This exchange was a huge success, and we’re really happy that we could do this with all of you. We hope everyone enjoys the trans/ace/aro content, it’s definitely an area in fandom that could use more attention. We really appreciate the enthusiasm and creativity that comes from all of every single person who makes fanworks geared towards our communities! A sincere thank you to everyone who participated.
Happy Valentine’s Day. Happy anti-Valentine’s day. Happy 14th of February!
Sorry for the lack of smut. I didn’t have time to write/type it out, so I made Derek asexual and turned this into a fluff fic so that at least it would get posted ON Valentine’s Day. I hope you still enjoy it.
Pairing: Derek x Lydia (implied qp! derek x isaac, sorry I couldn’t fit it in the actual fic)
Summary: Derek forgets about Valentine’s Day when he makes reservations for the important third date with Lydia, then worries whether she has specific expectations for that date.
The pushy barista is working again. The very sight of her makes Derek wish he’d decided to forego coffee altogether this morning. It’s been a two week long, one-sided flirtation on days when their schedules intersect, which is starting to feel a lot more often. As he drags himself to the counter he’s distracted by her glittery name tag, which declares her to be Jenny ;), and sighs.
“Derek!” she says when he reaches her, like he’s the most exciting person on the planet. Her eyes travel appreciatively – and unsubtly – across his chest and arms before dragging themselves back up to his face. Just like every other morning.
“Medium coffee. Two creams, two sugars,” Derek says. Just like every other morning.
Derek knows what he looks like. He’s known since high school, when he shot up half a foot the summer he started working out with his dad to get in shape for basketball. Suddenly his clothes fit better, his ears didn’t stick out as much, his smile wasn’t too big for his face. Suddenly he was looking in the mirror and liking what he saw. And he wasn’t the only one.
Derek knows what he looks like. He’s the reason for the way he looks - five hours a week in the gym and eating well aren’t for nothing after all. Derek takes pride in his appearance, and there is nothing in the world that is going to compromise that. Not even a pushy barista.
“I’m so glad you dropped by again this morning, it’s the highlight of my day,” Jenny simpers, leaning across the counter and pushing her chest up in a way Derek knows isn’t entirely about posture. She’s a beautiful woman, for all her inability to read body language; for someone else this would probably count as a compliment. Derek suppresses the urge to massage his temples, alleviate the headache building there. He might grunt in response.
Jenny takes it as an encouragement. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? Evening, perhaps?” she asks, scribbling Derek’s name onto the side of the cup – god knows why, since he’s right in front of her and the only customer waiting for a drink order.
“I don’t drink caffeine in the evenings,” he says, reaching for his drink. Jenny twists her wrist at the last second so that their fingers brush. Derek grimaces.
“Thanks,” he says, tipping the cup in her direction, before beating a hasty retreat.
“Bye, Derek,” Jenny calls after him.
—
Boyd and Isaac both give him knowing smirks when Derek slumps onto his chair in their shared office. It’s like they can sense when he’s having a shit day and can’t help but pounce on any opportunity to maximize his suffering.
“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it,” he warns with a scowl. He jabs the power button on his computer, letting the ancient machine’s wheezing cover the loaded silence.
“We wouldn’t dare,” Isaac says, hand over their heart because they can never resist the opportunity to be a sarcastic shit.
Derek pulls his glasses off and lets them drop to his desk, running a hand over his face. “It is too goddamn early for this shit,” he says. Mostly to himself.
“Maybe you should have some of that coffee,” Boyd offers innocently. “Help you wake up.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. “What is wrong with my coffee?”
He spins the cup around in his hands, looking for any signs of damage. It’s unlikely they had time to tamper with it – he’s pretty sure he didn’t leave it out of his sight all day – but there’s a reason why they’re acting cagey. And– oh. It’s not their work at all. On the bottom of the cup, peeking out from under the sleeve, are the last three digits of a phone number and a heart. Which would explain why Isaac and Boyd are making fun of him right now. Well, the comment about tomorrow evening makes a lot more sense, if anything.
“How does this keep happening?” Derek wonders aloud. He realizes it’s the wrong thing to say when Isaac snickers.
“Have you looked at you? If I didn’t know you and I knew you were single, I’d give you my number too,” Isaac remarks. To his credit, Boyd only gives Derek a commiserating smile. Thank you Boyd, Derek thinks at him. Boyd was always his favorite.
To Isaac, he snaps, “But I’m not single.”
Their change in demeanor is immediate. Isaac’s grin drops off their face and Boyd leans forward in interest.
“Really?” Boyd asks with a supportive smile. “You sealed the deal with your lady love?”
Just the mention of Lydia, however vague, makes Derek’s cheeks warm. He’s like a kid with a crush again, and it’s– well, it’s fun. “Not quite yet,” he admits. “But we’re getting there. I made reservations at that new restaurant in town. I’m gonna ask her then.” It’ll be their third date, outside of the regular lunches they weren’t willing to give up when they started dating. Exactly enough time to wait before asking Lydia to turn their casual arrangement into something more serious.
“Atta boy,” Boyd nods in approval. “When are you going?”
“Friday.”
There’s a noticeable pause. Isaac and Boyd exchange looks. “This Friday?” Isaac asks.
“Yes?” Derek doesn’t like the worry in their faces.
Isaac whistles, long and low. “Do you know what day that is?” they ask.
“The thirteenth,” Derek answers immediately. The date has been burning a hole in his google calendar since he made the reservations six days ago. “This isn’t some Friday the Thirteenth bullshit, is it? You two should know better than to believe that shit.”
Boyd rolls his eyes. “It’s the day before Valentine’s Day is what it is,” he informs him.
“You made plans for a romantic dinner right before Valentine’s Day, when you’re gonna ask Lydia to be your girlfriend,” Isaac recounts, even though no one asked them, thank you, Isaac.
“I’m sure it’ll go fine.” At least Boyd tries to be supportive.
Isaac reaches over the scant space between their desks to clap Derek on the shoulder. “Only you, buddy.” Derek’s headache comes back in full force.
Fuck.
—
Lydia’s already there for their scheduled lunch date when Derek shows up almost ten minutes late, just like she is every Wednesday. She must be in a decent mood because when she gives him a peck on the cheek her lips aren’t pursed in her usual tell of annoyance.
No, she just seems happy to see him. Which is pretty gratifying.
“It’s good to see you,” she says, threading their fingers together on the way out to her car. Derek can hear her voice echo back from the first time they did this, chiding, Derek. Lunch dates do not mean takeout in our offices. We’re going to do this right.
