Theirs
They are like opposites. Fire and gleed, the explosion and the case that holds it in.
Derek never talks without having to, he never moves until he's certain where he wants to go, and he never acts until he's sure that's the right thing to do.
Stiles can't keep quiet to save his life, he's constantly moving with nowhere in mind, he always has to be doing something because he can't stay still.
And yet, Derek is intensity, gleed burning bright even if the fire that left it behind is gone. Everything he does has a purpose; every single action has a weight that drags everyone around him with it.
And Stiles is light, like wind, carrying things in its wake, without meaning to. As if he's just passing through, always, here in a second and gone in the next, moving constantly from obsession to obsession, thought to thought, so fast that not even his ability to talk non-stop can keep up.
And as all opposites, they attract.
There's no balance in the way they kiss, and it wonders everyone around them how they can make it work. It makes the Sheriff suspicious and yet glad when he sees he's not the only one there to ground Stiles to reality. It makes Scott think there's something wrong with it, because Stiles smiles at the weirdest times when Derek looks at him, face closed off and impassive, and yet, for Stiles, it's like he is saying something without words.
It makes Peter wonder how Derek hasn't suffocated Stiles yet, and it makes Lydia jealous, because Stiles is been in love with her for a decade, and she never managed to make him quiet.
Silent.
There's no in-between with both of them. They are wind and storm, ember and flame – the one who waits and the one who cannot wait. They don't complete the other – they are complete on their own -, but they complement the other in ways no one thought possible. They see what the other needs and they give it without having to be asked, what may be the cause of their working so well, because none of them would ever ask for anything: they don't think they are entitled to do that.
They are alone and lonely until they find each other in this twisted way – this relationship based on smirks and full on smiles at nothing; starting with shoves and threats and hatred and moving on to want and need and despair for the other.
A necessity to be closer and more and harder and there and never stop.
It's not love – or maybe it is, they wouldn't know it, because they can't quite grasp what that is like -, but it's theirs.
They can have it, and they don't even have to work for it.
They have it.
It's theirs.
And as different as they are, they are never, ever, letting it go, for anything or anyone.
They'll set fire to the world and spread it in the wind if they have to.
No idea whatsoever where this came from.
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