#to knock shit off dressers/desks/counters/the bar

[imwritesometimes]

You would never guess he committed several very bad crimes today

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking For A Place to Happen 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, drunkenness, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: The second last chapter of Sam for y’all! 

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 6: Making stops along the way

💀💀💀

You laid on your side and hugged the covers as the bed shifted beside you. Sweaty, sore, exhausted, and the sun was only just dimming beyond the window. Sam’s broad back tensed as he sat up and stretched his arms above him. You could still feel him inside you, not that any reprise lasted long.

He said nothing as you heard the knock again. You barely noticed before but the pounding got louder as Sam pulled on grey jogging pants and chuckled. You groaned and hid your face against the duvet. Every move sent a thrumming pain through you, and agonized emptiness you resented.

Your knee hit the toy as it rolled against you and you flinched. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if it was him or the silicone stretching you. How had it only been a few hours? It felt like you’d been there for days.

“Damn it,” the voice grumbled from the other room, low and muffled by the wall, “I told you I was coming by.”

You recognized it from that fateful night at The Asp; deep and sinister. As brief as your encounter with the man, you could guess he was rarely anything but irritable.

“Calm down,” Sam replied lightly, “I got other things to do…”

“You got business,” Bucky retorted.

“Money’s in the bag,” you heard a soft rustle and a harrumph.

“Should’ve brought it direct,” Bucky complained.

“I’ve been taking care of your other problem,” Sam countered smoothly as you heard heavy footsteps move around the front room.

“I see that,” Bucky mused, his voice clearer, closer.

You lifted your head and quickly hid your bare leg and ass under the blanket. He chuckled as Sam neared and crossed his arms over his thick chest.

“She knows the rules now,” Sam said, “got it all under control.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his chin and turned to Sam, “yeah, yeah, well… my girl…”

“Nice woman… stubborn like you,” Sam remarked.

“Stubborn’s a word for it. She’s, uh, concerned,” he said carefully, “about the girl. Says she’s young--”

“Not deaf either,” you sat up as you clung to the duvet.

He squinted at you and you flinched. Sam glanced at you and tapped a finger against his lips for you to be quiet.

“You know Steve’s girl is having that little thing at the bar. Her birthday or some shit.”

“Steve won’t shut up about it,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“He’s sweet on her. Too sweet.” Bucky sniffed, “Anyway, bring the girl, need mine to stop worrying.”

“Ah, sure, when was it again?”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky jutted his jaw out, “actually…” he peeked over at you as he thought, “take her by my lady’s place. The girls will be there getting all dolled up.”

“I’m busy--” you began and Bucky snapped his fingers at you.

“You said she knew the rules,” he pointed at Sam, “maybe you should remind her before I have to see her again.”

He turned and you saw his leather jacket as he stomped away, seizing a leather bag from the coffee table as he passed. The door slammed in his stead and Sam leaned against the wooden frame to look at you. He shook his head and sighed.

“Don’t know what it is about that man and women,” he gave a smirk, “but y’all sure do like to take the piss out of him.”

💀

It was easy enough to find any house in Birch, there were only so many. As you were realising too late, this was detrimental, not just to you but many in the thrall of the club’s clutches. There was no place to hide from those men and their cruelty.

He handed you your phone back before he let you go. He warned that you better use it wisely. He would meet you at the bar later; you were to make your way over with the group of women you didn’t know.

You neared the front door of the yellow house and knocked. You waited nervously, the cold air slipping in under your long jacket. A woman opened the door and you wondered if you were at the wrong place. Typical. You could even get lost in Birch.

“Oh, you must be the last,” she chimed, “I’m Mel.”

You smiled and awkwardly gave your name. She beckoned you inside and you added your boots and coat to those already by the door. You dressed for the occasion, Sam approved of the outfit with a growl after advising you to wear something slutty. You hadn’t worn the tight leather leggings and the strappy crop top since your club days in your two years of community college.

Mel looked you over but made no remark on your attire as she pointed up the stairs, “to the left, you’ll hear them.”

You ascended and the low hum of 90s music and female voices reached you from the slightly open door just down the hall. You neared and knocked as you waited tentatively. You knew Bucky’s girl from the bar but never had the chance to talk to her. You never did well with strangers, always the weird one, the funny one.

“Hey,” Bucky’s girl swung open the door, “just in time.”

“Um, hi,” you stepped into the small bedroom, “I brought tequila.”

You held up the bottle as you peered around. The mechanic was on the bed, her brows arched sardonically as she watched the quiet baker girl that sat at the slim desk and checked her appearance in a hand mirror. She hovered a stick of eyeliner in front of her face but never made contact with her skin as she bared her teeth. You put the bottle down on the corner of the dresser.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she wisped but quieted at her name as Bucky’s girl introduced them, “oh, hi.”

You smiled and stared quietly. You chuckled nervously and rung your hands. “Did you need help? I’ve watched some, um, Youtube stuff on it--”

“Sure,” she lowered the mirror in defeat, “I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“That’s a lame present,” the mechanic said, “make-up? When you don’t even use it? I always knew Steve was a bitch--”

“At least he got me something,” she handed over the stick of liner as you neared and Bucky’s girl pushed a cushioned chest up from the corner for you to sit, “my pa never did.”

“Just because he’s less of an ass than your pa doesn’t mean he’s not an ass,” the mechanic spat as she pulled at the front of her stiff dress, black with little gems set into the fabric.

“Oh, and look at you, wearing that clown suit,” Bucky’s girl intoned, “we’re all in the same boat.”

“What kinda look you going for?” you asked as you cleared your throat.

“I… don’t know, something pretty,” she smiled meekly.

You nodded and looked over your shoulder at the bottle of tequila. You peeked back at the girl as she squirmed nervously.

“We should do some shots,” you said, “it’s your birthday, right? You should have fun… try to relax.”

“Her, relax?” The mechanic scoffed.

“Shots sound good, I’ll get some glasses,” Bucky’s girl said from behind you.

She left and you asked the baker to close her eyes. You held her head carefully as you stretched her eyelid and traced it carefully. It was much easier to do on someone else. You added a little wing and balanced out her other eye before you sat back.

Bucky’s girl plunked four short amber shot glasses on the dresser and poured as you went over the gift bag full of make-up with Steve’s girl. She chose a rosy shade of pink that you gently applied to her lips.

Bucky’s girl handed out the glasses. The mechanic didn’t flinch or wait before she downed hers. Steve’s girl frowned as she took hers and you gave a thank you as you accepted a glass. 

“I can already feel the burn,” the baker girl bemoaned.

“Come on, loosen up,” you raised your shot and downed it, “jeez, how old are y’all?”

“Old enough to know better,” Bucky’s girl said, “you know, you really got yourself in the shit but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you.”

“Oh you mean the local den of assholes,” you snorted, “shot, shot, shot.”

You encouraged Steve’s girl until she reluctantly knocked back the tequila. You took her glass and your own and went to the dresser. You refilled them and offered her the second.

“You really don’t learn,” the mechanic blinked.

“No, I do but I’d rather be drunk and miserable than sober and miserable,” you raised your shot, “and you guys, this,” you pointed to them, “the look, sure you got some years but you’re still young enough. You needa show some skin.”

“It’s below zero,” Bucky’s girl narrowed her eyes.

“The tequila will keep you warm,” you nudged Steve’s girl and mirrored her as you drained your shot.

“She’s gonna get us all killed,” the mechanic muttered.

“No, I’m gonna get you lit,” you grabbed the bottle and turned up the little speaker in the corner before shimmying over to her. You filled her glass and took a swig directly from the bottle, “also, I can hardly feel anything anymore.”

💀

“I’m telling you,” you slurred, “you can’t wear that! We stop by my place and I’ll get you the look.”

“The look?” Bucky’s girl interjected, “you mean the hypothermic style?”

“My nan has more style than all of you,” you stumbled off the main road away from the bar, “come on!”

“We’re gonna be late,” Steve’s girl squeaked.

“For what? It’s your birthday,” you grabbed her hand and ran ahead.

The other two followed a few feet back as you led them down to your nan’s house. You dragged her up the steps and leaned heavily on the door as you burst through. The smell of cigarette smoke met your nostrils as your grandmother appeared in the door of the front room and puffed as she watched you sway.

“Nan!” you dropped the baker girl’s hand and outstretched your arms as you grandmother swiftly sidestepped you and sucked on her cigarette.

“I see you’ve made friends,” she tutted, “try not to make a mess of my house or you’ll be cleaning it up, drunk or not.”

“We won’t be here long, we just need clothes… you got any of that wine left?”

“No more for you, girly,” she chided.

“Girls, girls, girls,” you turned back, “this is my nan. She kills bikers.”

“Shut your mouth, girly,” your grandma snarled, “you might be three sheets to the wind but words carry.”

“Do you?” the mechanic spoke up, more and more quiet as she imbibed.

Your nan gave her a long look. There was a moment of silence, understanding, commiseration. The old lady shrugged and tilted her head.

“I haven’t messed with bikers since 1978 and I don’t plan on starting again,” she butted out the cigarette in the empty coin tray on the console table, “go on, get what you need and get out.”

“Ugh, fine,” you moped away and waved the girls up the stairs behind you. 

You leaned heavily on the railing as you ascended and they followed behind you in disorder, several times supporting each other in the climb. Inside your room, you pulled open your closet and looked at the impulse purchases you never had a chance to wear. You don’t know why you bought them, they were all cheap and generic, but you were always a sucker for a sale.

“Here,” you handed the mechanic as shiny silver top with straps, “I should have something to go with it.”

You handed out clothes like candy, some of the tags still attached so you ripped them off clumsily. The mechanic ended up in the silver top and black pleather leggings, Bucky’s girl in dark blue dress with cutouts that you ordered in the wrong size, and Steve’s girl in no more than bright red bra and some high rise jeans.

“We’re gonna freeze,” Bucky’s girl whined.

“Suck it up and put your coat on,” you snapped, “now, we’re ready for fun!”

“Steve’s not gonna like this,” the baker moaned.

“You need more alcohol! Who gives a shit what he thinks?” The mechanic nudged her, “he’s a prick.”

“They’re all pricks,” Bucky’s girl giggled, “what’s this?”

You turned as she pulled out the bottle of Smirnoff hidden in your top drawer. It was still sealed because you didn’t like the grape flavour but she quickly broke the plastic. She took a gulp and scrunched her face as she held it out to Steve’s girl.

“No more, it’s too much!”

“If only Thor hadn’t dragged his girl off,” Bucky’s girl pushed the bottle to Steve’s girl’s lips, “but we gotta make up for her, don’t we?”

“Shit, shit,” the mechanic chuckled and grabbed the bottle as the baker struggled to swallow, “we’re gonna get in some shit, girls.”

“Is that idiot ever happy? Loki? What a dumb name?” Bucky’s girl snarled.

“They all suck,” you added.

“Ugh, don’t get me started on Sam,” the mechanic wiped her glistening lips, “preying on a kid.”

“I’m not… not a kid,” you hiccuped.

“You didn’t know who Aaran Carter is,” Bucky’s girl said, “you’re a kid.”

You laughed and took a swig and cringed at the burn of the vodka, “I’m an adult.”

“Sure don’t act like it,” the mechanic said loudly.

“Who gives a fuck? Tonight, we don’t,” Bucky’s girl said, “come on, let’s go see those bastards and show ‘em we don’t fuckin’ care.”

You snickered as you found your coat where you left it on the bed and the lot of you staggered down the back steps and around the house. The winter air crawled over you and sent a shiver up your spine. You hardly felt it in the warm glow of the alcohol; not the cold, not the dread that had lingered for days, not even the regret. You were completely and pleasantly drunk out of your mind.

[moldisgoodforyou]

Damn I loved jealous rafe that was so hot... could we maybe get a really really REALLY jealous Sophie?? Obviously only if ur down for that, I adore your writing but want u to take care of urself drink ur water & be happy most importantly :)

hi I really appreciated the last half of this message thank you :) I’m not quite sure this is really really REALLY jealous but it’s still a lot of jealous! 

__ 

Colin’s sister, April, was hopelessly in love with Rafe. And Rafe had no clue.

She was a freshman and a film major, so Colin introduced the two so Rafe could give her advice on classes. She texted him at least once a week, usually more. After Colin brought her to their tailgate in November and Rafe was nice enough to make her a few (watered-down) drinks, then drop her off at her dorm, she was convinced Rafe felt the same way toward her.

The texts became constant enough for Sophie to notice, always seeing April’s name popping up on Rafe’s phone. April had taken the liberty of saving her phone contact for Rafe, as April 💛. Sophie didn’t want to be the jealous, imposing girlfriend straight away, so she did her best to ignore it.

As Rafe and Sophie were hanging out on the couches at Delt, she saw three texts pop up on his phone in a quick succession, and he swiped them away just as fast as they had came in.

Sophie leaned over, curious. “What’s my name saved as? In your phone?”

“Uh.” He took a moment to think, then scrolled through his contacts and showed her. “Just this.” She tried not to visibly react when she saw it, just saved as Sophie Flint. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah, I just kept it from when you saved it at the bar for me, remember? Does it matter?”

“No, uh, it doesn’t. Never mind.” She forced a smile and settled into his side and he returned to absent-mindedly playing with her hair.

“Why, what’s mine saved as?” He asked, reaching for her phone. She held it out of his reach. “Just Rafe.”

He grinned. “Not love of my life, Rafe Cameron?” She scowled and grabbed his hand, moving it back to her hair. “Definitely not.”

_

The next time April was brought up, Sophie was watching a movie with Rafe in his room, both of them sprawled out on the couch.

“Hey, dude. Me and April are gonna go grab dinner, you wanna come?” Colin asked, grabbing his wallet from the dresser. He gave Sophie a friendly smile. “Oh yeah, you can come too if you want, Sophie.”  

“Nah, we have plans to go meet up with Soph’s roommates. Tell her hi though.” Rafe declined. Sophie stayed uncharacteristically quiet, tucking into Rafe’s side. “Will do. She’ll miss seeing you.” Colin waved and headed out.

Rafe glanced down at Sophie, rubbing her arm. “You good, Soph?”

“Sure you don’t want to go hang out with her?”  

He looked confused. “No. Thought we made plans to grab pizza with Allie and Julia, was I wrong?” She scowled, just slightly. “No, we have plans. Never mind.”

“Okay...” He didn’t press the issue further, just turning up the TV volume a little more. After a while, she turned in her seat, sitting further away from him. “This movie’s kind of terrible, isn’t it?” He frowned. “But it’s Anna Karenina, I thought you liked Keira Knightley.”

“She cheats on her husband.” Sophie shifted again, putting even more distance between them. Rafe reached out and tugged at her ankle, trying to bring her closer. “Hey. You said you liked this movie.” She shook her head. “Never said that. Maybe you’re thinking of someone else.”

“Fine, maybe.” He slid his hand up her leg, but she flinched away, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Soph, what’s the deal?” He pulled his hand back.

“Nothing, what’s your deal?”

“My deal? I don’t have a deal. You’re acting weird.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not.”

“Sophie.” He frowned more. “Baby, come on.”

“Don’t call me that. You know, I’m gonna just go to dinner with the girls alone. You can go with April.” It was a test, and he didn’t know it. She paused before getting up, glancing over his body language.

He shrugged. “Okay, been meaning to catch up with her anyways.”

Sophie huffed. “Fine.” She grabbed her phone and stood, not giving him a second glance as she left.

_

The next time, Sophie was lying with Rafe on his bed, James in his. This was a fairly common occurrence, with Sophie comfortable hanging around his friends.

“Bro, did you see what April was wearing last week?” James asked, tossing a  tennis ball from his bed toward Rafe. He caught it one-handed, sitting up a little to toss it back to James. “No, was she at our party?”

“Yeah. Can’t believe she wore that dress, some guy was hanging all over her.” He frowned, shutting up the second Colin came in. Sophie raised her eyebrows. “What’s so wrong with the dress?”

Colin cocked his head. “What dress?”

“None of your business.” James snapped back, shooting Sophie a dirty look. She frowned, confused and a little hurt. “Don’t be rude.”

“Hey, knock it off, you two.” Rafe admonished, loosely curling his arm around her shoulders. She shrugged him off, annoyed, and swung her legs off the bed. “I’m gonna go, need to study.”

Rafe frowned and took her hand. “Thought we were going to study together?”

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong.” She replied, a little more snippy than she needed to be. “Soph, come on.” She ignored him as she gathered her things and left and James whistled, shaking his head. “What’s all that about?”

Rafe threw the tennis ball hard at him, nailing his leg. “You were being an asshole.” James yelped, tossing it hard back at him but Rafe ducked away. “She was - you know!” He argued, gesturing at Colin. “Still not cool, man! Text her and apologize.” Rafe shot back.

“What the hell am I missing?” Colin glanced between the two of them, thoroughly confused. “Shouldn’t you go after her?”

“Nah, she doesn’t like being followed after a fight.”

“Have you two fought since getting together? Like you used to?” James asked.

“Well...no.” Rafe paused. “But this isn’t about us, this is your fault.” He glanced at Colin for backup. “Right?”  

“I still have no fucking clue what you’re on about.” Colin replied.

“Doesn’t matter.” James dismissed it, sending Rafe a glare and effectively ending the conversation.

_

Sophie tried distancing herself from Rafe, somewhat, as jealousy built up inside of her. She had him come over before they had plans to go out while she got  ready. His attention went back and forth between her and his phone the whole time and Sophie was already regretting inviting him over as she saw April’s name popping up on his screen.

“Rafe, which one?” She turned to him in just her bra and jeans, holding up two tops. One blue, one yellow.

He didn’t glance up from his phone. “Uh...the black. You always wear that one.”

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger as she ditched both, opting for a sweatshirt instead and flopped onto her bed. He swiveled around in her desk chair, confused as he eyed over her messy bun and flat iron still plugged in on the counter. “You’re wearing that to go out?”  

“Why, is this not good enough for you?”

“No, it’s fine. I just thought...” At her glare, he raised his hands in defense. “Never mind. You ready to go then? Colin is seeing one of the bartenders and said she could snag us free drinks if we showed early.”  

Sophie sat up quickly, looking like she was about to cry. “You don’t want to go hang out with the girl blowing up your phone?”

“Huh? Soph, what are you talking about?”

“April?” She bit her lip, avoiding his gaze.

He laughed, loud. “April? You’re serious?”

“Oh, good, laugh at me, that feels great. I feel like you’re cheating on me and you’re fucking laughing.”

It took him a few moments to process before he crossed the room in two big strides and grabbed both her hands, squeezing them. “I’m not cheating on you, Sophie, I would never.” When she glanced up, he continued. “April is Colin’s freshman little sister, she texts me for film school advice. That’s it.”  

“...Oh.” She breathed out, wanting to shrink back into herself and disappear. “So when James was talking about what she was wearing...” 

“She’s practically like our little sister now too, James is just protective.” Rafe clarified, reaching up and swiping his thumbs over her cheeks to get rid of a couple stray tears. “Don’t cry, Soph, it’s okay.” 

“Fuck, Rafe, I’m so sorry.” She laughed softly, a little shaky. “She was just texting you all the time - and the heart next to her name in your phone, I just -” 

“Ah, shit. Yeah, I see what you mean.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then over both her cheeks, then the tip of her nose, making her giggle. “I’ll change it, promise. Look, I’ll introduce you two tonight, you’ll see.” He tugged at the hem of her sweatshirt. “Still want to wear this?” 

She shook her head and reached up, giving him a short kiss.  “No, I’ll go change. I’m sorry. Again. I should have just asked.” She paused. “In my defense, it didn’t help seeing a text saying ‘thanks for last night’ with the kissy face emoji. Especially when I knew you were out with the guys the night before.”  

“I dropped her off after she got trashed at one of our tailgates.” Rafe replied, shaking his head. “But you know what, I see where you’re coming from.” 

Once they made to the bar, Sophie followed him in and over to his group of friends all crowded in a corner. April, who looked extraordinarily similar to Colin, grinned when she saw Rafe and threw his arms around him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Rafey, hi!”  

He turned red, leaning away from her kiss but gave her a short hug back. Sophie raised her eyebrows at him and held back a smile and an I told you so, but he could tell anyways. He wrapped his arm around Sophie’s waist. “Hey, April, this is my girlfriend, Sophie.” 

“Girlfriend?” April repeated with a hint of disdain. “Rafe, you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.” 

James snorted into his drink watching the exchange. 

“It’s only been official for a little bit.” Sophie clarified, placing her hand possessively on Rafe’s chest. 

“Oh, so it’s nothing serious.” April brightened. “Rafe and I have known each other for months now, we’re pretty close.” She told Sophie, leaning over the table to give Rafe an eyeful of her chest. Colin tugged her up by the back of her shirt right away and Rafe dug his fingers into Sophie’s side a little, painfully aware of the situation now. 

“I’ve known him since high school, but thanks.” Sophie shot back a sweet smile. “You might have more luck hitting on someone your own age, by the way.” 

April turned bright red and took a long sip from her drink. “I’m not - I wasn’t -”  She stammered. 

“It’s fine. I can see where you’re coming from.” Sophie raised her eyebrows and gave Rafe a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to get another one, anyone else?” At no response, she turned on her heel and left. 

“You’ve been hitting on Rafe?” Colin questioned April, disgusted. She just scowled and left the group to go find her friends, thoroughly embarrassed. James elbowed Rafe with a grin. “She’s possessive, huh?” 

“Yeah, shut up.” He grinned back, ears turning red. 

[lifebeginsbyleaving]

We Don’t Know Whats Out There

Description: 

Stiles can't sleep, and if he told enough people that was all it was, maybe he would start to believe it. Still, as tensions were rising about them losing their territory he couldn't bother them with something he didn't even fully understand. Maybe he just needed something fun and easy to help him relax. Like the hot neighbor that he keeps catching staring at him.

Derek can't sleep, and if he cleans his house enough maybe people won't realize how he doesn't care enough to clean up other parts of his life. Still, as he worried about his job and obligations, he couldn't let them down about finding a place they belonged. Maybe he just needed something interesting to keep his mind off of it. Like the clumsy man he can't keep his eyes off of.

This is for @sterek-bingo I used the tags overworked, insomnia, and neighbors. Around 20,000 words.

------------------------------------

Derek threw his keys on the counter and sighed heavily when he heard them clatter to the floor. In the darkness of his apartment with the dull yellow light from the street lamp outside he could see them pathetically on the floor. He decided to leave them as he headed for his bed, it wasn't worth the effort.

He sluggishly took off his uniform. He placed his BHPD badge on his dresser as he yawned. It had been a long day and an even longer and stressful night. He had come in at one on his day off to help out and the next thing he knew he was helping the sheriff track an omega through the woods at one in the morning.

Now two hours later, he was finally able to strip down to his boxers to crawl into bed. He knew he should take a shower, but he was just so tired. The tired that goes right down to your bones.

He laid on his side staring into the darkness.

His cruiser needed a tune up soon. He should have gotten bagels for the morning so the sheriff wouldn't eat the leftover cinnamon rolls in the break room. He needed more coffee grounds soon too.

He turned onto his back and looked at the dark ceiling.

He closed his eyes. He laid in the darkness for several minutes.

He sighed as he whipped the blanket off.

"Tomorrow is going to suck ass." He spoke to the empty room as he swung his legs over the side of his bed.

He padded into the kitchen and turned on the light. He was met with the sight of a mountain of dishes from the previous lasagna night.

A blur of black fur jumped on to the counter.

Derek smiled and reached out to pet it. "Might as well, huh Lucian?"

Both the name and cat came from Cora. She had picked up the cat while traveling and it didn't get along with her beloved dog nor her girlfriend, so it had to go. When she called him to vent about having to bring him to a shelter Derek had immediately volunteered to drive all the way to pick him up.

Lucian meowed loudly in protest as Derek reclaimed his hand to start running the water.

He yawned once again, but knew he wouldn't get any sleep even if he did lay down. He cleaned the dishes as Lucian perched on the breakfast bar with his black tail slowly swishing side to side.

It was a half hour later by the time he had tamed the messy kitchen and only had a few more dishes to do. His shoulders ached and his eyelids drooped, he longed for sleep he knew he wouldn't get anytime soon.

As he let the pans soak, he went around the house collecting dishes.

He had forgotten a plate on the balcony and as he retrieved it, he caught sight of a light on in the apartments across the street. It was a corner apartment like his own, but this one had two windows. One was facing the woods at the back of their buildings, the other faced Derek's balcony and the alley between them. He set the plate down again on the railing as he took in the sight of a man. It looked like a youngish man, late twenties at the oldest, waving his arms around wildly while pacing in front of a desk in the corner of the room that looked out both windows. He was talking so adamantly Derek almost wanted to listen in. He decided against breaking the man's privacy and just watched. The man had a Batman shirt on and what looked to be matching bright yellow booty shorts on.

A small smile found its way to Derek's face.

The man looked to be practically shouting, for a moment Derek was worried he was shouting at someone, but then the man held up a large rubber duck and pointed an accusing finger at it.

Derek let out a full body laugh.

The man threw the duck with a triumphant grin and ran to his desk, which was facing the window Derek was looking in.

It was hard to make out features from across the street, but he could tell the intense concentration as the man tapped his computer keys rapidly.

Suddenly the man tipped his head forward and banged it against his laptop a few times. He leaned his head all the way back with what must've been a long groan.