On the way to the car Lydia fills him in on her last block of the morning, a 400-level math course that goes straight over Derek’s head whenever she talks about it. But he nods along and provides commentary when he can, just happy to see the fierce pride in her eyes when she talks about her students, whatever the hell they might be doing to earn that look.
It was one of the very first things that drew Derek to Lydia in the first place, that quality in her that inspired an equal mix of terror and awe in everyone who met her. He’d first encountered it a year and a half ago when all five foot three of her stormed into his office, thunder in her eyes, to rip him a new one for “using clear favoritism for the English department to get his classroom assignment switched with hers”. After a few tense minutes that had Derek wanting to crawl under his desk out of sheer terror, Lydia calmed long enough to let Derek explain that he didn’t even know what she was talking about. Lydia left with a new target, Derek left with a lot of respect and healthy fear, and the beginnings of a colossal crush.
In the subsequent year, Derek got to watch as Lydia’s attitude towards him thawed into real affection and mutual respect – a high compliment in anyone’s eyes. Derek learned about her transition just after high school, she learned about his realization that he was asexual. After she accepted his offer to go on a romantic date a few weeks ago, it seems everything’s turning out right for him. Derek is determined to keep the momentum going in a positive direction. He just has to keep cool about this date.
Lunch doesn’t go as easily as the ride over. Somehow they get to the topic of Valentine’s Day, without Derek knowing if he was the one to initiate the change or not. They’re trading V-Day disaster stories, mostly Lydia’s and things Derek’s sisters or friends have shared over the years. There’s only so many variations of I spent it playing Mario Kart with Isaac he can tell before it gets boring. (One. One is that particular cap.)
“Haven’t you had any good Valentines?” Derek finds himself asking, to which Lydia smiles.
“One or two,” she admits, tapping her mouth with one finger. Derek eyes follow the pink manicured nail on its path back and forth.
“Give me your best story,” he prompts, throwing in a smile. Once when Isaac was drunk they called his smile adorable, like if a kitten were a smile. You could move mountains with that smile. It’s a theory Derek likes to test every now and then.
“My best story…” she hesitates, before her eyes light up with mischief. “Well. Since you asked… My last real boyfriend? Didn’t even bother with the romantic dinner and wooing. Just picked me up after class and took me to his apartment for marathon sex. Went down on me for 45 minutes.”
Abruptly Derek’s good mood flies right out the window as his skin prickles uneasily at the thought. He tries to keep the smile on his face as his stomach turns with an unexpected wave of nausea. Lydia almost never talks about sex in anything but vague terms around him – no one has, since he realized he was sex-repulsed. He’s caught off guard by her frankness, is all. The nausea is gone as quickly as it arrives, but the familiar itching under his skin stays.
“It was a few months after I’d gotten the surgery done, and he was pretty eager to make it good for me,” Lydia continues, eyes focused on something Derek can’t see. “It was one of the best presents I’ve ever gotten.” She gives him a conspiratorial smile, like they’re sharing some joke they’re both somehow in on. Derek tries to morph his features into something similar.
Lydia immediately frowns, mouth pulling down into a pout. No dice. “Everything okay, Der?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Derek lies, wipes his mouth on his napkin just for something to do with his hands. “You ready to pay? We should be getting back soon.”
Lydia gives him a long stare. “Sure…” she says, drawing the word out. Her eyes are question marks that she doesn’t put voice to, and the thought of them plagues Derek for the rest of the day.
—
It isn’t until hours later, as he’s shutting down his decrepit, school-sanctioned desktop for the evening, that a thought occurs to Derek.
The best present I’ve ever gotten, Lydia had said. For Valentine’s Day or otherwise she hadn’t been exactly clear, but the meaning of the words was clear. The best present she’d ever received was sex. Incredible sex, apparently. What if she–
Derek’s mind is inundated with flashes of the two of them, together, like that, and he shudders with a mixture of anxiety and horror and revulsion. Bouncing around on top of it all is the question: would she?
Everything in Derek screams that she wouldn’t, she would never… but then the words best present I’ve ever gotten spring back up unbidden in his mind.
“Oh god, what if she’s expecting sex?”
Isaac lifts their head from the text they’d been taking notes on for the past hour, waiting for Derek to be done. “What?”
“Lydia. What if she wants sex? I can’t have sex,” Derek adds pointlessly.
“Is this because of what we said about Valentine’s Day? Boyd and I were just joking, Der.”
“She brought it up,” Derek insists. “The– sex. That she likes it. What if it was a hint?”
Isaac shakes their head. “Lydia’s not the hinting type. You know this. And she knows you don’t do sex. She knew before you two started going out.” They walk behind Derek’s desk and wrap an arm around his shoulders. Derek leans into the touch, practically collapses into it, burying his face into their chest.
“Talk to her tomorrow,” Isaac suggests, squeezing the extra bit tighter. “Promise me. She’ll tell you everything I am.”
Derek takes a deep breath, lets himself be grounded by Isaac’s arms around his shoulders. At a gentle shake, he nods, bringing his face more or less into their armpit.
“Fine, I will,” he promises, then groans when he gets an unfortunate whiff. “You stink.”
Isaac laughs, shoves Derek. “All the more reason to go home.”
—
Derek skips coffee the next morning, too frazzled and nervous to deal with Jenny before he figures out where to find Lydia. No one deserves that, honestly.
He’s already thinking ahead to finding Lydia and figuring out what to say to her when he stops by his office to drop off his briefcase and coat. It’s a testament to his distraction that he doesn’t even notice Lydia leaning against Boyd’s desk until she clears her throat.
Derek nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Christ, Lydia. You scared the hell out of me!”
“Bad time?” Lydia asks, but there’s something sharp to her tone, a stiffness in the way she holds herself. Her arms are crossed, the skin dimpled under her fingers from where they’re digging in.
“Of course not,” Derek answers, voice coming out scratchy. He clears his throat and continues, “I was actually hoping to talk to you too.”
“Wonderful.” Lydia walks past Derek to the office door, shuts them in with a final-sounding click. She leans against the door. “Do you want to date me, Derek? In a serious way?” It’s a complete 180 from what he expected, and it still feels bizarre coming out of her mouth when it’s set in anger.
“Yes.” So much.
“I want to date you too.” The relief hits him like a gut punch, elation followed quickly by confusion and suspicion when the news only appears to make Lydia sadder.
“Great,” Derek says anyway, but means what is going on?
Lydia shakes her head. “Not great, Derek. Because I can’t date someone who isn’t okay with me– all of me. As I am.”
