Feed the Chaos
The group had finally parted ways for the night, drifting out of Scott's house with slumped shoulders and swollen eyes, and not so much as a "good night" between them.
They were running out of time and they all knew it. Whatever the Nogitsune had planned, Allison would just be the start of the casualties if it had its way. Murder might not be its objective, but chaos and death tended to run together.
They'd learned that tonight.
Scott's phone rang sharply in the silence of the living room, making Stiles jump and jerk awake on the couch. He'd been falling in and out of consciousness all night, and Scott's mom had suggested he stay close to her just in case. They weren't sure she'd be able to do anything for his magical illness, but it felt safer to keep him near a registered nurse instead of at his house alone while his dad scoured the town for Nogitsune sightings.
Scott didn't seem to hear the ringing, staring out the window with sightless eyes. It wasn't until Stiles groaned and made a flailing gesture for the phone (nearly falling off the couch in the process) that he reacted, bracing Stiles' shoulder with one hand and grabbing for the phone with the other.
He grimaced.
"It's Derek."
The older wolf hadn't been by Scott's house all night, off dealing with something or other concerning the twins.
Stiles "mmmed" vaguely, obviously barely conscious.
"Does he know about…?"
About Lydia being safe? About Allison being gone? Scott didn't know, and he really wasn't in the mood to play messenger. He didn't want to think or talk or deal with anything, and considered ignoring the call altogether.
But a drowsy half-smile had slipped onto Stiles' face.
"Say hey to Broody Brows for me, 'kay? Haven't had a chance to… being all Dark Side and all."
It was a stupid reason to answer, but how could Scott deny his friend anything after all he'd been through? He sighed, hit "accept," and put the phone to his ear.
"Scott!"
Derek's voice was sharp, frantic, and Scott was immediately on alert. This wasn't just a check in. Derek wasn't the type to sound panicked for no reason. It was hard to make Derek sound panicked at all.
"Mmm here too…" Stiles mumbled, words half-swallowed by his pillow.
A heavy breath came over the line, like Derek had been running, or fighting. Or was injured.
"Derek, I'm here. What's going on?"
"Mmph hrr too…"
Scott shot Stiles a look, but his friend was completely out of it, face almost totally buried in the pillow.
"I found him." Derek's breaths were still ragged. "Or… he found me. I don't know. He came out of nowhere, and the damn Oni have switched sides for some reason…"
Scott grimaced. Ok, he should've warned Derek about that. Someone should have thought to.
"Yeah, Derek… about that…"
He heard a sharp sound, like a sniff, and then Derek was growling: "He's here."
Ok, definitely not good.
"Here where? Derek, where are you? I'll come help."
But it didn't seem like Derek was listening. After a strained pause his voice came again, but it was more distant, like he'd moved the phone well away from his mouth.
"I know you're here... No use in playing games, trickster. I can smell you."
"Derek, where are you?" Scott pressed the phone closer to his ear, like that would somehow give him more information. Like trying to see more on a TV screen by leaning to the right and the left, peering at the edges. Hopeless.
"And what do I smell like, Derek?" The voice, so familiar but so wrong, had Scott reflexively glancing to the couch to make sure Stiles was still there. Through the phone, a faint laugh, and the sound of feet scraping across a hard floor: Derek swiveling, searching out the source of the sound.
Then Derek's voice again, speaking back into the phone, sharp and rushed.
"Scott, I'll try holding him off. We're at th—aagh!" A roar of pain made Scott fumble the phone. Stiles' eyes fluttered, expression twisting into a grimace.
Derek was still groaning by the time Scott got the phone back to his ear, but the sound was muffled, like another hand was grabbing over the receiver.
"Oh, we don't need any company, do we, Derek? I already had a lot of fun with the others earlier tonight," and there was so much glee in his tone that Scott knew he was being addressed as much as Derek was. "So much delicious chaos. But you had to go and miss it." There was the sound of something snapping, and Derek bit down on a curse. "But don't worry. We'll make up for lost time. Bye bye, Scotty."
"Wait!"
Another shout was wrenched from Derek, and a deafening clatter as the phone was tossed away. Scott waited, breathless, for the line to go dead.
