Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.
Read on, oh faithful ones...
...
Getting spells off the Internet is totally legit, and besides, Stiles is desperate. His favourite haunting is closed for the holidays, which he thinks is stupid 'cause as an expat, Fi doesn't even like the Fourth of July. But she's gone, can't recommend a spell, and so now Stiles is stuck going to his father's Fourth of July BHPD police barbecue on the weekend. He's going to be facing the love of his life in the form of Deputy Derek Hale, who is conveniently dating the other love of Stiles' life, Lydia Martin. So basically, fuck his life sideways.
Which brings him to finding spells on the Internet as a last minute resort because someone had to close their Wicca and occult shop for the 4-day weekend. Still, it seems like a good spell, it's got salt and seeds and all the other shit he'd probably find in an actual book, and Stiles just has to believe that it'll work. Right, he can totally do this, and it will work.
The words on his screen are in all-caps, as if to mock him about his ridiculous crushes that make him an idiot (even more than usual, at least) and how he'll probably be alone forever and then for a few weeks after that, too. LOVE REPRESSION SPELL.
He found a chipped flowerpot and gathered some soil from the backyard, bought a pack of sunflower seeds from the local nursery, and purchased Himalayan pink salt online that cost far more than a pretty penny (fifteen bucks for fucking salt! If this doesn't work, he's getting a damn refund). It's finally arrived and Stiles is so totally ready for this spell to work. Just once he'd like to be around Lydia or Derek without making a complete ass of himself. He's tripped over his feet, over the air, over his tongue, and that was just from seeing Lydia and Derek across the road. On separate occasions Stiles has actually set himself on fire when he saw them kissing; managed to walk into his own Jeep when he saw Lydia stalking into a coffee shop like a woman on a mission; and almost choked to death because he had the misfortune to drink something when Derek walked into the room wearing his Deputy's uniform. So yeah, seeing them just once without embarrassing himself completely would be nice.
Besides, Stiles just needs to survive this weekend and then he'll be able to reverse the spell. At least, he's pretty sure he can do that - that's the thing about spells on the Internet: they don't tell you if there's a way to unfuck the things you're about to fuck up. Still, it's so worth the risk. (He ignores a voice of reason that tells him not only will Fi kill him for this, but his Dad will probably hand her the shovel.)
"C'mon, Stilinski. No backing out now. Do the spell, or wuss out and use the salts to have a really expensive bath," Stiles mutters to himself, printing the spell so he can add it to his Book of Spells once it's done. Besides, his spells always work better off a paper medium rather than a computer screen, hence his earlier mentioned 'setting himself on fire' thing.
He looks to the spell one more time, takes a deep breath, and pours the soil into the pot. He holds the two sunflower seeds in his hands, envisioning Lydia and her hair and her smile and her smarts, and Derek and his hair and his stubble and his rare smile and his smarts (he has a type, so sue him). He thinks about how he loves them from a distance, how he wants to be with them, to make them laugh, to kiss them and hug them and maybe even have sex with them one day, to talk with them about anything and everything, even if they don't understand about his magic and comics, or if he doesn't understand about Lydia's maths and science that goes above his head, or Derek's passion for literature that Stiles is pretty sure that not even the authors have read since their printing. Stiles puts all of those feelings into the seeds and then buries them firmly into the soil.
He has to bite the inside of his cheek as he grabs a handful of the pink salt, forces himself to remember that this is a good thing, and Stiles salts the earth, imagining the seeds stunting and the soil becoming infertile. He puts his hand over the pot, clenching the sides tight enough to turn his fingers white.
This seed will not bloom, I will feel nothing for them, this love will not grow.
This seed will not bloom, I will feel nothing for them, this love will not grow.
This seed will not bloom, I will feel nothing for them, this love will not grow.
Three times chanted, his own will and power added, and Stiles lets go of the pot, his fingers and his heart aching.
...
