2022 Sterek Big Bang Teaser: Stitches Come Undone
Thanks to @twsterekbigbang for running this event again.
Story by gremlins-came-and-got-me
Art created by @snarkatthemoon (the awesome banner below too!)
Warning: dark fic. Read at own risk. Full warnings will be on fic. ~ * ~
Prologue
July 26, 2000
The creek was cold. Stiles spluttered unhappily as he waded over sharp pebbles, trying to keep up with his best friend in the world, Derek.
“Slow down,” he called. “My legs aren’t as long as yours. Please wait.”
Derek paused in the middle of the stream, the water lapping gently against his knees. He glared over his shoulder. “You’re the one who wanted to come out here. Don’t tell me that you’ve changed your mind.”
Stiles huffed. Sometimes Derek could be the most infuriating person on the face of the planet. “I didn’t say I wanted to stop,” he said, giving Derek his own glare. “I said wait for me.”
Derek’s face softened and he stumble-slipped his way back to the shallows, bumping his shoulder gently against Stiles’. “Let’s rest here.” An offering of peace, and miraculously, an apology, “I’m sorry; I’ve been mean.”
“It’s okay,” Stiles said automatically, blushing when Derek stared at him. “Okay, well, it’s not really. But it will, right?”
“It will,” Derek confirmed, and then changed the subject. “You didn’t tell me how take-your-kid-to-work day was for you.”
“It was okay.” Truthfully, all Stiles had done was sit in his father’s office and eat pudding cups out of the mini-fridge tucked under the desk. His father, the Sheriff, had been called away to a disturbance of some kind, leaving him all alone and bored. He still had to write a report for summer school about it, but he’d wanted to hang out with his best friend instead. Besides, he could stay up late tonight and work on it after supper.
“Just okay?” Derek grinned at him. Stiles felt butterflies dancing in his stomach. “Maybe I can convince your dad to do a do-over?”
“Maybe.” The Sheriff loved Derek for some reason–maybe because he wasn’t being forced to take summer classes like Stiles.
They stayed in the shallows, walking through the soft silt, watching it swirl around their feet before the ever-present current swept it away. Derek kept collecting round rocks– “Agates,” he explained–to take home to his little brother, Scott.
Scott was far too little to tag along when Derek and Stiles went to the river but that didn’t stop him from whining and crying until Derek promised to bring back something for him.
“Look!” Derek cried suddenly, and Stiles’ head snapped up from where he was trying to bury his feet under the silt and into the mud under it. Derek pointed at a shimmery green moth floating past them. “Make a wish,” he said, almost reverently.
“I wish I could see my mom again,” Stiles whispered, closing his eyes and holding his breath. The water gently murmured as it slipped around his legs and past him, the dank smell of rotting leaves following closely. Reds and yellows, pressed into his lids by the sun, danced across his vision.
He stayed completely still for a full five minutes before he opened his eyes, blinking into the too-bright afternoon. Derek watched him, a thoughtful expression on his face. Once he noticed Stiles moving again, he grinned.
“I’ve got enough agates for Scott if you’re ready to go.”
Stiles glanced once more around their secret wilderness spot and sighed sadly. “I’m ready, I guess. Let’s go home.”
Derek gathered his sizeable collection of rounded rocks and shoved them into his backpack while Stiles pulled on his socks and shoes. Derek almost never wore shoes during the summer months, his soles thickened by walking on rocks and rough ground. Stiles’ feet were too tender to follow suit, and Derek was kind enough not to make fun of him for it.
They uncovered their bikes, a precaution of Derek’s, and started pedaling home.
The ride was short, and they got to Derek’s house first, Stiles was his closest neighbor and even they lived about a mile away, on the edge of Beacon Hills.
By unspoken agreement, Derek was going to give the rocks to Scott and then he and Stiles would continue on to Stiles’ house where they would do Stiles’ homework and eat uncrustables until Derek’s mom called to tell him to come home.
Except, when they broke out of the woods that surrounded the McCall property, the backyard was filled with deputies. There were even a couple of searcher dogs.
Stiles and Derek shared a worried glance before pedaling hard to reach the back porch, where Derek’s mom, Talia McCall, was standing, smoking a cigarette while a deputy tried to talk to her about current photos and routines. Mrs. McCall ignored her to take a deep drag off her almost-butt.
“Mom?” Derek said, reaching out to touch her arm. The reaction was instantaneous–Mrs. McCall lashed out, the back of her hand catching the swell of Derek’s cheek. The deputy moved so that she was between Derek and his mom.
“Where the hell were you?” Mrs. McCall yelled over the deputy’s shoulder. Derek flinched, hunching his shoulders so that he looked smaller. “You were supposed to be watching Scott!”
“Mrs. McCall,” the deputy interjected, “please. We need those pictures of Scott for the volunteers.”
“What volunteers?” Derek asked in a small voice. Even before Mrs. McCall opened her mouth to answer, icy fingers slipped into Stiles’ chest and squeezed his heart.
“Scott’s missing–taken. And it’s your fault!” Mrs. McCall leaped at Derek, forcing him to step backward to avoid being hit again. Only, he stepped too far, his foot finding nothing but air, He fell down, landing hard, staring up at his mom in disbelief.
“No,” he said numbly. “No,” more forcefully.
Mrs. McCall settled back and lit another cigarette. She blew a cloud of smoke at Stiles. He scrambled off the porch before he started coughing and knelt next to Derek.
“You were supposed to stay home and watch Scott. And where were you? Off traipsing through the woods with your little fairy friend.” She spit at Stiles, the phlegm landing with an ugly splat by his leg.
Stiles buried his anger and hurt from her words and actions. Scott was missing–that was more important than his best friend’s mother insulting him. Derek didn’t seem to share the same sentiment as he scrambled to his feet and shouted at his mom, “Don’t call him names! He’s not the reason Scott is gone. You didn’t tell me I was supposed to be here. You were supposed to be watching him. You’re the reason he’s gone!”
Derek spun away, stomping to his bike. Stiles matched him stride for stride and then pedal for pedal as they rode into town.
They stopped at the library where the head librarian, Mrs. Johnson was weeding the flowerbeds in front of the two-story structure. Scott loved coming here, especially during the summer when there were all kinds of programs.
Mrs. Johnson nodded at them.
“Have you seen my brother today?” Derek asked.
“No, I haven’t.” Mrs. Johnson paused, eyeing them both critically. “Is he not at home?”
Derek shook his head. “The deputies are looking for him. I think they think he ran away. My mom thinks he was taken.”
“Oh my. Well, I will certainly keep an eye and ear out for any news. But boys, you’d probably best not spread the news around town. The deputies have a job to do. You wouldn’t want to make it harder, would you?” They both shook their heads. “Good boys. Run along now, dearies. I’ve got to finish this before we close in half an hour.”
They walked their bikes toward Stiles’ home. Halfway there, Derek stopped at an empty lot, shrugging off his backpack. He dumped the rocks out onto grass, picking through them, choosing one which he handed to Stiles to hold while he lined the rest of the rocks up along the edge of the sidewalk.
“For Scott,” he said, taking the single rock back and tucking it into his backpack. “For when he comes home.”
Stiles nodded, hoping that his dad and the other deputies would find Scott soon.
He was disappointed, writing the details of that day in his journal as hours turned to days turned to weeks turned to years.
Scott never came home.
~ * ~