But it didn't.
There was a moment of dead air, and Scott was lowering the phone shakily from his ear, but then…
"That's better, isn't it?" Not-Stiles' voice came drifting over the line, light and playful. "And now that it's just you and me, I'll confess: I've been feeling like we need to catch up."
A ragged growl confirmed that Derek was still breathing.
"If it was just you and me, you wouldn't be standing right now."
Scott frowned. Did Derek realize he was still on the line? But then there was the sound of steel sliding across a sheathe and he realized – right, the Oni. This wasn't just a matter of Derek versus the Nogitsune, like that wouldn't be bad enough. The beta wolf was way outnumbered in a fight.
"Ooh, jumping right into the foreplay today, are we?" The Nogitsune's words were careless, sarcastic, sounding so much like Stiles that Scott found his lips starting to twitch before he realized what he was doing. "Don't mind my little smoke soldiers. They're literally made from knives that have been chopped from a fox's tail. Oh, and fireflies. No offense my little magic army here, but they're about as sentient as a set of desk lamps. It's just you and me here, Derek."
"Desk lamps don't impale people with swords," Derek spat, and Scott's mental image of Derek kneeling in front of the Nogitsune, flanked on all sides by blade-bearing warriors, bled into the memory of Allison impaled, falling. Gone.
The Nogitsune chuckled, thoughts clearly following the same line, and the phone nearly crumpled in Scott's grip before he got control of himself.
"But what's a little impalement between friends, right Derek? I mean… slamming people into walls, bashing heads into steering wheels… our relationship's always been right at the edge of S & M territory anyway."
There was a short, startled pause – startled on Scott's end, anyway. When Derek answered, he sounded positively enraged.
"Stop talking like you're him."
"Oh, but I am him, Derek. I lived inside his head for weeks. I know every thought, fear and fantasy he ever had. I took his knowledge and experience and chaos to supplement my own. And there is just so much delicious chaos running through his teenage brain." A slow, shuddering breath – Scott couldn't work out from whom – and the Nogitsune must have ducked in close to Derek because it was whispering, barely audible: "And you… your instincts are so conflicted every day, aren't they? Head and heart, hope and fear. Lust and loathing. Is there anything inside you, Derek, that isn't pure chaos?"
Part of Scott thought he probably shouldn't be listening to this. Creepy, weird voyeurism issues aside, he needed to be doing something to help Derek, not just standing here listening at the wrong end of a phone. But if he hung up, he'd lose the chance to hear any hints about where they were. He could go out looking for Derek, try to pick up a scent, but they'd tried that before when Stiles had gone missing. They'd done everything before when Stiles had gone missing. Searched the whole town for hours and not been able to find him.
He could shout to Derek, try to get him to tell where he was again, but then the Nogitsune would know he was listening and smash the phone, and make sure it was broken this time.
He wasn't going to lose anyone else. Not now. Not tonight.
But he didn't know what to do.
Derek, meanwhile, let out a strained laugh. Seeming even more forced because Derek, generally? Not exactly a laugher.
"So you gonna torture me? Kill me? Or are we just gonna chat?"
There was the sound of movement, of Derek letting out a low, warning growl. But the creature wearing Stiles' face obviously didn't care.
"Oh, you would like me to torture you, wouldn't you? Derek Hale, Beacon Hills' favorite furry punching bag. Beaten up, beaten down, holes torn straight through you… You know how to handle that. I think some sad little part of you actually enjoys it." It paused, and Scott could just picture brows knitting together on the Nogitsune's face, just like Stiles' did when he was working through a complicated puzzle. "No, that's not right. Not 'enjoys' it. But deep down in that tortured wolfy heart… you just think you deserve it, don't you?"
Scott squeezed his eyes shut and seriously considered hanging up. And then Stiles' voice hissed over the line, slow and delighted and utterly sadistic.
"And you're right."
It was the kind of line that always precedes a scream, and Scott tensed for it. His hand even went to the cover the speaker because he seriously did not need Stiles waking up and asking why Derek was whimpering in pain through the phone… not with how guilty he already felt about everything. But the scream didn't come. Instead, there was a soft tutting noise.