"Hey, kid, you ready for the BBQ?" John asks, grinning at him through the doorway.
"You bet, old man. I'll be watching your plate, so you'd better make sure there's salad on it!"
John rolls his eyes. "You'll be watching Derek and Lydia, more like. I could probably eat a full plate of bacon while standing next to you."
"Nope! Not happening today, Pops," Stiles says confidently, patting his father on the shoulder as he passes.
John blinks in surprise at Stiles' response, or lack of one. Usually, if he so much as mentions Derek or Lydia, Stiles flails and stammers and forgets all about his bacon-eating ways. John frowns and follows his son downstairs. It will be different at the barbecue when Stiles is in viewing distance of Derek and Lydia, just like it always is. There's nothing secret about the fact that Stiles likes both of them, but even more obvious - to everyone except Stiles, that is - is that Derek and Lydia are waiting for him to make a move. Everyone in town knows it, too; even old Mrs. Gawler down at the supermarket is running a betting pool on when Stiles will get the courage to actually ask Derek and Lydia out. John's got his own money bet on the day of the barbecue. Jordan hadn't approved of him betting on his own son's love-life, but Melissa had cackled and gone straight down to the shops to put her own bet in.
John was fairly sure that Melissa's the reason Mrs. Gawler now has a bet running on Scott-Allison-Isaac as well. Their dancing around each other has become something of amusement for most of the older adults who always find reasons to be going to the veterinary clinic where the three can often be found with longing expressions while the others aren't looking. That betting pool is Mrs. Gawler very shrewdly hides from Mr. and Mrs. Argent, despite their own bets in Stiles' pool.
The drive to the park is free of Stiles' usual nervous habits, no biting of his fingernails, or chewing on his shirt, or jostling and foot tapping. Stiles, unaware of his father's confused thoughts, chatters on happily enough about most topics.
"Scott said he's going to ask Allison and Isaac out today. I told him to do it this afternoon when they're too full from food to say no," Stiles snickers.
"What about you?" John asks.
"I love Scott like a brother, Pops, you know that."
"That's not what I'm talking about, Stiles. What about Derek and Lydia?" he asks, glancing to see Stiles shrug carelessly. No flailing, blushing, or any other response that usually comes from their names. John wonders if there's something wrong with his son; maybe he's on drugs?
"Oh. I figured they're happier together on their own. Not everyone's got a third, as you very well know; you and Mum didn't, after all, and people don't actually need thirds. Derek and Lydia are a prime example of a power couple that doesn't need a third, 'specially not me," Stiles adds with a laugh.
John frowns again at that; Stiles isn't one usually for putting himself down. At least, not out loud. He'll ooze and smother people with his self-confidence until they believe it's real. He shakes his head and concentrates as he parks the cruiser next to Melissa's car, then he turns to his son and gives him a serious look.
"Just because you think they don't need a third, doesn't mean they don't need one. And don't put yourself down like that; you're better than that."
He gets another self-deprecating laugh in response, then Stiles gives him a broad smile that almost looks real.
"Thanks for the pep talk, Pops. Good times, we should do it again sometime," Stiles says, obviously sarcastic, and John wants to sigh in relief that his son's back to his normal self. "Derek and Lydia don't want a thing to do with me, and that's all there is to it. Now, I spy with my little eye, your lovely lady and newest Deputy coming up the hill to greet you, so I'll see you at the barbecue, old man, and remember, I'm watching your plate!"
By the time Melissa and Jordan make it up to the cruiser, John's standing beside it, watching as his son greets Scott by jumping on his back. Melissa greets him with a kiss, and Jordan puts a hand on his shoulder with a smile - he's new to being a third, and still nervous about the whole thing. John and Melissa have even agreed not to tell their kids until Jordan was a bit more settled in, but honestly, with the way Mrs. Gawler stalks anyone in her betting pools, John's not surprised at his nerves.
"Everything all right, John?" Melissa asks, seeing that he's distracted and still watching after Stiles.
