a number he knew all too well, “Hey Peter it’s me Stiles,”

    “Stiles, how can I be of service? Since you seem to think that I am at your beck and call and you have the right to call me at this ungodly hour,”

    “When have you ever been a man of God? I need to ask you a favor…” Stiles stood in the entryway of the kitchen looking at a sleeping father.

    “I’m listening…”

    “Please go check on your nephew. We… he’s had a rough night and needs someone right now,”  Stiles bit his lip as he spoke his demands.

    “What’s in it for me?” Peter, there always had to be something in it for himself.

    “Anything you want I just need you to make sure he’s okay,”

    “I want a date with you, nothing crazy dinner and a movie, I’ll take you home and it only has to happen once,” Peter knew Stiles was desperate, he wondered just how desperate though.

    “Deal, just go check on him and call me after you’ve seen him,” agitated, Stiles ended the call. His mind once again returned its focus to his reply to Derek his eyes read over the message again and again, “Heard the plan worked. Glad everyone is safe’ His thumbs slowly began to dance across the keyboard of his phone composing a delayed response to the message.

    ‘Derek, it’s okay.  I’m not mad, I just got a lot to worry about right now. I know you, so don’t worry about my forgiveness or the wrongs you think you’ve done. I didn’t mean to overstep and make you feel forced, but maybe tonight and even tomorrow you should find someone else to call at 2 AM when the memories and fear terrify you. I’m not going anywhere though, don’t think you’ve gotten rid of me yet, sourwolf’ Stiles press glowing send button.

    Stiles paused, his hand gripping onto the phone as he leaned against the doorway. His thumbs began to dance on the keyboard once more, ‘I love you and know you love me too. right now we are aren’t the people we need. we won’t work out no matter what we want we just won’t’ he held the backspace key and watched his message fade away.

    Stiles turned off the lights and headed toward his room. Traces of Derek were scattered across his room, photos of them,  clothes, memories. Stiles turns to shut his door, his hands lingers on the small indent from the first time they kissed. Derek had  come over because Stiles wanted to throw him a graduation party. Derek thought the sophomore was insane but still give into his demands.

    Stiles was showing him different color schemes and themes, he left Derek alone with the book of ideas while he went to grab some snacks. His hands were full and he needed Derek to come and open the bedroom door. Stiles leaned back to shut the door without the use of his hands, while Derek continued to lean closer. Stiles in an instant dropped the snacks and pulled Derek’s lips to his. They were never anything labeled, they just were, it was just Derek and Stiles and everyone knew it but no one dared to say it.

    Stiles regained focus and went toward his bed still awaiting Peter’s call. Peter never approved of Derek and Stiles, claiming his nephew deserved more, before Stiles understood the dynamic and relationship between Derek and himself, he spent countless nights blaming Peter for his lack of the title ‘boyfriend’. He always wanted to blame Peter for their lack of commitment. But things have changed since then.

    Derek has been pulling himself away from the pack since Boyd died. Stiles has tried to pull him back, but somethings even Stiles can’t fix. He paced around his dark bedroom ‘How long does it take Peter to fight with his nephew?’ Stiles thought while keeping his eyes on the dark phone that sat on his unmade bed. The moment the phone lit up Stiles pounced, answering immediately.

    “You do understand Derek is a grown man and make his own decisions and handle himself right?” Peter asked.

    “First off he’s 21 not 30, you act like he’s grown up we both know that’s not true. How was he?”Stiles regained himself from his surge of activity.

    “Drunk. Stupidly drunk, he broke some glasses, yelled at me to leave, nothing new. So I was thinking Italian and then…”

    Stiles cut Peter off without warning.“Was he okay? Did you put him to bed? Did you talk to him? How drunk was he?” Stiles berated.

    “Stop Stiles! He is not my responsibility. He is not your responsibility. Stop trying to take care of him, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he doesn’t want you, okay? He made that clear to me tonight. You are keeping him from moving on from his past. If he really wanted to be with you, don’t you think you’d be together right now?” Peter didn’t like to share nor did he not like getting what he wanted.

    “Fuck you,” Stiles hung up the call.Peter was an ass but maybe he was right. Things have changed, things happened, maybe it was the best for Stiles to let him go. He crawled into bed, ‘Was Derek safely tucked away in his bed?’ He turned his head glancing at the bottle of water on his nightstand and wondered ‘How many bottles were scattered around the loft? He always takes the bottles from the kitchen and leave them wherever they become empty’. Stiles closed his eyes, and for the first time in years he didn’t think his sleep would be interrupted by a call from a terrified Derek Hale.

