WC: 43446
Rated: T
Tags: | Post s2 | Canon Divergent | Canon Revisited | Alpha!Derek | Spark!Stiles | energy bond | Stiles harbors Derek in his bedroom | Derek is 19 | slow burn/slow build | fluff & humor | angst & feels | action & violence | Kidnapped Stiles | Wolf Derek | BAMF Derek | BAMF Stiles | Protective Derek | hurt/comfort | Codependency | panic attacks | wolf cuddles
“…Friendship isn’t required to form an alliance, after all. Do you know what is?”
“I’m on the edge of my seat.
Vaughn says, “Trust.”
Stiles snorts. “And that can exist without friendship… how?”
“You tell me,” she says, “From what I’ve heard, you and your broken alpha weren’t friends when you defeated Peter.”
It isn’t a comparison that Stiles is expecting to hear.
His eyes jump compulsively to Derek on the bed, mind taking him back to the time Vaughn is referring to, to the time when Derek actually used to scare Stiles.
It’s a laughable thought now.
Now, he looks at Derek and all he feels is worry. Nauseating guilt. He looks at Derek and tries to dredge up those long-faded first impressions, but can’t due to them having been replaced by… something else. Something hard for Stiles to place. Something warm and leaching out from his chest like an ache.
Something that tells him: everything has changed.
Whenever Sapnap is close to him - god, it's so often they're within reach of one another now - he thinks about how easy it would be to lose control and let himself burn, it'd just be so easy to be caught up in the heat of the moment.
It's such a slow burn but it could be so quick if he let it.
WC: 37970
Rated: T
Tags: | Post s2 | Canon Divergent | Canon Revisited | Alpha!Derek | Spark!Stiles | energy bond | Stiles harbors Derek in his bedroom | Derek is 19 | slow burn/slow build | fluff & humor | angst & feels | action & violence | Kidnapped Stiles | Wolf Derek | BAMF Derek | BAMF Stiles | Protective Derek | hurt/comfort | Codependency | panic attacks | wolf cuddles
He scrolls down his contact list until he gets to the P’s and selects the fifth one.
The shrill brrrrr of the ring is audible even before Stiles puts it up to his ear. It takes seven for the other line to finally pick up.
But it isn’t a voice that Stiles hears first.
In the distance is the tangle of bubbly conversation, tinkling laughter, the hush of far-off waves breaking against the sea. Each noise softer than the last so that it’s jarring when the voice of the man he’s trying to reach finally barks out a single, Italian word into the mouthpiece as greeting:
“Pronto.”
Stiles schools every petty, recoiling instinct inside of him and sits up straighter.
“Peter,” he says, “We need to talk.”
The silence that follows can only be one of surprise.
But it doesn’t last long.
Peter Hale’s laughter rattles down the line all the way through Stiles in a buzzing chill.
“Stiles.” He enunciates his name like he’s delighted to be saying it, tone dripping into a low rumble. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Stiles’ fist tightens in Derek’s fur. “I have some questions that no one else has been able to answer.”
“Announcing that you came to me as a last resort is hardly the way to entice my interest.”
“You should feel flattered I deigned to call you at all.”
Is there no more of the Light a Spark story? I've got to the end where Vaughan arrives. Is that it?
Yes there is more light a spark coming! 🫶
here’s a little snippet of the beginning of Chapter 10 for proof lol
-
Stiles’ room is darker now that Vaughn is here.
The streetlight outside his window, that usually colors their cul-de-sac in a warm orange wash, has gone out (along with every other streetlight in the neighborhood, if the absolute darkness outside is anything to go by) and he might have blamed it on the abnormal intensity of the storm, if the digital red numbers of his alarm clock weren’t currently glaring at him in his periphery.
2:08 AM
Not the power, then.
Only one abnormality of the night left to blame.
Vaughn is watching Stiles with those glowing, silver eyes.
Aberrant lightning strikes outside the window to transform her into an otherworldly creature caught in a ghostly headlight, antler-crown of electricity splintering out behind her in the night.
“Are you trying to decide if my arrival will be detected?” She sounds almost amused. “I assure you, it won’t.”
Meaning: She knows without being told that they’re in a house full of hypervigilant individuals all antsy for a fight, and Stiles doesn’t just mean the werewolves.
