Scott stared down at their newest member of the pack, a small wolf pup that Derek had found near it’s dead mother when on a quick trip up North, he hadn’t been able to find the rest of the pack. The pup had quickly wormed his way into everyone’s hearts and was beyond spoiled by Stiles, its main caretaker.
Stiles had a pack full of toys and the necessities to care for the pup in his hands, looking earnestly at the two of them. Scott shared a look with Isaac.
Jumping to the subject, Stiles thrust the bag into Scott’s arms and said, “ALRIGHT, so as you know, I’m going camping with my dad, and Derek says he has a meeting-thing to go to-.”
Lie. Scott shot Derek a look as the Alpha glared. Isaac barely held back a smile.
“So, since neither of us can watch the little guy, you two will have to.”
“Why can’t Lydia, or Allison, or Boyd?” Scott asked. “You know how my mom is with pets.”
“Yes, that’s why he’s staying with Isaac, here,” Stiles replied, grinning. Isaac crouched down to pet the puppy at his feet. “Allison and Lydia are both on the prom council and they’re busy right now, and Boyd is too busy with work to be caring for a puppy.”
Scott nodded slightly, “Alright…”
“Great, I’ve got to go finish packing and…I really don’t know what Derek’s doing, but he’s got to go, too?” Stiles turned to look at Derek and turned back to Scott with a shrug. “Have fun!” he added as he left.
Isaac grinned at Derek, “So…another trip? Just as Stiles is going camping? What a coincidence.”
Derek gave Isaac a sarcastic smile. “Shut up,” and turned to leave.
Scott went around to Derek’s and found Isaac sitting in middle of a mess of feathers. “What happened?”
“We were playing, and then he went for a pillow and I said ‘no’ and he kind of gave me this look and then he ran at me and then I tried pulling it away but wolf teeth so it tore and and…” he trailed off, looking at Scott with wide eyes. “He ran off to another room and I just…”
“Wow,” Scott could barely hold back the smile. “Well…let’s find him, and then clean up?” Isaac nodded his agreement and Scott pulled him to his feet.
He wakes up in a hospital with the taste of blood in his mouth. He blinks against the dark of his room and moves his fingers, then hands, arms, and stares at them for a bit before surveying his room. It’s dark, like he first noticed, but there’s the ever present beeping of his heart monitor and a low light from under the room’s door. Clearing his throat hurts but he ignores the pain to address the man lying across his legs. Nothing. Again, this time with a jiggle of his leg. It seems to jar the other and in a second, he’s staring into wide eyes that don’t seem to believe what they’re seeing. Him, he guesses.
“Hello,” his voice is scratchy—probably from disuse, but it could be natural as well.
He stares at the other, “That is my name?” he seemed thoughtful. “Cas…” he let’s it roll off his tongue and nods. “Who are you?” he asked after a moment of silence between them, where the stranger seemed to go through multiple panicked expressions.
“Dean—I’m Dean…you don’t remember me?” he asked slowly.
He stares at Dean for a second before saying, “No,” and “I’m sorry.”
Dean doesn’t look as crestfallen as he would’ve thought. “That’s okay—you’ve lost your memory once, you can remember me again,” he says resolutely with a head nod. “We can help you remember at the Lair.”
“Lair.” He repeats, eyebrow raising in question. Briefly, he wondered what their occupation was that he would lose his memory and they lived in a ‘lair’.
“Yeah, I’ll tell you all the things you won’t want to remember.” Dean says it so aloof, with a carefree grin that barely hides the pain. He nods at the other and looks down at himself. “Oh, right, here.” Dean goes to the cupboards in the corner and take clothing and shoes out, handing it to him. “We gotta get going soon…” he added as he stepped away, towards the curtain that cuts his part of the room off from the rest of the occupants.
Over and over, his fists connected with the bleeding alpha’s face. He knew he wasn’t doing much damage, that the pain was only temporary and that once he tired, the alpha would heal and he would be overcome. He finds it a miracle the alpha hasn’t tried fighting against the already weakening bonds that hold him to the ground, but Stiles isn’t about to complain.
Only another little bit until Derek and the rest of the pack reach them, only a few more minutes and he can stop the assault that’s left his knuckles bloody and aching.
Only a moment until he can stop.
“I never want to get married.”
