Fic: Feel your energy rushing through me || Derek/Stiles || 14A
Tell me what to post about in April!
Feel your energy rushing through me
Derek/Stiles, 14A? More than PG, less than R. I don't know.
2700+ words, unbeta'd
Continuation of Changes on our hands and on our faces, oh, oh
AO3
I tried to post this last week when I realized I hadn't posted the first part so now that it is I can put this up! I don't know if there will be more of this or not, haven't felt inspired just yet but I like this 'verse. We'll see.
In retrospect it wasn't one of Stiles' smarter ideas.
He should have known Derek would figure out what he meant when Stiles said he was waiting for "a big one" (no ‘that's what she said' joke intended). Even when Stiles was mumbling to himself and didn't think Derek was paying the slightest bit of attention to him he knew.
It was a good thing he did realize what Stiles was up to because it likely saved his life.
Well, not likely.
See, Deaton was all about control now that Stiles was able to focus on his spark. Once Stiles discovered that even just thinking about Derek strengthened his abilities and made him able to handle the physical manifestation of his power he found out he could do all kinds of nifty things.
He'd yet to find out why Derek was the key and what that meant and neither of them had stepped a toe over that line to discuss it but it was there.
The big, old elephant in the room.
Deaton was pleased when Stiles showed off to him, a couple weeks after Derek tumbled into his room that night, and hadn't questioned how Stiles managed to develop his concentration so quickly but the glint in his eye let Stiles know Deaton had a pretty good idea.
Sure as hell hope I develop psychic abilities, too, Stiles thought, somewhat indignantly.
Anyway.
So Deaton was all about control now. Making sure Stiles could manipulate his power how he wanted and not just as a ball of light. As helpful as it was to have a way to see in the woods at night when the batteries died in his flashlight it was kind of useless otherwise.
"Intent is the most important tool in any mage's arsenal," Deaton told him during a training session. "Your power is the tool but how you wield it is what makes you powerful-in the best and worst of times. Control is how you distinguish in a moment's notice whether you're using it to help or harm."
"So you're saying using it to help us win on the lacrosse field is bad?" Stiles asked, tapping his chin with a finger.
Deaton just gave him that look.
Deaton gave him books to read up on about the balance of energies and power, influencing nature, the drain on his own resources as he drew and used from outside of himself-there was a lot. He kind of skimmed some of the more interesting stuff and played it by ear. Once Stiles had a handle on it he could feel the give and take with the power and he didn't know how he hadn't noticed it before.
He could play with electronics, kind of, and pow-wowed with Kira on how it felt for her and how she channelled her power. It wasn't his forte, though, and he had more difficulty with that than, say, pushing some energy into a failing African Violet and bringing it back to health.
It was a random afternoon when a storm was rolling in, one with the possibility of thunder and lightning, that he really started to understand his scope of ability. He'd been getting shocked every three seconds, it seemed, throughout the afternoon.
He shocked Scott, Lydia, his locker, the jeep- hell, even jingling his keys as he walked through the parking lot sent tingles up his arm. It felt like every cell in his body was buzzing as the storm approached.
He drove directly home and tried to ignore how his whole body was vibrating. His hands itched to literally spark with light and he just wanted to see what he could do today with it, see how far he could push himself.
He couldn't stand in the backyard like he wanted for fear of old Mrs. Johnson next door catching sight of him, so he opened his windows up as wide as they could and stood in front of them, ignoring the sideways rain that soaked him from midsection to his knees.
He could smell the sulphur like he was coated in it as his whole body adsorbed the excess energy from the storm. Every hair on his body stood up straight for hours after.
He wasn't sure what to do, how to test what he could possibly do. He ran to the garage and pulled out an old cracked flower pot with a bit of soil in it and found an impossibly old packet of morning-glory seeds.
He planted some of the seeds hastily, shoving them in the pot and spilling soil all over the carpet as he ran back to his room. He stood in front of the window again and hovered a hand over the pot, not really sure what he was doing.
Stiles cracked an eye and saw nothing happening. His mind went to Derek's face, imagined his eyes flashing blue at him through an impossible darkness, gathered himself and pushed.
Later that night when his dad got home and Stiles cleaned the dirt up, scrubbing some of the stains out on his hands and knees, his dad's eyes lit on the overflowing pot of flowers on the back deck.
