Fic: Everytime I close my eyes (Teen Wolf)
Title: Everytime I close my eyes
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Only for S1
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made
A/N: Yeah, the show got me. This is the first of a few bunnies in the works. Damn show.
Summary: Derek knew the moment he saw him in the woods.
Stiles woke up with a gasp, his sheets soaked with sweat. He ran a hand through his damp hair. He couldn't decide if the dream had been a good one or a nightmare.
It had started out pretty good. There had been laughter and time shared with someone and even now there was a spark of such happiness inside him that he rubbed his chest, wishing the feeling would stay. He couldn't remember being that happy since his mom.
Then the dream had changed. There had been people crying, sickness everywhere, and the stench of death. He'd been sick and God, he'd begged someone to make the pain stop, but all he'd gotten was a cool hand that helped ease the pain for awhile before it came back.
The dream felt familiar and he wondered if it was the same dream he'd had when he was younger. That one had been full of crowds, running on hard packed dirt roads that were hot against his bare feet. He remembered honey sweet, sticky candy eaten and shared while he sat with someone in a garden.
The dreams from his childhood had been full of fun and a feeling of being loved so fiercely it had made him walk around with a smile on his face all day. He shivered as he changed the sheets.
He didn't know how he knew, but something was coming, something that would change everything. In the coming months Stiles will remember thinking this thought, and he will laugh himself sick.
~
Derek knew the moment he saw him in the woods. There was a brief moment of disorientation, then it was like his life clicked into place, as if all this time something was missing and here it was and now his life could continue in the correct direction.
Derek studied the two boys. The one with the short hair and beautiful mouth was the right age and he looked so much like he had before that it made Derek inexplicably angry.
He heard the new wolf, Scott, say the boy's name. Stiles. Last time it had been Thomas and before that, Robbie. The time with Robbie was when Derek realized what was happening. Each lifetime finding him only to lose him to fire, or soldiers, or a gunshot on a muddy street. He can't bear to think about the first time.
He warned the boys off and threw Scott his inhaler before he walked away, too tempted to stay and just stare at Stiles. He heard them talking, Stiles asking Scott if he remembered the Hales, and Derek didn't need a reminder of why he was here. He was a Hale, but he also remembered being other people.
Through all the twists, turns, and crap that this life and all his different lives have thrown at him, he'd only wanted one thing, one person. But he will find who killed his sister and then he will wreck havoc, because the Hales are just as real as any of his other families and he has a duty to them, to Laura. He figured the boys will be back, or at least Scott will if he didn't do something incredibly stupid first.
Later, as he jogged through the woods, all he could think about was how exciting it was to see him again. There had been no fireworks, no angels singing from on high, but the whole thing had made him so stressed and happy at the same time that he'd had to find a way to burn off the energy.
He could barely remember how happiness felt since his family died. But now, they were together or close enough to it, and he had to curb the instinct that was telling him to grab, take, and never let go. Derek stopped and knelt by a slow moving creek. He swirled his hands through the cold water.
This was their fifth chance and he had a deep rooted suspicion that it would be their last. He had to keep the boy safe, and make him realize what was going on. He'd told Thomas and after awhile he'd believed him and they'd had four years before everything went to shit.
But this time was different. This time he had a partner, and his partner wanted to claw its way out right there in the woods and claim the boy that smelled of fear and curiosity but he quieted it, told it to calm, to wait.
This was the first time Derek wasn't alone, the wolf a new and very helpful part of his varied lifetimes. It understood the simple desire to claim and protect. It would help him and together they would get the justice they needed and find a way to make sure nothing happened to Stiles. How hard would it be?
As Derek sat in the back of the police car trying to formulate a plan he was interrupted by the front passenger door opening. He felt a surge of pride as Stiles got in the car. Steel screen or not it was still a bold thing to do, as were his words about not being afraid when it was so clear he was.
God, he was so brave and it made Derek want to grab him and shake him until he stopped. He wanted to call him a foolish child for getting involved even deeper in things he could not fathom.
Robbie had been like this, fearless and almost compelled to hover around Derek like a moth to a flame.
He could remember Robbie like it was yesterday; his eyes, his smile, and his hands. On the way to the police station he sank into his memories.
Robbie had been the son of one of the women that worked above the saloon where Derek served drinks. By the time Derek, back then Liam, met him, Robbie's mother was dead, his father unknown, and he'd been earning his way helping around the place, dodging the drunk men who alternately cursed him and propositioned him.
Two weeks after they became friends, Liam's dreams from his childhood returned. He'd had the same dreams off and on as he'd grown up, but now Robbie was in the dreams but he had a different name and so did Liam.
After weeks of thinking he was crazy he finally realized they were memories not dreams. He didn't tell Robbie, but the next time one of the customers grabbed him and tried to take something Robbie didn't want to give, Liam intervened. Three weeks after that, he took Robbie into his bed and everything he'd hoped for came true.
Then he'd lost him, a drunk miner, a gunshot, and everything that mattered was gone. Liam had went wild, killing the miner and three of the miner's friends. If he concentrated he can still see Robbie's lifeless body and smell his blood.
After being cleared of Laura's murder, Derek knew the way to get to Stiles was through Scott. The newly turned wolf needed his help and the quicker Scott learned some control the better. Stiles was suspicious and sarcastic, not trusting Derek at all.
Derek didn't blame him but the glares and pissed off looks he kept giving Stiles couldn't be helped. There was too much danger around here. Stiles was too involved in helping his best friend to look after his own survival.
When Derek was shot he went looking for Stiles and even as the poison coursed through his body, he knew Stiles would look after him and shield him from the hunters.
Over the examination table in the vet's office Derek grabbed him and used his scent to steady himself while the wolf whimpered in pain, wanting nothing but to have its mate curl around it and make it feel better.
After getting the cure to the bullet, Derek was tempted to grab Stiles and drag him away. He could explain things while they left town. But he knew Stiles. Through four lifetimes he knew him and he was loyal, determined and courageous. He would not leave Scott or his father, no matter what Derek told him.
Being in Stiles' room looking around at his life, or being his jeep comforted Derek and his wolf in some basic fundamental way and gave him patience to try and figure out how to go about making Stiles realize what was happening beneath the other weird shit that was also happening.
Really, Derek thought, after werewolves how much of a stretch is it to believe that Derek and Stiles were destined to keep finding each other over several lifetimes?
Maybe it was the promise they'd made that very first time in the palace garden, the hum and bustle of Constantinople sounding so far away as Derek, back then Tarik, made Genim his, already so in love with him that he'd known he'd do anything, kill anything, that got between them.
Genim had surrendered and given everything he was to his most trusted friend and Tarik had known deep in his bones and soul that he'd hold onto Genim through death and beyond.
Most of Derek's life back then was vague and only appeared like wisps of fog in his memory. But he remembered Genim, and it says something, doesn't it that this time around, hundreds of years after they first met, that that was his name again? It gave Derek a cautious sort of hope. He closed his eyes and focused on the memories of his first meeting with Genim.
Genim's family had worked for the Sultan and Tarik, being the 14th son of the Sultan, and nowhere near the throne was left to do what he wanted for the most part. He chose to get to know the boy that never shut up. He talked and talked about all kinds of things, especially after Tarik taught him to read and let him have free reign in the royal library.
In return, Genim got Tarik to be less serious. He made Tarik realize that there was more going on than what happened inside the palace. He even convinced Tarik to disguise himself and go out into the city with no royal escort to see how the people Tarik's father ruled really lived. It had been an eye opener but he'd relished every moment with his closest friend.
A year later he took his best friend as his lover promising him his life, his very soul, and received the same in return.
Some in the palace knew, but would not dare say anything since Tarik was royalty. They had ten months before the sickness came and though precautions were taken, many in the palace died, including some of Tarik's brothers and sisters. He'd had the best doctors look after Genim and in the end they'd been useless.
Tarik had never failed to give his lover anything he wanted, but he could not kill him no matter how much Genim begged as the sickness took him slowly and painfully away. In the end, Tarik had burned Genim's body himself, not sure why he himself had not gotten sick.
Then, when he wanted to do nothing more than mourn, he'd been called to do his duty as fourth in line to the throne. Five years later he was Sultan and that was the only thing he lived for, making his people's lives better but he never, never forgot Genim. He would often sit in the garden near a statue of his lover he'd had made and remember the boy that changed his life.
Many years later on his deathbed, surrounded by his own sons and beautiful daughters, he had a dream and in it Genim was alive; laughing and young, handsome and strong. He promised Tarik they'd see each other again, that next time they'd get it right. The Sultan died with a smile on his face and a name on his lips.
Derek shook his head hard and pushed those memories away. He had to concentrate on the now. He had to figure out who killed his sister and try and keep Scott from blowing the secret of werewolves sky high.
