#stereklyrics5

[midnightisquiet]

STEREK WEEK 2019: Day 2 - Lyrics & Quotes

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Santa Monica

*Slides in three days late with my first fic in 84 years*

For Sterek Week Day 2, Music & Lyrics. Inspired by Santa Monica by Everclear (one of my favorite bands ever). I've wanted to use this song for a Sterek fic for ages, and it was supposed to be mostly happy. This isn't really that, even though it is a happy ending, it ended up way angsty for such a short thing (I may eventually write that happier version, but who knows, really).

(I may have cried a little writing this, but I'm kinda a mess lately, so you probably won't.)

The previously muted noise of the party filters out at full volume into the still night air for a brief moment as the sliding door opens and shuts again, and Derek takes a deep breath to steady himself upon recognizing Stiles' heartbeat. He lets a lungful of Stiles' scent wash through him, and readjusts his arms where they're propped against the railing of the Stilinski's deck.

"Hey, I've been looking for you," Stiles says sincerely, settling into the space next to Derek, despite the fact that the entire deck is empty; there was a time, long enough ago that it seems practically unreal, when that would have pissed him off, but it's been ages since he's felt anything but comfort in Stiles' proximity.

"Looks like you did a pretty good job, then," Derek teases, just to hear Stiles' snort.

Stiles bumps their shoulders together, and then doesn't move away, and it's kind of torture, but Derek can never bring himself to break contact when Stiles offers it so easily. Just like he can't bring himself to tell him how much it means to him--how much Stiles means to him--and how much he craves both him and his touch. 

"Y'know, you have a habit of sneaking out of my parties, Der. If I were a less secure guy, I'd think you didn't think my accomplishments were worth celebrating," Stiles says, mostly sincerely, but Derek knows there's a thread of uncertainty underneath the joking and the bravado, even six years out of high school, Stiles occasionally forgets his confidence.

Derek leans into Stiles' shoulder more heavily, sliding over so their arms are touching, too. He debates telling him the truth--that celebrating another thing that's taking Stiles away from Beacon Hills, away from him, hurts enough that he needs to step away to keep himself grounded. He settles on a half-truth. "Just needed some air, you know I'm proud as hell of you, Stiles."

Derek hears Stiles exhale deeply, and then Derek's heart skips a beat as Stiles relaxes fully against Derek's side, his head resting on Derek's shoulder and his free arm wrapping around to fiddle with the sleeve of Derek's jacket. Derek lets himself pretend for a minute, that he gets to keep Stiles like this, and rests his cheek on the top of Stiles' head.

They're both quiet for a few long minutes, and when Stiles breaks the silence, the words squeeze around Derek's heart. 

"Um, Santa Monica, is like, really far away," Stiles begins, pulling away gently when he feels Derek stiffen, but he keeps his hand on Derek's wrist as he turns to look at him.

Derek nods, and as much as he'd like to ignore the topic, he turns to face Stiles, careful not to dislodge his hand. "Almost can't be farther." He adds from me, mentally, but he's pretty sure Stiles knows he's thinking it.

Stiles clears his throat, "Yeah. But I was thinking that that night be a good thing."

Before Derek can yank his arm away, Stiles has somehow managed to take Derek's hand in both of his. "Hey, hey, hear me out, okay? Just--"

Derek is frozen. Here feels as though his heart has stopped and his body has somehow stopped getting the giant flashing run run run messages that his brain is sending, because Stiles is about to tell him that he's glad to be getting away from him, and Derek's whole world is about to fall apart. Again.

Stiles is much closer, suddenly, right in front of Derek, their chests separated only by the space created by their clasped hands between them. "Breathe, Derek," Stiles says urgently but softly, and apparently that's what Derek's body needed to get back online, because he can breathe then, even if he still can't think.

"Der," Stiles asks, searching Derek's face as though checking that he's still there, "Come with me."

Derek feels the shock overtake his expression. Stiles' lips quirk ever so slightly upwards, and he continues, "Come with me, Derek. My place is right near the ocean, we can get away from here, leave all the bad stuff behind. We can spend our weekends swimming and counting palm trees, and starting over. Just you and me and the slightly West-er Coast. Say yes."

Derek is frozen for a whole new reason now, it's like he's been sleepwalking, and all of the sudden woken up to a world that's a few shades brighter. He can't do anything but stare at Stiles in wonder and smile.