Chapter Text

    Stiles’ eyes fluttered open as rays of sunlight gently began to cover his face. He awoke in the same room he has had his whole life, but nothing felt the same, even the air that filled his tired lungs seemed changed. He stood, still in his clothes from the day before, he walked out of his room without changing, toward the empty kitchen.

    The house was empty and silent, besides Stiles shuffling and moving about. Stiles pulled out the box of fruit loops and set it down on the nearby counter, while reaching for a bowl from within the cabinet. He set it next to the box and swiftly grabs the milk from the fridge.

    He made his bowl of cereal and shuffled toward the kitchen table. Case files cover the old table, his dad must have forgot to pack them up before his double shift. Stiles sat, his fingers tracing the edges of the folders wantonly. He was searching for a file, but he was unsure of which one. His hand stopped, he opened the file, it was a series murder suicides; that were all exactly alike. He studied the case engulfing every detail and analyzing every photo. His mind was focused solely on the file in his hands.

    “Stiles,” the sheriff shook his son, “ you okay, son?”

    “Yeah… um yeah.. I was just eating breakfast, why are you home so early, thought you had a double tonight?” Stiles was still regaining focus and began taking in the room around him.

    “ You left the milk out and I’m not home early stiles, I’m exhausted, are you alright?” Noah finished picking up the kitchen and looked over at his son.

    “Yeah, must have just spaced out for a bit… I guess,” Noah nodded before leaving stiles alone once again. Styles look down at the rainbow colored mush that now filled his bowl. He stood placing in the bowl in the sink and walked toward his bedroom. ‘Nothing felt right, nothing felt like it used to, was he even feeling at all?’ he wondered. He kept trying to make his mind focus, but his thoughts were racing faster than he could even process them. Frustrated, he grabbed his keys and left the house.

    Street lights gave the outside of his home in orange glow, he hopped inside the jeep and started the engine.“What the hell are you doing, Stiles?” he audibly asked himself. He looked into the rearview mirror, the reflection looking back at him wasn’t himself, the fear of his reflection was more emotion than he felt all day. He smirked before putting the car into reverse and flooring it out of his neighborhood.

    He drove the road alone, all other vehicles were gone, safely tucked away in their driveways. Stiles continued to drive absentmindedly, eventually getting on the highway. He looked around the empty road before smiling, he slammed his foot on the gas, watching as the speedometer slowly rise, 60, 65, 70, 75, 80, 85, 90, 95, 100, he stopped looking once it hit 115. He created his own personal cocktail of chaos, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his hands off the wheel. Stiles closed his eyes, feeling every ounce of oxygen that entered his rapidly inflating lungs. His heart was beating louder than sound of the straining engine that roared beneath him.

    ‘Stop.’ The word was screaming in his mind, but he kept pushing for more. With a final breath in, he opened his eyes, placed his hands on the wheel, and lifted his foot off the gas. He calmly turned the wheel as he approached an exit he hadn’t taken in a while. He continued down the dark road until he finally saw the flashing sign. He had arrived at Babylon. One of the few gay nightclubs near his small town.

    The music was so loud, the brick building seemed to vibrate with each sound. Stiles walked right in, the bouncer was a member of a nearby pack meaning, that no doubt Stiles’ pack would learn of his escapades. He walked toward the bar eyeing the shirtless men who were dancing on their own individual raised platforms. He scanned the crowd, someone in there had exactly what he needed. The bartender handed him a drink and motioned toward one of the dancers. Stiles took the drink but only looked at the dancer once. He was blond with a look of innocence in his smile.

    Stiles made his way through the crowd, drink in hand, he saw what he wanted. He placed his drink down on a nearby table and moved toward the older brunette. He grabbed onto the hips of the stranger moving their bodies toward collision. Stiles was grinding his body on the older stranger, never once looking back at the blond dancer who remained focused solely on Stiles. He moved his hands, gently to the back of the man’s neck. Stiles pulled him in for a tender kiss.

    Images and emotions flooded Stiles, he kissed the man hungrily, wanting, needing more. He saw the man, madly, blindly in love with another. They had been friends their whole lives, but the stranger was not loved back. He stayed hurting more and more as he watched the men come in and out of his friends life. Then came the anger, it was sweeter than any taste that had previously touch Stiles tongue. The rage from this stranger that his love was abused and walked on by his friend, was sinfully delicious.

