The Divine Move: Part 2

Six fingers.

Derek's hand has six fingers.

This means that this is all a dream.

"You're not real," he tells dream Stiles.

"Guess not," Stiles responds. "Pity, I quite enjoyed the idea of you here," he motions towards the bench. "Do you normally dream of being inside a locker room alone with teenage boys?"

"Not usually," Derek smiles. "Except that lately I've found myself thinking of all kinds of things."

Stiles wiggles his eyebrows mischievously. "Yeah, such as?"

"Well, for starters how it would feel to absolutely ruin you," Derek breathes. He can admit this here freely and without consequence. The real Stiles will never find out about his pointless infatuation. This is only a dream. He might as well enjoy it while he can.

"I'd want to own you," he continues, voice dripping with lust. "I want to hear the sounds you would make when I'm inside you. I want to hear you fucking scream."

"That's not very honorable, Derek," Dream Stiles teases, watching him through fluttering lashes. "And lusting after a sheriff's son no less. What would people think?"

"Most of the morons in this town already believe that I'm some sort of drug dealing killer for the mafia. It doesn't matter what they think," Derek responds.

"That would make one fine television show," Stiles jokes. "Instead of the Godfather, there would be the Alpha. Instead of whacking people…well, there would still be whacking. Only with fewer guns and more teeth."

"Dream you talks as much as the real you," Derek observes.

"You must really enjoy my talking then," Stiles grins. "After all, this is your dream. You are the one controlling it."

"I do like it," Derek admits. He would never tell the actual Stiles just how much he enjoys the boy's incessant babble. It was strangely soothing. "However, I can think of other uses for that mouth of yours."

Stiles lifts a hand to Derek's lips, finger gently tracing the bottom half.

Derek moans loudly. He pulls Stiles against his body and shivers in delight. He never thought that he would ever get to experience the feel of Stiles' body against his own.

He closes his eyes as Stiles rakes a hand through his hair.

"You have to leave now, Derek."

Derek opens his eyes. "What? No, I don't want to leave yet," he panics. "I want to stay."

Stiles smiles softly and rubs a finger softly against Derek's cheek. "You'll see me again soon. The real me."

"Please," Derek pleads. "Let me stay."

"You don't belong here. Your friends need you. I need you," Stiles tilts Derek's head so that they are staring directly into one another's eyes. "Promise me something," he commands.

Derek nods obediently.

"Don't doubt, what I tell you."

Derek frowns. "I don't understand."

"You will," Stiles smiles. "Goodbye Derek Hale."

Derek wakes up feeling as though his stomach is on fire.

He groans uncomfortably and tries to sit up only to find a pair of hands pushing him back down.

"Careful," Peter says. "You're still not fully healed."

"Where am I? What happened?" Derek looks down at his stomach and finds that it is covered in blood.

"You're at the loft," Peter explains. "Scott brought you back here after finding you lying on the ground with a giant hole in your middle. You resembled a jelly doughnut, only with a tad more blood filling than raspberry. Do you remember what happened?"

Derek tries to think back but it's too foggy. He remembers dreaming of Stiles.

Of touching Stiles.

Whatever occurred before that is a giant question mark.

"It's all a blank," he tells Peter.

Peter frowns despondently. "It would seem that someone has tried very hard to make you forget what transpired,"

Derek sits up very slowly, his body burning. "Why would they do that?"

"My guess is that you saw something that you were not supposed to see."

Derek really wishes that he could remember who the person was that did this to him. So that he could rip their throat out.

"Where are Scott and the others?" Derek needs to make sure that they are all safe.

Peter grins wickedly. "By others, do you mean Stiles Stilinkski?"

Derek glares. He is so not in the mood for Peter's shit.

"You were talking in your sleep. Seems that you care more for that boy than you let on."

Derek growls menacingly.

"Panting after a teenage boy. Best friend of the alpha. Son of the sheriff. I'm impressed nephew. I hadn't realized that you could be such a rule breaker."

Derek exhales, resigned. Now that Peter knows about his crush, he'll never shut up about it. Derek should really just kill him and get it over with.

"Not that I can't understand the appeal," Peter continues. "Stiles is cunning, intelligent, and practically ruthless when his friend's lives are threatened. All qualities I admire, which is precisely why I offered him the bite."

Derek's hand is around Peter's throat in an instant.

"You did what?" Derek grits his teeth in frustration. He squeezes Peter's throat just a little bit harder.

"I offered young Stiles the bite. He didn't tell you? He turned me down, though. Such a shame, he really would have made a spectacular wolf. In fact, he would have been diabolical," Peter's mouth forms a wide maniacal smile. Diabolical indeed.

"Stay away from Stiles," Derek threatens. "He's not going to become a wolf."

"You could offer him the bite, Derek. He might be swayed if it was you that was offering it to him."

Derek shakes Peter roughly, hoping to get his point across. "Never, he's staying human." Derek hates the idea of Stiles as a wolf. The boy's humanity is what makes him stronger, not weaker. It's what provides him with that unflinching loyalty to his loved ones. Derek wouldn't take that away for anything.

