a/n: in which on your eighteenth birthday you receive your soulmate's name on your wrist, scott was never bitten, derek is dead and stiles is pretty sure a dead werewolf cannot be his soulmate.
for nona, happy sixteenth birthday and sorry this is a little late!
When Stiles wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, his hands are shaking. He twists his body in order to view the time on his alarm clock and curses out loud when he sees that it's half six in the morning. The mark will appear exactly eighteen years after he was born, he's been told by books and teachers and family members. Trust Stiles' luck to have been born at two minutes to midnight. He's woken up in his excitement but there was literally no point in the whole thing because it's a Saturday, he has no plans until the evening and his mark is just under six hours away from appearing. With his Dad and Scott both working this morning, he has nothing to do. Sighing, he rolls over, determined to get back to sleep in order to make the time go faster.
He doesn't get back to sleep.
Five minutes after his idea of trying to fall asleep again he decides that the idea is absolutely worthless, it's not going to happen and that his time would be much better spent searching for a show to marathon on Netflix. Grabbing his laptop, he settles in to a marathon of Supernatural and doesn't move until he absolutely has to piss and grab some coffee (although hopefully not at the same time). As he waits for the kettle to boil he gets a text from Scott indicating that he's free from Deaton and wanting to hang out that has more exclamation marks than Stiles' bin has crumpled tissues. Stiles grins and shoots a text back, planning to meet him later in the afternoon so he does something productive with his birthday other than stare at his wrist in the hope that the name will appear early and marathon tv shows that, in his opinion, kind of went downhill after the fifth season. After his coffee and a bagel Stiles showers, gets dressed and heads out the door, starting to feel slightly nervous about the name of his soulmate appearing later. It's not that he doesn't want a soulmate— he's wanted someone to be with him for years— it's just that he's afraid of who it might be. He knows that soulmates are always a person's perfect match, the one person that will always love them until they die, but he can't help but worry that he will be someone who gets someone fifty years older than him or someone who has never seen Star Wars or someone that he is just fundamentally incompatible with. Logically, he knows that there is nothing to worry about, that soulmates are perfect for you by definition, but he can't stop thinking about all the possible outcomes.
Later, he wonders why the possibility of a name not even appearing on his wrist never crossed his mind. Maybe the worst possibility is always the worst because no one even dares think of it.
When he gets to Scott's house, all worries seem to disappear completely from his mind. Mama McCall has even baked him a cake and seems to sense his worries and keeps the conversation diverted from the mark for the hours that he spends there. When he realises that his Dad is off shift soon he says a quick thank you to both of them, a 'see you later' to Scott and heads home, waiting for his Dad and hoping that he gets some good presents. As soon as he leaves, a worry begins to settle in the back of his mind again. This time, he's not quite sure if it's going to go away.
.
Stiles knows that his Dad is concerned about the party. They both decided that it probably wasn't the best idea for Stiles' party to be held at his house, especially seeing as Stiles has insisted that he doesn't care if he's not twenty-one, he's finding out his soulmate's name and he wants to be drunk as he does so. Instead, it's going to be held at Scott's house and Melissa will be taking refuge elsewhere for the night. He's told his Dad multiple times that, no, he won't drink so much he passes out or vomits (although he's not totally sure on the vomit thing), he'll make sure that the party isn't so loud the cops get called (because that would probably be up there in the 'Top Ten Most Embarrassing Things To Ever Happen To Stiles Stilinski') and he won't let anyone drive home drunk. Before he walks out the door around eight he gives his Dad a one-armed hug, nods at the 'Your mother would be so proud of you.' and gets outside as fast as he can before he starts crying or something. Birthdays are harder than most days because his Dad always gives him that line and it sort of makes him happy and sad at the same time and although he appreciates it he doesn't know whether it hurts or helps him more.
Scott's outside ready to give him a lift and he climbs in the car and pretends that he doesn't want to look back at the house and just spend the night with his Dad. Then he realises that even that is a pretence in itself: he just wishes he could see his Mom on his birthday.
.
