Impossible to Ignore. Part One
Title: Impossible to Ignore (Part 1/?)
Author: blushemphasises
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Warnings/Spoilers: Post-Season Two. Elements of spoilers for season 3.
Word Count: 1500~
Summary: Canon AU. Derek is cursed to appear dead. It doesn’t freak Stiles out half as much as it probably should because as Beacon Hills’ resident warlock, he’s on a personal mission to break the curse. In the meantime, Stiles discovers that the only way to communicate with Derek is through his dreams.
A/N: I started writing this late december 2012, so it contains a few of the hints/spoilers that were revealed. Since then, some of the hints have been cleared up, but I decided not to change anything though :) Title from the lyrics of Dreams by The Cranberries
On the night Derek finds out that Stiles practices magic, Derek doesn't really know what to do with the information.
Scott mentions it so casually, as if it were a common known fact. Derek honestly has no time to think about what Scott had said and it’s fair to say that he has other things to think about. The Alpha pack had taken Isaac, his last remaining beta, the only one who had stuck by him in the end. But now it seemed that Scott was willing to help, to come to Derek's side once more but only because the situation called for it.
Scott had agreed to help find Isaac and break him out of whatever place the Alphas were keeping him. Scott's help meant Stiles' help... which apparently meant magic.
"...Stiles says the spell will help him find where they kidnapped Isaac," Scott's tone is so obviously begrudging that Derek almost rolls his eyes. "So Stiles asked for something that's Isaac's so he can use a spell to track wherever he is." It's hard to ignore the way Scott's expression grows disdainful with each word.
"You don't like that Stiles is using magic.”
Scott hesitates and then nods, "He's only new at it. He thinks he can do a lot with it but even I know that magic isn't something you can play around with."
"This isn't playing around."
"I know that. I just," Scott clenches his hands into fists. "I'm worried it'll take too much energy out of him. He's just a beginner, so I don't want anyone taking advantage of him." He eyes Derek seriously, heavy with implication. Derek does roll his eyes this time.
“Isaac keeps his clothes in the bag upstairs. I'm sure you can sniff it out."
Derek turns his back on Scott, dismissing him.
"Derek, I have other things to take care of so you need to take the bag to Stiles.”
Derek doesn't really know what Scott would have to take care of that was more important than rescuing Isaac. He has a feeling that the Argent-girl was no longer in the equation and knowing Scott's tendencies to always be the hero, it was kind of off-putting that he wasn't stepping up to do everything.
"Stiles is expecting something before midnight, 'cause that's when he's doing the spell."
Once again, Derek has to fight the urge to ask how the hell Stiles Stilinski of all people had started practicing magic. He shakes his head as if to rid the question. If the answer is important, he’ll find out soon enough.
___
"Really? The front door?"
Stiles is wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of old jeans, which isn’t actually unusual. But what throws Derek off is the hair. It’s all grown-out and sticking up in tufts, which implies that Stiles has been running his hands through it. A lot. It only catches Derek off-guard because, has it really been this long since he last saw the kid? The last time Derek had seen Stiles up-close was probably the night Gerard was taken down and that had been almost a month ago. But he figures it had been a month since Derek has taken to avoiding town and in extent, avoiding Scott's pack. Ever since Jackson decided to leave town, there was really no need for Derek to interact with any of the high school kids anyway. The past month was dedicated to getting his alpha shit together and training Isaac. Sure, there were times his wolf howled for a larger pack now and again, like he howled for Boyd and Erica. But Derek figured these kids, including Scott and his pack, wanted nothing to do with Derek. So he left the matter alone.
“Hello? Earth-to-Derek?” A pair of hands waving at his face breaks Derek out of his thoughts. “Dude, you can’t just drag your werewolf ass to my font porch and then stare at me all zoned-out. Throw me a bone here.” Stiles snickers at his own joke, which besides being completely unnecessary and lame, doesn’t even make sense.
“I brought Isaac’s things.” Derek says instead of dignifying that with a proper response and pushes his way past Stiles and into the living room.