"Oh, that's delicious, Derek. That spike of conflict inside you… And all it takes is weak, human Stiles saying you deserve to suffer—"
"You're not Stiles."
"Well, that's even worse, isn't it, Sourwolf? Some stranger with Stiles' face shows up, tells you you're worthless, and just like that the self-loathing comes rushing out? Where's the self confidence, man? The conviction to go with all that werewolf strength? No wonder you didn't last long as Alpha."
Derek snarled, halfheartedly. Stiles was frowning in his sleep.
Scott felt like punching a wall. Of bricks. Repeatedly. With his head.
What was he supposed to do with any of this? The first sound he made, he'd lose his connection to Derek. If he just stood here uselessly, they'd lose Derek altogether. And if the Nogitsune was seriously planning on getting its last power boost by feeding off Derek's emo tendencies… well, it was gonna be ready to wipe Beacon Hills off the map in 20 minutes flat.
Ok, think. How could he do two things at once?
Scott was a pretty confident guy. He understood himself, knew his strengths and weaknesses, and was pretty much ok with them. He was a fighter, a hero type. He'd go diving headfirst into danger if he thought it would help... but he knew he wasn't a strategist. That's why he and Stiles made such a perfect team.
Stiles. Stiles… had a cell phone! He could text someone to help.
"God, you are absolutely vibrating with a desire to kill me. Don't you realize that I'm just trying to help you?"
Derek laughed again, voice pained, and Scott wondered exactly where he'd been impaled, how much blood he was losing. How long it'd be before he passed out.
"Thought you were using me to… feed yourself."
"Well, that too. But there's no reason this can't be mutually beneficial. Think of this as the thousand therapy sessions you really should've had." Scott had crossed the room to Stiles, knelt down over him, and was carefully reaching for the jean pocket where he kept his cell phone. "Come on, Derek, we're pals, right? I've got all these memories, these emotions, bouncing around in here."
"Sounds like you're the one who needs a therapy session."
Derek did scream, then, and Stiles shot up, head almost bashing into Scott's nose. Without Scott's wolf reflexes, it would have. Stiles looked around, panicked and bleary, and opened his mouth before Scott covered it, giving his best "shut up right now, Stiles" face.
Stiles did, eyes wide and locked on Scott's phone.
"Sorry about that. We weren't going to go with the physical torture today, were we? It's just these teenage bodies, you know, and their urges. Sometimes it's hard to keep a handle on them."
Scott motioned frantically to keep silent, then to the phone in Stiles' pocket. Maybe his friend was a little dazed from waking up, because he started reaching for Scott's phone instead. Scott leaned out of reach, shaking his head, but Stiles responded with a classic "shut up and let me work, dummy," expression, and Scott grudgingly handed the phone over.
Stiles hit a few buttons, then held the phone back out to Scott and said loudly:
"Ok, now what the hell's going on?"
Scott could have smacked him. Except it would've been unethical to smack his sickly best friend with werewolf strength, even if he probably had just blown their cover. He snatched the phone and put it back to his ear, but the Nogitsune was still taunting Derek like it hadn't heard anything.
He frowned at Stiles, who sighed at him.
"Uh, dude. Mute button."
Scott moved the phone from his ear, glanced down at the screen.
"Wait… what? Our phones do that?"
"Remember how it felt yesterday, Derek? How freeing it was to just act? To let all the chaos boiling inside of you out?"
"You mean when I almost burned Argent to death?"
Argent. Allison. Allison's eyes sliding shut. Her body going limp in his arms. Scott felt himself shudder, and Stiles' eyes jumped between Scott and the phone.
"What? What's happening? What is it?"
Before Scott could come up with an answer – did he really want Stiles to hear his evil alter ego tormenting Derek? – the other teen had already snatched the phone from his hand, hit a few buttons, and set it down on the coffee table.
"Speakerphone."
"…bad you passed out before that ran its course. It would've been so cathartic, wouldn't it?"
Stiles had gone about five shades paler in the last three seconds.
"What the hell is this?"
"I was about a second from getting my brains blown out."
