#lumenlight

When Derek leaves that night, the ghost starts acting up again. The cabinets in the kitchen are rattling, and Stiles is too tired to even deal with it. He remembers a post he saw on tumblr once where someone wrote a story of a ghost writing out what’s wrong with them and why they’re wreaking havoc.

So. With obvious science on his side, Stiles pulls out a notebook and a pen, throwing them on the counter.

“Please, air your grievances, ghost,” Stiles says to the empty house, but it’s not empty because it’s haunted.

He doesn’t expect to see anything tonight and maybe the ghost is shy, so Stiles turns off the kitchen light and heads upstairs to go to bed. 

To be honest, he didn’t expect anything from his uninvited house guest, but in the morning, as he’s grabbing coffee, he spots something on the notebook.

There’s a big heart drawn in the middle of the page, and inside the heart, it reads:

S + DForever

Stiles frowns at it for a solid minute, trying to decipher it. “Uh, it’s a very lovely heart,” Stiles tells the ghost. “But, uh, I’m not sure what you mean? Are you declaring your past love for someone? If you’re wanting me to find this person for unfinished business, I’m gonna need more to work with.”

A cabinet door opens and slams shut in response.

“Okay... don’t know what that means either, but we’ve opened up a way of communication, so I think we could use it.” He looks around the kitchen warily. “No? Okay then. I’m just gonna go about my day. Let me know if you need anything.”

Stiles reaches for the mug on the drying mat by his sink, but it slides over before he gets a grip. He lets out a huge sigh that rivals Derek’s dramatic ones. “Thank you for not throwing it on the floor like you did last week,” Stiles says instead of yelling. Maybe pissing off the ghost is a bad idea, and now that Stiles is older and more mature and has pissed one too many supernatural creatures, he’s learned his lesson. Don’t piss off what you can’t fight.

“I respect you, Casper, but I really do like my house in one piece. I think we can find a way to coexist. Just...let me know on the notebook, okay?” He looks around again as if he is actually talking to someone, which he is because ghost, but to the outsider, he’d look a little odd.

He reaches for his mug again, and thankfully, it doesn’t move out of his way. After pouring his coffee, he sits at his table and pulls out his phone.

Stiles: The ghost left me a message on a piece of paper

He waits a few moments, switching between tumblr and Twitter. The response is quick, though.

Derek: wtf

And of course, that’s all Stiles gets. He stands up and walks back into the kitchen where the notebook is still lying on the counter.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m taking a picture of your art to show Derek,” Stiles says. “He doesn’t believe me that you exist, so...proof.” He snaps the picture and sends it to Derek immediately with a message that reads:

Stiles: Does that look like my handwriting?

Derek: Oh shit it doesn’t. What does it mean?

Stiles: No idea. I’m trying to get more information but also trying not to piss off the artist.

Stiles’ refrigerator opens and slams. “Were you reading over my shoulder?” he asks, stunned. “That’s fucking rude, dude, and if you’re a kid I’m sorry for my language and also for, like, dying young because that’s awful.”

Suddenly, the pen starts floating and holy shit. Stiles knew there was a ghost but oh my god there’s a fucking ghost in his house.

The pen is hovering over the notebook and then touches down on it, moving up and down as the ghost writes. Stiles doesn’t want to be rude or scare the ghost off, so he waits until the pen is away from the notebook before he looks.

At the top of the page, there’s a new addition that says:

Your language isn’t the problem

“Then what’s the problem...?” Stiles asks.

The pen is picked up again, and it circles the heart. 

“Okay, what’s your love’s name? I can go looking for them and relay a message if you want.”

Not my love. Your love

Stiles frowns, setting his coffee cup down and looking closer at the message. “Uh, I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t have a love, so. Thanks for pointing that out.”

The next message makes it all clear:

Derek?

“S plus D... Stiles and Derek? Forever? You think we’re in love?” Stiles is so confused, and the novelty of the fact that he’s communicating with a ghost is wearing off. “That’s super flattering and all, but we’re just friends.”