And Derek… has no idea what to do with that. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I saw your face yesterday, Derek. After I brought up my surgery. You looked sick.” Which. What?
“Why should I care about your surgery?”
Lydia’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, but not in anger. More in the way that she does when she’s trying to solve an equation. “If that didn’t make you uncomfortable, then why did you look like you want to bolt at lunch yesterday?”
Heat flames his face. “It was the sex stuff,” he explains. “The– descriptions. It’s usually not a problem. But. It caught me off guard. I’m sorry.”
Lydia holds his gaze for a long second, then sags against the door. She’s smiling for the first time Derek’s seen today.
“Just to be clear–” she says, holding up a finger. “You don’t care about the surgery?”
Derek sags a little bit too with the pure relief of knowing his answer. “Absolutely not. You don’t expect us to have sex on our next date?”
Lydia shakes her head firmly. “Absolutely not,” she echoes. “Still want to make this official?”
In the Delgado family, the women inherit the earth magic and use their magic to cater to the supernatural community of Beacon Hills. It had been that way for hundreds of years, the magic shop passed from the hands of one Delgado woman to the next. Until Scott, who inherits the magic despite having an identity that's both female and male. When they take over for their mom, they fit right into place regardless; providing herbs and spells and exorcisms and whatever else the creatures of the night need.
Their third year running the shop, they meet a ghoul named Stiles. They exchange small talk whenever Stiles picks up his meat (outsourced from the local mortuary), and Stiles drags them into more trouble than Scott thought they could handle. Including pranking the local vampire cult, accidentally cursing Jackson into 3 days of full kanima shift, and getting arrested trying to artificially create zombie bunnies.
Stiles doesn’t really do the whole significant other thing, but he still kisses Scott sweetly under a full moon on Valentine’s Day, and Scott knows that they’ll figure it out.
Or, the AU in which Scott is a bigender witch, Stiles is an aromantic ghoul, and their queerplatonic relationship is to die for.
Trans/Ace/Aro Characters: trans!Lydia, agender!Malia, neither character is explicitly written as ace or aro, but there’s nothing sexual or overly romantic mentioned, so they could be.
Lydia fell backwards onto her bed. “I’m exhausted,” she said.
“Sammme,” Malia replied, elongating the word to show just how much they meant it.
“It’s good we unloaded everything right away, but wow. That was so many stairs.”
Malia looked around at the newly furnished apartment. They were proud that everything was in place, including the mattress, which almost didn’t fit through the door. They plopped down right next to their girlfriend.
“I’m so ready to break in this bed,” Lydia said.
“Why would we break the Bed?”
“I didn’t mean it literally. Cuddle with me and we can fall asleep here.”
“You’re sure the bed is sturdy?”
Lydia giggled and pulled Malia closer. “It’s sturdy, babe. Don’t worry.” Her eyes were closed at this point, so Malia followed suit. Malia kicked off their shoes and settled in as the little spoon.
The two of them slept peacefully, finally comfortable, together, truly safe. No one was there telling Malia that they were faking being agender for attention, or intentionally using the wrong pronouns. No one was yelling at Lydia for using the women’s restroom, or calling her a “man in drag”. None of that could touch them here.
When Lydia woke up and rubbed her eyes, accidentally smudging the makeup she had left on before falling asleep. She rolled over and noticed that Malia had already gotten up.
Lydia got up and left the bedroom. On her left was the bathroom, but there was a sign taped up on the door that definitely was not there when they signed the lease on the apartment. It said ALL GENDERS RESTROOM, using multiple different colors.
“What’s that for?” Lydia asked Malia, who she saw across the room digging through a cardboard box.
Without looking up, Malia replied. “No more bathroom conflicts. This bathroom is for anyone. Well, it’s for the two of us plus any people we invite over, so not really everyone. But that’s as inclusive as I’m willing to go”
“Hm,” Lydia said. “I like it.” Then she paused for a minute, finally noticing what Malia was doing. “What are you looking for?”
“Cooking things”
“First of all,” Lydia said. “They’re in that box.” She pointed to a box labeled kitchen. “Second of all, we don’t have any food yet.
“Oh yeah.” Malia laughed.
“I’ll order us a pizza for dinner and go grocery shopping tomorrow morning.”
“You’re the best, Lyd”
“I know.” Lydia smirked.
Malia was used to living alone, sure. They had been on their own for years as a coyote, but never in a domestic setting. Then when they went back to live with their father, he took care of everything. They weren’t used to things like stocking the refrigerator, but they knew they’d have to adjust, and pull their weight eventually. They started by unpacking the kitchen supplies into the kitchen drawers, with some help from Lydia.
Even with all the adjustments, they were both happy to be living together. They were finally home.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Maëlle! I hope your day is as sweet as you are :D
Just Your Garden Variety Wix
a peek into the lives of Beacon Hill’s coven of queer garden witches
Cast of Characters:
Kira Yukimura: demigirl, the peace keeper. Kira is strong-willed, lion-hearted, and loves with everything inside of her. She balances the constant burn of the fox fire inside of her with the cool, slowness of water.
Lydia Martin: transfeminine, aromantic, the hearth. Lydia does most of her magic sitting at the coffee table in front of the fireplace, studies the runes that keep her coven safe, never gets cold, and never burns her cookies. She and Derek joined the coven together, sleep together, room together, and they are her reminder that there is softness in all things.
Derek Hale: agender, demiromantic, the scholar and the healer. Derek loves not just books, but the knowledge that inspired them. They study old tomes for the best remedies, spend countless hours tucked away in their library, their partner Allison their only visitor for days at a time.
Allison Argent: pangender, the spirit. Allison likes astral projection, fae enjoy being free, open, out, alive. Fae like to dance in the rain and sing at the top of faer lungs while floating along on the breeze of the wind from treetop to treetop, knowing that Derek, faer rock, will always be there to ground faer.
Malia Tate: agender, aromantic, asexual, the protector of the coven. Malia loves bare feet, Kira, the garden, and the coven that loves and embraces Malia as a part of what they call home. Malia’s magic is sewn from the earth, allows Malia to communicate with those things that normally are without voice.
The first day of spring is a busy day for the house, when it finally starts. For Kira, the day begins just as dawn is breaking into her room, when the first rays of sunshine make Malia roll over and snuggle deeper into the pillow, away from the sunlight for a few more hours. Kira can feel the insistent pulse of spring in her body. It permeates the air, makes it taste sweet like budding dew drops. When Kira can pull herself away from the sleep-softened angles of Malia’s face and the warmth of Malia’s body under the heap of blankets, she throws on clothes and heads out into the early morning.
