
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4479839.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski, (implied)
      stiles/peter_hale
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Lydia_Martin, Scott_McCall, Kira_Yukimura,
      Liam_Dunbar, Malia_Tate
  Additional Tags:
      Pack_Feels, Protective!Stiles, Protective!Derek, hurt!Scott, Hurt!Stiles,
      Hurt/Comfort, Mental_Health_Issues, Self-Harm, Disordered_Eating, Clothes
      Sharing, Past_Child_Abuse, mentally_de-aged!stiles, slight_age_kink_
      (nonsexual)
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-08-02 Updated: 2016-08-10 Chapters: 10/? Words: 11215
****** is that your son? ******
by A_Nobelmonster
Summary
     is that your son? you can't save him, he will burn .
     The question isn't how far will he go for the ones he loves, how far
     will he go for Scott.
     it's can he come back from what he's about to do once its over?
Notes
     i found this in my drafts on tumblr , im really excited about it so
     hopefully i remember to continue it. inspired by law & order svu.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Darker than my demons , bigger than my bones *****
Even if he didn't know Peter, even if the guy was a stranger, he would still
hate the douchbag. Just looking at the undead werwolves face was enough to make
him want to lay out the creep, a reliable constant since he met the guy. So
taking the sick fuck to jail? that's like bringing Christmas to Beacon Hills in
May . Stiles has always like the idea of being Santa.
But right now he feels like the devil in human form, walking through the front
doors of the Sheriffs Department. It's not hard to imagine . Stiles see's the
same demon in every reflective surface he passes. The stale circulated air
whrrs by the contusion on his cheek bone. There is a fragile, mundane quiet to
the office and he's come to break it open. Stalling for a moment at the front
desk he lets the lull of the broke down a.c. steady his heart.
" hey stiles, your dad is out on call, should be back soon-"
her name is Terry, the receptionist, he met her at a company party last year,
she has honest eye's and two kids with the same cafe au lait skin.
"actually i uh, i need to report a-i need to report a assault. a sexual
assault. mine that is."
there are no carefully planned gestures just a quiver that is as honest and
destructive in its nature as lightning splitting open the corps of a tree. The
quiver is going to turn into a shake and demolish his bones before she ever has
a chance to speak.
turns out he's wrong. still whole and just as terrified as ever. " Ok, why
don't you come back and talk to Parrish." there is no "are you sure" or " this
is a serious accusation Stiles." so maybe she saw that he was barely keeping
his shit together; he and his delicate stomach are grateful of it either way.
maybe.
a chair is under him and the receptionist echoing in his ears " hey sheriff,
Stiles is here, yeah i think you need to get back here ." Before he notices
Parrish is across from him with a mug of tea.
There is Chamomile and mint on his breath and its these small bits of
information keeping Stiles running right now . Limbs slow but his mind and
eye's are in a constant state of assessing the room.
"Terry said you wanted to report that you had been assaulted."
" yeah. well not really want to, id rather be here to nag on my dad for his
awful diet. not come to confess something incredibly personal."
"But you are here so lets get it over with as quickly as possible. Do you want
to go into one of the back rooms?"
treating him respect. giving him privacy. Fuck, he couldn't do this.
"No, don't treat me like the Sheriffs son, don't ...treat me specially."his
nerves are incurring a sea of hellfire in the pit of his gut.
"Ok," there is a small moment of something meant to appease Stiles and forced
out with gentle professionalism soon after. " when did it happen?"
"May 3rd 10 p.m. So like a week ago? right? "
"Why did you wait so long to come in?" no accusation in his voice but is still
has Stiles ready to cry or fight or both.
" Did you know." hang nail in his mouth he chews at the skin, "69,000 cases of
female rape are reported every year, that's only the reported. there are
statistics that say it's even higher but a lot of victims never say anything.
Male cases? 9,000. only 9,000. why do you think that is? see i think its
because there are people who will say, a guy can't be raped, he could have
stopped him if he wanted to , if you get hard you can't hate it that much.
Every time i go to sleep i hear those people, that's why i fucking
waited......... but it wasn't getting better" metallic bite of blood in the
corner of his mouth he gazes at the ragged spot on his thumb where a hang nail
had been milliseconds prior.
"Did you know your attacker?" Parrish hasn't written down anything in a while .
Stiles feels paranoid, he needs this to be formal and as clinical as possible
though, because if not he's going to think about how this is is dads work
place, and these are the people he has spent his whole life with.
"Peter. it was Peter Hale." the deputy hasn't been in on the supernatural
clusterfuck that is Beacon Hills for long, Stiles is certain that won't stop
him from understanding how monumental a betrayal like that is in the pack even
towards a human member.
"Alright, i need you to tell me about the day it happened. Take your time."
Time is relative. relative to a person whose sole caregiver has just walked
through the doors of the building briefly letting in the heat heavy pine dust
air.
"I'll tell him to wait until we are done talking ok." Stiles had been starring
at his father, turned around in his seat unmoving till the Deputy stood briskly
weaving around desks to stand by his father. Whose troubled expression meets
stiles looking him over with grim satisfaction that at least, visually his son
wasn't dying.
...............................................
ch._2_Goddamn_right_you_should_be_scared_of_me
It turns out stiles was wrong, high school wouldn’t be the most awful thing he
had to look back on,
Which makes him strangely sad, a right of passage is disintegrating right this
very moment ,
“ Then I got to Dereks loft-“ it sounds fucking scary how little emotion there
is in his voice right now.
“what were you doing there?”
“same thing we’ve done every night for the last year and a half. Go over whats
trying to kill us and how fucked we are.” Parrish didn’t deserve that but
Stiles aches like his bones are being drawn to the ground were he’ll sleep
forever and he’s cold, that’s nothing new but right now he’s not really
thinking about doing any of this “nicely” .
“ok , you were visiting and then what?” the rustle of paper indicating the
deputy is taking notes should make him feel better, more valid . nope it’s just
starting an itch under his collar and unholy rage churning in his gut.
“Derek wasn’t there, typical , he’s never there even though it’s literally his
home but …uh…anyways ….i thought it was empty and I was going to leave when
peter came down the stairs.” Parrish doesn’t interrupt for further
clarification, perhaps he thinks it will stop him from going off topic. This is
the part were Stiles would be fucked if he believed in a higher power because
it’s definitely not going to earn him a spot in any nice after life.
“and he say’s “oh, joy, what brings you here stiles?” and somethings weird
though I look at him and it’s just off like there’s bags under his eye’s even
worse than mine,” He’s practiced this enough in the bathroom mirror but his
already inclining heart beat breaks past the speed limit for people. “ I felt
like, it felt like he wasn’t surprised it was me . he knew I was going to be
there”
Of course Peter knew, he was a werewolves, he probably planned the whole thing
from the start. It wouldn’t surprise anyone; peter is like a fire if you don’t
treat it seriously it will kill you.
“ I was leaving , I got to the door and I didn’t even know he was behind me
until my head was bounced off the door frame and I’m looking up off of the
ground. Well, trying because he’s over me pushing me down by the back of the
neck . I’m yelling “peter…..peter…..fucking stop this ok?....you got me …I’m
scared” but he doesn’t say anything thing and I realize im not getting way from
him. He sits on my stomach and holds my hands above my head with one hand and
puts the other my mouth , thumb covering me noes and waits for me to pass out
but I don’t pass out really I can still feel him get up lean over me . I can
feel my pants being pulled down and he grabs my face and he’s patting my cheek
tells me edible I look. If I could breathe id yell but then I think about how
much he out ways me and how far away police or the others are. He fucks me up
against the door and the door hinge smashes into the side of my head until
there’s blood in my eye.
