Sorry, I’m in a delay - again. XD And still, english is not my first language, so so sorry because of all the mistakes I made.
This one is a small nothing to @demisexualhale as a birthday gift. :) Happy birthday, Isaac! You’re a treasure to the fandom. :)
Post Season 3. :)
Stiles had nightmares since the Nogitsune. He saw himself in his dreams killing Allison again and again - in as many different ways as his exhausted and tortured mind could came up with. Sometimes he actually could feel how mesmerizing it was holding Lydia’s life in his hand. And sometimes his dreamy delusion-hazed mind was replaying the scene when he trusted the jetblack katana into Scott’s belly. He still could hear the sound of that disgusting twitch, which was caused by the blade as it twisted in his best friend’s body.
It was crazy, mindblowing, unnetural and …bad.
So he did the only thing what he could do the best: ignored the problems until they’d fly away.
Or they’d kill him.
It’s the same…
So finally Stiles chose to not sleep.
He collapsed during the third week. It was embarassing because he was in the old Hale-house helping to Derek to pursue an exorcism in a mad wreck-it-ralphys-ghost.
After the success of their teamework, as the adrenalin left his body, he lost his conscious just for waking up on one Derek Hale’s couch and sour-soullen face.
“Since when?” asked the werewolf with a very serious expression.
“Morning, sunshine to you too! If you just once managed to not look like a serial killer who lost his victim, than maybe the Earth would stop, but I could not wish to run marathon away from your eyebrows.” Stiles attacked immediately with his sarcasm just to cover up the real problem.
Derek lifted one of the mentioned organs.
“Since when?” He growled.
“Easy there, big guy! Just save your fangs.” The boy was playing nervously with the zipper of his red hoodie. “Since when, what?”
“Since when do you have nightmares like this hard? Since when you’re not sleeping?“ There was a heavy silence. “You were speaking. While you were knocked out.” He add slowly as an answer to Stiles’ shocked expression.
“It’s…going like this for a while. For weeks. But it’s okay, Derek, I can handle it. I just need some sleep, that’s all. You don’t need to be the knight with a shiny armor in a white horse. I’m not a damsel in trouble.”
“You just can’t sleep.”
“Yepp. See, it’s easy. I’m not like… eaten by a dragon. Or roasted by some evil troll. Or mojod into a frog by a crazy witch. Or something…”
Derek was ignoring his sass.
“Cut the shit, Stiles! You’re not sleeping because you think you’ll kill your friends, am I right?”
“Yes?” This was too honest, but the words just slipped out from his lips.
Derek was staring at Stiles for minutes before he grabbed the boy’s hand and started to guide him on the direction of the door.
“Why…Wha…? What the hell are you doing, Derek?”
“We’re going.” The werewolf stated this as the most obvious thing in the world. “To the mountains. You can sleep there, it’s quite.”
Stiles head was spinning, and it was not caused by the sleep deprivation or the fight of the day (because yeah, they reach that point they have shit like this). He was not understand what the man wants from him. Why he is doing this? Why he wants to help? He was confused, angry and huffy, so he stopped to challenege the wolf.
“Stop it! We can’t leave like this from nothing just because you want to replay the whole Tarzan thing with a hint of The Call of the Wild! I just can’t run away without a word, my dad would gone crazy! And seriously, when you just started worrying about me?” Stiles was yelling. “Just because… you know, last time I saved your ass, you left me without a thank you in the side of a pool!”
Derek just stood there awkwardly with a broken twinkle in his eyes.
“It was an asshole move. But let’s forget about it, i’m not the same person for a while.”
“Yes, you’re not. Yet, i still don’t understand why are you acting so weird? Why do you care?”
“It’s because… I just….” His cheeks turned into red, and he felt Stiles watchful eyes in his face. “That’s because I…”
He took a step to close the painful gap between them. He was kissing him first gently - light as a feather; than with more passion: as an act of someone who believe this is his final act, and wants to take what he could.
But Stiles was kissing him back. It was full of with teeth and tounge. It was sweet and crazy and intoxicating. Stiles got his answer.
It was nothing, and yet everything.
One week later
“Oh, god, how we ended like this?”
Stiles was leaning back to Derek’s werewolf-heated chest.
“I remember to one spookey ghost. And some yelling. And than you kissing me.” Derek chuckled, and planted a small kiss in Stiles’s right cheek.
“That was you, who kissed me firts, not-so-Sourwolf!” Stiles protested, and leaned back to the man’s chest.
He sinks into the perfect feeling of being with his wolf.
He enjoyed the view - beautiful mountains around them.
He felt as Derek was smiling into his neck - happy and calm, and peacful.
He could sense how their heart are beating the same rythm.