Most of Kira’s day is spent in or near the lake on the back of the Hale-Tate property. The white-hot energy that boils inside of her is calm there, listening to the water lick at the lake bed, the sound of the wind rippling the water. First things first. Kira sweeps the lake for trash, spends her morning swimming every inch of the water to make sure that it’s clean. It’s the same water that the house uses in spells and rituals, the same water that they bless and give to others. It’s a long day, a tiring day, but Kira can think of nothing better than sating the white hot fox fire inside of her by spending the day pouring love and purity into the water around her. By the time Kira pulls herself out of the water, it’s well after noon, and Kira lets the sun dry her off, half-dozing with her fingertips skimming the surface of the water until the crisp air of dusk wakes her again. Lydia usually comes around then, and the two of them make small, easy talk until Lydia heads off on the rest of her day, and Kira heads back to the house to start dinner.
Lydia does the front room and dining room and shop front. She’s also in charge of cleaning out their store of dried herbs and the magical pantry and cauldrons etc. She’s got a sharper sense of purification magic, and she knows how to organize and arrange things to suit everyone’s fancy. Plus, Allison fell into and got stuck in one of Lydia’s cauldrons once, so now nobody is allowed to clean them except for her. If she finishes early, she goes out to help Kira clean the lake and take up new water to bless. Then, Lydia’s route takes her to the shed to collect whatever Derek has put together in the basket for her. From there, she checks to make sure that all the runes are still in place, keeping their land protected, and meets Malia wherever Malia ends up on their property line. Malia holds the water to be blessed and Lydia carries the herbs and things, and they head inside to see what Kira’s preparing for dinner.
Allison and Derek dust and vacuum and sweep up, because Allison needs someone around who can ground faer when fae inevitably stop working to examine whatever knick-knacks fae just found under the bed or next to the curtains or behind the couch. Derek is a wall, a very patient wall. They herd Allison around the house, stopping to press little kisses and words of encouragement across faer hairline while they point out other things that need to be done. Allison is easily distracted, but easily refocused, and their energy works well together. They clean the kitchen and bedrooms and bathrooms
Once the house is clean, Derek leaves Allison to cleanse the house with sage and other smudge sticks while they head outside to tend to the grass and the land. Derek is in charge of raking the leaves, keeping the field clean, and gathering herbs and things from the drying shed to go into the pantry. Derek takes their time with this part, enjoys the tenderness of being able to twine together their own smudge sticks from the old tomes that are out in the shed. They take care to finish gathering everything, then leave it in the shed until Lydia comes to get them and put them away.
Malia is already by the cottage as Derek makes their way out to the back fields, pulling weeds and tending to the garden. Malia has a bug repellent that was hand-crafted by Malia for Malia’s garden, and Malia is the only one allowed to use it. It sits on Malia’s left side in a spray bottle that Malia picks up periodically, spraying once or twice and waiting for that simmering of the feel of magic use tugging in Malia’s chest. Derek steers clear of Malia while Malia works. Malia’s energy and magic is strong and powerful, but it’s also a little unwieldy, especially when Malia gets excited. And Malia is always finding things to be excited about. Malia visits with the coyote that protects their land at the end of a cleaning and blessing day. Malia brings it food and sits with it, and the coyote usually lays with its head on Malia’s stomach for a little bit, and they communicate like that, sharing one spirit until Lydia comes to collect Malia for dinner.
for @nevergooutofstiles , from your secret admirer braedens. <3
enjoy some mchaleinski (trans!stiles, non!binary scott and asexual!Derek) + malira (aromantic!malia)
“Hey, do you know where my hormone pack is?”
Stiles is currently rummaging around his sock drawer, where he usually hides it behind the abundance of holiday socks he has (shut up, he likes Christmas, okay?).
Derek pads in from the bathroom, a towel in his hand as he ruffles it on his wet hair, drying it off. He moves over to the dresser where Stiles is frantically searching, and he reaches out with a free hand to still Stiles’.
“Scott filled your prescription this morning, it’s probably in the kitchen,” he mumbles, and leans in to press his lips briefly to the side of Stiles’ head.
Stiles can’t help but lean into it with a hum, closing the drawer in front of him. “Where is that cutie, anyway?
Derek’s head jerks out of the bedroom door. “I think they’re talking to Kira in the living room.”
Stiles makes his way to the kitchen, smiling widely when he sees Kira chatting with Scott. They’re laughing, and Stiles takes the second to enjoy how their smile spreads so wide and how their shoulders shake.
God, he can never get enough of them.
“Hey, Stiles!” Kira perks from the couch, bright smile plastered for him, which he can’t help but return. He finds his hormone pack on the counter near the coffee maker, and grabs it as he makes his way to join them. “Kira, hey. What were you guys talking about?” he asks, plopping himself down next to Scott, who’s hand instinctively moves to Stiles’ knee.
Scott and Kira share a incredibly secretive look, and rude, Stiles will not tolerate this in his house.
“What, what?” he presses, looking between Kira and Scott frantically. If there’s anything he hates more, it’s being left out. Derek and Scott have learned that the hard way for the past three years.
“Just Valentines’ stuff,” Kira dismays with a wave of her hand, and, oh, okay.
“Never mind don’t tell me!” Stiles exclaims, making a show of covering his ears. “I want to thoroughly surprised.”
At that, Derek walks in, towel around his neck, and he moves to pat on Kira’s shoulder before sitting in the armchair.
As they exchange greetings, Stiles nudges the pack in his hand into Scott’s side, and he exchanges a small smile. They return it, taking the pack in their hands.
Alright, Stiles is afraid of needles. Ever since he was a kid, really. His dad would have to trick him into going to the doctor. But Scott, their mom is a nurse, so when Stiles was told he had to start hormone therapy after his surgery, let’s just say he was incredibly grateful Derek had held his hand, and Scott had promised to do his shots for him, everyday. (And, no, he didn’t cry, he just… had a rock in his eye.)
“So, Kira,” Stiles starts, trying to calm his nerves as Scott fills the syringe. “What are you doing for Malia?”
Her brows furrow. “What do you mean?” she draws out, eyes moving between the group.
And, huh, Stiles wasn’t expecting that reaction.
“For Valentines’ day,” he corrects.
And Kira’s eyes go wide, and she frantically shakes her head. “Why would I do something?”
Stiles and Scott share a look, hopefully on the same wavelength from what Stiles can tell.
“Because you’re dating her?” Derek asks tentatively, like he is somehow unsure. Which, to be fair, Kira seems pretty out of the loop on this, too.
