Hello! This is my first Sterek short to post. I watched the music video , Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran. I thought I had to make a fic for it. I'm not sure if I want to continue with this or not. I might just leave it as a one shot, but enjoy! Disclaimer: I don't own the song the characters or setting.

Stiles sat in his loft high in the clock tower of Beacon Hills. He claimed the space as his own. His simple four poster bed and table that he turned into his work bench. He didn't have much to his name… he only had the nickname Stiles that he gave himself. He liked it, it was pretty to him.

Pretty like the little mannequins that stood on his table. These were his things, he liked them.

The night was falling and Stiles sat on his bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed. His shirt was too big and it slid off his thin shoulder. Stiles watched the floor as it slipped revealing the thing strap of his undershirt. There were wood shavings dusting the floor around his table. Shavings from the arrow shafts that he carved every night compulsively… he couldn't remember when he learned. He'd just always known how to make them.

Stiles flexed his toes in his socks… socks were funny things. The Sherriff of the town had given him these things, the socks. John Stilinski had found Stiles wandering the streets in the cold night, barefoot and only wearing a simple white shift that was no cover against the weather and leather pieces of archery wear on his hand, and other arm. Stiles couldn't feel the cold. He just marveled at the lights of the buildings and the jumped from the metal things that flew past him on the streets, and if anyone tried to take his archery gear he screeched.

What were these things? Cars. Stiles knew that now. He learned quickly with John teaching him. They put Stiles age at near nineteen. They couldn't put him in foster care, so John tried to set him up in his spare since he was the Sherriff and he'd been the one to found the strange quiet boy who didn't seem to know much about the world at all.

After the first night and John had found Stiles balancing across his two story roof he realized that he couldn't keep Stiles with him there. Stiles once John had got it out of him said he just wanted to be up high. The clock towers little loft was the highest place in Beacon Hills. John set him up there.

That's how Stiles ended up now sitting on his bed staring at the little mannequins that he had positioned to be hugging one another. People touched and hugged and loved all the time, but there were people out there that should be together and just didn't notice it yet. Stiles saw it.

John knocked and came in through the door to one room flat that only had a bathroom off of it. He was holding a bag that Stiles could already smell. Curly fries. Stiles hurried to John with a bright expression as he was given the curly fries. Curly fries where Stiles absolute favorite.

"Here, I brought you more water bottles too." John smiled setting the large package of water bottles on the floor. Stiles made a happy little noise and he bounced down on his bed drawing his feet up under him. He hummed a little soft song as he pulled opened the bag and plucked one free.

The Sherriff walked slowly into the room taking it in. His finger ran over the intricate arrows that Stiles had made. For not knowing anything six months ago the boy was quite the crafts man. Each one looked like it took a hell of a lot of effort and time.

Stiles made an arrow for every couple he saw who should be, but were not. In his wanderings he'd seen dozens.

Stiles looked up from his curly fry as John ran his finger over one certain arrow. The arrow Stiles first made. It was John's arrow, and Stiles smiled. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with it, the arrow he made for John, but he knew it wasn't meant to just be handed to him.

"You're really good at this kid. What are you going to do with them?" John asked, but he never got an answer. His phone rang and he got called in for work early, again. John smiled and ruffled Stiles hair. "You be good. I'll come and see you when I get off. I'm working on getting you a little fridge so you aren't living off of curly fries. See you Stiles." He rushed and Stiles watched him leave feeling … something a little hollow in his chest.

XXX

He had her right beside him. She was leaning against the wall with him, their fingers so close to touching. Together they waited outside of a club for their other friend. He told her that she could go in where it was warmer, but she said she was fine.

Their hearts were racing for each other, but neither would make that final move into that scary territory that could also be so beautiful if only they would try. They'd been friends first, and neither wanted to make a mistake and lose everything with one another… so they were almost willing to miss out on the perfection of each other's lips, and the sensation of skin on skin.

Stiles could see them from his all. Watching the couple with his head cocked to the side. Touch. Lean in, tell him you like him. Kiss him. Stiles pleaded with them. They should be together; he could feel it so bad it was like pin pricks at his back. They need a push. Just one push and they would be together.

He needed to go home. There was another arrow that he had to make. Another couple that was supposed to be together was kept apart.

XXX

This was the fastest arrow that he had made. It took just the rest of the night. Others took days, weeks even to finish, but Stiles was driven on by the prickling pain in his back. It was finished and by then the pain in his back only got worse.

Stiles sat on his bed lips set in a small frown as he tried to reach around his shoulders, his back, to get at what was hurting him. His fingers dragged over the skin under his tank top, to only thing he was wearing at the moment, his body over heating with the pain. Stiles kept searching, fingers dragging as he jerked this way and that trying to get a look.

