Everything is revealed...

Scott POV

Sunday morning finds Scott on his back for the fifth time in an hour. Derek's looming over him, huffing and eyes red. "Try again."

Scott stands up, then crouches low. Every time he does this, Derek just grabs Scott by the back of the neck and throws him to the ground. So, Scott devises a new plan. As Derek starts to stalk towards him, Scott shoots to the right, out of Derek's immediate reach, and steps behind him, trying to get at Derek's back.

He's on the ground before he can raise a hand.

"Again," Derek says, stomping a little farther away.

Isaac's sitting on the porch steps, watching them while also maintaining the card game between him and Allison. She's winning. Scott can tell by the wide smile, and Isaac's determined frown.

Scott's too busy staring at the two of them, he doesn't notice what happened until he's staring up at the trees. Derek actually "attacked" him just then.

"Dude, what the hell is your problem?" Scott says, this time standing up and holding his ground. Isaac and Allison pause their game to watch.

Derek's nose twitches, and then he's roaring and punching a tree, completely wolfed out. He keeps going for a few more seconds, and Isaac and Scott place themselves between Derek and Allison. She notices, and scoffs.

That breaks Derek's concentration, and he stops with his fist in the air. He's breathing heavily, and his knuckles are bloody, but the skin itself is probably healed by now.

He turns toward them, wolf retreating. Scott takes a step forward. "Are you going to tell us what's going on?"

"Why the hell would I do that?" Derek shoots back.

"Because we're your friends, whether you like it or not." Scott glances back at Allison and Isaac, giving them a small smile. "Now..."

Derek growls again, and though Scott doesn't feel the need to bow down to him or whatever, he knows Isaac does. So, Scott moves until he's between Derek and Isaac and Allison.

"Why does everything have to be your problem? Why can't you let people be, leave them to solve their own problems. Huh? Maybe people don't like kids in their business. Did you ever think about that?"

Scott frowns. As soon as he opens his mouth, Derek says with him, "Of course." Derek continues. "Of course you do. Selfless, perfect Scott. Always there to swoop in and save the day. I mean, I don't think it would kill you to let me handle my own issues."

Derek curses under his breath, but both Scott and Isaac can hear it. Allison has one hand on her bow, the other on an arrow, and prepared to fire at a moment's notice.

Before Scott can say anything, Derek takes off into the woods, and Peter replaces him in a heartbeat. "Tragic." Peter tsks.

"What?" Scott asks. "What's tragic?"

Peter looks at the three of them, and laughs. "Wow. What an entanglement we have going on here." He takes a step forward, and Allison raises her bow, aiming at Peter's head.

"You killed my aunt."

"She killed my entire family," Peter says, head cocked to the left. "Truly fascinating."

Scott and Isaac glance at each other. Isaac says, "Uh, sure. Fascinating."

Peter chuckles again. "Do you not see it? Feel it?" He pauses, looking at them. "Goddamn know it?"

Allison says, "What do you want?" Her bow has not changed direction.

"You three," he points at them, "are adorable together. I must say."

They all look at each other, confused. "Okay," Scott says slowly. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Everything." Peter takes another step forward. Allison lands an arrow inches from Peter's foot.

"Not another step," she warns, aiming another arrow.

Peter wags a finger at her. "I knew I liked you for a reason." He holds his hands up. "But fine. I just wanted to say that Derek's jealous of you."

Isaac scoffs. "Sure. Yeah, that makes sense." When Peter's expression didn't change, Isaac clears his throat. "Uh, what is he, uh, jealous of, exactly?"

"Do I really have to repeat myself?" Peter asks. Scott narrows his eyes, trying to figure Peter's game. Then, Peter sighs. "Fine. Derek hates the fact that you all love each other, while he's Mr. Lonely."

Scott backs up until his heels hit the porch steps. Isaac's hand steadies him when he stumbles a bit. "Your point?" Scott asks.

Peter groans. "Jesus, why is this so difficult for you to understand? There is no point, idiots. I'm explaining what you wanted to know." He mumbles "assholes" as he walks away, but Scott's busy with Isaac and Allison to care.

They all sit on the steps.

"Something's up," Allison says first.

"I agree," Isaac says.

Scott nods. "Yeah. Derek? Jealous? Of us? Why?"

"Maybe," Allison starts, "Maybe it's because of Stiles."

Isaac and Scott turn to look at her. "Why Stiles?" Scott asks.

Allison tilts her head and taps her chin. "Maybe because Lydia and I possibly figured out why Stiles got hurt."

"He hit a deer," Scott says.

"Yes, but Lydia said she didn't feel anything before it happened. She didn't even know."

Isaac says, "Wait, that doesn't make sense."

"I know," Allison agrees.

Scott takes her hands in his. "Allison, tell me everything."