Kira opens her mouth, and then closes it. And then opens it again. “We’re not dating!”
“Are you sure?” Stiles asks. “You guys have been so close for years.”
“You guys live together,” Scott adds.
“And you hold her hand sometimes,” Derek says, not even bothering to look up from the book that has miraculously shown up in his hands.
Kira’s mouth gapes now, like she’s trying to wrap her head around everything. “You guys thought we were dating this entire time?” she ponders, her ears turning pink. “But, but, Malia is aro!”
Scott just shrugs. “So? Lots of aromantic people are in relationships. Actually, it’s pretty common for them to want things like relationships, exclusivity, monogamy, whatever. She just might not be romantically attracted to you. But she definitely loves you.”
It’s quiet, Kira staring at the sofa cushion.
“I have to go!” she darts up from the couch suddenly, and scoops up her belongings before she pushes out their front door without so much as a goodbye.
The three of them instantly break out into laughter at how Kira that situation was.
“I can’t believe she didn’t even know they were dating,” Derek chuckles, eyes moving back to his copy of Wuthering Heights.
“Okay,” Scott insists, moving to face Stiles, syringe in their hand. “Ready?”
Stiles nods. “Fuck, I hate this.” he mutters, pulling up the pant leg of his basketball shorts. He’s watching, eyes glued to his thigh, and waiting for Scott to just get it over with.
“Eyes on me,” Scott coos, tipping Stiles’ head up so their eyes meet. And suddenly Stiles feels their cool hands on his thigh, and he winces, but he doesn’t break eye contact.
Scott nods once, as if asking for permission, and before Stiles can nod back, they’re sticking the needle in, and there’s a sharp hiss that escapes Stiles’ clenched teeth.
And suddenly, Scott’s lips are pressed to his, warm and filling him with warmth and joy. Honestly, he should have seen it coming, Scott’s go-to move to calm him down is to kiss his thoughts away.
And it works again, because by the time Scott pulls away, Stiles’ chasing their lips, the needle is out of his leg.
He can feel the cool liquid through his leg, and suddenly he’s exhausted, barely registering the kiss Scott presses to his cheek.
—–
Malia comes home after work, slamming the door to their apartment a bit too harshly. She feels aggravated, mostly because the dogs at the shelter were incredibly rowdy when they brought in some new animals. The excessive whines and barking rendered her with a headache by the time her shift was over.
She’s mentally planning a night consisting of a shower, Advil, and their bed, when she stops short in the kitchenette.
Because Kira is standing across from her, candles lit around the vicinity, and holds out a large bouquet of lilac flowers.
“Are we dating?” she spills, and Malia’s eyes go wide.
“Dating?”
Kira just nods.
“Well, uh. I don’t know,” Malia admits, dropping her bag onto the floor by the wall. “I didn’t know how you wanted to label us. Or if you even wanted to.”
And she catches a smallest hint of a smile from Kira. “I want to. Label us, that is.”
But Malia doesn’t look relieved; not by how she crosses her arms. “Kira,” she sighs, “I can’t give you everything cute relationship have. I’m not into you romantically, and I’m not going to.”
And Kira just shrugs, smile still bright as she steps forward. She holds out the flowers to Malia, who carefully takes them into her own hands.
“I know, Malia. I just want you. In any way you’re okay with. Especially if we can just keep being who we are now.”
And Malia doesn’t care, she tosses the flowers onto the counter to pull Kira close to her, enveloping her in a hug, warm and tight, and it feels so pure and happy to Kira.
“Then, yeah, we’re dating.” Malia mumbles into her hair.
Pairing: malia x kira
Trans/Aro/Ace Characters: nonbinary!malia, asexual!kira
“I mean, it’s not like gender is real.” Kira says over the phone, and Malia’s eyes immediately perk up.
“It’s, like, a social construct created to divide us, or something like that. Anyways, the point is if you don’t feel like a boy or a girl then that’s totally normal.”
Malia hasn’t said anything, but Kira feels like she can hear the coyote smiling.
Later that night, Kira shows up at the Tate house with folders full of notes on gender identity and expression, completed with visuals and links to informational videos.
“It’s all a spectrum, like the ones I showed you about sexuality. You may not feel any gender, like how I don’t feel any sexual attraction.” Kira explains, and Malia nods along excitedly.
The two spend all night looking through lists of identities and pronouns, until Malia comes across libragender and breaks into a wide smile.
Kira spends the following days helping Malia try out different sets of pronouns, starting with xe/xem/xyr one day, moving onto ze/zir/zirself the next, until finally Malia feels good with sie/hir/hirself.
Kira helps Malia experiment with hir body, from cutting and dying hir hair, to shopping for new clothes Malia feels comfortable in (which Lydia is ecstatic about).
Late one night, when Kira and Malia are up late studying for an exam, Malia takes Kira’s hand in hirs, rubbing small circles into Kira’s palm.
“Thanks for this,” Malia says, placing a soft kiss to Kira’s shoulder. “for helping me find myself.”
Hey Kuri! I tried to use the detailed Scilira prompt you gave me, but you wanted fluff and I kept making it angsty, so I went another road. I hope you like it!
gift for @laurawithoutsound from @the-knitter-soldier
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Warnings: none
Trans/Aro/Ace Characters: genderqueer!Derek, trans male!Stiles
(also not specifically stated but I am headcanoning Scott and Kira in the world’s effing cutest queerplatonic relationship for this story)
[also on AO3]
Derek pressed their face to the tree trunk and inhaled. Most of the pack had been through this particular clearing at some point during today’s LARPing excursion, but there was a different smell in addition to those, something softer overlaying Lydia’s chemical perfume, Scott’s grassy musk, the acrid-sweet tang of Stiles’ T. They sniffed shallowly a few more times, getting a a bead on the new smell, and turned to follow it out of the little glade.
Normally a new smell in the Preserve would stand their hair up, put them on edge, but there was something—different about this scent. Something light, something intriguing, something that pulled them in and made their mouth dry, their heart pound. They wanted to know who was giving it off, and more than that, they wanted to know why.
They followed the narrow game trail on bare feet—they’d been more than a little nervous when they’d announced the paladin they’d be playing would be female, actually; no one had blinked an eye, but now they were a bit chagrined that neither had anyone bothered to point out that a day-long traipse in the woods might not be the best time to wear heels out of the house for the first time—more intent on tracking the smell and staying silent than looking around.
Which was, of course, how they ended up bumping, literally, into Stiles.
Stiles, who was of course playing a rogue and setting up something… complicated looking where the game trail crossed a normal walking path.