"Can you check on Stiles, make sure he hasn't taken any drugs? Just," he pauses, sighing heavily for a moment.
"Be discreet about it?" Melissa guesses, and he nods in response.
Jordan looks between them in surprise. "You honestly think Stiles is taking drugs? I mean, besides his Adderall?"
John shrugs. "I've no idea; but I mentioned Derek and Lydia's names three times today, and he barely responded. I just want to rule it out, that's all. If it's just him giving up, then that's different, but this just doesn't feel like that."
"I'll talk to him later, see if I can get something out of him," Jordan promises.
John thanks him for the offer, and hopes that maybe Jordan can get an answer from his son.
...
"C'mon man, man up. You've gotta ask 'em today!"
"Why's it gotta be today?" Scott whines, looking to where Isaac's hanging out with Erica and Boyd.
"Because you promised me you'd do it today," Stiles replies, completely serious for a moment, then he grins. "C'mon, it's romantic. Overcooked mystery meat hotdogs and personal injuries from fireworks, how can you beat that?"
"You're not helping, Stiles," Scott mutters, now watching the arriving crowd for any sign of Allison. "I want to ask them together. Get it over and done with quickly, so when they both reject me, I'll be able to wallow in self-pity for the next three days instead."
"Atta boy. Look, there's Ally. Hey, Ally! C'mere," Stiles calls out loudly. "Isaac, get over here!"
"What are you doing? What happened to the whole 'ask them after they're in food comas' plan?" Scott hisses.
Stiles smirks at his best friend. "You'll thank me one day."
"Oh, yeah, you think so? Allison's bringing Lydia and Derek over. If I ask her and Isaac out, you have to do the same with them!" Scott says, stubborn and triumphant.
"No problem-o, bro."
"Wait, what?" Scott asks, eyes wide at Stiles' easy response. "What the hell, dude? You're kidding, right?"
"Who's kidding?" Isaac asks curiously, looking between them.
"You, obviously, wearing a scarf in this heat. What the hell, Lahey?"
"It's a summer scarf, Stilinski. Something called fashion, which you obviously don't know a thing about," Isaac retorts, a grin twitching at his lips.
"Pretty sure you used that insult last week, Isaac," Stiles replies, grinning.
"Yeah, and you've insulted my scarves about five times in the last month," Isaac replies, grinning back at him now.
"Yeah, dude; we've obviously gotta get new material. Hey, here's Allison. Allison, you remember my good buddy, Scott? Scott, you remember the dark-haired, troll-killing beauty from my online MMO, Allison?"
"What's going on, Scott?" Allison asks, looking a little amused at Stiles' odd introduction. The fact that he could even talk in a five-foot radius of both Lydia and Derek was surprising.
"Allison, Isaac... I wanted... I was going... I mean... D'you..."
"Oh, god, Ally, I can't watch. Put him out of his misery," Lydia groans, turning to bury her head against Derek's bicep.
"Lydia," Allison hisses, waving at her to shut up. "Scott, go on."
"Willyoubothbeinathirdwithme? Please?" Scott asks in a rush of breath, cheeks bright red.
"Of course we will," Isaac says promptly.
"I've been waiting for you to ask for about three weeks," Allison adds, grinning, stepping in close to kiss him, tugging Isaac along with her.
"Why'd you wait so long?" Stiles asks curiously.
Allison's eyes flick towards Lydia and Derek. "No reason, Stiles. Do you have anything to say, by the way?"
"Oh, yeah!" Stiles turns towards Lydia and Derek. His heart constricts with pain and he clenches his hands, face paling. "'scuse me. Hey, Mrs. Gawler! I'm collecting!" he calls out joyfully, over-acting to get past the pain, and moves past Lydia and Derek without even sparing a glance in their direction.
"W-what?" Derek stammers, looking between their friends and Stiles' retreating form in confusion. "What just happened?" he demands, voice and expression softening when he sees that Lydia looks as shocked as he feels. The others look much the same.
