By the time he wakes up the next morning, Stiles is feeling a hundred percent better. Almost like he is a whole new person. He's smiling at his dad, cracking jokes, even giving his dad a hug before the Sheriff heads off to work. His dad smiles back, tentatively, then widely when he figures his son is back in order.
Stiles doesn't mind. He's going to get answers today. Last night is a bit fuzzy to remember, but there's a piece of paper on the ground next to Stiles' bed with a time and place on it, so it's pretty easy to connect the dots.
Speaking of... Stiles glances at the clock and curses when he sees that he has ten minutes to get to the cafe. He grabs his keys, jumps into his car, and guns it down the street.
(One of the things that he didn't forget was the look on Derek's face when he brought Stiles to the station. Stiles has to stop himself every time it comes up.)
Parrish was already there, two coffees and bagels on the table in front of him, reading a novel he brought. He looks up when Stiles clears his throat.
"Stiles," he says as he scrambles to stand up. "Sorry. I, just, wasn't expecting you... here... yet."
Stiles squints. "You're the one who invited me out."
Parrish laughs, and Stiles finds himself chuckling a little too. "Yeah. Sorry, again."
Stiles sits, grabbing the bagel and coffee right away. He takes a bite, and sips his coffee while he waits for Parrish to start.
"I, uh," Parrish clears his throat. "Right. So, I don't know if you realized or forgot or something, but we don't feel each other's pain anymore."
Stiles chokes a little on his coffee, because yes. He'd forgot about that tiny detail. "Oh, yeah. That." Stiles sets down the cup. He then pinches his arm as hard as he can. Parrish only smiles.
"Told you." Parrish rubs his arm anyway. "It's like a fake pain. I can't feel it at all, but when I know you're doing it, it's almost like I can." He shakes his head. "It's strange."
"Who told you about... us?" Stiles asks. The only people who knew about it were Scott, Derek, Melissa, and Deaton. Wait-
"Uh, a nurse from my old town. I got mauled by a bear, you probably remember, and she told me about us. I didn't believe her at first until I started getting hurt when it wasn't my fault."
"What was her name?"
Parrish scratches her head. "I'm not sure. Started with an M. Uh, Mortia. Mostan. Moddie."
"Morrell?" Stiles asks.
"Yeah!" Parrish laughs. "How'd you know?"
Stiles slumps in his chair. Wow. They really are everywhere. "Just a hunch."
"Right," Parrish says, rolling his eyes in a kind-hearted manner. "Hunch. Anyway. Not why I asked you to meet me here. I want to talk about us."
"What about us?"
"About the fact that we're no longer soul mates."
Stiles freezes. "What?"
Parrish nods. "Yeah. Didn't you feel it last night? The connection... broke."
"Connection?"
"The bond, or whatever. What makes me feel your pain, and you mine. Morrell told me that your pain was more subdued on my end because you were, what was the word." Parrish thinks for a moment, then shrugs and sits up in his seat. "Anyways, there's a reason. We just have to find it."
Stiles doesn't want to, but if it'll appease Parrish (and eventually make him leave Stiles alone), then Stiles is all for it.
Derek POV
Well, Derek thinks as he sighs, staring across the street, that's that.
Stiles is laughing, head thrown back, and the man across from him is clearly his soul mate, smiling along with him. Derek finds himself both smiling and looking straight at the ground. "Three days," he says to himself. "Three days."
Three days of silence. Three days of solitude. Three days and I will be happy for him. Three days.
Derek takes one more look up, and hides in a crowd when Stiles turns his head to look towards where Derek was just standing. He decides, as he walks with some strangers (one looks like she wants to eat him), that he needs to leave town for a few days.
Go north. Go west. Go south. It doesn't matter. As long as he's gone for three days, he'll go straight up into the atmosphere if that's what it takes.
It's all he needs right now.
It's apparently not what the universe wants.
As Derek drives out of town, he swerves around a deer and hits a lamp post.
(He's still not sure whether he should be thankful or not.)
(Scratch that. He definitely is.)
Stiles drives over to Scott's later that night, needing to talk to both him and Melissa. Scott will be so excited to find out that Stiles' "soul mate" isn't his "soul mate" anymore, and Melissa probably never believed him in the first place. Stiles realizes it's been too long since he's seen her.
He goes to knock on the door, only to be attacked by four strong arms. "Um, ow!"
Melissa and Scott laugh and pulls back. They're both smiling widely, and Stiles is automatically worried.
"Stiles," Melissa says.
"Hey, buddy," Scott says.
"Why are you both so happy?" Stiles asks.
Scott drapes an arm around Stiles' shoulder, and drags him inside the house. "Your dad called earlier, said you'd be by later to talk to us."
Stiles shrugs. "So?"
Scott gently punches Stiles' arm. "Well, who is it?"
Good God, Stiles thinks. I forget how smart Scott is sometimes. "Did my dad tell you?"
"No, obviously." Scott smirks. "Tell us. We want to be happy for you."