“Oh, heyyy, De—excuse me, Lyassa. A fine day for a walk, wouldn’t you say? Just a—”
Derek took a step closer. “Sti—er, Marwyrd, what are you doing?”
“Oh, um, nothing really. Just a little… you know, we should probably go back the way you came real fast.”
Derek opened their mouth to ask why, but Stiles just glared and shooed them back down the path, just in time to duck behind some underbrush and watch Scott and Kira—er, Searos and Janaaga—come down the wider trail and fall like dominoes, Janaaga landing on Searos with a loud “Oof!”
Stiles laughed with his whole body, muffling his noises behind his hands as he shook with glee. Derek moved to grab the branches rustling around him, hoping to quiet the tell-tale noises before Scott could pinpoint where they were.
The move put them right in Stiles’ space, their arm crossing over Stiles’ shoulder, and the smell hit them like a brick.
They sniffed, delicately. In the corner of their eye, they saw Scott and Kira get up, brush themselves off, and walk away, bumping shoulders companionably, but they didn’t have the focus to concentrate on anything but the smell wafting off Stiles’ skin.
Sweet, but not sugary. Like fresh bread, almost, or a wide lawn heating under the summer sun—
“Uh, Derek?” Stiles squirmed beside them. “You’re sniffing me?”
“You smell really good.” Derek inhaled again, deep and long, nose just inches from Stiles’ throat. “Wait. Was that to—do you want me to stop?”
Stiles squirmed again and stood up; another scent entered Derek’s nose. Thick. Salty. “No, I, um, it’s fine. I like it.”
Derek stood too, flicked their eyes away from the sweat gathering on Stiles’ collarbone to his eyes. “You’re getting aroused.”
“Ugh, way to make it sound clinical.”
“I like it. I want to kiss you.”
“Firstly, yes, but secondly, where did this come from?”
“You smell good today. So good. So glad. And…” Derek trailed off, not sure how to put it in words. “It’s not, you know, if I thought anyone in the pack would be cool with the, the skirt thing,” Derek’s hand flopped at their clothes, “it would be you obviously, but I just—it’s good to know.”
“That I still think you’re hot as hell no matter what you wear. Yeah, dude—shit. This is, like, not just a costume for today, huh? You want me to stop calling you dude and stuff? You want a different pronoun?”
“Stiles, I’ve wanted you to stop calling me dude the entire time I’ve known you. But pronouns… ‘they’ would be good, I think. I haven’t really had a chance to try different ones out.”
“I can do ‘they,’ no problem. Just let me know if you’d like something else. Do you want me to tell the pack?”
Derek grinned, wide and relieved. “That would be really sweet of you, actually. I think they’ll be okay, but…”
“Yeah, I get that,” Stiles laughed. “Maybe Lydia can take you shopping or something; I think she’s still a little cranky I won’t go with her anymore.”
Derek smiled, a little shy, and looked down at their clothes. Green skirt that fell right to their knees (“so it won’t get caught on anything,” Lydia had decreed), blousy shirt that billowed over their torso, disguising the hard lines of their shoulders, long leather tunic that laced snugly around their waist, giving them a bit of hips. “She helped me with these, actually.”
“Yeah, uh-huh. Clothes, very interesting. So about that kissing. Is that still on the table?”
Derek couldn’t be annoyed about Stiles’ flip brush-off, not when they saw the way the boy’s eyes skated up and down their body. They put their back to the tree and hooked their fingers on his wide belt, pulling him in, “Still on the table, yeah.”
Stiles was a little too excited to be anything but clumsy, but they didn’t mind. Thought it was endearing, even, the way Stiles’ breath caught in his throat as he pushed them into the tree and nipped lightly at their bottom lip, one long kiss melting into the next until he pulled back and whispered hoarsely, “Just kissing or?”
“Or what?”
“Or orgasms? I’m so fucking wet—”
Derek tapped his nose, preening just a little. “I know.”
“And?”
“And I don’t know if I’m comfortable stripping down right here, but yeah, I want to get off. Almost as much as I want to know what you look like, what you smell like—”
“Fuck, Der, you can’t just say that shit!” Stiles complained as he slotted one of their thighs between both of his and started a slow, filthy grind.
“Why not?”
“You can smell why not!”
Derek just smiled and nosed behind Stiles’ ear, where the scent was strongest, and grabbed Stiles’ hips, pulling this way and that until they had the friction they needed—and, by the sounds of it, Stiles did too. “This good? This gonna do it for you?”
“A little too fast, maybe, but yeah, it’ll do it.”
“Well, I mean.” Derek swallowed past their nerves and started again. “You know I don’t think of you as anything but a boy, but—you can come more than once, can’t you?”
He didn’t say anything, just grinned, wide and dirty and impish, eyes sparkling.
“That’s what I thought. And I, I want you to get off. A lot.”
“Wouldn’t worry about that, d—buddy. Now what can I do for you?”
Derek licked up the side of Stiles’ neck, closed their blunt teeth over the lobe of his ear and tugged before letting go to whisper, “Come for me. Let me smell you.” They watched, transfixed and a maybe a little smug, as Stiles’ pupils got visibly bigger at that and his hips bucked forward, hard. “Yes, that’s so fucking hot, c’mon, Stiles, do it, do it, use me, get yourself off…” They were hard, painful almost under their clothes as Stiles’ rhythm stuttered and they got only brief flashes of the friction they needed to come, but it seemed distant next to the immediacy of Stiles’ obvious need and pleasure, his responsive body and cut-off mewls.
Stiles froze, mouth open, eyes wide, breath stopped. He could have been a movie on pause except for the smell of his orgasm filling Derek’s nostrils.
“Yeah, yes, that’s so perfect—” The rest of Derek’s words faded into unintelligibility as they pulled Stiles closer, shoved their nose roughly against the base of his throat.
Then Stiles shifted his weight, got Derek lined up between his strong thighs, started moving again, a merciless undulation that drew their voice out of them in a long whine, a wordless plea. The moment stretched on, messy panting kisses, Derek’s fumbling hands shoving their tunic out of the way, and then—then Stiles’ wetness soaking through their skirt onto their leg, their—
Derek clamped their hands around Stiles’ hips and came hard, eyes squeezed shut, keening and overcome.
They lost track of time, then, but when their eyes finally reopened, Stiles was smiling fondly down at them, looking shy for once. Derek’s hips gave another small twitch at that, at Stiles’ openness. They knew what a gift that vulnerability was.