"No idea. Stilinski's been head over heels for both of you since he literally fell head over heels for you," Erica supplies, frowning in confusion.
"It wasn't his fault, it was snowing," Lydia defends, snapping at Erica.
Erica shrugs. "Whatever, it's still true. Scott, any ideas? How about you, Mrs. McCall?"
"Mum! Uh, this... Hi?" Scott says, pulling away from Isaac and Allison, but clutching their hands firmly.
"Glad to see you've finally gotten around to asking them out. I'll expect to talk to you the three of you later, understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Isaac and Allison chorus.
"Now, where's Stiles? John thinks there's something wrong with him," Melissa says, looking around.
"He went to collect something from Mrs. Gawler, I believe, Mrs. McCall," Derek offers politely.
"We'll look with you," Lydia adds, grabbing Erica and Boyd so they can give the new third some space.
"Actually, Red, there's a drink table that's got my name on it. I'll call out if I see Stiles though," Erica adds, shrugging out of Lydia's grip and leading Boyd over to the drink table.
"What did the Sheriff say was wrong with Stiles?" Derek asks, and Lydia can feel his grip on her hand tighten in worry.
"He's not sure, that's why I'm looking for him. Ah, there he is. I'd like you two to stay back for a moment, please. I need to judge his reaction."
"Reaction to what?" Lydia asks, receiving an eyebrow raised in amusement in return. "Oh."
"Yeah. Just stay there. I'll wave you over if need be," Melissa adds, heading over to Stiles.
Stiles slips the IOU in his pocket from Mrs. Gawler. He has $150 to collect, and he plans on collecting it sooner rather than later. There were several things he wanted to buy for -
His heart clenched in pain and Stiles almost doubled over at the sensation, like someone was pouring salt into an open wound.
- Buy for himself. Right, that's all. No one else. Just him.
"Stiles? Are you all right?" Melissa asks, hand on his shoulder and feeling him trembling.
"Fine, just the heat. Think I need a drink of water."
"Is that all you need?"
"Uh. Yes?" Stiles says, looking to her in confusion.
"Have you seen Derek and Lydia today?"
"Oh, yeah, I saw them earlier when Scott asked Isaac and Allison to be in a third with him. He's going to be all adorably puppy-happy for the next three days, just so you know."
Melissa frowns a little. "Stiles, what were Derek and Lydia wearing?"
"Um, clothes. Yeah, pretty sure it's not a naked picnic, Mel," Stiles jokes, laughing.
"Did you take your Adderall this morning?"
"Yeah, with breakfast, same as always. I haven't forgotten my Adderall since I was six, Mel."
She hums and lets go of his shoulder to check something on her phone. "Stiles, can you see if you can fix this for me?" she asks, flashing the phone's torch into his eye.
"Geez! I would if I could see right now! What the hell?"
"Language, Stiles. Look at me."
Stiles blinks a few times, but manages to look at Melissa after a few seconds.
"You're fine."
"It was just the light, Mel. Is that what's wrong with your phone?"
"No, I've fixed it, it's all right now. I've got to find your father. Have you seen him?"
"He'd better be at the salad table," Stiles mutters.
"He's at the barbecue station; don't worry, I'll make sure he eats salad today as well," she promises, then waves Derek and Lydia over discreetly.
"Thanks, Mel."
"You're welcome. Oh, look, here's Derek and Lydia. Why don't you take some time to talk to them? Ah, there's your father," Melissa says, leaving without another word.
"Uh, all right. There's probably other people here they want to talk to though, right?" Stiles asks, grinning at them. "Hey, the whole obligatory chat thing isn't really obligatory, y'know. I won't tell if you won't."
Lydia frowns at him briefly and beside her, Derek just looks confused.
"Are you okay?" Derek blurts out.
"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Great, in fact. How about you two?" he asks.
