Ready (Gift to Comm)
Title: Ready
Author: reia_writes
Recipient: Gift to Community
Pairings: Stiles/Derek, implied Scott/Allison, Boyd/Eric, Lydia/Jackson
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~2,100
Warnings: language, allusions to past trauma/violence
Summary: He’s no longer the boy that Derek met all those years ago, loudmouthed and brave beyond words, but seeing him like this is like looking ten years back and his heart thuds heavily in his heart.
Dawn is just starting to break over the horizon, orange tendrils of light not yet warm enough to dispel the lingering freeze from the night. All around creatures have started waking up, filling the air with noise and life. It’s the not so quiet moments like these when he enjoys surveying his territory the most. The park didn’t allow overnight camping and wouldn’t open for another two hours. Knowing that he was the only person for miles gave him a sense of pride; these were his lands, his pack’s lands.
A twig snaps somewhere nearby and he hunches up, snarling slightly as an unknown entity closes in on him. It takes him a surprising amount of time to place the scent and once it registers in his head he relaxes and waits, anticipation building in every bone. Not even a minute has passed when a figure comes over the small hill, clad in faded jeans and a ratty t-shirt, familiar face older and wizened by events that he’s only heard about second hand.
He hasn’t allowed himself to think too much about when, or if, he would see Stiles ever again, but in the rare moments of indulgence he had thought it’d be something…more. Instead it’s just him resting on his haunches, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth and a lopsided grin he hasn’t seen in far too long being shot his way.
Stiles comes to a stop beside him and drops down on the ground, not seeming to care that the ground was still wet with melting morning dew or that the wind was most likely biting at his exposed skin. Kid had never seemed too keen with following rules and he wasn’t sure why he had expected that to change. They sit quietly, watching as the sun rises higher and the forest around them fully wakes, a cacophony of sound that let him know his territory was healthy.
Pressed side to side, human to wolf, he can feel when Stiles takes a long, deep breath and knows they’re finally going to a long overdue talk.
“I didn’t think I would ever be coming back.” His voice is the same, still him in a way that only wolves could ever understand, but deeper now, more sure. “At first it was because I didn’t want to, glad to be as far away from here and the craziness we had lived.” A pause, Stiles’ hand coming up to rub at his head, his hair having grown out and softly styled to still meet military regulations. “In the past four years it was because I never knew if I was going to live to see the next day.”
Without thinking he whines softly and settles down, resting his large head in the kid’s lap. Laughing softly, Stiles rests a hand on his head and scratches gently between his ears. He huffs out in contentment before tossing his head lightly, indicating that he’s listening.
“When I found myself blinking up at the dusty sky, shrapnel sticking out of my side, and desperately wishing I was back here, I realized I’d only been kidding myself.” He’d heard about it, through Scott, had heard about the worry, the frustration, and then the anger when Stiles had refused to come back home and had only jumped right back in. “I had planned on going career, signing on for twenty years, possibly more. It wouldn’t have been that hard, actually. You may not believe me but I was surprisingly good at blowing shit up.”
He huffs again and presses up against the hand still scratching at him, growling low in his throat. Even though it had been well over seven, no wait eight, years ago he still remembers the day that Stiles had shown up at his doorstop, weary and exhausted in a way that no eighteen year old high school graduate had the right to be. The kid had stared up at him with a soft, broken expression that hurt in ways he’d never expected, and spoken just loud enough to be heard. I enlisted. Marines. Boot camp starts in one week. That had been the last time he had seen Stiles, let alone spoken to him.
“My CO was pretty damned surprised when I refused to re-enlist. I was as well, to be honest. Like I said, I never expected to come back.” The hand petting him stops and moves down the back of his neck and to his side, patting him gently. “It doesn’t make sense, especially now looking back, but I really thought that I would finally be free of everything. An absolutely crazy part of me was sure that the further away I was from Beacon Hills, from the pack, from you, the better off I would be.” Stiles laughs dryly and brings his other hand up to scrub roughly at the stubble on his sun weathered face. “I’m sure you can imagine just how much of a surprise it was when I was attacked and bitten.”