"Yes… cathartic. Come on, Derek. I know you've thought about it. You're too stubborn to ever do the deed yourself, but there's a reason you keep throwing yourself into all those impossible fights, isn't there?"
"No, no no… Scott, what the hell is this?"
"And you know you're not the only one who's thought it. Come on, Derek, I hardly know you. We've never spoken before tonight. So where do you think all this delicious insight is coming from?"
A long pause, and this time the Nogitsune didn't break it. It seemed content to let its words rattle around in Derek's head until finally, the wolf breathed out: "Stiles."
Scott saw Stiles flinch, his eyes locked on the phone like looking away might be enough to lose the connection.
"There you go, wolf-boy. Everything I know about you, every thought and opinion I have… that comes direct from my helpful former host. Tell me, would you consider Stiles a decent judge of the human condition?" Another pause, and Scott waited for Derek to jump in with a sarcastic remark, a biting insult. He stayed painfully silent. "He doesn't know how you make it from one day to the next, you know. Not with all the awful things you've done. The mistakes you've made… the deaths you caused."
"That's not… I don't…" Stiles' eyes were bright with panic as they darted back up to Scott. "I never meant it like… Scott. What the hell are we doing here? Why are we just listening to this?"
Scott's own nerves were buzzing – from the sight of his friend's panic as much as anything else.
"Right. …I was gonna use your phone. Contact the twins, and…" he trailed off. Isaac? Mr. Argent? He didn't know if he could stomach disturbing them tonight.
Stiles was digging the phone out of his pocket.
"Got it, call everyone. We don't know where he is?" He glanced up long enough for Scott to give a confirming nod. "Alright, we'll get them to sniff him out. He's not possessed, he shouldn't be able to disappear on and off the radar like—"
"Do you think anyone would even miss you? And who can blame them? Everyone who gave a damn about you died seven years ago, and it was all your fault, wasn't it?"
There was a sharp intake of air from Stiles that almost drowned out the shuddering breath from Derek. Stiles' fingers had stopped moving on his own phone. The room was silent except for Derek's distant breaths rattling through the line.
"You know, you're not even on their radar anymore, Derek. Now that you've lost your Alpha status, you're nothing but an afterthought to any of them. They knew about me having the Oni, you know. They were all sitting together chatting about the problem all night. Stiles, Scott. Your new friend, Chris. But not a single one of them bothered to warn you. Face it, Derek. You're not pack to them, you never will be."
And now it was Scott's turn to feel himself turning pale. He sank down into a crouch next to the table, staring hard at the phone to avoid Stiles' eyes.
Because what the Nogitsune was saying, none of it was true… but it wasn't exactly false either, was it? He could blame not warning Derek on being distracted – they'd all been seriously distracted tonight – but that wasn't the real reason. Derek had never been pack the way the rest of the group was. Scott had spent so much time trying to avoid getting absorbed into Derek's pack, trying to avoid being in anyone's pack but his own, he hadn't stopped to think about how the shift in power would – should – affect their dynamic.
Derek had always been someone he called when he needed something. Backup, information. And that hadn't changed once Scott became Alpha. When Erica and Boyd had died, when Isaac had defected to Scott, when it had become his responsibility to look after Derek.
"What's the worst thing in the world for a wolf to be, Derek?"
There was a hitched breath, and when Derek's voice drifted over the line it was faint, wavering, so alien that Scott was halfway convinced there must be a third person there, talking.
"Alone."
Scott couldn't listen. Couldn't just sit there and do nothing while his failures as an Alpha were shoved back in his face. He grabbed the phone from Stiles' limp grip, called up a group text, and started punching out a message.
"Oh, but you're not quite alone, are you? What's that one little spark of hope wriggling in your chest?" Stiles' shoulders jerked reflexively, lips parting and snapping back together so hard his whole jaw rattled. But the Nogitsune was laughing. "Cora? Really, Derek. Cora? Oh, that's so pathetic it's almost pitiable. She didn't come to Beacon Hills looking for you, Derek. She came looking because she'd heard of a Hale Alpha. I bet she was hoping for Laura, don't you? And the second you renounced your Alpha status, she couldn't wait to get away again. I mean, where is she now? She doesn't seem to have come back with you."