"We've been better, actually. Are you really all right, Stiles? You're not acting like your usual self," Lydia adds, looking concerned.
Stiles takes a moment to look at both of them properly, then he sees what Melissa alluded to earlier in asking what they were wearing: Derek is dressed in blue pants, a white shirt, and a dark vest, and Lydia's dressed in a white summer dress, her hair done up in buns on either side of her head. If Stiles didn't know better, he'd assume they were doing a low-key cosplay of Han and Leia - his two favourite characters from Star Wars - but it's Derek and Lydia, so Stiles knows better.
"Hey, nice outfits. And yeah, I'm really all right. Fit as a fish. Wait, I meant horse. Although, fish've gotta be pretty fit to swim around 24/7, right?"
Derek seems to relax at Stiles' rambling, and he gives one of his rare smiles. "Yeah, they probably do. Do you, uh, know a lot about fish?"
"Nah, haven't really got much of an interest in aquatic animals," Stiles replies, shrugging.
"What are you interested in, then?" Derek asks, hopefully.
Stiles is confused at their interest in him. It's not the longest conversation they've had, but it's one of the few where he hasn't made a complete idiot of himself in the first five minutes (see above: falling literally head over heels in front of Lydia and Derek almost two years prior). He can feel a pain in his chest, a hint of the salt-in-the-wound pain to come, and he decides to get out while the getting's still good.
"I'm gonna head over to the drinks table. Enjoy the barbecue," he says over his shoulder, leaving before the pain gets worse.
"Stiles, wait," Lydia calls, but he lifts a hand in response and keeps walking to the table.
Stiles pours himself a drink and as he sips, he looks around the picnic to find a quiet place to sit by himself. He sees Erica and Boyd talking with the town's newcomer, Kira Yukimura. She's blushing at their attention, with Erica's boldness and Boyd's quiet intensity. Her parents are talking with Dr. Deaton and Satomi about tea or something like that. Mason's got an arm around Brett, and they keep looking at Malia every so often. She's got a predatory look on her face, so if they don't approach her within the next few minutes, Stiles is positive she'll make a move herself. He wonders if Mrs. Gawler will take a bet on it.
"Nah, better not risk it," he mutters to himself.
"Risk what?" Lydia asks beside him, pouring her own drink. Derek's nowhere to be seen.
"Nothing that'd interest you. Where's Derek?" he asks, his name enough to bring on a shiver of pain.
"Talking with Jackson and Danny. I think they're going to ask for his help with a third."
"They have someone in mind?" Stiles asks, curious and surprised; Mrs. Gawler hasn't mentioned anything about them, and she knows everything about everyone.
"Liam, I believe. He's grown since they last saw him, and somehow, he isn't with Brett and Mason as everyone thought."
"Yeah, I was surprised about that too. It looks like they're interested in Malia, though," he adds, nodding towards them.
Lydia sips her drink and hums thoughtfully. "Of course, he might also ask for their help with a third, too."
"You and Derek actually want a third?" Stiles asks in disbelief, the pain making his cup shake in his hand briefly.
Lydia glances at it with yet another frown. "Yes. We've been waiting for them to approach us, but I think a more direct approach will be necessary," she replies, looking at him.
Stiles' heart feels like it splits open and he clenches his hands as salt pours directly into the wound. He can even taste the salt in his mouth, then he realises that he's bitten his tongue and it's actually blood he can taste. Not only that, but he's spilled his drink all over his shirt by clenching his hands in anguish and pain. Lydia's still watching him, as if she's enjoying watching his own personal torture. They've probably found a third that's as beautiful and smart as they are. Parrish is still single, so maybe it's him?
"I've got to clean my shirt. Good luck with your third, Lydia."
Pain starts to flood his entire body, like his heart's bleeding into every limb and organ, and the rush of pink salt is following it like a disease. He gasps and clenches his hands, barely keeping himself upright as he rushes towards the public bathrooms.