“I assume when you say that you mean you were penetrated?” the Deputy has
seemed to age years since the conversation began and Stiles doesn’t berate him
for the question.
“Yeah, he penetrated me, uh and I don’t really know when he left. My eyes were
stinging but I couldn’t really move ; my brain and my legs were on two
different pages so I sat there with my eye’s closed . For a second I thought I
was dead so I started counting my breathes, I got to 300 hundred, gathered my
clothes and got out of there. It took about two hours I could barely move. When
I got home dad was off his shift so i went to my room.”
“Can you guess where Peter would have gone afterwards.” Stiles can see his dad
still peeking out from his office window where he’s been for the last forty-
five minutes. Would it be awful if he asked him just to read the report so he
doesn’t have to say all of this again?
“Peter comes and goes, I didn’t even know he was in town. Sometimes he leaves
for months at a time.”
“Did you keep any of the clothes from that night?” it goes without saying that
a case like this, being reported after a week needs evidence to be anything
close to valid. It’s getting harder to swallow like he’s going to cry but that
wouldn’t make any sense , he missed his opportunity to cry yet here he is
rubbing at his eye’s until there sore.
“sorry, yeah there in the bottom of my closet.” Of course Parrish say’s they
will need him to bring anything from that night in. he tells him he’ll come in
tomorrow after school and goes to see his dad.
Bless his dad. The poor man has so much to deal with as sherrif but stiles was
born with ruin in his veins. He’s never known how to make things easy for
himself or others.
“stiles” wrapped up in a hug before he can enter the office the teenager lets
the embrace happen. For a long time he’s felt so very small in a way he never
felt as a child.
“I’m ok” the Sherrif and Stiles have an agreed upon rule with painful things
like this. They can lie to each other but eventually they will have to deal
with it. It’s seems like both of them are hoping the eventually part can wait
forever.
***** This boys a monster *****
Chapter Summary
     later. later. later.
Chapter Notes
     TW mentions of Bulimia . proceed with caution please.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Here is the part where, if he was writing an autobiography, he would insert
some descriptive simile about teenage angst or love or loss and maybe even pain
if Stiles felt eloquent at the moment but its hard to romanticize right then
with a cold saliva covered fingers a death grip on the toilet seat and
unfocused eyes. That doesn’t mean there is not time for an internal monologue,
well stream of consciousness ,
” I should buy Gatorade tomorrow- say I have a cold – why the fuck is it so
easy to lie about this – fuck, …….fuck. everything smells like vomit now –“
electrons in the opaque cloud of his brain, thunder white noise in the
familiarity of the routine. Brush teeth, wash face, change clothes, and ignore
the bite of acid behind his tongue. It may not be conventional for a guy to be
puking up his guts every time he can’t handle shit. Stiles has never felt very
conventional though, he’s just sticking with what he knows. That being every
time he got sick before the difference after wards was – well less awful and he
can’t help but chase the chance of feeling better. Really sick isn’t a bad way
to label how he feels all the time; his brain caught something and his body
just followed.
Theres a wrongness that settles into his stomach as he lays wrapped up in
blankets . That he’s doing something like this and has been for a while, while
his father is twenty feet away already worried to death. Stiles just keeps
piling on the secrets like its his fucking job. He tells himself it’s the
burning of his lower esophagus laying still and hoping that if he evens out his
breathing and doesn’t move he’ll trick his body into wanting sleep.
1…..2……3..... the screen of his phone lights up again, the first were from
Lydia sent at 12:01 , 12: 30 , 12:50 a.m.
the last and first one from Derek is at 2:03 a.m. the surprise of it is almost
enough to warrant a reply . the urge is quickly extinguished by the thought of
moving. What could Derek want with him , he couldn’t think of – wait its his
last living relative stiles is accusing of rape. Maybe he wants to talk about
it. The idea makes his eye’s burn. They aren’t close both derek and stiles and
derek and peter but that’s his family stiles is taking away. Peter? He
definitely deserves being thrown to the fire (again, but metaphorically this
time) it just sucks that Derek as to see it. It’s sucks that his dad and all
his friends have to see this; there isn’t really anyway that it will stay a
quiet even if he’s a minor and the news can’t release his name without consent
everyone will know its him. That’s the problem of growing up in a small town
where your father is a pillar of the community.
Ten years ago, a teacher went to jail for sleeping with her student. It was
almost completely gone from the collective memories of the town only save for a
hush of whispers breaking out amongst the mid-fortie-somethings when Issac
Lahey had shown up to BSSC the first day of freshmen year. Perceptive but
unobservant at the time stiles had caught an earful “-didn’t his brother?” “oh
well I can see why he would join the military……” “terrible shame getting that
nice teacher arrested-“ “it’s not like she forced him, lost her career and
everything…” what will they say about Stiles? what will pinot sipping book
clubs condemn him for? or will he become the poster boy for being a victim?
The sun diffused into the last of the night rising like the dread that cycled
once more through his rapidly beating heart. Soon those whispers would be a
very tangible thing. What if people knew the whole story, the one with things
that go bump in the night and inner demons that aren’t so figurative. The sun
light glinting off the the window frame is hurting his eye’s but he’s so zoned
out he doesn’t really become aware of the discomfort until the sun spots take
up his field of vision. Moving the valentines bear Kira had gotten him from
under his cheek Stiles decides tomorrow he’ll just take a damn melatonin. These
sleepless nights are fucking with his head , he really doesn’t need help with
that. The bear is not very plush, its somewhat rough looking made of stiff
burlap material and a velvet vest. It’s filled with something herbal and it
makes his skin loosen just a little bit so he figures what the hell he can use
all the comfort he can get and moves to his computer chair blanket draped over
his shoulders and the bear on his lap.
Searching the directory of infant names become tiring and he settles on calling
it ignancy after a polish fairy tale writer his mom had talked about
occasionally, before she was sick, and paranoid and wouldn’t look at him.
Stiles isn’t without mercy so he shortens in to iggy to protect the bear from
other hypothetical mean teddy bears who would make fun of it’s name. The naming
is very important. feels like the only important things he’s been able to do in
a while. god. it’s only been a day and a half since he reported the assault and
he’s already so tired. It’s hard to imagine even the pre-trial.
People have done this before though, thousands of people have gone before
courtrooms , before judges . No, he can’t think about this anymore. opening
more tabs than he needs he whittles away time on pinterest pinning healthy
recipes to a bored labeled “father figure” blocks out the skype notifications
that pops up focusing all his attention on salmon kale salad and how to season
meat alternatives the right way.
Iggy provides an unbiased ear an hour later when the silence starts to wear him
down . It’s nice having an attentive listener even if it’s an inanimate singing
brown bear. Finally he can draw in a normal breath . Gut instinct then decides
to tell him that he’s being watched and sure enough Derek Hale is patiently
crouched outside his window. Too mentally exhausted to even scream Stiles just
sighs before turning back to the computer screen. leave me alone, go away.
An Hour later even after he’s gone to pee twice, the older man is still there.
It would have been normal to assume Derek had fallen asleep if Stiles thought
for one moment Derek slept like a normal person. Picking up the bear out of
habit he goes back to the computer chair , “come in already, you're going to
freak out the neighbors.”
“ i want to testify against Peter on your behalf. “ it wasn’t even six a.m.
Chapter End Notes
     ugh. this month already. schools started again and so has my anxiety.
     also i had to petition to keep my aid so i could keep going to
     school.