    Stiles smiled as he pulled away, looking for someone else in the flashing lights and blaring sound of the night club. He put on his soft puppy expression as he approached the glitter covered boy. He couldn’t have been more than 15. It was his smile that drew stiles toward the boy. As Stiles approached, the teen turned grinding his ass into the front of Stiles, each movement more intoxicating than the last. Stiles mouth quickly found a place on his neck as he moved his hands up his shirt, the younger gripped Stiles’ hair pulling his head whichever way he wanted.

    Stiles was hungry like never before. New images filed his mind. Smashing plates and screaming voices, a home in chaos and ruins. The sound of the gun the boy fired upon his family, made Stiles instantly pull away from the boy. He rushed away, through the crowd and out the back door. He leaned against the wall, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe. Where was he? He regained control of his breathing, and sat on the ground the alley. He opened his phone, it was 3 AM, he thought of who he knew who would be awake, who would help him, he exited out of his contacts, his right thumb still hovering over the place where Derek‘s name was moments ago.

    He walked out of the alley and mapped his way home. He didn’t know why he was there, but every night for a week and a half he found himself there, never remembering arriving. It took 10 days for the blond dancer to approach Stiles. He held open his palm, in the center was a small pill. Stiles eagerly placed it in his mouth. The blond pulled him to the dance floor. Stiles’  mind was gone, his head filled only with glitter, drugs, and the smell of sex. The blond leaned in, and whispered something into his ear, Stiles nodded and followed him out of the club.

    Stiles stopped once outside, he looked up at the sparkling stars above, the dancer turned around to notice the lack of Stiles’ presence behind him. The blond came up behind Stiles wrapping his arms around Stiles’ front, “twinkle twinkle little star, let me fuck you in my car” Stiles spun in his arms kissing him as they moved toward the dimly lit parking lot.

    Stiles kept the lean dancer pressed against his black Civic. He moved his mouth slowly down, nipping at the boys neck and collar bones, and then the real rush took over. A new scene was painted in Stiles mind as he sunk to his knees removing the dancers pants and underwear in one swift tug, revealing the bulge Stiles had been grinding on just moments before.

    He looked up at the blond and grabbed the erection that was now free from the tight jeans it had been imprisoned in. Stiles licked his lips before parting them and taking the entire length in swallow. Derek. Stiles pulled off, a string of spit connecting his mouth to the top of the dancers now throbbing cock. He took a deep breath before taking the entire length again.

    Emotions and images flashed, so close to Stiles hungry reach, he gripped the hips of the man above him as he bobbed his head slowly up and down, making himself choke. ‘Justin’ someone screamed, a hit to the head. Losing everything he loved, all the pain of the world raining on who he was. Stiles pulled off, his lips already puffy and throat slightly sore, “Harder, Justin” Stiles looked up.

    Justin laced his finger in Stiles brown locks, gripping so tight it almost hurt. He shoved Stiles back down and set a merciless pace, chasing his own pleasure, while choking stiles with each thrust of his cock. Tears gathered at the corners of Stiles’ blown out eyes. A mixture of spit and pre-cum were dripping down Stiles’ chin. Suddenly Justin stopped, shoving himself fully into stiles abused mouth, he tilted his head back moaning louder than he had been before. Stiles choked and swallowed every drop of cum that the young dancer gave him.

    Justin loosened his hands from stiles hair, and stiles slowly pulled himself off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are you okay?” Justin asked, his bottom half still completely nude in the middle of the darkened parking lot.

    “Yeah,” Stiles stood, kissing Justin on the check before turning to walk toward his own car, “Don’t worry, you’ll see me again, tiny dancer”

    Stiles sat alone in the Jeep, only on this occasion he did not feel alone. He didn’t realize where he was taking himself, until he parked and he saw the shadow of Derek pacing in his loft.

Chapter Text

He looked up, watching the shadow move as the soft hum of the jeep’s engine helped him regain his line of focus. Stiles gripped the steering wheel, half his heart wanted to run upstairs and see Derek, the other half wanted to set the building on fire and watch him burn. He put the car in reverse and guided himself home, through the empty town. Street lights flickered as he pulled into his empty driveway, his father probably pulled another double down at the station. Stiles stumbled toward his front door, keys jingling in his shaky hands. He fumbled with the door, stubbornly trying to grant himself access to the kitchen that was just a few meters behind the locked door, the amount of alcohol and drugs in his system were not advantages in his attack against the front door.

