Uneasiness hung in the air, thick like a fog, and choking Stiles with every breath he took. He was starting to panic, starting to regret his decision to ever approach the subject. And, above all, he was seriously starting to doubt the conclusions he had drawn.

You see, Stiles' life was many things, crazy, unpredictable, terrifying as hell, but one thing it was not was perfect. Stiles didn't often get what he wanted, a lot of the time he didn't even get what he needed, like validation or appreciation, and it was something he had come to expect. So there was no way, no way, that the world had suddenly decided to scrap that routine and offer him Derek Hale. It was too nice, to perfect, too on par with what Stiles wanted. And yeah, that had been part of the cryptic riddle the bodiless voice had told him when he was dead – and, oh god, what was his life?- but still, surely this was going way too far.

Maybe fate was playing a trick on him, maybe their endgame was to let Derek kill him, although that seemed kind of redundant seeing as he had already been dead when they brought him back. Bringing him back just to kill him again seemed a bit like overkill. Literally, overkill.

But still there was no way that Derek was his god damned destiny. There had to be something else, something less terrifying and potentially amazing, because life just didn't work like that, especially Stiles'. And hell, he was still trying to get his head round the whole 'destiny is real, he has one' thing let alone accepting that Derek might be involved in it, it was all way too much and he really should have thought everything through a lot more before coming to confront Derek. Oh well, kind of too late for that.

The chair sagged beneath Stiles as he flopped down, hand scraping across his scalp as he tried to calm is racing mind. He idly registered that he was in exactly the same seat that he had sat in each and every time he had come to Derek's post his resurrection. For some reason that relaxed him slightly, as if the routine of it all comforted him enough for his heartbeat to stop pounding in his chest like a blacksmith's hammer.

Derek had pulled the rickety old chair across the room again like he had the last time Stiles had visited, and was perched on it, forearms locked tight against his legs as if he were actively forcing them to stay still. He stared at Stiles expectantly, waiting for Stiles to speak. Clearing his throat and twisting his fingers together, Stiles took the plunge.

'So, um, yeah. Like I mentioned outside, I had an epiphany of sorts about this whole temporary life situation, as in, I may have an idea of how to make it permanent again. Well actually, I thought I did, but I am strongly doubting my own deductions right now. Yeah, the more I think about it the more I am sure I am completely wrong. Never been more wrong actually, embarrassingly so. Just forget it. I'm going to, er, just leave-'

'Stiles.'

Stiles froze, halfway between sitting and standing, staring at the hand on his shoulder. He flicked his eyes towards Derek's blank face, and then back towards the hand as it started applying light pressure, coaxing him back onto the worn cushions. Knowing it was useless to resist the will of the scarily strong Alpha, Stiles let himself be pushed down again, but refused to continue talking.

'Stiles, what were you going to say? What did you think it was?'

There was frustration and curiosity in Derek's tone, and Stiles really wanted to see what expression he had on, but he couldn't bring himself to meet Derek's eyes, unreasonably embarrassed now he was actually here talking to Derek about his theories. His impossible theories.

'Stiles please. You said it involved me? What do you mean? How?'

The hand that Derek hadn't removed from his shoulder tightened, a short, sharp pulse of frustration being conveyed through the gesture. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut for a second before blinking them open and tilting his head up to meet Derek's strangely intense gaze.

'You won't like it.'

'Try me.'

And that wasn't at all what he'd been expecting. He'd been trying to warn Derek off, he'd expected it to work, he wasn't expecting a flat out counter to his warning. Practically a dare. And the intense stare was doing nothing to lessen Stiles' confusion and agitation.

'Seriously Derek, you won't like it.'

'Seriously Stiles, try me.'

The insane urge to punch Derek in the jaw washed over Stiles. It was one part frustration, one part wanting to get Derek to stop staring at him like he was challenging him, and one part need for distraction however life threatening it may be. He refrained simply out of respect for the bones in his hand, and his unwillingness to offend Derek any further than he had to. Instead he exhaled sharply, raised his chin in fake confidence and pushed Derek's hand off of his shoulder.

'Ok, you want to know what I came up with? Fine. Here it is. After hours, and hours, and hours of wracking my brain I realised that there was a pattern to the chaos that it my epically tragic life right now. Do you remember last time I came here? When I thought I was meant to become a wolf and join the pack? I'd reached that conclusion because the whiteness only receded when I was around a member of the pack, right? I'd thought it was a clue, and I still do, only now, I think it means something else. You see if it isn't the pack that I was responding to, then it had to be pack related. So I thought about, we already covered just how much I thought about it, and I realised that when I was around Scott, or Isaac, or Erica, Boyd, Jackson, I was there but so was the whiteness, lurking just behind the scenes. When I'm with you, there is nothing. No whiteness, no buzzing, no headaches. It's not the pack, it's you that was making the whiteness recede, and because the pack respond to you, they helped keep it away as well.'