"Nice flowers," he said lightly while Stiles grilled some chicken on the barbecue.
"Aren't they?" Stiles replied innocently and left it at that.
If a few more overly lush pots of flowers appeared in the following weeks neither of them mentioned it.
Stiles wanted to do more, though. Wanted to know just how far he could go, what he could do, how much he could take.
Derek showed up in his room on a random Thursday while Stiles was listening to music and doing some research for a history paper. He quickly, and happily abandoned it to sprawl in his bed with Derek half on top of him, kissing a path down Stiles' cheek and neck to where his moles disappeared under his shirt collar.
In the distance thunder rolled and Stiles' whole body jumped.
"You okay?" Derek asked immediately. Stiles' arms clutched at Derek's shoulders and he nodded frantically.
"Don't stop." Stiles could feel the electricity coming even before the first flash of lightning was visible in the distance.
He tugged at Derek's chin to pull him back up and kissed him deeply, then frantically. He maneuvered his body so he was fully cradling Derek between his legs, letting them fall apart so they were pressed together in a way they never had before.
Derek cupped Stiles' cheek and pulled back from the kiss slowly so he could look Stiles in the eyes. He didn't have to say anything but Stiles knew he was asking if this was okay, if Stiles meant it.
Stiles responded by arching up so he could rip his shirt over his head and then reached down to pull Derek's off, too. The shirts disappeared somewhere into the dark corner of Stiles' room with a flick of his hand. They'd never done this, choosing to take things at a pace that Stiles didn't know until that very moment was glacially slow.
The feeling of his chest rubbing on Derek's as their mouths clashed again, harder and more frantic was immediately overwhelming for Stiles. His skin was tingling everywhere he touched Derek, like the feeling from sitting in a massage chair until it reaches the back of your neck and your whole body lets go.
"Is that you?" Derek gasped against Stiles' lips, hands running up and down Stiles' sides. Stiles could feel the charge between them so deeply now that he expected that if he looked down he'd see a flow of electricity between them, like running a hand over a plasma globe.
Stiles loosened his grip on Derek's neck and rolled his head a little so he could see Derek's eyes. "Does it bother you?"
"Your eyes are blue," Derek whispered, staring down at him in awe. "Like before."
"I take that as a no?" Stiles asked, grinning.
Derek answered him with a growl and kissed him harshly. His hips jerked against Stiles' and Derek let out a strangled, "Sorry, sorry!"
Stiles responded by wrapping his arms around Derek's back and thrusting up against him. Derek cursed against Stiles' mouth and tore away to bury his face in Stiles' neck, licking and sucking there while their hips somehow found a smoother rhythm between awkward humping and stuttered jerks.
The storm moved in quickly, seemed to settle right over the house and Stiles could feel the bolts of lightning where they hit their targets outside as he saw them flash even behind closed eyes. All Stiles could hear was their harsh panting contrasting against the loud claps of thunder that seemed to rock the house every time there was a boom boom boomboomboomBOOM.
Stiles slipped his hand down the back of Derek's jeans and grabbed at the soft flesh there, digging his nails in and Derek reared back, his own eyes now a brilliant blue. He thrust against Stiles and his mouth found the tight cord of Stiles' neck, sinking human teeth in, enough to leave what would be a vivid bruise at the least.
Stiles cried out as he came and it felt like energy was shooting out of him, out of every part of him and it encircled them as it lit the room. Derek snarled as he came right after, holding tight to Stiles and snapping his hips hard and quick, until he slowed enough to collapse with a grunt, fully on top of Stiles.
Some time later, when Stiles finally became aware of the still silence in his room he came back to himself and realized Derek had rolled them over so he was sprawled on top and Derek was nosing and licking at the mark on Stiles' neck.
"What the fuck was that?" Stiles asked lazily. He didn't care how gross it might be to come in his pants, at that moment it was awesome.
"I have no idea," Derek replied, sounding just as spent.
"It was awesome," Stiles declared.
"Definitely."
So the elephant remained, now even bigger and taking up far too much room for Stiles' liking.
Stiles tried to do research to find anything about ability to control electricity or lightning or anything even about sparks but what he found was scant, aside from what Deaton taught him. He gave Deaton a very abridged rundown of what happened the night of the storm and he hmm'd and mmm'd in the appropriate places but offered no explanation or course of action.