 He pushed the door open, giving view to the dark and empty home, its moments like these that he wished his father had let him get a pet. Coming home to nothing so often only increased the void in his heart. He stumbled toward his bedroom, removing the days old shirt from his back. Stiles turned on the light in his room, revealing the disaster the darkness had hidden. He couldn’t remember the last time he cleaned his room, or changed his clothes, or even slept in his bed. He went to his kitchen grabbing a granola bar and heading back toward his bedroom.

 He turned on his desk lamp while spreading out papers and late assignments, that he hadn’t done while he was clubbing and avoiding responsibilities. Stiles spent the night going back and forth between his desk and the kitchen, doing multiple assignments before getting up to retrieve more snacks. When was the last time he ate a full meal, he wondered after sitting down with his fifth granola bar. The sky outside his window began to slowly brighten as night turned to day, broken pencils and crumpled papers remained on his desk as he shoveled his freshly completed assignments into his backpack. He threw his bag by his bedroom door as he rushed to take a shower and get dressed. He paused, looking at himself in his bathroom mirror. His eyes were sunken and tired, he shook his head and took his brisk shower.

 “Stiles, I’m home,” His father shouted through their home. Stiles peered out from his bedroom door, wet body wrapped in a towel, “Hey, dad, I’ll be out in a minute,”

 The sheriff smiled, he hadn’t heard a response from his son in days, they had always been close, yet their relationship remained fragile. He began to make breakfast, while his only child got dressed and ready for school. He pulled out a pan and a carton of eggs, he wasn’t much of a cook, but he could make some mean scrambled eggs. Stiles popped out of seemingly nowhere, causing his father to drop an egg on the floor. “Damnit Stiles, I can’t understand how you can be so quiet yet at the same time a complete spaz”

 “What can I say, I’m talented, truly I should be awarded for my skills,” Stiles smirked as he rummaged through the cabinet in search of yet another granola bar, “Where are all the bars, thought we had some still,”

 “Well, judging by the numerous wrappers in the trash, I’m guessing we did have some, but somebody ate them all,” The sheriff said, closing the trash can lid after disposing of the dropped egg.

 Stiles shifted, “Umm, okay, okay, okay, uh… I’ve got to get going, dont want to be late to class,” he seemed to lose his own track of thought between each word.

“Stiles,” His father started, but his son was long out the door, too far gone to here his father’s loving words. The jeep seemed to drive itself to school, Stiles was just a passenger, mindlessly reaching his destination.

 He shut his eyes, rested his head on the steering wheel, and a few small tears fell down his face, while his exhausted body tried to steal sleep from him. Knocking on his car window brought him into reality, another bright and sunny day in southern california. He reached over and grabbed his backpack, quickly compiling himself. “Stiles,” Scott wrapped his arms around his best friend, Stiles loose grip was apparent to Scott, which only made him hold Stiles tighter, “Dude, where have you been? Are you okay? Are you sick? Is there something ya know else going on?” Scott barrated.

 “Scott, leave him alone, he’s standing here fine, which says something, now let’s get to class before we’re late,” Allison redirected the leaders attention. The group walked to class, Stiles’ focus was on a million other things, but just in these moments, just for his friends, just for his own little makeshift family, he was the hyper active kid he always was, he was in these moments who they wanted him to be. The voices in his head echoed throughout the day, sometimes they were kind, but most times they were saying all the things Stiles’ feared lived in himself.

 He was walking with the group back to his jeep, when he felt his phone vibrate, and for the first time that day, he picked it up. It was a text from Justin, “Hey, wanna go to a party with me tonight? I’ll make it worth your while ;)”

 Stiles sent a one word response, “Yes,”

 His phone vibrated near instantly, “Pick me up around 8,” with another message following containing an address. Stiles slipped his phone in his pocket and wished his friends goodbye, telling them he had a lot of homework to catch up on, another lie.

 He pulled into his driveway, his father’s cruiser was gone, he was home alone, again. He looked down at his backpack before deciding to leave it in the car. He reached the front door, but it was already cracked open, his hands trembled as he pushed the door open further. He could smell cooking food, hints of garlic and spice filled his nose. He gently closed the door behind him, walking towards the kitchen, he noticed the vase full of flowers sitting on the kitchen counter, Stiles’ heart fluttered, for a brief moment his mind believed they were from Derek. “I thought school got out in two hours, sorry the foods not ready,” Peter turned, wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon.