That night, his mind wouldn't rest as he tried to come up with a plan that make Stiles believe the stuff Derek had to tell him.
The only version of Stiles that remembered anything had been Thomas, with his quick mind and quicker hands.
It had come together one day when they'd talked about dreams, Derek, back then Morgan, trying to work up the nerve to tell Thomas everything when Thomas instead told him about his dreams, dreams that were remarkably similar to Morgan's.
He'd had four years with Thomas, the longest yet, and Thomas, so used to using his skills to pickpocket and scam had mostly given it up once he knew Detective Morgan, was serious about them making something together.
Thomas had been bright and funny, but all the smiles and jokes had hid a ruthless, cynical streak because Thomas was used to looking after Thomas and no one else. Being with Morgan had softened him, gave him someone to care about and when the fire happened Thomas couldn't not try and save those kids and when Morgan saw him in the building, he knocked two people out to get to him. That day, they saved fourteen people, but not themselves.
Derek pushed those memories away too, along with the smell of smoke choking him as he'd gripped Thomas' hand and never let go.
He shifted on the roof right outside Stiles' room and waited for him to get home. His first and only plan was to get Stiles on the subject of dreams and see what kind he'd been having. If that didn't work he had no clue what to do next.
~
When Stiles walked into his room, he rolled his eyes as his window slid open and Derek crawled inside. Of course he was here, ready to demand Stiles do this or do that. He would go to the grave before he admitted to anyone that he looked forward to having Derek in his room, to being the focus of his attention. Something in him craved that intense gaze.
"Dude, how can the amazing Stiles help you tonight? Looking for a date? Do werewolves date? Is there like some sort of website for single were's on the prowl? Heh, prowl. Because that would be kinda cool. Though if your picture messed up when my Dad tried to take your picture, how do you post pictures? Hmmm."
Stiles tapped a finger against his mouth and pondered that while Derek just stared at him. He was used to it. Derek stared at him and everyone else like he was still deciding whether to kill them or just threaten them into submission.
Derek's voice was its usual gruff rumble but there was a hint of something else in it. "Can you do some research on dreams?"
Stiles turned around to his desk and rummaged through a pile of papers. "Way ahead of you bro. Ugh, I know, I know, don't call you bro. Blah, blah, you'll bite my head off, blah." He held out some of the articles he'd printed off back when Scott thought he'd killed that guy on the bus. He tried not to preen at the brief nanosecond glint of humor on Derek's face.
Stiles frowned as Derek took the papers but barely looked at them. He seemed kind of reluctant as he asked Stiles, "Have you been having any strange dreams?" The expression on his face looked uncomfortable as he kept talking, which just meant he was frowning a little more than normal. "Maybe of different places in the past, um, different people?" He seemed like he wanted to say more but stopped.
Stiles shrugged. "I thought this was about Scott?"
Derek huffed in annoyance. "Just answer the question, Stiles. Not everything is wolf related."
Stiles raised his eyebrows. See, his eyebrows could show his surprise just like Derek's usually showed his anger management issues.
"Since when are my dreams any of your business? And since when do you care about anything not wolf related? Are you feeling okay?" Blue eyes glared at him and he held up his hands.
"Just checking. Sheesh! Um, dreams, strange dreams of the Stiles. Let's see. There was that one where I dreamed I was a muppet on Sesame street. There was that one where I was Candace on Phineas and Ferb. Oh! I do remember this one because I've had it before. I worked in this saloon, like in the old west. I kept waiting for Clint Eastwood or Russell Crowe to show up but they didn't."
Stiles shifted uncomfortably as he recalled the dream. "It was like some TV series playing out in my head. There were scenes that play out again and again and some that were blurred."
He glanced at Derek's face and froze. The look on his face was a mix of hope, anguish, and fear. "Why did you ask about my dreams, Derek?" His voice is quiet and strong and he had no clue that at that moment he looked like the boy Derek had taken off a sinking ship.
Derek seemed to tense up and relax at the same time. "Was there someone else in your dreams?"
Stiles shivered. No, no ,he was not getting pulled any deeper into this supernatural shit. He stood up and paced around his room, deliberately staying away from the werewolf slash pink elephant in the room who had suddenly decided to sit on Stiles' bed.
"No, I don't think so. Why does this matter? It's just a stupid dream. Just like the one where I'm like that guy on 'White Collar.'" At Derek's frown he rolled his eyes. "He's like this thief, con artist type and he gets paroled to help the FBI catch criminals."
Now Derek looked shocked and amused with a touch of hope. Or maybe he was gassy. Stiles didn't know and didn't want to know even though he knew he'd be told regardless of his opinion.
"Um, did you want to borrow the first season? I have it on DVD." Even as he said it he knew Derek didn't want to see the show. No, Derek was up to something else.
Stiles watched as Derek's eyes slid away from his as he spoke.
"I used to have these really intense dreams when I was growing up and then at some point I realized they were memories of a previous life. Once I realized that, I got more and more memories of other lifetimes I had." Stiles sat down at his desk as Derek met his eyes. "In one dream, I used to work in this saloon."
Stiles shook his head as Derek reached out and pulled Stiles and his desk chair closer. "There was this boy, Robbie. He worked there too and he was funny. Always running around doing stuff, running errands for the working girls, cleaning up after the previous night's brawls. I couldn't understand why he did all that, but I watched him and he seemed to really like being helpful. Some of the guys used to harass him, call him names, try and get him to go up to a room with them, but he just dodged them and kept doing his job."
Stiles snatched his hand out of Derek's. When had Derek ended up holding his hand?
"No, no, don't do this. There is no way you're some reincarnated werewolf that-that is what, I mean what are you saying Derek? That I'm Robbie? That's bullshit."
As soon as Stiles said the name, it felt like something hit him in the back of the head and he was bombarded with image after image of him in some sepia toned western that smelled like horses, manure, and sweat.
He was unaware that he'd fallen to the floor and that Derek was straddling him, holding his hands and trying to make him stop thrashing. He didn't hear himself yell in a western twang, then say something in Arabic before yelling in English.
In between Stiles' screams, and the different languages and dialects, Derek repeatedly heard one of his names. Sometimes his names were said in joy, other times in mind numbing fear.
Stiles blinked his eyes a few times and finally focused on Derek who was straddling him for some odd reason, his hands massaging Stiles' temples. He wanted to close his eyes again and enjoy it, but his mind was too full of images and smells; remembered good times plus some pretty painful deaths.
He knew the man above him better than anyone in the world. They were connected and he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Everything was so jumbled and this wasn't Derek, or rather, he was more than just Derek.
"Tarik?"
The smile he got in return made Stiles feel faint. So handsome, so focused on rules and practical matters. He'd loved distracting Tarik, making him live life instead of just watching it.
Stiles sat up and Derek moved back until he was straddling Stiles' upper thighs. Stiles cocked his head and studied Tarik, or Derek for a moment. Then he grabbed the back of Derek's neck and brought their mouths together.
One kiss turned into another and another, each wet, hot thrust of his tongue into Derek's mouth had both of them groaning and Stiles remembered this, remembered the way Tarik had groaned when Genim had taken the initiative and kissed him before sucking little bruises into Tarik's neck.
Stiles shivered and tried to pull Derek closer as he sucked on the salty skin of Derek's neck. He tasted so good and it had been so long! He trailed his other hand through Derek's hair, pulling on it a little. He smiled when Tarik groaned only this groan had the soft whine of a animal with it and Stiles stopped, trying to merge the two men in his impossibly full brain.
Derek watched him, his eyes their normal pale green while Stiles leaned his forehead against Derek's and took a deep breath.
"Were you a werewolf back then too?"
Derek laughed and Stiles never thought he would hear that sound and at the same time he'd missed it. Remembering all the different lifetimes was still kind of dizzying. The kiss on his forehead made him feel like he should object, but after that emotional upload of his various lifetimes he was tired.
He only groaned a little as Derek moved off of him and pulled him up off the floor. He didn't object as Derek pushed him onto his bed and sat beside him, both their backs pressed against the headboard.
"No, he's new. Maybe with his help I can keep you safe. How much do you remember? Who do you remember?"
Stiles shrugged and tried not to freak out that he wasn't freaking out about Derek's arm around his shoulders and the fond look on his face. He wasn't used to that look and before tonight would have swore Derek had only two facial expressions; pissed-off-homicidal and pissed-off-but-not-yet-homicidal.
Stiles cleared his throat. "It's all kind of blurred together right now but some things are clearer than others. Maybe these are the big moments? I don't know. I feel like Rod Serling should be around somewhere. Let's see, I remember Tarik and the garden where we hung out. I remember the way Tarik looked at me, like I was this thing he could never fully understand, but he was going to try to anyway."
He didn't want to think about getting sick yet, the way it took him away from someone, when he'd wanted so very much to stay. He kept talking.
