Discalimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the characters.
Author's note: I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
"Hello, boys," the witch said as she set her coffee cup down on the table, her crimson-painted lips curling up into a smirk.
She really didn't look like how Stiles had always imagined witches to look. There were no warts on her perfectly made up face and her chestnut hair was styled so that not a single hair was out of place; it was nothing like the scraggly black locks that the witches in his books had when he was a kid. If Stiles had to compare the way she looked to something, he would say she resembled those rich women who wandered around expensive department stores clutching designer handbags like a lifeline.
Derek was furious at the sight of her, and apparently the witch sensed the tirade that he was about to go on because she held up one manicured hand and said, "Now, now. We don't want to draw any unwanted attention to ourselves, do we? Not in front of your lovely friends at the counter."
Stiles placed a hand on Derek's forearm; he could feel the tension running through the older man like high voltage electricity. He knew how Derek felt because he felt it all too, but he also knew that causing a scene wouldn't make anything better. Stiles had a feeling that if they wanted to get things sorted out they would have to play by the witch's rules.
"She's right," Stiles said quietly.
He half expected Derek to turn on him and start some huge argument but to his surprise and relief Derek just took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose in a self-soothing gesture before nodding.
The seemingly perpetual smirk on the witches lip intensified as she took in the scene before her.
"Take a seat, boys," she commanded.
As soon as they were sitting in the two seats opposite the witch Derek leaned forward with his elbows on the table and spoke through gritted teeth, "What the hell have you done to us?"
"Oh, calm down, darling," the witch patronised. "And stop growling at me, would it kill you to at least pretend not to be a wild animal?"
Instead of finding the way Derek's nostrils flared in outrage hilarious like he usually would, Stiles felt offended on his behalf. When it came to facing down the witch he and Derek were on the same team and he wouldn't let her get away with insulting his teammate.
"Hey!" Stiles interjected. "He's not a wild animal, he's pissed that you've dropped us in some alternate reality, or whatever this is, and so am I. You can't just play with people's lives like this."
Stiles was so intent on staring down the witch that he missed the way Derek's brows furrowed in confusion at Stiles' defence of him.
The witch snorted. "Yes I can. And the more I watch you two interact, the more I realise just how right I really was about you two."
Both Stiles and Derek demanded to know what she was talking about.
"If you would both be silent for just a few moments, I will explain this entire situation to you," the witch informed them.
"This better be good," Stiles warned, hoping he sounded at least a little bit menacing. He doubted it though.
"This world," the witch began with a wave of her hand. "As you both keep referring to it, is merely the result of the spell I cast on you yesterday. The spell allows the caster to give those on the receiving end a glimpse, if you will, of how the future could be if they altered something in their life."
Derek huffed in frustration and was about to interrupt with questions, but the witch continued to speak.
"Now, in this case, the variable I chose to alter is the way that you treat each other. You are rude to each other, you go out of your way to start fights with each other, you behave as though you loathe one another, and yet you can't leave each other alone."
Stiles and Derek both bristled at that. So what if they got a mutual enjoyment out of pissing each other off? It was none of her business.
"The energy between you both was so palpable that it had the hairs on my arms standing up and I thought to myself 'what is these two idiots took their heads out of their backsides long enough to realise how well they could work together if they just treated each other with a little bit of respect. And then there was a moment when you," she said, pointing at Derek. "Had this one pinned up against a wall and I really wasn't sure if you were about to head butt him or kiss him passionately and thoroughly-"
"WHAT?" was the stunned response that came from Stiles and Derek.
The witch grinned wickedly at them, "You heard me. So after that delightful display of homoeroticism, I just couldn't help myself. I had to cast the spell."
"I don't get why you would even waste your time though," Stiles spoke, his brows knitted together in bewilderment. "Like, let's just say you're right for a second and me and Derek have the potential to be the happiest couple in the world – which we don't, just FYI – why do you care if we realise that or not."
The witch made a quiet humming noise as she considered Stiles' question before lifting her green eyes to meet his.
"I don't know really," she began. She leaned forward a little as if she was about to tell them a huge secret, "I've always been a bit of a hopeless romantic. My sisters have always made fun of me for it."
For the first time since they had met her, she seemed sincere; her gaze was honest and the small smile on her lips was far from the sly smirk she had been wearing almost constantly.
"So, you're using us as your own personal rom-com, is that it?" Derek asked, his face screwed up in a mixture of confusion and disgust.
"Basically," the witch confirmed, completely back to her original persona. "Don't look so outraged, I am certain that by the end of this whole experience you both will be thanking me."
"I doubt that," Stiles told her, his voice flat.