At least, he thought he was smiling. He may have missed the mark, because Stiles is anxious and a little scared when he adds "Please, Der? I kinda need you to say something, because if you don't I think I might--"

"I need a new suitcase," Derek says, squeezing Stiles' hands and definitely smiling this time.

"A new suitc--" Stiles trails off questioningly before a bright grin blooms on his face, too. He inhales as though he's going to say something else, but it's as though all of Derek's inability to move the past few minutes has given him a new sense of urgency, because before he can speak, Derek is cradling his face in both hands and pressing their lips together.

Stiles doesn't hesitate to respond, going soft and pliant for Derek immediately, like this is something they've done a million times. The kiss is almost chaste, their lips meeting and parting unhurriedly for several long moments, but it's perfect, and when they pull away, they only part enough to be able to look at each other, each wearing matching looks of awe.

"So, that was a yes, right?" Stiles asks after they've been grinning at each other an indeterminate amount of time.

Derek laughs, and it catches him by surprise. "Yeah, Stiles," he says, running his thumb along Stiles' cheek, "Let's live beside the ocean together."

[halevetica]

I Never Existed

Stiles rolled out of Derek's bed, grabbing his underwear and pants in a hurry.

"I'll see you later?" Stiles asked, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his tone.

"Sure," Derek nodded, his eyes on a book in his lap.

"It's Theo and I's anniversary soon," Stiles said, pulling on his shirt.

Derek didn't respond.

"I'm thinking of breaking up with him," Stiles eyed Derek for any reaction. A hopeful glint in his eyes or a curve of his lips into a smile. But he didn't get either of those.

Derek remained emotionless as he spoke. "Not on my account I hope."

Stiles' tongue flicked across his lower lip before his teeth sunk into it. His eyes dropping in embarrassment.

"We've talked about this, Stiles," Derek huffed, his eyes still trained on his book.

"No, you talked, I listened," Stiles objected, his tone sharper than he intended.

"I know you always say you'd give him away for me, But I've never been the one for commitment. I'm gonna leave you either way if you stay with me. So go home, and tell him I never existed," Derek finally met Stiles' eyes. He hated seeing them sad, but he couldn't give Stiles what he wanted.

"But he-"Stiles started but Derek cut in.

"I don't wanna hear it if it isn't involved with me, cause your relationship is none of my business."

Stiles took in a deep breath before huffing it out, "If you don't have any kind of feelings for me then why am I here?" he'd been dying to ask that question since the second time they met up.

Derek rose his brows at Stiles, "For the sex."

Stiles bit down on his bottom lip again. It hurt to hear Derek talk like that. Yeah, the sex was great, but Stiles loved Derek. Had for a while. It took a couple drinks to get the guy talking but when he did, he was sweet and less guarded, and Stiles fell for him. But sober Derek was gruff, and distant and rejected Stiles over and over and yet he kept coming back. Just like with Theo. No matter how much they fought and how shitty Theo treated him, he kept going back. Why couldn't he find someone who wanted him no matter what?

Derek watched at Stiles walked out of his loft without another word. He wondered if that was the end of him and Stiles. A twisting in his stomach reminded him that it was a good thing if so. Getting attached was never part of the plan and yet here he was, dying to rush after Stiles and tell him to leave Theo, to never go back. To stay with him instead. However, bitter experience kept him in bed. Half of him hoping to never see Stiles again, the other half already missing his touch.

Stiles fought the tears in his eyes as he climbed into his jeep. What had just been a drunken one night stand to get over Theo after their first break up, had turned into a regular meeting. After the first night, Stiles had craved more of what Derek made him feel; alive and wanted. When Derek had made it clear that nothing else would ever develop, Stiles told himself it was for the best and when Theo came crawling back, begging for Stiles to give him another chance, he did. But he couldn't ever get Derek out of his head. It had taken a week for Stiles and Theo to start fighting again, and in a fit of rage, Stiles called Derek.

Derek didn't care that Stiles was still technically with Theo. He was willing to keep the secret if Stiles was, and it had been surprisingly easy for Stiles. So easy he'd been doing it for close to six months. Any time Stiles and Theo fought, Stiles would find himself seeking out Derek.