"I remember Havoc. And what kind of name was that, Derek, seriously? When you and your crew boarded the ship, I hid below decks but you found me. You had blood on your shirt. You pulled me out of my hiding spot and tied a rope around my hands." He stopped when Derek frowned. "What?"
Derek shook his head. "I don't remember being him much. I get brief flashes sometimes but he's the most faint."
Stiles nodded and reached down and pulled a notebook and pen from his back pack. "We need to keep track of who we were back then, names and where we met, and maybe that will help."
Derek cleared his throat. "Just like that, you believe me?"
Stiles laughed softly and fondly. Tarik had always thought Genim would stop loving him if he found out something bad. Seemed like some of those characteristics had cropped up in this lifetime too.
He had a brief flash of Derek when he was Morgan, the way Morgan used to try and not say anything about Stiles' thievery and how it had bothered him. Stiles had been Thomas then, and he'd known, but some part of him had been perverse. He'd liked making Morgan uncomfortable and wanted Morgan to choose between his job as a cop and Thomas.
Stiles figured he'd been kind of an asshole back then but he couldn't go back and change that. Plus, Morgan never gave up on him, never made giving up his criminal ways an ultimatum. At some point Thomas had realized he came first with someone like he'd never done before and he'd stopped hurting Morgan.
Stiles took notes, trying to separate each lifetime into some sort of order. With Derek adding details it was easier.
Derek tapped the notepad. "This was the second time we met. I think there may be more life times when we didn't meet for some reason, but I have no proof and no memories of those lives. It's just a feeling I have."
Stiles nodded. "Yeah, I can see that happening. Childhood deaths, or accidents before we had a chance to meet. Maybe the geographic locations were too far from each other." He tapped the second pair of names; Havoc and Andrew. "On the ship when I saw you for the first time, I remember feeling shocked and excited and relieved. Like I'd been waiting on you if that even makes sense. Though the blood and smoke and screams of the dying kind of pushed that all away. Afterwards I was terrified I was going to die."
Derek frowned and Stiles had to resist the urge to take one of his thumbs and rub at the frown until it disappeared. Robbie used to do that to Liam and Liam's eyes would go dark and he'd kiss Robbie breathless.
Stiles tapped on Robbie and Liam, the third time they'd met. "You said this was the first time you realized your dreams were really memories of us?"
Derek nodded and swallowed hard. "Yeah, it took me awhile to believe it. The memories were like movies, you know? But back then I had no clue what a movie was. I just had these images, these scenes that would play out and it was like I could smell and hear and feel what was happening."
Stiles scribbled more notes. "Did you say anything to Robbie?"
Derek grunted and shook his head. "I didn't know how to bring it up. I thought he'd think I was crazy and I didn't want to lose him." Stiles watched Derek take a deep breath and close his eyes. He sank further down on the bed and turned onto his side, one hand stroking Stiles waist. "I should have said something. I thought I had all the time in the world."
Stiles gave in to the urge to pull Derek closer. He carded a hand through Derek's hair. He still had to learn more about Derek in this lifetime, but he already felt so close to him. It turned him on and made him wary at the same time.
Derek laughed, deep and wicked. He moved closer to rest his head in Stiles' lap. He opened his eyes and smirked at Stiles, his voice half-growl, half sing-song. "I know what you're thinking."
Stiles laughed nervously and ran a thumb over one of Derek's eyebrows. He was hard and he hoped his face wasn't that red.
Derek grabbed his hand and sucked a finger into his mouth. Stiles gasped and squirmed. Yes, he was a virgin but he had these memories of him and Derek together; their skin fever-hot, bodies making slick sounds, and mind numbing pleasure.
Stiles didn't object when Derek pushed the notebook onto the floor and crawled on top of him. After giving his finger a brief playful nip he withdrew it slowly and leaned down to lick at Stiles’ lips. Even when Stiles opened his mouth, Derek continued to lick at his lips, one lick over his nose made Stiles laugh while Derek proceeded to lick every inch of Stiles' face.
"I thought we were making out. Why do I feel like it's bath time?"
Stiles put his hands around Derek's shoulders as the werewolf snorted and kept licking. He really seemed to like a spot right below Stiles' right ear. He licked it over and over before sucking a tender piece of skin into his mouth and almost gnawing on it.
Stiles went from laughing to moaning. His hands tightened on Derek's shoulders as he tried to rub his body against the man above him. Derek let go of his neck with a reluctant slurp and met Stiles' rubbing with some of own. His voice was slurred and he sounded drunk. Stiles shuddered as Derek's warm breath ghosted against his ear.
"I really want to fuck you until you scream, but we need to wait."
Stiles rubbed his erection against Derek's and panted. He moaned pitifully when Derek rolled off of him. He tried to catch his breath as Derek stood up and adjusted the bulge in his jeans.
Stiles knew it was unfair but he leaned back on his elbows and spread his legs even more. He looked at Derek from underneath his eyelashes. These new memories gave him invaluable insight into how to get Derek to rip both their clothes off and fuck him stupid.
His pose got him a groan from Derek, but when the man walked or rather, hobbled over to Stiles' desk chair, Stiles sighed and sat up. He tried to get his body to calm down.
"Obviously you have something else on your mind instead of taking advantage of my young, nubile, and willing body."
When that got him a glare, Stiles smirked and made a 'carry on' gesture with his hands.
Derek crossed his arms and frowned. "We still need to find out who bit Scott. This Alpha seems a little off, like something's not right. Normally, an Alpha would have never left Scott out in the woods after he bit him."
Stiles nodded and picked his notebook back up. They talked for another hour before Derek left. Stiles allowed himself one quick kiss because if they did anymore he was seriously going to tie Derek to his bed and ride him like a wild mustang. If Stiles ended up jerking off to that image, well that was between him and his bed.
After finding out about all these past lives, Stiles felt different. He was still him, but he was more than that and knowing that he'd been these different people gave him a boost. He spent some time in the library researching reincarnation and did even more research when he got home.
Then everything seemed to start happening at once. He and Scott thinking Scott's boss was the Alpha, being trapped in the school after the Alpha gutted Derek and that, that right there almost made Stiles give it all up.
If not for the ensuing horror movie cliché of running through the dark and empty school and finding Jackson, Lydia and Allison he wasn't sure what he would have done. When Scott told them Derek had killed someone, Stiles had tiredly gone along with it. He just wanted the night to be over so he could go mourn in peace.
Was this how Derek had felt all those times when Stiles' had died first? He couldn't imagine it and later when the Alpha was gone and Derek's body was missing, Stiles wasn't sure what he felt; some combination of happiness, relief and worry.
Two nights later Derek showed up and since he was pissed about being a murder suspect again, Stiles let him sulk in the corner in his room as he and Danny tried to track down the phone. He knew it was better to sometimes let Derek simmer than confront him.
Stiles dreamed and knew things happening were things that had happened to him when he was Andrew. Midway through the dream the ship he was on was attacked. He met Tarik, now with the nickname Havoc, Stiles assumed for all the chaos he created, as he and his crew terrorized English and Spanish ships alike.
Havoc took Andrew off the ship and put him under his protection. It wasn't exactly a comfortable protection, but better than any other to be had in the middle of a crew of pirates. Havoc was used to his orders being followed. After a few black eyes, Andrew learned never to argue with him in front of his crew. When they were alone, Havoc would sometimes listen.
He didn't take Andrew to his bed right away though Stiles can remember the looks Havoc would give him; lust filled and puzzled at the same time. They were looks that someone gave another person they were sure they knew, they just didn't know how they knew them.
Maybe Havoc had some foggy memories of Genim and that bled over into how he treated Andrew. Most of the time he was rough and impatient and frowned when Andrew would go on and on about his former work.
Havoc had refused to even send a letter to the monastery Andrew had been headed for to see if they would pay a ransom. He never gave Andrew a clear answer as to why he wouldn't even try. As time passed and Andrew became more than Havoc's cabin boy, Andrew ceased to care.
He felt he was where he was supposed to be. When the night came that Havoc wanted more, Andrew was more than willing even though his teachings said he was going to hell.
Stiles shuddered as he remembered the day Her Majesty's Royal Navy showed up at the port town where Havoc and his crew rested in between their attacks. There had been explosions, smoke and screaming. He'd found Havoc near his ship, broken and bleeding. Andrew didn't care. He'd tried to drag Havoc off somewhere and hide him, but the soldiers came and when he wouldn't let go one of the men shoved a pistol against his stomach and pulled the trigger.
Hands were grabbing and pulling at Stiles as he clutched his stomach and moaned. A voice reached him and he opened his eyes to find Derek bent over his bed furiously shaking his shoulders.
Stiles didn't care that his face was wet and his nose was running. He pulled Derek down and buried his face in the warm spot between Derek's neck and shoulder. His stomach felt like it was on fire and he had to resist checking to see if he was bleeding out like he'd done on that dock.
