zabrako snek

Hung The Moon by nrnyx

Stiles never slowed his pace as branches slapped his face and thorns snagged at his fur. Even when he thought he couldn’t hear them anymore, he didn’t give an inch. Stiles only stopped when Chris Argent grabbed him and lifted him completely off his feet, and even then, it took a moment for his legs to stop trying to run.

Stiles hadn’t known where he was running to. Instinct told him to find the safest place he could in the quickest amount of time, and Chris had told him once that he could always come here. Chris laid him on the ground, on his side, and held him in place with one hand while the other raked through his fur. A rumbling growl left the alpha’s throat as he tried to get Stiles to calm down.

“Stiles, you’re safe. Calm down so you can tell us what happened.” It took a minute for Stiles to gather his wits about him, to stop panting and stinking of fear. Allison helped as she knelt beside him too, her familiar scent soothing him, as one hand carded through his fur along with her father’s.

Her other hand held her cellphone to her ear while she spoke quickly down the line. They had heard the howls of the other wolves echoing all the way here. “Scott’s going to check it out,” She said to her father hanging up.

Chris nodded and stood. “I’m going to meet him there. Get Stiles inside and see if he’ll shift back.”

Stiles didn’t want to shift back, so he darted away as soon as he was inside, weaving from room to room until Stiles found the one he felt safest in. He went straight for Allison’s closet, where the scent of Scott was most potent, and found one of Scott’s hoodies. He pulled it from the hanger with his teeth and let it drape over him before curling up in the tightest ball he could manage on top of Allison’s shoes.

Allison hovered outside the closet door, but she didn’t try to coax him into shifting. Instead, she grabbed her bow and an arrow and stood guard in front of the door. “It’ll be okay, Stiles. My dad and Scott will take care of whatever it is. We won’t let anything hurt you.”

Derek, hasn't been called anything but a pet name in 4 years: Excuse me? Didn't realise we were back on that level, Stiles.

Stiles, grinning: Baby.

I imagine Stiles is the one taking these questions. At a press conference. Maybe when he’s head of the FBI, werewolves are known, and Derek Hale is the FBI liaison to the Lycan packs. The question was, “Should we have werewolves as bodyguards protecting the most important people in the world, like the President?”

They’re losing to the sea witch. Derek catches sight of Scott stumbling on the rocks, Isaac dragging himself away from the battle, clutching his side. Stiles is bleeding profusely, his bloody hands wrapped around the trident they have to somehow slay the witch with, and fending off the tiny minions clawing at his legs trying to retrieve it. Derek makes his mind up in an instant. He strides through the shallows, kicking at the sea urchins as he goes, yanks Stiles up the beach. 

“Don’t let Scott blame himself,” he yells.

“What?”

“Sorry I never returned that shirt of yours, it’s in a box under the bed. It smelt nice, was like you.”

“Derek—”

Derek runs his hands over Stiles’ face, rubs blood from his eyebrow and then leans forward and presses a desperate kiss to his forehead. 

“I was just getting started with you,” he yells as he backs away, trident in hand, “You were the most annoying, best kind of mystery.”

"Derek!”

The napkin is confetti by the time Boyd manages to snap him back to reality.

“Hm?”

“I said we’ve got a detainment. Call just came in, you coming?”

Derek downs the dregs of his coffee - it’s mostly foam now anyway - and stands up eagerly to shoulder his jacket.

“Where?” He tries his best not to be too obvious about how welcome the distraction is, but mall security isn’t exactly the most exhilarating gig in the world. Anything has to be better than chasing the pre-teens away from the Big Fountain - today especially.

“Bath & Bodyworks,” Boyd supplies, assuring Erica over the com that they’re on the way. Derek stops in his tracks.

“Bath & Bodyworks?” he rasps.

Boyd nods, hesitating when he realises that Derek isn’t keeping up. “Bath and– wait, is this the same store you don’t go into anymore since you told the cashier you love them?”