Parrish POV

Opening the door to the vet's office, Parrish is hit with how warm it is in the building. He tugs at his collar and rings the bell on the counter. Sheriff Stilinski had told him to go get Polly, one of their K-9 Unit dogs, from Alan Deaton.

"Be with you in a moment!" A voice calls out from the back, presumably Deaton's.

Parrish takes the time to think about Stiles, his soul mate. Well, more like his former soul mate. He wishes the woman who told him about why he was getting hurt randomly was here to help him. Parrish doesn't feel the same anymore, and he knows it's from their connection being broken. He doesn't even know what happened.

A man, Deaton, walks out, wiping his hands on a towel. "Sorry about that. How can I help you?" He throws the towel into a basket.

"I'm Deputy Jeremy Parrish and I'm here to pick up Polly."

Deaton nods. "Of course. Follow me." He holds open the gate for Parrish, and leads him to the back room where the dogs are being kept. Polly barks when she recognizes Parrish. "She's a very sweet girl. Hates needles, though." Deaton opens the cage, clipping the leash onto Polly's collar. Suddenly he stands up straighter. "You said your name was Parrish?"

He takes the leash and nods. "Yeah. Why?"

Deaton smiles. "Then I may be able to help you with your... other predicament."

"Other predicament?"

"As in, your soul mate predicament."

Parrish's eyes widen. "Wh-What? How do you know about that?"

"I know because my sister Marin is the one that told you while I'm the one who told Stiles."

"Sister?" It dawns on him almost instantly. "Morrell?" Deaton nods. "But," Parrish adds, his shoulders lowering, "me and Stiles aren't soul mates anymore."

Deaton takes this information in. Then he says, "I see. You know, when Stiles first came in, I knew it right away. Soul mates are particularly rare, and I've only met one before him. However, unlike the one I have met, Stiles rejected the notion of a soul mate immediately. While you felt very little pain from Stiles' injuries, he felt yours completely because you didn't mind having a soulmate."

The weight of what Deaton says hits Parrish like a sack of bricks. "You mean every time I got hurt, Stiles got it all, but if he got hurt, I didn't feel a thing?" Deaton nods, and Parrish is speechless for a moment. "I got attacked by bear, shot, worked at the front desk for years, enduring paper cuts and bumped knees and sprained ankles! I thought whoever was at the other end of our connection was just really well-kept and didn't get hurt all too often and now-"

"You couldn't have known," Deaton says, clearly trying to calm Parrish down. "Even if you did, it wouldn't have changed anything. Stiles didn't want a soul mate, so he closed himself off; you never felt anything. You wanted one, so you kept the connection open."

"So then why did the connection just break now? Why not when he realized he had a soul mate?"

Deaton frowns. "That I am unsure of. Once again, I had only met one other person with a soul mate and she had yet to find them. Not a lot is written about them either. What I have read is very unreliable."

"Why?"

"The ones who wrote them do not have soul mates themselves. It would be very biased."

"I understand." Parrish looks down at Polly, sitting and smiling up at him. "Is there anything you can tell me?"

Deaton considers this, then purses his lips. "What I do know is that connections are rarely broken. When they are, strange happenings occur. What Stiles went through is actually not surprising. You see, the universe believed you and Stiles were meant to be together. He decided he didn't want that, actively sought against it, and the universe punished him for it."

"How are they broken? What causes it to happen?"

"The most common case is requited love. When one half of a soul mate rejects the idea, as you already know, the connection is already low. But when a person starts to fall in love with another, the connection starts to split. Of course, it will remain with the original half because the love is not shared with the new potential connection. So if the feelings become mutual, the connection frays with the original, and eventually is cut off completely, not matter the feelings of the original soul mate."

Parrish takes in the information, rocking back and forth on his heels. "So what happens now? If Stiles is in-"

"What do you want?" Deaton asks.

Parrish is brought up short by the question. He's been so concerned for Stiles that he didn't even think about himself. "I want..." He doesn't know. He has no idea. "I want..."

Deaton lays a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to decide right now, but you should think about it. Remember that you are a person with feelings. No one would fault you for being upset at this turn of events."

Parrish nods. He gestures to Polly. "We better be off then. Thank you, Deaton."

"Of course. I aim to help all who need me." Deaton smiles at Parrish. "I hope everything works out for you."

Parrish nods, and walks out, Polly pulling on the leash harder than usual.

I'll tell Stiles tomorrow, Parrish thinks. Tomorrow.

Derek POV

There is no precise point when you start to develop certain feelings for someone. It usually starts out as animosity, which somehow morphs to attraction. This is Derek's reason for staring at Stiles when he should be focusing on Peter's endless babble.

Stiles isn't even doing anything, and Derek immediately thinks, What the ever loving hell?

It spirals out of control from there. Next time, it's long after Stiles kept them afloat for two hours while the kanima stalked around the pool. Stiles had his back to the rest of them, and headed towards his own car on autopilot. Derek kept staring, like at the meeting a few days earlier, and thinks, Well he's not ugly.