When Stiles started to hint at something more between him and Derek though, Derek got more distant. He reminded Stiles that it was strictly physical between them and it never failed to hurt, but Stiles had promised himself that he'd leave one or both of them before Theo and his one-year anniversary. He'd hoped that with the news that Stiles was leaving Theo, Derek would accept him with open arms. But Derek made it very clear that he was not an option for Stiles.

"I'm gonna leave you either way if you stay with me."

Derek's words replayed in Stiles' head, causing the tears to slip down his face. What was it about him that made him unlovable? Theo didn't love him; he wouldn't treat Stiles the way he did otherwise. Derek didn't love him. Lydia hadn't loved him. Malia hadn't loved him. He just wanted to know why.

-

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Stiles had walked out of Derek's apartment. Derek had expected to see him again, had hoped for it even. He reminded himself that it was for the best. Getting attached was what got him hurt in the past. Stiles was no different than Nick, or Andrew, or Braiden, or Jennifer or... He couldn't even think the last name. The one who truly hurt him. Took advantage of him in the worst way. Made him the truly jaded person he was.

Derek tossed back another shot, his eyes scanning for a potential one night stand to get his mind off Stiles. Erica, his best friend, had drug him out after hiding in his loft, in hopes of Stiles coming back.

A melodic laugh, caught his attention, making his heart leap in his chest.

"Stiles, don't look now, but there's a really hot guy at your nine o' clock eyeing you hard," Allison whispered loudly in Stiles' ear.

Stiles had broken up with Theo and cut Derek from his life. He was trying to concentrate more on himself and his friends. He was currently out celebrating Allison's birthday. It was the first time he'd been out in weeks.

Stiles swiveled his head to see who Allison could be talking about. His stomach churned and his heart flipped at the sight.

Allison frowned, noticing the way Stiles' face paled. "What's wrong?"

"I need some air," Stiles said, sliding from his chair then. He beelined for the exit, he couldn't do this. He couldn't break down now. He ignored the concerned calls of Allison, Scott and Isaac.

A gust of cool evening air washed over him as he stepped outside. He gripped at the wall to steady himself. He never imagined seeing Derek would elicit such a strong reaction. Of course, he'd not imagined seeing Derek after only a short period of time. Theo had been easier to get over despite the fact that Theo called him constantly, begging for one last chance. The lack of Derek's calls hurt Stiles more than the tears in Theo's eyes ever could.

"Stiles."

The familiar voice saying his name, made him stiffen. There's was no inflection. No hint as to what Derek was thinking or feeling.

Stiles decided to take a page from Derek's playbook and remain silent.

"It's been a while," Derek continued.

Stiles closed his eyes. He could practically feel Derek's hands running down his back. Feel the scratch of his beard on his neck.

"I didn't see Theo in there," Derek tried again, his voice slightly softer.

That caused something to snap in Stiles. He whirled around; his hands clenched in fists. "I thought I wasn't supposed to talk about him. Isn't my relationship none of your business?"

Derek's jaw clenched and Stiles saw the walls going up, but he couldn't give in to Derek again. He would never get over him otherwise.

"I just assumed you'd have come back after you left him," Derek's tone was sharp and his shoulders tense. He shouldn't have come after Stiles. This had been a mistake.

"You said you were gonna leave me either way, so why bother?" Stiles snapped. He'd never been so snappy with Derek. It felt good and wrong at the same time.

Derek dropped his head slightly. "You knew where I stood going into this."

Stiles felt tears prick behind his eyes. "And I thought I could handle that. I was wrong."

Derek's eyes met Stiles' again, his expression softer now and apologetic.

"So why are you out here? Why come talk to me?" Stiles snapped. He couldn't handle this. Seeing Derek; it hurt.

Derek opened his mouth to respond but realized he didn't have a reason. Or he did and he just wasn't man enough to admit it to himself much less Stiles. His mouth closed and he dropped his head once again.

"Right," Stiles nodded. Derek had hoped to sleep with him again. That was all Stiles was good for.

He stepped past Derek, to leave. He'd apologize to Allison later.

"Stiles, wait," Derek grabbed Stiles' arm pulling him back.

Stiles found himself chest to chest with Derek, their breaths tangling with how close they were.

Derek dove in then, pressing his lips to Stiles' in a hungry kiss.