 “What the hell are you doing? Why are you in my kitchen, no my house?” Stiles yelled at the intruder.

 “You owe me a date, and seeing as I figured you wouldn’t reach out to me, I took some initiative,” Peter turned back to the food, gracefully mixing the dish. Stiles’ eyes were transfixed on his arms as he slowly moved the bubbling mixture. His mind seemed to drift farther and farther from consciousness, all he could see was darkness. Stiles could hear distant speaking, he could feel faint touches, the scent of Peter filled his mind. He was in bliss. High on something he couldn’t remember taking, he let his mind slip, and gave up control.

 Stiles was gone, his mind was vacant, Peter could see the spark in his eyes fade away. Peter knew something else was going on, but Peter wanted to push his limits. He continued to stir the bucantini carbonara, remembering the times he spent running around Italy in his youth. Stiles leaned against the counter, edging his way closer to Peter. He raised the spoon from the pan, lifting it to Stiles mouth, “Try it,”


Stiles obliged, moving closer to the older man, tasting the flavorful dish. “This is amazing spaghetti, where’d you learn to cook like this?”

 “Firstly,” Peter bitterly placed the spoon down, before returning his focus to the boy, “its not spaghetti, it’s bucantini carbonara, and secondly I’ve always been able to cook, but I spent a few years living in Italy during my wild days,”

 Stiles moved closer, intrigued by Peter’s words, watching his lips move as they spoke of his italian adventures, but his tales fell on deaf ears. Stiles’ attention was focused solely on Peter’s mouth, the way his lips moved, they were a force within themselves. It wasn’t long before he pounced, grabbing Peter’s head and forcing their lips to collide. The rush that came over Stiles’ body was more intense than any of the others, the hunger was reawakened, he needed more, each kiss left him breathless but in need.

 Peter shoved him away, they both caught their breath slightly. Peter’s mind was thinking a million different things, the soft wrinkles by his eyes stressing as he turned off the stove. He pushed Stiles against the counter, his lips attacking the younger boys neck. Stiles moaned into the empty house, he couldn’t be bothered with thoughts of when his father would be home, he needed more. Peter may have had the upper hand with Stiles against the counter, but both men knew, Stiles was the one in control.

 Stiles reversed their position, shoving Peter against the counter. He began his attack, marking the older’s skin, love bites that quickly faded away, but the sweet taste of pain flooded Stiles as he continued to devour. Memories of the fire, screaming for their lives, the feeling of being burned alive, losing everyone, the taste of bitterness. His lips moved down Peter’s body, searching, longing for more, looking for a new high. Stiles was on his knees undoing his zipper, when a glint of regret filled Peter’s eyes, that wouldn’t do. Stiles placed gently teasing kisses on Peter’s hips, the regret was soon replaced with want, and that was something Stiles loved the taste of. A fresh set of memories overwhelmed Stiles as he began to lick stripes up Peters hardening dick, it wasn’t the heat of the fire, or the loss of his family that drove Peter’s deliciously bitter attitudes, it was the desert wolf.

 Memories of her and how in love Peter was were sickening on Stiles’ tongue, but the pain at her loss and her betrayal were far more appetizing. Stiles hungrily took Peter fully into his mouth, gagging only slightly as his hard cock poked at the back of the boy’s throat. Stiles was consumed in the pain Peter hid behind his asshole personality, his mind was completely focused on his own unhealthy appetite, he hardly noticed when Peter came down his throat. Stiles slowed down, feeling Peter pulling at his head. He let go, the body wrenching pain he had devoured was gone anyway, wiping his mouth, Stiles smirked up at Peter.

 “I have to go get ready, but you can feel free to eat or whatever,” Stiles turned and left a confused Peter in his kitchen. He could hear rummaging as he began his homework, he sat at his desk just blankly staring at his laptop. His eyes began to slow their blinking, sleep beckoning him, but still he persisted. Something deep within him told him to stay awake, that it was better that way. He couldn’t say how long he’d been mindlessly awake, but judging by the darkness in his room and the sound of his father coming home, it had been hours.

 “Stiles, I’m home,” The sound of the front door closing behind the sheriff echoed through their home, “Where’d the flowers come from?”