Stiles started to think of things he could try on his own. Like during the next storm he took Derek with him to the woods and made sure he stayed far enough away he couldn't be tempted to end up with a dirty bare ass from rolling around in the grass and leaves so he could experiment.
He found that in Derek's presence he could use the electricity storms brought to make tiny lightning strikes from his hands. He could play with them, tossing the energy back and forth. He tried sending some lightning balls like in anime but they didn't get very far before they fizzled out.
But it was something.
Stiles became obsessed with the damn storms and practically became a meteorologist ask he tracked weather patterns and storm cycles. He spread his books across Derek's floor while looking up data on his laptop and muttered to himself while Derek sat on the couch reading a book and occasionally running a hand lazily through Stiles's hair when he sat back against Derek's legs.
So that's what led to Stiles being out in the preserve, in the middle of a wide open overlook as one of the biggest storms built on the edge of Beacon Hills. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have the power of that in his fingers, to know if it would be as amazing as he expected and if this would be it, if he'd finally know what he was meant to do.
Flash forward fifteen minutes, a few frantic voicemails from Derek and Scott and a bolt of lightning Stiles wasn't expecting quite like it happened and the next thing he knew he was blinking up at Derek who looked terrified.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Stiles!" Derek was yelling, over and over while he pushed on Stiles' chest until Stiles realized he wasn't breathing and took a loud, gasping, aching breath.
"You fucking asshole," Derek yelled as he gathered Stiles up in his arms and held him so tight Stiles was having trouble breathing again. Stiles slapped weakly at Derek's arm until he let him go a little but still held him close.
"What were you doing?" Derek demanded, still yelling. Stiles realized he was yelling because they were in the middle of the storm, with cold, heavy drops of rain pelting down on them and thunder echoing off the rocks and valleys of the preserve.
"I had to see if I could do it," Stiles replied loudly.
"Do what? Get your self killed?"
"No, just- just-what this is!" Stiles said, holding up his hands. "I don't understand what this is!"
"You can figure it out without getting yourself struck by lightning!"
"Too late," Stiles replied wryly. He could feel something like lighting in his brain, going off when he moved, like it was zapping him internally. It was weird more than anything.
"Let's get you out of here! Scott's looking for you with everyone else on the other sides of the territory," Derek said, dragging Stiles up. He kept his arms around Stiles, worried he was going to fall but Stiles felt oddly solid. His arms and legs shook a little but he was able to stand on his own.
"How did you know where to find me?" Stiles asked, rubbing his arms as if that would keep him warm, while they started to walk away.
Derek didn't look at him as he shrugged his jacket off and put it around Stiles, even though it wouldn't do anything since he was already soaked to the bone. "I just knew."
Stiles stopped walking. "How?" he insisted.
Derek was practically scowling. "I could feel you."
"Really?"
"Like a goddamn surge in my brain," Derek grumbled, but he didn't seem angry. He still didn't meet Stiles' eyes.
"Yeah?" Stiles' voice was quiet, breathy but he knew Derek would hear. "Since when?"
"Since that first night," Derek admitted. He finally looked at Stiles, eyes intense and boring right into Stiles' core. "With that tiny ball of light."
"Oh." Was all Stiles could say.
Stiles fisted his hand into Derek's shirt and pulled him close, never breaking eye contact. He didn't know what this meant, didn't know why or how or that the universe could be quite this generous in its offerings.
All he knew that rain and lightning and thunder aside he had to kiss Derek then and there or he might very well have died.
He pulled Derek in and shivered when their lips met, barely touching but the tingle started there, radiated through Stiles' body and he knew through Derek, too. He let go of Derek's shirt and laced their fingers together, letting the energy run between them, warming them both.
Stiles could feel the storm around him, how the bolt was forming overhead and that it really wasn't true that lightning didn't strike twice. But this time, before it hit him Stiles let one of Derek's hands go so he could raise it overhead and he caught the lightning in his palm, forced it around them like it was pouring over an umbrella.
It was the weirdest fucking sensation and the best one because Derek never stopped kissing him until the lightning finished crackling.
Stiles felt the energy in his hand and thought of it as a solid, workable form. He let it pool into his hand, formed into a ball, brought it to eye level. The center was white but the ball itself looked like it was bound by a blue band.
