Title: Don't Believe in Miracles (Serendipity)

Rating: M

Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Author's Note: Written with Erin's permission, based on a drabble named simply "Serendipity" posted on her tumblr account erinpond post/46126694742/serendipity and on ao3 at /works/732950/chapters/1362257. Some of the dialogue/descriptive language is taken directly from said drabble. But again, this was written with her explicit permission, and I'm giving her full credit for her words/idea.

Summary: There was something wrong. Something seriously wrong. Good things didn't happen this often to him and this out of the blue.

He had found a $20 bill on the sidewalk. The restaurant he had dinner at with his dad at gave him free dessert. His Jeep had managed to make it to the gas station even though it was practically on empty. He got an A on his Chemistry test. And Derek was kissing him.

Chapter 1 – The Dreaming

He probably should have caught on faster. Figured it out sooner. But Stiles liked that good stuff kept happening to him. In his 18 years not that much truly great stuff had ever happened to him, and he'd honestly had more than his fair share of the really awful stuff. Between his mom's early death, his dad's job and poor health, his own ADHD induced social outcast status, Stiles has never gotten what he wanted. Not out of anything. Not from anyone.

Case in point: Lydia Martin. Stiles has loved her, wanted her, for literally years; for most of his childhood and all of his adolescence. His feelings for her were never going to go away. Not completely. He'd come to accept that they were also never going to be returned. He'd mostly moved on, in the only way that someone who had spent 7 years being completely obsessed can move on. He'd stopped following her around like a love sick puppy and instead turned his affections toward someone else. Someone who was, of course, equally unattainable. He was now crushing hard on Derek, and that crush was never going to lead anywhere. Ever.

Everything else could have been explained away as just a lucky day. But not this. Not Derek. It was a testament to how badly Stiles wanted him, how desperate he was to be wanted in return that he'd let it go on as long as he had.

Good things didn't happen this often to him and never this out of the blue. He'd found a $20 bill on the sidewalk. The restaurant where he'd had lunch with his dad, had given him free dessert. His jeep managed to make it all the way to the gas station on practically empty. He'd gotten an A on his Chem test. And those were all perfectly plausible, extraordinarily good lucky day happenings. But not this. Not Derek kissing him.

Derek Hale was kissing him, holding him close, and holy shit he was just standing there frozen. He should really do something. So he did, bringing his arms up around the older man and kissing him back as best he knew how. He wasn't even entirely sure how this had happened. One second they were just talking and the next Derek was kissing him like the world was about to end.

"Well that was a surprise," Stiles mumbled against Derek's lips once they'd parted.

"Hopefully a good one," Derek said, smiling. And Stiles had decided instantly that he could seriously look at this particular smile forever.

"Definitely a good one," Stiles had answered, only to be silenced by Derek's mouth descending on his again and then again.

The thing about being kissed by Derek was how good it felt. It was amazing, he was amazing, and it had the incomprehensible ability to shut off Stiles' brain like very little else could. That should have been the second clue. Because if Stiles thought about it, kissing Derek should have sped everything up, not slowed it down. It should have sent his mind into overdrive. Making him think about what would come after kissing. But the touching and the grinding and the coming that should have been on his teenage mind never manifested. He just sank down against Derek's chest, hands gripping soft dark cotton tight and moaned little breathy moans whenever Derek's lips pulled away from his long enough to let him breathe.

"Stiles," Derek said, hands coming up to cradle the back of Stiles' head. "Stiles, I love you," Derek whispered, that same smile spreading across his face again, only this time accompanied by pinked cheeks and a wet mouth. Stiles had surged up against him, pressing closer, and kissing him hungrily. This was what he'd wanted for months. For Derek to want him back. For Derek to admit it, to make a move, to love him like he wanted to be loved. This was a revelation. A dream come true. A miracle.

Only Stiles didn't believe in miracles. He'd stopped believing in them the day his mother died, frail and broken in a hospital bed. He'd prayed every day and every night for months that she would get better, sure that somehow she'd heal and come home again. That a miracle would happen and he wouldn't lose her. But that hadn't happened. She'd died. And he'd known then that miracles didn't happen. The last two years had certainly reinforced that belief. And this is what wakes Stiles up. He sits back, pulling his mouth reluctantly away from Derek's.

"You love me?" he asks, sounding young and even to his own ears, scared.

"Yes, of course I do," Derek replied, sliding one hand down Stiles' back to rest on his hip, tugging him closer. "Kiss me," he demanded, ducking his head back toward Stiles'.

"Why?" Stiles asked, pushing away from him enough to avoid the kiss. Derek blinked at him, a quizzical expression spreading across his face, thick eyebrows drawing together.

"What do you mean? Why? You're a good kisser!" Derek laughed then, bright and happy. Like Stiles had never heard him laugh before.

"No. Why do you love me? You didn't before."

"Of course I did. I have for a while. I love you because… I love you. I'm in love with you. What else is there to say?" Derek asked. Stiles eyed him suspiciously, taking in every detail from his perfectly styled hair, to impossible ever-changing eyes and scruffy beard. The scruffy beard that Stiles hadn't even felt when they'd kissed. He reaches up to touch the side of Derek's face, sees, feels the rough hair there, tries to ignore how Derek turns into his hand, pressing a kiss to the palm of Stiles' hand.

Panic starts to set in, his heart rate increasing with a sudden shot of fear. Reaching up with his other hand, Stiles touches his lips. Lips that he knows should probably be puffy, the skin around them red and tender with beard burn. But his lips feel normal, his chin and cheeks perfectly fine. He pulls his hand out of Derek's grip, pushing away from him completely.

"Who are you?" he asks. Derek looks at him in surprise, confusion plain on his face.

"I'm Derek, the guy who's in love with you. Who else would I be?" Derek asks. Stiles turns away from him, looking out the window of the Camaro, eyes darting from person to person walking down the street enjoying the perfect spring sunshine. And all of them much too familiar. His first grade teacher Ms. Mays, the nurse who'd wrapped his ankle that one time he'd nearly broken it when he was eight, the man who ran the local deli, Mr. Porter the mailman, Scott's Dad. Scott's Dad? The man who'd disappeared six years before and hadn't shown himself since?

"What is this place?" he asks. He reaches for the handle, yanking on it hard, and pushing the door open. He launches himself out of the car, too fast to be caught by Derek's grabbing hand. That should have been clue number three. It's only once the sun is beating down on him that he remembers that it's supposed to be January.

"This isn't real! None of this is real! Let me go!" he shouts, staring up at the cloudless sky. "NOW!" he screams. Everything goes dark.