True Self
Summary: The Nogitsune can only possess people that lose their true self. Stiles lost his true self long ago, he stopped being Genim. There are still so many aspects of himself he fears, and the people they could cause him to lose.
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One
Stiles shivered at the icy coldness that had invaded his room. He'd woken up mere moments ago, but the arctic-like air was much better than coffee. Maybe his dad had left the AC on high?
He huffed and rose to his feet. What an annoyance. He'd have to walk downstairs to adjust the thermostat.
He gripped the doorknob and turned it. When he stepped forward it definitely wasn't into the second floor hallway. He found himself in the school surrounded by total silence and lockers.
Stiles knew his bedroom wouldn't be there anymore before he even turned around. Instead the double doors into the pool area were ajar.
He stepped forward, or perhaps he was being driven forward by something beyond himself. He wasn't sure.
Ethan and Danny were holding one another close, turning to look at him when he stepped through the doors.
His mind went back to the night he'd kept Derek afloat in that very pool, but the recollection was brief.
Ethan smirked at him knowingly, running teasing fingers up Danny's well-defined stomach and chest.
"Like what you see Stiles?" Ethan teased.
Danny matched Ethan's smirk, pulling him forward into a searing kiss. Stiles couldn't unglue himself from it, and his brain wasn't denying it- Ethan's lips, insistent, grinding, matched by Danny with equal fervor. It was hot.
Desire ignited in Stiles. He was suddenly and forcefully jerked forward, sure he would fall in the pool.
His eyes shot open. He was in the school hall again, and this time the doors to the pool were shut tight.
"Ethan?" he asked, voice loud in the dead silence. "Danny?"
A sudden bang broke the silence. The noise sounded again, and then again...
Stiles knew it was inside the lockers. He didn't know why he was walking forward. He didn't want to know...
He reached his own locker. The banging was louder.
His hand shook as he reached out for the combonation lock- right, left, right.
The lock clicked, sounding ominous in the silence.
The banging had stopped. For some reason the lock wasn't even there anymore. He turned the handle and pulled.
Suddenly it was all gone, locker and everything. He was in an empty classroom. Something was making a tapping noise.
He turned and saw a figure in a red hoodie at the chalkboard. Their back was turned. They were writing something that had already been written eight times- the same line:
Things I don't tell people...
Things I don't tell people...
Things I don't...
The figure finished the line and stopped, a pale hand setting the chalk aside. Fear flooded through Stiles head to toe.
The figure was turning. Stiles screamed and shot up in his bed, coated in sweat, as the face within that hoodie replayed in his mind- that bandaged and horrible face they'd believed was gone.
"Stiles?"
His gaze shot to the side of his bed. There was a man seated in his computer chair.
"Derek?" he asked strangely.
Then he was simply gone. Stiles was looking at an empty chair and no Derek.
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Stiles simply stood and stared at the metal doors, knowing the older man would not be pleased. Derek might be human now, but his strength still outclassed Stiles's.
It occurred to the boy that if Derek still possessed his werewolf sense of smell he'd be out there already.
Stiles hesitated only a moment more. He knocked.
It was about a minute and he almost knocked again, but then the door swung open.
Derek eyed him through sleep-heavy eyelids and yawned. He was wearing pajama pants and a white t-shirt that looked glued to his prominent abs and chest muscles.
"What is it Stiles?" he grumbled, running his fingers through messy black hair.
"Nightmare," the boy blurted. "He was in it."
Derek managed a slightly more concerned look, even in his half-sleep state.
"The Nogitsune?"
"The one and only," Stiles confirmed, nervous at the memory of the horrid bandaged monster.
"I thought Scott destroyed it," Derek said, slightly confused.
"Yeah well apparently not," Stiles sighed, massaging between his eyes with his fingers. "Immortal dark spirit here!"
"You're still somehow opening the door Stiles. Something you're doing and not telling. We've had this discussion."
"Yeah I know," Stiles replied. "Its just, I'm still coming to terms with all I am."
"Which is?" Derek asked, quipping an eyebrow.
The image of Ethan and Danny from the dream flashed before his eyes along with a more distant memory:
'Scott, do you think gay guys find me attractive?'
"Stiles!"
Derek's voice brought him crashing back to reality.
"Look, can I just camp out with you tonight? It'd help."
Derek only took a few seconds to nod.
Stiles stepped past him into the familiar loft. The place had grown on him in its ways. He found himself wishing not for the first time that Derek would want him here, as a roommate or something. Derek made him feel safe.
"Well there's the couch," Derek said, stepping toward the stairs.
"Derek."
The older man paused and grunted.
"Can I... sleep with... "
Derek's face snapped around to lock gazes with him, eyebrows raised skeptically.
"Well," he hesitated. "I suppose."
Stiles whooped and zipped past him, ADHD propelling him up the stairs. He literally jumped into the soft embrace of the king size bed.
"Getting ahead of ourselves aren't we?"
Stiles felt the bed shift as it took on Derek's additional weight. The former werewolf immediately flopped onto his back, gazing at the ceiling like it was interesting.
"You know," Stiles began with a snark. "This kinda reminds me... "
"I will seriously murder you," Derek warned. "Now go to sleep."
"Grumpy," Stiles emphasized. "Goodnight asshole."
"Bitch," Derek shot back
"You wish."
"Stiles just stop talking!"