 Stiles left the safety of his room and dragged himself into the kitchen, “They’re from Peter, just like a get well thing after your ya know nearly dying thing,”

 The sheriff shrugged, not entirely convinced, but too tired to argue, “Well thank you for making dinner, and not just some veggie burger crap,” His father pulled out a tupperware dish of pasta.

 “Yeah no problem, I’ve actually got a paper to finish for school, so I better get to it,” Stiles was groggy and uncomfortable, the memories of what happened in that kitchen replayed, but they felt more like a dream than something he would ever do. His dad nodded along as he disappeared back to his room. Where was his mind? He searched for his phone, finding it under his bag. Stiles dialed Deaton, reaching his voicemail, “Deaton, its Stiles, I don’t know what’s wrong, I… I feel like I’ve been drugged, I… I can’t remember, I feel so numb,” He set the phone down calmly and walked toward his bathroom.

 Looking at his eyes in the mirror, he felt himself being pulled from his body, all of the dreadful images he had seen filling his vision. Tears pouring down his still face was all he saw before things went dark and distant again. Everything was dark, but he didn’t feel sad, or angry, or scared, he was calm, he felt very high and very safe. Stiles moved to turn on the shower, it was almost time for him to go meetup with Justin. He quickly showered and got dressed before he raced out his bedroom window, toward his car.

 He sat in his jeep, the soft purr of the engine daring him to drive as fast as he could to Justin. He let his foot press heavily on the gas as he drove to one of his lovers homes, it was a posh apartment, not too far from the night club. He parked out front and took the elevator to the top floor. Loud music and the voices of hundreds of people filled the room just beyond the elevator door, Stiles’ heart raced in excitement. The doors slid open and his is greeted by flashing lights and moving bodies. He moves through the crowd, fingertips grazing bodies as he passes by, tinges of emotions fill him from his fingertips. Stiles finds Justin, standing by the doorway of a room, drink in his hand, scanning the room for someone.

 “Hey, tiny dancer, this is quite some party you’ve got here,”

 Justin’s eyes lit up, pulling Stiles in for a hug. Tingles of emotion danced across Stiles’ skin, “I was getting worried you wouldn’t come,”

 “I’ll always come for you, I also would never miss a party this big,” Stiles smirked, Justin pulled him towards the drinks, before handing him a cup of god knows what. He gulped own the drink blindly, feeling the burn as the alcohols ran down his throat. Bodies on bodies on bodies, the room was spinning, and the monster within was beginning to wake from its slumber. Stiles pulled Justin closer, holding onto him for dear life. He looked up into the blonde dancer’s eyes, they were filled with want. Stiles spun around, grinding his ass against the growing bulge in Justin’s pants. Justin paused, offering Stiles a pill. Stiles opened his mouth and allowed Justin to place it on his tongue.

 Stiles began to kiss his neck as the drugs kicked in, new memories, new pain, new highs eased the hunger raging within Stiles. Visions of screaming matches in this very room, throwing things, lying to each other. His feeding frenzy was interrupted by Justin whispering in Stiles’ ear, “Let’s get out of here, I know somewhere,”

 Stiles followed Justin through the crowd toward a different elevator, was this already a different place than he had started the night at? Stiles looked for any trace of the place he started his night at, looking for the elevator he took to get up, the kitchen, the floor even, but he wasn’t sure. Justin kissed along his neck as the elevator went down, before the doors opened, he gave Stiles another pill, this one was different than the last, its milky white color was nothing like the vibrant colors of the pill before it. They were in a parking garage, the lights flickered above them as they stumbled toward a brand new black Mercedes. Justin handed the keys to Stiles, “I can’t drive, I don’t remember how,” He laughed uncontrollably.

 Stiles got in the driver’s seat, looking forward as he turned the car on. He felt something vibrating in his pocket, he grabbed his phone and set it in the center cup holder, he couldn’t read the date or time, but he could see the hundreds of texts and missed calls he had. He reversed and drove them out of the parking garage and onto the open roads. The city lights sparkled as they sped through the town. More buzzing from Stiles phone. Justin picked it up, reading through the messages. “Who’s Derek?” he mumbled.

 “No one, why?” Stiles gritted.

 “He’s gone, and people are worried about you,” Justin did a line of coke off of the dashboard. 

“Who said he’s gone, actually no I don’t care. Fuck Derek Hale,” Stiles screamed holding back tears.