Hearing those words raises his hackles and he pulls away, sniffing agitatedly at Stiles, trying to root out any possible infection. Hands push him away and he’s brought nose to snout with the kid, those golden eyes that have haunted his dreams since that last day staring him down kindly. “I’m fine, I promise. It was an errant, recently turned beta trying to prove himself to his sire.” Stiles rolls his eyes and his amused smile dies down as he sits back, hands dropping away. “It really wasn’t what I expected to find out in the desert in the middle of fuck knows where.”
Another sigh and Stiles looks away, out into the brightening morning light. “Running from one ridiculous situation and right into another wasn’t my brightest of ideas, but I needed it, I think. Especially after.”
There’s no need for them to mention the after, those memories burned into their minds and never to be forgotten. It had taken a long time for Derek to forgive himself and an even longer time for Stiles. He shakes his head and nudges at Stiles with his wet nose, a low grunt the only noise he makes.
“I was so furious, so angry at you. Just looking at you made me want to throw up and I hated knowing that I was the one thing tearing the pack apart.” Before he can protest Stiles holds a hand up and shrugs. “I was and you know it.” Another shrug and a bitter smile graces his lips. “So I did the only thing I could do, I ran. I mean, what else did I have left?”
And that’s the gist of it, because Stiles is right. Hearing it still hurts and he can’t help the soft whimper he lets out, his head dipping slightly as Stiles refuses to look his way.
“I was a hot mess and it took a lot of being yelled at and a lot crazy training for my head to fit on straight again. The entire time I was away I thought about the pack. I wondered at how Allison and Scott could still be so disgustingly cute together, at how they had managed to deal with Isaac’s epic crush. I worried that Lydia would break when I found out about Jackson. And I really wish I had been here for Boyd and Erica’s wedding.” Finally Stiles looked at him and bit his lip. “I thought of you the most, though I wasn’t really sure why. And when I figured it out? I just got pissed at you all over again.”
He snarls lightly in response, getting up on all fours and stepping away, heart hammering away in his chest. It’s the only way he can defend himself and he’s stupidly glad when Stiles just meets his stare straight on and curls his lip in an ugly sneer instead of flinching away. “I admit I was pretty stupid at not having figured it out sooner but I really wish you had told me or at least hinted at it. I hate that you kept it hidden for so long and I just -” Stiles closes his eyes and takes a ragged breath, lips tight at the edges. “I just wish that I hadn’t figured out how fucking in love with you I am right as a bullet ripped through my shoulder. And I hate you so much for not being there for me.”
They stare at each other in silence, the words echoing between them, before he moves, bones and fur melting and shifting as human arms wrap around Stiles and pull him close. It’s been too long, far too long, but he knows how to read the impending signs, knows that if he doesn’t stop it now, Stiles’ panic attack can last up to well over an hour. He murmurs soft words of assurance, tightening his hold as Stiles grips at his sides, nails digging into skin and shoulders heaving with held back sobs.
He can’t say how long they’ve sat there clinging to each other when Stiles finally breathes shakily and pulls away slightly. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, snot running down his nose and lips chapped and bitten. The way his voice quavers when he says, “Derek,” softly, reverently, sends a pang of longing so deep in his chest that it’s all he can do to hold back his howl. He’s no longer the boy that Derek met all those years ago, loudmouthed and brave beyond words, but seeing him like this is like looking ten years back and his heart thuds heavily in his heart.
“I’m here, Stiles.”
Stiles nods and swallows, his eyes moving rapidly as he slowly calms his breathing. He smiles finally, a shaky thing that breaks Derek’s heart all over again. “You know why I left. I wasn’t ready.”
He nods, his hand pressing lightly against Stiles’ cheek. “I know.”
“I am now.”