Blue like Stiles' spark and Derek's eyes.
Feel your energy rushing through me
Derek/Stiles, 14A? More than PG, less than R. I don't know.
2700+ words, unbeta'd
Continuation of Changes on our hands and on our faces, oh, oh
AO3
I tried to post this last week when I realized I hadn't posted the first part so now that it is I can put this up! I don't know if there will be more of this or not, haven't felt inspired just yet but I like this 'verse. We'll see.
In retrospect it wasn't one of Stiles' smarter ideas.
He should have known Derek would figure out what he meant when Stiles said he was waiting for "a big one" (no ‘that's what she said' joke intended). Even when Stiles was mumbling to himself and didn't think Derek was paying the slightest bit of attention to him he knew.
It was a good thing he did realize what Stiles was up to because it likely saved his life.
Well, not likely.
See, Deaton was all about control now that Stiles was able to focus on his spark. Once Stiles discovered that even just thinking about Derek strengthened his abilities and made him able to handle the physical manifestation of his power he found out he could do all kinds of nifty things.
He'd yet to find out why Derek was the key and what that meant and neither of them had stepped a toe over that line to discuss it but it was there.
The big, old elephant in the room.
Deaton was pleased when Stiles showed off to him, a couple weeks after Derek tumbled into his room that night, and hadn't questioned how Stiles managed to develop his concentration so quickly but the glint in his eye let Stiles know Deaton had a pretty good idea.
Sure as hell hope I develop psychic abilities, too, Stiles thought, somewhat indignantly.
Anyway.
So Deaton was all about control now. Making sure Stiles could manipulate his power how he wanted and not just as a ball of light. As helpful as it was to have a way to see in the woods at night when the batteries died in his flashlight it was kind of useless otherwise.
"Intent is the most important tool in any mage's arsenal," Deaton told him during a training session. "Your power is the tool but how you wield it is what makes you powerful-in the best and worst of times. Control is how you distinguish in a moment's notice whether you're using it to help or harm."
"So you're saying using it to help us win on the lacrosse field is bad?" Stiles asked, tapping his chin with a finger.
Deaton just gave him that look.
Deaton gave him books to read up on about the balance of energies and power, influencing nature, the drain on his own resources as he drew and used from outside of himself-there was a lot. He kind of skimmed some of the more interesting stuff and played it by ear. Once Stiles had a handle on it he could feel the give and take with the power and he didn't know how he hadn't noticed it before.
He could play with electronics, kind of, and pow-wowed with Kira on how it felt for her and how she channelled her power. It wasn't his forte, though, and he had more difficulty with that than, say, pushing some energy into a failing African Violet and bringing it back to health.
It was a random afternoon when a storm was rolling in, one with the possibility of thunder and lightning, that he really started to understand his scope of ability. He'd been getting shocked every three seconds, it seemed, throughout the afternoon.
He shocked Scott, Lydia, his locker, the jeep- hell, even jingling his keys as he walked through the parking lot sent tingles up his arm. It felt like every cell in his body was buzzing as the storm approached.
He drove directly home and tried to ignore how his whole body was vibrating. His hands itched to literally spark with light and he just wanted to see what he could do today with it, see how far he could push himself.
He couldn't stand in the backyard like he wanted for fear of old Mrs. Johnson next door catching sight of him, so he opened his windows up as wide as they could and stood in front of them, ignoring the sideways rain that soaked him from midsection to his knees.
He could smell the sulphur like he was coated in it as his whole body adsorbed the excess energy from the storm. Every hair on his body stood up straight for hours after.
He wasn't sure what to do, how to test what he could possibly do. He ran to the garage and pulled out an old cracked flower pot with a bit of soil in it and found an impossibly old packet of morning-glory seeds.
He planted some of the seeds hastily, shoving them in the pot and spilling soil all over the carpet as he ran back to his room. He stood in front of the window again and hovered a hand over the pot, not really sure what he was doing.
Stiles cracked an eye and saw nothing happening. His mind went to Derek's face, imagined his eyes flashing blue at him through an impossible darkness, gathered himself and pushed.
Later that night when his dad got home and Stiles cleaned the dirt up, scrubbing some of the stains out on his hands and knees, his dad's eyes lit on the overflowing pot of flowers on the back deck.