“If we do this again, you know, if you’re into it, I really want to go down on you, Derek. Want to taste—”
Derek’s head flopped heavily against the tree they were pinned against. “You can’t just say that shit, Stiles.”
“You sure about that?”
5 Times Scott McCall Celebrated Anti-Valentine’s Day and 1 Time He Failed Miserably
gift for @queerlyalex from @machtaholic
Rating: Teen and Up
Pairing: Scott & Stiles (friendship), Scott & Allison (friendship), Scott & Kira (friendship), Scott & Malia (friendship), Scott & Derek (friendship), Scott x Lydia
Werewolves, banshees, kitsunes, hunters, Scott knew all about them more than he wished he did. It had already been more than ten years that he had been bitten and turned into a werewolf himself, so, of course, all of these legends come true were nothing new to him. But when his friend Kira came to tell him Deaton wanted him to test his time travel machine, Scott felt like this was too much.
“Time travel?! This can’t exist. Nope. You’re kidding me, right?!”
Kira seemed entirely serious, though. Scott followed them to Deaton’s veterinary clinic, still puzzled by what they had just told him.
Deaton was working on a strange chair wired to many computers when Scott entered his clinic.
“What is this? Is this a prank?”
Deaton only smiled and took his hand to sit him on that weird-looking chair.
“Scott. Something that I never told you is that time travel exists. It was unnecessary at the time, but now… I have a machine to do it. Finally! All the other Druids already have one, how frustrated have I been for years…”
“Time travel? But how?” Scott asked.
“Well, time is not how we believe it is. It repeats itself, again and again. As we are talking, a young you is being bitten. Another one is graduating from high school, or from college… However, in some versions, there can be differences. In one, you can be friend with a Malia coming from Sri Lanka, or maybe you never met Kira… We can’t really predict if it’ll be the same or not.”
This was too much to process for Scott. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Kira, next to him, appeared calm and confident.
“You knew it, Kira?”
“Sure! Deaton had explained it to me a long time ago, when I was having an identity crisis over the fact that… um… I’ll live for a thousand years or so, you know,” they said.
Scott felt as if he had been left-out for a very long time. It wasn’t exciting at all, in fact, it was terrifying.
“And why do you want me to test it? Why not Kira, or you?”
“Well, I’m too old for this I believe, and kitsunes’ powers prevent them from time traveling. They live for so long.”
“Come on, Scott, this could be fun!” Kira told him.
What did he have to lose? “Why not… and when would I go?”
“That’s important, indeed. Can’t you remember something you once did that you wished at least one version of you wouldn’t live it? Maybe being bitten…”
Scott tried to think about it. Something appeared to him right away, and he knew he’d choose this one. It was when he was sixteen, before he had been bitten. He had had a date with Stiles. Scott had been extremely nervous about it, as he had wanted to come out to his best friend on that day. Great idea, of course. If he was to date Stiles, he would have felt better explaining to him that he was nonbinary. Except that, terrified, he had left when Stiles had gone to the bathroom, and he had never had the courage to explain it to him. While they were still best friends, and Scott was now out to him, he regretted it deeply. What would their relationship be like now? Would he still be with Allison? Or, instead, would his relationship with Stiles have lasted for all these years? He had accepted it, sure, and was in love with Allison and extremely glad that Stiles was dating such a great person like Malia. However, if at least in one version of his life, he could change that and see what would happen… He had to do it.
“I have an idea, yes. Bring me back to February 14, 2010.”
And in less time than he needed to say it, he felt his body get caught by a mysterious force, and a second later, he was on the doorstep of his childhood house.
He felt dizzy, disoriented, and his stomach had barely handled the shock. However, he had no time. He had to get up and hide, in case someone recognized him, or at least found him way too similar to younger Scott! What would he do? Say he’s a cousin? And –
No. No-one would consider him as similar looking to 2010 Scott McCall, as, at the time, Scott was called Bianca McCall, and didn’t have that much in common with his looks now. Between his coming out and the age he was now, he had decided to change names, to grow a beard, and if for him, it had only been small changes to feel more adequate with how he felt, to be less attached to one specific gender, his friends had been amazed by how different he looked. Glad of this thought, he jumped to his old bedroom window with his werewolf strength, and glanced inside. As it was empty, he opened it and entered.
Memories overwhelmed Scott in a second. Everything was like he could remember it, and much more. He was shocked to realize he had forgotten all of those bands he used to have small pictures of on his desk, as he was too scared to hang them on his wall, or that small collection of lacrosse balls.
Too caught up in his memories, none of his werewolf senses caught the smell of someone entering. Or maybe it was so similar to his, he could never have differentiated it. However, when he turned around, a small brown-haired girl (or rather, person whose body didn’t reflect who he was) was standing on the doorstep. This younger version of himself was staring at him in horror, apparently unable to move.
Present Scott wanted to explain everything to his younger self, no matter how crazy the story was, to promise him he was not in danger, to present him his plan for his date. But the vision of a younger him had caught him off guards. Yes, he still had some pictures of himself before his coming out, and he had a certain fondness for them, like everyone tends to have for their younger, lacking-of-style selves. He had come to peace with his younger body, and did not hate it anymore (mostly because it was also his pre-werewolf body, so nostalgia was strong). However, seeing it in reality, in front of him… His throat ached, his heart hurt, his eyes watered instantly. He could remember every step he had lived between him then and now, and couldn’t not empathize with young Scott.
“Listen…” he finally said, as the younger version of himself had not ran away in shock. Maybe he had recognized his own eyes, his own way of behaving.
“I’m you from the future.”
“Excuse me?” he answered, and his gaze was apparently looking for his bat. After all those years, Scott still wasn’t the best one with words.
“Scott!”
The name froze him again. Scott knew this was when he had chosen that name for himself, even though he hadn’t told anyone yet. He remembered having looked up many names, tried those who could be both for girls and boys, and finally preferred this one, for an unknown reason.
“Scott, in the future, this is what you look like. No-one calls you Bianca anymore. They get it, you know? How you feel? And they love you for who you are.”
Each word was enough for young Scott’s eyes to widen more and more. There was even a little smile on his lips.
“Come on, Scott, believe me. I’m even here to help.”
“Help for what?” he asked, and he was clearly torn between excitement and suspicion.
“Your Valentine’s date with Stiles. It’s today, right? Well, when I was your age, I messed up this date. I wanted to come out to Stiles, and I freaked out and left… I don’t want you to make this mistake.”
And this was enough for his younger self to completely trust him. Was his failure really so predictable?
