Author Pixie: So this is in a series. You should read the first one in it to get the full feel of what the heck is going on. Trust me. The first part is called Special People Stiles. Part 3 of Being Special Series P.S. This is the unbeta version until I get my glorious beta back.
The title comes from the song Farewell to the Fairground by White Lies
He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.
Friedrich Nietzsche
He couldn't tell you what came over him, what told him 'hey today's the day you should tell your secrets. Today's the day you can finally stop the lies. Maybe you can finally stop what's slipping through like oil through nets.' Maybe it's the way his dad looks at him as if he doesn't know him anymore. As if he would like nothing better than to grab and shake him to get his answer. It's the way his jaw sets clamping down grinding teeth together in frustration and anger and it's telling that he can't even joke with him anymore like he could before this moment. It's the way his eyes narrow with displeasure in a way that's new. It's not a new look on his dad's face; he's see it given to thieves, murderers, scum. What's new is the fact that those eyes are zoned to him. What's new is that it's become the new normal look between them, as if Stiles is just a suspect or criminal you can't really trust. A criminal you've got to stare at until they turn to stone, reveal their secrets, or unmask their crime.
Stiles didn't think it could get worst until his dad saw the rune tattoos. The way he looked, as if 'I knew it all along, thanks for proving me right.' hurt like someone has cut into his heart. Maybe it was the growing silence between them. How they were growing to become strangers who just so happened to live together. Who just so happened to share the same name and blood and past lost of a love one. Strangers who couldn't even speak more than a few words before they were stuck with more silence. Maybe it was how these days he's afraid, not of supernatural creatures or hunters. He's afraid of a question. He's afraid of the answer and what it would mean to his heart and soul instead. He's so afraid of four words, words that before he didn't need the power of mind reading to know. But the past seems to mean nothing so he bites his lips never letting the words out. Who knew 'Do you love me?' could hurt so much.
So he's sitting at the table with his father and best friend. Their takeout is finished and their former warmth from a hot meal starts fading away. Stiles is fidgeting tapping on his knee. He tries to ignore the way that Scott is no doubt trying to not stare at him in question and worry; his heart is beating fast and strong set for fight or flight though these days it's seen more fight. These days, ever since he's become a Hunter or ever since he found that book with Lydia, he can safely say it's been more fight than anything else.
"Dad, I need to tell you some things." Stiles starts when he can't just sit there in the growing uncomfortable silence anymore.
"Are you finally going to stop lying?" his father shot out at him.
"I haven't always been lying. There's been a good deal of stretching the truth and maybe a bit of omission but-"
"Do you think it matters the way you're lying? You've been lying, sneaking out in the middle of the night, turning up at crime scenes with zero explanation, and hiding things. What conclusions should I be getting? Huh, Son?" Sheriff Stilinski replied with just a hint of hiss in his voice. If Stiles wasn't trying to calm down and think about the ways he could make sure that this didn't turn out sour and stale the way that fruit sometimes did after being shoved in his locker he would have laughed and called his dad a parseltongue.
"I have reasons for all of that, valid reasons." He tried pleading.
"Really? Are you on drugs? Are you a drug dealer? Are you in a gang?"
"I'm not doing drugs or selling anything. And I wouldn't call it a gang per se more like an after school special."
"Let me take a wild guess," the Sheriff insisted with this twisted frown of a smile on his lips that made Scott who was long forgotten to still be there shift a bit closer to Stiles. "your tattoos are your gang's marks? How stupid can you be to do this? It was bad enough when you were just a too hyperactive kid. I could even take the fact that I lost my job because my kid was too much of a hassle to deal with but this? What the hell is going on in your head? Do you even think with anything in there?! Can you think?" he shouted.
Stiles took it in trying to remain calm but as his dad went on and on it got harder to resist the flinching and the pain of disappointment and guilt. He never wanted it to be like this, and this was turning out to be worst than anything his nightmares could have created. His father was looking at him as if he didn't even want him. As if the answer to that question was in his eyes already and there was no need to ask.
"I, GOD I didn't want this okay? I didn't exactly have too many options in getting into this. I – fuck it. You want to know what everything means?" he had enough.