***** Round and round we go, just like a carousal *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles is handling things his way. which is to say he isn't . Derek
     of all people is trying to help Stiles out and if it weren't so
     annoying it's be cute.
     or: Derek takes care of Stiles and thinks he's being desecrate but
     really Stiles is to tired to do anything about it.
Chapter Notes
     Dereks definitely the type who secretly (but not really so secretly)
     a mother hen . My sister thought it'd be nice to have someone like
     Derek look after Stiles because he wouldn't be scared off easily.
     Also Derek kinda tucks Stiles in but maintains respect for his
     boundaries/trauma which is why he doesn't just pick him up.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The conversation doesn’t last long. Derek looks confident and uncertain and
Stiles has a headache. Maybe it never went away after yesterday when he told
his dad that he’d rather not talk in his office so they came home and did it.
The reassuring epitaphs from his father, the hesitant hug from both parties
after the quick but dirty version of the story. It’s what parents are supposed
to do, address the trauma. He’d gone so long with this belief that he was
saving people by not bringing up painful things by taking them and hiding them
deep down where nothing could live. It was handled as well as could be expected
with some vomiting and a headache that seemed fond of him. Derek looks like he
has the same type of headache too.
“ you smell…..sick…..” note to self: gargle and floss next time too. Also buy a
mint plant. Not sure why but sounds like a good thing to have on hand.
“ yeah i feel like shit thanks for noticing.” the older man's eyebrows become a
physical sort of question mark.
“ is that why you didn’t text back? you look fine.”
“when did you become a doctor? nurse? i must have missed the part where you got
a medical degree.” it’s not defensive , it lacks the heat , Stiles just come
across as cranky child.
The panic rises nameless , cold and just stop asking already. this is how i’m
dealing . i’m dealing. stop. stop.. stop…. “me and my dad didn’t get done
talking until later and i fell asleep.”
this gets things back on track ,
“I haven’t heard from Peter, have they found him?”
Law in Order makes this look so quick. It’s not; they have to serve papers to
Peter. he’ll go to court and then Stiles, a judge will decide if he has a case
then pre-trial and if they don’t settle out well. something public, possibly
televised.
“ No…..my dad is still looking.”
Derek takes a second like he’s deciding something before nodding “ I’ll
continue patrolling by my old house and ask Satomi to keep an eye out.” when
stiles doesn’t turn around he hears the other man talk behind him and exit
through his bedroom door. It’s fine really Derek often comes and goes as he
pleases and the wikipedia article Stiles is reading on female pirates is
interesting enough. More than interesting really he feels oddly inspired by the
section on a Chinese prostitute named Ching Shih who became a powerful pirate
leading an impressive and very loyal fleet of ships. It’s pretty early so that
could be the cause for his over emotional state , Stiles tears up a little with
pride for the dead Chinese women.
This being why he misses Derek re-entering the room a plate with four slices of
cheese pizza has dad had brought home on his lunch break yesterday. The first
thing he notices is the pizza and it takes more than a minute for his brain to
translate that Derek went down stairs , got into his fridge microwaved half the
pizza and brought it upstairs to his room to eat. On principle he thinks
asshole before deciding he doesn’t really care. The pizza had gone uneaten
because he didn’t have an appetite so it’s probably good someone's eating it.
For the second time in the last two hours he’s surprised when Derek sets the
plate down on the edge of his desk and grabs a slice lounging on the floor
against Stiles bed.
“You should eat the rest, it’ll be gross if it gets cold.”
“ Oh my god! what are you talking about? cold pizza is the way you're supposed
to eat the leftovers. you savage i -” the outburst startles Stiles like his
mouth made a mistake and that sound belonged somewhere other than him. Emotions
rush around killing the slight break of depression when he realizes he would
have to eat both slices in front of Derek. It would look weird right, if he
didn’t?
“ It’s like eight a.m. Derek, the morning is for breakfast foods not pizza.
Also i need sleep not food right now.” The creeper probably watch Stiles for a
while before he made himself known and already knew or guessed stiles never
went to sleep to begin with. Also he’s trying to formulate how to tell Derek to
go away without ruining the tentative calm they have going on.
“Fine i’ll throw it away.” Derek finishes his first slice grabbing a book from
beside the bed to prop open on his knee and skim with his last piece. Stiles is
95% sure that it’s a english to french dictionary he was using last week. The
werewolf just keeps reading the book starting in the middle like the deviant he
is. It really pisses him off the more he thinks about Derek helping himself to
Stiles fridge and then not even eating most of it so he grabs a slice looking
over for any reaction from the other man; not even a hit of interest in what
Stiles is doing. Pulling the top of the blanket over his head further Stiles
starts nibbling on the pizza , every bite feels like cotton taking up space in
his stomach but it’s not unbearable.
“ Stiles go to bed.” The two thirds of the slice he still had left fall from
his mouth of of iggy’s head and underneath his computer chair.
“wha-” looming over him Derek grabs the computer chair and pushes it next to
the bed, the movement makes him nauseous “could you not do that?”
“come on Stiles get on the bed.” why does Derek sound frustrated? he’s the one
who should be frustrated.
“come into my home, make me eat pizza for breakfast and then go to sleep. what
the hell.” it’s almost inaudible with his face down in the bed but he thinks
Derek gets what he saying, werewolf hearing and all. Something gets tucked
under his arms to close to sleep to make sense of anything.
“Goodnight Stiles.” That Stiles does understand, strangely enough he feels
happiness bloom warm in his chest, asleep in minutes.
Chapter End Notes
     Two chapters in one week???? i hardly recognize myself. it's really
     hard for me to keep motivated but the comments have been very kind
     and it feels good to have something to focus on.
***** tell me what i want to hear *****
Chapter Summary
     Things are catching up with Stiles. the stress, the lies, peter.
Chapter Notes
     ugh peter, such a good villian
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The last three nights since Derek first came over (he’s been making regular
appearances since) have been obsessively trying to figure out how things will
happen once Peter is apprehended. Will it be because of a parking violation?
Will it be some grand car chase as the older werewolf tries to blow through a
checkpoint at the border to Mexico? Stiles has constructed several possible
instances to be ready for the worst case but he’s pretty sure that won’t be
enough.
While Stiles has been fretting (fretting sounds too calm but he’s not sure what
the word is for constant state of panic) Derek has perfected the art of subtle
nagging or as Stiles likes to think of it ‘sheep herding’ but the imagery is
alarming considering Dereks a wolf and that would mean something bad for
Stiles. When Derek pops up there is always ‘too much’ food he gets roped into
eating some of and naps that make the day a little easier to handle and
Gatorade but that last part Stiles tries not to think to hard on. He also try
not to think about the slight sexual arousal of Derek's presence, it’s become a
slosh of acid in his stomach leaving him unable to make eye contact for hours
at a time.
The first day they don’t have overcast the sun is bright and a cool breeze
comes through the window as his phone lights up ‘dad’ . They find Peter that
morning at seven a.m. at a convenience store , the officers who had been there
at the same time coincidentally told Peter there was a subpoena for him to
appear in court in two days if he failed to show he would labeled a flight risk
and held under surveillance until trial. It’s like the more factually it’s
explained the less his father speaks to him like he’s dying and the less he
feels like he really is dying.