Scott looked to Isla with confusion written across his face. “Why not?” he asked as he looked away from her face, back to the sky they were currently staring at.
She shrugged. “I just feels like it’d be suffocating.”
Scott nodded slightly and said, “Huh,” they fell back into a silence that only broke when Scott said, “Do you think werewolves mate for life?”
Isla made a face and shrugged. “I hope not.”
“That’s a bit sad.”
“That cloud looks like a meatball.”
“A lot of clouds do.”
“I think I’m just hungry, wanna get a meatball sandwich?” he asked as he sat up. She nodded and followed his lead.
“I really don’t like this werewolf crap.”
Isla looked at him from over her textbook. “Why not?”
“The wolf in you, brings out the-.”
“Please don’t finish that, it sounds like a song I heard once.”
Scott gave her a confused look, complete with head tilt. “What?”
“The woman in you, brings out the man in me?” She quoted, eyebrows raised. “Anyways, that can’t be the real reason you hate this werewolf stuff—don’t front, you just hate having to do research instead of getting Stiles to do it.”
Scott sighed dramatically as he dropped the large tomb onto the table, “He’s just gotten so distracted by Derek lately, and I really don’t get it.”
“It is weird,” Isla agreed, nodding. “So, sprites can be little shits.”
“Tell me about it.”
“That was a bitch move.”
“I know right?”
“Who does that and then says ‘nope never mind not worth it’?”
“Tell me about it! He was crying,” Scott said with a sigh. “I mean, I just—why is Derek being a buttface?”
“Got me.” Isla shrugged her shoulders. They sat in silence for a few more moments. “Stiles wanted to marry Derek—marry him—and then…I don’t know, I’m too out of my element in this.”
“You still don’t want to get married?”
“So Derek being a jerkface is entirely explainable in 10 words or less!”
Scott turned to her with a sigh and looked expectant. Stiles resolutely was not listening and was reading the books Deaton had given him with a concentration that made Scott’s head hurt from just looking at him.
Isla looked between the two and waved her hands about, looking excited. “He. Came. Into. Contact. With. The. Sprites.”
Scott looked confused. “What?”
“Sprites only mess with people when they’re mean to them—who is the resident grumpy werewolf in Beacon Hills?” Isla waved her hands around. “We just gotta go and apologize and then Derek will be back to his old self—the one who likes Stiles.”
Stiles huffed but dropped the book he was reading and walked to the door. The two followed after.
“I cannot believe they bound us together.”
Isla snorted. “You can’t?”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Okay, I can, but why us? Why isn’t Stiles tied up to us? He’s the one who went and yelled at the Sprite-king-person. We just stood there.”
“They said we needed to be shown something—maybe this is like a…you got lucky punishment, or something?” she tried. When Scott continued looking dubious, she rolled her eyes and waved her hands about. “Whatever, it’s not like we can’t leave each other’s sides or anything,” they had been told that they were not attached, but they’d have an itch they couldn’t scratch if they were too far apart for any amount of time. “And besides, Stiles and Derek are back together and being sickeningly weird.” They were never sickeningly sweet, unless you caught them watching a movie together or doing something domestic, but that’s besides her point.
Scott sighed but nodded his agreement. “Fine, yes, okay but what do we do about this?” he asked, waving between them.
“Act like nothings changed and use the bathroom as quickly as we can.”
“I’m getting weird looks,” Scott muttered. He heard Isla laugh from the girls’ bathroom at the college. Another girl passed, giving Scott the stink eye. “I just got the stink eye!” Another laugh. He nearly sagged with relief when he heard the toilet flush.
“Keep your panties on, I’m almost done,” Isla said quietly as she washed her hands. She opened the door and watched with amusement as Scott fell backwards and onto his butt.
“Cook with me or so help me God, I will murder you.”
Isla looked surprised but joined Scott in the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”
“This damned itching has not stopped once since you went to class! It’s driving me insane!”
“Oh,” Isla made a noise and then asked. “So what are we making?”
“My mom asked if we’re together.”
“And what did you say?” Isla asked.
Isla grinned in response. “What did she say?”
Scott made a face and his voice went high as he quoted his mom, “That’s too bad, Isla is a lovely girl and I want grand babies, Scott, grand babies.”