Derek climbed on top of him and whispered, "Shh, shh, hey, it's okay. It's okay. Genim, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. I swear it. I swear with everything I am, or ever will be, that I will not leave you."
The words felt familiar and Stiles calmed down. He remembered Tarik saying the same words in the garden they'd both loved. He wiped his face and pulled back a little to look at Derek. The open, fierce look on Derek's would have looked strange before all of this, but now it looked safe and Stiles needed that so much.
He rubbed his face against Derek's jaw before sweeping a kiss over his mouth. "They took you away and-and shot me when I wouldn't let go, they just dragged you away and I knew you were dying. You had so many injuries and I couldn't help you. I loved you so much and I couldn't move! They just left me there and dragged you away. For all that I was a former man of God, I would have given my soul to the devil if he would have appeared and agreed to help you. English Bastards!"
Stiles was unaware his words were spoken with the same Scottish brogue Andrew had used.
Stiles accepted the second kiss from Derek before squirming and pushing Derek's jacket off his shoulders. "Get everything off. I have to check, I have to make sure you're okay. You always hid your injuries from me. Remember when you got the splinter in your foot and it got infected because you were being stupid?"
Derek laughed and pulled his shirt over his head and sat back down on the bed to pull off his shoes. He knew from experience it was best to just do what Genim wanted or he'd just keep talking and pushing until you ended up doing what he wanted after he gave you some round about talk.
Stiles pushed Derek down onto his bed and shifted onto his knees right beside him. He touched Derek's shoulders, his arms and his hands. He ignored Derek's groans as Stiles' fingers traced the visible veins in his lower arms and hands. He ran a hand over Derek's stomach.
He paused at the hardening cock before giving it a light caress and continuing to inspect Derek's thighs. He bit his lip at Derek's muttered, "You have got to be kidding me."
No matter who Derek was, he'd always been so impatient and sometimes Stiles used to let him have his way and sometimes, well sometimes, he'd make him wait.
Stiles ran his hands down Derek's legs, sighing in relief. One of them had been broken back on the dock.
He stood up and pulled off his pajama bottoms and his tee-shirt. The way Derek was looking at him made him feel powerful and something clinched in his chest. He was fiercely glad that Derek had asked him about his dreams so they could have this again.
Many might think that he was just an hyperactive 16 year old boy and what did he know about love or anything? Stiles knew he loved loyally and forever. No matter what anyone thought, he belonged to this man and this man belonged to him. Together they could do anything, and he needed to turn off his thoughts before he started trying to write Derek a poem.
Stiles crawled on top of the werewolf's warm body and settled down on Derek's upper thighs. He touched the wet tip of Derek's cock before licking the taste from his fingers. Then he touched his own hardness and slipped his fingers into Derek's mouth. Derek grabbed his hand and lightly nibbled on the fingers, lips greedy against Stiles' skin, teeth blunt and human for now.
Stiles let him keep that hand and took his other hand and licked it before grabbing his own dick and stroking it. His heart was racing and he wanted to come right then and there but he wanted something else even more.
The hand Derek was still licking was slick now and he pulled it away and used it to fist Derek's hardness and stroke. His rhythm was jerky and uncoordinated because no matter what he remembered, this was his first time touching someone besides himself.
Derek's eyes were a bright blue as he groaned and pushed his dick further into Stiles' grip. He sat up and grabbed the back of Stiles neck.
It was Stiles turn to groan as Derek thrust his tongue in and out of Stiles' mouth. He cursed into Derek's mouth as the werewolf reached down and stroked both their cocks together. The grip was tighter and rougher than Stiles was used to but he liked it and after a few jerks he came, hands gripped tight on Derek's shoulders, hips rolling smooth and steady. Derek was right behind him. Stiles rested his forehead against Derek's. Derek's voice was half growl.
"Is your Dad here?"
Stiles laughed loudly. "This is the wrong time to be asking! Oh my god, I think if he was here, there'd be a gun in your face and a very pissed of father demanding an explanation." He laughed again and when Derek joined in, it was almost as good as the orgasm he'd just had. Almost.
Stiles thought he was going to go crazy. Between trying to prevent Scott from killing him and keeping his dad in the dark, Stiles was being run ragged. Then there was Jackson being an asshole while Scott had drama galore with Allison and her crazy gun toting family. He was happy when he made first line, but when he had to miss the game he didn’t care as much as he thought he would. He and Derek were close to discovering who the Alpha was.
Then Derek saved him from his comatose, but just faking it! uncle, and it was like everyone in the whole town had gone crazy. Peter Hale was trying to date Scott’s mom and Derek decided to disappear. As he and Scott rode up to ‘save’ Jackson from Allison’s dad, Stiles had to wonder when it became opposite week or whatever.
When the love of his teenage life, well before the whole Derek and former lives thing, asked him to the formal, Stiles figured it’d be fun. That, of course, had to turn to shit too.
As Stiles knelt next to Lydia's body and looked into Peter's eyes he knew he was going to die. He tried not to flinch at the blood dripping from Peter's chin. There had been too many near misses involving Peter for Stiles' luck to continue, like escaping him at the hospital, and later hitting his car.
The rest of the night seemed to blur by so fast, and happen in slow motion at the same time. Helping Peter find Derek, being offered the bite which he would have been fine with if it was Derek doing the offering. He was so tired when he got to the hospital, only to be met with his angry and worried dad.
Then Chris Argent showed up and wasn't that fun? There was no way he'd tell this man anything that would harm Derek or Scott. But he did tell him about his sister. Afterwards, only the threat to Derek made him grab Jackson's keys.
The moon shone bright on the figures in front of the burnt out Hale house. Stiles didn't hesitate as he threw the bottle at a wolfed out Peter. He could only gawk at the caught bottle. It was all over, Peter the winner take all, when Scott yelled at Allison and she became Diana of the hunt.
Stiles would be lying if he said he didn't feel bad to see Peter on fire after all he'd been through, but all he had to do was remember Lydia's cold body and he decided he could live with this. When Jackson threw his own bottle, Stiles didn't try and stop him.
Stiles watched Derek's clawed hand raise and slash down across Peter's throat. The air was thick with smoke, blood, and power. Something seemed to thrum through Stiles, fierce and triumphant. Derek turned around and Stiles' heart thumped loudly when his eyes turned red and he growled out, "I'm the Alpha now."
Stiles waited until Chris Argent took Allison's necklace and planted it on Kate's body. He nodded to Derek as he and Scott took off for the hospital to see if Lydia was going to be a werewolf.
The next day was a Saturday and Stiles managed to drag his tired and bruised body out of bed at noon. His dad was at work, wrapping up the deaths of Kate Argent and Peter Hale. The newspaper was full of misinformation and Stiles just wanted to eat his cereal and go back to sleep.
The knock on his front door had him shuffling to answer it. He was kind of shocked to see Derek, but moved back to let him inside. They both stood there for a moment.
Derek didn't look different but he carried himself differently and Stiles made a mental note to grill him about being an Alpha. He didn't say anything when Derek moved closer and pulled him into his arms. He hugged Derek tightly and felt him relax. He buried his face in Derek's shirt and rubbed it back and forth. "Did you think I was going to change my mind?"
Stiles looked up when Derek shrugged.
"Last night didn't change anything, Fido." He shook his head and grabbed Derek's hand. He pulled him into the kitchen and got Derek his own bowl of cereal. He decided he was still hungry and fixed a turkey sandwich. When he saw Derek eying his sandwich he fixed him one too. He listened when Derek told him he'd bit Jackson.
Stiles snorted. "Don't know if that was a good idea. He's an arrogant asshole even without the super wolfy powers. How about you not change anyone else without discussing it first?"
That got him another shrug and Stiles laughed. He had the strangest feeling that this lifetime was going to be the most interesting one yet.
Epilogue: Year 2103
Vincent made his way off the ship and onto the space station. It was more than he could have ever imagined. He looked around and smiled, ready for a new life.
Even with all his research he wasn't prepared for the slight gravity changes. He stumbled and would have fell if not for a hand that caught his arm. He felt his face turning red as he straightened up and met green eyes.
The man was stunning and his smile made Vincent's heart beat a little faster. The man moved a little closer before he let go of Vincent's arm. He held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Brandon."
Vincent shook Brandon's hand and felt a shock of recognition go through him. Brandon's eyes widened and his hand pulled Vincent closer. They ignored the people moving around them.
Brandon's voice sounded shocked and pleased.
"Stiles?"
Vincent smiled and laughed loudly, not caring when people stared at them.
"Looks like you were wrong about Beacon Hills being our last time."
Brandon smirked and let go of his hand to pick up Vincent's bag. "Well, it's not like this is an exact science. What say we get you settled and do some catching up?"
Vincent followed Brandon down a copper and silver colored corridor. Running off to space just became the best idea ever.
