Ficlet: in the sea of strangers
Author: froggydarren
Title: in the sea of strangers
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek, Stiles, Cora
Summary: It's a new beginning, sort of. Derek's back in New York, in the place he used to live in with Laura, but everything is different. He has Cora now, and he's about to ring in a new year, which will hopefully be the start of all the good things.
Warnings: mild S6 spoiler
Content Notes: post-S6 (what we know of it now)
Submission Type: ficlet
Word Count: 999
Prompt: #197 - Masks
Author's Notes: Whoops, I almost forgot to post this. Yay hotel internet allowing me to make it on time. Unbetaed.
It was Cora’s idea to go out for the party. They’d been in New York for a few years, in the old apartment where Derek had lived with Laura after the fire. Cora had been the one to find him, had come back to the country to Derek’s surprise. When he’d left her in South America, with the pack she’d lived with before the Alpha pack had found her, he’d thought that she’d stay there for good.
They still felt bound to each other though, and while they weren’t a proper pack and had no Alpha, Cora seemed happy. Derek was content too -- having a family member nearby grounded him in ways that nothing else could.
Still, there were limits to what social interaction he could handle, and going out to a party for New Year celebrations was skirting the lines of “too much”. Cora wanted to go though, and she pleaded long enough that he gave in. There were enough people around the area that he was afraid of being roped into conversations and catching up with Laura’s old friends. However, the party turned out to require masks. Derek wasn’t sure of the point because most people there were werewolves and could recognise each other by scent. It didn’t take long for small groups of acquaintances to form, and Cora left him to talk to some guy from a local pack who was the reason for her insistence that they go to the party in the first place.
There were enough humans that the masks provided at least some anonymity, and Derek found a quiet corner where no one seemed eager to bother him. He was on his second bottle of wolfsbane-infused beer when the scent reached him. The beer was strong enough to make him think he was hallucinating at first -- he knew some strains that came with unpleasant side-effects so it wasn’t totally odd to think that he was imagining things.
Stiles, he thought, his mind reeling at the amount of memories and feelings the name alone brought up.
Derek didn’t move, but he paid more attention to the people in the room, looking for anything familiar in their movements. He didn’t know why Stiles would be in the city, or that it was a possibility, which he knew was crazy because Stiles could’ve been anywhere in the world. Scott was keeping Cora and Derek in the loop on anything major, and at some point Stiles dropped out of the mentions, which was odd. Derek didn’t question it much -- he tried once, and Scott answered completely around the question, like Derek was asking about a stranger. Figuring that Scott and Stiles must have grown apart, he didn’t question it then. After all, most of Scott’s pack graduated, and they were all over the country anyway.
But here, at a party specifically organised by local New York packs, the distinct scent of Stiles was getting closer with every minute. Derek didn’t see anyone familiar at first, and then Cora returned from whatever she was up to.
“Did you see Stiles?” Derek asked her over the noise of the music, and he watched her frown in confusion at the question.
“Who?” Cora asked back, like he was speaking of someone she didn’t remember or know at all.
It wasn’t strange, Derek knew that she’d barely interacted with Stiles back in Beacon Hills, but there was an odd edge to her question that unsettled him. She got pulled away moments later, before he could figure out what it was that bugged him, and Derek turned back to the room because the scent got stronger again. Then, just as he was starting to question his sanity completely, Stiles appeared. Sure, he was wearing a mask like everyone else, but the scent was unmistakable, as were the brown eyes visible between what looked like an old Halloween costume prop.
“Stiles,” Derek said quietly.
It should’ve been too low for anyone to hear. But Stiles’ head snapped to Derek, their eyes meeting over the shoulder of the person Stiles was talking to. Seconds later, Derek’s arms were full of Stiles, and he was enveloped in a hug like he hadn’t gotten in way too long. He grabbed Stiles’ side with his beer-free hand to keep them both from losing balance.
“Derek,” Stiles breathed out next to Derek’s ear. “Fuck, Derek, you…”
He paused then, and scrambled away from the hug, leaving Derek surprised. The black mask Stiles was wearing had come off during the hug.
“Wait, you…” Stiles said, and his eyes dropped down to where Derek’s hand was still on his hip.
“Stiles, what are you doing here?” Derek asked, and he watched Stiles’ eyes widen in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
“You remember me.” Stiles said, almost reverently, like it was something shocking.
“Of course I do,” Derek told him, and he felt Stiles start shaking.
“Holy shit, you do. I didn’t think… holy crap,” Stiles blurted, making absolutely no sense at all.
Before Derek could ask any more, Stiles hugged him again, and held on like Derek was his lifeline.
It took hours of explanations, of Stiles talking about everything that happened in Beacon Hills and how he’d been taken by Ghost Riders who ripped them away from the town and out of everyone’s memories. Derek listened and didn’t miss the little slump of disappointment when Stiles mentioned someone called Peter who helped him get away from the Riders, though it didn’t restore the memory of him. It seemed like Derek should know who Peter was, but he had no idea.
“I don’t know why you do remember me,” Stiles said when he finished his explanation. “But I’m glad you do.”
“I could never forget you,” Derek said, and his ears burned at the confession.
Stiles’ hand found Derek’s, and he leaned against Derek’s shoulder, the gesture both oddly comfortable and surprising.
“I’m glad,” Stiles said, his voice soft. “Of all the people who could remember me, I’m glad it’s you.”