"Nice flowers," he said lightly while Stiles grilled some chicken on the barbecue.
"Aren't they?" Stiles replied innocently and left it at that.
If a few more overly lush pots of flowers appeared in the following weeks neither of them mentioned it.
Stiles wanted to do more, though. Wanted to know just how far he could go, what he could do, how much he could take.
Derek showed up in his room on a random Thursday while Stiles was listening to music and doing some research for a history paper. He quickly, and happily abandoned it to sprawl in his bed with Derek half on top of him, kissing a path down Stiles' cheek and neck to where his moles disappeared under his shirt collar.
In the distance thunder rolled and Stiles' whole body jumped.
"You okay?" Derek asked immediately. Stiles' arms clutched at Derek's shoulders and he nodded frantically.
"Don't stop." Stiles could feel the electricity coming even before the first flash of lightning was visible in the distance.
He tugged at Derek's chin to pull him back up and kissed him deeply, then frantically. He maneuvered his body so he was fully cradling Derek between his legs, letting them fall apart so they were pressed together in a way they never had before.
Derek cupped Stiles' cheek and pulled back from the kiss slowly so he could look Stiles in the eyes. He didn't have to say anything but Stiles knew he was asking if this was okay, if Stiles meant it.
Stiles responded by arching up so he could rip his shirt over his head and then reached down to pull Derek's off, too. The shirts disappeared somewhere into the dark corner of Stiles' room with a flick of his hand. They'd never done this, choosing to take things at a pace that Stiles didn't know until that very moment was glacially slow.
The feeling of his chest rubbing on Derek's as their mouths clashed again, harder and more frantic was immediately overwhelming for Stiles. His skin was tingling everywhere he touched Derek, like the feeling from sitting in a massage chair until it reaches the back of your neck and your whole body lets go.
"Is that you?" Derek gasped against Stiles' lips, hands running up and down Stiles' sides. Stiles could feel the charge between them so deeply now that he expected that if he looked down he'd see a flow of electricity between them, like running a hand over a plasma globe.
Stiles loosened his grip on Derek's neck and rolled his head a little so he could see Derek's eyes. "Does it bother you?"
"Your eyes are blue," Derek whispered, staring down at him in awe. "Like before."
"I take that as a no?" Stiles asked, grinning.
Derek answered him with a growl and kissed him harshly. His hips jerked against Stiles' and Derek let out a strangled, "Sorry, sorry!"
Stiles responded by wrapping his arms around Derek's back and thrusting up against him. Derek cursed against Stiles' mouth and tore away to bury his face in Stiles' neck, licking and sucking there while their hips somehow found a smoother rhythm between awkward humping and stuttered jerks.
The storm moved in quickly, seemed to settle right over the house and Stiles could feel the bolts of lightning where they hit their targets outside as he saw them flash even behind closed eyes. All Stiles could hear was their harsh panting contrasting against the loud claps of thunder that seemed to rock the house every time there was a boom boom boomboomboomBOOM.
Stiles slipped his hand down the back of Derek's jeans and grabbed at the soft flesh there, digging his nails in and Derek reared back, his own eyes now a brilliant blue. He thrust against Stiles and his mouth found the tight cord of Stiles' neck, sinking human teeth in, enough to leave what would be a vivid bruise at the least.
Stiles cried out as he came and it felt like energy was shooting out of him, out of every part of him and it encircled them as it lit the room. Derek snarled as he came right after, holding tight to Stiles and snapping his hips hard and quick, until he slowed enough to collapse with a grunt, fully on top of Stiles.
Some time later, when Stiles finally became aware of the still silence in his room he came back to himself and realized Derek had rolled them over so he was sprawled on top and Derek was nosing and licking at the mark on Stiles' neck.
"What the fuck was that?" Stiles asked lazily. He didn't care how gross it might be to come in his pants, at that moment it was awesome.
"I have no idea," Derek replied, sounding just as spent.
"It was awesome," Stiles declared.
"Definitely."
So the elephant remained, now even bigger and taking up far too much room for Stiles' liking.
Stiles tried to do research to find anything about ability to control electricity or lightning or anything even about sparks but what he found was scant, aside from what Deaton taught him. He gave Deaton a very abridged rundown of what happened the night of the storm and he hmm'd and mmm'd in the appropriate places but offered no explanation or course of action.