Liar

“Okay, first off all, you don’t know me,” Stiles says, pointing in the direction of the floating pen. “Second of all, that’s just rude. Derek and I are friends. Really good friends, yeah, but just friends.”

Doesn’t mean you’re not in love with him

Stiles takes a deep breath. It’s too early for this supernatural shit. Only in Beacon Hills, he swears. “So what if I’m in love with him?” he shouts. “Doesn’t change anything. We’re still and always will be good friends.”

Not true

“What, you know something I don’t, Casper?”

Derek loves you

Stiles laughs a little hysterically at that message. The unmistakable sound of something shattering on the floor stops him, and he looks down at the shattered mug and coffee on the floor.

“You’re cleaning that up,” Stiles tells the ghost, “because that was fucking rude.” Stiles walks out of the kitchen, giving up and needing to go work on editing his manuscript, so he goes upstairs.

The rest of the day, the ghost follows him around and knocks things over, slams doors, and generally makes Stiles’ life a living hell.

Stiles: please for the love of god come over and make the ghost stop torturing me and racking up my water bill

Derek: How am I supposed to help?

Stiles: the ghost likes you remember?

Derek: Right. Be there soon

“Thank god,” Stiles sighs, leaning back in his desk chair with his hands in his hair. “Your favorite is coming over, Casper. Hope that helps with the temper tantrum.”

Surprisingly, that does stop the ghost from doing any more damage to Stiles’ poor house.

Stiles can hear his front door open and Derek calling out his name, so he lets Derek knows he’s upstairs. Derek stomps up the stairs and leans against the doorjamb of Stiles’ office with an eyebrow raised.

“Don’t judge me,” Stiles immediately says, pointing his finger. “I’m not the delusional ghost who thinks you and I are in love with each other.”

Now, Derek’s frowning and steps in the room to sit on the couch across the room from Stiles’ desk. “The ghost thinks we’re in love?” Derek asks slowly.

Stiles turns in his desk chair to look at Derek and nods. “Which is ike super flattering that Casper thinks I could land someone like you, but uh.” He laughs and shrugs. “I don’t know, dude. Can you just tell them you don’t love me like that, and maybe they’ll leave me alone?”

Derek looks around the room in the same way Stiles does when he’s about to talk to the ghost, and Stiles slumps in relief. Hopefully this will all end soon.

“Uh, hi?” Derek calls out. “I guess you know this, but I’m Derek.”

“Really?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know how to talk to ghosts, Stiles,” Derek snaps, glaring at Stiles. “I’m doing this for you.”

“Point taken,” Stiles concedes, holding up his hands.

Derek sighs and then goes back to talking to the ghost. “I just wanted to say, uh... you’re right.”

The mug shattered on the hardwood floor of Stiles’ office is, for once, not the ghost’s fault.

“I’m in love with Stiles, but he doesn’t feel the same way, so please don’t take it out on him. I’m honestly okay. We’re good friends, and I’d rather that than nothing.”

“I’m sorry - what?” Stiles practically shouts. “You’re in love with me? And never thought that this was information that you should share with me?”

Derek shrugged. “They’re my feelings, so no. Didn’t think I had to share them. It’s obvious they wouldn’t change anything.”

“Oh, my god,” Stiles groans. “You’re such an idiot.” And before Derek can say anything else, Stiles is shooting up off the desk and striding across the room to the couch. He straddles Derek’s lap and cups his face. “You really think that I’m not in love with you? After all these years? After all the awkward tries of flirting?”

Derek looks confused, his eyes moving back and forth between Stiles’ eyes. “I... feel like anything I say right now is going to make you think I’m even more of an idiot.”

“You’re probably right,” Stiles agrees, his thumbs idly caressing Derek’s cheekbones. “I think the only way to get around this is to kiss me.”

“Yeah?” Derek asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, suddenly nervous that being in Derek’s lap isn’t the best idea because yeah, he just admitted he loves Stiles, but what if Derek doesn’t want Stiles there?

Which Stiles figures is a stupid thought as soon as Derek’s hands grip his hips. “Uh, Casper, can we get some privacy?”