Derek wanted to bring the man a cup of tea to soothe his frazzled state, and well, if he also wanted to leave a few marks on that long pale bared throat, that was only in his mind. Derek leaned against the railing to settle.

The man finally looked back up at his computer and muttered a few words. He ran his hands through his chestnut hair, making it stick up haphazardly.

Derek wished he could see the man more clearly, be able to see if he had any wrinkles from how expressive he was. See if he looked as rumpled as he seemed. See if those brown eyes looked as enchanting as he felt like they would. If those eyes w-

The eyes that squinted up at him. The eyes that looked directly at Derek.

He quickly stood up nearly knocking the plate over the side, but catching it at the last second.

When he looked back up he could see the man was bright red.

Derek quickly moved to go back inside and fumbled with the door. The stupid latch always stuck so he had to jiggle it for a moment before he could flee into his apartment.

He closed the curtain behind him and let out a breath. His cheeks were hot at being caught.

He quickly shrugged it off and finished the rest of the dishes trying to not think of the man catching him perving.

---

Stiles raced down the sidewalk trying not to bump into people. As he turned a sharp corner he banged his elbow which made him jump back and shove his computer bag into a very unhappy man.

"Solwry." He mumbled around the papers he was currently slobbering on.

He stumbled slightly as he looked down to shove them in his bag. He looked up and nearly was squashed by the door opening in front of him.

"Whoa! Sorry." He gave the exiting couple a nervous wave.

He entered the cafe with panting breath and his computer bag snagged then hit the wall with a bang.

Everyone in the cozy coffee shop looked up at him.

"Sorry!" His eyes scanned the crowd. "Sorry I'm late."

His father looked at him with an exasperated fond look. "Ten minutes Stiles. I only have a thirty minute lunch break."

Stiles scoffed as he sat down in the corner booth. "You're the boss. Who's coming up to you like," His voice went stern and low as he frowned. "You were ten minutes late coming back from your lunch." He added a wag of his finger to be dramatic.

The sheriff laughed. "Hale would. He's about as upright and lawful as they come. He wouldn't be insubordinate, but he would point it out to be a shit. Anyway it's about setting an example."

Stiles rolled his eyes. He'd heard many stories about Hale before. He was glad that his dad had someone like that to watch his back, but he put him up on such a pedestal. Stiles was worried that when they finally did the meeting his dad was pushing for so hard, he would introduce the wrong man as son.

"Yeah well, tell Hale to take that stick out of his ass." Stiles said before gulping down the molten sugary drink before him.

Stiles frowned. "Did you not get my text?"

"I did, but if I can't have fries you can't have a triple shot." His father looked smug until he took in his son's appearance. "Jesus kid! When's the last time you slept?"

"Counting the time I closed my eyes in the shower too long and almost lost my balance?"

His father didn't look impressed.

"I know, I know. I've just got this really big project right now. The client doesn't care when it's done, it's just really frustrating work. There are so many things going wrong that aren't easily fixed, and I can't figure them out. All these little problems keep popping up and as soon as I figure them out I think I can go to sleep, but then something goes wrong and I ca-"

"You can't just leave well enough alone. When there's a problem your brain won't let you sleep till you fix it." He had a faint smile. "Your mom was eight months pregnant when we bought your crib. We got home from the store exhausted, so we said we'd put it together in the morning. When your mother woke up I was passed out on your nursery floor surrounded by the shreds of the directions and your crib looked just like the display. You're so much like her, but you got some things from me."

Stiles smiled at him. "I've never heard that story before."

He shrugged. "That was back when I didn't think that moment would be important. Back when I thought we would have so many more the little ones wouldn't count."

He had that wistful sad look in his eyes, but a smile on his face. Stiles was grateful for how far they had come. Neither of them were able to even mention her for so long, to be talking freely in public meant the world to Stiles.

His father reached a hand across the table and he took it. He looked at him concerned. "Stiles, are you happy?"

Stiles plastered on too wide of a smile. "You don't have to worry about me pops."

He shook his head. "I always worry about you. I know you said you're good at this programming job, but I still think you should give that FBI offer another try. It was your dream job! You could consult from here, while still being in on the big cases. You'd use your education and degree. It was perf-"

Stiles put his hands up with an uneasy look. "I know dad. But I am good at the progra-"

His father cut him off just like he had to him. "I know you're good at it. Hell you're smart enough to be an astrophysicist if you damn well pleased. Stiles you're good at a lot. And anything you aren't, you've got enough drive and brains to keep at it till you are the world's leading expert." His father gave him a considering look and then deflated. "I won't push you on this today, but one of these days you're going to have to tell me what happened. Stiles you were mooning after that job since the end of high school. Then, you were bummed about having to give it up because you had to move home after college to help me and Scott with all the mumbo jumbo. But now, they offered you an at home position and you can't be bothered with it. I just don't understand, hell I don't even know if you do. I just hope you aren't doing this programming thing because for some reason you think you couldn't do what you really want to."

Stiles sighed. That wasn't it, but he was getting closer. Eventually he would have to explain to his dad and Scott what happened, but he'd have to figure it out himself first though.

"I love you for caring, but I can handle it. And I am really good at this, besides Danny's company needed the help." That was true when it started, but now Danny didn't need his help and they both knew it.

"I just want whatever will make you happy." His father squeezed his hand, then let go.

"My work is great for where I'm at right now."

The conversation switched over to the omega Stiles had narrowed down the possible hideouts for as they got their food.

They parted ways with a hug when his father went back to work.

---

Stiles got out his computer and tried to solve the problem he hit the night before.

Thinking back he wondered if he should have mentioned his stalker neighbor to his father. He dismissed the thought with a snort and got to work.

---

Erica's laugh was so loud he had to move the phone away from his ear.

"And you just went inside?"

Derek called her in his patrol car on lunch to try and get rid of the awkwardness of the previous night.

"What else would I have done? Shouted over, 'Hey sorry for watching you for a creepy amount of time. You just looked cute.' No, I fled like a normal person."

She cackled again. "You should take over some muffins, and then bang him."

Derek choked on his sandwich.

"I'm serious. You need to unwind. Nothing like a good dick to get you to relax."

Derek's cheeks went red. "Erica! I haven't even met him."

"So introduce yourself first. I'm like two weeks away from dragging you to The Jungle myself."

"You're worse than my sisters."

Derek's face went wide with horror at his slip up.

"Have you told them yet?"

"Yes."

She smelled blood in the water. "You haven't!"

"Erica no! Don't even think about it! Erica?" He looked at his phone to see she hung up. He banged his head against his wheel. "You never learn Hale." He would definitely have a couple texts from his sister's by night.

---

Derek had soon enough forgotten about that night after his sister's pokes faded.

He had a quiet week, till tonight that is.

He kicked off his boots not caring where they went.

Half the department had been chasing down a, supposedly, kidnapped teen. When Derek finally sniffed out the end of the trail that lead all over town, the scent of the boy was closely intertwined with marijuana.

He got ready for bed in a haze and the stress of the day finally hit like a weight on his chest. He had been so scared he wouldn't find the boy in time. He was so scared he would have to tell a frantic mother that he found her boy, but it was too late.

He finally realized why the sheriff had gripped his shoulder in a grounding squeeze like they hadn't found him in time while asking if he was alright. It was for this moment. The moment when it all became real. When he realized there was a boy they thought was in trouble and it would've been on them if he wasn't found. It was his job to get him back safely. It happened this time, but the sheriff knew this would come. He'd probably had moments just like this so many times.

Moments of staring at the ceiling and wondering what if. Wondering and imagining the worst, all the while blaming yourself for outcomes that didn't even happen.

Derek sighed and got out of bed. He wouldn't get any sleep with the mood he was in. It was much too somber and contemplative. He figured it had been awhile since he dusted his apartment anyway.

He worked silently while thinking intensely. He had a few morbid thoughts and decided he needed to get some fresh air to clear the dust clogging his lungs and cluttering his eyes. He opened the sliding door to his balcony, but soon enough the night's chill beckoned him out.

It was a welcome sensation on his skin. He breathed in the fresh air for a few moments before he caught sight of a familiar window lit up.

This time the man was sat at his computer furiously typing with headphones on. The man lifted a frankly unlawfully big coffee mug and tipped it completely. He rattled the mug before lifting it to his ear. The man seemed to freeze for a moment before shaking his head while setting it down.

Derek chuckled as he rubbed his hands down his face and slapped his cheeks.

The man must've been up for too long. As if to prove his point he yawned and pushed himself away from the computer. He grabbed the giant mug and disappeared from Derek's view. He came back a few moments later with the mug filled to the brim. He settled back into his groove.

Derek liked watching the man's gestures and how expressive he was, even if Derek couldn't make out all of his facial movements. He only felt slightly creepy for thinking of grabbing his pair of binoculars. Okay, he felt really creepy for that.

The man lifted the coffee to his lips while still typing and burned himself.

Derek could tell he was screaming cuss words.

In jerking back from the sensation the man spilled coffee all over his lap and he jumped up while patting his legs.

Derek was already highly amused and smiling broadly, but when the man left to get a towel only to be yanked back by his headphones he barked out loud laughter.

The man came back, now in black instead of blue sweatpants and looked to be shutting down his computer. The man stretched and Derek could tell his shirt rode up slightly. He was distractedly trying to look at him. When his shirt fell back down he looked back to his face.

One that was now pointed towards where his light was on and he was once again staring creepily.

Derek shot up and was thankful he had left his door open so he could just slip right inside without the wait.

Derek mentally kicked himself as he decided to just lay down, so he wouldn't be tempted to peek out his curtains to see if the man was calling his co-workers. God that'd be embarrassing. Parish would laugh his ass off if he got that call.

After a few moments thinking about the man he fell asleep with a smile remembering the hilarity of his sleepy mistake.

---

Lydia spooned the last of her dressing onto her salad. "And the guy just went back inside?"

"Yeah. He seemed embarrassed both times, but I don't know if I should tell my dad. On the one hand sheriff dad scaring off creepy guy, yay. On the other worried dad shooting creep."

She tilted her head in consideration. "Keep an eye out for him. If it becomes more of a problem or if he makes you uncomfortable then tell him."

"I don't know, I've never see him out there other nights. He doesn't really make me uncomfortable. I guess he's probably just curious about the weirdo up and three."

She laughed. "Probably. And what did I say about getting proper sleep? You'd get laid more often if you ever left your house not looking like a sleep deprived troll."

"Really feeling the love Lyds."

She narrowed her eyes and pointed her fork at him. "You know it's true. I didn't move back to Beacon Hills just for you to get us all murdered because you fell asleep researching and got us the wrong info. You need sleep, you insomniac workaholic." She stabbed a piece of chicken and stuffed it in her mouth menacingly.

"Has that ever happened?"

She swallowed and was undeterred. "No, but you need to be especially on your toes now. We all do. With this Malikhai pack circling we cannot show weakness. They're already sowing doubt about Scott's hold on Beacon's territory. Everyone concerned knows he didn't steal shit, but if they bend enough ears it could be a problem. A big one at that meeting in two months."

He nodded. "You're right. I'll get more sleep."

She assessed him, then shook her head. "You aren't going to do shit. You're restless and won't let anybody help you."

He considered her words. "Sometimes you're scary with how much you know."

She laughed as she gathered her things and dropped money for their lunch. "That's cute. I'm always scary because of how much I know. Kisses."

He waved at her bouncing curls.

---

The third time it happened Stiles could hardly blame him. He should've closed his curtains, but he loved being able to look outside. Even as he was dancing wildly to ABBA at four in the morning while in his boxers. In his defense though, how else are you supposed to organize your house?

Stiles had just finished quite literally boogieing to dancing queen when he looked up and saw that light on again. They both stared for a brief moment. Stiles had no idea what made him do it, but he did a tiny wave. Which the man returned hesitantly. Stiles smiled and it seemed like the man did as well. It was already hard to tell from the distance, but the man also had dark, albeit hot, facial hair.

He was just about to turn when the man started to clap. It confused Stiles for a second, until he realized the applause was for his performance. He bowed dramatically and when he straightened he was met with the sight of laughter. The man pointed back to his apartment before once again waving.

Stiles waved back and in a mindless moment blew a kiss.

He instantly internally panicked.

The man looked confused and he turned half way back to his door before reaching out his hand and catching the kiss. He then rushed inside.

Stiles' joyful insomniac energy was burst and he hid under his covers till he eventually fell asleep.

---

"He blew you a kiss?!"

Derek's voice was muffled by the counter it was pressed against, but it sounded vaguely affirmative.

"And you caught it."

This time the yes sounded more distressed.

Erica patted his back as she let out vigorous laughter.

When she finally settled down she offered, "Well, maybe he won't think you're as weird because he's weird too."

"Thanks for your comfort." He said deadpan.

She responded in kind. "I'm here for you in this difficult time." She steered the conversation back to her weekend plans with little consideration.

---

The only reasons he took night shift were because it was understaffed and if something supernatural happened he needed to be there anyway, but now he was thinking of adding so he could look to see if the light across the way was on.

These last few weeks he didn't linger, but he still smiled when he got home to see that light burning just like his own. He would check and some how that was enough. On the two nights he had stayed until he was caught it was no longer awkward. The man had just looked up and they waved before Derek left. Another night Derek just listened to the man's heartbeat and his soft mutters as he washed his floors.

He knew it was creepy, but something about the man was just...

Comforting.

Derek realized it was comforting to come home and have someone there.

God when had he gotten so lonely that a complete stranger waving at him from across the street felt intimate.

It was soothing, he supposed, to come home after a hard day to see that you weren't the only weary soul too tired to sleep. To know you weren't the only one battling things in the dark.

Derek set his wallet and keys on the table with a yawn. It wasn't an eventful day whatsoever. He had done nothing but paperwork and battle his drooping eyelids. He had been so tired all day, but now that he was home his mind jumped from one thing to another. After he got changed he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and decided to sit on the balcony. Might as well see what his neighbor was up to.

The light was on, but the man wasn't in sight.

Derek sat enjoying the calm night air while drinking his beer.

Just as he was starting to get worried, the man paced past in a flurry.

His arms were flailing and his lips were moving a mile a minute. Derek looked with fondness for a few moments. Then he noticed how heavily and fast the man's chest was heaving.

Something looked wrong. His movements, while normally clumsy, were erratic instead. Almost frantic. Derek knew it was not okay to listen in on the man under normal circumstances, but the man looked about ready to burst into tears.

"You're okay. Stop freaking out. Stop. Ju-just stop. Y-you're ok-kay. Just s-stop!"

The man looked down at his fingers and looked to be counting them. He then looked around his flat to name items with different colors.

Oh.

The man was having a panic attack.

The sheriff had taught them all different methods to calm someone having one, in case they encountered it on a case. The rainbow method was one. The man was trying to calm himself down.

The man repeated that he was okay over and over.

Derek listened to his heartbeat hammer. He needed to calm down or he would pass out. Derek knew he was on the third floor so he'd just have to figure out which apartment number.

He was just about to turn to go inside when the man ran to his desk and fumbled with his phone.

Derek felt a small amount of disappointment, but it was quickly pushed down. He was happy the man was getting help, even if it wasn't him. Besides how weird would that have been. 'Hey I'm your neighbor I heard you having a panic attack from across the street so I decided to find your apartment.'

The line rang for a long time and Derek hoped the person answered and was able to help.

Derek wasn't able to hear the other voice, but he could hear the man's. "Scott. P-panic a-t-t-" The man tried to force air into his lungs.

He didn't talk anymore, but he looked to be listening intently and he nodded his head even though the man on the line couldn't see it.

"B-better. But I- I'm still shaking." The man held up his shaking hand as if to prove it.

Derek listened to his heartbeat. It was no longer thudding, but it was still fast.

"No you d-don't have to. You're already on y-your way?" The man sighed, but went out of sight and Derek heard his door unlocking.

They stayed on the line until a car approached, headlights almost blinding on the empty dark street.

An obviously sleep ruffled puppy of a man got out and walked around to the building's entrance.

Derek heard knocking.

"What's the password?"

There was a sigh. "Rubber baby butter beans." The door unlatched.

Derek stifled a laugh.

Derek heard a muffled thanks and figured the man's face was pressed tightly into a hug.

They both walked in the view of the window and Derek got a little better of a look at the stranger. He looked like he could be handsome, but from this distance it was hard to tell.

He was too busy focusing on the man's face he didn't catch their conversation. Soon enough the lights went out and he heard two people settling into bed. The man's heartbeat had settled slightly, but his breaths still had a few hitches.

"Focus on my breathing. Feel my chest move. We're safe here. I've got you."

Derek started to wonder if maybe they were together. A boyfriend would be more inclined to get out of bed to check on someone than a friend. But then again if he called Erica in the middle of the night she'd break his door down. Maybe they were just friends. Then again, the magenta, purple, and blue flag hanging on the man's wall had Derek wondering.

When he first saw it, it had made him glad, but now it caused a rolling in his stomach. It was ridiculous, he shouldn't be jealous over a neighbor he hadn't even met!

He decided to go inside and clean Lucian's litter box then organize his bookshelves.

He was deeply engrossed in a book by the time he heard movement on the street. He decided to put his book down to check it out.

"Thanks for tonight Scotty."

The stranger, Scott, got his keys out of his pocket as they hugged. "Yeah yeah. You know you can call me whenever."

The man stuck his hands in his pj pants pockets. "Yeah well, still tell Alli sorry for stealing her boyfriend."

Scott grinned. "We all know I'm both of yours."

The man let out an obnoxiously loud laugh for the quiet morning. "True. Now get out of here. Don't want to keep Mr. Cryptic boss waiting. Love you bro."

"Love you too." The man started his car and Derek realized he was dressed for the day. He must've borrowed some clothes. Or maybe he has a drawer.

Derek's head was starting to hurt trying to figure out what their relationship was. He had said both of yours, like he was both of their boyfriend. Maybe they were poly? But then why hadn't this Alli come too? Maybe they were just friends and it was a joke.

Derek got into bed still trying to figure it out, but drifted swiftly after thinking of his loud laughter. It was an oddly soothing sound.

He wanted to hear it more often.

---

Stiles spread the burgers and fries out on the counter. "Oh please, iron man's ass is forged of metal. Cap's is pure squats and muscle."

Scott pinched the skin of the kitten's neck. "You mean, pure super soldier serum." Scott gave it it's shot before soothing the kitten.

Stiles waved a fry at him. "But still muscle. The serum just amplified his muscle definition. But it is still muscle, and there for, it is America's true ass."

"What about Deadpool? He's got a good ass. What about him?"

Stiles snorted. "For starters? He's Canadian."

Scott tilted his head. "Oh yeah."

Stiles rubbed the grease and salt from his hands on to his jeans. He tried to sneak a few fries from Scott's, but he looked over.

"Hey! Paws to yourself! Those are mine."

Stiles stuck out his tongue and grabbed his burger instead. "Best super hero ass hands down is Dick Grayson."

Scott softly placed the kitten back in the pen and grabbed another. "No way. Black canary all the way."

Stiles scoffed. "Sure, bud."

Scott gave the last kitten it's shot before washing up to eat. "That isn't what I called you here to talk about though."

Stiles raised and eyebrow. "What. No way. You didn't call me here to debate superhero glutes?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "I wanted to talk to you about next month."

Stiles took a huge bite so he didn't have to respond.

"This is important." Scott tried to meet his eyes, but Stiles avoided him. He sighed. "What is the matter with you lately dude? We all agreed as a pack, we need this meeting to go well. If we are going to hold Beacon as McCall- Stilinski territory, next month is important. Why does it seem like you're checking out?" Scott focused on his face. "Are you okay? If something is wro-"

"I'm okay Scott. You don't have to worry about me. I'll get my head in the game before then, I've just had some personal shit going on."

He gave him a sad look. "I miss the days when your personal was mine."

Stiles looked down. There was a pit in his stomach as his throat dried. "I know Scotty, but I will tell you, eventually. I just need to work some stuff out."

"You keep saying that, but I don't think you're working anything out. I think you're just keeping things to yourself because you don't want to worry anybody."

Stiles mindlessly stirred his ketchup with a fry.

"But you are. You are worrying us. We just want to help."

"I know." Stiles met his eyes. "We'll deal with the Malikhai pack and their challenge of our territory first. Derek Hale is one of my dad's newer deputies. He brought two other betas with him from New York. They talked and Laura is still their alpha, so the Malikhai pack doesn't have grounds for a refusal because Derek is just a beta. Even if this has been Hale territory for centuries, with Laura setting up a pack in New York, Beacon is forfeit unless a Hale alpha shows up to claim it."

"What if Laura shows up to challenge us?"

Stiles shook his head. "Derek told my dad she isn't interested in Beacon. She gave her word she never intends to take Beacon for her territory as long as we take care of it. She thinks we're doing well enough from what she's heard."

Scott nodded. "Let's go over the protocol again."

Stiles gathered his trash. "You'll be fine, but if you want we can."

---

Derek reached for the bottle of wolfsbane laced whiskey in the back of his cabinet. His eyes had already healed from the puffy state his call with Laura and Cora had left them in, but he felt new tears at the back of his eyes.

A family had left a roast in the oven overnight, accidentally on high, but thankfully it was called in soon enough. Fire calls usually left him shaken, but there was a little girl that looked exactly like Cora. She was coughing the smoke from her lungs that also clung to her clothes and hair and soon enough Derek was the one unable to breathe. He tried to hide his claws and fangs and closed his eyes when they flashed red. He didn't know how long it was before he felt the sheriff's arms wrap around him and send him home, but after his phone calls it was now three in the morning.

He refilled his glass and went to get changed. He struggled with his pants already feeling the alcohol, wolfsbane made the effect almost instant. By the time he had finished getting changed he needed to find the bottle again.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw the frightened ones of the little girl. It was times like this he longed to feel the shift take over and get in a much more simple state of mind, a much more primal one. It felt like the smoke was in him and the flames were licking his face. He needed air.

He went to the balcony and like he knew it would be, that light was on.

The man was hard at work, tapping away at his computer. He was chewing a pen cap in-between his teeth as he focused intently on his screen.

Derek wanted the man to look at him. To notice him so he wasn't alone. He wanted to feel like he was seen and his pain was normal.

He had moved back from New York because everything was just too impersonal. You could fade into the city and no one would ever know you were gone. But a small part of him hoped that the man would notice if he never had his light on at an ungodly hour again. He wished that someone cared about him like he was important.

Derek hung halfway off the balcony as he began to frantically wave. He sloshed his almost empty whiskey as he flung his arms out.

Eventually the man looked up. He hesitantly waved and Derek raised his glass to him.

The man laughed and raised his coffee mug in return.

Derek laughed finding it funnier than it was. He got an idea and before he could think about it he held out his flat palm with his other fist placed atop it. He moved both hands forward in question.

The man looked confused and shrugged.

Derek thrust his hands out again, and then he pounded his fist three times on top of his palm.

The man laughed and mirrored his hands.

They pounded their fists in unison, and on the third beat Derek held up rock and the man held up paper. The man pumped his hands in victory. Derek threw both arms out in mock defeat. Derek watched the man throw back his head in a laugh with rapt attention. He held up a finger to tell him to wait before pushing his computer chair away.

Derek wanted to tell him not to leave, but soon enough he was back. He held up something to the window, it looked like marker. He uncapped it and began writing on the window backwards. He made two columns, one labeled, me. And the other, you. He put a tally mark under the me column before setting the marker down.

By the end of the night Derek could barely see the man with all the marks on the window. He had his computer chair pushed away as he leaned over his desk to get closer to count them. The man won by two points and he did a victory dance. The man acted like a wave was passing through his arms and he pointed it at Derek. He was just drunk enough that he pretended to continue it with a sad excuse of a robot.

Derek could almost hear the man's laughter ringing in his ears as he laid down to sleep. He fell asleep picturing his wide grin and cute dance.

---

Cora's laughter was booming. Laura spoke in a consoling tone, "Oh Derbear. You did your robot?"

Derek just groaned at her.

Cora spoke with no mercy, "Your robot sucks ass."

"I am aware, devil spawn. Well, sober me is."

"Hey call me devil spawn all you'd like, I'm not the one that scarred their cute neighbor with the abomination that is you dancing."

"Laura tell her to stop. Order her to be nicer, use the eyes."

"Sorry lil bro. She's right."

"Ugggh." Derek groaned into his pillow. "You both are terrible."

---

Derek tried to avoid the balcony out of shame for the next week.

The loud banging in the alley drew his attention before he could remember to stay inside. For a second he didn't see anything below, but then a trashcan tipped over and circled before a plump raccoon crawled out. Derek looked up, relieved it hadn't been someone trying to break in. He didn't want to have to deal with that tonight. He saw that light on and inside the man's head was tipped down still looking at the raccoon.

He looked more distressed than normal. Mugs stacked around his desk and there were papers strewn about. His hair was frazzled and he had tension in his shoulders. Derek wondered what stressed him so much. Maybe it was his job, he could have an upcoming deadline. Maybe he w-

He was staring back up at him.

The man brightened and waved enthusiastically. Derek waved back.

There was a pause.

Derek tried to mime that now that he had checked out the alley, and it was just raccoons he was going to head back to bed. But the man looked confused at his gestures. It probably looked like he was trying to make shadow puppets. He pointed a thumb back at his apartment and the man looked down. Derek started to move back reluctantly. He felt so rude, like he was leaving in the middle of a conversation, but he was also still embarrassed.