Derek could ask him if he was sure, if he didn’t want to think about it some more, but he knows that it’s true, Stiles is finally ready. They stand together and Stiles’ merely raises an eyebrow when he finally realizes that Derek is completely unclothed. He just smiles ruefully and goes to turn them so they can head back to the house, to their pack. But Stiles pushes him away and his soft smile grows into a wide grin that Derek has missed seeing. Before he can say anything Stiles’ is taking his shirt off, letting the faded cloth drop to the forest floor.
It takes him an embarrassingly long moment to realize what’s happening but then Stiles is taking Derek’s hand and pressing it against his side, right where an Alpha bite would go. He frowns and then the implications of it hit him, his breath leaving in one surprised rush. He’s barely had a moment to open his mouth when Stiles starts talking.
“The beta that attacked me, his alpha came to see me, to apologize, once he realized that I knew about werewolves. He was this tiny man that looked way too old to be alive. I was expecting an offer, compensation, anything. Instead he took one look at me and said, ‘You should get marked if you’re not going to take the bite and you’re so far from home. I would hate to see anyone steal you from your mate. That was three years ago.”
Derek’s frown grows and he looks down to where Stiles has laced their fingers together, hand squeezing his tightly. He moves his hand and feels another kick to the chest when he sees a small version of his tattoo adorning Stiles’ skin. There’s so much he could say but all he can do is drop to his knees and press his nose against the tattoo, breathing Stiles in.
“Derek,” he looks up and sees the soft look Stiles is giving him. They still have too much to say to each other, too much bad blood between them, and he hates that he let things get this way. “I’m ready.”
There’s no doubt in the look he’s giving Derek, just a quiet assurance that slowly fills the bottomless hole in his heart. He knows they’ll hurt each other again, that they’ll argue and fight, that things left unsaid so many years ago will come back to bite them in the ass. But he also knows that they’re finally on the same page, that the one person he’s been waiting for all this years is finally his. He smiles up at Stiles, a stupid grin that makes Stiles laugh lightly and shake his head in fondness.
He lets his wolf take over, teeth elongating and senses overwhelmed with the feeling of mate. When he finally bites into the soft skin bared to him he feels absolute relief. His pack is whole again.
Author: reia_writes
Recipient: Gift to Community
Pairings: Stiles/Derek, implied Scott/Allison, Boyd/Eric, Lydia/Jackson
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~2,100
Warnings: language, allusions to past trauma/violence
Summary: He’s no longer the boy that Derek met all those years ago, loudmouthed and brave beyond words, but seeing him like this is like looking ten years back and his heart thuds heavily in his heart.
Dawn is just starting to break over the horizon, orange tendrils of light not yet warm enough to dispel the lingering freeze from the night. All around creatures have started waking up, filling the air with noise and life. It’s the not so quiet moments like these when he enjoys surveying his territory the most. The park didn’t allow overnight camping and wouldn’t open for another two hours. Knowing that he was the only person for miles gave him a sense of pride; these were his lands, his pack’s lands.
A twig snaps somewhere nearby and he hunches up, snarling slightly as an unknown entity closes in on him. It takes him a surprising amount of time to place the scent and once it registers in his head he relaxes and waits, anticipation building in every bone. Not even a minute has passed when a figure comes over the small hill, clad in faded jeans and a ratty t-shirt, familiar face older and wizened by events that he’s only heard about second hand.
He hasn’t allowed himself to think too much about when, or if, he would see Stiles ever again, but in the rare moments of indulgence he had thought it’d be something…more. Instead it’s just him resting on his haunches, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth and a lopsided grin he hasn’t seen in far too long being shot his way.
Stiles comes to a stop beside him and drops down on the ground, not seeming to care that the ground was still wet with melting morning dew or that the wind was most likely biting at his exposed skin. Kid had never seemed too keen with following rules and he wasn’t sure why he had expected that to change. They sit quietly, watching as the sun rises higher and the forest around them fully wakes, a cacophony of sound that let him know his territory was healthy.
Pressed side to side, human to wolf, he can feel when Stiles takes a long, deep breath and knows they’re finally going to a long overdue talk.