Unable to help himself, Stiles melted into the familiar taste of Derek despite his brain screaming at him to stop. Their lips and tongue's slotting together effortlessly like they'd done this hundreds of times. They had. This made Stiles pull back finally, breaking the kiss abruptly.

Stiles turned to leave, but Derek's hand was still around his arm.

"Where are you going?" Derek had hoped for one more night. That's all he needed. Just to wean himself off.

"To pretend you never existed," Stiles sneered, before jerking out of Derek's grasp.

Derek's jaw clenched. Clearly those words had hurt Stiles. He regretted saying them now. He could go after him, but once again bitter experience kept him planted as Stiles climbed into his jeep and drove off.

- part 2 -

A low moan in Derek's ear, that closely resembled his name, made him bite down on the neck his face was buried into. A pleasured hiss told him it was enjoyable. His hands slid down the body hovering over him, his fingers digging into soft flesh as they went.

"Derek," Stiles whimpered, lifting himself off Derek's lap slightly before pressing back down slowly, dragging an agreeable sound from the other man's throat.

The pressure building in Derek's abdomen had him gripping harder at the man on his lap.

"Shit," Derek bolted up, his breaths heavy and his eyes struggling to adjust to the dim lighting.

Another dream. Derek dropped his head. He felt the wetness in the sheets. That was the second time this week and this was the third week of this.

Derek threw the covers back, glaring at his clock on the side table before padding off to the bathroom. It wasn't even seven a.m. Guess he was up for the day. He always had a hard time falling asleep after a dream like that.

It had felt so real, even after all this time. He'd memorized the way Stiles had felt and sounded so well he sometimes forgot that they were just dreams.

Derek stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the disappointment from his body. He only wished it could wash away the disappointment inside too.

"He's not worth it, Derek," he told himself. He often found talking about it out loud to himself helped. "He wouldn't be good for you."

Only part of him believed that. Another part said that he was the one not good for Stiles. But then there was the tiniest sliver that said that maybe they were exactly what the other needed. He shoved that part down deep, pretending it didn't exist. It was easier not to think of it.

-

Stiles plopped down on the couch, grabbing the remote off the table on his way. He'd spent all day at work and then spent the evening having dinner with his dad. To say he was worn out was an understatement.

The station was understaffed as of late, so he had an extra work load and he just wanted to rest. So when someone knocked on his door, he couldn't help but let out a small groan. It was almost ten o'clock at night, who could possibly be at his door at this hour?

He didn't even bother putting on a shirt as he traipsed over to the door and swung it open.

His breath hitched.

"Stiles," Derek breathed out almost in relief. He hadn't expected Stiles to answer.

Stiles remained frozen in the doorway.

Derek's eyes raked over Stiles. He had always found Stiles incredibly attractive and right now in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, Derek was reminded of his attraction.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles demanded, finding his voice finally. He felt nervous under Derek's gaze. He was suddenly very aware of how naked he was.

"I...miss you," Derek admitted quietly.

Stiles rolled his eyes, anger washing over him.

"Not like that," Derek added hurriedly. "I mean, not only like that."

This caused Stiles to frown.

"I miss talking to you. I miss your smile. I miss hearing about work. I miss listening to you complain about Scott. I miss spending time with you," Derek found himself admitting things he never imagined saying out loud.

Stiles' frown deepened. "How drunk are you?"

"What? Not at all," Derek shook his head. Sure, he'd had a drink before coming over, but it was just to give him the courage to say these things. He was far from drunk though.

"You miss me?" Stiles asked skeptically.

Derek nodded, swallowing hard. He was regretting this already. Damn Erica and Boyd for convincing him.

"You're sure you don't just miss the sex?" Stiles crossed his arms.

"Well of course I miss the sex, the sex was...beyond great, but I hated when you left. I hated watching you go back to Theo over and over again. I hated waiting for your call all the time," Derek took a half step forward as if asking Stiles' permission to touch him.

Stiles took a step back forcing Derek to refrain from reaching out.

"Why?"

"Because I...I want to be with you," Derek's throat felt tight as he spoke. The words felt foreign in his mouth.

"You don't do commitment, remember?" Stiles sneered. "So how do you expect me to believe you don't just want me for the sex?"