Stiles tries frowning at the two of them, but can't, and instead smiles right back. "New Deputy. Jeremy Parrish."
"Really?" Melissa says. She leans in a little closer, and whispers, "Is he cute?"
Scott gasps, and Melissa laughs. "What?"
"Mom!" Scott runs out of words, and instead reverts to making unintelligible sounds and hand gestures. "Mom."
"I'm just asking! Jeez." Melissa holds her hands up in surrender, but winks at Stiles behind Scott's back.
Scott rolls his eyes. "So. You met him? What's he like?"
Stiles bites his lip. "He's cool. But uh," Stiles rubs the back of his head. "We're kinda... not... soul mates... anymore."
Melissa and Scott stare at him. Scott gapes. "What? How? What happened?"
"I don't even know." Stiles laughs a little. "But I feel it now. Well, more like don't feel it. The bond, or whatever, is gone."
"So," Scott says. "He can't hurt you anymore. That's good. Right? I mean. He's a cop. He could've got shot."
Stiles nods, and glances at Melissa, who's now wearing a concerned expression. "Yeah," he says, minutely shaking his head, a sign to Melissa to not bring it up. "I just... hope Parrish can move on."
Scott laughs after a second, and Stiles joins in. Melissa apparently doesn't get it, so she leaves the two of them alone. Stiles and Scott spend the rest of the day holed up in his room playing video games.
Stiles definitely needs it. And he's having fun, shoving Scott to the side when a race starts, Scott pushing back and Stiles falling off the bed. (Stiles laughs anyways).
They've been playing for three hours when Scott's phone starts ringing. Scott stares at the number, smiles widely, and answers, walking out of the room as he does so. "Hey, Allison," he says before Stiles stops paying attention.
Scott's out of the room for half an hour, and by the time he comes back, Stiles is prepping to leave. Scott looks like he's about to apologize (the puppy he is), but Stiles stops his with a hand. "Dude. Don't even worry."
"But-"
"Hey," Stiles says, walking over to Scott. "Allison's special to you. Trust me when I say I get it." Stiles smiles. "See you tomorrow. Same time, but you're buying pizza. Homemade sucks."
Scott laughs, and hugs Stiles, giving him a pat on the back. "You'll find yours too, you know."
Stiles subtly holds Scott harder. "I know."
They let go, and Stiles calmly walks out of the house, then sprints to his car. His movements are fast, trying to open the door and close it behind him at the speed of light. He doesn't bother with a seatbelt, and rushes to start the car. It takes three agonizing tries before it starts.
He drives as fast as allowed to get to Derek's loft. Ten miles over the speed limit, but since it's of serious importance, Stiles thinks he will be able to weasel his way out of a ticket if it came to it.
Too bad he doesn't see the deer until he hits it.
Derek POV
The guy is taking too long to fix the car. He may be the only mechanic open this late, but Derek still wants to get a move on. He glances at his phone, sees it's 1:30 in the morning, and groans.
It wasn't anything serious. Just some front bumper damage. Light bumper damage. Shouldn't have cost more than a few hundred.
"We're looking at around," the mechanic says, checking the car, "a thousand."
"A thousand? Are you kidding me? It's a piece of fucking plastic on the front of the car," Derek says, tone tight with anger.
"Yeah," the mechanic says, slowly backing away. He pretends to look at the car again, writes some gibberish on a piece of paper, and turns back to Derek. "So, around three hundred."
Derek sighs, and smiles. "Perfect." He pulls out his wallet, slaps the money in the mechanic's hand, and walks outside for some air.
He collapses on his hands and knees without warning. Trouble breathing, mouth filling with invisible liquid, torso on fire, head thumping. Derek has no idea what's going on, but he already hates it.
The next thought almost knocks him out.
"I get hurt when it's not my fault. Cuts, bruises, gun-shots. They get it, I get it."
Well, apparently Derek has some sort of soul mate. (Wait, what the hell? He's Derek Hale. Family burned to death in a fire from a woman who used him as a kid. Alpha werewolf with no Pack. Why would he have a soul mate?)
Another wave of nausea and the possibility of blacking out, and Derek sits back on his heels, taking deep breaths and refusing to call to the mechanic to get an ambulance. This will pass.
Five minutes later, Derek is still in his weird pain-not-pain phase, so he calls Deaton.
"Derek? What's wrong?"
"Help," is all Derek can mutter. Then, like a weight has been lifted off his chest, he can breathe normally and the pseudo-pain washes away. "Okay. That was-" Stiles. Find Stiles.
"Derek. Are you okay?"
"Fine. Where's Stiles?" Derek stands up, breathing deep and closing his eyes to open his senses. He hears cars, people, dogs, and an ambulance. Ambulance. That could be anyone, Derek's rational mind says. But it could be Stiles, the unreasonable part protests. "Alan. Call the Sheriff. Tell him to go to the hospital."
"Why?" Deaton asks, but Derek can hear the possibilities running through the man's head. Hell, he's already on the move towards the hospital.
"Stiles is in trouble."