“Wha- Hey!” Derek can hear Stiles catching up to him as he heads up the stairs and towards Stiles’ bedroom. As soon as he steps inside the room, he’s hit with an overwhelming smell of herbs and his nose twitches a little at the hint of wolfsbane somewhere in the room. Because, right. Stiles practices magic. Derek ignores his senses, dumps Isaac’s bag on the bed unceremoniously and then crosses his arms.
“Is that all?” He asks, staring right at Stiles. Stiles gapes at him.
“First off, rude. Not even a ‘hey Stiles. How have you been this long and tedious summer?’And second, you can’t just come into my room uninvited, using the front door might I add. Jesus, what if my dad was home?” Now Stiles is crossing his arms.
“I could only hear one heartbeat and I knew it was yours,” Derek says, before realising that Stiles might ask why he can recognise Stiles’ heartbeat in the first place. It’s not a question Derek is willing to answer but it might have something to do with the two times he was paralysed, both while next to Stiles. Derek had been forced into memorising the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat in order to feel anchored. Or something like that.
Thankfully, Stiles has other things on his mind, he narrows his eyes at Derek. “Whatever. Sometimes I wish werewolves had to be invited into homes before they could barge in, like the vampires in The Vampire Diaries. I’m telling you, like 75 per cent of our problems involve werewolves or kanimas barging in and kidnapping people.”
Derek snorts, “This isn’t The Vampire Diaries, Stiles.”
“God, you think I don’t know that?” Stiles says, shaking his head. Derek watches as he picks up Isaac’s bag from his bed and rummages through the contents. “I guess in that scenario, I would be Bonnie the witch and be the go-to person who basically solves all your supernatural arses.”
It seems more like Stiles is talking to himself so Derek doesn’t bother answering. He isn’t going to admit that he might actually know what Stiles is rambling on about since Laura used to watch that crap sometimes. She would claim it was ‘for research purposes incase they got any of our lore right’ when actually she would sit down with a tub of ice-cream and watch marathons. Derek vaguely wonders if Stiles watched it for the same reasons, since he seems like the type of guy who goes all-out when researching.
“Okay, this should be enough.” Stiles says, wrinkling his nose at the bag. “It probably helps that you didn’t wash his clothes before bringing them, but dude, I’m not even the one with werewolf senses so I don’t know how you can handle the smell.”
Derek shrugs, he’s used to Isaac’s smell by now and it’s not like they had a washing machine in the Hale house anyway. The bag was where Isaac put his clothes after they finished training yesterday afternoon.
“Is that all?” Derek asks again.
“Yeah, yeah” Stiles heads towards his desk and waves a hand at him absentmindedly. “I, as the owner of the house, give you permission to see yourself out of my house.”
Derek snorts and heads out without replying. He’s at the stairs when Stiles pokes his head out, “Oh and remember, I’m doing the spell at midnight. I’ll probably do it at your place since my dad’ll be home tonight. I’ll be chanting freaky rituals and stuff, and my dad almost caught me twice. I’m sure he thinks I’m a part of some cult by now.” Stiles shrugs like it means nothing, his tone a little too nonchalant.
Derek was going to ask then, ask Stiles where he learnt his magic from. Figure out if Stiles knew all along, or he recently discovered his ability. If he was the type of warlock that Derek was familiar with or something entirely different. Not that Derek has much experience with warlocks anyway. All he knows is that they’re rare and that the magic is passed down through genes appearing every once in a while throughout generations. His only recalling of any magical being is a vague memory of a witch who had come to the house to discuss some territory issues with the Hale pack. Derek was young, so he doesn’t remember her face. But he doesremember the young wolf inside of him feeling unease at the presence of a someone with so much power, he could sense the electricity coming off of her in waves. He remembers feeling a little afraid of not knowing what the witch was capable of.
He looks at Stiles, who still had tufts of hairs sticking out in every direction. Stiles, who was staring right back at him.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Derek says finally, after they had stared at each other for what was probably longer than socially acceptable, not that Derek particularly cares.
“I do,” Stiles replies, almost immediately. He doesn’t waver, he doesn’t say anything else. So Derek nods and heads down the stairs. There are a few hours left till midnight.