Derek dropped his head, his previous words had clearly left a bad taste in Stiles' mouth. Not that he could blame him. "I'm sorry I pushed you away. I was, still am, afraid of the way I feel about you. Getting attached was never part of the plan. Strictly physical, that's all it was supposed to be. But you let me be vulnerable. You let me be myself with you and you wanted me despite it. You were willing to give up Theo for me."

Stiles noticed the way Derek's shoulders were hunched in shame and how his eyes reflected the worry he felt. He was expecting Stiles' rejection.

"What happened to you that made you this way? Who hurt you so bad that you can't even admit how you feel for someone?" Stiles needed Derek to be honest with him, to know that he was genuine.

"Everyone," Derek's eyes dropped.

"My dad ran out on my mom and I when I was young. My mom died before my twelfth birthday. I was tossed around from foster family to foster family. My first boyfriend cheated on me. My second boyfriend used me to get to one of my foster siblings at the time. My first girlfriend rejected me when she found out I was into guys as well. My second girlfriend cheated on me. And my last girlfriend..."Derek trailed off.

"What?" Stiles took a step forward, urging Derek to continue.

"She took advantage of me in a way no one should ever be taken advantage of. I told her I loved her, and she used it against me and then mocked me for it."

Stiles saw the hurt in Derek's eyes now, the trauma from his past visible in his posture.

"I'm so sorry," Stiles took another step forward.

"I didn't want to hurt you, and I know that I did. I was honest up front about how I viewed our relationship. I thought you understood. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I did understand, but I just wanted you to want me the way I wanted you. And I don't mean physically."

Derek dropped his head, "I do."

Stiles stepped forward once more, reaching a hand out to lift Derek's chin. "Do you trust me?"

Derek only nodded.

"Then tell me. Tell me how you feel about me."

Derek swallowed, his throat closing at the thought.

"I can't..."Derek turned his head away from Stiles. His chest constricting at the mere idea of those words.

"Would it help if I told you how I feel about you?" Stiles didn't want to pressure Derek into saying something he wasn't ready for, but he needed to know this wasn't a trick. A ploy to get Stiles into bed again.

Derek snapped his head up to look at Stiles, disbelief and hope dancing in his sage green eyes. "But you left. I thought you hated me."

"I left because I didn't want to get hurt anymore. I left because I was sure you only wanted me for the sex. I left because I love you."

Derek's heart flipped at the words he'd wanted to hear all his life. He hadn't heard those words since his mother died. Not even as a lie. His foster families never told him that. None of his past relationships had told him that.

Derek stepped towards Stiles, reaching a hand out to cup the side of his face. "Say it again."

"I love you."

Derek's heart was pounding heavily in his chest. He leaned forward, his forehead resting on Stiles'. He closed his eyes. "Again."

"I love you, Derek." Stiles obliged. He would tell Derek that as many times as he wanted to hear it. He could see how much it meant to him.

Derek dipped in, his lips catching Stiles' in a gentle kiss.

Stiles' hands pulled Derek in closer, by the lapels of his jacket, deepening the kiss. The familiar taste of Derek made Stiles' stomach flip. He'd missed Derek. The past few months had been hard for him. He'd stared at Derek's number on many a lonely night, convincing himself it was a bad idea.

When Derek finally broke the kiss, their breathes tangled between them in heavy pants, Derek whispered, "I love you too."

For the prompt: Lyrics and quotes

Inspired by the song ‘I never existed’ by Chase Atlantic

Consider buying me a coffee, I would really appreciate it!

[chrysthebadwolf]

STEREK WEEK 2019- Day 2-  Lyrics&Quotes

A pure soul And beautiful You Don’t understand Don’t fear me now I will breath For the both of us

Stand Inside Your Love- The Smashing Pumpkins

[seanchaidh7]

For day 2 of @sterekweek2019

Lyrics & Quotes

All for Us

Ohh, taking it all for us

Taking it all

Taking it all for us

Ohh, doing it all for love

Doing it all

Doing it all for love

Taking it all for us, oh

Doing it all for love

Yeah-eah, yeah-eah

Too much in my system (famine, famine)

Money MIA (pockets hella empty)

Mama making ends meet (making ends meet)

Working like a slave (Mississippi, ay, ay)

Daddy ain't at home, no (father, father)

Gotta be a man (Michael Corleone)

Do it for my homegrowns (sisters, brothers)

