That Which You Cannot Undo by: uraneia
Because the man standing on Stiles’s front porch is easily the most attractive person Stiles has ever laid eyes on. Cheekbones like cut glass. Stubble so even you could sand a canoe. Dark hair, straight nose, eyes like a watercolor painting. He looks kinda pissed. Stiles thinks, Damn, I wish I’d put on real pants.
Then he gets a hit of the guy’s aura and makes time for even more regrets.
Before he even knows it’s a tell he’s stepping back, already calling on his spark, letting power gather at his fingertips, though Goddess knows he can’t pull enough to put down a werewolf. Not one this powerful. The taste of all that strength is fresh, simmering just beneath the surface.
Stiles can see the second the guy figures out he’s a witch. His nostrils twitch and his eyes flash red.
But he doesn’t look angry anymore. In fact, he just seems… surprised. “Uh,” he says as his eyes fade back to green-brown. “Hi.”
Stiles lets the magic dissipate. It takes the last of his headache with it, and he curses himself for not thinking of that earlier. A little adrenaline rush goes a long way. “Hi,” he parrots. “Um. So you’re a werewolf.”
The man nods. “And you’re a mage.”
With a snort, Stiles corrects the word. “A witch. I’m far too young to be a mage.”
That earns him a curious look, but the guy doesn’t ask for elaboration. “My name is Derek Hale. I’m looking for Dr. Martin.”
Of course. A ridiculously hot werewolf shows up on Stiles’s doorstep. Who else would he be there for? “Well, you’d better come in, then,” he says. He’s wary, but he doesn’t actually sense any malicious intent. “Have you eaten breakfast?”
By twenty-eight, Stiles has resigned himself to a quiet life of working in his magic shop, selling Jackson Whittemore fart-inducing tea, and looking after his goddaughter. It’s a good life. But the quiet goes to hell when his sister, Lydia, shows up with a crispy werewolf in her trunk and a bite mark on her shoulder, because hard on her heels comes the hottest person Stiles has ever seen, and he happens to be looking for his uncle.
You know, the dead guy Stiles helped Lydia bury last night.
(Or: the Pracitical Magic AU nobody asked for.)