“I didn’t think I would ever be coming back.” His voice is the same, still him in a way that only wolves could ever understand, but deeper now, more sure. “At first it was because I didn’t want to, glad to be as far away from here and the craziness we had lived.” A pause, Stiles’ hand coming up to rub at his head, his hair having grown out and softly styled to still meet military regulations. “In the past four years it was because I never knew if I was going to live to see the next day.”
Without thinking he whines softly and settles down, resting his large head in the kid’s lap. Laughing softly, Stiles rests a hand on his head and scratches gently between his ears. He huffs out in contentment before tossing his head lightly, indicating that he’s listening.
“When I found myself blinking up at the dusty sky, shrapnel sticking out of my side, and desperately wishing I was back here, I realized I’d only been kidding myself.” He’d heard about it, through Scott, had heard about the worry, the frustration, and then the anger when Stiles had refused to come back home and had only jumped right back in. “I had planned on going career, signing on for twenty years, possibly more. It wouldn’t have been that hard, actually. You may not believe me but I was surprisingly good at blowing shit up.”
He huffs again and presses up against the hand still scratching at him, growling low in his throat. Even though it had been well over seven, no wait eight, years ago he still remembers the day that Stiles had shown up at his doorstop, weary and exhausted in a way that no eighteen year old high school graduate had the right to be. The kid had stared up at him with a soft, broken expression that hurt in ways he’d never expected, and spoken just loud enough to be heard. I enlisted. Marines. Boot camp starts in one week. That had been the last time he had seen Stiles, let alone spoken to him.
“My CO was pretty damned surprised when I refused to re-enlist. I was as well, to be honest. Like I said, I never expected to come back.” The hand petting him stops and moves down the back of his neck and to his side, patting him gently. “It doesn’t make sense, especially now looking back, but I really thought that I would finally be free of everything. An absolutely crazy part of me was sure that the further away I was from Beacon Hills, from the pack, from you, the better off I would be.” Stiles laughs dryly and brings his other hand up to scrub roughly at the stubble on his sun weathered face. “I’m sure you can imagine just how much of a surprise it was when I was attacked and bitten.”
Hearing those words raises his hackles and he pulls away, sniffing agitatedly at Stiles, trying to root out any possible infection. Hands push him away and he’s brought nose to snout with the kid, those golden eyes that have haunted his dreams since that last day staring him down kindly. “I’m fine, I promise. It was an errant, recently turned beta trying to prove himself to his sire.” Stiles rolls his eyes and his amused smile dies down as he sits back, hands dropping away. “It really wasn’t what I expected to find out in the desert in the middle of fuck knows where.”
Another sigh and Stiles looks away, out into the brightening morning light. “Running from one ridiculous situation and right into another wasn’t my brightest of ideas, but I needed it, I think. Especially after.”
There’s no need for them to mention the after, those memories burned into their minds and never to be forgotten. It had taken a long time for Derek to forgive himself and an even longer time for Stiles. He shakes his head and nudges at Stiles with his wet nose, a low grunt the only noise he makes.
“I was so furious, so angry at you. Just looking at you made me want to throw up and I hated knowing that I was the one thing tearing the pack apart.” Before he can protest Stiles holds a hand up and shrugs. “I was and you know it.” Another shrug and a bitter smile graces his lips. “So I did the only thing I could do, I ran. I mean, what else did I have left?”
And that’s the gist of it, because Stiles is right. Hearing it still hurts and he can’t help the soft whimper he lets out, his head dipping slightly as Stiles refuses to look his way.
“I was a hot mess and it took a lot of being yelled at and a lot crazy training for my head to fit on straight again. The entire time I was away I thought about the pack. I wondered at how Allison and Scott could still be so disgustingly cute together, at how they had managed to deal with Isaac’s epic crush. I worried that Lydia would break when I found out about Jackson. And I really wish I had been here for Boyd and Erica’s wedding.” Finally Stiles looked at him and bit his lip. “I thought of you the most, though I wasn’t really sure why. And when I figured it out? I just got pissed at you all over again.”