Do it for the fam (yeah, so tell 'em, Labby)

Ay

Just for your love, yeah, I'll

Give you the world

Mona Lisa's smile

Hey

Hell, I'll do twenty-five to life

If it makes me your king

A star in your eyes

Guilty or innocent

My love is infinite, I'm giving it

No need for prisoners

Bitch, please, hands up

This is a stickup, 'cause I'm

Hey, yeah

I'm taking it

Yeah-eah

I'm taking it all for us, oh

Doing it all for love

Yeah-eah, yeah-eah

Guess you figured my two times two 

Always equates to one

Dreamers are selfish

When it all comes down to it

I hope one of you come back 

To remind me of who I was

When I go disappear

Into that good night

(Good night, good night, good night, good night)

I'm taking it all for us, oh

Doing it all for love

Yeah-eah, yeah-eah

[purpleyin]

Teen Wolf moodboards: Sterek - lyrics from “Apocalypse” by Cigarettes After Sex (thanks to @tygermine for the song suggestion).

Made for @sterekweek2019  and Day 2 prompt ‘lyrics & quotes.’

--

You've been locked in here forever, and you just can't say goodbye -

Your lips, my lips, apocalypse -

Go and sneak us through the rivers flood is rising up on your knees -

Oh please, come out and haunt me, I know you want me -

Oh, when you're all alone, I will reach for you, when you're feeling low, I will be there too

[thedaughterofkings]

Pirouettes and Practice Peeks

Written for @sterekweek2019​ Day 2 : Lyrics & Quotes - a little loosely interpreted!^^ Please enjoy 900 words of awkward Derek and pure fluff!

Derek only sees him for a minute or so each week. 

His bus home stops across from a dance studio and on Wednesdays Derek makes sure to sit on the right side of the bus. With the darkness coming earlier every day, it’s easy to see into the studio, as brightly lit as it is. Most afternoons and evenings are filled with dance classes, everything from baby and daddy dancing to awkward teenagers learning how to waltz to zumba for grandmas. 

But on Wednesdays, there’s just him.

Derek doesn’t know his name, barely even knows his face, but he knows how his body moves to music Derek can’t hear. The most fascinating thing though is that Derek can’t tell which style he trains for. One week it’s ballet, the next something closer to Jazz dance, then he’s joined by a strawberry blonde woman for some ballroom dance. One night Derek is pretty sure he recognises the dance routine from Flashdance, only to choke on his own spit when the next week gifts him with a kilt, flying up tantalisingly high on every jump. 

When the bus doesn’t stop to drop someone off, Derek sometimes only catches a mere glimpse of the dancer, a pose held for the few seconds he sees him, a pirouette so quick he blurs in front of Derek’s eyes. Those evenings make him seem even more like a dream, a vision disappearing as quickly as it appears. 

Derek wouldn’t ever admit it, and Laura can certainly never know, but he times his bus ride home on Wednesdays for those fleeting glimpses. Which is why he’s very disappointed when one Wednesday in mid December a meeting runs late and makes him miss his usual bus. 

The later bus is far emptier than his usual one, so there’s no shortage of free spaces, but Derek still automatically sits down on the right side of the bus, at the window, even though he knows there’s no point now. The dancer is probably long gone now. 

Indeed, when the bus stops, the dance studio is dark, the light from the street lamp reflected in its empty window. Derek had known that would be the case, but he still feels a sharp sting of disappointment. 

“I haven’t seen you before, are you new?”

The voice makes Derek look up slowly and brings him face to face with who must be his dancer. Up close, the guy is almost absurdly pretty, big amber eyes crowned by long, dark lashes, pink, plump lips that are pulled up in a smile that reveals teeth shining brighter against the contrast of the dark flush on his cheeks. For a moment Derek thinks he has fallen asleep and is dreaming on the bus. 

“But I have seen you,” he replies dumbly and dancer guy’s smile brightens even more.

“Oh cool! Where?”

“Here,” Derek says and then corrects himself when dancer guy’s eyebrows furrow: “I mean, in the studio. When the bus stops.” Dancer guy’s frown deepens and Derek hurriedly adds: “I’m not a stalker, though, I promise! I just like your dancing! And I’ve never gotten off the bus, just watched you on our way past. I don’t even know your name!”