He's writhing in pain, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Stiles is aware of the fact that he's having a panic attack along with it. He's surrounded by the usual eau de stink of public bathrooms, people are outside laughing and playing and talking, his shirt's covered in sticky drink, and Derek and Lydia actually want a third. They want a third and it's not him.
He'll be fine, the spell will stop it from hurting when they get their third, but for now, he can't stop thinking about Derek and Lydia despite the pain, despite the fact they want a third who's probably better than him in every way, and Stiles' panic attack stops his usual desire to breathe.
His last coherent thought is thinking 'the spell should come with a list of side-effects' and then darkness creeps in on his vision, a welcome respite to the pain and panic. Blissfully, Stiles passes out.
...
Stiles wakes up to the sound of fireworks. It's a dull noise and from the soft mattress underneath him, Stiles figures he's inside. He opens his eyes to see his familiar room around him, and sighs softly, head and chest aching as he sits up.
"Dad?" he calls out, getting out of bed. He's still dressed in his clothes from earlier, though his socks and shoes have been taken off, so he heads downstairs barefoot.
"In the lounge room, Stiles," John calls, and Stiles frowns at the tone of his voice. It sounds less like 'relieved father' and far more 'you're in trouble, young man'.
"Everything all r- oh," Stiles winces when he sees the salted flowerpot sitting on the coffee table in front of his father, next to his Book of Spells.
Worse still, Derek and Lydia are in the room, as are Melissa and Jordan. Stiles is pretty sure that if it was possible, his father would've brought Fi in to witness this as well.
"Oh is right; what have I told you about using unreliable spells off the Internet? Especially emotional ones?"
"It's dangerous and I should always get Fi to check them before I do anything. But that's not my fault; she's gone for the weekend, and I didn't... I had my reasons," Stiles finishes lamely, scratching his forearm and not looking at anyone in the room, especially not Lydia or Derek.
"Your reasons almost killed you! You're lucky Derek found you when he did, or you might've seriously hurt yourself!"
"John, breathe," Melissa says, taking his hand.
Behind the lounge, Deputy Parrish is pacing and alternating between expressions of concern and anger. Stiles wonders if Lydia really does enjoy torturing him, to bring her and Derek's new third along.
"Stiles, you there, boy?"
"Fi?" he asks, paling and looking around. Hidden beside his Book of Spells is his father's phone, and he winces when he sees Fi's picture displayed on the screen. Looks like his father got Fi to witness this, after all.
"You be in so much trouble when I get back, boy," she says, her Jamaican accent thick and completely pissed. "You obviously don' 'member basic trainin', so you be in training wit' the greenies, y'understand?"
"Come on, Fi, it wasn't that bad."
"Yes, it was," Derek snaps, his first words since Stiles' arrival downstairs.
Stiles steps back like he's been physically slapped. He looks to his father, but he's still holding Melissa's hand, and Jordan's got a hand on his shoulder like he's trying to keep him grounded as well. Jordan's presence suddenly makes sense, and Stiles looks at Lydia and Derek again in a new light.
"You... You want me as your third?" he squeaks.
"We were waiting for you to come to us, but if... If this is what you think of us, then I - I can't," Derek says, sounding as if his heart is breaking with every word.
A cold feeling washes over Stiles and he doesn't know what to say.
"Der?" Lydia whispers, eyes filled with tears as she looks at him.
"I can't, Lyds. He hates us enough to do this, and if he doesn't hate us, then he still wanted to!"
"No! Not that, never!" Stiles says urgently, words falling out as he tumbles forward and almost knocks the coffee table over. "I just... I wanted to be myself, not be an idiot. I was... I wasn't thinking, and I'm sorry. I just wanted it to stop hurting every time I saw both of you," he admits, barely aware that his father's leaving the room with Melissa and Jordan. Then he sniffs and gives a brief laugh. "Of course, if I'd known how much it'd hurt instead, I would've just wussed out."