Derek's face scrunched up in confusion, so completely puppy-like that Stiles had to dig his nails into his thigh to keep from laughing, or maybe cooing because it was kind of adorable in an odd way.

'I don't understand. Why me? What about me?'

'Yeah, well, this is the bit I think you won't like so much, so just remember you asked for this. Anyway, so yeah, once I figured out you were involved in the whole 'destiny' thing it was pretty easy to figure out the rest. The other part of the crazy riddle was that it would relate to something I want but would never take. Basically… you.'

Stiles raised his hand to halt any speech on Derek's part.

'Wait till I finish to kill me please. It's the polite thing to do, and if you have to kill me then please let me die in the knowledge that I at least taught you basic etiquette. Thank you. Where was I? Oh, yeah, so I figured that it made sense for the whole fate thing to be related to hooking up with you seeing as it fit the criteria. Of course, I hadn't totally considered how ridiculous that really sounded until I got here, fate is hardly going to be interested in my love life is it? Rest assured that I do, now, know that it was idiotic and that I am completely on board with never, ever, talking about these, um, feelings, for the rest of my life, however short that turns out to be.'

Silence.

'Um, I'm done, you can, er, kill me now if you want.'

Stiles' fingers tangled together in his lap as he stared resolutely over Derek's shoulder. His heart was crashing against his ribs, and his throat was tight, letting through only a few panicked little breaths at a time. Now that Derek's hand was no longer on his shoulder, the buzzing was back, ringing against his brain with startling intensity. He closed his eyes and shook his head trying to dislodge the sound as best he could.

It did stop, but only when warm fingertips gripped his chin and halted his movement. The sudden peace was incredible, and the heat sparking through him from the contact only emphasised that, but Stiles still refused to open his eyes, content to stay and lose himself in the moment, possibly one of his last.

'You think I'd kill you?'

If he didn't know better he would have said that Derek sounded hurt. As if the very idea was ridiculous and insulting and painful to him. Stiles smiled, somewhat serenely, still not opening his eyes as he spoke.

'What? Not worth the trouble of hiding the body. Yeah, I get that. I'll be dead in a few days anyway, so really no need on your part, you just need to wait it out.'

Stiles' eyes flew open as he heard a muffled choking sound. Derek's eyes were wide, his mouth parted, and his entire body seemed to be frozen. The hand not on Stiles' face, was clutching at the fabric of his jeans, the grip so tight it seemed that they might not remain intact for much longer.

'Don't say that. Don't you dare say that.'

Derek's voice was deep and dark, verging on a growl that shook through Stiles like an earthquake. Derek's irises were rimmed with red, feral fury pouring out of them, but Stiles got the feeling that it wasn't all directed at him. To say he was lost was an understatement. The entire conversation had taken a very unexpected and confusing turn somewhere back around his confession and now he was blindly trying to avoid any hidden landmines in the uncharted territory.

'Um, what?'

It was hardly eloquent, but then again he was surprised he had managed to get any words out anyway, what with his mind racing, trying desperately to figure out what was happening. He almost groaned out loud when the fingers dropped from his face, the cool air hitting the overheated areas where the warm pads of Derek's fingers had been.

'You think I'd kill you? You think I want you dead? You're an idiot, a complete fucking idiot. How can you – I don't understand – I thought you were supposed to be smart.'

He leant forward, elbows resting on his knees and eyes locking Stiles' in place.

'I mean, god, you think I would hurt you for telling me you like me? You think I'd kill you for telling me – telling me everything I – I want to hear? How can you not know? How can you not know that you dead is the last thing I would ever want. How can you not know that I would do anything, anything to keep you alive? To keep you with me?'

And then there were lips against Stiles' lips, fast and frantic and desperate, and it was all Stiles could do to hold on to Derek's shoulders and give back as good as he got, because even if he was still trying to catch up with what he'd just been told, he was hardly going to argue with the results. Despite what Derek had just said, he wasn't a complete idiot.

And really, it was wonderful, fantastic even, up until the point that the whiteness lurking at the back of his mind, suddenly forced its way forward, crashing violently and painfully against every corner of his mind, and swept him away.

He cried out for Derek, but he was too far gone to be heard.

Sitting in the burnt down remnants of his old family house, Derek stared down at where Stiles had been only a second ago, there was now only empty space. His hands shook as his mind spasmed, and finally a low choking gasp forced its way out of his throat. And as if that had broken the dam, Derek fell to the ground and finally broke like he hadn't let himself since Laura's death, because really, what was the point of staying strong if Stiles was gone?

He'd waited too long; the fates had taken him back.

Stiles was dead.

More soon.