Dancer guy studies him for a moment, expression unreadable and then says: 

“I’m Stiles. It’s nice to meet you, not-Stalker.”

He stretches out a hand and Derek, overwhelmed with the events of tonight, first has to fumble around with his phone, almost dropping it in the process, before he can manage to grasp it.

“Derek,” he replies. “Derek Hale. I work a little further into town and really do need to take this bus, I promise.”

“I believe you,” Stiles reassures him and after a brief moment of hesitation he seems to come to a decision and adds: “If you’d like to catch more than a few seconds of my dancing, we’re doing a production in the City Hall Friday night. Eight pm. There’ll be a ticket for you at the door if you want one, Derek Hale. And perhaps afterwards you can tell me what you liked about my dancing over a drink or two.”

And with that he gets up and starts making his way towards the front of the bus, which has stopped again without Derek even noticing. As it is, Stiles is almost out of the door already before Derek finds his voice again and calls out: “I’ll be there!”

He isn’t sure Stiles has even heard him anymore, the doors closing before Derek’s last word has fully formed, but then he sees Stiles jump into a twirling pirouette, ending it with a bow and a wave towards Derek, who waves back, but forgoes the pirouette for now.

“City Hall, Friday night, eight pm,” he whispers to himself and tries not to grin too widely.

He has no idea what awaits him there - judging by Stiles’ practices, it might as well be Swanlake as Step up, but that doesn’t even matter. He’s going to see Stiles dance in two days time, really properly dance, not just sneak a peek at a practice.

And he has a date afterwards!

Potentially he’s even more excited about that. Not yet excited enough to try a pirouette though. He’ll leave that to Stiles.

Can’t miss his date because of a broken leg, can he?

Oh god, he has a date with dancer guy! Whom he sort of maybe slight stalked!

If this goes anywhere, they are going to have to come up with a different cover story, because Laura can never, ever know about this. 

All of my Sterekweek fics

[jmeelee]

Sterek Week 2019 · Themes: Lyrics & Quotes, Canon Highlights

Rated: T

Words: 1,137

Based on the song, Put the Gun Down by ZZ Ward

*Warning: While this is very much a Sterek story (pre-sterek, if you will), it is the last episode of Teen Wolf from Lydia’s POV. 

++++++++++

“It’s time to put the guns down.”

-Chris Argent, Wolves of War

Lydia’s relationships with men have always been complicated.  It starts with her father, who not only divorces Lydia’s mom but his daughter as well when he abandons Beacon Hills to start a shiny-new family.  She isn’t naive enough to believe it will end with Stiles Stilinski, but deep down in a very secret part of her heart, she’d hoped. 

She won't define herself by the men who pass her like ships in the night, but she’s fiercely intelligent, adaptive and insightful, and each signal flash illuminates more of her truth. From Jackson Whittemore, Lydia discovers the cost of hiding who you are; from Aiden Steiner, the price of concealing your heart.  Scott McCall teaches her what a family can be, and Peter Hale demonstrates the heights and depths her power can reach.  What Jordan Parrish could have shown her she doesn't allow herself to explore, because the fire burning between two harbingers of death can’t possibly sustain life.  

Then, there’s Stiles.  

The image reflected back to her in Stiles’ warm, brown eyes is always artfully applied cherry-red lipstick and perfectly coiffed strawberry-blond curls, even on her worst days. For years she’s wrapped his devotion around her like a favorite oversized sweater, easily hung back in the closet when the weather turns warm.  These days it’s made of tougher, sturdier stuff, things she can’t define, and wears like armor, protecting her heart.  Before tonight, she never worried it might not be enough.

Despite no longer sporting crimson eyes and the title of alpha, Derek Hale storms back into town with self-assured confidence, born of blood and sacrifice and evolution, and wherever Derek goes, Stiles’ eyes follow. It makes Lydia feel bruised, skin rubbed raw, body dragged along the concrete under Roscoe’s tires. 

“You came back for Beacon Hills?” Scott asks, surprise and gratitude coloring his words. 

“No,” Derek answers, “I came back for you.”  Derek and Scott hug, grasp each other’s shoulders, bridge years of miscommunication and misunderstandings in seconds as the pack looks happily on. She’s never related to Peter more than when he breaks up the saccharine reunion with a snide, immature comment.  There's a petulant child inside her too, longing to scream in Derek’s young, handsome face, I had him first.   