The man grabbed something from across his desk. He held up the orange marker. Derek stood there considering for a moment. The man took that as a no and set the marker down.

"Don't do it Hale." He whispered to himself.

He held up his hands and the man energetically moved to get ready.

They played till something drew the man's attention to his computer. He held up a hand to motion for Derek to wait.

He clicked for a few moments before pointing to his computer. Derek nodded and settled into a chair while pulling out his phone.

Derek's attention was drawn back upwards when he saw a fast movement. He looked up to be met with the sight of catastrophe. There were papers spewing out of the man's printer at an unearthly rate. The man was shouting and waving for the printer to stop. He jabbed at a few buttons, but to no avail. The printer just kept going and in one final power move the man unplugged the machine. It stilled and he sagged with relief.

The man looked up at Derek. Derek finally absorbed the situation and burst out laughing. The man quickly joined in. Once they had calmed down he gathered the papers and shook his head at them. He closed down his computer and span his chair in a circle before meeting Derek in their next match.

Derek won the night and the man put a little mark on the top window opposite to an identical mark.

So this was a thing. The man clearly expected to play again. He expected to play enough games where they would need to keep track on the window. Maybe this would be their thing. Rock, paper, scissors from across the street.

Derek got cozy in bed as a warm feeling settled in his chest. It was nice to have something, some sort of connection to someone. This was the sort of thing he missed in New York. He missed helping little old ladies at the grocery store and talking to neighbors while getting the mail. He missed seeing the same face multiple times just going to the bank. In the city everything was constantly changing, shifting. Derek just always felt like backdrop rather than a person. He missed being a part of a community. He missed feeling like he made an impact.

He supposed that's why he joined the PD. To help people. Feeling like he helped someone was the best thing to Derek. He wanted to have people around him and to be able to take care of them. No matter how close he was to his sisters, traveling never felt settled enough, and Laura's pack felt solid enough without him. He didn't have an integral place with either of them that truly felt like his own. He'd been back in Beacon hills for months now, and a couple games of rock, paper, scissors and an over protective boss was as close as he got to finding a place he belonged. No matter how much he saw them getting closer or he enjoyed his job, his co-workers were still just work friends and his job wasn't going to make him feel fulfilled.

He wanted someone to belong to. Someone that felt like home.

He drifted off wondering how soon he would meet someone like that for him, or if he already had.

---

Allison looked at Scott concerned. "Stiles, you sound pretty gone."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "He gave you a pen and I had to convince him to not propose the next time he saw you. I think me having a crush on my neighbor/rock, paper, scissors pal/stalker is sane in comparison."

She gave him a, 'Yeah keep telling yourself that.' look.

"I think if it makes you happy you should do it. You know how to take care of yourself. Maybe you're soulmates."

Allison rolled her eyes.

Stiles slung an arm around Scott's neck. "See, this is why you're my best friend. You always support me."

Scott beamed.

---

Derek grimaced as he tried to not smear blood on his door or walls.

He went straight to the bathroom and put his torn, soaked top right into the garbage. He turned on the water and steam started to billow into the room. He stripped and looked at the damage in the mirror.

They had been looking aimlessly for the omega for weeks now. But the night before another body was found, so they were determined. The sheriff came in with another map that had random circles on it. He had been bringing them in from his pack. Derek was glad that beacon had the McCall- Stilinski pack to look out for it, they wouldn't have been able to search even the narrowed down areas without the pack's help. The sheriff and him finally found the omega and cornered him.

Derek winced as he prodded at the claw mark across his side.

The omega had been able to get in a few surprise attacks before Derek fought back.

He stepped under the spray and let out a content grumble, happy to have the omega's blood swirling down the drain instead of sticking to his skin. He washed away the day and was satisfied that they had finally dealt with the wayward wolf.

He turned off the water wanting to collapse into bed, but still having a little bit of adrenaline left from the fight.

He decided to check in on his neighbor before bed. He threw on a pair of sweatpants before padding out to the balcony.

After his hot shower the air outside raised the hair on the back of his neck and arms. His eyebrows pulled together once he saw the blinds closed with the light on. He could see the silhouette of the man sitting at his chair.

That was odd. He never closed his blinds. Maybe he didn't want to see Derek anymore. Maybe he weirded him out. The man seemed happy to see him last time. Derek shouldn't feel this hurt, this shut out. It just felt like they were building a relationship, even if they just played a game.

Maybe he was just embarrassed about the printer thing, like Derek had been. Or maybe he was having more computer problems.

That thought brought conflicting emotions. First, it brought a smile, but then he thought about how easy it was for the man to be able to shut him out.

Maybe he was in trouble. He doubted it, but maybe. Derek had a worrying thought. What if the man was having another panic attack, but he didn't want him to see?

Derek internally debated for a moment longer before deciding to just listen in to check on him.

He focused and could hear the man's heartbeat thumping rapidly. His breathing was shallow and fast.

Derek panicked. Why wasn't he calling his friend?

There were sounds of movement that Derek couldn't make out.

He heard breathing sounds that sounded like they were coming from his computer and Derek was puzzled. Was the man trying some breathing exercises to calm down? He heard an extended groan and Derek's eyes widened.

Oh.

He heard a loud breathy moan that faded off into a needy whine and his face flamed.

Oh.

That was why his blinds were closed. Derek heard more decidedly not breathing exercise noises from the man's computer. Now that he knew what it was Derek could easily tell exactly what the noise of movement was from. There was a gasp then a guttural moan. Derek quickly blocked out the noise again and he scurried inside like he was the one caught jerking off.

He laid in bed with red ears. He closed his eyes to fall asleep, but he kept replaying the sounds over and over. He let out a frustrated groan before pulling his pillow over his face like that would muffled the noise in his head. The man's moans had gotten to him more than he'd like to admit. It would be very uncomfortable to fall asleep now.

He threw the pillow off and muttered, "Oh for God's sake!" Before shoving a hand past his waistband.

Later he fell asleep feeling satisfied, content, and very embarrassed.

---

Erica practically cackled off the couch and even Boyd cracked a small smile.

"Oh God Hale, only you!"

Derek stabbed his spoon into his ice cream and it clinked harshly against the ceramic. "How was I supposed to know! That he was..."

Erica gleefully finished his sentence. "Masturbating?"

Derek looked down to hide his burning face. "Can you stop enjoying my pain please?"

"Nu-uh I'm your friend. I have to make you more embarrassed. It's my job."

He scowled at her and she stuck her tongue out.

She spoke through a bite of cookies and cream, "What did you do after you realized what he was doing?"

"I went inside and I..." He avoided looking at her.

"You what?" She looked at him and then at Boyd's smirking face. "You didn't!" She asked shocked. She laughed at him again.

He groaned and forcefully stirred his ice cream.

"Oh my God, you so did!"

---

Stiles couldn't breathe.

Correction, the breath entering his lungs left just as fast as it entered. He could breathe in the same way that he could think. In a way that only made the situation worse and more panic inducing.

He needed to calm down. He tried to breathe. He tried to think about something else, but his thoughts kept circling back. He couldn't call Scott because he had a difficult surgery in the morning. If he called Allison it would wake Scott. He didn't want to call Lydia because it always freaked her out when she wasn't actually there to help. Sometimes she just made it worse no matter how much comfort she wanted to offer. Jackson was in a completely different time zone. He couldn't call his dad because he would still be on shift. Liam, Kira, and Malia all didn't know about his panic attacks and now wouldn't be the best time to have them figure it out.

He muttered to himself, "Y-you can d-d-o this." He tried to calm himself down, but knowing he didn't have anyone he could call made it worse.

He grabbed at his hair as he paced. "S-stop! S-t-top! Fuck-k!"

The tears were rushing down his face and his vision was blurred. His mind whipped in a frenzy as thoughts frantically raced.

He couldn't take it anymore. He ran over to his desk. He shoved papers trying to find his phone, but he could barely see thought the tears. He looked up and cursed, "F-fuck! Stupid f-f-fucking pho-one!" He closed his eyes harshly and when he opened them that light across the street was on.

He met eyes with his shocked pajama clad neighbor.

His mind was a torrent of thoughts. Oh God he was so stupid. This was so stupid. He was an idiot! Why! Why was he doing this right now! Why did his neighbor have to be there! He wouldn't ever want to see him again. Wh-

He went to move out of sight of the window, but his neighbor waved his hands frantically.

Stiles watched with curious eyes as his neighbor put a hand on to his chest. He slowly lifted it up and held it before placing it back on his chest again.

Stiles looked at him with curious eyes and his breathing still hammered in and out.

His neighbor repeated the motion and deeply inhaled this time.

Oh. He wanted Stiles to synch his breathing.

A small smile fought its way through all the panic and distress previously on his face. His neighbor wanted to help him, to calm him down. Even though he barely knew him he cared.

Stiles payed attention to the rhythm his neighbor set, but his breathing wouldn't calm.

More frustrated tears fell. "I-I can't." He whispered as he shook his head.

His neighbor used his other hand to gesture for him to calm down, then he paused the breathing motion to tap his own heartbeat. He resumed the breathing motion. He said something that Stiles couldn't understand.

Stiles tried again. He dug his fingernails into his palm as he tried to ground himself. He was fine. There was someone with him. They cared. He wanted him to calm down, to breathe. Just breathe. It was going to be okay. He was okay. As he thought he kept his eyes on his neighbor's moving hand.

They stood there together for several minutes.

The motion eventually soothed him into a normal breathing pattern. His tears were still falling, but his head was no longer pounding and he could breathe easily. Stiles wiped his eyes and focused on his neighbor's, which were still staring at him calmly.

His neighbor pointed at Stiles and then himself, after he pressed his pointer finger to his thumb as the rest of his fingers fanned upwards.

He smiled. He was trying to tell Stiles that they were okay. Stiles nodded and lifted his hand to copy his gesture.

His neighbor smiled and dropped his hands.

Stiles tried to convey he was sorry and moved his mouth exaggeratedly while he spoke, "Sorry."

He waved his hand in a dismissal. And once again mimed that it was okay.

Stiles was trying to figure out the best way to flee and watch Netflix, not being able to sleep, while they just stared at each other.

His neighbor tentatively raised his hands in a very familiar way.

Stiles smiled and sat on his computer chair. It was a way to pass the time. And a way to not be alone with his thoughts.

They played till the morning light invaded their hidden game. Stiles counted the tally marks and reluctantly put another tally under the you column. Stiles stuck out his tongue.

He held up a middle finger and Stiles clutched his chest with an overly shocked look. He laughed at him and Stiles smiled in return.

---

"I still wish you would've called me."

Stiles shrugged at Lydia. "I couldn't find my phone."

They both drank their smoothies while walking to the next shop in silence. She looked over at him with an assessing look.

"What?"

She only squinted further.

"What."

"Nothing. I'm just surprised he was able to calm you down like that."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I was desperate. If fricken Elmo popped up and started counting breaths with me I probably would've gone with it."

She hummed and turned back to look where she was going. "I think you should make him cookies. As a thank you. Besides, it's neighborly."

He looked at her like she was crazy. "Are you crazy?! How weird would that be? To just show up with cookies. Like, 'Hey I'm your crazy neighbor that had a panic attack and you had to spend several minutes calming me down. So thanks. Here's some double chip.' No, thank you. I will stick with rock, paper, scissors and pretending I'm not falling in love with a man I've never met."

A passing couple gaped at them, having clearly only caught the last sentence. Stiles squinted at them and they looked away quickly.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Do you really want to live your life not taking chances and connecting with people? You live and work in your apartment. The only time you leave is when the pack or your dad drag you out. This guy seems sweet, albeit a bit creepy, but sweet. I think you should give it a shot. Do you really want to play rock, paper, scissors with him till one of you moves? You have no social life Stiles."

Stiles argued, "Hey I trash talk ten year olds in Halo, just fine."

She didn't react to his joke. "Stiles."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know."

She squinted. "Do you? Do you know what it's like to see one of your best friends waste away and not even care about their life? I don't know what the hell happened to you at college, but you didn't come back the same. At first I thought it was some left over nogitsune bullshit, but it's not. You just don't seem to care about your life. Do you know what that's like for us? For your dad?" She got a little choked up. "For me?"

Stiles pulled her into a hug and fought tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"And you won't let us help you. Why?"

Stiles kissed her head. "Because you can't. I know that's difficult to handle, but you can't. And I'm sorry. I'm so fuckin sorry Lyds."

She spoke through her tears, "We just want for you to b-"

"To be happy. I know." He rubbed his hands down her arms. "I'll try the cookies."

---

Stiles drummed fingers on the container as he waited for that light to go on. He tried to busy himself with work, but the problems that wouldn't let him sleep couldn't hold his attention.

He was staring off into space nervously chewing a pen when that light flicked on. He shot out of his seat and bulleted to the door, getting to the doorway before remembering to go back for the container.

---

Derek loved his job. He loved it. He enjoyed his work and actually looked forward to it. He liked feeling like he was doing something important. But all this week there was this itch under his collar, his badge felt heavy, and he just wanted to put his gun away. He couldn't wait to get home.

Who knows how long the man had been panicking for at the start of the week. Derek felt unease in his chest all day and night until he could get home to check on that light and the man it created a halo for. Each night they waved and if the man didn't have work to do they added another mark to the window above.

Derek was becoming worryingly dependant on their routine. He was starting to think if the man wasn't there one night his wolf wouldn't rest till he hunted him down to make sure he was safe. Derek shook his head at that thought. He had more self control than that. He kicked his boots off and flicked on his light. He unbuttoned his top button and didn't even have the patience to change first before opening the sliding door. He frowned at the light on, but the chair was empty and moving in a circle. Maybe he went to get something to drink. Derek listened to the empty flat and started to wonder if he had as much self control as he thought.

He went back inside to change.

After throwing on a pair of sweatpants he paced thinking about what could've happened. Why would've he left his light on? Maybe someone called him for something, like Scott. Maybe Derek just couldn't hear him in there for some reason. Maybe he was safe.

Or maybe someone broke in and took him.

Derek strode to his door deciding to just go over and see if he could smell distress outside his door.

He was across the room from the door when there was a knock.

Derek froze.

Who would be knocking at three am? The Erica of his mind supplied that it could be the man, naked, with flowers. He dismissed that thought as he took a deep breath through his nose as he got closer.

One man. Nervous, very, but excited. Home, like baking and happiness. Like cookies and cinnamon. There was a hint of the scent of rain and thunderstorms. There was a undercurrent of a drug. Nothing he was familiar with, so not illegal. Prescription most likely. There was a Woody scent too. Sandalwood, cedar? There was a pungent coffee and sugar scent like it was all the man consumed.

There was another, much smaller, knock.

Derek opened the door. His mouth opened and his breath was lost.

It was most definitely the man. Derek didn't need to have seen his face, he'd know that messy hair and bright cartoon pajamas anywhere. But now that he did see his face, there was no going back after seeing those wide bright brown eyes. He had moles everywhere and God those lips. Having that hair close enough he wanted to run his fingers through it, or just tug on it. Fuck, he was so gone and the man hadn't even spoken to him yet. Derek took in the man's expression, he looked terrified. He could practically hear the man's dry throat trying to swallow. He realized what his own must look like. He probably still had defensive posture. His face still scrunched in what his sister's called, 'The murder face of concentration.'

He opened his lips to talk, but the man blurted instead, "Oh god this was a terrible idea. I can't believe I did this. Why did I listen to Lydia. You were so nice to calm me down and I just show up on your doorstep like a weirdo. This was weird, this was bad. I mean look at you, god look at your arms!" The man flung out an arm vaguely at Derek. "You probably don't even eat cookies, you probably eat bullets! Lydia was so wrong. You were just being nice helping me, and I've made it weird with cookies. God how does someone even make something weird with cookies? You probably were just humoring me with the rock, paper, scissors. Just being nice, waiting till it wasn't rude to just never look over at me again. You were probably just enjoying the night out on your sick balcony, when you saw a crazy person up at three and were curious, but now the crazy person is on your doorstep. And you'll probably call the cops which would be real fuckin awkward bec-"

Derek got the sense the man could go on the entire night. And he didn't know how much he could take without finding some very boundary pushing ways of shutting him up. "I eat cookies." Derek interrupted.

The man took in a large breath. "What?"

Derek held down a smile. "I eat cookies. Not bullets."

The man seemed checked out as he nodded. "That's good."

The man stared up at him with those Bambi eyes and he had to fight the urge to let his wolf maul him. Derek lifted an eyebrow. "So... Cookies?"

The man seemed to come back to himself. "Right! So raspberry and cream cheese kolaczki cookies. My grandmother's recipe. I didn't know what you would like, so I just made the best recipe I have." He shoved the container forward.

Derek took it.

The man pointed a thumb behind himself. "Right, so I'm just going to go die in a hole and hopefully never be reminded of this again."

Derek spoke as the man moved, "You better not die. Not before you can reclaim your pride in rock, paper, scissors."

The man smiled at him and Derek swore he had never been that close to death. "I think it's clear from this encounter I didn't have any pride to begin with."

Derek smiled.

"Okay Jesus that is so unfair, so I'm going to go." He started to walk away.

"The elevator is th-"

"The other way. Yes. Thank you."

The man awkwardly saluted and tripped on the hastily put on shoes before disappearing around the corner. He exhaled and whispered, "Smooth. Real fuckin smooth."

Derek smiled and closed his door.

---

"He gave you cookies?" Erica dug in the Chinese container on the table.

"Yeah. I had to look them up, but they're some polish cookie. He gave me like two dozen."

"Where are they? I want some."

Derek ducked his head as he blushed. "I ate them."

Her mouth dropped open. "You ate two dozen cookies in two days?"

"They were really good, some of the best cookies I've ever had! And small."

She kicked him. "Dereek! Now I really want one! You really are them all?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I stress ate like half of them that night trying to figure out a way to see him again before I realized I would have to return the container."

She groaned. "You're a mess."

They ate in silence till she put her plate down. "I talked to your sisters the other day."

Derek's stomach lurched. That was never good.

"They filled me in on the meeting next month."

Derek felt unsettled.

"Why didn't you tell us? You know no matter what you do we would support you."

Derek nodded and opened his mouth.

Erica continued, "Even if your decision is stupid. And dumb. And not the right choice."

He sighed. "Erica, it's not that easy."

Her voice was sharp. "So explain it. Because to me it seems like you're shooting yourself in the foot. If you forfeit Beacon now, there will be no getting it back without forcefully taking it. You would have no claim. Laura doesn't want this land, but you could take care of it. You're building a life here. You moved back here, we followed you here. You know as long as you're here we are, but let us know if you don't see a future here. We need to know if we should put down roots or not. Boyd likes it here and I'm starting to come around to it, but if you plan on leaving we need to know."

Derek shook his head. "No matter what happened here, this is my home. This is Hale land."

"It won't be if you forfeit."

He looked down. "We are a pack of three, this is a supernatural beacon. There's no way we could protect it. I do my part at my job. Besides, I could never take this land from the McCall-Stilinski pack. They've taken care of it since we left. I couldn't do that to the sheriff and alpha McCall."

"Doesn't us not having territory make us vulnerable?"

He tilted his head from one side to the other. "Normally, yes. But the alpha and the sheriff know we're here. They have accepted our presence, so we are allowed on this property. That means we won't have any claim to it, but we will still be protected like it is ours. They could always kick us out, but as long as they don't find out I'm an alpha there shouldn't be a problem. We will be treated as accepted guests from another pack."

She nodded thinking. "And what if our pack expanded? What if Issac came back?"

"We could always work out something with them. From what we've heard they're very unorthodox. Hell, just having a true alpha and the sheriff as it's two leading members is crazy enough."

"Hm. Okay. Well, they better not find out. How did returning the dish to hot neighbor go?"

"I haven't yet."

She gaped. "What? Why not? I thought you'd be all eager to see your boy again."

"I didn't want him to think I ate them in two days."

Erica crunched a water chestnut. "But you did!"

"Yeah, but what if when I told him that, he thought I was lying and he thought I threw them away?"

She threw an egg roll at him. "Just give it back you idiot."

---

It was three nights later and Derek had decided to just go to bed. But damn Erica. Her words were ringing in his ears. He grabbed the container before pulling on his boots.

He knocked on the door and wiped his sweaty hands on his pajama pants.

He heard muffled thumping noises and a yelp from the door. There was a soft noise of surprise before Derek heard a chain sliding and the door unlocking.

The man looked as sleep deprived as always, but he had a bat loosely held in one hand. "You scared the shit out of me! The only other time another soul was at my door this late was when someone tried to break in."

Derek was alarmed.

"Don't worry. I had my bat then too." He gave it an expert twirl that didn't fit with the previously clumsy impression Derek had of him.

"And here I thought we lived in a good part of town."

The man laughed. "The bad parts tend to follow me."

"I can't imagine much of anything not wanting to follow you."

The man turned light pink. "Is that my container?"

Derek held it up. "I washed it."

The man started to reach for it. Derek tried to channel everything Erica told him. He pulled it back. The man looked at him with distrust. "I can't give this back until I get a recipe."

The man scoffed. "You bake?"

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Fair enough. But no can do. Babcia would roll over in her grave, and she's not even dead yet."

Derek laughed. "Well then, fine." He smirked in the way Erica told him to and leaned on the door frame with a forearm. "How about you give me somewhere I can go to get my sugar fix?" Derek really hoped he didn't slam the door in his face.

The man's mouth was gaping and his heart was fast. "Do you know the grocery store on fifth street?"

Derek's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"For your sugar fix. They sell them there." The man looked earnest.

Derek straightened back up embarrassed. "Oh. Um, thanks. I-"

The man burst out laughing. Derek realized he was messing with him. "You're a shit aren't you?"

The man shrugged. "I wasn't the one that leaned up against the door frame like a douche."

"It was a little douchey wasn't it?"

The man held up his thumb and pointer close together. "Just a bit."

Derek smiled at him. "Well, there we have it. You shouldn't listen to Lydia, and I shouldn't listen to Erica."

"I knew an Erica once, definitely don't listen to her."

Derek nodded. "Well, I should give this back." He handed over the container.

"How about this, if you have more tally marks by the end of next week, I'll make a double batch just for you."

Derek nodded. "That sounds perfect. But be warned, those were some of the best cookies I've ever had. I'll bring my A game for babcia's cookies."

The man smiled. "I'd expect nothing less." The man hesitated slightly. "But if you want, if you're going to be up anyway, I have some more inside." The man bit his lip nervously.

Derek took effort to not immediately say yes far too loud. "I could definitely be persuaded with cookies. Do you have to work?"

The man shrugged. "As long as I get my stuff done he doesn't care when I work and I'm ahead. If I'm being honest I was just about to say screw work and watch Captain America."

"Which one?"

"The first one." The man tapped the container against his palm.

"That one is my favorite."

He opened his mouth before closing it. "Do you want to? If you aren't too tired, do you want to watch it?"

Derek had just finished a twelve hours shift that was so busy he barely had time to eat. "I'm never too tired for Captain America. Do you need to get some sleep?"

"I'm never too tired to see Bucky Barnes in uniform." The man smiled.

"We have that in common."

The man looked surprised. "Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Derek smiled. "Oh?"

The man smiled right back. "Yeah."

Derek looked into his mesmerizing eyes. "Yeah."

The man looked down and then away. "Okay, make yourself comfortable on the couch. I just have to shut down my computer and g-"

"Get the cookies." Derek supplied.

The man rolled his eyes. "You're like a child."

He shrugged.

---

Parish clapped his back. "I know yesterday was rough, but you look like shit. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Nope." Derek said with a smile.

"Damn. Why do you look so happy about it Hale?"

He shrugged. "I got cookies and watched the Captain America movies." He didn't mention how there was also hours of debate originally about the movies, but then moved to the entire MCU and then other things. That one of the many times the man flung out his arms, his brushed Derek's and if he focused he could still smell the cinnamon he originally thought came from the cookies.

Parish looked at him puzzled. "You're a weird one Hale."

---

At the end of the week they were tied and the man held up a container enticingly. They had set up the rule that whoever had the most wins by three am won. It was down to the last second and they both sped up so Derek could catch up. He ended up triumphant and the man acted being put out upon briefly before grabbing the container.

There was a knock and Derek had to count to ten, so he didn't know he was waiting at the door.

"I admit. You won it fair and square. Enjoy your cookies."

"Yeah. I definitely will. But if you wanted some, that could be arranged." Derek offered.

"I have some back at my place, but I could go for a coffee."

Derek grinned. "Coffee can be done." He held open the door.

---

"We talked about everything and nothing. He's so interesting. Just the way he thinks about things, god the way he explains himself is like porn. And fuck, his smile. His smile should be illegal. You know?" Stiles gushed.

Lydia stayed still with an expectant look on her face.

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes. His voice went low and mocking, "Lydia you were right."

"I know. So what's his name."

Stiles immediately opened his mouth before snapping it shut and his eyes widened comically.

"Don't tell me yo- Oh my god Stiles! You don't know his name?!"

Stiles rubbed his hands down his face while groaning. "Maybe he said it and I don't remember, but now it will be weird if I ask!"

"For someone so smart, you can be so dumb."

---

"Fuck Laura I don't know his name!"

Cora's laughter was a given, but sweet down to earth Toni's snickers weren't hidden even by her girlfriend's outrageous laugh.

---

He had been working on this problem for hours. The code seemingly mocking him just like his rubber duck that was now in time out. He cracked his neck and changed positions.