Title: in the sea of strangers
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek, Stiles, Cora
Summary: It's a new beginning, sort of. Derek's back in New York, in the place he used to live in with Laura, but everything is different. He has Cora now, and he's about to ring in a new year, which will hopefully be the start of all the good things.
Warnings: mild S6 spoiler
Content Notes: post-S6 (what we know of it now)
Submission Type: ficlet
Word Count: 999
Prompt: #197 - Masks
Author's Notes: Whoops, I almost forgot to post this. Yay hotel internet allowing me to make it on time. Unbetaed.
It was Cora’s idea to go out for the party. They’d been in New York for a few years, in the old apartment where Derek had lived with Laura after the fire. Cora had been the one to find him, had come back to the country to Derek’s surprise. When he’d left her in South America, with the pack she’d lived with before the Alpha pack had found her, he’d thought that she’d stay there for good.
They still felt bound to each other though, and while they weren’t a proper pack and had no Alpha, Cora seemed happy. Derek was content too -- having a family member nearby grounded him in ways that nothing else could.
Still, there were limits to what social interaction he could handle, and going out to a party for New Year celebrations was skirting the lines of “too much”. Cora wanted to go though, and she pleaded long enough that he gave in. There were enough people around the area that he was afraid of being roped into conversations and catching up with Laura’s old friends. However, the party turned out to require masks. Derek wasn’t sure of the point because most people there were werewolves and could recognise each other by scent. It didn’t take long for small groups of acquaintances to form, and Cora left him to talk to some guy from a local pack who was the reason for her insistence that they go to the party in the first place.
There were enough humans that the masks provided at least some anonymity, and Derek found a quiet corner where no one seemed eager to bother him. He was on his second bottle of wolfsbane-infused beer when the scent reached him. The beer was strong enough to make him think he was hallucinating at first -- he knew some strains that came with unpleasant side-effects so it wasn’t totally odd to think that he was imagining things.
Stiles, he thought, his mind reeling at the amount of memories and feelings the name alone brought up.
Derek didn’t move, but he paid more attention to the people in the room, looking for anything familiar in their movements. He didn’t know why Stiles would be in the city, or that it was a possibility, which he knew was crazy because Stiles could’ve been anywhere in the world. Scott was keeping Cora and Derek in the loop on anything major, and at some point Stiles dropped out of the mentions, which was odd. Derek didn’t question it much -- he tried once, and Scott answered completely around the question, like Derek was asking about a stranger. Figuring that Scott and Stiles must have grown apart, he didn’t question it then. After all, most of Scott’s pack graduated, and they were all over the country anyway.
But here, at a party specifically organised by local New York packs, the distinct scent of Stiles was getting closer with every minute. Derek didn’t see anyone familiar at first, and then Cora returned from whatever she was up to.
“Did you see Stiles?” Derek asked her over the noise of the music, and he watched her frown in confusion at the question.
“Who?” Cora asked back, like he was speaking of someone she didn’t remember or know at all.
It wasn’t strange, Derek knew that she’d barely interacted with Stiles back in Beacon Hills, but there was an odd edge to her question that unsettled him. She got pulled away moments later, before he could figure out what it was that bugged him, and Derek turned back to the room because the scent got stronger again. Then, just as he was starting to question his sanity completely, Stiles appeared. Sure, he was wearing a mask like everyone else, but the scent was unmistakable, as were the brown eyes visible between what looked like an old Halloween costume prop.
“Stiles,” Derek said quietly.
It should’ve been too low for anyone to hear. But Stiles’ head snapped to Derek, their eyes meeting over the shoulder of the person Stiles was talking to. Seconds later, Derek’s arms were full of Stiles, and he was enveloped in a hug like he hadn’t gotten in way too long. He grabbed Stiles’ side with his beer-free hand to keep them both from losing balance.
“Derek,” Stiles breathed out next to Derek’s ear. “Fuck, Derek, you…”
He paused then, and scrambled away from the hug, leaving Derek surprised. The black mask Stiles was wearing had come off during the hug.
“Wait, you…” Stiles said, and his eyes dropped down to where Derek’s hand was still on his hip.
“Stiles, what are you doing here?” Derek asked, and he watched Stiles’ eyes widen in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
“You remember me.” Stiles said, almost reverently, like it was something shocking.
“Of course I do,” Derek told him, and he felt Stiles start shaking.
“Holy shit, you do. I didn’t think… holy crap,” Stiles blurted, making absolutely no sense at all.
Before Derek could ask any more, Stiles hugged him again, and held on like Derek was his lifeline.
It took hours of explanations, of Stiles talking about everything that happened in Beacon Hills and how he’d been taken by Ghost Riders who ripped them away from the town and out of everyone’s memories. Derek listened and didn’t miss the little slump of disappointment when Stiles mentioned someone called Peter who helped him get away from the Riders, though it didn’t restore the memory of him. It seemed like Derek should know who Peter was, but he had no idea.
“I don’t know why you do remember me,” Stiles said when he finished his explanation. “But I’m glad you do.”
“I could never forget you,” Derek said, and his ears burned at the confession.
Stiles’ hand found Derek’s, and he leaned against Derek’s shoulder, the gesture both oddly comfortable and surprising.
“I’m glad,” Stiles said, his voice soft. “Of all the people who could remember me, I’m glad it’s you.”