Their plan was easy: younger Scott would go to his date, while older Scott would be sitting a few tables away from them. Thanks to some earpiece, older Scott would be able to listen to everything said and give younger one (code name: Scotty) advice. It sure was about calming him down, and dealing with dysphoria if necessary, but maybe also about being smoother than his younger self was. He sat down and waited. He had wanted to come early. Nervousness was twisting his stomach as if the was the one on the date. For years, he had replayed it again and again in his head. What if I had done this, said that… What if I had been braver?
Eventually, Stiles showed up. As Scotty was waiting for him outside, they entered together. Their faces showed the exact same nervousness as his, and Scott couldn’t help smiling to this. Stiles looked so young… All of this felt unreal.
They sat down, and Scott turned the communication device on.
“Do you think this place is fine? My father told me it was a great place, but I’m not sure, plus with Valentine’s Day, there will be so many people…”
“No, it’s great!” He paused.
“Say it, don’t worry!” older Scott told him.
“I’m very glad to be with you, Stiles.”
If his younger self’s human ears heard nothing, Scott caught Stiles’ gasp of surprise and his heartbeat rising. He really was into me.
They were given the menu, and both of them thrown themselves into its reading.
“It’s okay, Scotty. He’s super into you. Why don’t you ask him to share a Valentine’s Day special starter?”
His younger self blushed so hard he saw it from two tables away. It took him a minute or so, but he eventually suggested it. Stiles sounded delighted by the idea of eating one more meal.
After they ordered, Scott told Scotty to multiply eye contact. “His eyes are not going to blind you!”
And so he did. Their conversation was a best friends’ one, about school, video games, and going to the cinema the week after. Each of Scotty’s loving gazes (unable to hide his feelings) made Stiles’ heart beat harder, and for someone usually so chatty, he would regularly lose his words. Just by looking at these two idiots was enough to make his mind wander about the times he was in love with Stiles. It was something so old, it might have felt bizarre, but it was also evident. He was now totally in love with Allison, but he had thought for a long time that Stiles and he were meant to be.
If only he had not ran away.
Their first course came. Scotty thanked their waitress with his soft, sixteen-year-old voice, and she told Stiles:
“What a lovely girlfriend you have!”
Both Stiles and Scott’s hearts missed a beat at the exact same time, but the reasons were different. One was overwhelmed by the idea of them being a couple, and the other appalled by having been misgendered.
“No, no, Scotty, don’t worry! Don’t feel sad about that! It’s not your fault! You are an amazing nonbinary person, no matter what other people assume. Don’t blame yourself, okay? Today is the first step towards being seen as nonbinary by everyone.”
It took time, but Scotty’s breath eventually slowed down. He glanced at his older self with apprehension, but also thankfulness, Scott could tell.
The date went on, and gradually, the conversation was softer, more intimate. With Scott’s advice, the younger version of himself got more confident, bolder too.
“You are gorgeous tonight”, he said, “I can’t believe it’s for me.”
They were complimenting each other, it was an adorable and innocent children game. It was their first date together, but also their first date, period, and you could easily tell. While Stiles tried more than once to tease Scotty and be playful, his oblivious date either blushed and didn’t answer, or stared in confusion.
Had he really been like that?!
While waiting for desert, Scott decided to give one more advice. “Hold his hand. Come on.”
Scotty nearly choked on his glass of water. He coughed a few times, Stiles asked him if he was okay, but just seconds later, he did it. Stiles didn’t take it back – in fact, Scott could practically have heard him melt.
“’I’m so lucky to have you, Bianca”, Stiles said. The date was nearly over, they only had a few bites left. If Scott had convinced his younger self not to run away at least five times already, he had not come out yet. Now was the time.
“Scotty.”
He instantly knew what he was going to tell him. His body tensed and he stopped mid-sentence.
It reminded Scott of all the times he had done that in the past. This dull ache in his throat, this dread creeping on him, while a hundred questions came to his mind: what if they rejected me? Laughed at me? Hated me? What if I lost them? And even the fact of having to explain each time what being nonbinary was, that, yes, it was something real, that no, he was not just confused, that yes, he still preferred he as a pronoun, just because.
But Scott had been extremely lucky. He had the best mother and the best friends anyone could ever dream of. He felt even closer to them now, because they had accompanied him at every step. It had been long, full of doubts and questions, but they had never blamed him, only reassured him.
That was why Scotty had nothing to fear.
“Come on! I believe in you!”
He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Scott knew he was ready.
“Stiles…I have to tell you something.”
“Yeah?” What an oblivious kid.
“Don’t freak out okay? It doesn’t have to change anything between us. We had a great evening, and you told me you were bi, so… I hope you won’t hate me, please don’t, I like you so much, at least please stay my best friend –“
“Wait what? I didn’t get a thing, Bianca.”
“Stiles. I’m not Bianca. I mean, I am. Just that, I want you to call me Scott. I’m not a girl, you see? Not a boy either. It’s called nonbinary. It’s something between the two, and outside too. Maybe it’s difficult to understand? I know I look like a girl, and that Scott’s usually a boy’s name, but…”
Stiles was entirely silent. He was religiously listening to him.
“They still call it being trans. I’ve done research you know… It’s more difficult without you by the way… But it totally exists! I swear!”
“Wow. Okay. How do you know?”
His question lacked any judgment. He wanted to know because it was important for his best friend slash date.
“I’ve always known. I’ve never felt like a girl, and I’ve always felt like something was wrong when people called me Bianca… But I knew I was not a boy either.”
“Wow”, Stiles said again, and obvious tears appeared in his voice.
“What’s wrong? Do I scare you?
Just like Scotty had done before coming out, Stiles took a long breath.
“I’ve never felt like I was a boy either, Bia – Scott! It’s the first time I really realize it, in fact. With what you say! Maybe I’m a girl? No, I don’t think so. Maybe something else? Do you think it’s possible, Scott?”
Scotty was silent, and Scott speechless. None of them were expecting that. So this was what Deaton talked about when he had said the past could have some differences.
And then, the younger of the two laughed, laughed, in the lightest way imaginable.
“Of course! Why not? Oh my god Stiles! We’re going to be nonbinary together!”
They came back to their houses. When younger Scott joined his older self, he was smiling from ear to ear.
“He kissed me! Stiles kissed me! Oh, I’m so, so happy… Thank you!”
They hugged for a solid minute, during which the older Scott felt extremely nostalgic. This is what he had missed. Wow. He had to tell everything to his pack when he came back.
It was, in fact, the time to come back.
“I have to go, Scott. I’m so happy for you. I think everything will be great from now on. Love yourself, ok?”
But before he was answered, he had reappeared in front of Deaton.