“You gotta admit, we would have adorable children.”
Scott made a humming sound and said, “As long as they look like me as a werewolf, I think we’d be fine.”
Isla opened her mouth, closed it, then said, “Rude,” before walking away, only to return a moment later with a glare and muttered, “Fucking itching.”
Scott awkwardly patted her shoulder and said, “Sorry.”
“I hate Sprites.”
“I’m sure the industry won’t miss you.”
“No—shut up, you know I meant the creature things,” Scott said with a laugh. “You can’t be telling me this isn’t bothering you?” he asked. “We’ve been stuck together for the better half of 5 months—the only reason we’re not going crazy is because we both decided to stay in Beacon Hills!”
Isla shrugged and said, “We should try to learn their lesson if it’s bothering you so much.”
Scott sighed and fell into the seat beside her. “You’re the one saying you don’t want to be tied to one person, why isn’t this bothering you more?”
Isla shrugged. “I don’t know—I’m used to you?” she gave him a quick grin and added, “My wolf doesn’t mind you, either.”
“I think the bond is broken!”
“Did it really take you this long to figure it out?” Isla asked as she watched Scott exit the bathroom in nothing but his towel. She buried herself under the covers to her bed and yawned. “We’ve been together for two weeks and you’re finally noticing?”
“Hey, the only time we’ve been apart was when we have classes, and I’m too focused on those to notice anything!”
“Yeah, sure,” Isla yawned again and pulled the blanket aside. “Get back in bed before I kick you out of my room.”
Scott complied by falling into the bed and pulling Isla against him. “So do you want to get married?”
Summary: Stiles accidentally magics and is sent back pre-Hale Fire
He’s going to kill Deaton when he finds him. Kill him dead. Why? If it wasn’t for Deaton giving him the book, and telling him how much of a ‘spark’ he had for things, and sending him off with nothing more than the instructions to ‘read up’, then he probably wouldn’t be in this mess.
‘This mess’ is being stranded in the forest at night, staring at a much younger looking Peter Hale.
Summary: After a string of horribly thought out blind dates, Stiles and Derek kind of fall in love.
Or the one where all their friends are horrible at matchmaking. Even Erica, with her subliminal messaging on the breadsticks.
He had to break down on his way home from a rave, at 8 in the morning, didn’t he? One, his dad is probably going to kill him, and two, he is far too hung over and dead to even think of hanging out a garage. He curses Ellen (named aptly after one of the fiercest females on Supernatural, thank you very much) and falls against her steering wheel. “Whyyyyy?” he whined as he fumbled with his phone.
He scrambled through his Yelp app to find a garage that would be open and sighed loudly as only one in the area was. Hale Mechanics. Calling, he waited for a few rings until a smooth voice asked, “Hale Mechanics, what can I do for you?”
“Sound more jovial?” Stiles tried before sighing. “I broke down—do you have a tow truck or do I have to call a company and get them to bring her to you?”
“Where are you?”
Not much more joy in the guy’s voice. He squinted through his windshield. “On the corner of Fourth and something—probably close to Main…I don’t know…let me check…” he fell out of the jeep and walked to the corner, glaring at the sign. “Fourth and Gerard.”
“I can be there in twenty minutes. Wait by—what is it?”
“A blue Jeep.”
“Wait by the Jeep.”
“Yessir,” Stiles made his way back to the jeep, got into the front and fell against the steering wheel again.
Twenty minutes later, he jerked awake at tapping on his window. He squinted before rolling his window down, “Yeah?”
“Hale mechanics.” The hot—extremely hot—guy said coolly. He looked bored.
“OH,” Stiles nodded and went to open the door, shooing the guy away. “I’m Stiles, this is Ellen, and you are…?”
“Nice,” Stiles nodded his head, despite the pounding. “Listen, I just came from a rave-.”
“Couldn’t tell with all the glitter.”
“Right? Friends—Lydia and Allison—thought it accentuated my finer qualities…never really worked considering I didn’t hook up with anyone, but they did—mind, it was with my best friend and this douche we know from school, but what ya gonna do about it?” he shrugged. “Anyways, I was saying, I just got back from said rave, and my head is pounding, and I’m probably grounded if my dad finds out, so if we could keep this quiet—in both ways, then that’d be great.”