Stiles' smile was face splitting when he saw the brightness coming from across the street.

The man waved as he came out ten minutes later in pjs with a bowl of what Stiles assumed to be cereal.

They played a few games before Derek started to yawn. He should get to bed. He motioned that he was going to head in and the man nodded before adding a mark to his own side. Derek nearly collided with the door when it didn't open as he expected. He groan before starting to jiggle it. It wouldn't budge. If he broke it the landlord, who already didn't like him, would be angry. He patted his pockets so he could at least call Erica, but he left it inside. Great. Just great. He turned to see if the man had noticed.

Stiles was laughing his ass off. His neighbor had locked himself out. He had tears in his eyes. He calmed down and met his flat face and it set Stiles off again. This time when he calmed down his neighbor had a small smile. Stiles motioned for him to wait a moment.

Several minutes later Derek heard a rustling at his front door.

Oh great, he locked himself on his balcony, and he was getting robbed. Worst of all the man across the street probably left to get a camera.

He listened and recognized the heartbeat just as the door clicked and gave way. That mop of messy hair looked as cute as ever, even if it puzzled Derek how he knew how to pick locks. The man waved and Derek knocked on the glass before pouting out his bottom lip.

The man laughed once again.

He jiggled the door from the inside to let his neighbor back in. "Welcome to my humble abode." He said as he opened the door.

Derek ignored his comment. "Where did you learn to do that?" He nodded towards the door he closed behind himself. If this man was an international thief or something of the like Derek needed to know.

The man turned on his heels starting to walk, after throwing a suggestive at Derek. "I have a lot of talents, but I'm especially good with my hands."

Derek smirked even if he couldn't see it and walked after him. "And here I was wondering about that mouth."

The man stopped dead, and Derek collided with his back. On instinct Derek's hand went to his hip.

"Oh I'm really good with that too." Maybe it was just Derek, but it felt like the man was leaning backwards into his space.

"Yeah? Am I going to have to lock myself out again to figure out your other hidden talents?"

The man shook his head, and Derek could feel his rabbiting heartbeat. "No. A date. Next Thursday, that new Ryan Reynolds movie is out. You wanted to see it. Didn't you?" A little bit of doubt crept into that question he asked to give Derek an out.

Derek leaned in to breath on his neck. The man was intoxicating. "I want to see that movie so bad, I don't know how I am possibly supposed to wait until Thursday. I want to see that movie so bad, I wish it could just be Thursday." Derek ghosted his bottom lip down his neck. "I want to see that movie so bad, I'm practically shaking."

Stiles' voice shook, "H-how do you know it will be worth the wait?"

"The trailers have been a tantalizing."

"Really? Are you sure you don't need a few reviews? I'm sure it has some glowing ones."

Derek gripped his hip tighter. "I prefer to make my own opinions."

"Yeah? Well, it probably will be good, it's got a stellar lead."

Derek nodded letting his lips drag against his neck. The man shivered. "I would let that sarcastic brunet do what ever he wanted to me."

"Ryan Reynolds is one of the hottest actors."

"Oh, him? I guess he's okay too."

Just like that Stiles was at the end of his rope. He spun around and wrapped his arms around his neighbor's neck to pull him down. "I'm going to k-"

Derek cut the man off by beating him to the punch. And boy, it felt like Derek was punched instead.

Stiles buried his hand in his hair. Derek nipped at his lip and the man's mouth fell open in a groan. Derek seized his opportunity. The man tasted of coffee and desperation, probably as much as Derek did. Stiles pulled his hair and he gripped Stiles' hips and harshly pulled them to his own. Stiles walked Derek backwards until they collided with the glass door.

Time was lost to Stiles. All he knew was the person in front of him. He felt a hand sneak under his shirt. He pulled back. "Fuck." He breathed harshly. "Fuck, if you do that I won't make it to Thursday."

Derek started to bite and kiss at his neck instead.

"Fuck if you do, that, I won't last five minutes." He could feel a smile press against his throat.

"What do you recommend I do?"

Stiles closed his eyes to clear his mind. "Don't do, any of what you're doing." He peeked his eyes open. "In fact, your face? That's got to stop too. It is much too distracting."

"Oh okay. And what abo-"

"Yep, your voice is another thing that isn't going to happen right now."

He leaned back into his neck. "Sorry. How's this?" He rubbed his beard against his neck.

There was a gasp before he gripped his hair and pulled his head back. He spoke forcefully, "You, are doing that Thursday! Everywhere." Stiles slammed their lips together again.

Derek pulled back. "Do you need to get back to your computer?"

"Fuck my computer." Stiles spoke the last word practically against his lips.

Stiles pulled back. "I left your door open."

"Fuck my door." Derek pressed his smile to his lips.

"I'd rather fuck you."

Stiles went to kiss him again, but his neighbor burst out laughing. "No! No laughing. Kiss me!"

Derek's laugh rang out regardless of the pout. They kissed until they were interrupted by a small meow.

The man pulled back with wide eyes. "You have a cat!"

Derek was concerned. "Are you allergic?"

Stiles left him pressed against the glass door. He looked around. "Here, kitty kitty."

Lucian sauntered closer.

Derek started coming closer. "I wouldn't try to pet him! He hates all people and will bite you if you don't leave him alone. Really he's a huge asshole named Lucian."

Stiles held out his hand and Lucian eagerly pressed his head against his hand. Stiles looked back. "Right, sure. A big asshole. He's a sweetie. Aren't you?" He did a pet voice. "Oh, yes you are."

Lucian practically rolled over on to his belly and purred. Derek looked in disbelief. "He doesn't normally do that."

The man scoffed. He went to pick Lucian up cautiously and he almost leap into his arms. "Of course not. Because you're the huge asshole. Isn't he Luci? He is. Lying about you being mean, but you're a little sweetheart." Lucian gave a little meow of agreement.

---

Over the next few days Stiles found just about every single way to tease a man while not being able to speak and with an alley in-between them.

Thursday Derek knocked on his door and was breathless when it opened. "I thought sleepy you would kill me, but those jeans are a sin."

The man flushed. "Oh, well I prefer you without a shirt. I haven't had the pleasure yet, but I figure that rule applies to pants as well."

"Be good tonight and you might get it."

Stiles closed the door behind himself and leaned in to peck his lips. "I'm never good." He winked and walked away.

They whispered jokes back and forth the entire movie and almost got kicked out for laughing. They barely made it up into Derek's apartment before they were tearing each others clothes off. They fell into bed in a whirlwind.

While their breath was calming Stiles had a thought. "I should probably give you my number, huh?"

Derek laughed and agreed, "Yeah, you should." Before he rolled over, caging him with his arms again and nosing at his neck.

---

He felt someone staring at him and he looked up. "What?"

Parrish had a haunted look on his face. "What is your face doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look... Happy?!" Parrish ran away laughing as Derek threw paperclips at him.

The sheriff appeared beside him with a disapproving look.

"Sir, I-"

He clapped him on the shoulder. "Happy looks good on you, Hale."

Parrish looked surprised. "Are you letting go of your five month plan?"

The sheriff sipped his coffee. "Nah. It just might have to be moved to the five year plan."

Parrish laughed and he smirked. Derek was confused, but he let it go figuring they wouldn't tell him anyway.

Derek called after the sheriff as he headed toward the break room. "I put a yoghurt in the fridge for you! Leave the donuts alone!"

"Christ Hale, you're worse than my kid."

"To be a deputy I need a sheriff!"

"Love you too kid." He called before shutting the door to eat his yoghurt.

Derek felt pleased, but tried not to show it. The warmth in his chest blossomed anyway.

---

Scott's neck nearly snapped as he turned to him. "Dude you got laid!"

Stiles grimaced. "That's so gross! I showered like three times."

"It's not that, you just have this settledness. A contentment that comes after."

"Still weird dude."

---

They texted constantly. Now that Stiles could gloat in-between games and make sarcastic comments it was constant. Derek gave as good as he got, though.

Whenever his phone buzzed he was smiling before he could even realize it. They talked about anything and everything. The man went down the programming rabbit hole once, till they banned work talk before he could even find out what his neighbor did for a living. But other than that they shared everything. Well, he still didn't know the man's name, but that was unimportant when you've held a person as they told you about losing their mom and in turn told them about all the family you'll never see again. Derek was never tired of the man. For two weeks they kept getting closer and texting constantly. It was like normal social rules didn't exist with the man. One moment they'd be talking about video games and the next they spoke about their third favourite ice cream flavor, or how they've disappointed the people closest to them. They always had an argument about something, but it always ended in laughter. This had been what he was missing. This had been what he wanted. Someone to share the little parts of his day with. Someone that cared and couldn't wait to see him.

But in the small moments when they sat in silence he could tell there was something the man wasn't telling him. Sometimes he would chew his nails staring off into the distance with a worry on his face. When Derek would ask what was wrong he would dismiss it as nothing. He kept getting more and more on edge through the two weeks, but he acted like normal until Derek got his text.

It had been a busy day, if it wasn't one thing it was another. Paperwork and deadlines that had to be met, things to be catalogued, and someone to be arrested. He got off around two that night thankfully. Derek wanted to kick off his shoes and just go straight over to his balcony, but his phone buzzed almost immediately after his light went on.

His smile dimmed as he saw that the man had a very important work problem and couldn't be distracted.

Derek understood. He really did. He went to take a shower and tried not to feel the unwarranted disappointment. Sometimes people were busy, that was fine. He tried to settle into bed, but he couldn't close his eyes without thoughts of the man. Maybe if he just saw him, he would be able to sleep. His bare feet hit the cold floor as he walked out to the balcony.

As soon as he opened the door his face fell into a frown. His blinds were closed.

Surely he wasn't... Derek thought about how the man couldn't keep his hands off of him. He listened in, but was met with the sounds of computer typing, frustrated noises, and mumbled complaints. He was definitely working, but why would he close his blinds?

Derek got back into bed still thinking. Maybe he just needed a break from him. Or maybe it was really a big work problem that he couldn't handle being distracted from.

Thoughts about the man kept Derek awake and not even Tom Hardy in a lobster tank could lull him to sleep.

It was four am and he had gotten no sleep. He shut off the movie on his laptop. The more he thought about it the more confused and frustrated he was with not knowing what happened. He was now beyond tired and grumpy. He switched shifts with someone so he went to the kitchen to make himself something to eat and get some much needed coffee before work. He put some toast in before reaching for the coffee tin.

He sighed so loudly Lucian came into the room out of curiosity. "Why of all days? Why me?" Derek threw the empty coffee tin in the garbage. Yesterday was so busy he forgot to get some. There was no way he was going to work without coffee, but nowhere would be open this early.

He had a thought. Hm, worth a go.

He listened and sure enough the man was still up, pacing his flat. Derek grabbed his keys.

He knocked and soon enough the door swung open. The man looked disheveled and Derek was instantly hit with a wall of stress, anxiety, and fear.

Derek immediately forgot that he had been agitated or that he was under caffeinated. "What's wrong?"

The man looked caught off guard. "What? Why are you here?"

It wasn't said unkindly just with curiosity, but it still hurt. "I'm out of coffee, and I have to work in three hours."

"Right. Fine. I've just got to focus on this work thing. It's really-"

Derek lifted an eyebrow then looked over at where his computer was off.

The man scrubbed a hand down his face. "It's complicated."

Derek nodded. "I get complicated. That's okay if things are complicated. I just don't want, you feeling comfortable talking to me, to be one of them. So I'm going to go make us some coffee. And if you want to talk we can sit on the couch until you find a way to make it sound uncomplicated. If not I can take my coffee, go to work, and wait for the day it either is too complicated or it isn't anymore. I'll wait if you aren't ready or if this is too soon, but there is nothing that you could say that I wouldn't want to hear. Simply for the fact that it's you saying it."

Derek was tackled into a kiss that tasted like stale coffee. "It's in the cabinet by the sink."

They stood in silence as Derek made them coffee. The man went over to his bread box and pulled out a container of peanut butter cookies. Derek looked at him softly.

"I know they aren't your mom's, but I figured I-"

Derek pulled him into a hug. "They'll be perfect." Derek turned to get the sugar out and set the mugs down.

"I want the big ba-"

"The big Batman one. I know. It's the one you use the most at your desk."

Stiles wrapped himself around his back while he poured them coffee and he kissed the back of his shoulder. "More sugar."

He shook his head and set the sugar down.

Stiles turned to mouth at his neck and then whispered, "More sugar, please?"

He swore before dumping more in. "Jesus. You'll be the death of me."

Stiles smiled and bit at just the right spot as he crept his hand under his shirt.

"Fuck your hands are cold."

"Why don't you warm them up then?" Stiles danced his fingers along his skin.

"I know what you're doing."

Stiles pulled his ear between his teeth and whispered breathily, "Is it working?"

"No."

He scraped his nails down his side and Derek shivered. "Yes." Derek turned around and held his chin to kiss him. He leaned back to look into his eyes. "If you don't want to talk about it you don't have to distract me, we just don't have to talk about it. I just want you to have someone to talk about things with, even if they aren't happy."

The man looked at him with an undecipherable look, before tears started to gather in his eyes. He pulled him in for a sweet kiss and leaned their foreheads together. "This is much too soon for just how deeply I care for you. This is weird."

Derek smiled at him. "Yeah, it is. So what? You're weird. I'm weird. Why wouldn't we be weird together?"

Derek walked over to the couch and set their mugs down. "So, am I taking a seat?"

Stiles nodded at him. He sat down and started drinking his coffee and pulled his legs up. He waited patiently as Stiles began to pace. "Are you sure?"

Derek shrugged. "There are few things I've been more sure of than you."

Stiles let out a humorless laugh as he shook his head. "You see that right there! I can tell you're a defensive and closed off person. You don't trust easily. You had people take advantage of you, so you don't let people into your life, but with me you, you just trust me. And that scares me. Because what if I hurt you? Then I'll just be another one of the people you trusted that hurt you. And God we're moving so fast! Surely this is too fast? People normally don't go this fast. But it doesn't feel wrong. Well, I mean it does, but only for the fact that it doesn't feel wrong to be going this fast. Does that make sense? It probably doesn't. But God you just scare me because I've dated, I've had boyfriends and girlfriends. I've had casual hook ups and serious relationships, but I have never once thought about if my dad would be proud to walk me down the aisle to any of them. That is a crazy thought to have! And I thought that after the first time we had sex! That's crazy! I'm crazy! I shouldn't think about getting married after knowing you for like less than a month! And I've never felt like I had to be fake with you. I've never thought oh God what if my laugh is obnoxious? What if doesn't like the way I walk or the way I dress or the way I act? What if I'm too much of a nerd for him? What if I like him more than he likes me? I mean you're sex on legs, practically a Greek god and I'm just me. But you never make me feel like just me. You make me feel special. I never once have thought what if I'm too skinny or not muscled enough. I've never thought any of that."

He took a big deep breath in.

"Not a single thing like it. It's just so easy to be me around you, and it scares me. I tell you everything. You know about Scott and my mom and the boy named Theo in eighth grade that broke my heart. I tell you about the history of male circumcision and my time at Berkeley. And I know things about you. You told me that she took advantage of you when you haven't even told your sisters that. Sometimes I think I know you inside and out, but then I remember just how little I know, how little time we've know each other. Hell, I sat on your face and I don't know your middle name, fuck or your first! But I know you had a dog named Lucky when you were six. I know all these things, but when I think of a day I don't get to learn more about you it ruins my mood. I want to know everything about you, and I want you to know everything about me."

The man's eyes looked wild and scared as he flailed his arms.

"I ramble! It's a thing I do! I'm doing it right now! And you don't even care. You just get this look in your eyes like it would kill you if I ever shut up. And let me tell you, I'm used to having the exact opposite. I am constantly told to shut up. But you, you just calm me down from panic attacks and text me so my day isn't boring and look all super hot when you kiss me. And right now I should feel different. I should feel sorry for talking this much, but I don't. Because it's you."

He stopped moving and looked into Derek's eyes deeply. "Because it's you. You scare me. Because it's you. You don't make me feel sorry for being me."

Derek nodded. He sat his mug down and put his legs back down before widening them and patting the space between them.

Stiles walked over and collapsed into his lap. He straddled him and wrapped his arms around his neck.

When Derek encircled his torso the man slumped against him as he buried his head into his neck.

They clung to each other for several moments before Derek spoke, "It scares me too. My sisters are sick of hearing about you and Erica is dying to meet you. I'm nervous to meet Scott and down right terrified to meet your dad. My middle name is Samuel. I thought about if we would move or live here and if you would want kids. This scares me. I haven't had a proper long term relationship where they didn't try to kill me. I closed myself off from everyone for so long to heal that I forgot what it was like to trust someone. How to do it. I shouldn't trust you, not this soon. But I look into your eyes and my life is yours. We already disregard the social norms, why should this be any different? You scare me. But fuck what we should do. Fuck how it's supposed to go. Let's just be scared and trust each other entirely too soon." Derek didn't know if it was instinct, or just the universe finally giving him something, but he knew down to his bones that he could trust Stiles.

Stiles exhaled shakily. "I've started sleeping better because I know you're there. I don't have as many panic attacks, because I know you're a text away. I know you're across the street. I know you're there for me, and I'm not used to that and it freaks me out. It freaks me out how it's felt like there's been this hole in my life for so long, and when I look in your eyes everything seems just a little bit less hard. A little bit less like tomorrow isn't going to happen the way it's supposed to. A little bit like you're the solution to a problem I didn't even know I was asking."

He seemed to absorb that all for a moment as he rubbed soothing circles into Stiles' hip.

He stopped his circles and after a few seconds Stiles prodded, "What, what is it?"

"You don't have to answer, but if you do, answer honestly. I would rather your silence than lies. And it's okay if you don't have the answer." Derek resumed the circles.

Stiles leaned his head up and looked at him searchingly. He put his hand on the side of his face and swept broad lines along his cheekbone. "What is it?"

"Why are your lights on at three am?"

Stiles scoffed and pushed lightly on his chest. "Because I can't sleep dumbass. Why are you seeing my lights on at three am." He asked rhetorically.

His heart hadn't skipped, but it quickened. Derek looked contemplative and serious. "Because I was lonely. Because nighttime feels like the kind of peace around you that you can't help but pull it inward. Because I work the night shift. Because some days it's hard to face myself, but nighttime is made to shadow sin. Because I like to look at the moon. Because sometimes daytime is too stressful. If you want a more recent answer, because my cute neighbor is up then too. And since the first time I saw him I knew he was the type of beautiful that sunlight burned with insincerity, but moonlight kissed with truth. I'm up because sometimes my body just doesn't want to sleep no matter how tired I am." His eyes had a piercing quality. "Why are your lights on at three am?"

Stiles looked down.

"There's stuff I can't tell you. At least not yet. It's not just my secret to tell. I don't want to lie to you, but there is just this one thing, this one side of me that you aren't ready for. But I will be honest about it as soon as I can be."

Derek knew he was honest. Christ, Stiles was the most brutally honest person he'd ever met. Rarely did his heart skip a beat when Derek wasn't doing something to cause it. But every once and awhile Derek could tell he was trying to not lie. Trying not to keep anything, but also not giving. Derek was okay with it. Because even in his big secret Stiles was being open and honest with him... Even with the things he couldn't be. "Okay." Derek nodded.

Stiles' head shot up. "Okay? Just okay? No interrogation? No dramatic, 'What how could you?' come on, where's your sense of flair?"

Derek knew he was trying to hide his genuine shock.  "I trust you, remember? Trust me and tell me about what you can. If you can't tell me it, don't lie. There's things I can't tell you yet either, but I will."

The man still looked like he was trying to peer through his eye sockets to find something that was etched in the back side of his skull. He must've found it, because his air of defensiveness left him in such a big whoosh Derek could almost taste the change in the air.

"I'm awake, because I have insomnia. I'm awake, because my brain won't just shut off sometimes. I'm awake, because if there's a problem that needs solving, I can't sleep until it is. I'm awake, because I was lonely too. I'm awake at night because I'm good at coding and if I do it at three am the only person I have to lie about it being fulfilling is myself. I'm awake, because failed dreams don't belong in the daytime. I'm awake, because in the mornings I itch to solve cases and help people while doing my dream job, so it's easier to just sleep through them. I'm awake, because I'm too tired to sleep. I'm awake, because there's this sleeping beast inside me that slumbers enough for both of us, and sometimes I am terrified if I sleep too much I will awaken to it having woke up before me. I'm awake, because I am scared."

Derek could smell the saltiness of tears. "Scared of what? Something other than me?"

Stiles gripped him harder. "You're a part of it. Well, more like this is the reason you scare me so much."

Derek rubbed up and down his back and waited.

"I'm scared of my life. I'm scared of my future. The only easy part about high school was I knew where I fit in. I was the sheriff's kid. I was up to no good. I was a nerd. I wasn't popular. Scott and I were the most important thing in each other's lives other than our parents. Now it's just like, I'm adrift. Do I stay in Beacon Hills? Do I leave? Are me and Scott still best friends? Should I date, or should I be happy alone? Should I do this job or that one? Should I tell Scott that he should stop being such a cabbage and just marry her already? Should I be encouraging my dad to get back out there more? Should I buy this or do that? It's all of these choices that will shape my future and I'm terrified to make the wrong one. And you know, I can actually see it. My perfect life. The life I think I could never deserve but want to be able to one day. I see it all. And the thing is, I'm great at plans. I made them for everything, but how do you plan for your entire life when so much could go wrong? And it terrifies me. It terrifies me that I could break it. That if I don't do one thing exactly right I'll ruin all the other things. Or if I try one of the things it will break all of the others. I don't want to do that. I can't. Because I see that life for me, and I don't see how I could be happy in another, so I just- I don't mean to- I just accidentally- I-"

"You wreck things before they can break. You turn down jobs because they're your dream job, but you don't have the rest of your dream yet. You push people out of your life, because you don't have all of the people you want in it. You don't build a home that will feel hollow with just you in it. You try to hurt yourself before anyone else can do it for you, I know the feeling." And my god, did Derek. It was like hearing from himself. As Derek finished he could smell the relief coming off of him in waves.

"I don't mean to wreck it, I just do. And some nights I just panic, because how could I be that stupid? Others, I just feel so numb to everything. I don't know how to get to where I want to be and it's fucking terrifying."

Derek nodded. "I guess I don't think about my future. I'm just waiting for it to be taken from me. I know I want to be there for my sisters and my friends, but long term I don't have a clue what I want. It's always just what I have in front of me. I love my job. I have a workable apartment. Things like that matter, but I don't think about them long term."

"Wow. I can't even imagine that. Not thinking about every possible thing."

Derek shrugged. "I usually only think about what could go wrong."

"What do you see going wrong with us?"

"Most of the time? You getting tired of me and just waking up on day wanting to leave."

Stiles laughed. "Well that's bullshit. We already talked about how hard it is for me to get to sleep."

They both had soft unseen smiles.

"Will you tell me about it? What you see for yourself? Do you feel comfortable sharing that with me?" Derek was a little bit worried to see if he would somehow fit into his dream.

"We've swapped enough bodily fluids for that to not be a crazy request."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Will you tell me what you see? What you see for yourself, your future?"

Stiles sighed contemplative. "I see Scott and Allison happily married with kids. At least two, who call me uncle Stiles and I spoil rotten. I see my dad happy and healthy. Hopefully, with someone that makes him even happier and enforces the no double bacon cheeseburgers rule. I see my friends happy and safe, never too far away. I see the town safe, not necessarily quiet because I'd get bored, but manageable."

He paused long enough for Derek to realize he was done. "And for yourself?"

"That's a bit trickier. I see myself working from Beacon Hills. For the FBI as a profiling and strategy consultant. I see my Jeep still clunking around. I see a house. A big one. Not the type you would buy because it was cheap or convenient. The type that you only get when you're ready to fill it. I see family and friends gathering at our place. I see a spouse, a husband."

He seemed shy admitting that and Derek grinned. "Does this spouse have, and I quote, 'The cheekbones of an Adonis and the ass of Captain America.' by any chance?"

"In all my fantasies before they were amorphous. Never male or female for sure. Well, except when I pictured Tom Hiddleston or Jennifer Lawrence. They never looked like any one thing. They were just a concept. Now, he has the most amazing eyes. You would swear they were green, but then again maybe they're a little bit of everything."

Derek was grinning before, now he was beaming. Tears almost pouring out of kaleidoscopes.

"I see a couple of kids. Maybe fostered. But fostered, adopted, surrogate it doesn't really matter." Stiles shrugged. "I want to feel like I'm important to people. Like I'm the person they can't wait to see when they get home. I want to have a home. One that no one can ever take away or claim, because it's mine. People shouldn't be able to take homes from people. Before anything else I have to make sure what is mine, can't be taken."

"I don't think homes should be taken either. Even if you leave, that doesn't make it any less yours. You should have a place for your family, your future. People shouldn't take that from you, they should give it to you."

They just sat there breathing together and clinging to each other.

"If you think about it, what do you see?"

Derek didn't reply right away.

"I don't really know. I mean I know some things. Like I want Erica and Boyd to be there, Issac too if he wants to move back. I want my sisters to be alive and happy. I just want to be a part of a- a family again."

"Would you move back to New York? You mentioned you have family there."