Peter sighs, as though he's being severely inconvenienced. "As you wish. Now if you would be kind enough to loosen your grip, I would be much appreciative."

Derek unwillingly lets Peter loose. His uncle opens the door to leave. "Oh, do let me know how that dream turns out," he taunts.

Derek throws a lounge chair at him.

Derek might never make his dream a reality. But what he could do was make sure that Stiles continued to be happy and safe.

He climbs through the teen's window and comes face to face with that damn chess board. Derek's name is still branded right onto the king.

"I didn't want to get rid of it," Stiles says, nodding towards the board. "It's a symbol that we won."

Stiles looks exhausted. He has dark circles under his eyes.

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Not much of a fan for sleep lately," Stiles answers, looking Derek up and down. "You look as though you could use some rest yourself."

Derek holds up a hand to wear the hole in his middle is slowly healing. "I'll be fine, just need some more time to heal."

"You really don't remember who shot you?" Stiles looks extremely nervous.

"It wasn't him," Derek reassures the boy. "The Nogitsune is dead."

Stiles nods. "I know. It's just, it never ends. There's always something to be afraid of."

"I don't want you to be afraid," Derek says, then stills. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. It was a mistake coming over here not fully recovered. He didn't even realize what he was saying until it was too late.

Stiles is staring at him in surprise. Since it's already too late to take back his comment, Derek may as well get some answers.

There are some things he needs to know.

"Why did you make me your king?" He wanted to know the reason for that ever since seeing his name attached to the board.

"That wasn't me, Derek. That was a demented fox demon that stole my face," Stiles replies bitterly. "How am I supposed to know what was going through his head?"

"He knew everything you knew. You were two sides of the same coin. Elements from your subconscious had to have made their way to his thoughts. Something to have influenced some of the decisions he made."

"What are you saying?" Stiles demands angrily. "What the fuck are you implying?"

Derek sighs dejectedly. "I just want to know if it meant something."

Stiles puts his hand upon Derek's shoulder. "It probably did mean something, to him. Everything he did had some sort of methodical reasoning to it, however crazy it may have been."

Of course it didn't mean anything to Stiles. It was the joke of a madman.

Derek let that dream affect him too much. It got into his head.

He needed to remember that the dream wasn't real. Stiles wasn't his, never would be his. Derek had to get is emotions under control.

"I guess I have my answer then," he says resigned. "You should get some sleep." He tries to move back towards the window but Stiles hand on his shoulder keeps him in place.

"Derek, don't go. You're just asking the wrong questions. You should be asking if it would have meant something if I had made you my king. Me, not that imposter."

"Would it have meant something?" Derek hears the hopefulness seeping through his voice. He cannot bring himself to care that he sounds so needy.

Stiles hand moves from his shoulder to cup Derek's cheek. Derek immediately leans into the touch.

"Damn right, it would have," Stiles leans into Derek and allows their lips to touch.

Kissing Stiles is intoxicating. His dream hadn't even felt this euphoric.

Wait the dream.

This is just another dream.

Derek pulls away from Stiles. "This isn't real," he says miserably. "It's another dream."

Stiles blinks at him in confusion. "Another? You've dreamt of me before?"

Derek nods. "And I still am."

Stiles grabs Derek's hands. "Count," he commands.

Derek observes his hands suspiciously.

Each hand has 5 fingers.

"Now count mine," Stiles commands, wiggling his long digits.

Once again, there are ten.

"You are not dreaming, big guy. This is all real."

Derek shakes his head. He can't allow himself to trust this. He'll only wake up alone and hurt.

Stiles threads their fingers together. "Listen to what I am telling you, Derek Hale. You are not dreaming."

Derek reflects on his dream. Of Stiles saying his name in a similar manner and telling Derek not to doubt him. Dream Stiles was telling him to trust this Stiles. The actual Stiles.

"This is really you," Derek states in astonishment.

Stiles beams jubilantly. "It really is. Now how about more of that kissing cause I'm not getting any young—"

Derek shuts him up with a kiss.

"You want to play some chess?" Stiles questions several hours later.

Derek looks towards the board where his name is branded. "I've had enough of that thing to last me a lifetime. Gives me the creeps."

Stiles laughs amused. "Well let's see if we can fix that." He grabs a pen and a bright yellow post it note.

Derek watches as Stiles writes something on the note then goes to the board and removes the label with Derek's name. He rolls it into a ball and throws it in the garbage bin. Then he places the post it on the king where the Nogitsune's identifier previously stood.

"How about now?" Stiles asks him.

Derek walks over to the board and reads the post it.

The name Derek is written with a small crown drawn below it.

Derek smirks delightedly. "Does it mean that this time I'm your king?"

Stiles kisses his smiling face. "Indeed it does. Now kindly remove those pants, your Highness."

P.S -Next chapter will be: What if it was all role play?

P.P.S-Please follow me on tumblr