The End
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Only for S1
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made
A/N: Yeah, the show got me. This is the first of a few bunnies in the works. Damn show.
Summary: Derek knew the moment he saw him in the woods.
Stiles woke up with a gasp, his sheets soaked with sweat. He ran a hand through his damp hair. He couldn't decide if the dream had been a good one or a nightmare.
It had started out pretty good. There had been laughter and time shared with someone and even now there was a spark of such happiness inside him that he rubbed his chest, wishing the feeling would stay. He couldn't remember being that happy since his mom.
Then the dream had changed. There had been people crying, sickness everywhere, and the stench of death. He'd been sick and God, he'd begged someone to make the pain stop, but all he'd gotten was a cool hand that helped ease the pain for awhile before it came back.
The dream felt familiar and he wondered if it was the same dream he'd had when he was younger. That one had been full of crowds, running on hard packed dirt roads that were hot against his bare feet. He remembered honey sweet, sticky candy eaten and shared while he sat with someone in a garden.
The dreams from his childhood had been full of fun and a feeling of being loved so fiercely it had made him walk around with a smile on his face all day. He shivered as he changed the sheets.
He didn't know how he knew, but something was coming, something that would change everything. In the coming months Stiles will remember thinking this thought, and he will laugh himself sick.
~
Derek knew the moment he saw him in the woods. There was a brief moment of disorientation, then it was like his life clicked into place, as if all this time something was missing and here it was and now his life could continue in the correct direction.
Derek studied the two boys. The one with the short hair and beautiful mouth was the right age and he looked so much like he had before that it made Derek inexplicably angry.
He heard the new wolf, Scott, say the boy's name. Stiles. Last time it had been Thomas and before that, Robbie. The time with Robbie was when Derek realized what was happening. Each lifetime finding him only to lose him to fire, or soldiers, or a gunshot on a muddy street. He can't bear to think about the first time.
He warned the boys off and threw Scott his inhaler before he walked away, too tempted to stay and just stare at Stiles. He heard them talking, Stiles asking Scott if he remembered the Hales, and Derek didn't need a reminder of why he was here. He was a Hale, but he also remembered being other people.
Through all the twists, turns, and crap that this life and all his different lives have thrown at him, he'd only wanted one thing, one person. But he will find who killed his sister and then he will wreck havoc, because the Hales are just as real as any of his other families and he has a duty to them, to Laura. He figured the boys will be back, or at least Scott will if he didn't do something incredibly stupid first.
Later, as he jogged through the woods, all he could think about was how exciting it was to see him again. There had been no fireworks, no angels singing from on high, but the whole thing had made him so stressed and happy at the same time that he'd had to find a way to burn off the energy.
He could barely remember how happiness felt since his family died. But now, they were together or close enough to it, and he had to curb the instinct that was telling him to grab, take, and never let go. Derek stopped and knelt by a slow moving creek. He swirled his hands through the cold water.
This was their fifth chance and he had a deep rooted suspicion that it would be their last. He had to keep the boy safe, and make him realize what was going on. He'd told Thomas and after awhile he'd believed him and they'd had four years before everything went to shit.
But this time was different. This time he had a partner, and his partner wanted to claw its way out right there in the woods and claim the boy that smelled of fear and curiosity but he quieted it, told it to calm, to wait.
This was the first time Derek wasn't alone, the wolf a new and very helpful part of his varied lifetimes. It understood the simple desire to claim and protect. It would help him and together they would get the justice they needed and find a way to make sure nothing happened to Stiles. How hard would it be?
As Derek sat in the back of the police car trying to formulate a plan he was interrupted by the front passenger door opening. He felt a surge of pride as Stiles got in the car. Steel screen or not it was still a bold thing to do, as were his words about not being afraid when it was so clear he was.
God, he was so brave and it made Derek want to grab him and shake him until he stopped. He wanted to call him a foolish child for getting involved even deeper in things he could not fathom.
Robbie had been like this, fearless and almost compelled to hover around Derek like a moth to a flame.
He could remember Robbie like it was yesterday; his eyes, his smile, and his hands. On the way to the police station he sank into his memories.
Robbie had been the son of one of the women that worked above the saloon where Derek served drinks. By the time Derek, back then Liam, met him, Robbie's mother was dead, his father unknown, and he'd been earning his way helping around the place, dodging the drunk men who alternately cursed him and propositioned him.
Two weeks after they became friends, Liam's dreams from his childhood returned. He'd had the same dreams off and on as he'd grown up, but now Robbie was in the dreams but he had a different name and so did Liam.
After weeks of thinking he was crazy he finally realized they were memories not dreams. He didn't tell Robbie, but the next time one of the customers grabbed him and tried to take something Robbie didn't want to give, Liam intervened. Three weeks after that, he took Robbie into his bed and everything he'd hoped for came true.
Then he'd lost him, a drunk miner, a gunshot, and everything that mattered was gone. Liam had went wild, killing the miner and three of the miner's friends. If he concentrated he can still see Robbie's lifeless body and smell his blood.
After being cleared of Laura's murder, Derek knew the way to get to Stiles was through Scott. The newly turned wolf needed his help and the quicker Scott learned some control the better. Stiles was suspicious and sarcastic, not trusting Derek at all.
Derek didn't blame him but the glares and pissed off looks he kept giving Stiles couldn't be helped. There was too much danger around here. Stiles was too involved in helping his best friend to look after his own survival.
When Derek was shot he went looking for Stiles and even as the poison coursed through his body, he knew Stiles would look after him and shield him from the hunters.
Over the examination table in the vet's office Derek grabbed him and used his scent to steady himself while the wolf whimpered in pain, wanting nothing but to have its mate curl around it and make it feel better.
After getting the cure to the bullet, Derek was tempted to grab Stiles and drag him away. He could explain things while they left town. But he knew Stiles. Through four lifetimes he knew him and he was loyal, determined and courageous. He would not leave Scott or his father, no matter what Derek told him.
Being in Stiles' room looking around at his life, or being his jeep comforted Derek and his wolf in some basic fundamental way and gave him patience to try and figure out how to go about making Stiles realize what was happening beneath the other weird shit that was also happening.
Really, Derek thought, after werewolves how much of a stretch is it to believe that Derek and Stiles were destined to keep finding each other over several lifetimes?
Maybe it was the promise they'd made that very first time in the palace garden, the hum and bustle of Constantinople sounding so far away as Derek, back then Tarik, made Genim his, already so in love with him that he'd known he'd do anything, kill anything, that got between them.
Genim had surrendered and given everything he was to his most trusted friend and Tarik had known deep in his bones and soul that he'd hold onto Genim through death and beyond.
Most of Derek's life back then was vague and only appeared like wisps of fog in his memory. But he remembered Genim, and it says something, doesn't it that this time around, hundreds of years after they first met, that that was his name again? It gave Derek a cautious sort of hope. He closed his eyes and focused on the memories of his first meeting with Genim.
Genim's family had worked for the Sultan and Tarik, being the 14th son of the Sultan, and nowhere near the throne was left to do what he wanted for the most part. He chose to get to know the boy that never shut up. He talked and talked about all kinds of things, especially after Tarik taught him to read and let him have free reign in the royal library.
In return, Genim got Tarik to be less serious. He made Tarik realize that there was more going on than what happened inside the palace. He even convinced Tarik to disguise himself and go out into the city with no royal escort to see how the people Tarik's father ruled really lived. It had been an eye opener but he'd relished every moment with his closest friend.
A year later he took his best friend as his lover promising him his life, his very soul, and received the same in return.
Some in the palace knew, but would not dare say anything since Tarik was royalty. They had ten months before the sickness came and though precautions were taken, many in the palace died, including some of Tarik's brothers and sisters. He'd had the best doctors look after Genim and in the end they'd been useless.
Tarik had never failed to give his lover anything he wanted, but he could not kill him no matter how much Genim begged as the sickness took him slowly and painfully away. In the end, Tarik had burned Genim's body himself, not sure why he himself had not gotten sick.
Then, when he wanted to do nothing more than mourn, he'd been called to do his duty as fourth in line to the throne. Five years later he was Sultan and that was the only thing he lived for, making his people's lives better but he never, never forgot Genim. He would often sit in the garden near a statue of his lover he'd had made and remember the boy that changed his life.
Many years later on his deathbed, surrounded by his own sons and beautiful daughters, he had a dream and in it Genim was alive; laughing and young, handsome and strong. He promised Tarik they'd see each other again, that next time they'd get it right. The Sultan died with a smile on his face and a name on his lips.
Derek shook his head hard and pushed those memories away. He had to concentrate on the now. He had to figure out who killed his sister and try and keep Scott from blowing the secret of werewolves sky high.
That night, his mind wouldn't rest as he tried to come up with a plan that make Stiles believe the stuff Derek had to tell him.