"…She's in South America."
The Nogitsune laughed.
"In South America? God, Derek, she went to another country to get away from you? That doesn't exactly scream of sisterly devotion, does it?"
And that was insane. Because Derek was the one who'd brought her back there, he'd told Scott so. He'd made her stay away so she'd be safe. So why wasn't Derek saying any of that? Why was he letting out a faint, pained whimper and jumping on a new thread like it was his last available lifeline?
"I did it to save her. If I'd stayed an Alpha, she would be dead."
The thing that wasn't Stiles laughed again, and the sound of it was so Stiles, so light and careless and casual, it hurt to listen to. Even with the real Stiles sitting less than two feet from him.
"Better dead than an Omega, Derek. Which is exactly what you reduced her to. Reduced you both to."
Derek made a small sound, in between a snarl and a whine. Like a cornered creature trying to look tough as a last resort before it was devoured.
"I thought you only knew what Stiles knows."
"But we're also excellent observers of the human condition. And I can feel the truth rippling inside you, Derek. You agree with every word I'm saying. You just need to get yourself to accept it."
"He's twisting everything…" Stiles muttered. His nails were digging into the leg of his jeans so hard that if he were a wolf he'd be halfway dismembered by now. "That's what he does, Scott. That's what he did inside my head. He did it with Lydia, your mom…"
Scott's mom? But that was a question for another time. Stiles was looking at him frantically, as frantic as he'd been when he came to Scott thinking he was a killer.
"You don't think… he thinks… I think that? I mean, he knows better than that, doesn't he?"
Derek was still breathing unsteadily. Scott wasn't sure how much of the subtler noises Stiles could pick out, but it was definitely enough to make Scott nervous.
As if he wasn't freaking terrified already.
And then all at once, Derek's breaths suddenly steadied.
"I thought you thrived on chaos, trickster. Doesn't 'helping me work through my issues' kind of go against that?"
There was a short pause, and Scott saw Stiles' brows furrowing. Felt his own doing the same.
"So maybe you're right. I have no one. I'm an Omega. My pack left me before I lost my Alpha status. They were so damn desperate to get away from me that they walked straight into the Alpha pack's trap. I've dated two homicidal psychopaths. My uncle would kill anyone, including me, to get ahead, my sister can't stand the sight of me, and the rest of my family's dead. Life sucks, I've known that a long time. So what the hell are you gonna use on me now?"
There was the Derek that Scott knew. The cool tone, the snark. For the first time since Scott had picked up the phone, Derek finally sounded like himself. He felt like giving the air a one-two punch, but Stiles' expression – somewhere between fascinated and absolutely devastated – stopped him.
"Oh, that's good," the Nogitsune murmured. Its voice echoed Stiles' expression… without the devastation thrown in. "That's skill. You use your chaos as fuel, don't you? Of course you do. How else would you have survived this long?"
"So what. The hell. Are gonna use on me?"
"This."
There was a shuffle of movement, but not the grunt of pain Scott was expecting. Instead there was a surprised huff from Derek, the start of an objection before it was swallowed by… something. A gasp of air, clothes rustling faintly, and the distinct sound of two bodies being suddenly crushed against each other. Stiles went tense, and his surprised whine blended strangely with the Nogitsune's satisfied moan.
Moan. Because it was… it and Derek were…
Then Derek made a sound, and that was weirder than anything else so far. It was high, sharp, desperate. Longing. And Scott's eyes flicked to Stiles, prepared to say something about how this was getting strange, how it didn't mean anything, it was just because Derek was lonely or caught off guard, or something like that. But Stiles' cheeks had gone strangely flushed, and his pupils were a little too dilated as he stared down at the phone, and his breaths were coming in too heavily to be normal.
And then there was another sharp sound of movement and Derek's voice, rougher than before, snarled, "What the fuck are you doing?"
The Nogitsune sounded breathless. Sounded like Stiles, sounding breathless.
"Like I said, all these teenage hormones."