But then his fingers ran over something raised. It scratched at the pad of his finger and Stiles gasped. He jerked to try and see, but his neck didn't bend that way. His fingers pulled at it, trying to grasp it. It was so short that he couldn't catch hold until finally he caught it between his nails. Slowly he pulled and then he felt it sliding from his skin in a stomach rolling sensation. Stiles felt dizzy as he held the foreign object to his face, his vision dancing too much to really focus. He swayed and the bloody white feather came into view of his leather clad hand. Eyebrows drew together and eyes swam until it went dark and Stiles fell back on his mattress. The feather fluttered from his unconscious hand to the floor.

XXX

Wings were marvelous things. Soft and light, but stronger than anything Stiles had ever felt. They flexed the small things on his back. He didn't know how they would ever carry him to fly. Perhaps they would grow? He hoped that they would. He would love to fly. He loved high places.

When he'd woken ten minutes ago he felt different. His wings ruffling as he woke, and in his hand was a black bow that he'd never seen before but felt like a part of him. Stiles slid from his bed stretching his wings and smiling. It felt good, exhilarating. After stretching them and feeling them he picked up the newest arrow that he had made and he ran.

They would still be there, he knew that they would. The couple from the club would be walking out and all he had to do was make it to his ally. His wings propelled him faster than just his feet could. It took no time at all until he was standing in the darkness of the ally, bow and arrow in hand waiting.

He would give them the love they should have.

Stiles strung the arrow and he pulled. This was what he was supposed to do. A trio came from the club laughing and holding on to one another.

He inhaled and shut his eyes for just a brief moment. Slowly he pulled back and then let the arrow fly. It spun through the air, and landed in the back of the man. He jerked forward and the arrow burst away in a cloud of read. Stiles watched as he stopped them all, pulling the woman to him. A smile played on Stiles lips. This was what he'd wanted for them, and then he kissed her, and Stiles ran home. He had other arrows to deliver.

XXX

Stiles felt drunk with each arrow that he let free. The more love he brought to people the more light headed and dizzied he felt. Yet with each couple that found love there was something a lone and fragile in him that screamed Give Me love! The drive to deliver all of his arrows kept him running, kept him going through all of Beacon Hills.

By the time the sun began to rise he only had a handful of arrows and his heart was aching, but his body swayed delighted. There was so much conflict. The need to bring love to others, and the desire for love for himself tore him.

Johns visit had been missed. Stiles had been gone the whole night that he'd missed it. A note was on his bed. John had taught him how to read, and Stiles had caught on to the words easily. The speaking was what came harder.

I'm sorry I missed you Stiles. We'll have a whole day together soon. We'll do whatever you want, even have curly fries. –John.

The name reminded him that he was still holding John's arrow. It was in his hands with the others that he had not shot yet. When the sun set he would go out again, he would finish these, and give Johns his and he and could be with the pretty nurse that had checked Stiles over when he first woke up in Beacon Hills.

They let John's wife death keep them apart because Melissa had been her bestfriend. They belonged together, and when Stiles was done everyone would have love.

What about you? A voice murmured in the back of his mind. Stiles slipped out of his boots and slid into bed falling to sleep with the coldness in his chest. He'd be happy when everyone else had love, that's what he told himself as he fell asleep. As long as they were happy, he would be happy, right?

XXX

The little faceless mannequins were his playthings. Lying in bed Stiles turned them over in his hands, moving them to hug, to kiss. He imagined that one of the faceless things was him, but the other mannequin just stayed a faceless thing. Who would love him?

Stiles tossed the dolls down and got into his boots. There were arrows still. Stiles grabbed them and he headed to the newest club. They would be there, all but John. Stiles could find John the very next morning with Melissa.

Clubs were loud and brimming with energy, sexual, ecstatic, and desperate. It permeated the air and made Stiles sway as he made his way through writing bodies. The music was moving and Stiles danced here and there as slammed arrow after arrow home into the backs of men and women alike.

If anyone though it was strange that a winged boy with arrows was dancing buzzed and drawlingly, they didn't say. Some watched him with curious eyes, and others danced with him. Their hands on his waist, his bare arm… every touch felt wrong as his eyelashes fluttered and he ran.

They weren't the one for him. They wouldn't give him love.