 “Sounds like somebody cares a lot about Mr. Derek Hale, he sounds like a hotty, whats he look like?” Justin took another pill as he began to scroll through Stiles’ phone. Stiles let go of the wheel, grabbing for his phone, “Give it back,”

 Justin dropped it onto the floor, as his eyes rolled back into his head and he began to shake. Stiles put his hands back on the wheel but it was too late, they had already drifted into the other lanes of traffic, car horns were blaring as they neared the fencing on the bridge, when did they get to a bridge. Justin stopped moving, before they broke the barrier that separated the cars from the water below. Stiles was sobered quickly as the water came closer and closer. The car crashed into the dark water below, and Stiles let go again, drifting into the safety of the dark. He felt the water slowly cover him, but it was more dreamlike, this wasn’t happening, because Derek would never leave. He took a deep breathe in, smelling the salty scent of water.

Chapter Text

The scent of salty water filled Stiles’ nose as he began to fade. Stiles could see the glimmering of the city lights, but they were quickly becoming dark, he was letting go. Memories began to fill his mind, they were blurry, like he was dreaming. He was racing down his street on his bike, Scott was right behind him, shouting for him to wait up, Stiles only peddled faster. They were going to the forest, looking for adventure, trying to out race the sunset, neither of them wanting to go home to dinner, adventuring was more fun. The images quickly blurred and refocused, he was home with his mom, sitting on the counter.

She was baking, trying to explain to Stiles what she was doing, while he asked a million questions about a million things. His mom. He tried so hard to remember her voice, or the way she smelled, even her face was blurring. She wrapped her arms around him, lifting him off the counter and telling him to leave, he left that day. He should have stayed, spent the afternoon with his mom, rather than playing video games. He didn’t realize how precious those moments would one day be. It was like static through his mind, his room was shifting and posters were moving and changing.

Derek. Derek was there, looking at him, halfway out the door. Stiles tried to speak, but no sound came out, the distance between them only grew. He wanted to beg Derek to stay, to just lay with him. The want to hold Derek and feel him one last time in his arms filled his heart. Stiles wanted to breathe in their scent, fill his lungs with the soft scent of his love. Stiles stepped toward the warmth of Derek, the space only grew, he ran harder and faster never moving any closer to him.

“please… please… just please stay,” Stiles scream only came out as a pained whisper. One last time, he didn’t want to be alone, one last time with them all, is all he wanted. The reality of Derek leaving him, and he stopped running. The static returned. He closed his eyes, the noise of sirens and people filled his ears. The station.

Stiles was small again, his legs dangling off the edge of the wooden bench outside his dad’s office. Everyone was there, racing around, he got off the bench to see what they were doing, the soft edges of his vision, made him feel safe. He walked toward the whiteboard, one photo was at the top middle, the victim. It was him, he was missing. He was gone, vanished from thin air, no one knew anything. He was a cold case, but they had just gotten their first lead. A blue jeep, it was found over-turned on the side of the road covered in his DNA. The team was puzzled, he couldn’t drive and his DNA was the only source found. He floated around the station. They all seemed so much older though, Parish had a wedding ring on, and his father’s hair had grayed.

The lights in the station flickered as water began to drip slowly from the ceiling. Derek was sat in the same chair as when they met, he was the only one who looked young still. He looked the same as when they met, the same look of fear was in his eyes. Stiles ran toward him, slipping in the puddles of water that had begun to collect on the floor. He continued to slip and struggle his entire way over to Derek. ‘Stiles, they’ve been looking for you, they lost you and they lost me. Why are you so lost?’

Stiles stood confused in front of Derek, he wasn’t lost, they weren’t lost, they were right there. Derek reached out his hand for Stiles to take. He didn’t know if it was the water from the ceiling or tears that streamed down his face as he grabbed Derek’s hand and held on as tight as he could. ‘Close your eyes, I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere,’

Stiles closed his eyes, the feeling of arms wrapping around him, holding him tight and keeping him warm, calmed his mind. The rush of cold water and the darkness that surrounded him, felt safe with Derek. He was content in this small safety, not thinking of how he would take his next breath, the thought or rather want for oxygen was devoid from his mind, he was warm and safe. He faded faster and faster into nothingness, the feeling of warmth and safety calmed all of his senses. Darkness was all that remained.