Stiles' cheeks were going redder, and Scott was starting to feel a seriously suspicious clenching in his chest because… no way. Stiles was just embarrassed for Derek, right? Because… Scott would know if there was something else going on there.
Derek made a faint noise again, like a warning, but it wasn't nearly as threatening as it should've been. And when the Nogitsune spoke again it was barely words, almost a moan.
"You cause chaos inside of me, Derek. You're the only one who can feed me like this."
Stiles shot to his feet, and paced away from the table so fast that Scott thought he was leaving the room. But he turned at the last second and paced back, hovering at the edge of the table. Literally vibrating with… some kind of emotion.
And it'd be a lot easier for Scott to convince himself it was just anger if he couldn't literally smell his friend's lust.
Beneath the confusion, the general weirded-out-ness of listening to a demon fox with Stiles' voice come on to Derek, Scott started to feel angry… and guilty. Why wouldn't Stiles tell him about this? Didn't he trust him? Did Scott give off the impression he wasn't trustworthy, or understanding, or… He told Stiles everything. About Allison, about his wolf problems, about Kira. Did Stiles think he was a worse friend? Why wouldn't he ever mention something this huge?
"Stop it." Derek tried to snap the words, but his voice shook.
"I can't, Derek. I can't stop. I want this too badly."
Derek let out a wild noise, the kind someone makes when they can't hold it in.
"You're not him…"
"Do you want me to be?"
"No!"
It came out fast and harsh. From his place at the edge of the table, Stiles flinched. And the guilty frustration worked through Scott again.
"Good," Stiles' voice – not-Stiles' voice – growled out, low and muffled, like it was being spoken against something. A shoulder, a throat. "Because I don't want to share."
There was a quick shuffle of movement again, and Scott hated not seeing what was going on. And then he got a mental picture of what might be going on, which was worse. And then Derek snapped.
"You're pretty confident for a 'chaotic teenager'."
When the Nogitsune spoke up again, it sounded decidedly frustrated. Score one point for Derek. He must have shoved it away.
"Chaotic teenage urges. But the mind of a fox. And I've got the distinct advantage of feeling what you're feeling. Your personal chaos ramps up every time I come near you." The anger was gone from the voice as fast as it had come. Suddenly soft again, predatorial. Scott could picture the creature circling Derek, stalking around him. Except the creature had Stiles' face, and the idea of Stiles stalking was just too bizarre to imagine.
"Do you know anything about foxes, Derek? Our habits, our customs? We don't have packs like wolves, but we don't travel alone either. We search the world until we find one perfect mate."
Stiles was blinking quickly, head shaking in odd, startled twitches.
"We… um. We need to…"
"Foxes and wolves don't exactly get along."
"Oh come on, Derek. Don't tell me you didn't grow up on Disney." Stiles let out a short, nervous laugh, probably picturing Derek as a big-eared cartoon dog. Or maybe picturing something totally different. Scott obviously didn't know his friend as well as he'd thought. "Besides, remember how I thrive on chaos? I love a little conflict."
Derek breathed something, a curse. And then there was a strange, wet, sliding sound, and Derek grunted again. A clatter of metal on concrete.
"There we go. I guess this whole propositioning might go a little better if you're not impaled."
Derek snarled.
"I'm gonna heal in thirty seconds and then I'm gonna rip out your spleen."
"You won't. You want to, but you won't. Because you know, deep down, that you don't want to be alone. And I have the perfect solution."
There was the sound of a kiss – that was definitely a kiss – and Derek growling again.
"You're a psychotic killer."
"I'm a psychotic trickster. Anyway, you've had psychopaths before. I think you might actually prefer us."
And now it was Stiles – real Stiles – who made a faint whining noise in his throat. Scott shot him a look (it was hard to look at him suddenly, knowing there were who knows how many secrets between them) and saw that he looked a strange mix of hopeful and nauseous.
"Are they actually arguing the logistics of this?"
"Do you want them to be?" Scott snapped. And immediately regretted it at the wounded, deer-in-headlights look Stiles shot him.
It's not that Scott cared (did Stiles think he'd be the type of person to care?) but then… of course he cared, because it was Derek.
Couldn't Stiles like Danny, or some inappropriate professor, or something like that? Really, Derek?