Stiles wouldn't exactly describe himself as popular, but he's definitely not the nerd he was three years ago. It's a mixture of Scott dating Allison and Stiles somehow becoming friends with Danny and Lydia and, by extent, Jackson, that has brought the two higher up the social ladder. To whatever measure Stiles is popular, there are definitely a lot of people filling up Scott's house and Stiles is extremely glad it's not being held at the Stilinski home because every single second Scott is panicking about something possibly getting broken. Stiles has been patted on the back more times than he thinks strictly necessary and he's beginning to wish it would just be two minutes to midnight already so that he can see his mark and maybe even know the person and find them straight away. A few years ago, he had wished for Lydia to be his soulmate. The idea is now laughable. She's one of his best friends and kissing her would be like kissing Scott; neither of which he wants to do. A while ago he had entertained the idea of Danny becoming his soulmate but when Isaac's name became evident on the boy's wrist, Stiles had realised that it wasn't even what he wanted in the first place; Danny had just been the only out gay guy Stiles knew of at the time.
To be honest, despite the idea that it would be great if his soulmate were someone he already knew and therefore easy to find, Stiles kind of likes the idea of a challenge, like in all the films he sees. Although unlikely, his soulmate could live in Australia or Antarctica or Sweden or Burkina Faso. They might not speak the same language. Although tricky, it's the kind of romance that Stiles pretends he hates but really has a huge soft spot for. Maybe he'll have to take a road trip to find the guy or girl he's searching for. There's always the possibility of an age gap too. He may have to wait some years until his soulmate turns eighteen and wait for them to find him, instead of the other way round. To be honest, he doesn't want to wait to have to find his soulmate. He wants a quest, but he kind of wants them there for him too. It's nothing he could say aloud because everyone would just ridicule him for being a hopeless romantic and tonight all he wants to do is get pissed and find a beautiful name tattoo itself across his wrist.
It's funny how many soulmate couples Stiles sees around him: Scott has found Allison and the two of them are snogging in a corner. Although Scott isn't eighteen yet, Allison found Scott's name on her wrist just over a month ago and neither had seen the point in waiting for the name to appear for him. There's Jackson and Lydia, which Stiles still doesn't quite understand, and Danny and Isaac sending covert looks at each other because Isaac hasn't turned eighteen yet and Danny is a traditionalist but everyone knows that all the two want is to get together already. Erica and Boyd lurk in the corner, Boyd's eyes scanning the crowd for those that leer at Erica in her short skirt and Erica whispering in her soulmate's ear words that no one can make out but Stiles is sure that she's reassuring him. Not for the first time, it strikes Stiles how almost everyone seems to have someone and he's just sort of… there. Tonight, though, it could all change. He just hopes his soulmate is already out there, staring at their tattoo and waiting for Stiles as eagerly as he is waiting for them. He surrounds himself with friends and dances, shouts and laughs and keeps peeking at his wrist, knowing that this is the last time he will see it bare.
When it gets to five to midnight, Scott turns off the music. Whispering begins in the room and all eyes turn to Stiles. He realises that they're all waiting for something to be said and so he allows Lydia to help him up onto a table, stumbling slightly, and hopes that he leaves no noticeable marks before beginning.
"Uh… hey." Stiles is pretty sure that that isn't the best way to start any speech. "I have three minutes so I'll make it quick. Thanks for being here." he says, looking round at all his friends and sending a glare at Jackson who is fake snoring and leaning against a wall. "Thanks for not completely wrecking Scott's house and for not getting the cops called on us, because that would have been awkward." A pause. There's a laugh from the crowd but Stiles is sure that's more about the fact that almost everyone there is pissed out of their minds than the fact that it's funny. "If my soulmate is here and you find out when the name appears you have my full permission to, uh, drag me upstairs."
He raises a shot glass pressed into his hand by Lydia and downs it, really hoping that he can get down from the table in some sort of dignified way. "Time check?" he calls out.
"Three minutes to." Lydia says from his shoulder.
Stiles braces himself, knowing that there's only one minute to go. Scott is standing next to the table, smiling up at him. Erica raises an eyebrow at him and Danny and Isaac raise their glasses at him across the room. Across the room, a chant starts up, Stiles standing on the table, heart beating so painfully fast that it feels as though it's about to fly out of his chest.
"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six..." The chant goes on and Stiles can feel his legs shaking. He raises his wrist up, staring at it intently, not caring at all how he looks, even as cameras go off and he smiles nervously towards them. "Five, four, three, two, one!"
Stiles has been told that it hurts slightly as the tattoo makes its way across your skin, but he feels absolutely nothing. The room is silent, staring his way. Everything seems to move in slow motion, Scott moving his head to look up at Stiles, everyone staring towards him, waiting for him to call out a name. Stiles wants to call out a name with all of his being, he wants to party with his classmates and friends because he's eighteen and a tattoo should be on his wrist with someone's name on it. But there is nothing there. As always, as it has been for eighteen years, his wrist is merely a blank slate. Stiles is beginning to worry that it will remain that way forever.