Derek raised an eyebrow at him and pressed the button for the hydraulics for the winch. Stiles cringed at the loud whirring sound as his jeep was pulled onto the flatbed.
“I hate you so hard,” he said with a grim face.
“Right,” Derek stepped onto the bed, pulled the cord from the holder and continued on with loading the jeep. He ignored Stiles’ pained look, but nodded his head to the cab of the truck. “Come on, then,” he said as he finished up. Stiles gratefully climbed into the truck and face planted the window. “Don’t fall asleep,” Derek grumbled as they pulled onto the road.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stiles waved him off with a yawn. “Wake me up when we get there? I just need a nap!” he said with a grin.
Derek glared at him but made no move to keep him awake.
“He had it coming, he had it coming, he had it coming all along…” Stiles bobbed his head to the song he was singing under his breath as he stirred the pot of soup he was making.
He looked up and raised his eyebrows at Derek. Derek sighed at him but didn’t say anything else. “I’m singing while I cook for your pack, Derek. Go outside if that bothers you so much,” he said, pointing the spoon towards the entrance to the kitchen.
“It’s the song you’re singing, with the people in the room, that’s bugging me,” Derek replied testily.
He looked at the two behind him. “It’s Isaac and Peter,” he said flatly. “In no way am I directing this song at Isaac, and if I was directing it towards Peter, can you really blame me?” Stiles waved his spoon around, letting broth fly about. “Have you seen Supernatural? Dead things should stay dead!”
“I’m wounded, Stiles,” Peter said with an eye roll. He went back to reading the newspaper Stiles picked up that morning.
“I thought the brothers get brought back to life all the time…” Isaac intoned.
“Not helping, Isaac,” Stiles said with a glare. Isaac shrugged and went back to his homework. Stiles turned back to the stove and stirred the soup. “He took a flower in its prime, and then he used it, and he abused it, it was a murder, but not a crime…” he hummed as he listened to the newspaper crinkle and smirked to himself.
I REALLY HATE POSTING TO THE WRONG BLOG GDI
When the anger starts to slip, and when he’s tired of being angry, he has to remember the fire. The reason he is angry. The reason there was a fire in the first place. He has to remind himself that it was his fault that his family was killed in that fire, has to remind himself that if he wasn’t such a stupid, love struck fool, he’d have noticed that Kate wasn’t as sweet, or caring, or even liked him as much as he had deluded him into thinking.
It’s especially hard to remember that when Stiles is there, talking to him, trying to get him to talk and it hurts. It’s like pulling teeth to get him to talk, so he doesn’t. He has to listen to Stiles talk. Talk about his mom, how she died, how he had panic attacks, and how he still blames himself for her dying.
He doesn’t know why, but that makes him look at Stiles. This rambunctious, loud, annoyingly happy kid, who isn’t as happy as he thought. “My family died because of me,” and he doesn’t know why he’s telling Stiles this. Doesn’t know why his chest doesn’t feel as tight. And certainly doesn’t know why Stiles is staring at him in that unfamiliar way.
“Probably.” That one word feels like it punched a hole right through his chest, and he’d know how that felt, having felt it first hand by Peter. But Stiles continues talking, “It is my fault my mom died, too—she got the cold from me, you know? Refused to let me go while I was sick, and then the cold escalated into bacterial pneumonia, and she had a crappy immune system as it was, so…she kind of…fact is, it’s my fault.” He’s playing with the hem of his shirt with a frown on his face. “But I guess I dealt with it better?” he looked at Derek. “Just because it’s probably your fault, by association of psycho-Kate, doesn’t mean you have to let it stop you from living, or from trusting people,” he said with a shrug.
Derek didn’t respond, not even when Stiles stood from the floor of his still abandoned, charred house, and left.
He may not be alone in the crippling guilt of a loved one’s death, but he still had to remember. He still had to hold onto his anger when nothing else seemed to be going his way, because anger was always his constant. So he remembered.
Summary: “When snack time comes around, you come as soon as I call you, or I get your juice box and you eat the veggies by themselves.”
“That’s diabolical,” Derek said.
Stiles snorted. “That’s the point.”
Warnings: Very briefly mentions past child abuse
Mostly based off this brilliant fanart
sorry I linked it to my reblog but I’m a lazy SOB