He snarls lightly in response, getting up on all fours and stepping away, heart hammering away in his chest. It’s the only way he can defend himself and he’s stupidly glad when Stiles just meets his stare straight on and curls his lip in an ugly sneer instead of flinching away. “I admit I was pretty stupid at not having figured it out sooner but I really wish you had told me or at least hinted at it. I hate that you kept it hidden for so long and I just -” Stiles closes his eyes and takes a ragged breath, lips tight at the edges. “I just wish that I hadn’t figured out how fucking in love with you I am right as a bullet ripped through my shoulder. And I hate you so much for not being there for me.”
They stare at each other in silence, the words echoing between them, before he moves, bones and fur melting and shifting as human arms wrap around Stiles and pull him close. It’s been too long, far too long, but he knows how to read the impending signs, knows that if he doesn’t stop it now, Stiles’ panic attack can last up to well over an hour. He murmurs soft words of assurance, tightening his hold as Stiles grips at his sides, nails digging into skin and shoulders heaving with held back sobs.
He can’t say how long they’ve sat there clinging to each other when Stiles finally breathes shakily and pulls away slightly. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, snot running down his nose and lips chapped and bitten. The way his voice quavers when he says, “Derek,” softly, reverently, sends a pang of longing so deep in his chest that it’s all he can do to hold back his howl. He’s no longer the boy that Derek met all those years ago, loudmouthed and brave beyond words, but seeing him like this is like looking ten years back and his heart thuds heavily in his heart.
“I’m here, Stiles.”
Stiles nods and swallows, his eyes moving rapidly as he slowly calms his breathing. He smiles finally, a shaky thing that breaks Derek’s heart all over again. “You know why I left. I wasn’t ready.”
He nods, his hand pressing lightly against Stiles’ cheek. “I know.”
“I am now.”
Derek could ask him if he was sure, if he didn’t want to think about it some more, but he knows that it’s true, Stiles is finally ready. They stand together and Stiles’ merely raises an eyebrow when he finally realizes that Derek is completely unclothed. He just smiles ruefully and goes to turn them so they can head back to the house, to their pack. But Stiles pushes him away and his soft smile grows into a wide grin that Derek has missed seeing. Before he can say anything Stiles’ is taking his shirt off, letting the faded cloth drop to the forest floor.
It takes him an embarrassingly long moment to realize what’s happening but then Stiles is taking Derek’s hand and pressing it against his side, right where an Alpha bite would go. He frowns and then the implications of it hit him, his breath leaving in one surprised rush. He’s barely had a moment to open his mouth when Stiles starts talking.
“The beta that attacked me, his alpha came to see me, to apologize, once he realized that I knew about werewolves. He was this tiny man that looked way too old to be alive. I was expecting an offer, compensation, anything. Instead he took one look at me and said, ‘You should get marked if you’re not going to take the bite and you’re so far from home. I would hate to see anyone steal you from your mate. That was three years ago.”
Derek’s frown grows and he looks down to where Stiles has laced their fingers together, hand squeezing his tightly. He moves his hand and feels another kick to the chest when he sees a small version of his tattoo adorning Stiles’ skin. There’s so much he could say but all he can do is drop to his knees and press his nose against the tattoo, breathing Stiles in.
“Derek,” he looks up and sees the soft look Stiles is giving him. They still have too much to say to each other, too much bad blood between them, and he hates that he let things get this way. “I’m ready.”
There’s no doubt in the look he’s giving Derek, just a quiet assurance that slowly fills the bottomless hole in his heart. He knows they’ll hurt each other again, that they’ll argue and fight, that things left unsaid so many years ago will come back to bite them in the ass. But he also knows that they’re finally on the same page, that the one person he’s been waiting for all this years is finally his. He smiles up at Stiles, a stupid grin that makes Stiles laugh lightly and shake his head in fondness.
He lets his wolf take over, teeth elongating and senses overwhelmed with the feeling of mate. When he finally bites into the soft skin bared to him he feels absolute relief. His pack is whole again.