"An anchor? Okay, yeah, sure. I can find an anchor." Stiles rambles sitting on the sofa next to Derek and opposite Damon, his amber eyes wide and frantic. He feels like his heart should be thundering in his chest but its not and it won't ever beat again. It makes him feel lost and unstable, and from the look on Derek's face, Derek feels the same.
"Right, so it has to be something that keeps me human, so like, my dad yeah? Or curly fries 'cause God knows I love curly fries, or the pack, video games, how much I hate Mr Harris."
"It has to me more than just your average anchor Genim," Damon corrects looking way too at home in the oversized arm chair in the den. "It has to be strong, like mate bond strong, or sire bond strong." The sneaky glance at a scowling Caroline doesn't go unnoticed by Stiles but he's freaking out too much to even care.
"So, I have to like, find someone to supernatural marry/mate? Yeah, no worries I'll get right on that, 'cause there's hundreds of people desperate to date me, seriously I'm beating them away with sticks. And its not like I'm a virgin or anything, haha, because wouldn't that be ironic and oh my god can someone please stop me from talking because-"
"Stiles!"
The sound of Derek's voice rumbling out of his chest has Stiles startling like he's been shocked. He can feel his spine like the rigid bone that it is, as he turns to face the older man.
"You have to try and keep calm Stiles." Derek whispers, voice almost pleading, his hazel eyes boring into Stiles' own. "We're all here, we're all going to help you."
And then there's strong fingers clasped around his own, squeezing gently in reassurance, and it's like Stiles' can't catch a breath. He knows if he were still human he'd be flushed pink, all the way to his chest, but he isn't and the absence of heat in his face is just another reminder of the humanity he's lost.
There's a heavy sort of lump in his chest that's growing warmer the longer they gaze at each other, Derek's thumb tracing tiny circles on the back of his hand. And his insides are getting warmer, turning hot and rushing out into his blood stream. His lower abdomen bubbling with it, and he wants to never stop feeling like this, he wants Derek's everything pushed up against his own. He wants bruises in the shape of Derek's hands on his hips. He wants to be taken apart and rebuilt piece by agonizing piece by the beautiful man in front of him.
He wants...
He wants blood. Searing hot, juicy, delicious blood.
His vision floods crimson as scalpel sharp fangs slide out of his gums. His grip on Derek's hand turning crushing. It would be so easy to bite through the pale, tempting skin of the alpha's neck, his mouth flooding with the spicy sweat nectar that he could just drown in-
"Stiles stop this isn't you!" the alpha begs, the bones in his wrist snapping under slender fingers.
Feed. Feed. Feed.
"Come back to me Stiles. Fight this. Come back to me."
Derek sounds so pretty when he's desperate, looks so delicious when his wrists are bruised by him. And he's so close now, pinning Derek with all his weight, inches from where his pulse is fluttering so tantalizingly.
He can sense Damon in the background holding the pack and Caroline at bay. "He can do this, I won't let him kill your head dog, I just wanna see what happens."
Stiles wants to snort. As if Damon could take him on when he feels like this. Immortal and omnipotent, they'd all be dead before they could blink.
He does laugh then, a dark and dry laugh that has Derek shivering under him.
"Come on Stiles, you're stronger than this, I-" The alpha falters, green eyes completely unguarded as he gazes at the younger man.
"Kiss me."
Stiles jolts, his glowing red eyes narrowed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Kiss me Stiles. Please."
The switch flips so fast it almost gives Stiles whiplash, but then his lips are pressed to Derek's and nothing matters but them and this moment. There's nothing in the world but soft lips and gentle fingers carting through grown out hair.
Derek flips them so Stiles back is pressed into the plush cushions of the couch, using one arm to drag their hips together whilst the other fits around the curve of Stiles' jaw. It's perfect. And Stiles feels more human than he ever has, more alive than anything else has ever made him feel and -
The sound of Damon clearing his throat has the two men springing apart as if they'd been struck by lightening, causing a nervous giggle to erupt from Stiles as he takes in the three startled, (and one smug), faces of his friends.
"Well little Genim," Damon almost coos, his infamous smirk plastered on his face, "I think we've found your anchor."
Turns out that Derek's blush more than makes up for the fact that Stiles can't any more.