(And the sudden reminder of his dad comes with a lash of guilt as he recalls his adamance yesterday that Stiles not call the shots for him, yet here he is, calling another one right under his roof.)
Maybe he should go wake his dad…
But he doesn’t know what else Peter briefed Vaughn on before she came here—and more pressing than that, he doesn’t know Vaughn, fullstop. Doesn’t know what she’s truly capable of. All he knows is that his awareness of her spark is thick like beeswax in his throat, resonating, resonating, resonating like a humming beehive, and if she isn’t someone Stiles can trust, if she is instead someone he has to protect Derek against, then the last thing he needs is for her to realize how little he understands about a sparks true capabilities.
How little he knows about his own.
He’s pretty sure running to his daddy for help would be a dead giveaway.
“I’m trying to decide,” Stiles says, “If I can trust anyone sent by Peter.
Vaughn smiles, a devilish flash that reveals a straight line of ivories, no imperfection but a two-penny gap between her front teeth.
“That’s probably wise.”
“What,” Stiles huffs, “No words in your defense?”
She smiles again. “I know Peter too well for that.”
Stiles squints at her in consideration.
She isn’t what he’d expected when Peter said new emissary, isn’t what he might picture if asked to visualize an emissary in his head. He’d always sort of assumed that emissaries came out of the womb weathered and crotchety; Vaughn looks hardly older than Stiles, a piercing through her right eyebrow, winged eyeliner, energy radiating off her like he’s in a room with bottled lightning.
She doesn’t seem real.
Like—she manifested from thin air.
Like, if Stiles were to step forward and yank her floor-length cloak to the ground, he’d find static and thunder underneath.
Hiii love!!! I’m SUCH a huge fan of your writing (Hales Bookish Takes is one of my favorite one-offs ever. Like ever.) and I was wondering if you have plans to continue writing light a spark? It’s sooooooo freaking good and I would literally pay you to finish it lol so I’m just very curious if you’re planning on updating it again. SO MUCH LOVE!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖
Hi my darling!!!
(sorry it took me forever to answer this! I just got out of the hospital yesterday so I’ve been a bit out of commission)
First of all thank you so much for the love & compliments!! I’m so happy you enjoy my writing, it means so much to hear that so thanks for saying it 🫶🥹
Secondly: yes I am still writing light a spark and hope to update very soon!
I won’t go into the long and boring of why it’s been so long since an update, but I’m happy to hear there are still readers waiting anxiously for more. Thank you for being patient ❤️
WC: 21364
Rated: T
Tags: | Post s2 | Canon Divergent | Canon Revisited | energy bond | Alpha!Derek | Spark!Stiles | fluff & humor | angst & feels | action & violence | Stiles harbors Derek in his bedroom | Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski | BAMF Derek Hale | hurt/comfort
The alpha twins aren’t gentle.
They throw Stiles down onto the floor of the elevator, his hands flying out to catch himself.
There’s the loud shuttering of the grate door closing as he spins on his hands and knees to face the twins, shoving himself up and into the farthest corner as the cab starts descending.
One of the twins - the slightly bigger one - has his arms folded over his chest, gaze fixed unblinkingly on Stiles as he leans against the wall.
The other twin is smiling at him. A lazy, amused smile. He lunges forward to psyche Stiles out, and it works.
Stiles rears back, heart rattling in his chest like the grate of the elevator behind him when he smacks against it.
Both twins laugh.
Stiles swallows, forcefully. His hands come up to grip the elevator railing for stability as he says, “The rest of Derek’s pack will be here any minute - they’re probably downstairs, right now.”
(And even though he’s bluffing, there is a very real part of Stiles that hopes maybe he is right; maybe the pack has arrived early and is downstairs right now, ready to intercept the twins before Stiles can be taken away. Maybe. But not likely.)
The bigger twin smiles at Stiles like he’s made a joke. “You really think you can lie to us during a full moon? Your pack may still need to be tied up like dogs to withstand its power, but my brother and I make up two fifths of the only alpha-exclusive pack in existence. We thrive on power. If Derek’s pack were here we would have already dealt with them. And if they’re on their way,” a smile spills out over his face like an oil flame, “They aren’t close enough to make a difference anyways.”