When Erica had asked him things seemed so clouded, now they were clearer than they'd ever been. "No. That is my sister's place. I-" Derek's mind was clear and sure about the future for the first time in awhile. "I have a place here. This is where I belong and I never should've thought otherwise. Besides, I have a reason to stay here now. To build a life. One where I'm happy, in love, and annoyed at my husband. One where I have a family. A job I love, an over bearing boss too. One with kids and a house. Hell, I'd throw in a picket fence to go for the full cliche. One where I have someone to tell all about the family I lost. One with things to keep me on my toes, and people. One where I'm supposed to be."

Derek looked at him appreciatively. "I never knew I wanted that, or that I could. I thought I didn't deserve it, but you've made me yearn for it now. I want a life. I will make a life for myself. And for the people that want to share it with me." Derek's voice had a tone of awe, but certainty.

Stiles laced their fingers together.

Too soon Derek had to disentangle himself for work. As he went to walk towards the door the man caught him by his arm. "At first I thought it was cute and a great story to tell, to see how long we could go, but now I just want to be able to say your name. To hear you say mine. But not yet. There's this thing with Scott. Next Friday night. I'll do that and after it I want to know the name of the man I'm going to build my life with. Next Friday. Okay? After that we can be all cute and shit saying each others names with love in our eyes and all that garbage okay?"

Derek rolled his eyes then nodded. "I'll be ready after Friday too. It's time I made something right. After Friday we can start our lives anywhere in Beacon Hills. It will be ours."

Stiles looked at him with a spark in his eye. "Exactly. It will be ours." He said it like a promise.

---

Stiles' shoulders had been up to his ears the entire week leading up to Friday. Well, until Derek came by to massage them back down. They slept together every night to stave off Stiles' panic attacks. Both of them being soothed by another heartbeat. Stiles tried not to be nervous, but the Malikhai pack had been taunting them all week. Stiles knew it was serious because Jackson flew in. Jackson would only come if Lydia asked, and if Lydia was asking they were in deep shit.

Stiles and Derek had said goodbye that morning with Derek offering words of encouragement in exchange for weak smiles.

Stiles wanted to be more sure. He did. This was their land. They fought every fucking monster that was drawn to Satan's wooden dildo. And no matter how many times they got reamed up the ass they just picked out the splinters and carried on and protected the damn supernatural beacon. Because this was their motherfucking land. This was their home and no body was going to take that. Certainly not some asshole alpha who had no claim besides, 'The pack that abandoned it and left it all to a bunch of teenagers might want it. And they should have first pick because they called dibs.' It was bull.

Stiles' angry thoughts served as a pep talk and his hands stopped their shaking. Scott gave him a reassuring look and Stiles looked back with an affirming nod. They could do this.

They stood shoulder to shoulder in the clearing. All of the people that were important to him were here, Scott, his dad, Allison, Lydia, Jackson. Everyone except him, but he was doing this for him. For the future.

Deaton was off to the side as an intermediary.

Stiles was just about to make a comment about tardiness when Scott stiffened.

Stiles looked to the treeline ahead of them and straightened his shoulders and hardened his face.

Six figures, the same as their number as they agreed, emerged from the trees.

Everyone assessed for a moment.

There was an overly happy voice. "Well, nice to see even a bitten wolf and a human can accomplish showing up."

"And nice to see a born one can disregard tradition and be late." Stiles earned a few snarls.

The snide remarks kept being thrown back and forth till finally Stiles had enough. "This is not your land! You have no right to it!"

The other alpha's second spoke up, "Oh? And you do? True alpha my ass. There's no way he is one at his age and skill level. And one that co-alphas with a human nonetheless. What about the rest of your so called pack? Two weak humans, a lizard, a girl who can scream, and worst of all, a hunter." Her fangs grew as she spit out the last word like poison. "You're not a pack. You're an after school club that needs to go down for a nap. Grandpa too."

Stiles chuckled. "Debating our pack's strength will get you nowhere. You could've taken this land right after the Hales left, but you didn't. We took care of it. We made sure this land's people lived. We kept those who wished it harm, out. We made this our home and you can't take it without breaking the most sacred of laws and traditions. This is our land, it is ours. As we have taken care of it, it too shall take care of us. As we dwell within it, it dwells within us. As we draw on it's power, it draws on ours. As we are a part of this land, this land is a part of us." Stiles recited just like the book he read said. He took his father and Scott's hand and the pack linked hands. Stiles smirked. "In other words, I speak for the trees bitch."

His eyes began to glow and the wind picked up. The trees around them all began to bend. The branches closest to their pack shielded them while the other pack was batted and scraped.

The wind died down. The other pack looked pissed, but knew better than to challenge a pack on their own turf with even numbers.

Their alpha turned to Deaton with a sickly sweet smile. "Druid, I request you let one more person enter the circle of sanctuary. No harm will come of anyone, but they will shed some light on how this is their land. They recently changed their minds about some things. And since the rituals of claim need till tonight to solidify, their claim is as valid as any. This is their birthright after all." He said with a sneer towards Scott.

Stiles had a momentary freak out. What if Laura changed her mind? But she said she wouldn't. She gave her word. This was likely some sort of trick.

Deaton looked to him and Scott. They both shared a brief look then nodded to him. Deaton spoke steady and clear. "One can draw near, but they may not cause harm nor fear." A small break in the barrier was broken and they could see outside the circle.

Derek walked in and both Stilinski men stood stock still with shock. Derek looked to the other alpha and nodded before scanning both packs. He looked guiltily at the sheriff before freezing at the man next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Two voices demanded in unison.

Stiles crossed his arms. "You first."

The chill and guard in his eyes hurt Derek. "I came to claim this land."

Just as easily as the bond took hold, the pack felt it ripped from them to neutral territory.

Scott nudged Stiles. "You know him?"

Stiles squinted. Was this all just some ploy from the other pack to steal their land? Had this stranger really cared? Stiles looked into those eyes he had trusted till the moment they walked through the barrier. He was conflicted and confused. "I don't know."

His dad stepped forward. "Derek son, your alpha already forfeited this land. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry sir." He did look apologetic.

Stiles' eyes widened. "Derek?" His neighbor's eyes looked over to him. Had this all been some big lie? Had Derek been there to surveil him? And what, he just got bored and decided to play with his emotions? Stiles' face hardened once again. "You have no right. Your pack abandoned this land. Your alpha isn't here to claim it. You have no right to take from us. We protected this land. We cared for it, we bled for it! It is ours!" Stiles was speaking with force and anger.

That smarmy bastard had another smirk. "Why would Laura need to come? You see, Derek let me in on the most delicious little tidbit a few days ago. He's an alpha."

Stiles' blood ran cold. If Derek was an alpha, if he wanted the land it was his. His family lived here for generations. Hell, they practically built Beacon Hills. All he would have to do is say the words. If he claimed Beacon he could force them out.

The sheriff spoke with conviction, "Derek's not an alpha. He gave me his word. He gave his word that a Hale wouldn't claim Beacon."

Derek looked up with guilt in his eyes. "I said Laura wouldn't claim Beacon." And just like that the guilt was replaced by crimson.

The sheriff stepped back like he'd been slapped.

"I'm sorry sir. I know this is your pack, but this was my home. My territory. I want to build a future. I intended to take Beacon for my pack."

Stiles nearly flinched with how close the words were. If he just changed the tense they would lose this.

"But I think something might have changed." He turned to Deaton. "May I and one of their pack speak in private?" He motioned to the man next to the sheriff.

Deaton looked to Stiles and he nodded once again.

"Whoa, whoa wait. I'm not letting you go out there with some stranger, Stiles!" He grabbed his arm as he spoke.

Derek nearly growled and slashed at him until he recognized him as Scott. He looked and now that he was paying attention, he had seen all of these people in photos the man, Stiles had shown him.

"It's fine. I can handle it. If he tries anything," Stiles twirled his bat. "This is freshly wrapped in wolfsbane and ready to be shoved up an asshole."

Deaton spoke, "Pass may two, the door will shut until they are through."

The barrier once again opened and Stiles followed Derek out.

It was tense till they saw the barrier close.

Derek stepped closer. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what is even happening." Derek went to hold Stiles' arms, but he stepped back.

"I have granted your request. Speak alpha Hale." His voice was detached.

Derek looked crushed and confused. "No, no. Why are you doing that? No."

"You're the one that showed up to steal my land. After all that talk about home, family, and how no one should have theirs taken from them, you go and do this." Stiles scoffed. "To actually think I believed you. God, I am an idiot. Tell your sister bra-fuckin-vo. She must be one hell of a liar to have taught you so well."

"What are you talking about?"

Stiles looked murderous and he let out a scoff with a small deadly smile. "Oh don't give me that! You can stop lying now. God, after all that bullshit about not lying and being honest." The heat of rage flickered out for a moment and blinding hurt could be seen. "After all that shit about not lying, after me telling you things I haven't even told Scott, after we- I thought- I- I-" Stiles had tears threatening to spill as his voice cracked. "I was an idiot. You never cared for me. All you wanted was to take back Beacon."

Derek's eyes went wide with understanding. "No! No. No. No!" He tried to grab for Stiles again, but that made him grip his bat tighter and Derek decided to explain first. "I didn't give two shits about Beacon until a week ago. My pack and I were content to just live in peace on your land. Like I was a beta. I didn't want the responsibility, the weight of it, but you changed that. I realized I was being selfish. My pack deserves an alpha that provides. They deserve a home. And so do you. You made me want Beacon. You. You did that." Derek smiled at him.

Stiles felt a rock in his stomach. His family was about to lose their home and future because Stiles thought with his dick. After all the trouble he gave Scott. "So take it. You know we can't fight a Hale's claim." Stiles went to turn back to the barrier.

"God damn it, just wait! I wanted Beacon for you!" Derek softened. "For us. For our future."

The picture was starting to get clearer to Stiles. He spoke measured and clear, "Derek. You realize, that if you do this, if you take Beacon and force my family out, we won't have one. My future lies with my pack."

Derek looked overwhelmed. "Jesus, give me a second to figure this all out. I just had everything turned inside out. I wouldn't force you guys away. We would find another way."

Stiles shook his head. "If you claim this land we could never be together. It would feel like I was choosing you over Scott and my dad and my pack. That's something I can't do."

Derek looked lost. "If he claims this land my family's tradition and ties would die."

They stood in heartbroken silence.

Stiles tensed like he was shocked. "What if neither of those things happen?" Derek looked confused, but he continued, "What if they both do?"

"If two rivaling alphas compete, it would go to whoever completed the ritual first."

Stiles smiled wide. "Not if they weren't rivals or competing. What if we all claimed the land? I read somewhere that if two people have intent to marry or claim each other, they can share a territory until their bond is solidified."

"What are you saying?"

"Derek, I'm going to ask you something very important."

"Okay?"

"What is your favorite gummi bear flavor?"

"What?"

Stiles looked insistent.

"Orange. Why?"

Stiles looked gleeful. "All Stilinski's hate orange flavor. As soon as I found out Scott loved them I knew he was a keeper. I have something else important to ask you." Derek still looked confused, but was going with it. "I know we are no where near ready for it, but do you, somewhere in the very very distant future see yourself agreeing to eat orange gummi bears for the rest of your life?"

Derek looked confused before looking very freaked out. "Are you asking me to get married?!"

"No. Well, yes. But not until very very far in the future. It doesn't actually have to happen, the intent just has to be there in order to claim the territory. So if you have intent to marry the Stilinski alpha, three people can technically claim the territory, because Scott is the werewolf alpha, not just the human one. The human alpha would claim the territory and their pack alpha and their intended would also have equal claim on the territory."

Derek still looked freaked out and like he was going to throw up.

Stiles started dragging him back. "Magic wall, we're ready."

Derek's eyes widened. "No! No we're not!"

The barrier opened and Stiles shoved both of them through.

The air was tense and more than one person had claws out.

Stiles bulldozed ahead anyway. "We have a solution." He caught all attention. "As the law mandates, if two are intent to marry they can both claim the territory they will one day share. And if one is human, their alpha also has part ownership of the land. In this way three people can claim territory jointly. I declare intent for the Stilinski alpha to one day, very very distantly, to marry the alpha Derek Hale."

Everyone looked shocked, but especially his dad and Scott.

Derek was more red and green than adverts at Christmas time. He yanked on Stiles' arm. "No! Stiles stop! I'm not going to marry your dad!" With that harsh and very loud declaration everyone went deadly silent as they stared at Derek.

"What?" Derek felt like he was in one of those dreams where you'd forgotten your underwear.

Stiles looked calm as he spoke like he was speaking to a child, "Derek. Why would you think I meant you'd marry my dad." It sounded like a statement.

Derek made a wounded noise that seemed like he was saying it was obvious.

Stiles face dawned understanding, but was still carefully blank besides a faint trace of amusement. "Derek. Who do you think the Stilinski alpha is?"

Derek just huffed and threw out an arm to the sheriff like it was the only option.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips to mean, 'Try again.'

Derek stood dumbfounded.

Stiles groaned. "Derek, I'm the Stilinski alpha."

Derek's eyebrows went up to his hairline.

A snooty voice spoke, "Derek, just claim the land already. Your mother would be turning over in her grave if Talia knew what a pathetic bitch and his little human slut were ruining her town, much less that her son didn't immediately put a stop to it."

Stiles found it nice to know that Derek's face could go from, 'I might be a murderer.' to, 'I am two seconds away from ripping you limb from limb.' in two seconds.

"In case you've forgotten, my father was human. My mother welcomed all to her pack and was stronger for it." He had to snarl around large fangs. He grabbed Stiles' hand. "I declare intent to eventually marry the Stilinski alpha."

Stiles reached out for Scott's hand and he took it after a long look and a nod from Stiles.

Stiles spoke, "I declare intent to one day, a really mother fuckin long time from now, marry the Hale alpha Derek."

Stiles squeezed their hands and they spoke in unison. "We claim this territory." All of their eyes briefly flashed red.

Derek was still snarling. "Now get the fuck out of our territory before we declare intent to kill you for daring to use my mother's name like that."

"You can't-"

Deaton dropped the circle of sanctuary.

Stiles had a shark-like grin. "As we take care of it, it takes care of us." His eyes glowed as the wind whipped and trees and vines started to chase them out.

It was calm and still.

Stiles broke the silence. "So... Who wants pie?"

His dad grabbed him by the back of the neck. "Stiles, did you just get werewolf engaged?!"

"Easy pops! No. I got regular, 'Hey we're dating. This might lead to marriage, let's move in together.'ed.

His dad squinted before cuffing him on the back of his head. "I need pie. Then a nap. Then maybe an explanation as to what the hell just happened."

Scott raised his hand. "Ditto." His mouth dropped open. "Wait! Oh my god, dude! Is this hot neighbor! I thought his scent was familiar! But he didn't smell like a werewolf before when I smelled him on you."

They all looked to Derek in shock.

Allison got there first. "That's hot neighbor? Have my babies neighbor that you wouldn't shut up about is Derek Hale!?"

Stiles groaned. "Pie first. Then embarrass Stiles to death please. I want to go out on a full stomach."

An unidentified female voice spoke from behind some trees, "Pie sounds good. Who's treating?"

Instantly everyone was on alert except Derek. "Wait! It's okay. It Erica."

Everyone looked at him like, 'Who's Erica.' except Stiles.

A bombshell blonde walked out followed by a tall quiet black man.

She stepped right up to Stiles and looked scrutinizing. "So this is him?" She looked unsure. "He's so skinny. And nerdy. He doesn't look like he can handle you. He looks like you could eat him alive."

Stiles expertly, and impressively twirled his bat then rested it on his shoulder with a lecherous smile. "Believe me, he already has. Multiple times."

Her face lit up. "Ooo Derek, I like this one! Let's keep him!"

Derek turned to Stiles. "I will buy everyone as much pie as they want. As long as you promise not to be friends with her."

Stiles put a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes lovingly. "Derek, I love pie. I would do anything for pie. But if you think for one second we aren't going to make your life a living hell, you've got another thing coming."

Erica laughed and Stiles linked arms with her leaving Derek behind.

Scott gave him a pitying look. "He's just like that, no he will not apologize at any point. Get used to it, or get gone."

The fierce protectiveness reminded him of Laura, but not the alpha in her, the sister.

He nodded. "I'm acclimating fast."

Scott nodded and his normal puppish look was back.

Allison wrapped Scott's arm around her neck and spoke to him as she passed almost as an after thought, "Hurt him and I know the best wolfsbane to make you die the slowest and most painful."

Lydia just gave him a look that was somehow more terrifying that facing down fifty alphas that wanted his head. She hmphed and left.

Lizard man was next. "I hate Stilinski. But if I have to deal with his bitchin and crying I'll paralyze you and by the time I wrap my tail around your throat, you'll be begging me to kill you."

By far none of those comments prepared him for the last one. Especially not coming from a man he respected so much. The sheriff clapped him around the shoulders. "He is my world and the only thing I have left of her that means a damn. If you hurt him, know that you'll hurt five people irreparably. One, him. Two, yourself. Three, me. And son you don't want to cross a man who knows the law. We know how to break it, and get away with it."

Derek swallowed. There was nothing quite like a significant other's parent terrorizing you. "And the other two people sir?"

"It would be awful for your sisters to have to lose one of the only remaining family members they have left. Hurt my boy and I'll put you in a hole God herself couldn't find. And they will never know what happened to you." The sheriff smiled. He walked off.

Derek had never known terror until that moment. His future father-in-law was insane. His boyfriend's friends were insane. He remembered all of what just happened and freaked out.

Fuck. His boyfriend was insane!

---

They rode separately, but as soon as they got there they all squished into the biggest setup the diner had. They all ordered food and ate like they were starved. Everyone was laughing and getting along just as much as they bickered. Erica and Jackson instantly mixed like oil and water, but Boyd and Lydia were deep in conversation. Derek could tell this would work, could feel it.

His eyes were glassy and he felt someone squeeze his hand. He looked down and then over at Stiles. He squeezed his hand back.

Stiles looked happy. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just, thank you."

Stiles tilted his head. "For what?"

Derek leaned over to kiss his forehead and then brought his knuckles to his lips. "For showing me, that homes shouldn't be taken. They should be shared."

Stiles grinned at him and then leaned his head on Derek's shoulder as he finished both of their curly fries.

The terror was worth it. Everything was worth it when it came to Stiles.

The sheriff gave him a soft smile. He leaned over to clap Derek's shoulder. "Welcome to the family son." His attention quickly wandered again.

Derek looked down to a beaming Stiles. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I think I'm just realizing the possibility of something wasn't as dead to me as I thought." Derek smiled with shiny eyes.

Stiles leaned up for a kiss. It was too much grin and a weird angle, but Derek swore it was the best kiss that had ever happened. Stiles pulled back with a fond look. "Welcome home."

Derek ended up paying for everybody's pie.

[thejolexgroupchat]

One multi-fic, following these prompts: #26. “I’ll sleep under the sheets, you sleep on top of them.” to #27. “Trust me, I have no interest in sleeping with you.” to #28. “This is a one time thing.” to #29. “Okay, so maybe it’s a two time thing.” onto #30. “This needs to stop.” - (I know these prompts are usually used to one-shots but I cannot help but see all them working together in one fic!

Did we go overboard writing this? Maybe. 

Is it still a kickass piece? Of course. 

I have to say I really love how we all came together for this one! This takes place right after Bailey’s wedding, when Alex and Jo crash in that random hotel room.

This piece was written by @iamtrebleclefstories @choosingmywife and @doc-pickles Enjoy! ~ NP

the one with the midnight pizza

"Do you think he's gonna come back?" A heavily inebriated Jo asked with wide eyes.

"Nah," replied an equally drunk Alex.

"But all his stuff is in here," Jo pointed out. "He's gotta come back for his stuff."

"Oh crap," Alex began laughing. "We need to get out of here."

"We can't drive. We're drunk," Jo shook her head, a laugh escaping as she fell back onto the bed. “Oh shit, what are we gonna do?”

“Grab some bottles from the mini bar and then we’ll find a cab back to my place,” Alex looked up at Jo, whose face was twisted into a disgusted expression. “Don’t get any ideas, I have no interest in sleeping with you Hobo Jo. I just don’t want you to go home alone and choke on your own vomit or something.”

Jo gathered the bottles and stuffed them into an empty pillowcase (like a hobo, just needs a stick). She searched around for her purse and shoes, only to see Alex holding them up, "You looking for these?"

"Thanks," she grinned as she caught them. "Don't forget your tie! It's hanging on the bathroom door."

Jo and Alex giggled quietly as they opened the door and looked around to ensure that the coast was clear. They ran down the hallway, boarding the elevator as they collapsed in a fit of even more giggles. It took him a second, but Alex was finally able to calm his laughter enough to call for a cab. When they exited the elevator, Jo and Alex ran past the front desk quickly, hoping to avoid anyone that might’ve seen them earlier. 

“You’re gonna get us into trouble if you keep laughing like that,” Alex pointed his finger accusingly at Jo, laughter still bubbling from his own mouth. “And I’m not gonna fake cry my way outta this one.”

Jo took a deep calming breath and attempted to act natural as they walked through the lobby and out the doors into the cold December air. They waited outside, shivering in the cold for the cab that was on its way. Jo was trembling in her strapless dress and wished she would’ve brought the robe with her. Alex may have the reputation of being a jackass, but part of him felt bad for the intern standing next to him. She was actually a lot of fun to hang around, so for that reason, he decided to be nice. He removed his suit jacket and placed it on her shoulders.

Jo raised her eyebrows in surprise. Alex rolled his eyes, “Don’t make it a thing.”

Jo shrugged and relished in the warmth of his jacket. She thought about the events that led up to that moment and couldn’t help herself when she began to chuckle again. The situation was absolutely ridiculous. She had spent the night drinking with her boss, getting drunk off her ass, teaching him how to fake cry, hijacked a stranger’s hotel room, and now was on her way back to his house because she was way too drunk to get back home on her own. It sounded like the start of a bad rom-com and Jo’s inebriated brain conjured many images that caused her laugh harder. 

Hearing Jo laugh was not an easy thing. Jo’s laughter was contagious. And maybe part of it was due to the fact that he was drunk, but Alex was sure that even sober, he wouldn’t be able to resist joining her. It had been ages since he had laughed so hard he cried and Alex knew instantly that the woman standing next to him was someone he’d definitely like to keep around. 

The cab finally arrived and Alex helped Jo into the backseat as he gave the driver his address. The drive was full of jokes and unintelligible speech that Alex was positive had the driver on the verge of throwing them out the car. When the driver pulled up to the house, Alex had sobered up enough to think to give the cab driver a nice tip for putting up with their craziness. 

“I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in like… decades,” a string of giggles left Jo again as she leaned against the side of the house, waiting for Alex to unlock the front door. “I think I did a full 20 minute ab workout routine.”

“Lucky for you no one else is home to hear your absurdly loud laughter,” Alex pushed the door open and ushered Jo through, his hand gently resting on her lower back. “Come on Princess, let’s go upstairs.”

“You’re just trying to get me into bed aren’t you,” Jo narrowed her eyes at Alex, who rolled his eyes. “It’s not gonna wo- Oh!”

Before she’d had a chance to protest, Alex had thrown Jo over his shoulder and began to walk up the staircase towards his bedroom. Jo let a squeal out, voicing her displeasure with her situation, “This doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with you!”

“Then get your hand off my ass,” Alex retorted, fingers squeezing Jo’s thigh as he swung her back over his shoulder and settled her onto his bed. “I’ll grab you a change of clothes, I’m sure when you inevitably puke you won’t want it on your nice dress.” 

Jo bit her lip as she watched him search his dresser for some clothes for her to change into. For the first time, she actually understood the obsession that all of the girls in her class seemed to have with Karev. He was smooth, funny as hell, and actually kind of charming if he tried. Jo averted her eyes when he turned back to look at her in hopes that he wouldn’t catch her admiring him.

“Were you staring at my ass?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

“What? No,” Jo scoffed. “I was not staring at your ass.”

“Yes you were,” Alex’s face donned a shit eating grin. “First you grab my ass, now you’re staring. For someone who claims that they don’t want to sleep with me, you’re doing a very bad job at making me believe it.”

“I wasn’t staring… I’m drunk and I zoned out. That’s all,” Jo attempted to make up a plausible excuse. 

“Sure, whatever you say princess,” Alex shook his head and tossed Jo an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers. “Put these on. I’ll be in the bathroom, try not to break anything while I’m gone.”

She stood in his bedroom for about three minutes attempting to get her dress off, when she finally gave up. Jo walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, “I need help.”

Alex poked his head out the bathroom, “What? Why are you still dressed?”

“I can’t get the zipper down,” Jo frowned. 

Alex huffed a laugh as he opened the door all the way, “Turn around.”

Jo did as she was told and tried desperately not to think about the fact that he was standing behind her only in a pair of boxers as his fingers grazed her back. The breath hitched in her throat and she willed her heart to slow down as she felt him open the zipper slowly. 

As soon as she stepped out of her dress she realized that heart flutter was actually bile climbing up her esophagus. Clad only in her panties, she shoved Alex out of the way and sprinted to the toilet barely making it before all the most recent contents of her stomach reappear. She jumped when she felt a hand on her back as Alex gathered her hair to keep it out of the line of fire. Once he’s braided it and twisted it into a knot to stay up, he grabbed a wet washcloth and draped it on her neck while delicately rubbing up and down her spine. 