He had enough with everything. He was hurting in ways that reached under skin in ways that no other sharp object could. It was getting hard to breath and the pain in his chest alternated between stabs and squeezes to his heart. He felt like he did in his sophomore year when he had consumed Lydia's wolfbane punch. And when he blinked he was back there again; he was mentally being trampled on as his father called him a failure, a burden. He wanted to stop this. He just wished it would stop. Why didn't he have his mate here? Why the hell didn't he have Derek here with him instead on his best friend? He just wanted to be able to pull someone close and let them hold him for a moment, to eat his pain away. The fact that Scott looked like he would be okay with doing that was beside the point. He wanted Derek to hold him and run his fingers across every single swirl on his tattoo while he let those wolf purrs out, those purrs that always calmed him down and made him feel loved. He needed to feel loved because right now he was feeling anything but it. But he was the one who told Derek to stay. He was the one who said he had to do this. Stiles just didn't know doing this was going to hurt so much.
"I thought we could talk about this but I guess not-" Stiles commented standing up and putting his glass in the sink.
"So you're going to run away from this?" Papa Stilinski asked.
"Oh no, I'll just have to show you." Stiles replied finally pulling back his sleeves to show his inner arm. He didn't care that he was giving his dad the insane Cheshire cat grin he gave most enemies before he tried to slice them in half; this felt like a battle and the only way he knew how to function was to fight back. The fact that his method of fighting back included pulling the chef's knife from its place by the sink and cutting a long line on his arm could be argued the wrong way to fight back.
"What the hell are you doing? Scott call the ambulance." His father screamed.
Stiles only smiled back at him for a moment while he watched the way the blood fell down his arm. The pain was temporary, he had cut his flesh the way he remembered Chris told him to slice a non lethal blow. This was only made to make a slight wound. "I'm proving a point Sheriff. You want to know what these horrible juvenile delinquent assumed marks where for so bad. Well take a look." He replied walking closer and closer to his father until he was standing a foot away.
"You're bleeding; the blood lost is making you talk nonsense. We're getting you to the hospital before you die or something."
"Look at it! You wanted answers didn't you?" Stiles challenged him shoving his bleeding arm right underneath his father's nose making sure he got a good look at it. He was angry, he was hurt, he wasn't thinking right. The sad part was he didn't care. He could feel the moment the magic of the runes starts working on the cut; the way his back itches for a slight second and how it feels as if a finger is sliding across his back to fall to his arms. The moment his dad gasps and backs away from him to the other side of the kitchen he knows he's seen the way the skin's knitted itself together.
"What are you?" he questions with a just a hint of fear in his voice and if that doesn't beat all; he's own father is afraid of him. Ten minutes ago he would have tried to sooth his father; he would have sat down, talked to him calmly, told Scott to not wolf out yet, anything at all to help him accept this. But ten minutes have happened and now he's not sure he can stop this or if he wants to.
"Scott, change."
"But dude I'm not sure if-" he tries.
"Scott change." Stiles demands and if his voice tinges just a bit with anger it's not his fault. And if his eyes turn bright from the borrowed magic he drags from the rune around his neck, night vision, then it's just the moment that's making him react in a dangerous this is war way. He doesn't bother looking at Scott instead he watches his father and when he slams into the counter and slides down to the ground he knows he's looking at Scott in a new way. "What am I? Hmm…apparently whatever I am is supernatural. I'm special dad. I'm special because of my bloodline. It's probably from mom now that I think about it, she was the one with the real spark wasn't she?
"Scott here though? Scotty boy is a 100% Teen Wolf. I guess art imitates life."
"You're monsters." Sheriff Stilinski replied.
"The correct term for Scott here is werewolf. You know as if those supernatural beings that turn into part wolf part human 'beast' once every full moon? The beings that can rip you limb by limb? But wait there's more. You don't even know the tip of the iceberg daddy-o. Me? I'm just a bit better than your average human." Stiles corrected.
He saw the fear in his father's eyes. He saw the way his eyes grew so intense that he really should have never been surprised about what happened next, should being the word.
"Get out of my house."
"Mr. Stilinski, really there's no need to be so serious about this. Well it's a serious matter but we can talk about this. Stiles just wanted you to know about what's been happening. If you could-" Scott tried to reason with him but Stiles could have told him there wasn't any hope. He knew where he got some of his personality from and if it was one thing he shared with his dad it was quick decisions.
The click of the gun, a .45 city issued Glock, made Scott shut up. Stiles only looked into his father's eyes. He couldn't use words anymore when words seemed already useless. "Get out of my house you monsters."
"But Sir you can't-"
The warning shot was a reply all its own.
"This is your son! You can't!"
"I don't have a son anymore. Now get the hell out!"