It’s such a nice day and its such a banal circumstance that he doesn’t notice
right away that the phone is on the ground or that he’s crying. He’s sucked
into an emotional vacuum there’s no air, no light. Stiles cry’s until the only
sound he can make out is the sharp wheeze of his wind pipe and the thump of his
knees on the carpeted floor. Whether he’s sad or relieved Stiles doesn't know,
it’s so much to handle. the last eighteen years of his life have been so much
to handle. if he could just take a break for a second from it all he could do
this all so much better. Stiles wished he could just die for a moment,
Something temporary but all the same he wished he could wish for death because
the mere thought of leaving everyone to fend for themselves especially his dad
was worse. The guilt coursed angry through his stomach up his throat in the
form of foamy bile.
“oww...fuck” The panic attack had drained the minimal energy he had before
leaving him helpless to heave vomit all over his side and leg. the Acrid wet
scent of clothes made him mildly pleased Derek was out busy doing a larger
check of the Beacon Hills area to make sure no one who shouldn’t be there was.
Bits of time pass “i need to change my clothes” saying this out loud to summon
the energy to do so but only succeeding in lapsing into thought before
repeating the same line another three time.
such a pathetic child come on you can do this. The closest dry things in
relation to his half sprawled position where a t-shit of Derek's. Sliding out
his shirt and pants he pulled on the wrinkled article, it helped enough for him
to toss kleenex onto the now dark stain of his carpet and claw his way into
bed.
comfort evades him, he throws on a faded black hoodie down the stairs he barely
stops to put on shoes. Out on the street its a slow jog until he hit the corner
and then he’s running , running and he feels like he’s possessed again. Body
moving over sidewalks through crosswalks until his breathlessness can be blamed
on the physical exertion
I can't let Derek get this close anymore.
Stiles thinks as the ditch before the reservoir comes into sight. Just stick to
the plan and put Peter away.
Fifteen feet from the reservoir he stops to catch his breath, the glare of the
fading sun makes him screw up his eyes. Throat burning Stiles bends over to
grasp his knee caps to stabilize.
“ Hello Stiles, you look good.”
Helplessly Stiles falls to the ground as peter kicks stiles from behind
unbalancing him. He focuses on the smell of leather and the cold weight of
Pete’s shoe on the back of his neck instead of the reality before him.
“I just want. to. know. WHY THE FUCK ARE LYING ?” both of their calm facades
crumbling in the dirt. Stiles can barely breath pressure constant on his adam's
apples as the soil in his mouth. cruel laughter reverberates through the foot
on his neck
“It’s funny i leave for a month and when i come back im a rapist? when have i
ever given you anything you didn’t want?” blooms of static black crowd his
vision the tree’s become a mass of dark green.
“ your digging you o-own grave peter. your g-goin-g aw-ay.” Fight or flight
should be kicking in it’s not but he sure won't let Pete know that. He jerks a
shoulder blade up thankful for his broad physic sliding his arm underneath to
get the leverage needed to stand up.
“i’m diggin my own grave? i don't think so.” the flippancy punctuated with the
thorn prick of claws at the back of his neck. “ you thought what i did before
was bad? you should see what i do next.” with that pain drowns the light from
Stiles eye's the forest is the last thing he see's.
Chapter End Notes
     i'm sorry im very bad at updates but i'll try to have the rest of the
     chapter tomorrow. things are going to get worse because apparently i
     love hurting people who dont deserve it. at some point i'll go back
     and make a more concrete time line but for know just assume its a day
     by day thing unless a time skip is stated. also , more clothes
     sharing to come.
***** hit the ground still breathing (somehow) *****
Chapter Summary
     it's all gone. fourteen years of memories erased in one night and
     even if they aren't completely missing, with Stiles in this state how
     can he possibly testify ?
Chapter Notes
     another twist. and slightly shorter than i intended , there will be
     more to come. thank you for comments and kudos.
     inspiration for the chapter: sia - alive
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Nails impale Stiles neck further;, memories fly past his vision; it’s the first
day of second grade , he has to stay home because his mother had an episode and
won’t unlock his bedroom door.
Its a summer night and he’s watches the mechanic who is working on his jeep
slowly get crushed to death as Stiles lays paralyzed thirty feet away. Years of
memories keep coming but Stiles doesn’t see them anymore ; he can't see
anything anymore , he can't feel anything .
……………...
Drinking the carpi-sun miserably, wobbly tears welled in Stiles eyes. Derek had
to look away it was just pathetic and more than a little cute . They had tried
a normal cup of juice at first but that had quickly ended up all over the area
rug.
It still was strange seeing a full grown nineteen year folded up on his couch
juice pouch in one hand and blanket in the other. The blanket was easy to
understand after Derek had found stiles unconscious in the reserve he had
brought the teenager to his loft ; it was fall now and Stiles had been in the
cold barely covered for at least most of the night so Derek buried him in the
biggest blanket he owned.
The juice wasn’t that hard to explain either thinking about it even if stiles
didn’t have the mental capacity of a five year old at the moment it’s still
something he would like.
but the last bit was a shock when Stiles woke up asked for his mom. Derek
though it was temporary confusion or a slip of the tongue but after a few
minutes of questioning the teen and Stiles yelling “I don’t know you, my mommy
told me not to talk to strangers,” it was apparent something had altered Stiles
normal state. Or someone. Someone like Peter who would insure that the person
accusing him of such a heinous crime would conveniently forget everything days
before trial.
Missing fourteen years certainly could account for change in behavior though
Derek didn’t think the memories were actually missing the half healed scars on
the back of his neck indicated some extent of torture.
“ I’m sorry Mr. Hale.” That sent a shiver up Derek's spine, his stomach twisted
uncomfortably.
“it’s fine Stiles.” He hadn’t dealt with children or children like people for a
long time . He wasn’t doing very well.
“I’ll clean it up I promise.” Making eye contact with Stiles was weird like
another person was talking and using his face as a puppet to do so. There was a
quiet fear that causes the juice container to quiver.
“it’s ok you don’t have to-“
“no I can , mom gets angry when I make a mess but im good at cleaning really.”
This version of Stiles talked so freely about his mother before he would only
mention her fleetingly usually with a disturbing memory. Not like he's one to
talk , Derek realizes he’s a hypocrite and hes fine with it.
“ you don’t have to stiles, I’ll get it.”
“I can do it.”
“no, its ok.”
“let me, I can do it.”
“Stiles , stop your being stupid.” Then hell broke loose and stiles buried his
face sideways in the duvet chest heaving as his crying grew gradually louder
rivaling Lydia in force. This really wasn’t going well .
He couldn’t call the sheriff , the sheriff who was busy making sure none of
them went to jail and whose son he owed the the amount of times he saved Derek
from death. Fuck. He forgot that children were more sensitive to things.
“I didn’t- look I wasn’t trying to – ugh, I’m sorry for yelling …….” Stiles
doesn’t look up , obviously Derek isn’t going to be forgiven easily so he walks
over to the t.v. and turns on animal planet too cute is on he goes and sits on
the ground far enough away to give Stiles space. By the end of the program
stiles is curled into a corner of the sofa peeking out through the blanket to
watch the program blotchy red cheeks visible.
“when m-om gets upset that’s what she says.” Stiles whispers thickly after
they’ve been watching t.v. for an hour. Derek doesn’t like the way that sounds
or the bitter smell of tears that’s lingering.
“accidents happen, I need to wash the rug anyways. Are you hungry? I can make
some mac and cheese.” Someone take note that he’s trying really hard.
“ok I guess,” after Derek had made up a box he sets down the bowls at the
kitchen table Stiles shuffles in blanket trailing behind him. “ Mr. Derek, um I
can have ketchup please?”