Though mortified, Jo felt exponentially better and the heavy fog from her brain lifted just enough to savor Alex’s gentle touch. While waiting to determine if a second wave of nausea is en route she slows her breathing, head and arms draped on the toilet seat.

“This is embarrassing,” Jo groaned. “I just vomited all over my boss’ bathroom in my underwear.”

“Dude, don’t worry about it Wilson. This isn’t even the weirdest thing I’ve had happen with a girl in my bathroom,” Alex rubbed her back.

“Why am I not surprised,” Jo muttered. “Were you their boss though??” She counters and then added, “and now that you’ve seen me puke, probably best to just call me Jo.”

“Stop thinking of me as your boss then,” Alex offered. “Just think of me as Alex. Trust me it’s easier. I used to live with Shepherd and the amount of times he and I found ourselves in awkward situations was insane. Outside the hospital, he was Derek, not my boss. Same goes here.”

He left her side again only to return with the t-shirt he had given her earlier and some water. “Arms up!” 

“Alex, I’m not a toddler, I can dress myself!” 

“Jo, you couldn’t even undress yourself. Now put your arms up and let’s rinse out that puky mouth of yours.” 

Grumbling, Jo raised her hands in surrender while Alex pulled the shirt on while his fingers skimmed her torso. She immediately got goosebumps but didn’t have time to dwell on the tingly feeling. As soon as the oversized Iowa wrestling shirt had covered her mostly naked self, he wrapped his arms under her armpits to lift her up from the cool tile bathroom floor. Steadily they made it to the sink where he had a cap of mouthwash waiting for her. Alex started brushing his own teeth, never breaking eye contact with Jo in the mirror, worried she’s about to collapse or vomit again. Once she swished for the recommended 30 seconds, she spat and blew minty breath into his face. For reasons Jo can’t gather, he didn’t seem to be that amused but whatever this night can’t get any weirder. She picked up the water glass from the floor and made her wobbly way over to his bed. 

The date with the porcelain throne left Jo significantly more awake and coherent, or so she thought. Gathering herself and her water she stood up from his bed to go downstairs to pass out on what she hopes is a very comfortable couch in his den. Though she’s not sure she saw any furniture when they made their way upstairs earlier… Guess she’ll find out soon. She made it three steps towards the door before a wave of dizziness smacked her in the face. Frustrated, she mused that maybe sleeping here was the wisest decision. She was just being practical, not wanting to hurt herself or anyone else by falling down the stairs. Also, he said to call him Alex. If this were any other guy friend she wouldn’t think twice about it. Resolute in her choice she clambered over to the other side of Alex’s bed, lifted the comforter, and slid all the way under as the overhead light was suddenly way too bright.

Alex walked back in and seeing her braided bun peeking out from the blanket he started mumbling and grabbing his pillow and Advil from his nightstand.

Hearing the commotion, Jo flips back the duvet and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Getting my crap to sleep since you claimed the bed, Princess,” he said rolling his eyes at the obvious and handing her three pills. 

“Don’t be a weirdo,” she scoffed, “your bed is so huge we can both sleep in it without ever coming close to touching.”

Considering the argument for a moment and the fact that the only other option is the floor, Alex drops his pillows and sighs, “Fine. I’ll sleep under the sheets, you sleep on top of them.”

“Already there, Mister. You think I want to rub up against whatever you have lurking in your bed linens?” 

“Yeah yeah, just take one Advil now and put the other two on your nightstand for the morning. If you need more, it’s on my side, just try not to puke on me if you grab it in the middle of the night. I’ve got some pedialyte in the fridge if you need it, just don’t drink it all”

“You’re a regular Prince Charming, Dr. Karev.” Jo said, swallowing all three pills and shimmying back under the covers. “Mm your bed is comfy, I might stay here awhile.”

“Don’t even think about it, I enjoy sleeping alone and sprawling out,” Alex looked over his shoulder, eyeing Jo as she nestled herself further into the blankets. For some strange reason, seeing her lying down next to him wasn’t strange. It felt natural, as though they’d slept beside each other for years. He tried to ignore the feeling and turned so that his back was facing her. 

After some time, Alex could feel her breathing even out, signaling that she was asleep. Finally, he allowed himself to relax. Ever since he’d lied down, his mind began racing with countless scenarios of what life would be like if he got to go to sleep and wake up with the woman beside him every morning. The thoughts almost made him want to join Jo in puking. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t soft or hopeful. He didn’t daydream about a life with someone who made him laugh until he cried. No, he needed to get over whatever the hell this was. He thought about those things for a bit longer before drifting off to sleep. 

A few hours later, Alex felt someone poke him in the side. He swat the offending hand away as he turned in his sleep. The prodding got more insistent, and he groaned as his brain began to register that someone was trying to get his attention.

“Psst,” the poking continued. “Hey, Alex.”

“What?” Alex finally opened his eyes to see Jo staring back at him. “Leave me alone. I’m sleeping here.”

“I just need your address. I’m ordering pizza and I need to tell the guy where to deliver it,” Jo explained.

Alex turned over to look at the clock on his nightstand, “Jo, it is one in the morning.”

“And?” Jo raised her eyebrows. “I’m hungry. We were so busy getting drunk at the wedding that we didn’t really eat anything.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Alex grumbled. “Give me the phone.”

He listed off his address to the delivery person in the other line and was told that it would arrive in ten minutes. Alex sighed and rubbed the sleep out of his face, “How are you awake right now? You were completely wasted.”

“I think the Advil and puking helped,” Jo confessed. 

“You’re a mess,” Alex shook his head. 

“You think this is bad? Should’ve seen me in med school,” Jo wriggled her eyebrows.

“Yes of course. Hobo Jo who is still learning how to be civilized,” Alex teased. 

“You’re one to talk,” Jo stuck her tongue out at him. “Might I remind you that you were the one who suggested the hotel room idea. Also, you’re like what, seven years older than me? Shouldn’t you be past this stuff?”

“That’s... a fair point,” Alex flopped back onto his pillow, closing his eyes as he attempted to fall back asleep. “How good do you think a pizza place is that's open 24/7? That can’t be that great…” 

“Are you kidding? Those are the best ones. They are greasy and great for hangovers. Late night taco places are really great too,” Jo grinned.

“As long as you’re paying, I’ll eat whatever.”

Minutes later, the doorbell rang. Jo searched around for her purse only to sway when she tried to get up and walk to the hallway. Realizing that she would probably hurt herself trying to make her way down the stairs, Alex sighed, “Sit down. I’ll go get the pizza. Just give me your wallet.”

Part of Jo wanted to protest, but realistically, she knew that there was no way she’d be able to make it down the steps and back up again without falling. Although she was not nearly as drunk as she had been when they first arrived, Jo was still tipsy enough to be off balance. She handed her wallet over to Alex and sat back down on his bed, waiting for him to bring the pizza up. 

“You know, this actually smells pretty good. Not gonna lie.What kind did you order? ” Alex commented as she walked back in the room with the pizza in hand. He opened the box and nodded his head in approval. “Ooh, stuffed crust meat lovers. Good choice.” 

He sat down on the bed and Jo reached over to grab a slice. Biting into the pizza, Jo moaned, “Wow this is incredible. Best decision I’ve ever made while drunk.”

Alex wasn’t sure if it was the leftover alcohol in his system, but something about seeing Jo getting pizza crumbs all over his bed sheets made his heart skip a few beats. He stared at her for a while, taking in her form. It was like he was seeing her in a new light. She was no longer the intern who had a crappy childhood just like him. She was Jo. He was finally seeing her for who she was and she intrigued him. She was beautiful; messy hair and pizza hanging out of her mouth. 

“What?”

Jo’s voice startled Alex out of his daze, eyes blinking as he tried to focus on anything that wasn’t the woman sitting in his bed. He grabbed a piece of pizza and took a bite, shaking his head in Jo’s direction as he spoke through his full mouth, “Nothing.”

“Ugh close your mouth,” Jo groaned as she finished off the piece in her hand. 

They ate the entire pizza and discarded the box on the floor. The food had helped absorb some of the alcohol still in their stomachs and by the time they were done eating, they both felt significantly less drunk. So, there was really no way they could blame the following events on alcohol. 

“Well now I’m much less drunk than earlier and I am absolutely wide awake,” Jo fell dramatically back into the pillows, turning her eyes to him. Her eyelashes batted against her cheeks and Alex could feel his heart constricting oddly in his chest. “What is with that look? You keep staring at me like you’re going to do something stupid.”

“What if I did? Do something stupid I mean,” Alex could hear the change in his voice as he speaks, his heart hammering in his chest as he locked eyes with Jo. 

“Like what? How stupid are we talking here,” Jo’s own heart was beating erratically as she watched Alex with curiosity. His eyes were darker and she couldn’t help but focus on the way his lips pressed together. 

“Like this,” Alex’s lips were on Jo’s in a flash, her fingers instantly came up to run through his hair as she gasped in shock. They stood  like this for a minute more before Jo pulled back and met Alex’s intense gaze. 

“You and me… we work so good as friends and I don’t wanna screw that up but… God I want you right now, so badly,” Jo’s tongue darted out to wet her lips and it was all Alex could do not to press his lips back against hers. “I’ve wanted you all damn night but this… this is a one time thing. Can’t happen again, got it?”

“Got it,” Alex affirmed and bent back down to kiss her again. 

Jo had no idea how much time had passed, but no matter how much her lungs were screaming for air, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Eventually, their kisses became more heated and Alex began to trail his lips down her neck. Jo gasped as he found a spot that she hadn’t even known existed. In those few moments just kissing him, Jo felt more pleasure than ever before. She knew she wouldn’t last long if he kept going like this. 

Jo pushed Alex onto his back and straddled his waist, leaning back down to kiss him again. She felt his hands grip her hips tightly, encouraging her to grind against him. Suddenly, Alex sat up, allowing Jo to wrap her legs around him. She felt his hands wander up her—his—shirt and fiddle with her bra straps. Jo reached down and removed the shirt, leaving her in the fancy bra and panties she’d worn under her evening gown. In that moment, Jo was extremely glad she had chosen to wear a nice set. Alex let his eyes wander and felt himself grow consumed by desire. He bent his head forward and began to press kisses all over Jo’s chest. His lips traced the straps of her bra and he reached behind to unclasp it. 

Letting the bra fall, Jo suddenly began to feel self-conscious. This was Alex Karev. He was known for having been with countless women. Gorgeous women. Although she’d long since gotten over the majority of her physical insecurities, there was still a small part of her that was worried that she wouldn’t be enough. That her body wouldn’t compare to the rest of the women who’d found themselves in this same exact position. 

She was about to cover her breasts with her arms when she heard Alex take a sharp inhale. He gently took them into his hands and began to press light kisses all over them, leaving her panting and breathless. It was insane just how aroused she felt. It was as though every nerve in her body was on fire. Jo’s hands found their way to Alex’s hair and pressed him closer to her. 

“I’m not going to last much longer with the way you’re using your hands,” Jo’s voice grew breathy, to the point she could barely recognize it as she let her eyes close in pleasure. 

“It’s okay, I’m planning on keeping you here for awhile,” Alex’s lips trailed up and sucked right below her ear, eliciting a low moan from her. “Especially if this is the only time I get to have you in my bed.”

It’s not even a week later that Jo found herself pinned against the wall of an on call room with Alex’s lips on hers again, his hands doing wondrous things to her as she bit back moan after moan. They’d had a long day, they’d lost one too many patients, they’d been yelled at by angry relatives… those were the excuses that Jo was conjuring up in her head to explain the reason she found herself in this position again, despite insisting that what had happened after Bailey’s wedding was a one time thing. 

“Two times.” Alex’s head lifted up from her neck, brows furrowed as he looked into her eyes, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Maybe, it’s a two time thing,” Jo answered breathlessly, trying to distract herself from Alex’s hand that was still lingering on her chest. “After this… no more.”

Alex nodded in understanding, his lips crashing back onto hers as his hands desperately pulled her scrub top away from her body. For how much she said she didn’t want this, Jo couldn’t deny that Alex made her feel more alive than anyone else she’d been with. 

“Oh! Right there,” Jo bit her lip as Alex’s lips trailed down her body. She could feel the smirk he wore pressed against her hot skin. “Don’t get cocky about it.”

“I don’t have to get cocky. I’m that good,” Alex’s smirk grew as he pushed Jo onto a bed. He helped take her pants off and slid her to the edge as he fell to his knees. He looked up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You might want to hold onto something, Princess.” 

Two months and seventeen hookups later—not that she’s been counting—Jo figured that her resolve was shot. She couldn’t explain how or why but her heart picked up its pace every time that Alex was near her now. She’d found herself sitting at Joe’s with Steph and Shane that night, minding her own business when she had felt his eyes on her. Even across the room, her heart began to beat faster with just the knowledge that he was so close. She’d hastily made an excuse to her friends and bolted out the door of the bar before anyone could protest.

That had been 20 minutes ago, she was now pressed into Alex’s mattress with both of their shirts strewn across the staircase, abandoned in their hurry to get upstairs and into bed together. Jo was trying to distract herself from the thoughts swirling in her head, but it was useless. She couldn’t keep doing this because it was going to ruin her from the inside out. Everytime Alex’s lips met her skin or their eyes met or their bodies moved in sync she had to stop herself from crying out her feelings, crying out how much she loved the man she’d fallen into this routine with.

“Stop,” Jo tried to get the word out, but it came out breathy and quiet. Louder this time, she moved her palms to push against Alex’s shoulders. “Stop, stop! I can’t!”

Alex pulled back quickly, eyes following Jo as she pushed him away and leapt out of his bed. He ran a hand through his hair and took a steadying breath before speaking, “What? Did I do something wrong? You usually like when I—”

“No no, this needs to stop! We can’t keep doing this, Alex. I can’t keep doing this,” Jo paced back and forth across the room.

“Jo calm down. Why are you freaking out all of a sudden?” Alex stood and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to stop pacing. “Look at me. What’s going on here? Because I thought we were good.”

“We aren’t good,” Jo shook her head and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I let this happen. I’m so stupid. I became another one of the stupid naked girls in your bed. This needs to stop because I don’t think I can handle it when this ends.”

“Why is this ending?” Alex asked, as if she hadn’t heard him the first time he asked. 

“Because I have feelings!” Jo shouted, glassy eyes taking in Alex’s shocked face. “I have feelings! Way too many feelings. Dangerous feelings that just might destroy everything I’ve tried to build for myself here. I know to you, I’m just another one of the girls dumb enough to jump into bed with you, but I got attached. I have to end this, because eventually, you’ll get bored and find someone better. One day, you’ll find someone so much better than me and then it’ll be too late for me to pick up the pieces.”

Alex stood there stunned for a few moments. His jaw had dropped and his eyes were wide. He had no idea that Jo felt this way. For months, he’d been trying to deny the fact that he had fallen in love with her because he didn’t want to lose this. He must’ve taken too long thinking about all the words he could say to her because she ripped herself from his grasp.

“God, I’m an idiot. I knew I would mess it up. I mess everything good in my life up. We work really well as friends, and I had to go and ruin it,” Jo let out a defeated sigh, tears in her eyes. “I’m just gonna go. I’m sorry.”

Jo was already halfway out the door, when she heard Alex call behind her, “Jo! Wait!”

She cringed as she turned around to face him, “Don't do this. Don’t say that we can still be friends and we can forget about this, because I can’t forget. I won’t forget.”

“That’s not what I was gonna say,” Alex shook his head. He took a deep breath and grabbed Jo’s hand, pulling her back into the room. He closed the door and looked deeply into her eyes. “You didn’t mess it up. You could never mess it up. You said you have feelings and so do I. You might be too afraid to say them out loud, but I’m... saying them.”

Alex opened and closed his mouth dumbly. Jo stared at him with wide eyes, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Shut up,” Alex rolled his eyes. 

“Okay but...” 

Alex narrowed his eyes, “I’m serious.”

“Fine,” Jo conceded. 

“I love you,” Alex stated. “I’ve loved you ever since that first night when you woke me up because you were hungry, so we ordered pizza and you got the crumbs all over my bed sheets.”

Jo felt like the wind had been knocked out of her chest, “You—what? You love me? You love me?”

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. He sighed and put his hands on either side of her face. “I love you, Jo.”

“Woah,” Jo croaked, eyes looking at him in disbelief.

Alex’s face twitched into his signature crooked grin, “Yeah.”

Jo’s eyes flicked between his eyes and lips and before she knew it, she was being pulled into a breathtaking kiss. Her heart pounded as she allowed herself to get lost in the sensation. They’d kissed countless times before, Alex’s lips on her was not a new sensation, but this kiss was different. Jo could feel the emotion behind it, could feel the truth behind Alex’s words as they kissed each other with a hunger that hadn’t been there before. 

Jo pulled back from Alex, eyes taking in his face and the look in his eyes. She’d seen it before, when he’d meet her gaze while they laid in bed together. She hadn’t been able to tell before, but the look was full of love, that same pesky emotion she’d been trying to push away all day, “I love you too, for the record.”

Alex smirked, hands sliding up Jo’s still bare chest as he pressed a kiss to her neck, “Does that mean we can get back to what we were doing now?”

A string of laughter escaped Jo as she dragged Alex back to bed, chastising him for his one track mind as they fell into the routine they’d become so accustomed to. 

[stusbunker]

What Lingers Within: Seven

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Past Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Written for: @thisismysecrethappyplace

Prompt: Amnesia

Word Count: ~4700

Beta’d by the amazing @itmighthavebeenintentional​

Aesthetic by @thoughtslikeaminefield​

A/N: Set in season 11. Flashbacks are still in italics. Blood and gore, show level violence.

Series Masterlist

^*^*^*^

    Every time Dean got the phone call, it hurt. It wasn’t just the leaving, but the wanting to go that ate at him. It was still one of his jobs, and he wasn’t ashamed of it, but leaving her to do it kept getting harder. He tried not to take it out on Bobby, but so was the curse of the messenger. Since Sam was gone, it just hadn’t been the same.

    He scribbled the details down as he listened, giving single syllable responses until Bobby was out of intel. He thanked Bobby and said he would keep him posted. She wouldn’t be back from work for another hour. He could make his plans, chart his course and drag his heels so he could say goodbye to her face. Or he could get on the road and figure it out on the way, leaving the worry-masked reassurance in her eyes for another hunt. 

When had he become such a coward?

    Dean tore a layer off the notepad by the phone, giving her the what and the where. He promised to call her when he stopped for the night. He didn’t bother to sign it. Once he was out the door, the wet spring air filled him with earthy possibility. It was good to be on the move, to go through the motions, the thrill of the hunt beckoning. Dean almost felt good about the case, just like he almost forgot he had someone waiting for him to get home.   

^*^*^

    Sam must have won because you ended up in Kansas afterall. While you crawled out of their Chevy and into a massive underground garage fitted with some of the oldest cars and motorcycles you had ever seen in person, you didn’t know what came next. Suddenly, hit with the alienness of your surroundings you held your breath, and hoped the blind trust you had in Dean and his brother was enough. That leaving with them had been the right choice.

    Sam gave you a half smile and tossed your bag over his shoulder.

    “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

    You felt Dean watching you with Sam and you couldn’t help but glance back; the furrow in his brow could have been from annoyance but it felt more like a question. A silent check in.

    “Yeah, okay, thanks,” you answered Sam before you took a deep breath through your nose and nodded, hoping you weren’t intruding.

    The bunker was unlike any place else, part boarding school and part fall out shelter. The size was overwhelming, but the design uniform enough not to be too disorienting. By the time Sam showed you the kitchen Dean was already cooking dinner. Forearms bared and towel over his shoulder he looked completely at ease. The sight of him washed over you, excitement and relief warming you from the outside in. You had no reason for the emotional shift, and yet it felt good, right.

    “That smells amazing,” you croaked out, following Sam down the short set of steps.

    Dean leaned over the pot to take a whiff. “Yeah, well, it’s just chilli. Can’t screw that up too much. Got a few before it’s done. You get a room yet?”

    “Yeah, Sam put me in number 15, I think it was?” You looked to Sam for clarification.

    “13,” Sam corrected, which earned him a side eye from Dean.

    “Alright, well, go get cleaned up. Just gotta put on the finishing touches.” Dean grabbed bowls off the shelf and you took the hint that he had something to say to Sam. Sam was clearly amused, but he just shrugged off your concern. Cautiously, you turned to climb back out of the room.

    A faint ‘really, Sam?!’ reached you down the hall.

^*^*^

    You had stuffed yourself on chilli and crackers, having forgotten how long it had been since the burgers at the seedy motel. Dinner wasn’t exactly awkward, but you felt out of place in the conversation which included searching for cases and touching base with other hunters. You tried not to ask too many questions, but if someone were to show up, you wanted to have an idea of who they were to Sam and Dean.

    You laid staring at the blank wall, desperate for a show to distract you. The sheets were an old starched cotton, but they were clean. You weren’t falling asleep. It had very little to do with the fact that less than 36 hours before you had suffocated your boss in an abandoned subway service tunnel, and very much to do with the fact that Dean Winchester had entered your life and promptly saved it. Twice.

    Once you understood what was the matter, you were suddenly knocking on Dean’s bedroom door. Which, thanks to Sam, was the one next to yours. 

    He didn’t answer.

    Just as the impulsivity drained away, leaving you alone in the cold hallway standing in your comfiest pajamas that weren’t really pajamas, the door opened.

    “Everything alright?” Dean asked, headphones tucked around his neck.

    Shit. You gaped at his bright eyes, unable to answer him and wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

    “I, uh, I don’t know why I bothered you. I’ma go back to bed,” you sputtered. But then he touched you, deft and warm, his palm dragged from the ball of your shoulder to just above your elbow.

    “It’s okay. I don’t really sleep after the rough ones either,” Dean murmured, voice soft but deep. You hadn’t realized you had closed your eyes until he leaned closer, the heat of his body melting your bubble until you forgot what personal space meant. “Come on in.”

    You felt his hand fall away like a severed lifeline.

    You looked around Dean’s room as he wrapped up the impractically long audio cable and put the headphones away. It was almost regimentally clean, but the personal touches made it far more welcoming than your room. Even if most of the decorations were weapons.

    “What were you listening to?” You tried for small talk.

    “Jethro Tull.” He gave you a nearly bashful smile. Thick as a Brick was one of your favorite albums. 

    His room was definitely warmer than yours was.

    “Is it weird that that makes me happy?” You asked as you plopped into his desk chair.

    “Not at all,” Dean reassured before he sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You wanna talk about it?”

    He really was that kind. In your experience, guys that looked like Dean were only nice for as long as it was absolutely necessary, but he was the real deal.

    “Do you?” You countered, watching as he licked his lips and cocked his head waiting for your explanation. “What if the reason I can’t sleep isn’t guilt or paranoia or --- I don’t know--- trauma?”

    “Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason, you know. But something’s on your mind, so spill.” Dean sat up, face insistent, but not angry. Guarded and waiting. You thought about curling up in his lap and letting him play with your hair, longed to burrow your face in his neck and breathe him in. The thought froze and wedged itself inside your ribcage; terrifying because you were bold enough to attempt it. You needed only the slightest push.

    “Tell me about how we met, the first time.” Your words made you both blanch, but once they were out, they felt like the best thing you had said all day. “Please?”

    Dean looked at you like you were asking for a kidney, and he was considering doing it without anesthesia. 

    He stood up suddenly and pushed up the sleeves on his thermal. “Okay, yeah. That’s fair.”

    He walked to his dresser and dragged open the top drawer while you waited for him to continue. He pulled out a handful of old photos and sat back on the bed. He started leafing through them until he found the one he was looking for, he flicked it around in his fingers toward you like he was handing out a business card.

    “That one’s gotta be the earliest picture of us I’ve got. I ran into you after a quick salt-and-burn, Sam had ditched me for this, well, evil skank and I was feeling sorry for myself and pisssed at him and the only thing that kept me from starting a bar fight that night was the way you were eying me. Like I was some puzzle and not a loose canon. Anyway, this was taken about a month later. I weaseled my way back to town and somehow convinced you to grab a cup of coffee after your shift.”

    You looked down at the photo, the booth was covered in cut out construction paper hearts. Your hair was longer and you looked like a deer in headlights in the photo, but what made you do a double take was the way Dean was grinning. You couldn’t believe how young you both seemed.

    “Like an idiot, I had forgotten it was the weekend after Valentines, but the lady who ran the diner insisted on taking pictures of each of the couples that came in,” Dean explained.

    The flash had muddled the fluorescents, but you had known those old metal rimmed tables and maroon vinyl booths anywhere. “This looks like the inside of Ma’s Table,” you whispered.

    “Yeah, we were like the last people to show up before closing, but they took care of us.” Dean searched your face.

    “What?”

     He gave you a sad smile. “I guess I was hoping something would click and I’d get you back. Like if I hit the right memory, all of yours would suddenly resurface or something.”

    You felt a shiver run down your back. You forced yourself to swallow. He wanted you back. “Sorry.”

    “Nah, don’t worry about it. I mean, it’s my fault anyhow.” Dean cleared his throat and looked back to the stack of pictures in his hands, avoiding eye contact as you both composed yourselves.

   Then you did something very stupid. You took two crouching steps over to the bed to settle yourself beside him, and looked over his shoulder at the next photo. “You could still keep telling me about them. Can’t hurt, right?”

    Dean hummed, not in disagreement, but at your poor choice of words.

