A/N: This story takes place after Episode 18 in the 3rd Series when we still all think Stiles is dying of sickness. This sad fact made a massive amount of Fangirls (including, well, me of course) hope that the ((kiss of a certain prince)) bite of a certain Sourwolf will turn the object of our obsession into a very ((potent)) healthy beast.
Enjoy Darlings!
And a very Happy Birthday, Regi! :3
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Summary: Stiles has an MRI scan and turns out to be sick. Scott wants to save his life by turning him. Derek disagrees with the plan - or is he. Caution: Sterek
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Lurking (at the back of my mind)
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/non-beta version/
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"Stiles, if you have it… we'll do something." the way Scott said it, Stiles could almost believe it would be all right.
"I will do something." and he was holding on, hugging and being hugged back by his best friend. It was good to have a person he could call a brother. As his heart struggled in desperation and he tried to blink away the tears in his eyes, Stiles saw someone else in the hospital room with them.
Someone was standing in the doorway, watching. The expression was not a kind one, but as always, Stiles had a hard time identifying all the things it could have meant.
Derek's eyes were fixed on them and Stiles automatically started to chant the lines he learnt were getting him out of the frightening mess.
"It's just a dream! Wake up! This isn't real, wake up! Thisisntrealwakeup!"
He straightened himself in the jeep, quickly taking in his surroundings. Thank God, Scott was driving. Was he? Or was this another dream? Scott had told him he'd rather drive since Stiles had been, well, somewhat distracted. Upset and sleep-deprived, definitely.
Stiles just hoped this time he was upset in the real world. And why Derek started to appear lately when his mind fucked with him, he would have to figure out sooner or later. At least those were times he could point it out to himself that he was having a dream so he could wake himself up. That offered some breather.
While he was mulling over his pitiful state he realized they arrived to the meeting place.
Great.
On to battle.
As they exited the comforting space of his beloved vehicle he found the intently staring, scary subject of his dream-state approaching.
There was some noncommittalgrumbling on Derek's part as another car pulled next to them.
Stiles closed his eyes.
There it came.
He never thought he would feel embarrassed in center of attention.
Lydia had her usual shocked expression on, mouth opened, tears flowing from pretty eyes.
Stiles felt Allison's arm sliding reassuringly around his shoulders.
"Stiles, I'm sure the doctors can do something."
Scott's grim face told a different story.
"There is no cure for dementia. That's why I wanted to talk to you, guys. Or more precisely…" he took a deep breath. "…tell you something."
Isaac crossed his arms in front of his chest, listening, his expression, though, was one that tried not to show discomfort. Or pity.
Bur before Scott could go on, Derek cut him short.
"You can't be seriously suggesting turning Stiles into one of us."
Stiles was not sure if the disapproval surprised him, but it hurt as hell.
He was dying for Christ's sake.
"Are you saying I should let him die? Just like that? We are talking about Stiles! Our Stiles!"
Scott was definitely not going to drop the plan and Stiles was really grateful for the support. He closed his eyes, counting down from ten as the two went on with the argument that was getting louder by the second.
"You don't know what will happen!"
"He will live on, that's what going to happen!"
"It's dangerous! You don't know how the kitsune would react!"
"He would have a chance to fight that monster!"
"We're talking about Stiles here!"
Scott was rendered speechless.
Stiles found his voice. It had less fire than Scott's but was more oppressed emotion.
"I'm trying to decide if you really think so little of me or if you're afraid I will do the werewolf-thing better than you."
Derek's lips pressed into a thin line.
Stiles gave him a last disgusted look and turned. He still heard Scott giving Derek his mind as he was walking away.
"I am the alpha, he's my brother and I did not ask for your permission."
Derek's reaction was lost behind him.
He woke up alone in the forest. What was he doing again, getting there? Did he hurt someone?
Shit!
It was cold and misty, the perfect setting for something bad to happen – for things to go terribly wrong.
That was when he realized, he was not alone anymore.
The dark figure materialized slowly in the milky white surroundings, becoming familiar.
Derek, standing still, was staring at him like dozens of times before.
Stiles did really not want to see him right now. To be honest, he did not want to see aloof man for a very long time.
But on the optimistic side this meant Stiles was having a dream.
He was just about to start chanting the usual lines to wake himself up, when his blood run cold.
Derek was moving towards him.
This was bad, very bad.
This also meant he was not dreaming.
Stiles was frozen on the spot. He couldn't have moved to save his life - and that might have been just the moment to run for dear life.
He felt like that particular deer in the headlight. Instinct told him to run and hide, but where could he go?
It's not like the other wasn't able to catch up before he got a few feet away.
Did Derek really think he was a liability? Was he taking matters in his own hand and getting rid of Stiles? How the hell did they end up alone together in this place?
Maybe the others were nearby. Scott should be on his way to save him right now. He was the alpha, so theoretically he should have found Stiles near as soon as Derek.
And that stupid fight they all had... But Derek was not a cold blooded murderer, right? Even if they had fights and disagreements, they also had fucking history! Saving each other's asses all the time and stuff.
Derek stopped right in front of him, their chests slightly touching. The difference in height was evident as Derek was looking down on him.