"Well, we'll see, won't we?" She replied. "Now there's only one rule: no one can know that you are not from this world; it would damage the dynamics of the spell. The only person who can know is Alpha McCall. He is your alpha so he would know straight away that you weren't the versions of you both that he knows, and he will also be able to inform you of the details of your life here so that you will be able to act convincingly."
Derek folded his arms purposefully and narrowed his eyes, "What makes you think that we're going to abide by any of your rules?"
"Because if you don't I will continue to recast the spell until you eventually behave correctly. So, I think you'll agree that it would make things easier if you both do as I ask."
Stiles huffed in defeat, and a glance over at Derek showed the older man doing the same.
"How long are we going to be here for?" Stiles asked, knowing there was no use in fighting the witch.
"Ah," she sighed. "You're not going to like the answer to that question."
"How long?" Derek demanded. The menace in his voice sent a shiver down Stiles' spine; Derek could be a scary guy when he really tried.
"There's no way of knowing for certain. In some cases the spell has lasted a few days, in others it has been years. It just depends on how long the spell takes to run its course."
Stiles' pulse began to rocket at the prospect of being stuck in a world that wasn't his own. He tried to quell the panic that was expanding in his chest at an alarming rate by taking deep breaths, but it didn't help. He braced his hands on his thighs as a thick cloud of terror settled over him and shut him off from the rest of the world. Frightening thoughts ran through his mind on a sickening loop; my dad is going to worry himself into an early grave when he realises I'm gone, Scott's going to be left without a best friend, who's going to do the research for the pack when the next evil creatures turns up in Beacon Hills?
Strong, warm hands reached through the fog and gripped Stiles' forearms and he tried his best to focus on the feeling of the fingers curled around his arms and trust that those hands would bring him back.
"It's okay, Stiles. You're fine, just breathe."
The voice in his ear was soothing and steady; there wasn't even a hint of fear in it which made Stiles feel safer. It sounded like the voice of someone trustworthy to Stiles' ears, so he did as the person asked and forced himself to drag big gulps of air into his lungs.
"You're doing great. You're safe," Derek promised. Derek. The person speaking was Derek, Stiles realised.
He kept breathing as deep and as evenly as he could manage until the wild panic had receded. When he was able to open his eyes again he was faced with Derek crouching down in front of him, a small frown on his face.
"You alright?" Derek asked.
Stiles nodded and pulled himself back into an upright position, "Yeah I'm good, just kinda freaked out there for a minute."
Derek listened intently for an uptick in Stiles' heartbeat that would tell him that he really wasn't okay but there was none. When he was satisfied he stood back up and took his place in his chair again.
"Stiles' kicked gently at Derek's leg to get his attention. "Thanks," he said quietly when Derek was looking at him again.
Derek merely nodded in reply.
The witch cleared her throat exaggeratedly to get their focus back on her.
"If you're both quite finished with that sweet little display, I'll continue explaining things, shall I?"
Both Stiles and Derek just glared at her in response.
"I think you may have misunderstood me when I said the spell can last for years, Stiles. It will feel like years to you but when the spell is over you will wake up in your own bed and no time at all will have passed. None of your friends or family will know anything has happened to you unless you tell them when you wake up, and before you ask – yes, you will wake up. Do you have any other questions?"
When neither Stiles nor Derek bothered to answer her, the witch stood and picked up her expensive-looking, red leather hand bag.
"Well, I think that's everything you need to know from me. All I have to say now, is try and make the most of this experience; from what I've seen so far, the pair of you seem to have quite a nice life here."
Stiles snorted in derision at that, "Whatever you say."
The witch began to walk away but stopped just at the exit of the coffee shop. "Oh, I forgot to mention one last thing: the caster does not decide on the outcome of the spell, only the variable that will be changed. So, the fact that, in this world, you two are in a long term, loving relationship has nothing to do with me. I mean, I had a hunch, of course, but I couldn't be one hundred percent sure; for all I knew the result of the spell could have been that you two really are just incompatible and no amount of respectful treatment could change that, but that hasn't been the case. I'll let you two mull that over."
And then she was gone and Stiles and Derek were left staring at the door trying to fight off the awkwardness that had settled around them in her wake.
Derek cleared his throat in an attempt to break the heavy silence between them. When he spoke his voice sounded strained and Stiles was sure that if he tried to speak up he would sound exactly the same. The witch's parting words were kind of a big bombshell to have dropped on them; things had been much easier when they thought that the witch had created every aspect of this foreign world.
"I think we should try and get in touch with Scott now," was all Derek could manage to say before lapsing into another silence fraught with all of their unsaid thoughts.
A/n: I'm looking for a beta reader for this fic so if you're interested let me know in the comments or message me on tumblr (my url is warriorhale). Previous experience with beta reading or editing would be great but as long as you're good with grammar and punctuation it's not necessary!