Author: blushemphasises
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Warnings/Spoilers: Post-Season Two. Elements of spoilers for season 3.
Word Count: 1500~
Summary: Canon AU. Derek is cursed to appear dead. It doesn’t freak Stiles out half as much as it probably should because as Beacon Hills’ resident warlock, he’s on a personal mission to break the curse. In the meantime, Stiles discovers that the only way to communicate with Derek is through his dreams.
A/N: I started writing this late december 2012, so it contains a few of the hints/spoilers that were revealed. Since then, some of the hints have been cleared up, but I decided not to change anything though :) Title from the lyrics of Dreams by The Cranberries
On the night Derek finds out that Stiles practices magic, Derek doesn't really know what to do with the information.
Scott mentions it so casually, as if it were a common known fact. Derek honestly has no time to think about what Scott had said and it’s fair to say that he has other things to think about. The Alpha pack had taken Isaac, his last remaining beta, the only one who had stuck by him in the end. But now it seemed that Scott was willing to help, to come to Derek's side once more but only because the situation called for it.
Scott had agreed to help find Isaac and break him out of whatever place the Alphas were keeping him. Scott's help meant Stiles' help... which apparently meant magic.
"...Stiles says the spell will help him find where they kidnapped Isaac," Scott's tone is so obviously begrudging that Derek almost rolls his eyes. "So Stiles asked for something that's Isaac's so he can use a spell to track wherever he is." It's hard to ignore the way Scott's expression grows disdainful with each word.
"You don't like that Stiles is using magic.”
Scott hesitates and then nods, "He's only new at it. He thinks he can do a lot with it but even I know that magic isn't something you can play around with."
"This isn't playing around."
"I know that. I just," Scott clenches his hands into fists. "I'm worried it'll take too much energy out of him. He's just a beginner, so I don't want anyone taking advantage of him." He eyes Derek seriously, heavy with implication. Derek does roll his eyes this time.
“Isaac keeps his clothes in the bag upstairs. I'm sure you can sniff it out."
Derek turns his back on Scott, dismissing him.
"Derek, I have other things to take care of so you need to take the bag to Stiles.”
Derek doesn't really know what Scott would have to take care of that was more important than rescuing Isaac. He has a feeling that the Argent-girl was no longer in the equation and knowing Scott's tendencies to always be the hero, it was kind of off-putting that he wasn't stepping up to do everything.
"Stiles is expecting something before midnight, 'cause that's when he's doing the spell."
Once again, Derek has to fight the urge to ask how the hell Stiles Stilinski of all people had started practicing magic. He shakes his head as if to rid the question. If the answer is important, he’ll find out soon enough.
___
"Really? The front door?"
Stiles is wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of old jeans, which isn’t actually unusual. But what throws Derek off is the hair. It’s all grown-out and sticking up in tufts, which implies that Stiles has been running his hands through it. A lot. It only catches Derek off-guard because, has it really been this long since he last saw the kid? The last time Derek had seen Stiles up-close was probably the night Gerard was taken down and that had been almost a month ago. But he figures it had been a month since Derek has taken to avoiding town and in extent, avoiding Scott's pack. Ever since Jackson decided to leave town, there was really no need for Derek to interact with any of the high school kids anyway. The past month was dedicated to getting his alpha shit together and training Isaac. Sure, there were times his wolf howled for a larger pack now and again, like he howled for Boyd and Erica. But Derek figured these kids, including Scott and his pack, wanted nothing to do with Derek. So he left the matter alone.
“Hello? Earth-to-Derek?” A pair of hands waving at his face breaks Derek out of his thoughts. “Dude, you can’t just drag your werewolf ass to my font porch and then stare at me all zoned-out. Throw me a bone here.” Stiles snickers at his own joke, which besides being completely unnecessary and lame, doesn’t even make sense.
“I brought Isaac’s things.” Derek says instead of dignifying that with a proper response and pushes his way past Stiles and into the living room.