   “Sam took this one at Bobby’s. Bobby, uh, was like a second dad to us. Lived up in Sioux Falls,” 

   “Like Jody?”

   “Like Jody, yeah, uh, she’s the sheriff and he was supposedly the town drunk,” Dean chuckled. “Best person to go to for intel, one of those tough as steel, but soft on the inside type guys.”

   “Hmmm, sounds like someone else I know,” you purred, before plucking the creased photograph out of Dean’s grasp. Dean was hauling you around a junkyard on piggyback. You couldn’t remember doing that since you were a kid. By the look on your face in the photograph you were either terrified or shocked by it, Sam had snapped the shot at just the right moment. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

   “Oh my god, what were you thinking?!” You reprimanded.

   “I was giving you the tour, but you were SO TIRED from the trip up there you didn’t want to walk,” Dean sassed back.

    “Okay, that sounds like me,” you admitted.

    “Uh-huh,” Dean huffed. “You know I can’t stop thinking about before. Not just the times I have pictures of, but how much you helped me. Sam was gone, for awhile, everyone thought he was dead and, uh, you helped me pull my head out of the bottle. You were so good for me.”

     As much as his honesty dripped through your resolve like honey, it left a nasty after taste.

    “But not good enough to keep around?” You didn’t try to hold back.

    “It wasn’t like that. I, uh, I left before the thing with the demons and Cas wiping you.” Dean turned to face you, dragging one knee onto the bed that brushed your hip before he buried his stocking foot under his other leg. “We had already broken up.”

   “What happened?” You asked, surprised, without any judgement.

   “I’m the job, Y/N. I am not built for stability or a cookie cutter happily-ever-after. Sam came back from the dead wrong, long story, and I used him as an excuse. But honestly, I had already started checking out. I was using hunts like a junky uses drugs. Hiding from you because I knew there was more wrong with me and I didn’t want to bring that home to you.”

    You hugged your knees, body completely on his bed, and let that revelation settle into what you knew about Dean and the timeline of your relationship. “But then why was I still on some demons’ radar?”

    Dean sighed and rubbed his temple. “Because I kept tabs on you. I checked in, every so often, just make sure you were safe.”

    “You watched me?” You balked. “You know that sounds really fucked up, right?”

    “Yeah, well, I’m paranoid, so sue me. You do this long enough and you will be too.” Dean deflected.

     You let that hang in the air. He hunched back over the remaining pictures, hands tense and shoulders tight. You didn’t want to fight, you just wanted answers. “Kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy then? You were worried about me, so you came back, and the demons found out you did and only then they attacked.”

     Dean pursed his lips, ruefully. “Sounds about right.”

     “But you were able to stop them,” you offered.

     “Yeah, after you almost killed Sam,” Dean corrected.

     “You still saved me.” You looked down at your hands. “That’s like three times, just that I know about. I’d say I owe you.”

     “Honey, you don’t owe me shit,” Dean cupped your cheek, drawing your gaze to his. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you saved me from myself. We ain't even, but you're not the one in the red, you hear?”

      You reached up and held his hand to your face, soaking in the steady strength of his palm.

      “Is that why you’re letting me stay here?” You held your breath.

       Dean looked away and whispered, “You know why we brought you home.” Then he pulled his hand back to grip the edge of the mattress.

      “Because I’m a fugitive?” You broke the tension with ease, letting your legs fall into lotus pose. “You usually consort with wanted criminals?”

       Dean shook his head and smirked. “Kind of par for the course. All our friends are either cops or criminals, and I’m usually playing cop.”

       “Probably not the best time to make a handcuff joke, but I so want to!” You laughed.

      “Oh, I bet you do,” Dean sighed and scratched the side of his head with his free hand.  “Here, you can have these to look at, maybe something will click for you. But I’d like them back, when you’re done.”

      You gently added the pictures to the two already in your hand. “Thanks.”

      It felt like the time to go back to your room; looking over Dean’s memories without any recollection or context would possibly be harder for him to watch than it was for you to decipher.

     You unfurled yourself from Dean’s bed and made your way to the door. Dean met you halfway, showing you out. Just as you had stepped into the hall, he had more to say.

      “Look, I know when I talked about taking you to Jody’s, that wasn’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat, but I am glad you’re here.”

     You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks for having me.”

     “See you in the morning, Y/N.” Dean sent you off with a little salute.

      Luckily, you remembered there was most of a six pack left from dinner. You quietly helped yourself to the remainders before settling into the lonely bed in the appallingly generic room once more. You rifled through the pictures, determined to find something you could recall. Something significant enough to make everything spill out of the recesses of your mind.

     But nothing changed, it was obviously you in each one, with Dean at your side in most of them. You were happy, of course you were, no one takes pictures of arguments or tears. But more so, you were happy together. 

     It was surreal seeing the span of the relationship in the half dozen pictures; understanding time’s progress by the small nuances of split lips or hair cuts or changing seasons. There was one taken in the apartment Dean had mentioned you shared, you had broken your leg and presumably Dean had taken the picture of you from the cast up. 

    Then you came to the last photo, one with Sam and Dean wedging you between them. You were laughing, but also making the most obvious goo goo eyes at Dean. You wondered who snapped the picture of you all on the trunk of the impala. You still owned the boots you had been wearing.

     Eventually, your eyes zeroed in on the shirt Dean wore beneath his jacket, the same two toned flannel that you were wearing as a pajama top. The one that you always wore when you sought comfort, the one that was so ratty you should have thrown out ages ago. The one you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of. 

    You gulped down the rest of your beer before setting the pictures onto the desk. You might not have any memories of Dean, but something inside of you certainly had held onto feelings for him. Feelings you didn’t know how to process anymore. With a heavy sigh you let yourself try and sleep them off.

^*^*^

    Her smile turned into a snarl as it made her slam the knife into Sam’s gut, black eyes never leaving Dean’s face, drinking in his agony.

    Dean’s voice cracked, but he kept reciting the exorcism, plowing through it even though he was frozen in place by the demon’s mental strength. It laughed, ruthless and ragged, almost a bark as she started to cough it up. 

    “Oh, Dean,” it tutted. “Too little too late.” 

    Then it turned the knife on her.

    Time stopped, but Dean only hesitated for a moment, long enough for the blade to pierce right below her collar bone. Without even realizing he had been released, Dean lurched forward, final words shouted with all the fury and fear he had in him.

    She fell to the ground before he could catch her, blood soaking through her shirt. He snatched the knife from her hand to try and temper the bleeding. Dean carefully wiggled them over to Sam, and as he held both of their wounds closed, he prayed for a miracle.

    Dean knew the feel of blood as well as he knew the wear of the leather of Baby’s interior; opposite poles of familiarity. He was caked in the life that drained away from those he loved, and yet he could only see his own failure. He wouldn’t let go, he couldn’t, but he needed help and if the angel couldn’t answer him, maybe something more mundane could.

    He closed his eyes and removed his hand from her shoulder, whispering his apologies as he searched for his phone. Her name was both a plea and a reminder, the hope and the loss oozing from him as thickly as the blood filled Sam’s belly.

    Dean’s fingerprints smeared against the numbers, but then a deep voice stopped him middial.

    “Dean? What happened?” Cas materialized before Dean hit send.

^*^*^

    You slept through lunch, starting your first full day in the Wincehsters’ home groggy but steady on your feet. You told yourself that you had been reading too much into the feelings Dean’s memories had elicited. You were just empathetic and probably emotionally strung out over the whirlwind of the past couple weeks. You clearly couldn’t be in love with the man. No matter how kind, or handsome he was. He was essentially an acquaintance, no longer a stranger, but not yet a friend. 

    A savior, not the solution.

    You found both Dean and Sam in the library, feet up and heads down, like a pair of flannel clad bookends. It was quite the picture, two well built guys studiously pouring through books for their next case. It made sense, but it also was such a specific level of hot that you definitely had to swallow before you could make your presence known.

    “Hey, sorry, I guess I needed sleep more than I thought,” you offered, shrugging as you approached the massive table that had been covered with materials and laptops.

    “Don’t sweat it,” Dean replied. “You eat? There’s some leftover chili, but we just had sandwiches for lunch. If you want, I can fry you up a grilled cheese?”

    “Nah, it’s fine, I’ll make myself a sandwich. Thanks.” You brushed off Dean’s enthusiasm.

     After preparing it, you trudged back to the library, plate in one hand, and a strong cup of tea in the other. You pulled a chair up to the clearest side of their work space and set up camp.

     “What are you looking for?” You asked honestly, head tilted as you eyed the gold foiled title of the book in Sam’s hand.

      “Uh, we’re looking into an entity known as the Darkness. It was originally locked away by God before the Earth was created, but it's now loose. So, we’re looking for weaknesses or ways to trap it again,” Sam explained tentatively.

      “You’re trying to do something that God did originally?” You clarified.

      “What Sam isn’t saying is that, we let her out. So, it’s on us to put her back,” Dean broke in.

      “Her?” You felt suddenly out of your depth.

      “Yeah, she’s actually God’s sister. Kind of a light and dark thing, we think,” Sam continued. “She goes by Amara.”

      You didn’t miss the cringe that Dean tried to hide at the name, which meant that Sam definitely caught it as well.

      After a few minutes of heavy silence you couldn’t help but ask, “How would one manage to let out an ancient dark power?”

     “Very stupidly.” Dean sighed, not looking up from his book. 

     You finished your food and started to idly peruse the books stacked between you and Sam. You tried not to smile when you caught one of the brothers’ now familiar silent conversations. You didn’t have anywhere else to be, the least you could do was try and give them a little help in return. If they had a problem with it, they’d have to actually say it out loud.

     They didn’t stop you.

     A day turned into three, which became a full week of navigating their process for research, which started after Sam’s morning runs and ebbed off before Dean’s afternoon tinkering. You added yourself into their unofficial cooking rotation, not exactly acing their gas range, but managing to feel like you were close to earning your keep.

     Dean always offered to do the dishes on your cooking nights.

     You stayed back to help dry, preferring to work beside him, even in near silence, than retreat to your room early. Sam had found you an old laptop to stream on, so you had something to distract you from the barren walls and the slowly increasing nightmares. But that night the next season could wait, especially when there was Old Spice and the grounding grumble of Dean’s voice.

    “Hey now, you with me?” Dean asked, waving his sudsy hand in front of your unfocused stare.

     Your face burned, but you managed to smile through it. “Yup,” popping the ‘p’. 

     “You know you haven’t said anything about the pictures since your first night here,” Dean tried to be casual about bringing it up.

      “Yeah, I guess I was waiting to see if anything came back,” you admitted.

      “And?”

       You turned to face Dean, his hands gripping the edge of the sink, leaning down so he was at your height. He knew by the apologetic look on your face and you could see his disappointment before he could fully retreat from the vulnerability.

       “How’d I break my leg?” You took a plate from the rack, spinning it carefully in the towel as you waited for him to let you back in.

       “You know I’m not exactly sure, you never gave up the whole story,” Dean licked his lips and shook his head. “I came back from a hunt and you were hobbling around with only one crutch. Somehow managed to get yourself to the hospital and home, even though I know they don’t let you drive with a cast. I think you were trying to either hang up new curtain rods or you fell up the back steps bringing them home. Because they were left in the trash, still in the plastic. But you insisted you ditched the old curtains to let in all the natural light you could.”

       By the end of the story you were both giggling. It nearly made sense and yet it was so funny to hear how he figured it out despite your stubborn pride keeping you from admitting you had hurt yourself doing something stupid. Or presumably stupid.

      “That’s why you took the shame photo? Because you needed physical proof I am a spaz?” You teased.

      “Honey, I don’t need proof, we both know you are alive by sheer dumb luck at this point,” Dean taunted back.

       You held up your towel in mock surrender. “Touche, but also? Too soon.”

       “Oh come on, I wasn’t even talking about that!” Dean huffed in exasperation. You defiantly jutted out your chin, and snapped your hand closed like a mouth shutting. He rolled his eyes, before he suddenly splashed you with a gush of dirty dishwater. You squealed and swatted blindly at him.

        Dean caught you at your waist, tugging the towel from your hand so he could wipe your face clean. You slowly stopped struggling in his hold, relaxing against his firm chest before you opened your eyes to see him looking back at you with nothing short of adoration.

       Oh god, what were you doing?

       You stood there, in Dean’s arms, for mere moments, but they felt like a lifetime. A lifetime where you had never been stripped of your past and he had never had to choose your life over his happiness. A lifetime you wanted desperately to relive.

       “Sorry.” Dean released you. “I got the rest, you can hit the shower, don’t want you to catch cold.” He motioned to your half soaked tee and you nodded, rubbing your upper arm as if the suggestion of a drop in temperature had given you goosebumps and not the separation from his warm embrace.  

       “Backing out when you started it, real smooth,” you threw at him, walking backwards out of the kitchen. 

       Dean sighed and snipped back, “Would you watch where you’re walking, please?! I don’t want to have to drag your ass to the infirmary already.”

      You couldn’t help but smirk, with your tongue firmly planted in your cheek, as you spun expertly on the ball of your foot before heading up the steps.

      The smug high from your banter melted away with the pelting shower, the reality that you were needlessly toying with a man’s emotions sank into your every pore. You were not the woman he remembered, and you still didn’t completely know who Dean Winchester was or had become in the meantime. You needed to cool it. 

     An hour later, you restarted the same episode for the third time, because you could not focus on the new character’s introduction long enough to figure out why they were relevant. Couldn’t your mind just shut up?!

     You don’t know where it came from, but slowly you realized you were speaking aloud, not to yourself, but to the angel you had yet to officially meet. You were praying, each word ripping something inside of you the moment it left your lips.

     “Please let me remember him. Let me be who he needs me to be. Let him see me as I am and not only who he lost. Castiel, if you can’t fix my memories, then even the score, take me from his. Give me even footing or let him have a fresh start, too. Please, help me. Help us?”

^*^*^

Series tags: @tiggytaylor​ @vicmc624​ @kalesrebellion​

General SPN tags: @flamencodiva​ @dolphincliffs​ @dontshootmespence​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @foxyjwls007​ @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler​ @ericaprice2008​ @princessofthefandomrealm​ @wingedcatninja​

^*^*^

Read on: Chapter Eight

[hermannsthumb]

Hot tub sex??? *eye emoji*

scientists in a hot tub……what will they repress……..

18+/not safe for work below cut!!!!!

————————————-

Hermann is no stranger to shoddy motel rooms at this point in his career–indeed, on the shoestring PPDC budget, it’s more or less all he and Newton can afford when they’re shuttled out for conferences–but there’s a certain veneer to the crumbling Art Deco design and dusty plastic palm trees of this one that’s left him feeling strangely unsettled. It’s as if they’ve stepped into the past. As if the very motel is frozen in time. 

“Stop being so dramatic,” Newton says. “It’s just a stupid gimmick. Hold this, will you?”

He shoves his duffel bag at Hermann and (ignoring Hermann’s indignant hm!) continues, unsuccessfully, to cram a keycard into their door lock. “It’s upside down,” Hermann finally says.

“No it’s not,” Newton says.

“Yes it is,” Hermann says. “Flip it.”

“It’s not upside down,” Newton says.

“Flip the bloody card, Newton.”

Newton flips the keycard. The lock lights up green with a click. “Huh,” he says.

Their room is small, a bit cramped, even, with two twin beds (mercifully, they won’t have to share again, not like they did last time) draped in pink bedspreads, two nightstands, a beaten-up wooden wardrobe, and a single desk jammed in the corner. The pseudo-vintage wallpaper matches that of the hallways and lobby; the carpet, meanwhile, is too faded to make out what the pattern was once meant to be. “How terribly charming,” Hermann remarks, sarcastically. 

“I call bed next to the window,” Newton says, pushing past him to claim it.

Hermann busies himself with unpacking his belongings from his small carry-on suitcase as Newton takes stock of the room: poking around in the nightstand drawers, flicking through the wrinkled Gideons Bibles, fluffing his pillow, sniffing skeptically at the bars of soap resting atop their pillows. Hermann’s nearly finished settling in when Newton–flinging the door to their in-suite bathroom open–startles him with a sharp crow of surprise.

“Holy shit,” he says. “Take a look at that!”

Hermann sets down his last sweater on the bedspread, not bothering to look up. He can’t quite say he fancies finding out what kind of horror awaits them in there. “Roach infestation?” he sighs. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“It’s a fucking hot tub, dude.”

Hermann does look up at that. “Hot tub?” he echoes sharply.

Newton pushes the door open wider. Sure enough, around his shoulder, Hermann can make out pink tile and the deepest, most elaborate bathtub he’s ever seen, complete with its own set of stairs. “There are jets,” Newton says. He lunges for a bottle on the edge of the tub and waves it excitedly. “Look, they gave us bubble stuff, too!”

“Oh,” Hermann says, not quite able to cover up his delight. There are very few things Hermann loathes more than flying: the cramped confines, even with disability accommodation, which leave his leg stiff and him tense and irritable–the fine layer of grime he’s certain sticks to him afterwards–how wretchedly exhausted he is when the whole affair is finally over. He can, frankly, think of nothing he’d like quite more at the moment than stripping down and getting into a hot soak in that tub. However filthy it may be. (And Hermann expects it’s quite filthy.)

He steps up behind Newton for a closer inspection. Pink. Dingy, but less so with grime, more so from age. Curved seats. Enough jets to already make Hermann feel woozy. Newton turns and shoots him a grin. “How many people do you think have screwed in there?” he says.

“Ugh.” Hermann winces.

“I’m serious,” Newton says. “It’s at least a dozen.” He nudges the faucet with the toe of his boot and laughs. “God, it’s so fucking sleazy. Why the fuck did they put this in here?”

“Perhaps the staff anticipated overstressed travelers would appreciate the opportunity to relax,” Hermann sniffs.

“Or perhaps,” (Newton says this in a crude mockery of his accent,) “the staff thought people like us might want a little extra bang for our buck, if you catch my drift.” He waggles his eyebrows.

People like him and Newton. Unable to help himself, and feeling suddenly rather flustered, Hermann blushes. “You’re so crude.”

“Maybe you just have a stick up your ass,” Newton says. He shuts the door. “Anyway, I’m gonna get a burger from the place next door. Do you want something?”

Hermann chooses not to remind Newton that he is a vegetarian. He’ll presumably remember it at some point on the walk to the restaurant–it’s rather a poignant thing to forget about one’s self. “No, thank you,” he says, and then, after reconsidering, because he is hungry, “Actually–yes. A sandwich. You know the sort I like–something with turkey. Or cucumber.”

“It’s a hamburger place,” Newton says, as if Hermann is a particularly dull toddler. 

“Surely they don’t only sell hamburgers,” Hermann says.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Newton says. He scoops up the keycard from where he tossed it on the dresser, pats his pocket for his wallet, and nods at Hermann. “I’ll be back in twenty. Don’t have any wild hot tub sex without me.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause.

“That’s not,” Newton says. “Uh. See you.”

Newton’s not been gone five minutes when Hermann finally caves in and starts the tap for the hot tub. The water comes out hot–nicely hot–and the jets–oh, the jets--Hermann is suddenly frightfully glad he allowed Newton to talk him into packing swimming trunks in the event they’re able to make it out to the beach before the weekend is up. Though tub is just as much a bathtub as a jacuzzi, it still feels strange to enter it nude. Especially after Newton’s lewd comments.

The tub takes the better part of Newton’s promised twenty minutes to fill, and it’s still not quite finished when Hermann–now stripped down to nothing but his bland pair of navy-blue swimming trunks–grips the metal bars at the stairs and eases his aching, tense body into the steaming water. He tilts his head back against the pink tile; he groans, a little louder than he means to. The relief is quite instant.

Perhaps a bit embarrassingly, his prick begins to stiffen.

It’s automatic, of course. Pavlovian by nature. He’s not at all thinking of Newton’s implication that people like them have appropriated the hot tub for other purposes, nor of his slip-up right before he left to get them dinner. It’s only that Hermann prefers to reserve certain personal activities for when he’s in the bath. He’s more relaxed–the undercurrent of pain in his leg less distracting, and indeed, even nonexistent. Anyway, it’s not as if he’s about to start pleasuring himself here, in a bloody hot tub, where Newton could walk in and find him at any moment…

(A small, warm twinge in the pit of his stomach; Hermann parts his thighs just a bit wider, only to make himself comfortable, of course.)

Then there’s a small click in the main room: the door lock. “They literally only had hamburgers, dude, like I said,” Newton is saying. “So I got you–Hermann?”

“In here,” Hermann calls back lazily.

Newton practically kicks the bathroom door down, glaring ferociously, greasy takeaway bags cradled in one arm. “You asshole,” he says. “You’re using it without me!”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean,” Hermann says.

Newton sets the bag down on the sink counter and kicks off his boots. Then he begins to strip out of his t-shirt. Then his jeans. Hermann sits up in alarm. “No, no,” he says. “What are you–?”

“I’m getting in, that’s what I’m doing,” Newton huffs.

“No you are not.”

“I am,” Newton says. He reaches for the waistband of his purple boxers.

“No,” Hermann says, a little louder, and then begins to splutter indignantly when Newton ignores him and slips those off too. “You brought–we have swimming trunks. Why are you–?”

“You’ve seen me naked before,” Newton says with a shrug. The motion, full-bodied, causes certain elements of his anatomy to move. Certain elements of Hermann’s anatomy begin to move, too, in response, but for an entirely different reason. “It doesn’t have to be weird.”

This is true; Newton’s had enough lab accidents in their career which require use of the emergency decontamination shower that, hypothetically, Hermann should know his body like his own at this point. This does not make it any less alarming. Or any less exciting. Newton’s sturdy bare legs, verging on too-hairy, small scars on both his knees from what Hermann knows to be a rollerblading accident when he was twelve; Newton’s tattooed arms, muscled just enough from the demands of his lab work; Newton’s tattooed chest, his rosy pink nipples; Newton’s pudgy stomach, his love handles; between Newton’s soft thighs, his perfectly sized–well–

Hermann forces himself to tear his eyes away as Newton climbs in across from him. They’re so close their knees knock together. “Wow,” Newton says, and wolf-whistles. “This is awesome.”

“Mm,” Hermann says. 

He chances a small glance over. Newton has slipped off his fogged-up glasses; his body is a colorful blur beneath the bubbling surface of the water, but his chest, and his chest piece, are on full display, and his head is titled back in such a way that his soft throat is bared in a way that Hermann might call sensual. How terribly lovely he is. How terribly light-headed Hermann feels from the hot water–surely it’s why, not even bothering to pretend he’s not ogling Newton, he blurts out “What a marvelous tattoo that is.”

Newton furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“Your tattoo,” Hermann says, and–for some reason–reaches out and grazes his hand down Newton’s sternum. He hears–no, feels–Newton’s breath catch in his throat. “It’s very interesting. I’ve never seen it properly before.”

Newton laughs nervously. “Oh,” he says. “I thought you hated my tattoos.”

“Of course I don’t,” Hermann says, and he’s surprised to find he means it. “I can’t say I approve of the subject material, but one would be a fool to deny their artistic value.” Hardly believing his own daring, he settles two fingers on Newton’s left pectoral, just above his nipple, and traces the edges of the great green kaiju’s head. “Was it terribly painful?”

“Nn,” Newton squeaks.

“Hm?” Hermann says. 

“No,” Newton says. He sounds breathless. “Hey, uh, you almost done–” The edge of Hermann’s thumb accidentally grazes his nipple, and Newton squeaks again, the rest of the sentence coming out in a high-pitched wheeze, “–uh, feeling me up?”

Mortified, and finally realizing exactly what it is he’s doing, Hermann snatches his hand away. “Ah–Newton–” he stammers, ears going hot, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Newton chooses precisely the wrong moment to glance down. Difficult though it is to make out definite shapes through the water, there is no denying that Hermann’s swimming trunks are quite tented. Newton’s eyes widen. “Hermann?”

“Oh, hell,” Hermann says. He buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Newton, I didn’t mean–”

There are strong, calloused fingers on his wrists, prying his hands away, and Hermann opens his eyes to see Newton’s face above his, Newton kneeling in the vee of his legs. His breath is warm, and smells like the bottle of soda he bought at a vending machine in the airport. “I’m gonna kiss you,” he declares.

Hermann blinks.

Newton’s tongue–pink–darts out to wet his lower lip–pinker. He presses his mouth–soft–to Hermann’s. For a minute, they move awkwardly, chastely, against one another, stiffly, even, and then Newton gives a tentative swipe with his tongue at the seam of Hermann’s lips.

The floodgates of desire open within Hermann all at once. A filthy moan rises in the back of his throat; he seizes Newton’s shoulders, drawing him forward, closer, until their chests are flush together; his mouth parts open eagerly for Newton, and he draws Newton’s tongue forward with his own. “Newton,” he breathes out. Newton tastes like the soda, too–sugary, too-sweet. “Oh, Newton–”

Impatient, over-excited, Newton shoves his hand gracelessly down Hermann’s trunks and wraps around his prick. “Fuck,” he pulls away from their kiss to whine, “were you jerking off before I got here? That’s so fucking hot. God. What were you thinking about? Were you thinking about me?”

Hermann had not been jerking off, but if Newton’s libido will be stoked to greater heights with a little bit of flattery, he can’t see how a small lie could do any harm. “I was,” he says.