Derek must have look disgusted because stiles just laughs giving him a cheeky
grin " it's really good! promise! Scott showed me it you just-" apparently
empty half the bottle onto your noodles " and mix it around till it's kinda
more orangish." enthusiastically he takes a bite getting ketchup all over his
mouth and some how into his hair.
his cell-phone rings , it's Lydia , when he picks up Lydia starts talking
quickly " i know we planned on giving Stiles his space to deal with this but
its been a month Derek, a month since i've talked to or seen him and its not
right for him to go through this without us." she's upset even though her voice
is professionally curt he can tell she's worried.
"Lydia , we have a bigger problem." Stiles looks up and smiles at Derek before
looking over trying to see the next program that's started playing on the t.v.
Yeah they have a big problem. fuck.
Chapter End Notes
     this was supposed to be a separate story idea but it felt like it
     would work well, i was displeased with how the story was shaping up
     so i think this will get it to were i want it again. plus how cute is
     a full grown stiles calling Derek 'mr.hale'? geeze what a guilty (not
     really) pleasure. since he's not actually fully 'de-aged' im going
     include this as age kink and borderline daddy kink though no sexual
     content because yikes, have you read this story so far??? it is kind
     of killing me no ones getting the sex though.
***** My heart is gold and my hands are cold *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles, now with only his memories until fiver year old, has to deal
     with the consequences of his normal self's actions. Lost and trying
     to navigate his new life Derek is the only person Stiles can trust
     but even Derek can't protect him from the truth. And the truth will
     come out. it always does.
Chapter Notes
     finally an update, um. i'm sorry but have some clothes sharing,
     disordered eating, bed sharing and Derek dressing Stiles. not in that
     order.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Derek wakes, tense as a creature before its attacked. Through the dark of
midnight he can see Stiles standing above bleary eye’d and slightly swaying.
The smell of rotting fills the air, the teenager exhales causing Dereks stomach
to roll in sympathetic response to the smell of vomit.
If he wasn’t so concerned Derek would be very concerned that Stiles was
hovering over him while he slept like a killer. Taking a breath he blocks out
the thoughts of the nogitsune and the stiles that basked in blood.
“Stiles?” even with his racing mind his voice is molasses slow with fatigue.
“i don’t feel good. my stomach hurts…. i’m scared.” he couldn’t tell if stiles
was scared because his mother was sick often or he was wary of how Derek would
re-act to Stiles probably having puked all over his living room.
Swinging his legs over the bed he pads over to cheap ikea dresser in the corner
pulling out a fresh shirt “ it’s ok, you said your head hurt earlier right?
it’s probably the reason don’t feel good. “
Stiles takes the offered shirt pulling off his current clothing, the shirt
encases his arms revealing an expanse of warm skin that causes Derek feel
something worse than guilty. He makes a frustrated noise unable to get the
shirt of wiggling back and forth frantically. The motor skills of a five year
old and the body of a nineteen year old warring with the article. Gently Derek
slips the material over his arms and while his hands are still up slides the
worn guns and roses shirt onto his frame .
Sitting back on his bed Derek expects Stiles to mill around for a while trying
to put off bed he doesn’t expect Stiles to sit at the end of the bed and ask if
he can sleep with Derek. He’s helpless to the sad tone , the smell of sadness
with a tinge of pain so wordlessly he pulls back the covers for Stiles to slide
in.
“Mr.Derek?” Stiles has scouted to the opposite side of the bed almost on the
edge .
“you can just call me Derek,” There is no response so he gives in to the
unnecessary formality, “ yes, Stiles?”
“ i’m not…..this isn’t right is it? i looked in the bathroom mirror and i look
like a grown up but i don’t feel like one. i feel like me but-” his voice slows
to a whisper like a dying car, “ this body….my body isn’t right is it? i’m so
tired and I've got scratches everywhere. did something happen” Derek turns over
to face Stiles who his staring intently at his hands, He can understand seeing
your own body and feeling like its not yours, like its fake, like its betraying
you.
“There’s nothing wrong with- it’s not your body it your mind, Do you remember
when you woke and asked for your mom? do you remember how you didn’t know why
you were in my house?” fuck, there so much to tell Stiles, this Stiles, but how
the fuck is he supposed to explain it in a way he’ll understand? “.........you
had an accident, you got hurt and lost your grown up memories.”
even though mentally he’s five Stiles figures out quickly that is Mr. Derek
said he lost his grown up memories that means 1. he’s a grown up now 2. he has
not been acting like a grown up 3. he’s scarred.
Its hard to breath, his head hurts more than it did before. Stiles tries to
think hard about the other person he’s supposed to be but there is nothing.
It’s as dark in his mind as it is in the room . Derek reaches out to grasp
Stiles wrist pulling him towards him to rest just below the older mans chin.
Stiles is so surprised he forgets to be scared for a moment.
“It will be ok. we’ll figure something out….... go to sleep.” Stiles doesn’t
think he’ll ever be able to sleep will the anxiety induced nausea rolling
through his every breath . He’s ready to tell Derek that much but the pain in
his head is receding replaced by something softer. They aren't completely
touching only Stiles shoulders and feet rest against Derek. Where there is a
connection though warmth spreads through his body until it reaches his eyes
lulling them closed.
He’s asleep before the black fades from Derek's veins where he’s pulling Stiles
pain.
The morning arrives without preamble at six a.m. when Derek usually wakes up.
Stiles has a low grade fever, at least that's what Derek assumes the slight
raise in his body temperature means. His voice is low like radio static with
the strain of vomiting yesterday too. Derek bundles him up with the duvet from
his bed on the couch turns on the discovery center because its Stiles favorite
even if he's not awake yet and calls Lydia.
She arrives twenty minutes later with several bags of extremely full groceries
Derek puts the groceries on the table trying to hide how impressed he is that
the human got this much up several flights of stairs. After he's pulled
everything out of the bags onto the table he finds Lydia standing in from of
Stiles watching him sleep.
"Its weird. he changed so much once already and now he's changed again but he
looks the same as always." She's chewing at her lip , he tries to ignore the
smell of scalded milk and wet leaves coming from her. the smell of inexplicable
sorrow. Sometimes he hates being privy to this part of peoples vulnerability.
the parts no one should know about another person.
"i'm going to get the soup and Gatorade. wake him up.......be gentle." Really
there is no need to tell Lydia to be gentle if anyone knows what its like to
have their mind toyed with , to have part of you hidden against you will , its
her. All the same he days it because it feels like something a person taking
care of another person should say. The soups in the microwave when he here's
Stiles shouting
"Derek? Derek?!" it's a pitiful sound degraded by the acidic erosion of his
throat. Derek ran into the room as fast as possible soup forgotten . Stiles had
smashed himself once more into the side of the couch farthest away from Lydia.
Lydia looked like she would leave the state to give Stiles enough room.
"It's ok, this is Lydia. She's your-she's a friend of ours. you've known her
for a long time. She brought you soup." From his position on the couch he
wearily stares at Lydia tracking he movements as Derek brings in the food.
Setting it on the coffee table Stiles turns his attention to the bowl of
chicken noodle.
"....Mr.Derek......do grown ups eat chicken noodle soup? i want grown up soup
.....but i really like chicken noodle" He's pretty sure him mom gave him the
red stuff in the bottle with the orange cap when he was sick before so it's
probably a grown up thing but the soup he's not sure if he's allowed to like
now that he's a grown up.
Lydia and Derek both relax , Lydia tries not to laugh as Derek tries not to
smile . They both fail miserably with the look of determination on Stiles face
to be a 'grown up'.