As time passes, it becomes evident what is happening.
"Dude, what does it say?" Scott asks, sounding concerned.
"Nothing." he says quietly. "Nothing." he says louder, not caring about keeping it a secret. Everyone will find out sooner or later.
He stares at his blank wrist and gets down from the table, almost dropping to his knees but instead heads of the front door and begins walking, ignoring the calls from his friends and trying to ignore the salty sting of tears already making their way down his face.
.
It doesn't take long for Scott to catch up with him. It's cold and he's drunk and both of those things impact his ability to walk fast and so, with Scott running behind him, it doesn't take long for him to catch up. Stiles is alerted to Scott's presence by the sound of his heavy breathing.
"Dude, inhaler." Stiles says, not even looking over his shoulder. "You having an asthma attack because of me would really not improve my night."
He keeps walking as Scott inhales deeply, his friend a few steps behind him.
"Will you at least talk to me?" Scott asks.
"What's there to talk about?" Stiles fires at him, stopping on the spot and turning to face his friend. "Unlike every other eighteen and over person in the world, I haven't got a mark on my wrist. I've been looking forwards to this for years and I get absolutely nothing." He raises his wrist and shows it to Scott. "Nothing. I don't want to talk to you right now because you have Allison and you're not ever going to know how this feels." He cuts himself off before he says something horrible to Scott that he regrets.
"Can I at least walk you home?" Scott asks.
"Yeah." Stiles says, figuring that he's drunk enough that it's probably safer for Scott to be with him.
The two of them walk home in silence and Stiles hardly acknowledges his friend as he walks inside of his house. His Dad is sitting at the kitchen table, waiting up for his son. At the look on his son's face he sweeps across the room and grabs his wrist.
"Nothing." Stiles says. "Dad, I don't have anyone."
His attempt to hold back his sobs is worthless and he allows his Dad to hug him and even though it doesn't help the situation at all, he feels less alone. When they finally tear apart, his Dad stares at him with a kind of acknowledgement and empathy in his eyes.
"I know that you probably don't want to talk to anyone right now, but I'm always here, okay?" Sheriff Stilinski tells him. "I lost your Mom and although I don't know much about this particular situation, I know what it's like to be without your soulmate."
Stiles wants to yell at him, tell him that he's not even without his soulmate, it's just that he doesn't have one, but he doesn't have the energy anymore. He takes one last look at his Dad before forcing a smile onto his face and walking up the stairs, determined to throw himself onto his bed and cry until he passes out or something. He suddenly regrets getting drunk because now each emotion is so much more defined and he's so much less in control of absolutely everything.
"Love you, Stiles." the Sheriff calls up the stairs.
"Thanks, Dad." Stiles yells back, walking into his room and then slamming the door shut and staring at what he sees.
There is a man sitting on his bed.
.
As if the fact that a man is sitting on Stiles' bed wasn't shocking enough, this man is also stunningly attractive. He looks like he's come straight out of some men's underwear catalogue or maybe even a porno and Stiles can't tear his eyes away. As well as attractive, he's also quite menacing and for a moment Stiles wonders if the man is going to leap off the bed and brutally murder him. He has dark hair and just the right amount of stubble and if Stiles had to describe him the words 'the world's most attractive serial killer' would probably come into mind.
"Uh, hi?" Stiles says, realising that the man has not acknowledged his existence.
The man looks up, seemingly unperturbed by Stiles' appearance. "Hi."
Stiles just stares at the man, wondering why he has made no reference to the fact that he is a complete stranger and sitting on his bed. "Not to be awkward or anything, but why are you sitting in my bed?"
"I'm your soulmate." is the response that Stiles gets.
Quite honestly, the words feel like a stab to the gut for Stiles. It's hard enough to have just found out in a room full of his friends that he doesn't have a soulmate, harder still for a guy he never knows to have already found out and seemingly there to make fun of him.
"I don't have a soulmate." Stiles says, showing his bare wrist to the man.
"Oh." the man says. "I'm dead."
Stiles stares at the man in complete shock. "My soulmate is dead?"
The man stares at him as though he's stupid. "Yes, idiot, I'm dead and I'm your soulmate, both of which I have mentioned and both of which make it the truth that your soulmate is dead."
Stiles glares at the man. "No offence, but how are you meant to be my soulmate if you're dead? Like…" he trails off, not wanting to say what he's thinking aloud.
