What is said cannot be forgotten
Resume: When Stiles gets drunk, things he normally wouldn’t say come out. Unfortunately for him, a certain wolf finds him and takes him home. There’s a lot of red on Stiles’ regrets list… and that include hidden repressed feelings he might have for the wolf.
Warning: Contains boy x boy and drunk themes
Word count: 1329
Ship: Stiles x Derek
The night had fallen a few hours ago and the shadows that the streetlights produced on the deserted street created terrifying images, making the scene even darker than it was. In the middle of the road, staggering as he walked there was a young man. He had all the difficulties of the world to walk straight, zigzagged dangerously, and almost fell several times on the cold and wet ground caused by the rain which had stopped shortly before.
Stiles wasn’t cold. Despite the few clothes he was wearing. Only a thin t-shirts and a pair of jogging in this rather cold night for the season. But the effect of alcohol stifled any outside temperature under the heat it caused, making his cheeks burning. And then, he no longer cared about what might happen to him. Being hit by a car or catching a cold; nothing mattered when his limit of consumption was exceeded, something he didn’t usually allow himself.
But not that night. Nothing was good. Nothing had happened as expected, and all that got added on Stiles’ red list of regrets. A long list of errors, things he should have or shouldn’t have done, a list of a sinister, painful and bloody red.
So he had done everything to forget that day; he drank. He drank until he got sick of it, because everyone knew that at some point, Stiles Stilinski loose his good mood to sink into his negative thoughts when he was drinking too much. And these thoughts, mixing with the effects of alcohol, didn’t match at all.
A car passed near him by making his tires squeak to avoid him. It didn’t make him move, or even jump. And what if he got hit? Stiles’ thoughts were misty and he no longer thought normally. He was too absorbed by his regrets, which no longer wanted to leave his mind. He didn’t notice, however, that the car which had almost overthrown him had stopped farther. Nor that the driver had come down and was now running towards him, anxiety mix to anger on his face.
“Are you out of your mind? What are you doing in the middle of the road? You want to die stupid? ” The hoarse voice shrieked after him. He was angry.
“Why should I care?” Stiles replied, covering himself in his feet before catching up. “You don’t know anything, so don’t tell me what I should do!”
The driver caught him when he staggered again, preventing him from falling to the ground and hurting himself. But the latter didn’t appreciate his gesture and repulsed him with a brutality he didn’t know.
“Let me go …” Stiles grunted before closing his eyes and letting himself be carried away by his savior. His head was spinning too much; he no longer had the strength to resist. And his mouth was too pasty to protest a scathing reply.
Stiles didn’t notice the car moving. He had not even noticed that he had entered the car. All he remembered of this brief moment was the sermon his father had given him when he entered god knows how in his house, a sermon that was interspersed with moments of misty silence. He couldn’t remember either going to bed, or putting his blanket on his shoulders. Painful memory flash sometimes mounted on his head, but he tried to bury them as much as possible. He didn’t want to remember, not today.
“Rest yourself …”
The voice was soft, low, almost a whisper that came to tickle a memory. A memory of a person who usually wouldn’t have that kind behavior with him. A person whom Stiles loved more than he thought, more than he allowed himself to. But that evening, his sarcastic barriers that usually held back his overflowing emotions, which hid from others his real feelings was laid flat. There was no more filter, no need to hide.
Then, as he was about to leave, Stiles held out a numb hand to his savior to hold him faintly by the sleeve of his leather coat.
“You should have hit me with the car,” Stiles muttered in a numb, indifferent voice before suddenly dropping Derek’s arm.
The latter didn’t really appreciate his comment. He turned quickly to Stiles, frowning, his jaw so tense that the muscles of his cheeks protruded. He grabbed him by the collar and approached his face near the teenager’s one.
“Never say that again.”
A calm and rising anger appeared in his voice, which made Stiles shudder. Derek was too close and his mind was too confused to think rationally. He couldn’t hear anymore, his ears were clogged, cottony, and all around him was nothing but silence. He only saw Derek’s face, close, his hard lips forming a thin line of anger. Everything else was blurry, and all of his attention was entirely focused on those inviting lips. His deep, repressed feelings for the old alpha rose to the surface in spite of himself. The temptation was too strong. So it was clumsy that Stiles decided to put his mouth against Derek’s, in a coarse kiss.
The wolf’s eyes widened in surprise as he pushed him away, pulling back, a hand against his lips, almost shocked. In front of him, Stiles sank back into his bed laughing with an inappropriate laugh, a totally drunk one.
“I have a long list of regrets you know? But the worst, the one at the top of the list, the one that overflows and drips with red, is not the bad notes, the missed outings, the time I could have catch up with my father, all the crap that I said or did during all of my miserable life, or the bad things that I could have done to the pack, either when I was possessed or in total control of my body, no … ”
Stiles placed an arm against his face, on his eyes to hide his tears that were starting to overflow. Deep, hoarse sobs mingled with his broken voice.
Derek had recovered from the teenager’s action and had come closer during his monologue.
Stiles didn’t know, but hearing him talk like that, openly and painfully because of alcohol was breaking his cold werewolf heart.
“My biggest regret is that I never had the courage to assert myself … I am cowardly and weak, unable to save anyone, not my friends, not you, not even myself …”
The rest of his words were hardly inaudible under Stiles’ loud sobs. He pulled his arm off his face to turn his head towards Derek, his eyes now red by the tears.
“Unable to confess my feelings …,” he finally hardly adds before turning to the opposite side to hide his face from Derek. Stiles caught one of his pillows and pressed it against him to stifle the sobs that followed.
Several minutes passed in the sound of his sobs echoing in the room before he finally calmed down. Derek stepped over to Stiles without hesitation to put his hand gently on his shoulder, turned him on his back and thus have a better view of his face in tears. Stiles had finally fallen asleep and his face was slowly lightening for a calm and peace expression.
The wolf detailed the human face, his eyes closed, his nose turned up, his lips parted, and his moles. Then he stepped forward and laid his lips delicately on his warm forehead. He left them there for a few seconds before putting his own forehead against Stiles’ and closed his eyes with a sigh.
“I’ve been aware of your feelings for a long time, Stiles.”
Derek opened his eyes and smiled for himself.
“I’m only waiting for you to be ready … and I refuse that this moment is caused by alcohol.”
He stood up and left Stiles’ room, closing the light, then turned one last time to look at the teenager.
“I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
A/N: Hey, so I decided to write with more details and complicated sentences, even though I know it would be harder when I translate it, but I was tired of the monotone stories I was writing. I’d really like if you could tell me what you think about it! (This is also my first Sterek fanfic)
Request are still open!!