"It hurt?" Fi asks, and Stiles starts; he forgot she's on the phone.
"Uh, yeah. Felt like someone stabbed me in the heart, then poured that damn pink salt right into the wound," Stiles mutters, rubbing at his chest as if he could still feel the pain.
Which, he belatedly realises, he can't actually feel anymore. Even with Derek and Lydia right there in his lounge room, there's no pain like there had been at the barbecue.
"Break the pot."
"Huh?"
"Just do as I say, boy, or I'll 'ave you teachin' the greenies next!"
Stiles eeps and grabs the pot, looking for somewhere to smash it that won't ruin the lounge room. Before he can just smash it anyway, Derek takes off his vest and shirt, offering the shirt to Stiles, who stares at his chest for a long moment instead.
"Stiles? Break the pot," Lydia says, smirking at his dazed expression.
"Oh, right."
He wraps the warm shirt around the flowerpot and then smashes it on the ground. At Fi's direction, Stiles opens the shirt carefully, bit of soil and clay mixed together with pink salt scattered between.
"Look for the seeds, boy. Tell me what they look like."
Aware that Derek and Lydia are watching him curiously, Stiles searches for the sunflower seeds. He finds the seeds a moment later and picks them up carefully. He can feel his own magic and will wrapped around them, but it's different than the feeling he'd had when he first put the seeds into the soil.
"Well, boy?"
"Oh, uh, they're sprouting. And Fi, they don't feel the same, either," Stiles adds.
"How'd they feel before?"
"Well, I don't know, it just wasn't like this."
"What were you thinkin' when you were holdin' the seeds?" Fi asks after a moment.
Stiles looks at Derek and Lydia, then looks away just as quickly. "Love," he answers finally, knowing that Fi will badger him incessantly if he doesn't reply.
"What does that mean? I thought salt was meant to destroy the earth and the seeds, not let them sprout?" Lydia asks, directing her question to Fi, but looking at Stiles and the seeds he's cradling in his palm carefully.
Fi cackles for a bit, sounding every bit like a stereotypical witch - a show she likes to put on for the greenies that come into the store - then her noise dies down, and she answers Lydia's question. "It means the boy's love for you both was enough to survive a spell specifically designed t' repress it, and strong enough to go against Mother Nature herself. Though, in this case, I think She might've helped things along. Now, I've got a party t' return to. Tell your father I said goodbye, boy."
"Night, Fi," John calls from the dining room, obviously listening in to every word.
Stiles goes red in embarrassment and he knows that he would face-palm if he wasn't still holding onto his seeds so carefully.
There's another cackle from Fi and then the call disconnects, silence descending on the lounge room. For once, Stiles doesn't know what to say, how to break this fragile silence without ruining everything completely.
"Do you need something for the seeds, Stiles?" Lydia asks, voice hesitant and as unsure as Stiles feels.
He looks to the two tiny seeds still cupped in his hands, sprouting with even tinier green shoots, filled with every bit of love he feels for the two sitting on the lounge and yet at the same time, even further from him than that short distance. Stiles can't look away from his seeds, but he nods. Lydia doesn't reply, but he sees from the corner of his eye that she's leaving the room to get something. A vase, perhaps, but Stiles had been hard pressed to find the flowerpot that's sitting in pieces before him.
"Stiles?" Derek murmurs, closer than Stiles expects, and he looks over to see that Derek's moved to the very end of the lounge, closest to him. "Can I?" he asks quietly, eyes flicking to the seeds.
As far as Stiles knows, Derek doesn't have any sort of magical ability to be able to feel what the seeds contain, but he lifts his hand anyway. Derek seems nervous, his hand trembling as he holds it out in return, and Stiles tips the seeds into his palm carefully. He watches Derek, sees his eyes widen, and wonders if he can feel the feelings emitting from the seeds despite not having a magical ability.
"You really... Stiles, I'm sorry," Derek whispers.