The smaller twin sniggers as Stiles’ hope plummets. Because he knows it’s true. Moonrise is still thirty minutes away and the majority of the pack can’t be punctual to save their own lives.
Stiles is on his own, and they know it. For some reason that makes it worse.
WC: 13696
Rated: T
Tags: | Post s2 | Canon Divergent | Canon Revisited | energy bond | Alpha!Derek | Spark!Stiles | fluff & humor | Stiles harbors Derek in his bedroom |
Stiles’ heart catapults itself up into his throat.
His dad has chosen today of all days to skimp on sleeping in?
Stiles flings himself off his bed and onto his feet like a newborn fawn - legs and arms everywhere - as Scott’s voice comes over the line, low and hurt.
“I didn’t know you were holding those things against me... I guess there’s a lot we haven’t talked about.”
“I’m not holding anything against you, Scotty” - Stiles scampers over to the bedroom door, nearly tripping twice before righting himself in time to lower down onto his chest - “I just think you need to re-evaluate who your allies are.”
His eyes come down under the door to peer out onto the hall, and catch sight of his dad’s sock-clad feet heading straight for his bedroom. Then he sees him pause - no doubt catching the sound of the shower - and reroute towards the bathroom’s hall entrance.
Stiles’ eyes widen. “I have to go,” he says hurriedly, “Something just came” -
Scott hangs up.
Stiles barely refrains from cursing. Great, now he can officially add make up with Scott to his never ending list of shit to fix in his life.
He leaps up onto his feet, phone forgotten on the floor as he throws himself towards the door connecting his room and the bathroom - jete’ing over the bean bag chair like some juiced up ballerina at large. He shoves into the bathroom with as much simultaneous speed and stealth as can be mustered under the circumstances, a wave of steam escaping into his bedroom before he’s quickly and quietly reclosing the door behind him.
Derek’s head peeks out of the shower curtain in the next moment. His hair is still sudsy, bushy eyebrows furrowing in horrified realization as the handle of the door connected to the hall starts to jiggle and turn.
(In the point-one nanoseconds of time that Stiles has to think, he envisions exactly how this situation is about to unfold. His dad will open the door and find Stiles standing in the steam filled bathroom, fully dressed, and immediately know something is up. And on the off chance he doesn’t he will undoubtedly shoot into a lecture about water waste, after which he will rip the shower curtain back to yank the tap off only to expose both Derek and their lie in the process. Stiles will be grounded till he’s thirty, and his dad’s trust in him will be shattered. Again.)
The door begins to push inward.
Stiles decides to go with option number two.
He turns and makes direct eye contact with Derek, then mouths move.
WC: 9271
Rated: T
Tags: | Post s2 | Canon Divergent | Canon Revisited | energy bond | Alpha!Derek | Spark!Stiles | fluff & humor | Stiles harbors Derek in his bedroom |
“What do you think, red sauce, or green?”
Stiles holds up the two hot sauces in question, but Derek doesn’t respond. In fact, when Stiles glances over at where he’s manning the cart, he isn’t even looking at Stiles. His eyes are fixed intently on the shelves opposite them, brows furrowed in thought.
“Derek.”
Derek blinks himself back to the present, and looks over at him. “Hmm?”
Stiles turns to look at what Derek had been glaring at; A heart medicine kiosk.
Stiles smirks. “Contemplating your heart health so early?”
Derek rolls his eyes. “I was thinking about what you said earlier, actually. About keeping secrets from the pack.”
It’s not what Stiles had expected him to say. (Truth be told, Stiles has never considered that Derek might actually ruminate in thought over anything he has said.)
“Okay,” says Stiles, blinking in surprise, “And?”
“And turns out,” Derek says, “I agree with you.”
Stiles’ surprise melts quickly into relief, “Oh. Well - good.” He actually can’t stop smiling. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to tamp down on the expression. “Now back to my original question.” He holds the hot sauces up again. “Which one?”
Derek considers them carefully. “What’s the meal?”
Stiles says, “Burritos.”
“Red. Definitely.”
Stiles beams. “Right answer, again.” He sets the red sauce down in their half filled cart and spins to lead them to the next aisle, keeping his gaze held on Derek over his shoulder as he says, “Who knew you could be so reasonable?”