The only version of Stiles that remembered anything had been Thomas, with his quick mind and quicker hands.
It had come together one day when they'd talked about dreams, Derek, back then Morgan, trying to work up the nerve to tell Thomas everything when Thomas instead told him about his dreams, dreams that were remarkably similar to Morgan's.
He'd had four years with Thomas, the longest yet, and Thomas, so used to using his skills to pickpocket and scam had mostly given it up once he knew Detective Morgan, was serious about them making something together.
Thomas had been bright and funny, but all the smiles and jokes had hid a ruthless, cynical streak because Thomas was used to looking after Thomas and no one else. Being with Morgan had softened him, gave him someone to care about and when the fire happened Thomas couldn't not try and save those kids and when Morgan saw him in the building, he knocked two people out to get to him. That day, they saved fourteen people, but not themselves.
Derek pushed those memories away too, along with the smell of smoke choking him as he'd gripped Thomas' hand and never let go.
He shifted on the roof right outside Stiles' room and waited for him to get home. His first and only plan was to get Stiles on the subject of dreams and see what kind he'd been having. If that didn't work he had no clue what to do next.
~
When Stiles walked into his room, he rolled his eyes as his window slid open and Derek crawled inside. Of course he was here, ready to demand Stiles do this or do that. He would go to the grave before he admitted to anyone that he looked forward to having Derek in his room, to being the focus of his attention. Something in him craved that intense gaze.
"Dude, how can the amazing Stiles help you tonight? Looking for a date? Do werewolves date? Is there like some sort of website for single were's on the prowl? Heh, prowl. Because that would be kinda cool. Though if your picture messed up when my Dad tried to take your picture, how do you post pictures? Hmmm."
Stiles tapped a finger against his mouth and pondered that while Derek just stared at him. He was used to it. Derek stared at him and everyone else like he was still deciding whether to kill them or just threaten them into submission.
Derek's voice was its usual gruff rumble but there was a hint of something else in it. "Can you do some research on dreams?"
Stiles turned around to his desk and rummaged through a pile of papers. "Way ahead of you bro. Ugh, I know, I know, don't call you bro. Blah, blah, you'll bite my head off, blah." He held out some of the articles he'd printed off back when Scott thought he'd killed that guy on the bus. He tried not to preen at the brief nanosecond glint of humor on Derek's face.
Stiles frowned as Derek took the papers but barely looked at them. He seemed kind of reluctant as he asked Stiles, "Have you been having any strange dreams?" The expression on his face looked uncomfortable as he kept talking, which just meant he was frowning a little more than normal. "Maybe of different places in the past, um, different people?" He seemed like he wanted to say more but stopped.
Stiles shrugged. "I thought this was about Scott?"
Derek huffed in annoyance. "Just answer the question, Stiles. Not everything is wolf related."
Stiles raised his eyebrows. See, his eyebrows could show his surprise just like Derek's usually showed his anger management issues.
"Since when are my dreams any of your business? And since when do you care about anything not wolf related? Are you feeling okay?" Blue eyes glared at him and he held up his hands.
"Just checking. Sheesh! Um, dreams, strange dreams of the Stiles. Let's see. There was that one where I dreamed I was a muppet on Sesame street. There was that one where I was Candace on Phineas and Ferb. Oh! I do remember this one because I've had it before. I worked in this saloon, like in the old west. I kept waiting for Clint Eastwood or Russell Crowe to show up but they didn't."
Stiles shifted uncomfortably as he recalled the dream. "It was like some TV series playing out in my head. There were scenes that play out again and again and some that were blurred."
He glanced at Derek's face and froze. The look on his face was a mix of hope, anguish, and fear. "Why did you ask about my dreams, Derek?" His voice is quiet and strong and he had no clue that at that moment he looked like the boy Derek had taken off a sinking ship.
Derek seemed to tense up and relax at the same time. "Was there someone else in your dreams?"
Stiles shivered. No, no ,he was not getting pulled any deeper into this supernatural shit. He stood up and paced around his room, deliberately staying away from the werewolf slash pink elephant in the room who had suddenly decided to sit on Stiles' bed.
"No, I don't think so. Why does this matter? It's just a stupid dream. Just like the one where I'm like that guy on 'White Collar.'" At Derek's frown he rolled his eyes. "He's like this thief, con artist type and he gets paroled to help the FBI catch criminals."
Now Derek looked shocked and amused with a touch of hope. Or maybe he was gassy. Stiles didn't know and didn't want to know even though he knew he'd be told regardless of his opinion.
"Um, did you want to borrow the first season? I have it on DVD." Even as he said it he knew Derek didn't want to see the show. No, Derek was up to something else.
Stiles watched as Derek's eyes slid away from his as he spoke.
"I used to have these really intense dreams when I was growing up and then at some point I realized they were memories of a previous life. Once I realized that, I got more and more memories of other lifetimes I had." Stiles sat down at his desk as Derek met his eyes. "In one dream, I used to work in this saloon."
Stiles shook his head as Derek reached out and pulled Stiles and his desk chair closer. "There was this boy, Robbie. He worked there too and he was funny. Always running around doing stuff, running errands for the working girls, cleaning up after the previous night's brawls. I couldn't understand why he did all that, but I watched him and he seemed to really like being helpful. Some of the guys used to harass him, call him names, try and get him to go up to a room with them, but he just dodged them and kept doing his job."
Stiles snatched his hand out of Derek's. When had Derek ended up holding his hand?
"No, no, don't do this. There is no way you're some reincarnated werewolf that-that is what, I mean what are you saying Derek? That I'm Robbie? That's bullshit."
As soon as Stiles said the name, it felt like something hit him in the back of the head and he was bombarded with image after image of him in some sepia toned western that smelled like horses, manure, and sweat.
He was unaware that he'd fallen to the floor and that Derek was straddling him, holding his hands and trying to make him stop thrashing. He didn't hear himself yell in a western twang, then say something in Arabic before yelling in English.
In between Stiles' screams, and the different languages and dialects, Derek repeatedly heard one of his names. Sometimes his names were said in joy, other times in mind numbing fear.
Stiles blinked his eyes a few times and finally focused on Derek who was straddling him for some odd reason, his hands massaging Stiles' temples. He wanted to close his eyes again and enjoy it, but his mind was too full of images and smells; remembered good times plus some pretty painful deaths.
He knew the man above him better than anyone in the world. They were connected and he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Everything was so jumbled and this wasn't Derek, or rather, he was more than just Derek.
"Tarik?"
The smile he got in return made Stiles feel faint. So handsome, so focused on rules and practical matters. He'd loved distracting Tarik, making him live life instead of just watching it.
Stiles sat up and Derek moved back until he was straddling Stiles' upper thighs. Stiles cocked his head and studied Tarik, or Derek for a moment. Then he grabbed the back of Derek's neck and brought their mouths together.
One kiss turned into another and another, each wet, hot thrust of his tongue into Derek's mouth had both of them groaning and Stiles remembered this, remembered the way Tarik had groaned when Genim had taken the initiative and kissed him before sucking little bruises into Tarik's neck.
Stiles shivered and tried to pull Derek closer as he sucked on the salty skin of Derek's neck. He tasted so good and it had been so long! He trailed his other hand through Derek's hair, pulling on it a little. He smiled when Tarik groaned only this groan had the soft whine of a animal with it and Stiles stopped, trying to merge the two men in his impossibly full brain.
Derek watched him, his eyes their normal pale green while Stiles leaned his forehead against Derek's and took a deep breath.
"Were you a werewolf back then too?"
Derek laughed and Stiles never thought he would hear that sound and at the same time he'd missed it. Remembering all the different lifetimes was still kind of dizzying. The kiss on his forehead made him feel like he should object, but after that emotional upload of his various lifetimes he was tired.
He only groaned a little as Derek moved off of him and pulled him up off the floor. He didn't object as Derek pushed him onto his bed and sat beside him, both their backs pressed against the headboard.
"No, he's new. Maybe with his help I can keep you safe. How much do you remember? Who do you remember?"
Stiles shrugged and tried not to freak out that he wasn't freaking out about Derek's arm around his shoulders and the fond look on his face. He wasn't used to that look and before tonight would have swore Derek had only two facial expressions; pissed-off-homicidal and pissed-off-but-not-yet-homicidal.
Stiles cleared his throat. "It's all kind of blurred together right now but some things are clearer than others. Maybe these are the big moments? I don't know. I feel like Rod Serling should be around somewhere. Let's see, I remember Tarik and the garden where we hung out. I remember the way Tarik looked at me, like I was this thing he could never fully understand, but he was going to try to anyway."
He didn't want to think about getting sick yet, the way it took him away from someone, when he'd wanted so very much to stay. He kept talking.