"What for?"
"For saying you hated us. I thought - " Derek looks from Stiles down to the seeds. "I didn't know it was like this for you too."
"Too?" Stiles asks, hesitant and wary, despite everything.
Derek nods. "I... Lydia, she... She's better at explaining, but we feel like this for you, too."
"Your father says this will be fine until we can get the seeds replanted; I don't think sunflower seeds will survive for long in a mug though," Lydia adds, holding a mug of soil out to Stiles.
He sees the dirt under her fingernails, the dark stains on her white dress, and realises that Lydia actually gathered the soil herself for him. It's not a big gesture, nor is it anything huge that Derek's still holding the seeds, but they haven't put him down or laughed or disregarded anything he's said, even when he's tripping over his tongue, and it means the world to Stiles.
Stiles snorts when he sees the mug his father has chosen - love stronger than caffeine - and he accepts it from Lydia, then the seeds from Derek's offered palm.
"Wait. Stiles, can I hold them, too?" Lydia asks, sitting beside him and careful to avoid Derek's shirt with broken bits of pottery and soil. "Just for a moment."
Again, he nods, and offers the seeds to her. Just like Derek, Lydia's eyes widen when the seeds land in her palm and she feels the emotion pouring from them. She looks from the tiny seeds to Derek to Stiles, her eyes wide. She cradles them for a moment longer and then passes them back to Stiles' waiting palm. All three are quiet as Stiles replants the seeds in the mug, and he looks at the dirt, wondering if anything magical will happen. If it does, it's not obvious straight away.
"I think this is the longest I've seen you be quiet, Stiles," Derek teases.
"You tried to flirt by asking about fish, you be quiet," Lydia mutters at him.
Derek's ears and cheeks go pink, and Stiles looks between them in confusion. "You... you were flirting? With me?" he asks, his gaze settling on Derek.
"I was trying to create conversation, it wasn't flirting! I'm much better at flirting than that."
"Trust me, Stiles; I've seen him in action, that was flirting," Lydia whispers, as if it's a secret between them, and then she smiles at him - his favourite teasing smile that she doesn't bestow on just anyone.
"Lydia," Derek groans and buries his head in his hands.
"Don't worry, Der; I still love you," Lydia teases lightly, her hand resting on his knee.
"It was your idea for the outfits," Derek mutters petulantly, covering her hand with his own.
Lydia shrugs. "If he hadn't been spelled, Stiles would've been all over us, and you know it. Star Wars is your favourite film, isn't it?" she asks, looking at him.
"Yeah, it is. Wait, you mean you really were dressing as Leia and Han?" Stiles asks, starting to grin.
Lydia smirks at Derek triumphantly. "Told you."
"They didn't have a third, it could've gone wrong," Derek argues.
"Oh please, you act as if Han and Chewbacca weren't something. They were joined at the hip!"
"They were friends, nothing more."
"Ooh, we're watching the movies again when we get home, and I'm going to pause at every single part that proves you wrong," Lydia says with a fierce glare.
"So, what, one part?" Derek snorts.
Watching as the two loves of his life argue over Star Wars, Stiles swears he falls in love with them all over again.
"Let me be your third?" Stiles asks in a rush, stopping their argument mid-way.
"Wha... You mean it?" Derek asks, anxious and wide-eyed.
"Of course Stiles means it! Don't you?" Lydia adds, a little hesitantly.
Stiles grins and nods. "I mean it. So, can I be your third?"
"Hell yes," Derek replies, tugging Stiles up to hug him firmly.
Lydia cuddles in beside them, and Stiles can't tell how, but somehow he just knows that behind him, his little seeds have sprouted above the soil.
...
The end.
Thanks for reading!
Note: Mrs. Gawler had to fork out almost $300 in bets to the two Stilinski's; she's refused to let either of them enter the next betting pool. (Peter Hale's back in town and very interested in Christopher and Victoria Argent.)