Chapter Text

Stiles opened his eyes. Derek was gone, he was alone in a dark place, grey sand covered the floor and a cold chill filled the air. The soft sound of sand shifting filled the room. He closed his eyes inhaling calmly. Slowly a house began to rise from the sand and light-flooded over stiles’ pale skin.
He stepped forward walking toward the house, voices echoed from within. Some he knew but others he was entirely foreign to, he paused in front of the deep cherry wood door, hand resting on the golden doorknob. He twisted the knob and entered into a large entryway, there was a staircase in front of him. A little girl rushed down the stairs and into his arms, her curly hair bouncing as she made her way toward him. The soft pitter-patter as little feet made their way around the corner as two more children emerged. He held tight to the little girl in his arms and walked toward the stumbling toddlers.
The little girl made her way around stiles latching onto his back, he scooped up the twins and continued through the house. “Claudia get back here, you didn’t help me finish cooking din...” Derek shouted but stumbled off as he saw Stiles enter the kitchen covered in children. Derek rolled his eyes before turning back to the stove, Stiles gently placed down the toddlers and Claudia jumped off his back. She hopped onto the counter, setting the recipe book in her lap and beginning to read aloud at an inaudible pace. Derek flashed his red eyes at her, defiantly she flashed her yellow ones.
Stiles smiled, she was so much like him, “Why don’t we get washed up, I’m sure he’s got it from here,” she jumped off the counter and raced up the stairs.
“She certainly is your daughter,” Derek laughed.
“And what’s that supposed to mean, sourwolf?”
“That she’s beautiful and that she’ll never listen to me or anyone else,” Derek took one of the twins from stiles, bouncing her on his hip. Talia laughed and squealed as Derek danced through the kitchen with her on his hip, Stiles swayed a sleepy Paige, while fondly watching his beautiful family. Stiles and Derek walked and placed the twins in their high chairs while Claudia waited impatiently at the table for dinner.
Stiles paused for a moment, admiring how beautiful she was, her eyes sparkled like deep golden honey, and her wild curls matched her wild personality. “Babe, can you tell Noah he can come downstairs, he’s not in trouble anymore,” Vaguely confused Stiles walked up the stairs, and toward the only shut door.
“Hey bud, dinner’s ready, come downstairs,” Noah opened the door, Stiles stepped back in awe, he looked nothing like his twin, his black hair and eyes contrasted his porcelain skin. Stiles picked his mini-me up and spun him around, trying to make the sad boy smile and laugh. His laughter filled Stiles’ ears and heart, his smile was so genuine and pure. They were both smiling when they took their place at the dinner table. Claudia poked at her food and glared at her brother across the wooden table before flashing her eyes at him. Stiles glared at his husband to do something when they began the stare-off.
Noah flashed his eyes, one was a luminous yellow, while the other was a sparkling grey. “Both of you stop right now,” Derek flashed his red eyes, calming both of the children. The rest of dinner was eaten in complete silence. Stiles took the toddlers to bed, while Derek and the older kids cleaned up the mess from dinner. Noah and Claudia chased each other up to bed, pushing and shoving each other. Derek sighed leaning against the kitchen counter, “Those two will be the death of me. You’d think Noah. Would be the trouble maker, but no Claudia is the true fox.”
Derek walked toward Stiles, wrapping his arms around his husband, resting his head on stiles’ shoulder. “I wished they never learned to display their eyes. Claudia’s wolf knows Noah is different, her eyes are a display of dominance. They just chase each other incessantly, they never get along, and I know its not entirely their fault, but it is exhausting,” Stiles rubbed Derek’s back as he listened.
Derek sighed as he lifted his head, listening to the children running around upstairs. “I’ve got this.” Stiles let go, walking up the stairs. The hall was a disaster, and the toddlers were also runnings around the upstairs, someone let them out of their room. “Claudia and Noah, get in bed right this instant,” Stiles stared directly at his children, his look of disapproval, outweighed the power of their other father’s alpha eyes. They stopped chasing each other, and slowly walked toward their rooms. Stiles scooped up the other two kids and gently took them back to their rooms. He closed the door softly, beginning to pick up the toys that were scattered around the floor, trying to clean as much as he could before Derek came upstairs.
Derek walked up the stairs, quietly wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist, and resting his head on Stiles’ shoulder. “We miss you when you’re gone,”
“I miss you too,” Stiles’ mind raced trying to figure out where he went and why he was going,”
The pair walked to bed, Stiles’ loved this life, it was his version of a happy ending, but he couldn’t remember how he got so lucky. He fell asleep wrapped in the arms of the man he loved, only awoken by the weight of two small children climbing on top of the couple. He smiled pulling, the girls close.