"I remember Havoc. And what kind of name was that, Derek, seriously? When you and your crew boarded the ship, I hid below decks but you found me. You had blood on your shirt. You pulled me out of my hiding spot and tied a rope around my hands." He stopped when Derek frowned. "What?"
Derek shook his head. "I don't remember being him much. I get brief flashes sometimes but he's the most faint."
Stiles nodded and reached down and pulled a notebook and pen from his back pack. "We need to keep track of who we were back then, names and where we met, and maybe that will help."
Derek cleared his throat. "Just like that, you believe me?"
Stiles laughed softly and fondly. Tarik had always thought Genim would stop loving him if he found out something bad. Seemed like some of those characteristics had cropped up in this lifetime too.
He had a brief flash of Derek when he was Morgan, the way Morgan used to try and not say anything about Stiles' thievery and how it had bothered him. Stiles had been Thomas then, and he'd known, but some part of him had been perverse. He'd liked making Morgan uncomfortable and wanted Morgan to choose between his job as a cop and Thomas.
Stiles figured he'd been kind of an asshole back then but he couldn't go back and change that. Plus, Morgan never gave up on him, never made giving up his criminal ways an ultimatum. At some point Thomas had realized he came first with someone like he'd never done before and he'd stopped hurting Morgan.
Stiles took notes, trying to separate each lifetime into some sort of order. With Derek adding details it was easier.
Derek tapped the notepad. "This was the second time we met. I think there may be more life times when we didn't meet for some reason, but I have no proof and no memories of those lives. It's just a feeling I have."
Stiles nodded. "Yeah, I can see that happening. Childhood deaths, or accidents before we had a chance to meet. Maybe the geographic locations were too far from each other." He tapped the second pair of names; Havoc and Andrew. "On the ship when I saw you for the first time, I remember feeling shocked and excited and relieved. Like I'd been waiting on you if that even makes sense. Though the blood and smoke and screams of the dying kind of pushed that all away. Afterwards I was terrified I was going to die."
Derek frowned and Stiles had to resist the urge to take one of his thumbs and rub at the frown until it disappeared. Robbie used to do that to Liam and Liam's eyes would go dark and he'd kiss Robbie breathless.
Stiles tapped on Robbie and Liam, the third time they'd met. "You said this was the first time you realized your dreams were really memories of us?"
Derek nodded and swallowed hard. "Yeah, it took me awhile to believe it. The memories were like movies, you know? But back then I had no clue what a movie was. I just had these images, these scenes that would play out and it was like I could smell and hear and feel what was happening."
Stiles scribbled more notes. "Did you say anything to Robbie?"
Derek grunted and shook his head. "I didn't know how to bring it up. I thought he'd think I was crazy and I didn't want to lose him." Stiles watched Derek take a deep breath and close his eyes. He sank further down on the bed and turned onto his side, one hand stroking Stiles waist. "I should have said something. I thought I had all the time in the world."
Stiles gave in to the urge to pull Derek closer. He carded a hand through Derek's hair. He still had to learn more about Derek in this lifetime, but he already felt so close to him. It turned him on and made him wary at the same time.
Derek laughed, deep and wicked. He moved closer to rest his head in Stiles' lap. He opened his eyes and smirked at Stiles, his voice half-growl, half sing-song. "I know what you're thinking."
Stiles laughed nervously and ran a thumb over one of Derek's eyebrows. He was hard and he hoped his face wasn't that red.
Derek grabbed his hand and sucked a finger into his mouth. Stiles gasped and squirmed. Yes, he was a virgin but he had these memories of him and Derek together; their skin fever-hot, bodies making slick sounds, and mind numbing pleasure.
Stiles didn't object when Derek pushed the notebook onto the floor and crawled on top of him. After giving his finger a brief playful nip he withdrew it slowly and leaned down to lick at Stiles’ lips. Even when Stiles opened his mouth, Derek continued to lick at his lips, one lick over his nose made Stiles laugh while Derek proceeded to lick every inch of Stiles' face.
"I thought we were making out. Why do I feel like it's bath time?"
Stiles put his hands around Derek's shoulders as the werewolf snorted and kept licking. He really seemed to like a spot right below Stiles' right ear. He licked it over and over before sucking a tender piece of skin into his mouth and almost gnawing on it.
Stiles went from laughing to moaning. His hands tightened on Derek's shoulders as he tried to rub his body against the man above him. Derek let go of his neck with a reluctant slurp and met Stiles' rubbing with some of own. His voice was slurred and he sounded drunk. Stiles shuddered as Derek's warm breath ghosted against his ear.
"I really want to fuck you until you scream, but we need to wait."
Stiles rubbed his erection against Derek's and panted. He moaned pitifully when Derek rolled off of him. He tried to catch his breath as Derek stood up and adjusted the bulge in his jeans.
Stiles knew it was unfair but he leaned back on his elbows and spread his legs even more. He looked at Derek from underneath his eyelashes. These new memories gave him invaluable insight into how to get Derek to rip both their clothes off and fuck him stupid.
His pose got him a groan from Derek, but when the man walked or rather, hobbled over to Stiles' desk chair, Stiles sighed and sat up. He tried to get his body to calm down.
"Obviously you have something else on your mind instead of taking advantage of my young, nubile, and willing body."
When that got him a glare, Stiles smirked and made a 'carry on' gesture with his hands.
Derek crossed his arms and frowned. "We still need to find out who bit Scott. This Alpha seems a little off, like something's not right. Normally, an Alpha would have never left Scott out in the woods after he bit him."
Stiles nodded and picked his notebook back up. They talked for another hour before Derek left. Stiles allowed himself one quick kiss because if they did anymore he was seriously going to tie Derek to his bed and ride him like a wild mustang. If Stiles ended up jerking off to that image, well that was between him and his bed.
After finding out about all these past lives, Stiles felt different. He was still him, but he was more than that and knowing that he'd been these different people gave him a boost. He spent some time in the library researching reincarnation and did even more research when he got home.
Then everything seemed to start happening at once. He and Scott thinking Scott's boss was the Alpha, being trapped in the school after the Alpha gutted Derek and that, that right there almost made Stiles give it all up.
If not for the ensuing horror movie cliché of running through the dark and empty school and finding Jackson, Lydia and Allison he wasn't sure what he would have done. When Scott told them Derek had killed someone, Stiles had tiredly gone along with it. He just wanted the night to be over so he could go mourn in peace.
Was this how Derek had felt all those times when Stiles' had died first? He couldn't imagine it and later when the Alpha was gone and Derek's body was missing, Stiles wasn't sure what he felt; some combination of happiness, relief and worry.
Two nights later Derek showed up and since he was pissed about being a murder suspect again, Stiles let him sulk in the corner in his room as he and Danny tried to track down the phone. He knew it was better to sometimes let Derek simmer than confront him.
Stiles dreamed and knew things happening were things that had happened to him when he was Andrew. Midway through the dream the ship he was on was attacked. He met Tarik, now with the nickname Havoc, Stiles assumed for all the chaos he created, as he and his crew terrorized English and Spanish ships alike.
Havoc took Andrew off the ship and put him under his protection. It wasn't exactly a comfortable protection, but better than any other to be had in the middle of a crew of pirates. Havoc was used to his orders being followed. After a few black eyes, Andrew learned never to argue with him in front of his crew. When they were alone, Havoc would sometimes listen.
He didn't take Andrew to his bed right away though Stiles can remember the looks Havoc would give him; lust filled and puzzled at the same time. They were looks that someone gave another person they were sure they knew, they just didn't know how they knew them.
Maybe Havoc had some foggy memories of Genim and that bled over into how he treated Andrew. Most of the time he was rough and impatient and frowned when Andrew would go on and on about his former work.
Havoc had refused to even send a letter to the monastery Andrew had been headed for to see if they would pay a ransom. He never gave Andrew a clear answer as to why he wouldn't even try. As time passed and Andrew became more than Havoc's cabin boy, Andrew ceased to care.
He felt he was where he was supposed to be. When the night came that Havoc wanted more, Andrew was more than willing even though his teachings said he was going to hell.
Stiles shuddered as he remembered the day Her Majesty's Royal Navy showed up at the port town where Havoc and his crew rested in between their attacks. There had been explosions, smoke and screaming. He'd found Havoc near his ship, broken and bleeding. Andrew didn't care. He'd tried to drag Havoc off somewhere and hide him, but the soldiers came and when he wouldn't let go one of the men shoved a pistol against his stomach and pulled the trigger.
Hands were grabbing and pulling at Stiles as he clutched his stomach and moaned. A voice reached him and he opened his eyes to find Derek bent over his bed furiously shaking his shoulders.
Stiles didn't care that his face was wet and his nose was running. He pulled Derek down and buried his face in the warm spot between Derek's neck and shoulder. His stomach felt like it was on fire and he had to resist checking to see if he was bleeding out like he'd done on that dock.