She’ll never hang Derek for his family’s tragedy—that yard of rope wraps solely around Kate Argent’s neck, and will hopefully strangle her one day—but Derek’s return to the pack ignites a spark that threatens to burn down Lydia’s whole damn house. It’s devastatingly ironic  Should she laugh, or cry? Or scream.

Inside the vet clinic, she listens with a tight, sardonic smile as Stiles and Derek banter back and forth, weaving the tale of their reunion.  “You convinced the FBI to bring an intern onto an extremely dangerous field operation?” Lydia asks Stiles, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.  

Derek rolls his eyes. “I'm surprised he didn't convince them he could lead it.” The reply is part slight, part praise, just another round of their endless tug-of-war.  Lydia tries not to think about who will fall first. 

“Anyway, long story short,” Stiles gestures toward Derek, “I basically had to, you know, save his life.” 

If you unraveled the story of Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale, the words would span continents, developed in chapters when Lydia was merely a recurring character, spine reinforced, made stronger by years of wear, tear, and repair.  The tale Stiles tells about rescuing Derek is something straight out of a romance novel, the cheesy kind she used to hide under her bed in middle school. While Derek’s version is less flowery, it’s clear they both want to be the hero in each other’s stories.  They always save each other.

Instinctually, she doesn’t want to look too closely at Stiles’ face, illuminated in the surgical light of the exam room, afraid she’ll see the ending clearly written across his features: Lydia, holding a white flag, back against the bullet-riddled wall.

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“I should have let you board that plane to Paris,” Lydia tells Malia, statue face frozen in perpetual terror. “Should have pushed you into the arms of those mysterious French men."       

She’s lost Jackson and Ethan somewhere in the dark, deserted halls of her alma mater, and a monster lurks outside the closed classroom door, turning her friends to stone.  “I love you,” it whispers through the cracks in the wood, between the beats of her heart.  It emanates from a Stiles-shaped space inside her head, but speaks with Derek’s voice. She’s heard the phrase before, directed at her, but never with that desperate, broken edge, so sharp and jagged it shreds her apart from the inside out.  She squeezes her eyes shut, presses palms against her ears, but the words are peppermint-scented, tickling her nose, the exact scent and flavor of Stiles’ toothpaste.  

The ardent whisper of a lover. Now. Darling. Then it changes, a wolf’s growl.  Let me in.

“Fear’s pretty motivating,” Derek words from earlier ring in her ears.  She sees him, strategically positioned next to Stiles, their bodies turned unconsciously toward each other.  It’s burned onto the backs of her eyelids. “Especially when it leads to anger.” 

Lydia never imagined she’d be this afraid, but it doesn’t make her angry.  She’s enraged. 

“You can’t have me,” she tells the Anuk Ite, and thinks of her quiet strength, her loud scream, of bringing an armory full of grown men to their knees.  

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“He’s not healing,” Malia cries, desperate fingers scrabbling over Scott’s bloodstained cheeks. 

“I’m trying.” Scott’s panicked breaths echo around the library. Her stomach heaves. “It’s not working.  I can’t focus.”

Malia cradles his head in her hands.  “Hey.  Hey!  Look at me.  Yes, you can, just concentrate.”    

But he’s not healing, no matter how much Malia begs, and everyone knows what it means.   Stiles looks at Lydia, eyes desperate, unnerved.  Lydia grabs Stiles’ hand, holds on for dear life.  “Malia...Kiss him.” 

Her friend looks back at her, face incredulous.  “What?”

“Kiss him.”

There’s a collective intake of breath when Scott and Malia’s lips part, and Scott’s eyes blink open.  Something exciting burst in her chest, strange and startling, and Stiles squeezes her hand. She looks up into his face, thinking, Love can win.   

But Stiles isn’t looking at Lydia.  As Scott heals, he and Derek stare at each other, faces alive with hope.  This is what you do for me.  

Her fingers slip from Stiles’ bruising grip.

Lydia’s relationships with men have always been complicated.  The end of this one has her feeling curiously sad, like she’s lost something she never even knew she had.  But she’s smart, and even tonight, on the eve of all-out war, Lydia still learns new, hard truths. 

Love is not bulletproof.  And Derek Hale is a smoking gun.