He's not sure how he ends up on the Argent's steps standing in the pouring rain. And isn't that just funny? Isn't that just hilarious to know that somehow mother earth knows this is the night for cleansing and weeping. Stiles just stands there letting the water fall on him while he tries to think how he got here, how everything just fell apart and this is his life now. How can this be his life? Vaguely he notices that he's bleeding from a gunshot but when he got it he isn't sure. He isn't even sure where Scott got lost at. He giggles with choked tears thinking about putting up lost puppy fliers to find Scott.
He doesn't have a father anymore.
His dad said he wasn't his son.
He doesn't have a mother, he's known that for a long time now. She's buried in the cemetery with pretty sunflowers on her stone.
Can you be an orphan without both parents dying?
He isn't sure what makes Chris open the door suddenly to stare at him with eyes that seem too surprised. He's just really glad when he's pulled out of the rain and into an actually caring, he can hope loving, embrace. Stiles is too far gone lost into his own mind to notice the way Chris' eyes narrow when they notice the gunshot wound on his shoulder. He zones out as Chris takes out the bullet so that he can start healing again.
He doesn't want to talk about it.
Allison walks into the room, and he guesses he's in the guest room but he couldn't even tell you how he got up there, with the phone to her ear. "Scott, he's here. He's at our house. What…what the hell happened?"
"That's just what I was going to ask myself." Chris agreed looking at Stiles as he lies on his side and tries really hard to not cry with the way Chris keeps sliding his fingers through his hair as if that will calm him. As if anything will calm him down. He's still in shock.
"I know he was going to talk with his dad. But that doesn't explain why he was bleeding-What? You're kidding? His father shot him?!" Allison screeched and if Stiles never has to hear her voice go up that high he would be very happy.
"He did what?" Chris asked with not even attempted to be hidden anger.
"He called you both monsters? How…I can't-He shot his own son, Scott! Did he try to shoot you? What do you mean Stiles isn't his son anymore? You can't be serious…you're serious. 'I don't have a son.'?
"Look Scott it's not okay but Stiles is here now so there's not too much to worry about...What do you mean no? You called Derek. You told Derek what happened. You just told him that his mate was shot? By his father?" Allison questioned with growing disbelief that was brining her voice back to the level it should never reach. Stiles had a moment to contemplate if the rest of the pack hated the level her voice got too.
Chris stopped more or less petting him and suddenly Stiles wanted him to be close again. He didn't want Chris to stop because he was suddenly afraid to know what he would do if he wasn't.
"Scott you need to call Derek and tell him to not do anything stupid. Please, you need to call him somehow. Why am I panicking? I don't know? What would you do if my dad shot me? What do you think Jackson would do if Peter shot Lydia these days? Hmm?" Allison scolded and wow Stiles had to admit that Allison had grown up from her former classical Disney Princess days to Esmeralda and Mulan status right under his nose. "Yeah! Go find him!"
Stiles isn't sure when he ended up closing his eyes but he's abruptly opening them again to see Chris placing his own gun behind his back and hidden under his very own leather jacket while Allison stands to the side looking worried and angry at once. He wants to tell Chris to stay, that he doesn't want him to do anything that will get him hurt because if he lost him too he isn't sure what he would do.
"I'm going to see if I can stop Derek from doing something stupid and maybe have a nice long talk with the Sheriff. I need you to look out for your brother." Chris instructed Allison. Stiles isn't sure how to talk. He isn't sure he knows what words to say anymore. This night is too much. He's found out that full price of being special.
When he wakes up again he's in arms that tighten and pull him closer offering something other than just warmth but also love and care. The first thing he notices is the fact that Allison is sleeping across from him in a rocking chair and while his mind tries to understand why Allison would be in his bedroom and why his dad would have let a girl over he turns over to face his wonderful cuddle partner. It's when he sees his mate, Derek, that it all comes back to him like a sledgehammer to the head.
He isn't crying.
Derek doesn't have to pull him closer to his body and burry his face into his neck as he cries.
He's not shaking from tears that shock his system as if he's being tasered.
Just because you know that you can lose something doesn't mean you're prepared to lose it. Just because you know you can doesn't mean you want to. It even doesn't mean that the pain will be somehow less than if you didn't know. There are things that hurt so bad that nothing can save you from the sorrow and hurt. Stiles knew this reality. He's had it before as a child.
No one told him the pain the second time around would be as painful as the first or even worst in its own way.
Stiles wonders now really if he was okay with this last payment to the piper.
He wonders if he can live through this.