"You can't fuck a ghost?" the man puts forwards in a mock-helpful way.
"Exactly. Also, how can I be sure you're my soulmate?"
The man beckons him closer and, against his better judgement, Stiles comes and sits down next to the man on the bed. His leg touches the man's leg and he feels absolutely nothing.
"Dude, I can't even touch you!" Stiles says in awe. "You really are a ghost."
The man shuts him up by showing him his wrist. Written across it in Stiles' handwriting is a name that Stiles has tried for years to pretend he doesn't have, followed by the name 'Stilinski'.
"You can call me Stiles." Stiles tells the man. "Like, seriously, if you use that name I will decapitate you. But who are you?"
"Derek Hale." comes the immediate reply.
The name rings a bell and a flash of recognition crosses Stiles' face which obviously does not go unnoticed by Derek. The man shrugs. "Google it. You'll have heard of me."
Stiles grabs his laptop and tries to ignore Derek's judging eyes as he sees a paused Supernatural episode on his screen. He goes to Google and types in the name. The first thing that comes up is an article about an ex-marine called Derek Hale and he turns to the man, an expectant look upon his face but Derek just shakes his head.
"Try putting in Beacon Hills after it." Derek suggests.
When the results come up, Stiles just stares at his screen, unable to look at Derek.
"The Hale Fire." he whispers. "You died in there?"
"No." Derek tells him quickly. "My whole family did."
"I'm so sorry." Stiles says. The question on the tip of his tongue ('Then how did you die?') refuses to come out. Stiles knows it would be completely insensitive to ask it now and all he wants to do is to put his arm around Derek or hug him but whenever he leans towards the man he remembers that he will literally go straight through him and he can't imagine that being a pleasant experience for either of them.
"I was shot a few years later." Derek says. "Wolfsbane bullet."
"I'm sorry, what?" Stiles asks, mind whizzing and leading him down paths that he really doesn't want to go down.
"I didn't mention, did I?" Derek asks. "I'm a werewolf."
"There is literally a dead werewolf sitting on my bed." Stiles groans. "I feel like this is a metaphor for my life somehow."
"I can leave…" Derek says, raising an eyebrow.
"No, don't do that." Stiles says. "Uh, would you like to explain to me about werewolves?"
"Not particularly." Derek deadpans. Stiles stares at him. "But I will anyway."
.
Just under an hour later, Stiles knows everything he needs to know. It's strange thinking it over in his head because he's just coming to terms with the fact that a) his soulmate is a werewolf, b) his soulmate is a dead werewolf and c) his soulmate wants him to bring him back to life. The last part is the thing that scares him the most and he replays the conversation in his mind.
"No offence, but how are we supposed to be together if you're, you know, dead?" Stiles asks.
"You're going to bring me back to life." Derek says, as though stating the obvious.
"Oh, of course." Stiles says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "May I ask exactly how we're going to do that?"
"You're going to have to talk to my Uncle." Derek sighs. The expression crossing the werewolf's face doesn't really make Stiles happy about the idea.
Stiles stares at the werewolf and internally groans. "I'm getting the feeling that you don't like your Uncle very much and that I won't either. Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"No." Derek says. "But do you really want to live the rest of your life alone?"
The words sting and a flash of hurt crosses Stiles face. It's not his fault that his soulmate is dead, not his fault that no mark appeared on his wrist. He suddenly feels intense anger towards the man and simply glares at him, not having the words to express how he's feeling.
"I'm sorry." Derek says. "I have to go now."
Stiles turns to stare at the ghost-werewolf. "You can't leave me now." he says. "You literally just told me I'm bringing you back to life and that your Uncle is a douche and I will hate him and that it's not a good idea and I'm kind of freaking out now."
He can feel his breathing beginning to be unsteady and he can feel a panic attack coming on. He tries to deepen his breathing, do anything to stop panicking because he's pretty sure there is nothing a dead werewolf can do to help him and that leaves his Dad and if Sheriff Stilinski worries about Stiles any more than he already does Stiles will probably never leave the house again.
"It's going to be okay." Derek says, floating through Stiles and spreading warmth through him, restoring his breathing and leaving the boy completely shocked, but breathing. By the time Stiles has recovered enough to see, Derek has gone.
He focuses on his breathing and doesn't really think about falling asleep until he wakes the next morning to his Dad's head round the door and he realises that the sympathetic smile he's receiving is not the first and will definitely not be the last.
a/n: if you enjoyed i'd love it if you would drop a review by! next chapter will hopefully be up sometime next week