There was still one arrow left. The hollow in him wasn't filled and he'd already brought so many people love. Would it go away once he was done with Johns? He had to find out. Stiles wanted to smile and feel like those people did when they fell into each other's arms. Melissa was at the hospital, she was there now, and Stiles knew Johns number…

XXX

"Melissa!" John shouted when he reached the hospital after a call from Stiles. He said that he fell. Fell, John. Melissa has me. Frantically he made his way to the hospital, because with that kid it sure as hell was possible for him to fall with his obsession with being in high up place.

Melissa spun at her name to see John coming for her quickly. Her heart seized. Something looked wrong. He looked worried. Carefully she stepped out from behind the nurse's station to meet him.

"Where is he? Is he alright?" John asked quickly. Melissa didn't know what John was talking about. She told him as much and John looked confused.

"But, Stiles called from here, he said he fell, he said you had him." John's brow furrowed and he wiped a hand over his mouth. "Stiles hasn't been here all night. I haven't seen him." Melissa assured and John sighed.

He didn't know what was going on. Neither of them saw Stiles standing down the hall way drawing the bow taunt. He felt bad for tricking John that way, but this would make up for it. He let go of the arrow and it hit its mark. Stiles waited and waited for the cold feeling to go away. Though with each passing second and the hug that Melissa and John shared it only got hollower.

Stiles wanted that. What everyone was having. He didn't think he could, but he knew a way to try. It had worked for everyone else.

XXX

The newest arrow was quickly made with upset fingers. Gently Stiles rocked back and forth in his chair as he carved and shaved and sharpened his arrow. It was shorter than the others that he had made. This one wasn't going to fly from a bow.

Gently Stiles turned it over in his fingers… it was so light. Tears fell from Stiles eyes as he plucked two feathers from his new wings for the fletching's of his arrow. They were bloodstained as he threaded them to his arrow.

Give me love like never before because lately I've been craving more… You know I'll fight my corner, and that tonight I'll call ya when my blood…

Stiles paced his floor running the arrow over his chest, his neck, just along his jaw. There was fear in his movements, but there was anticipation. With a determined set to his jaw he sat on the bed and he plunged the arrow in.

XXX

John and Melissa just sort of… fell together. John didn't really know what happened, but he suspected Stiles had something to do with it. He wasn't angry either. This had been hovering between the two of them for a long time, and now… well there were plans for dinner.

Though as John kissed Melissa remembered that Stiles had said that he fell and he was a little worried still. He wasn't completely sure that Stiles made this happen between him and Melissa, and the boy no matter how good at reading and writing was a little slower with talking. He could really be hurt and just messed up what he had hurriedly spoken into the phone before hanging up.

Stiles didn't have a phone of his own. John hadn't gotten around to getting him that yet. The fridge seemed more important anyways. So he stepped away from Melissa and called his newest officer. He was working directly under Sherriff Stilinski to get experience, they were shift partners a good lot of the time.

"Hale. I need you to do me a favor and go and check on… On my son, Stiles. He lives in the clock tower, there's a spare key above the door, but he hardly locks it." John said into the phone. Derek Hale nodded before he realized that he had to use his words.

"Yeah, I got it." Derek said before hanging up. He didn't know that John had a son. He had heard that he'd taken in some kid that showed up in town before Derek got a job at the station. Derek didn't know much about that either. He started the police issue vehicle and made off in the general direction of the clock tower.

It was quiet as Derek walked up the stairs to the very top where the loft was. He'd never actually had any reason to go to the clock tower and he wondered what kind of person the Sherriff's son had to be to want to live in it.

"Hello? Stiles Stilinski? It's Derek Hale from the station. Your father sent me. I'm coming in." Derek announced before turning the handle. The door opened slowly to a lowly lit room with a fan going in the corner. It was very sparse, and there were wood shavings on the ground around what looked to be a work bench.

His eyes were drawn to the bed where someone, Stiles, Derek assumed, was laying. It was another three steps into the room that he noticed the wings. Probably some costume thing. Then another step and he saw the blood on the mattress, and the arrow laying across the bed. Derek realized the arrow was sticking from the boys throat.

Shit.

Derek hurried forward and was about to bring his fingers to the boys pulse to see if he was alive to see if he could save him before it was too late, but then he twitched. The wings twitched.

Stiles wings stretched out and then the arrow disappeared in a cloud of red smoke like it had so any times before. It had taken longer, but it worked and the blood that had stained the mattress was gone.

Derek didn't flinch, he moved closer. He had to see if the boy was alright. The boy with the wings. The boy that had shot himself with an arrow that could disappear.

Stiles opened his eyes slowly, blinking to clear the haze of his vision and soon he could see Derek watching him worriedly.

Eyes were watching him and Stiles was looking back. The hollow feeling in his chest was completely gone.