Derek climbed on top of him and whispered, "Shh, shh, hey, it's okay. It's okay. Genim, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. I swear it. I swear with everything I am, or ever will be, that I will not leave you."
The words felt familiar and Stiles calmed down. He remembered Tarik saying the same words in the garden they'd both loved. He wiped his face and pulled back a little to look at Derek. The open, fierce look on Derek's would have looked strange before all of this, but now it looked safe and Stiles needed that so much.
He rubbed his face against Derek's jaw before sweeping a kiss over his mouth. "They took you away and-and shot me when I wouldn't let go, they just dragged you away and I knew you were dying. You had so many injuries and I couldn't help you. I loved you so much and I couldn't move! They just left me there and dragged you away. For all that I was a former man of God, I would have given my soul to the devil if he would have appeared and agreed to help you. English Bastards!"
Stiles was unaware his words were spoken with the same Scottish brogue Andrew had used.
Stiles accepted the second kiss from Derek before squirming and pushing Derek's jacket off his shoulders. "Get everything off. I have to check, I have to make sure you're okay. You always hid your injuries from me. Remember when you got the splinter in your foot and it got infected because you were being stupid?"
Derek laughed and pulled his shirt over his head and sat back down on the bed to pull off his shoes. He knew from experience it was best to just do what Genim wanted or he'd just keep talking and pushing until you ended up doing what he wanted after he gave you some round about talk.
Stiles pushed Derek down onto his bed and shifted onto his knees right beside him. He touched Derek's shoulders, his arms and his hands. He ignored Derek's groans as Stiles' fingers traced the visible veins in his lower arms and hands. He ran a hand over Derek's stomach.
He paused at the hardening cock before giving it a light caress and continuing to inspect Derek's thighs. He bit his lip at Derek's muttered, "You have got to be kidding me."
No matter who Derek was, he'd always been so impatient and sometimes Stiles used to let him have his way and sometimes, well sometimes, he'd make him wait.
Stiles ran his hands down Derek's legs, sighing in relief. One of them had been broken back on the dock.
He stood up and pulled off his pajama bottoms and his tee-shirt. The way Derek was looking at him made him feel powerful and something clinched in his chest. He was fiercely glad that Derek had asked him about his dreams so they could have this again.
Many might think that he was just an hyperactive 16 year old boy and what did he know about love or anything? Stiles knew he loved loyally and forever. No matter what anyone thought, he belonged to this man and this man belonged to him. Together they could do anything, and he needed to turn off his thoughts before he started trying to write Derek a poem.
Stiles crawled on top of the werewolf's warm body and settled down on Derek's upper thighs. He touched the wet tip of Derek's cock before licking the taste from his fingers. Then he touched his own hardness and slipped his fingers into Derek's mouth. Derek grabbed his hand and lightly nibbled on the fingers, lips greedy against Stiles' skin, teeth blunt and human for now.
Stiles let him keep that hand and took his other hand and licked it before grabbing his own dick and stroking it. His heart was racing and he wanted to come right then and there but he wanted something else even more.
The hand Derek was still licking was slick now and he pulled it away and used it to fist Derek's hardness and stroke. His rhythm was jerky and uncoordinated because no matter what he remembered, this was his first time touching someone besides himself.
Derek's eyes were a bright blue as he groaned and pushed his dick further into Stiles' grip. He sat up and grabbed the back of Stiles neck.
It was Stiles turn to groan as Derek thrust his tongue in and out of Stiles' mouth. He cursed into Derek's mouth as the werewolf reached down and stroked both their cocks together. The grip was tighter and rougher than Stiles was used to but he liked it and after a few jerks he came, hands gripped tight on Derek's shoulders, hips rolling smooth and steady. Derek was right behind him. Stiles rested his forehead against Derek's. Derek's voice was half growl.
"Is your Dad here?"
Stiles laughed loudly. "This is the wrong time to be asking! Oh my god, I think if he was here, there'd be a gun in your face and a very pissed of father demanding an explanation." He laughed again and when Derek joined in, it was almost as good as the orgasm he'd just had. Almost.
Stiles thought he was going to go crazy. Between trying to prevent Scott from killing him and keeping his dad in the dark, Stiles was being run ragged. Then there was Jackson being an asshole while Scott had drama galore with Allison and her crazy gun toting family. He was happy when he made first line, but when he had to miss the game he didn’t care as much as he thought he would. He and Derek were close to discovering who the Alpha was.
Then Derek saved him from his comatose, but just faking it! uncle, and it was like everyone in the whole town had gone crazy. Peter Hale was trying to date Scott’s mom and Derek decided to disappear. As he and Scott rode up to ‘save’ Jackson from Allison’s dad, Stiles had to wonder when it became opposite week or whatever.
When the love of his teenage life, well before the whole Derek and former lives thing, asked him to the formal, Stiles figured it’d be fun. That, of course, had to turn to shit too.
As Stiles knelt next to Lydia's body and looked into Peter's eyes he knew he was going to die. He tried not to flinch at the blood dripping from Peter's chin. There had been too many near misses involving Peter for Stiles' luck to continue, like escaping him at the hospital, and later hitting his car.
The rest of the night seemed to blur by so fast, and happen in slow motion at the same time. Helping Peter find Derek, being offered the bite which he would have been fine with if it was Derek doing the offering. He was so tired when he got to the hospital, only to be met with his angry and worried dad.
Then Chris Argent showed up and wasn't that fun? There was no way he'd tell this man anything that would harm Derek or Scott. But he did tell him about his sister. Afterwards, only the threat to Derek made him grab Jackson's keys.
The moon shone bright on the figures in front of the burnt out Hale house. Stiles didn't hesitate as he threw the bottle at a wolfed out Peter. He could only gawk at the caught bottle. It was all over, Peter the winner take all, when Scott yelled at Allison and she became Diana of the hunt.
Stiles would be lying if he said he didn't feel bad to see Peter on fire after all he'd been through, but all he had to do was remember Lydia's cold body and he decided he could live with this. When Jackson threw his own bottle, Stiles didn't try and stop him.
Stiles watched Derek's clawed hand raise and slash down across Peter's throat. The air was thick with smoke, blood, and power. Something seemed to thrum through Stiles, fierce and triumphant. Derek turned around and Stiles' heart thumped loudly when his eyes turned red and he growled out, "I'm the Alpha now."
Stiles waited until Chris Argent took Allison's necklace and planted it on Kate's body. He nodded to Derek as he and Scott took off for the hospital to see if Lydia was going to be a werewolf.
The next day was a Saturday and Stiles managed to drag his tired and bruised body out of bed at noon. His dad was at work, wrapping up the deaths of Kate Argent and Peter Hale. The newspaper was full of misinformation and Stiles just wanted to eat his cereal and go back to sleep.
The knock on his front door had him shuffling to answer it. He was kind of shocked to see Derek, but moved back to let him inside. They both stood there for a moment.
Derek didn't look different but he carried himself differently and Stiles made a mental note to grill him about being an Alpha. He didn't say anything when Derek moved closer and pulled him into his arms. He hugged Derek tightly and felt him relax. He buried his face in Derek's shirt and rubbed it back and forth. "Did you think I was going to change my mind?"
Stiles looked up when Derek shrugged.
"Last night didn't change anything, Fido." He shook his head and grabbed Derek's hand. He pulled him into the kitchen and got Derek his own bowl of cereal. He decided he was still hungry and fixed a turkey sandwich. When he saw Derek eying his sandwich he fixed him one too. He listened when Derek told him he'd bit Jackson.
Stiles snorted. "Don't know if that was a good idea. He's an arrogant asshole even without the super wolfy powers. How about you not change anyone else without discussing it first?"
That got him another shrug and Stiles laughed. He had the strangest feeling that this lifetime was going to be the most interesting one yet.
Epilogue: Year 2103
Vincent made his way off the ship and onto the space station. It was more than he could have ever imagined. He looked around and smiled, ready for a new life.
Even with all his research he wasn't prepared for the slight gravity changes. He stumbled and would have fell if not for a hand that caught his arm. He felt his face turning red as he straightened up and met green eyes.
The man was stunning and his smile made Vincent's heart beat a little faster. The man moved a little closer before he let go of Vincent's arm. He held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Brandon."
Vincent shook Brandon's hand and felt a shock of recognition go through him. Brandon's eyes widened and his hand pulled Vincent closer. They ignored the people moving around them.
Brandon's voice sounded shocked and pleased.
"Stiles?"
Vincent smiled and laughed loudly, not caring when people stared at them.
"Looks like you were wrong about Beacon Hills being our last time."
Brandon smirked and let go of his hand to pick up Vincent's bag. "Well, it's not like this is an exact science. What say we get you settled and do some catching up?"
Vincent followed Brandon down a copper and silver colored corridor. Running off to space just became the best idea ever.
The End