"Yes Stiles, grown ups like chicken noodle. it's good for your throat. grown
ups like things that are good for you so its ok." appeased by this logic Stiles
slides to the floor pooling the duvet over his lap.
The show ends on the t.v. and Stiles grabs the remote remembering that Lydia is
still there he turns to were She's sitting in the recliner by the large
windows. " Miss Ly'dia do you want to watch something?" His mother always told
him to be polite, use his manners more especially if he was in someone else
house. Lydia's reply is cut off by a loud buzzing coming from the pile of
clothes stiles had arrived in. Derek searches for several moments before
finding the phone blinking with a new voice mail notification.
" Hey Stiles its dad, uh don't forget you gotta be at the court house tomorrow
by ten thirty. You got Jude Hammond, he's really nice so there's nothing to
worry about ok?....were something nice. oh and call later so i know your ok."
the mood of the room crescendos into tense silence again. Lydia reacting to
Derek's stiffened posture with equal tensity. Stiles drinks from his Gatorade
bottle absent mindedly to focused on and episode of Pokemon.
"That was the Sheriff. the hearings tomorrow." They can prep Stiles to go to
court and say "yes, this is the man who hurt me" but then what? what if it goes
to trial? how do you prepare a five year old for a rape case? how do you win a
trail with no evidence and no memories?
Chapter End Notes
     oh. my. god. this week. this week tried to kill me but it was so bad
     that i really wanted to post a chapter because that makes me feel
     better. I dunno why, i already did so much writing. three essays of
     writing in a week and yet here i am , for fun writing about suddely-
     a-parent?!derek and i-put-him-in-too-much-pain!stiles.
     also, its been like forever? since i updated but i have 3 new
     bookmarks. amazing, hi, i'm really sorry because im shit at updating
     and i like hurt characters who don't deserve it a lot. welcome fam.
***** Go forth and have no fear *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles will always want to help Scott. They're friends, best friends
     , brothers. no matter
     how hard they push each other away.
     Scott goes to the hearing to support Stiles and ends up finding
     supported instead.
Chapter Notes
     the title is from the X Ambassadors - Renegades.
     extremely fitting song too for cuddling and losing your innocence.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Stiles is sweating. Derek can smell anxiety over the woodsy scent of his body
wash Stiles had used that morning. Stiles smelled like home when he first can
out of the shower, still sleep soft unmistakably exuding comfort, Something
about the two smells combining makes his stomach turn precariously. He can see
Scott's fingers sink into the denim of his jeans, fingers turning pale with
stress as his friend tells the judge of his attack.
"Yes, Peter Hale is the man that sexually.......... assaulted me."
The unfortunate thing about being a werewolf is that even though there is the
barrier of cheap plywood paneled walls between the waiting area and the
courtroom they can hear everything. Every frantic breath and shaky sentence.
"........He raped m-me."
Lydia’s eye’s are closed as if in silent prayer contradictory to smell of anger
rising from her pores like poison . Derek knew that it was partly due to them
being unable to sit with Stiles and help him through the process. The other
part being she got angry about things out of her control.
They had gone over Stiles statement with him all night not going to sleep until
stiles had fallen asleep at the table around 1; face pressed into a stack of
notes Lydia was making. Most of the time had been spent trying to impress upon
the boy how important it was that he said exactly what they told him to. There
had been a lot of frustrated crying on all their parts as Stiles stumbled over
the words again and again. "Yes Mr.Hale a-a-assaulted me." "No Stiles you have
to his full name, Peter Hale." Not understanding why he had to recite such
terrifying words at the insistence of his temporary guardian. "Why are we doing
this? i'm scared. i don't want to do this" "i know from dad that assaulted
means hurt, did i get hurt? is that why i'm here?"
Arriving to the courtroom that morning had seen them all exhausted but well
dressed. Lydia came back an hour before they had to go with a suit and shoes
that look more expensive than the occasion called for.
The sheriff had been there briefly before getting called away to an amber alert
for a child the next town over. By the gauntness of his face countless nights
without sleep etched it was probably for the best.
“He’s finished.” Momentarily is Derek thankful Lydia cant hear as well as he &
Scott could. It rises in him a wave of protectiveness that dies down when
Stiles emerges shakily moments later. The case has been approved and the trial
date is set for the end of the month assuming Peter doesn’t enter a plea
bargain. He flinches when Derek rests his hand on Stiles shoulder but settles
quickly leaning into the touch. “ you did good Stiles.” feeling compelled to
reassure the other boy.
Knowing this Stiles is more fragile and actually doing something about it are
to very difficult things for Derek to handle. He's not fit to reassure or help
himself so he knows without a doubt he is not qualified to do so for Stiles but
he can't bring himself to walk away.
They walk out to the parking garage where Lydia's S.u.v sits so ordinary that
it feels like a mockery of the last few months. In another life they are just
coming out of a movie or returning with a plethora groceries in anticipation of
a BBQ. Nice things that have no place in this situation. Stiles watery gaze
repeatedly seeks out Derek as they get into the car. Derek tries not to think
of how much younger it makes him look, sliding into the passenger side to avoid
the open vulnerability any further.
After a few minutes Stiles starts talking“ Um. who are you?” though his voice
is low Derek can hear the cautious curiosity in the statement. Lydia swears
under her breath as they both realize no one had introduced Scott to Stiles
before he went into the courtroom. The question receives a barely repressed
whimper from Scott before he clears his throat trying to choose his words
carefully.
“My name is Scott. We're …..friends. actually best friends.”
“Hmm, i thought so you smelled like Scott but you don’t look the same. so i
wasn't sure” Derek looks back to see Scott so painfully hopeful it puts his sad
puppy eyes to shame.
“you- i - wait , i smell the same?” He can hear Stiles nodding as he leans back
against the head rest still tired from the night before.
“ yeah. like flowers and cookies. i’m happy......i thought adult me wasn’t
friends with you. i was really sad because Scott's my favorite friend . “ Derek
and Lydia stare forward with mutual understanding. Stiles and Scott haven’t
spoken to each other since the incident , it’s been harder on them then they
thought.
“why are you crying? are you hurt?” Tears are streaming down Scott's face as he
looks blankly at Stiles before gather the other boy in his arms as best he can
with both of them still buckled.
“Scott?” deep anguish fills the car like fog.
“i-i-thought you would h-hate me. So i stayed away. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.”
Stiles pets his hair humming the Pokemon theme song in what Derek assumes is an
attempt to sooth the other boy.
“it’s ok mom say’s sometimes people do things they don’t mean because they are
really sad and they can’t find the right words. i could never hate you.” They
round the corner to Derek's Apartment. Mid morning sun glinting of the multi.
window front refracting warm golden rays; the building feel like a haven. It
feels more like home than it ever has and Derek tries not to think to hard
about why that is.
Scott can seem to stop crying he just clings tighter to Stiles only stopping as
they get out the car. He seems deflated from the rush of emotions, face flushed
from crying and silent walking into the loft.
“ Mr. Derek could Scott stay for a while?” They all look at Stiles curiously,
since he had been at Derek's he had never actually asked for something. “He’s
sad, i don’t he can drive like that.” This startles a laugh from Derek and
Stiles solemn expression deepens unamused.
“sure, if he wants to i don’t care.” Lydia closes the door behind them going to
the kitchen to get a glass of water. Stiles takes Derek's permission as a green
light to drag Scott over to the couch gently pushing him until he gets the hint
to sit down. He leaves for a few minutes retrieving a blanket and his stuffed
bear iggy that Derek had retrieved for him yesterday. Long fingers pull the
fabric around Scott until both he and Stiles are cocooned in the quilted
material, he sits the bear in Scott's lap turning changing the channels until
he lands on the Disney which is playing Halloween Town.