Near hyperventilating Stiles was trying to come up with smartass comments, but no words managed to come out this time. He lowered his eyes in submission and felt Derek's head bend down, lips hot right at his ear.
"This is what you want?" Stiles felt hands move to rest on his hips. Derek did not squeeze him hard; just let the tips of his fingers sneak onto the 147 pounds of pale skin where Stiles' shirt met pants.
Stiles' heart sped away, shivering from the unexpected touch.
"You want to play the big bad wolf, too?"
The low, grumbled words were suddenly contrasted with sharp pain. Stiles knew before he felt the moisty liquid wetting his side that he was having werewolf claws in his hips.
He managed to jerk away in a sudden rush of panic, falling back onto forest floor. Crawling backwards on the dead leaves, Stiles felt like he was moving in slow motion while more blood started to trickle down his sides.
Derek was just staring down on him. Stiles kept scrambling back, falling yet again trying to get up. He never turned from Derek and finally managed to get his feet under him.
The simple act of standing put painful pressure on the wounds on his hips. It did not help when Derek started to approach him again.
"Now is the time to run, puppy."
Stiles thought that was a splendid idea and did just that.
Finally, turning from the other, he fled in agony, every step a torturous effort.
It is somehow hard to fill your lungs with adequate amount of air when you are near to having a heart-attack and there is a creepy howl, then the sound of chasing behind you.
It must have been seconds when at last the beast tackled him and he was going down again.
With the last of his strength he kept on screaming, fighting off the world around him.
Derek was trying to hold Stiles still, plastering him on the forest floor.
The kid kept screaming and biting and scratching.
"Stiles! Wake up, dammit!"
Derek was feeling grumpier than usual. Following the faint scent of the sleepwalking teen all night took a toll on his nerves. Why Stiles preferred strolling the dark woods was lost to him.
At least he did not try to hurt anyone this time - not counting that he was busy clawing at Derek right then.
Stiles wriggle-turned in his grip, so that Derek ended up lying face to face on him. Bad idea, as now Derek was more exposed to the clumsy dogfight attempts.
He managed to collect two wrists in one grip, bringing them above Stiles' head, while he fisted his other hand in the short locks, securing the teen's head in a tight grip.
"Stop it, Stiles! It's just a dream! Wake up already!"
Derek's muscles literally burned until Stiles started to lose strength. Kids had a lot of energy; it seemed ages till this one tired and the persistent wriggling ceased with some of the adrenaline gone.
Tear-smeared face was focusing on him now that the hysteria was letting up.
"This is an awfully convenient posture to rip out my throat."
Stiles' voice was hoarse with exhaustion and overuse.
"I am not ripping out your throat."
Derek snarled, frustrated.
"Cause you don't have to bother with it. I'm dying anyway."
"Stiles…"
"What else is there to say?! You don't want to let Scott help me!"
The answer was another snarl.
"Scott is not turning you. He can't. He sure as hell won't."
"He's an alpha. Of course he can!"
Stiles started to struggle again.
"No!"
There was that snarl again.
"Fuck you!"
Stiles felt the anger rising in him and he locked eyes with the immovable weight on top of him. He really wanted to get out of the other's grip. Preferably right then.
In a way this hurt more than Derek wanting to rip him to shreds. This was confusing and shameful. He knew Derek did not think much of him, but Stiles would never have thought the other would simply let him to die like that. Wasn't Stiles even worth a try to fit among the likes of them?
There was a clearing of the throat above him. His captive seemed suddenly uncomfortable.
"Stiles…"
Stiles took in a quick breath and stilled completely.
"What the…?!"
There it was. Definitely pressing into his thigh. Hard.
Stiles felt blood rush to his face.
His response was that of a healthy teenager with all its speed and potential.
His shock over the fact that he was answering Derek's reaction on his thigh with an answering poke to the man's stomach was sobering.
And suddenly it made all sense.
It came to Stiles all so clear now.
The kitsune was using Derek in his dreams on purpose to frighten him. So Stiles would be afraid not only of Derek but also of turning into a wolf. That's what it was all about! It was using his attraction to the man!
Shit.
No, attraction to Derek was a bad, bad thing. Stiles already dealt with that in his mind. Mind control was a good, good thing.
Just tell yourself often enough that you don't really feel attraction to someone you should not have - and voila. It happens.
No acting on desires, not even acknowledging there had ever been anything of the sort.
But what Stiles buried in the deepest pits of his consciousness could not be denied in front of a powerful thing that was digging inside his friggin' mind. The damn thing knew how to take advantage of his weaknesses.
Stiles felt like summing up his illuminating thoughts, informing the man above him simply.
"I think the kitsune really does not want me to turn into wolf."
Derek lifted his eyebrows in deceptively mild inquiry.
"Too bad."
Stiles' head was turned to the side carefully but without prospect of refusal.
His heart kept beating out of his chest and he felt hypersensitive when a nose nuzzled in his neck then he was softly nipped at.
His skin broke out in full goose bumps when lips whispered very close to his ear.
"Fuck Scott."
Stiles chuckled breathlessly in relieved amusement.
"Really? That was it all about?"
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TBC