Stiles started to think of things he could try on his own. Like during the next storm he took Derek with him to the woods and made sure he stayed far enough away he couldn't be tempted to end up with a dirty bare ass from rolling around in the grass and leaves so he could experiment.
He found that in Derek's presence he could use the electricity storms brought to make tiny lightning strikes from his hands. He could play with them, tossing the energy back and forth. He tried sending some lightning balls like in anime but they didn't get very far before they fizzled out.
But it was something.
Stiles became obsessed with the damn storms and practically became a meteorologist ask he tracked weather patterns and storm cycles. He spread his books across Derek's floor while looking up data on his laptop and muttered to himself while Derek sat on the couch reading a book and occasionally running a hand lazily through Stiles's hair when he sat back against Derek's legs.
So that's what led to Stiles being out in the preserve, in the middle of a wide open overlook as one of the biggest storms built on the edge of Beacon Hills. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have the power of that in his fingers, to know if it would be as amazing as he expected and if this would be it, if he'd finally know what he was meant to do.
Flash forward fifteen minutes, a few frantic voicemails from Derek and Scott and a bolt of lightning Stiles wasn't expecting quite like it happened and the next thing he knew he was blinking up at Derek who looked terrified.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Stiles!" Derek was yelling, over and over while he pushed on Stiles' chest until Stiles realized he wasn't breathing and took a loud, gasping, aching breath.
"You fucking asshole," Derek yelled as he gathered Stiles up in his arms and held him so tight Stiles was having trouble breathing again. Stiles slapped weakly at Derek's arm until he let him go a little but still held him close.
"What were you doing?" Derek demanded, still yelling. Stiles realized he was yelling because they were in the middle of the storm, with cold, heavy drops of rain pelting down on them and thunder echoing off the rocks and valleys of the preserve.
"I had to see if I could do it," Stiles replied loudly.
"Do what? Get your self killed?"
"No, just- just-what this is!" Stiles said, holding up his hands. "I don't understand what this is!"
"You can figure it out without getting yourself struck by lightning!"
"Too late," Stiles replied wryly. He could feel something like lighting in his brain, going off when he moved, like it was zapping him internally. It was weird more than anything.
"Let's get you out of here! Scott's looking for you with everyone else on the other sides of the territory," Derek said, dragging Stiles up. He kept his arms around Stiles, worried he was going to fall but Stiles felt oddly solid. His arms and legs shook a little but he was able to stand on his own.
"How did you know where to find me?" Stiles asked, rubbing his arms as if that would keep him warm, while they started to walk away.
Derek didn't look at him as he shrugged his jacket off and put it around Stiles, even though it wouldn't do anything since he was already soaked to the bone. "I just knew."
Stiles stopped walking. "How?" he insisted.
Derek was practically scowling. "I could feel you."
"Really?"
"Like a goddamn surge in my brain," Derek grumbled, but he didn't seem angry. He still didn't meet Stiles' eyes.
"Yeah?" Stiles' voice was quiet, breathy but he knew Derek would hear. "Since when?"
"Since that first night," Derek admitted. He finally looked at Stiles, eyes intense and boring right into Stiles' core. "With that tiny ball of light."
"Oh." Was all Stiles could say.
Stiles fisted his hand into Derek's shirt and pulled him close, never breaking eye contact. He didn't know what this meant, didn't know why or how or that the universe could be quite this generous in its offerings.
All he knew that rain and lightning and thunder aside he had to kiss Derek then and there or he might very well have died.
He pulled Derek in and shivered when their lips met, barely touching but the tingle started there, radiated through Stiles' body and he knew through Derek, too. He let go of Derek's shirt and laced their fingers together, letting the energy run between them, warming them both.
Stiles could feel the storm around him, how the bolt was forming overhead and that it really wasn't true that lightning didn't strike twice. But this time, before it hit him Stiles let one of Derek's hands go so he could raise it overhead and he caught the lightning in his palm, forced it around them like it was pouring over an umbrella.
It was the weirdest fucking sensation and the best one because Derek never stopped kissing him until the lightning finished crackling.
Stiles felt the energy in his hand and thought of it as a solid, workable form. He let it pool into his hand, formed into a ball, brought it to eye level. The center was white but the ball itself looked like it was bound by a blue band.
Blue like Stiles' spark and Derek's eyes.