Stiles looks more content than he has in a long time appeased so simply with
just taking care of his friend. Scott looks so overwhelmed like he will cry
again if Stiles says anything else. Like every caring touch is so undeserved
its received as punishment. Derek understands the feeling, his heart beats
rapidly with emotion forcing him to retreat to the other room so he can breath
normally.
It amazes him how purely empathetic Stiles can be still with limited memories.
It amazes him how much of that he’s had to keep hidden as he’s gotten older.
Heart inefficiently fortified behind sarcasm and deceit still getting hurt
regardless.
Memories of himself similarly more trusting and happy float to the surface.
This is what Stiles does to him. Makes him want to hope for things, to want to
be happy without sabotaging himself. Trying to quell the anger he sits with
Lydia who's made herself vodka with a splash of tea , they talk but mostly its
thoughtful silence trying to process the day and whats to come, eventually she
leaves to go back home.
The anger doesn’t leave but it lessens probably thanks to Lydia's presence.
It’s hard to identify the origin of the hot rage bubbling in his gut. Things
were fine before Stiles and Scott quiet literally fell into his life. He had
accepted the perpetual heartache with the comfort of solitude. But now....
Slowly he drags him self back into the living room . Stiles and Scott are
leaning into each other on the couch, Stiles is already asleep his eye lashes
contrasting starkly with the bruising under his eye’s. Scott looks close to
following blinking lethargically as the movie plays on .
Derek's heart beats out of sync as he breathes in. Loudly thudding.
want. want. want.
Chapter End Notes
     S.V.U. makes it seem easier than it is to bullshit your way through
     technical jargon. Anyways, i'm super proud to be at eight chapter
     already. Also, I originally was going to have peter bump into them at
     the courthouse but that would ruin what i have planned for the trial.
     there will be tears, deception and clothes sharing. Not in that order
     exactly but close.
     If you want to gives suggestions about the story, talk about ideas in
     general or just cry with me, my tumblr is http://poze-
     laceen.tumblr.com/
***** Note *****
I'm doing NaNoWriMo this month so there probably won't be any updates until
Dec. 1st
good luck to anyone else doing it.
***** too young, too frail *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles is trying his best. He has little to no memories, little to no
     family, but he's trying. Doing what Mr.Derek and Miss.Lydia tells him
     to even though it's scary. Stiles is trying to be a good big kid, but
     you know what they say about bad things. They come in threes.
Chapter Notes
     hey, ya'll I'm back. the title is from the Skylar Grey- Wear me out.
     such a good song and it puts me into the mood to write this story.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The man is there again.
Stiles tries not to look, doesn’t want to tense up too much will he hold Miss
Lydia’s hand
she’s so nice and it’s been really fun being at her house will Mr. Derek is on
‘business’.
Stiles isn’t really sure though if Mr.Derek is on business. He thinks that's
just the words everyone uses because whatever he really is doing is something
he doesn’t want to tell Stiles about.
A the reflection of a cell phone causes him to jerk his head rapidly to the
left sure that it’s the man again, but there are nothing and no one standing
there when he looks.
For a week, he’s stayed at Miss. Lydia’s Lake house with her. Most of the time
they go into to town. they go to colorful coffee shops where Stiles gets hot
coco. They go to the store where
Miss.Lydia lets him pick out his favorite sugary cereal. they go to the park
and the library too.
Miss Lydia treats him the right amount adult and child. She never asks him to
do anything too difficult. A part of him wishes he would stay at the lake house
forever.
But a bigger part wants to be with Mr.Derek. The man, the stranger that Stiles
sees everywhere now, he was never around when Stiles was with Derek.
The man is as tall as Derek and has stubble on his face like Derek but unlike
Derek, the stranger always wears sunglasses, always disappears when stiles do a
double take.
He seen him in the library looking at the non-fiction section. At the grocery
store gently squeezing peaches, outside the cafe walking slowly past them while
he looks at his phone.
Stiles tells himself that big kids, adults, they don’t get scared over stuff
like this. So he tries to smile at Miss Lydia and act like he’s having as much
fun as he can see she wants him to be having.
It’s been six days since he’s last seen Mr.Derek or Scott. At Dinner Stiles
can’t force himself to eat. He’s nervous, Miss Lydia tells him on Sunday Stiles
will go back to the loft and that Mr.Derek has taken care of his business. He’s
not nervous to see Mr.Derek again he’;s nervous to go to sleep. go to his room
where the man will stare through his window from across the lake,
His hands start shaking so badly that peas fly everywhere, all over the table
cloth and Miss Lydia own plate. In the kitchen window behind the strawberry
blond woman's head, he can see the flash of eye’s.
“Stiles, are you alright? you look sick.” She gets up to put her hand against
his forehead. She smells like cinnamon and vanilla. She smells like home which
is the only thing stopping him from flinching.
his brain says, bad.stop.don’t touch me. stop. stop.stop.
the same voice in his head that wants to beg Miss Lydia not make him go his
room.
the only thing that comes out is nothing. nothingness. it’s all Stiles has in
him right then. So he smiles and pretends to yawn.
“Why don’t you go to bed early? I know we’ve on the go all week. Tomorrow we’ll
stay home ok? we’ll order some takeout and watch movies.” Stiles gets up with
his plate going to brush his teeth in the main bathroom of the lake house.
Stares at the weathered nautical patterned wallpaper as he brushes his teeth
with the bubblegum toothpaste Lydia has insisted they get.
She’s always buying things for him it's so nice that it makes him feel a little
bad for accepting the things she gives him.
Slowly he drags himself into the room. The broad arching wooden beams and blue
walls should be comforting. This room hasn’t felt comfortable one minute since
they got there. He’s pulling his blankets off the bed before he realizes what
his hands are doing, lays the blankets and pillows in the closet. The doors and
windows are locked by the time he’s ready for sleep so he waits like he has for
the last five days until he sun comes up.
The first night Stiles noticed the man watching from across the lake. He pulled
up the flannel sheet of his bed trying to convince himself that it’s his
imagination.
The next night the man gets closer and every night since. The fear creeps overs
Stiles skin until every rustling branch and sound outside of the lake house is
the man coming to hurt him. Take him away from Miss Lydia, Mr.Derek and Scott.
It’s so suffocating laying in the silence of his room, it brings fractured
flashes of memories. Of a dark blackness that some part of him was familiar
with before he woke up in his too big body with too little memories.
As the fear increases so do the memories it doesn’t even feel like his body at
times. So much red. He dreams are in red with what he knows deep down is blood.
Curling up into the blankets he holds his stuffed rabbit closer until its fur
is warm with the breath from his mouth. The window shakes like someone is
trying to open it from the outside. It’s a slowly metallic clanking sound at
first, but it quickly grows until Stiles thinks there is possibly a hurricane
right outside that very wall.
Breath his caught in through as his mind tries to rationalize the quaking
window. The only thing grounding him is the warm pain of his fingernails curled
into his palm. Minutes tick by and slowly the sound stops until Stiles unsure
if it ever happened.
Curled into the closet he lays there numb with terror waiting until either the
man or the morning come. Watery pale light falls under the door after Stiles
has counts as high as he can remember counting.
The delicate rhythm of Lydia’s feet wakes him from his stupor. Going into the
routine, he’s established of putting everything in order before going to join
Lydia for breakfast.