"I didn't kill him," Derek whispers into his ears once he thinks that he can't muster up enough water to cry 'a river and drown the whole world'. " I wanted to kill him so much for hurting you this way but I didn't because I don't think you would have wanted that really. I would rather be beaten by the kanima or those underworld vampires or even the alpha pack than have you in this much pain."
"You're sounding sappy jigglypuff." Stiles murmured back to him.
"You're my mate," he kissed him slowly and forcefully at once giving all the fear he felt when he heard Stiles was shot, his anger, and his care in a nice 'I really would give you the damn moon if I could' milkshake kiss. "I'm allowed to be as sappy as I want with you."
"I…fuck. I have nothing left now. I…I think I'm an eighteen year old orphan now. And I-I don't-" Stiles stammered trying to sort out his new reality because this was his life now too. He had a father who didn't want him anymore.
"Stiles, look at me." Derek commanded while Stiles closed his eyes because how the hell could he look into his eyes when he looked so damn wrecked? He didn't look strong or sexy the way he normally did with his tattoos dancing with magic all his own across his body in the moonlight. He didn't look excited or full of adrenaline the way he did before and after a fight when he wiped the blood or sweat off his face. He knew his 'I'm going to win this argument anyway so why are you trying' face wasn't there. He wasn't a sight to behold as he sliced and ducked and fought. He looked broken and he didn't care to see the shattered image in Derek's eyes. Derek's fingers claws and all grabbed his jaw and squeezed making him open his eyes to stare into crimson red. "Stiles, what am I to you?"
He gulped deep, "You're my mate."
"What does that mean?" he asked him keeping his hands on his jaw.
"It means I'm there for you and you're there for me; body, mind, and heart until we may die." Stiles answered from memory of the passage he had read about mates years ago.
"Which means I'm going to be here for you for a long ass time got it? You're kind of stuck with me. Nothing's going to change that especially a stupid," Derek closed his eyes and when he opened it again it was as if the red before was food coloring while the one that stared at Stiles then was blood and fire. "A stupid person who deserves to be hurt in interesting ways isn't going to change it."
"I'm not going to lose my brother. So you're stuck with me too." Allison unexpectedly added causing Stiles to turn to her in disbelief. He didn't want to talk about the way his heart pumped with relief and love.
"So the Sheriff is an idiot who knows he's a bit of an idiot but won't change his mind. His lost. You're ours then. I couldn't be happier." Chris announced to the room walking in with the rest of the pack following on his heels. Stiles ignored the way that he knew he was letting his lessons run into the ground with his sadness; he normally could hear when someone approached him or moved in a room. The rune behind his ear, improved hearing, made sure he was better than average.
"My mom still loves you kind of like the son she never really wanted but has long since learned to love." Scott chimed in bounding over to sit with Allison but turning to give Stiles a grin.
"You're our little Stilinski, you're dad has got nothing to do with that. I could even get him fired" Jackson claimed and if other people didn't get that for Jackson that was the equivalent of saying I love you in a very normal way then they didn't need to know.
"You're our hunter boy." Boyd noted.
"Who else is going to be Little Red?" Erica questioned.
"Who needs dads?" Isaac agreed.
"You're our hyperactive violent brain child." Danny stated.
"You're special Stiles, very special. And it's wonderful. If your dad's not smart enough to realize that, who needs him. At least you're not stupid." Lydia commented patting him on his head before sitting on the floor by his bed as everyone else had done.
Peter just gave him a silent look that said he didn't think Stiles needed him to say anything. Stiles remembered the fact that once upon a time Peter wanted to turn him if given the choice. Peter may have cared deeply about Lydia in a parental way but it was still Stiles the one he checked on after her. If Stiles didn't understand that he valued him enough then he wasn't worth the effort.
"You're pack. You're ours. You have something." Derek told him turning Stiles' head back to him. "You have everything."
Stiles can't talk. He can't speak. He just holds Derek closer and breaths in his scent. He's not sure what he would say but he knows that every supernatural werewolf person in the room which pretty much means everyone except the Argent, Lydia, and Danny can tell the way his heart is beating that he's overwhelmed. They can tell the way their words tug and pull on his heart pushing it back to the comfort of a loving bed.
Sometimes the payment for the piper seems too much.
Sometimes it leaves you nearly empty and broken.
But even broken and empty things can be fixed and filled again.
What's lost won't always be found.
But sometimes something better, richer, can be found instead.
Tell me what yall think about these drabble/fics.
Also there's going to be more. I think the 5th one may have smut. MAY HAVE being the key word.