“Wha- Hey!” Derek can hear Stiles catching up to him as he heads up the stairs and towards Stiles’ bedroom. As soon as he steps inside the room, he’s hit with an overwhelming smell of herbs and his nose twitches a little at the hint of wolfsbane somewhere in the room. Because, right. Stiles practices magic. Derek ignores his senses, dumps Isaac’s bag on the bed unceremoniously and then crosses his arms.
“Is that all?” He asks, staring right at Stiles. Stiles gapes at him.
“First off, rude. Not even a ‘hey Stiles. How have you been this long and tedious summer?’And second, you can’t just come into my room uninvited, using the front door might I add. Jesus, what if my dad was home?” Now Stiles is crossing his arms.
“I could only hear one heartbeat and I knew it was yours,” Derek says, before realising that Stiles might ask why he can recognise Stiles’ heartbeat in the first place. It’s not a question Derek is willing to answer but it might have something to do with the two times he was paralysed, both while next to Stiles. Derek had been forced into memorising the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat in order to feel anchored. Or something like that.
Thankfully, Stiles has other things on his mind, he narrows his eyes at Derek. “Whatever. Sometimes I wish werewolves had to be invited into homes before they could barge in, like the vampires in The Vampire Diaries. I’m telling you, like 75 per cent of our problems involve werewolves or kanimas barging in and kidnapping people.”
Derek snorts, “This isn’t The Vampire Diaries, Stiles.”
“God, you think I don’t know that?” Stiles says, shaking his head. Derek watches as he picks up Isaac’s bag from his bed and rummages through the contents. “I guess in that scenario, I would be Bonnie the witch and be the go-to person who basically solves all your supernatural arses.”
It seems more like Stiles is talking to himself so Derek doesn’t bother answering. He isn’t going to admit that he might actually know what Stiles is rambling on about since Laura used to watch that crap sometimes. She would claim it was ‘for research purposes incase they got any of our lore right’ when actually she would sit down with a tub of ice-cream and watch marathons. Derek vaguely wonders if Stiles watched it for the same reasons, since he seems like the type of guy who goes all-out when researching.
“Okay, this should be enough.” Stiles says, wrinkling his nose at the bag. “It probably helps that you didn’t wash his clothes before bringing them, but dude, I’m not even the one with werewolf senses so I don’t know how you can handle the smell.”
Derek shrugs, he’s used to Isaac’s smell by now and it’s not like they had a washing machine in the Hale house anyway. The bag was where Isaac put his clothes after they finished training yesterday afternoon.
“Is that all?” Derek asks again.
“Yeah, yeah” Stiles heads towards his desk and waves a hand at him absentmindedly. “I, as the owner of the house, give you permission to see yourself out of my house.”
Derek snorts and heads out without replying. He’s at the stairs when Stiles pokes his head out, “Oh and remember, I’m doing the spell at midnight. I’ll probably do it at your place since my dad’ll be home tonight. I’ll be chanting freaky rituals and stuff, and my dad almost caught me twice. I’m sure he thinks I’m a part of some cult by now.” Stiles shrugs like it means nothing, his tone a little too nonchalant.
Derek was going to ask then, ask Stiles where he learnt his magic from. Figure out if Stiles knew all along, or he recently discovered his ability. If he was the type of warlock that Derek was familiar with or something entirely different. Not that Derek has much experience with warlocks anyway. All he knows is that they’re rare and that the magic is passed down through genes appearing every once in a while throughout generations. His only recalling of any magical being is a vague memory of a witch who had come to the house to discuss some territory issues with the Hale pack. Derek was young, so he doesn’t remember her face. But he doesremember the young wolf inside of him feeling unease at the presence of a someone with so much power, he could sense the electricity coming off of her in waves. He remembers feeling a little afraid of not knowing what the witch was capable of.
He looks at Stiles, who still had tufts of hairs sticking out in every direction. Stiles, who was staring right back at him.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Derek says finally, after they had stared at each other for what was probably longer than socially acceptable, not that Derek particularly cares.
“I do,” Stiles replies, almost immediately. He doesn’t waver, he doesn’t say anything else. So Derek nods and heads down the stairs. There are a few hours left till midnight.