Then, Stiles is taken by Gerard, and he sees the aftermath on his face (can sense the pain he's really in) before he stabs Jackson in the stomach with his claws.

I don't think he's supposed to be attractive right now.

Meaningless little mental comments. At least, until Stiles slept-walked into the woods. Derek had a perfectly nice apartment, could make it feel like home, but he likes the smell of his house, home, the easy remembrance of the layout, closing his eyes and hearing his mother yell at him and Laura for crashing through a wall while fighting, and Peter laughing at them.

"Derek," Stiles says from outside, but it's slurred and quiet. Derek immediately thinks Stiles is drunk, but then he hears the slow, even thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat and the fact that his eyes are closed. "Mmph, asshole."

Derek chuckles, and goes down the stairs and out to Stiles. "Stiles?"

Stiles is shaking and his lips are faintly blue. He's only wearing a thin shirt and long pants that are tattered at the ends. He's clearly been outside for a while

He leans forward and shakes Stiles' arm. He's freezing. "Stiles?"

Stiles wakes up. He has... big brown eyes.

Derek steps back. Has to. He's going to kiss the kid if he doesn't.

So, Derek guesses there can be a point.

"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Especially fuck you."

Stiles is a little... let's go with indisposed... at the moment. He's cursing every nurse that walks by his room, every single one. Doesn't matter what they look like. Male with black hair. Male with blond hair. Female with red hair. Female with goddamn rainbow hair.

He's pissed, but relaxed, if that makes sense. (Let's see, a little high on morphine? Yes, makes sense.) He wants one person to walk in (or sail through the window, whatever), and he's not, and Stiles is getting progressively more and more angry as the hours tick by.

"Who the hell are you? Wait, I don't care. Fuck you," he says as a new nurse walks in. He's tall, and looks too much like... "Wow, fuck me."

The nurse chuckles. "That'd be against policy."

Stiles laughs, too loudly, but the nurse is still smiling. "You're much funnier than the other ones."

He shrugs. "I have a better sense of humor."

"I agree. No one even bothered looking at me." Stiles licks his lips. "You remind me of someone."

"Really?" He says, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles nods. "Yeah. He doesn't have as good of a sense of humor as you, but he makes good comebacks when the time suits him." He smirks. "He's also ridiculously handsome as well."

"Well that's saying something," he states. The nurse walks by Stiles' bed, and closes the window Stiles didn't even know was open. Stiles smiles widely as the nurse walks out of the room.

"I still hate you," Stiles says first.

Derek appears from behind the bathroom door. "I figured." He steps into the room, and closes the curtain so no one could see inside. "But I need to apologize."

Stiles narrows his eyes. "Why?"

Glaring, Derek looms over him. "Why? Are you being purposely being an idiot?"

He shrugs. "I don't think so."

"You have a goddamn soul mate! I- we had no right to kiss when someone out there-" Derek clears his throat. "I'm sorry, and I would appreciate it if we didn't talk about it anymore." Derek turns his back, and Stiles is scared out of his mind that Derek won't come back and Stiles is pretty sure he has a new bond with Derek, but of his own choice.

Stiles wants to test this theory, but as he's frantically looking around, he can't find anything, and Derek still isn't looking at him.

"Derek," he says, throat now dry and raspy. "Derek. Please-"

"No, Stiles." Derek takes a deep breath, one Stiles sees as he's trying to prove a point. "It's not fair to them."

Stiles chuckles. "There is no him, or her, or anyone really." He gives up looking for something to hurt himself with. "Will you sit down, please. I don't think you understood my story very well."

"Clearly," Derek mumbles, but sits down nevertheless.

"Okay, listen here veeeery carefully. I don't have a soul mate anymore. Do you understand that? I went to Parrish's house to talk to him. So I did, and then he told me that we don't have a connection anymore. That's it."

Derek thinks about it. "Who-" He pauses. "Parrish is on the police force?"

Stiles nods. "Yeah. He's new."

"And he is your soul mate?"

"Was," Stiles corrects. "Was. Not anymore. Are you even listening?"

"How?"

"How am I supposed to know? All I know is that one minute we're soul mates, and the next he's telling me we're not and that he wants to find out why." Stiles glances at Derek, then averts his eyes to the thread he's picking at on the bed.

Derek's silent for a bit, and Stiles continues avoiding eye contact. He's supposed to be happy, or at least glad he and Parrish aren't soul mates anymore. Instead, Stiles is wishing for some connection, something to fill the emptiness in his mind.

Sighing, Stiles covers his eyes with his hand and leans back in the bed. "Can you just pinch yourself really hard. Not like werewolf strength, but enough to hurt a fragile human like me."

And Stiles totally did not gasp and squeal in glee when he did feel something. It was small, but there. He sits up and stares at his arm. "Told you! Why do people never listen to me when I'm always right? Because honestly-"

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to kiss you again."

"Yes, please."