He’s pulling the blanket from the ornate curtain rod as comes face to face with
the man he sees’s every night.
Blue eye’s meet his and then he feels cold, someone is screaming, but he can’t
look away from the man in front of him.
Chapter End Notes
     I hope ya'all had a good holiday break. Mine was super hectic,
     NaNoWriMo, a play audition and my room flooded. This year has
     certainly been eventful. I'd estimate there are about five-ish
     chapters left in this series it's gone by so fast thank you for
     reading it so far (and enduring my bad grammar lol) :)
***** honey and nettles *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles is getting his memories back, it's becoming more and more
     clear to him how desperately he wishes he wouldn't.
Chapter Notes
     omg i swear i didn't mean to let this sit for eight months. it feels
     like it was just January.
     anyway im almost done with this dang thing so i cant abandon it now.
     and what helped really was a comment i got a few months ago
     expressing interest in the story even though ive been an unmotivated
     slug and left the story to silently judge me for months. So here is
     me practicing a bit of New years resolve and trying to finish what i
     started.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
His face shines , continuous with tears, a waterfall of abject sadness
He doesn’t look as young anymore
“ I know.” each syllable is rough , churned through the rusted cogs of his
tired body
“ I remember.” which is at both times a burden and a blessing. To finally have
some footing, to finally understand.
Lydia looks away, an aura of pain vibrant enough for those who are not
supernatural in the room to sense overwhelmingly.
“All those scary things you made me say….” a hiccup stops up his lungs reducing
his ability to breath, it carries a crushing feeling throughout his body.
Right now the only things he has in the world are the well-worn beige carpet
fibers of his childhood home beneath his fingers and a fractured memory
clarifying with each day.
All he wants is to be sitting on Mr- no Derek's couch, safe in his blanket
watching the animal channel.
Want is a vicious thing , it pours like water into the cracks of your pain and
freezes. It expands and expands until chunks of soft feelings fall from your
soul.
Has Stiles always been this empty?
He wishes his dad would hold him.
“I was hoping-, ... I wanted you to stay little for longer Stiles. I really
did.” Lydia's voice does nothing to comfort him. Right now in the horrifying
moment, Stiles is both little and not. He’s remembered a lot but those pieces
of big Stiles haven’t all been sorted or labeled yet. They lay like torn paper
in the dark of his mind waiting to be made sense of.
His fingers curl into his palm. Tighter, they’re a sharp clarifying pressure.
Tighter, they’re a sharp electric pain radiating heat. Maybe he’s bleeding. It
might be better if he was. Bleeding can be fixed with a band-aid. It’s a
problem with a logical ending but this pain he feels inside doesn’t feel like
it can be soothed as easily.
Derek kneels in front of him taking his and smoothing out the bloody crescent
marks on his palms
“Don’t touch me” its weak, barely audible. he doesn’t mean it, it's something
automatic in his DNA. words from a different him.
Derek doesn’t move, he’s a buoy in violent churning waters. “What do you
remember.”
He feels betrayed to have to say it out loud. That they want to squeeze even
more heartache into his ill-fitting body.
Stiles hates the way they look at him as if there is a right and wrong answer,
that there is a possibility that this awful thing that he has remembered isn’t
the right awful thing.
His father looks at him from the faded blue couch by the wall. He’s drowning
too.
Water endlessly pours from his eyes, he can barely bring himself to be aware of
the discomforting feeling of his clothes dampening. Stiles watches the closed
front door impassively. His panic tapering emptiness.
He clears his throat, “Peter….i know that Peter touched , no…..i know that
Peter fu-.” Derek's hands tighten on his own, the older man looks at him the
way you do when a loved one has been seriously ill for a long time and finally
closes their eyes forever. Is there a name for that kind of pain and relief?
For such a delicate mixture of competing emotions.
The first drops of rain fall. They ring the plastic pots and metal mailbox
outside. They fall and fall until the white noise of them creeps into the
house.
“We're going to make this right.” Stiles nods on cue, smiles and says he’ll be
ok. He lets the Stiles before him take over for a moment with the ghost of
settled mannerisms. He’s not sure he’s done it very well.
“I want a bath” Stiles staggers into a standing position and Derek comes with
him because though his current younger and vulnerable self just want a bath and
to sleep. It had come out sounding like , I want to die , instead.
And perhaps Derek heard that which is why he follows Stiles up the stairs to
the bathroom wordlessly. Secretly he doesn't mind thought. After the lake
house, Stiles had demanded they come to his real house. He wanted to be able to
sleep in familiar territory , hopeful away from watching eyes. Derek was
another layer of safety to wrap around himself .
The other man turns on the faucet, following the routine they had established
at Derek's loft over several weeks. By the times Stiles turns around unclothed
, there are vanilla scented bubbles frothing the water. Derek looks away from
stiles until he gets in the tub. Stiles lays his head on the curved rim looking
around the room.
“I don’t remember everything”, the soothing heat of the bath loosens his tongue
, “ I don’t remember Lydia or my mom dying.” but he remembers Peter and the
burdening feelings of sadness remember him.
Derek overturns an empty Irish spring box that he had found in the corner
bringing it over to stiles and sitting. Tentatively he dips his hand in the
water running his fingers through stiles hair. Derek makes him want to be
little, something or someone easily protected. He makes it easy to want to be
selfish.
“Big stiles, me - I don't have footie pajamas do it? “ the answer is obvious
but he’s clinging and Derek lets him.
“No, I don’t think so” his fingers catch in Stiles bangs, a small fond smile
calms the tense line of his mouth.
“I don’t like big me.” it sounds petulant. Like he's complaining about his
adult-self being boring.
He means he hates that version of him.
It’s quiet.Stiles Lays down in the water with his head ducked against the tub
wall.
“I’m scared of getting all my memories back. That person isn’t good Derek. I
don’t want to be him.” if the memories he’s already gotten back are enough to
go off of Stiles is ok with never knowing anything else.
He’s not who he thought he would grow up to be.
“Stiles you're……,” he doesn’t seem sure of what to say “Stiles, Grown up you
isn’t ...bad.” Derek sighs as if Stiles fatigue is permeating the air. “You're
smart and loyal and protective, your always willing to sacrifice yourself for
your friends. I think grown up you tries very hard to be a good person.” it
seems like he should scoff at such a statement but minutely is works to ease
his fear.
“Peter, the one who caused this, he is a bad guy.”
“You will be ok Stiles. No matter what memories you do or don’t get back.”
Derek continues rubbing his damp hand through Stiles' hair, he can hear his
father climb the stairs hesitating at the bathroom before continuing to his
room. The rain is unyielding, it’s the only thing that lends any sense of
continuity to the moment and his anxious thoughts.
Friday pre-trial starts.
With his returning memory the biggest realization is that Peter may be a bad
guy but Stiles is just another side of the same coin.
His hands are not clean.
Chapter End Notes
     It feels a little abrupt to end the previous chapter with him face to
     face with the stalker and then hardly mentioning it but the stalker
     wasn't really an important point , his growing fear and re-gaining
     his memories was. ofc i will address the minor significance of it
     before the end of the series.
     Since the start i had been really interested in de-aging stiles
     through memory manipulation and i dunno about anyone else but i don't
     really like amnesia stories where suddenly they regain all their
     memories. i want there to be a frustration an juxtaposition between
     who stiles was before, who he was when he woke up and that person who
     is caught in the middle.
End Notes
     ok the goal is twice a month. i'm really bad at goals but im too
     invested in this story to stop,
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