"Scott, it's not like… he twists things. You know he twists things."
"But he's not twisting this, is he?"
Scott was almost shaking – guilt, anger, guilt, confusion, hurt… Why hadn't Stiles wanted to tell him? Why hadn't Scott ever noticed? There had to have been signs, right? Signs that Scott had just shrugged off or read completely wrong. But he shouldn't have had to read them right. Stiles should have told him.
"Come on, Derek. I thought you were all about accepting things today. You can have me. We can have this. Come on. Touch me… and fuel the chaos inside me." He paused… and Stiles eyes were squeezed shut now, hiding from the world or the words or even just Scott. "Or don't, and feed me with the chaos inside yourself."
Wait… that was it.
Scott reached out, hit a button, and ended the call.
Stiles' eyes shot open, looking nervous for a second, then angry.
"Scott, what the hell?"
"He knew we were listening."
Scott didn't know how, but he knew he was right. Whether the phone had been facing up but out of Derek's eyeline, or the Nogitsune could just sense their emotions even from this far away. Honestly, he was betting on the latter, because…
"It wasn't just trying to rile Derek up. The things it chose to taunt him with... I mean, it could've focused on anything. On Laura's death or Jennifer or... Paige, but what did it talk about? How I've been a crappy Alpha, and how you…"
Stiles' mouth thinned out. Then he nodded.
"It was feeding on the chaos from all three of us."
"From riling us all up," Scott confirmed.
"From turning us against each other."
Stiles was looking away, his hands clenching and releasing. He looked ready to shrink into a corner, or run. Scott took a breath and, with an effort of will, forced his own feelings aside.
"I'm not against you, Stiles. I'm… frustrated that you thought I would be."
Stiles blinked back at him – confused, and then guilty.
"Man, it's not that. I'm just… I don't even want to think about it, you know? It's Derek. Mr. Broody, Inscrutable Sourwolf. Who's had multiple, hot-if-evil girlfriends. I mean, it's not like anything was ever gonna happen. I just…" he grimaced, head shaking. "Thought it'd be better to try and forget about it."
Scott fought a grimace, not wanting to give his friend the wrong impression again. The idea of his best friend subjecting himself to getting emotionally involved with someone as emotionally stunted as Derek…
But it wasn't about what Scott wanted. And he had to let Stiles know things were ok between them.
"Well… it sounds like it's more possible than you thought."
He knew it was the right thing to say when Stiles grinned, eyes lighting up and smile getting so wide Scott thought he must've been holding it in for the past five minutes.
The Nogitsune probably wasn't happy right now, because Scott wasn't seeing any more emotional chaos anywhere around Stiles.
"Right? I mean… right? Dude, he feels chaotic every time I get near him. I just… I don't really know how to process this information."
Scott snorted.
"You know, if you ever say any of this around Derek, he will rip your spleen out."
"Oh, I know. I'm just gonna let it float around in my head for a while. Savor it. And possibly write it down. And frame it. And put it on our nightstand when we move in together."
"Too much information, man."
Stiles started laughing, and Scott joined right in with him. It lasted a good twenty seconds, and probably woke up his mom, but he was sure that each moment was like digging a dagger straight into the Nogitsune's chaos-loving chest.
When they finally calmed down, Stiles' face sobered fast. He flashed Scott one more quick, nervous smile before that bled away too.
"He's still in serious trouble, isn't he?"
Scott nodded, starting to feel shaky himself. He'd never wanted to see Derek get hurt in general, but the idea stabbed into him harder now that he wasn't just Derek. He was Stiles' Derek. The guy his best friend loved. The way Scott had loved Allison.
He wasn't going to let Stiles go through that too.
"Yeah, but we're gonna get him out of it. Come on, ok? Let's go save your future boyfriend."
.-
Fin
.-
A/N: I might post a second chapter from Derek or the Nogitsune's POV, starting where the phone call left off. Let me know if you'd like to read more!
And in the meantime, head over to the companion piece, "Taste the Chaos", if you want to see the scene from Derek's point of view. It's a little darker (no Scott or Stiles banter to lighten that piece up).