Newton begins to slide his hand up and down Hermann’s prick. He’s very skilled at it. The other hand, he settles at the back of Hermann’s neck. “Fuck. Were you thinking about doing me in here? Over the side? Or me doing you?”

“Er,” Hermann wheezes out. “Yes?”

Clearly pleased, Newton begins to wank him faster. “Guh,” he says. “Touch my chest again, that was so hot. Please, please–”

Hermann obliges gladly. He splays his hands over Newton’s pectorals, squeezing, and–once he realizes how terribly sensitive Newton’s nipples are, because twice now Hermann’s only grazed one and produced a full-body shiver in the man–focuses his onslaught on those instead. With every small pinch, Newton cries out. When Hermann lowers his head to take one in his mouth, Newton straddles his right thigh and begins humping his hard prick against it in earnest.

“That’s so debase,” Hermann pants into his chest, blushing. “Really, Newton, you ought to just let me use my hand.”

“Guh,” Newton whines again. “No, no, I want you to touch me instead.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” Newton says. “Anywhere, anywhere…”

His hand is flying over Hermann so fast it’s difficult to think, let alone to consciously grope and explore Newton’s body, but–resuming variably grazing his teeth and flicking his tongue over Newton’s nipples–Hermann obliges again, dragging his nails down Newton’s sturdy back, digging his fingers into the soft skin of Newton’s backside and kneading at him gently. Newton’s movements against his thigh turn graceless, and Hermann is excited to feel small slide of sticky precome on his skin before the churning water quickly washes it away.

“I’m gonna come,” Newton pants. His head is tossed back in wild abandon, the image of hedonistic pleasure. It’s a wonder he can even still formulate whole sentences: Hermann imagines if he were as overstimulated as Newton obviously is, he’d black out. The simple handjob is almost too much to bear. “Yeah, I’m gonna come, are you–?”

“Kiss me, and I will,” Hermann says.

Newton stoops down, mashing their mouths together happily, and light fizzles behind Hermann’s eyelids as he spills over Newton’s hand. Newton gives a few more needy thrusts against his thigh; his cry echoes off the bathroom walls, and Hermann feels more sticky warmth on his skin. He slumps on top of Hermann when he’s finished. He’s shaking.

Hermann pats his back. “Well done,” he says, weakly, and Newton giggles just as weakly. He could go for a nap, he thinks. Preferably with Newton curled up next to him. The twin bed will be a tight fit, but they’ll manage.

[valiantthewriter]

Us and We

This is a direct sequel to Anything and Everything. You’ll want to make sure to read that first for this to make better sense. Both can be found on AO3 

CW: Angst, Infidelity, Time Skips, Mentions of sex.

"Keep your secrets and I'll keep mine."

Why did it have to be a secret at all?

----

He swore he would never tell. He meant it then and he still meant it now.

----

"Harry, let it be. I already told you there is no one else."

"You're right, Peter. I'm sorry. I'm just...please say you're telling the truth."

Peter sighed.

"Of course, Harry. I would never. You know that, right?"

Liar.

----

All it took was one look into the crowd and Peter was naturally drawn to Tony. This was his wedding day; why was he here? Peter's heart beat wildly in his chest, a little caged dove beating at the bars of his ribs.

Not again. Please, not again.

----

"You're such an ass, Tony."

"Better play nice, Osborn , or I'll wreck yours. You wouldn't want your husband finding you all wet and loose on your wedding night."

"Where do you get off being the one that's angry?"

"Be quiet and let me suck you off, baby. After that, you can get back to your little wedding."

Peter was a horrible person. He was in a janitorial closet with the man who tore his heart about to get head from that very man that was not his husband at his own wedding. He was going to hell.

But seeing Tony like this? Remembering the touches, the whisper of gossamer curtains dancing in the wind, Miami?

"Fuck! Just like that."

----

Peter arrived at work after the honeymoon to a desk covered in white paper chains and dollar store decorations. There was a beautiful bouquet in the middle with calla lilies, his favorite flower. A card was attached to the vase, so Peter grabbed it and stroked the gold etching on the front. This was so ostentatious that it had to be Harry.

He was wrong.

How could I not?

"Welcome back!"

Peter jumped at the greeting to the amusement of his coworkers.

"Oh! Are these from Harry? I need a husband, too."

"Yeah...husbands are great."

As his heartbeat slowed, his knees became weak.

How could he not? How could he not?

How could he?

----

They met for coffee in Queens, a place where they were less likely to be found by Harry, Pepper, or the paparazzi. It was a rundown coffee shop that was grimy but served excellent scones. This was Peter's kind of place. The money and expensive things were fun and all, but this was Peter, a boy from Queens that grew up with nothing. Well...he had something, once. At least he thought he did.

"I'm happy you came," the man in front of Peter said, shaking him from his faraway thoughts. One look at those dark eyes and he was gone again, the little caged bird in him released into the wild.

"I don't know why I did."

Honesty was good. Yes, very good.

Tony took a deep breath, his expression betraying how he was calculating what he wanted to say next. No speech this time. Just Tony.

"I -"

"How's Pepper doing?" Peter interjected. It was better this way, reminding Tony he had a wife. That they were both married and what happened in that closet was wrong. Everything was wrong.

Tony sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Baby, do you wanna play the game you're playing or do you wanna talk?"

"Since when am I your 'baby'? I don't think I ever was. You never...you never…"

"Pete, please -"

"No, I'm talking. Everything was fine, Tony. I was...I was fine. And then suddenly you waltz in and everything I built goes away…"

Tony reached out for Peter's hands, grasping them and bringing them to his lips, a kiss for each knuckle.

"Pete, I can't stop myself. I'll only go away if you send me away."

"Leave. I want you to go now."

Liar.

----

"This way, Daddy," Peter whispered, leading Tony to the bed by his tie.

He didn't even bother looking at the flowers nor the champagne. He didn't look at the exquisite decor in the room. He didn't take in anything that wasn't Tony, his olive skin, his graying hair, the way he smiled.

Peter honed in on the older man as he always did. It always came to this.

"Lay back, sweetheart. You know I got you."

Liar.

----

"Hey, Pete?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Who's 'T'?"

Peter's heart dropped to his stomach. How much of the conversation did he delete? He remembered the words, the pictures, the -

"They said that they need you for a work meeting."

"Oh yeah. I'll meet them later."

Harry walked up behind Peter, kissing his neck. It felt off, no beard tickling him, no words turning his blood into molten gold.

----

Peter couldn't stop. Someone cut the brake line.

----

He had a dream where he looked into a crystal ball and saw three doves: one for love, one for hope, one for joy. He fed the doves and then a vulture came and ate them all up.

All that was left were feathers. A shadow. A fortune that would come to pass.

----

"What did you tell Harry?"

"I said that I would be going to stay with Aunt Jean in Miami."

"Well, Aunt Jean is very happy you were able to fly down."

Peter swallowed his guilt along with Tony's cum.

----

Shame on you. Shame on me.

----

Do all roads lead to this? Peter twisted around Tony, orbiting the man down to his essence?

Do all roads lead to guilt? To shame? To hating the fact that he wasn't waking up with the one he wanted each day?

All roads to all places led him back here.

----

"I love Miami."

"Why?"

Peter was confused.

"It makes me think of you."

----

There are no happy endings.

----

"Happy Anniversary, darling. Don't hate me, but I have an emergency meeting in Tokyo. I'll have to be gone for a week or so."

Harry truly looked upset, near tears even. Peter felt horrible. His first thought was wondering when he could bring Tony over.

----

He is still a good person. He can be redeemed. There is a way out.

----

"Tony…"

We need to stop. This is hurting people. We can't do this anymore. Please, stop.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Um...pass the bread."

----

Peter lies to himself all the time.

----

Sometimes, Peter thinks back to the days before things started, back when he was sixteen and hungry for something he didn't know the name of. When he thinks of it, the ache comes back and his ribs rattle.

He would give anything and everything to have that back.

----

"Come over. Harry's gonna be gone for a week and I want you to stay with me for a couple of days."

----

They play house and it's fun. They eat waffles and Tony is wearing pajama bottoms and Peter is in Tony's shirt.

They have sex on the couch. On the kitchen counter. On the dresser.

In his marriage bed.

----

Could it be like this one day? Can any road lead to bliss?

Roads to Rome. Roads to madness.

----

They are sitting in the bath together, Peter's back to Tony's chest, and Tony is humming a tune into Peter's hair.

"Take me to Rome one day."

"Anything and everything, sweetheart. You name it."

Peter holds his breath and Tony's hand. He wants to believe those promises.

----

The headboard was banging into the wall with the force of Tony's thrusts. Peter digs his heels into the small of Tony's back, urging him to go harder.

"Just like that...oh my god, please!"

"You wait for Daddy, baby. Hold it a little bit longer. You can do it."

Peter sobs, clawing at Tony's back.

Suddenly, there are footsteps echoing down the hall.

"What the fuck is this?"

----

Three dead doves. One for love, one for hope, and one for joy. The carcasses lay at Peter's feet and the vulture eats their remains.

----

He got a paper cut on the divorce decree.

----

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Pete?"

"Do you love me?"

"How could I not?"

"No, say it. Do you love me?"

Tony stiffens, his expression twists like he might cry.

"Yes, baby. Yes."

Tears begin to stream from Peter's eyes. A little dove came flying back into Peter's chest.

"Will you be with me now?"

Tony curls in on himself.

"Pete...if it is about money, I'll pay for whatever you need or want."

"No, baby...not the money."

You and me. Us and we.

"Pete…"

"I need an answer, Tony. A real one. Please, will you be with me?"

----

His new beginning looked like this:

Peter looks into a puddle of water next to the wet bench he is sitting on in Central Park. He is crying and it is raining and all he could hear is Tony's voice over and over. All he could hear is how Tony sent him away, for good.

"Hey, man. You good?"

Peter looks up and this man looks like he could be a second chance at happiness.

"Yeah...uh. I'm Peter Parker."

"Hi, Peter. I'm Harry."

----

"Peter."

"Tony."

They smile at each other as they lay intertwined in bed. Like tangled yarn. Like roots of a tree.

----

"I want to be with you, Peter."

Little dove hope.

"You need to know I really do."

Little dove joy.

"Then do it. Please. Be with me. Choose me like I chose you."

"Pepper is pregnant."

----

The crystal ball is cackling and crackling. Prophecy fulfilled.

----

Peter giggles, kicking out as Tony tickles his feet.

"Knock it off, Daddy."

"Alright, alright."

Tony presses a kiss to the arch on Peter's foot, beard tickling him a little more. Those tickles turn to tingles which turn into delicious torment as Tony works his way up.

"God, I love Miami."

----

Peter feels like he was slapped in the face.

"And...what about us?"

Tony rubbed his eyes to try to keep the tears from coming out.

"I don't know, Pete. Baby, I don't know."

Shock turns to rage.

"You need to know. I want you. I want to be with you. Give me an answer."

----

Empires fall when love is not discrete.

----

Peter flipped a coin. Heads for do it and tails for don't.

Tails.

What do stupid coins know?

----

"It's complicated."

"Not this shit again. Pick me or her. Pick."

"Peter…"

"You said you love me. It could be Us. It could be We. Every day could be perfect because we would have each other."

Tony sniffles and rubs at his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"No."

"I should leave."

"NO!"

----

Icarus got too close to the sun. Peter gets it.

----

"I'll take anything and everything you'll give me. Please, don't go."

His everything became Tony again. Once more, this man rooted himself into Peter's very being and nothing would ever be the same.

"Sweetheart, do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes."

----

Crying during sex is rather cathartic.

----

Morgan is a beautiful name for a beautiful baby.

----

"Tony."

"Peter."

"I like Rome."

The road is twisted and treacherous. The road isn't meant to be followed.

----

Three doves: one gray, one limping, one dead.

The vulture made a nest.

----

He will keep it a secret. It's just like old times, like all times. Ever and ever and ever.

[itsthejuggernautbitch]

You Look Like Trouble (Morning Glory Wine - Cable/OC

Here’s chapter eight!

Issa lot of booty.

(And as always, not to be that person but if you’ve got the time and the inclination, kudos or a comment would be greatly appreciated.)

Taglist: @this-that-and-every-thing-else  @ptite-shit  @lesbianyondu @chromecutie  @gallifreyangrandtorino  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @akihecko @bigstarlightkingdom  @buckyjefferson  @lenavonschweetz

Four a.m. was an early night for both Vivian and Cable. Vivian rarely got in from Sister Margaret's before 2AM and sometimes ended up closing the bar with Weasel at 6AM, depending on the clientele that night. Vivian was exhausted after an already-long night of stitching up criminals and snuggling with a mercenary she’d almost kicked out of her backroom office before said snuggling occurred, but she didn’t feel like sleeping. She’d slept on the ride home, but with Cable now standing in her kitchen, she was more than wide awake.

Vivian figured that she had to be crazy to have invited him in. She had to have lost it, she decided. Both she and Cable had dark circles under their eyes and the night wasn’t even finished. She’d never invited a guy in after a fight, not even Jack when they'd still been married. And certainly not in the last five years (to be fair, she hadn’t been near anyone in the last five years, but that was beside the point). It was just him. Cable and his stubborn gruffness, his deep voice, those muscles - and the compassion that he did his best to keep hidden.

Everything about him was strange and out of place in her cozy little apartment. The mechanical arm and eye, the obviously anachronistic weapons hanging off his hip, even the obligatory tight-shirt-and-cargo-pants mercenary uniform. His rugged appearance was resolutely different from her sensible little kitchen, but as soon as he dropped the weapons and sat down at her kitchen table, it became strange to think that he’d never been there before.

Well, she certainly wasn’t going to kick him out, that’s for sure. Yeah, they still had shit to work through - a lot of it. But this was cozy, comforting. As if they’d known each other for years. As if this was no different than every other Saturday night. And it scared the hell out of both of them.

“Coffee?” Vivian asked, fishing out a new coffee filter for the machine and two mugs. “I’ve got decaf too if you don’t want a case of the jitters..”

“Full strength will do just fine, please and thank you,” Cable replied, elbows on the table. He watched her fuss with the coffeemaker, almost smiling behind his hands. He’d seen her fuss over people before, himself and Wade in particular, and her fussing over the coffeemaker wasn’t so different from that. “Not a fan of decaf.”

“My kind of man,” Vivian replied, pausing when she realized what she said. “Well, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“This would be an awkward predicament if I wasn’t.”

“I certainly wouldn’t be making you coffee at four a.m. if you weren’t.”

Vivian poured two mugs of coffee, handed him one, and sat down at the table. She knew she looked a mess - the dark circles (and darkening further) that never seemed to go away; long, dark hair pulled up in a high bun; old jeans and a t-shirt. Not that it mattered much at four a.m. what state of disarray she might be in, especially when Cable looked at her like that anyway. She felt prickly, anxious, like she was being poked with needles. It was probably because the extent of her physical contact with anyone in the past five-ish years had been Wade’s hugs. It couldn’t be that Cable looked fucking delicious even after a long-ass day of no-telling what he did during the day.

She took a sip of coffee and found the taste of that particular sip to be the best thing she’d ever put in her mouth. It was a welcome rush of heat after a long, long day. And she would probably enjoy it even more, but the problem was she couldn’t quite sit still.

“Are you hungry?” Vivian asked, leaving her coffee on the table and jumping up to open the fridge. She pulled out everything that looked kind of good - mostly just a loaf of bread and some peanut butter for sandwiches. She liked to cook, but she didn’t have time. And why she was pulling out food, she couldn’t say, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to do.

Cable smiled around the rim of his mug, taking a sip of his coffee. “Viv.”

“What?” she asked, halfway through pulling plates out of her cabinet.

“You nervous?” he asked gently, still smiling. She’d never seen him smile this much, not since she’d met him. It was a good look on him, soft against the otherwise rugged aesthetic.

“No, no, I just…” she realized that she was, in fact, fidgeting like a madwoman. “I’m the one who invited you in. I’m too fucking old to be nervous about…”

Cable lifted an eyebrow, sitting his mug down. “No, you’re not too old to be nervous. I’m nervous too, if it makes you feel better.”

"You don't show it."

"I've had a lot of practice hiding it.”

Well, if macho man can be nervous and admit to it, she supposed she could give him the same courtesy. Vivian pulled the plates down and closed the cabinet with a sigh. “I guess I am, too. It just feels… It’s strange to go from feeling like a sad teenager after a bad fight to… maybe having something after nothing at all for so long.”

“No stranger than falling for someone after losing your entire family.”

Vivian sighed. “Look, if I pushed this too far too soon -”

Cable stood up, making his way over to her. He tugged the plates out of her hand gently and put them down on the table. “Listen to me, Vivian. I want to be here. I wouldn’t have come in if I didn’t.”

“Especially not at 4AM.”

“Especially not at 4AM."

With that, Vivian reached up, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. This kiss wasn't like the first one they’d shared weeks ago - that one had been all closeness and heat and intimacy. This kiss was ravenous, hungry and a little desperate. Cable kissed back with just enough force to drive her back against the kitchen counter, bracing his palms against the marble countertop on either side of her.

The world was, at that moment, reduced to its barest form: Cable's mouth on hers, hard body pressing her back against the kitchen counter, and his insufferable inability to figure out what to do with his hands. Words were a silly idea, a logical fallacy of the highest order. And if her brain hadn't gone a little fuzzy, she'd be annoyed that she was still in the kitchen (trying to avoid getting smushed against the food sitting out) and not being fucked stupid into her own cozy mattress. No, in that moment she was really only annoyed that Cable still had clothes on.

After a few gasping breaths, Cable pulled back away from her. "I'm fine with doing this in the kitchen, but…"

"I think we're gonna need a bed if you let me do what I've got in mind," Vivian interjected, hands still cupping his face. His eyes were dark, and she could just barely see the glimmer of red behind his left eye.

He licked his lips, tongue gently poking out past his teeth. "I'm all yours, darlin’. Whatever you've got in mind."

Vivian wrapped his arms around his neck. "First room on the left down the hall."

Cable slid his arms underneath her ass and picked her up. "Yes, ma'am."

Cable must have had a little super-strength mixed in with his list of abilities because he didn’t stumble even once under their combined weight. He didn’t quite make it to the bedroom before Cable pressed her up against the wall, lips and teeth sucking at the hollow of her throat.

Vivian couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of his face. She pressed her palms to his cheeks so that she could draw him in for another kiss, unwilling to let him go long enough to let him take her the final three steps past the bedroom door.

“Wait just a second,” Cable gasped, pulling away just long enough hoist her up higher. "Let me adjust..."

“What’re you telling me to wait for?” Vivian asked, hooking a finger under his chin. “You’re the one who stopped at the door.”

Cable grinned, adjusted his grip on Vivian’s waist, and shoved open the bedroom door.

Vivian’s room was smartly furnished, if a little minimalist. There was a dresser shoved into one corner and a desk in the other. Not that it mattered - the only important bit of furniture in the room at that moment was the bed pushed against the back wall.

Cable collapsed on the bed, bringing Vivian down with him in a tangle of limbs, teeth, and tongue. She straddled his lap and pressed her hands against his chest, pulling away from him (if not a little unwillingly).

“Seriously, though,” she started. “It’s been, like, a long time since I’ve… and it wasn’t good last time and-”

“That’s alright,” Cable replied, brushing her hair back out of her face. “I think we both need to take it easy. We’ve got all night. Well, all morning.”

She'd never seen that look on a man's face before - a look of such understanding and tenderness that her breath caught in her throat. For all his gruff exterior, the manly macho attitude, he could empathize with her. This was different for both of them - him, after he'd essentially lost his family to the literal test of time and her, letting someone in for the first time in years.

"Thank you." Vivian hugged him. “For understanding."

"Nothin' to thank me for," Cable said. "This is new for me, too."

"We'll just take it slow."

He raised an eyebrow. He tended to like it slow anyway. "And that's not necessarily a bad thing."

Vivian shifted in his lap. She could feel his cock against her thigh through his clothes, half-hard and hot. "Not a bad thing at all."

Cable slid his hands up under her shirt and tugged it over her head before pulling his own shirt off. He picked her up against and twisted them around so that she was on her back, head almost knocking against the headboard, and he was wedged securely between her thighs.

Vivian watched him pull his shirt off. She wasn't fixated on the metal arm - she'd seen it more than a few times and had the techno-virus issue explained to her. She was a little fascinated by how far the virus extended over his body, but that could be chalked up to scientific fascination. No, what she was fixated on appealed to the very basic instinct of the little reptilian part of her brain that only thinks in terms of sex pleasure satisfaction want want want. He was fucking ripped.

Vivian wasted no time in running her hands along the corded muscle criss-crossing his body. "Are you kidding me? I haven't been to the gym in six months and you've got a fucking eight-pack. Are you even real?"

"Oh, I'm very real," Cable laughed and reached under her back to snap the clasp on her bra. "And I know the bra trick, too."

"You're not real. I'm dreaming." Vivian wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close for another kiss. Yep, that was all of him pressed against her thigh now. "Well, I guess you are real."

"You're awfully chatty when you're worked up," Cable teased. "I don't think I've ever seen you this talkative."

"I talk a lot when I'm nervous."

“If you need me to stop, you say the word."

"Oh, no, I'm doing great right now." Vivian paused, shivering as Cable pressed his mouth just below her ear. "I talk a lot when I'm horny, too. So you really never know where it's coming from."

"Well, let's see if I can calm you down."

Cable crawled down her body, pressing kisses to her neck and down her chest, sucking bruises into her skin. His mouth slipped across one nipple and then the other, fingers pinching and pulling at the one not currently occupied by his mouth. Vivian raked her hands through his hair, holding his head in place as he grazed her nipple with his teeth.

She grabbed at his shoulders as he mouthed down her belly, all the way to her navel. He dipped his tongue just under the waistband of her pants before licking a stripe back up her body and biting her nipples again.

“You’re gonna kill me-”

Cable kissed her neck, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “Relax for me. I’ve got you.”

“Easier said than done, but I’ll do it for you.”

Cable trailed his lips back down her body, and this time, he didn’t stop at her waistband. He peeled her jeans off of her and threw them in a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, spreading her thighs wide for him and bracing her hip with his nonhuman hand. It was cold against her skin at first but warmed up quickly.

He started down near her knees, trailing his lips up her inner thigh, sucking and biting as he went. He left marks up all the way up her thighs, then switched to the other just as his lips hovered over her cunt. She huffed when he started on her other thigh, impatient and needing relief.

He slid his fingers in, one after the other until he could fit three fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt. He pumped his hand slowly, pressing the pad of his thumb against her clit and moving in slow, even circles. He trailed his mouth along the line of her clit, tongue flicking out to press and tease her cunt. Vivian gripped his hair, fingernails scrabbling over the short military cut.

“Nate, come on, that’s enough teasing-”

The sound of his name got Cable to look up at her. He seemed surprised. “What did you call me?”

Vivian blinked, a hard twinge of fear stabbing through her stomach. “Sorry, I guess I should have asked first…”

“Say it again.”

“What?”

Cable stared up at her, eyebrows raised. “Say my name again.”

“You want me to call you ‘Nate?’”

“Yes,” he said, none too gently. His voice strained with want, as if just hearing her call his name tested his willpower.

And of course, that gave Vivian an idea. She had never been able to just relax in a situation, never been able to just lay back and enjoy what was being done to her. She needed a little control. In fact, that would probably help with the fluttering nervousness in her stomach.

“You like when I say your name?” Vivian asked, fingers scratching at the back of his scalp.

Cable crawled back up so that his hands were placed firmly on both sides of her head. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you show me how much you like it?” Vivian said, sitting up. She bent to kiss him, stretching up onto her elbows. She tasted herself on his lips.

“What have you got in mind?” Cable asked.

“Take your pants off and find out.”

Cable chuckled and did as she asked, stripping down until he was completely naked. She had him sit on the bed and straddled his lap, pushing him to lean back against the headboard.

Vivian braced herself on her knees, lowering herself down over his lap. She slid herself down over his cock, just brushing against him. He jumped as she lowered herself down, watching intently, his eye flashing red in the half-light. She gripped his shoulders for leverage and leaned down to bite his earlobe, the hollow of his throat, until she claimed his lips in another kiss. She rubbed his cock just enough to get him all slicked up and aching, until he was moaning in her ear.

“Jesus, that feels so good,” Cable breathed, gripping her hips. “You gonna fuck me, baby?”

“Maybe I’ll tease you until you say please,” Vivian replied, grinding down just a little harder.

“It won’t take much more, I can promise you that.”

Vivian eased up enough to sit back on his thighs and get herself positioned comfortably. She took the base of his cock in her hands, pumping gently - not that he needed any more help at this point. He was hard and flushed red from root to tip, heavy in her hand and ready for her to sink down on.

“Hold on,” Cable said, voice strained. “Condom?”

“Baby factory doesn’t work.”

“Then go for it.”

Vivian sank down on him, working herself down slowly so that she could stretch to accommodate his size. He was good and slicked up from her just rubbing on him, so it wasn’t a hard stretch. She heard him sigh, heard him call her name, before she lifted herself up and sank down on him again.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, leaning his head back against the headboard. His fingers dug into her hips, searching for anything to grab.

“You like that?”

“I like that.”

She sank down on him harder, deep as she could go, until he was almost lifting her up and slamming her back down himself. He called her name again, one right after the other, peppered in between fuck and yes and his deep, gruff groans. Finally, he grabbed her hips, lifted her off of him, and flipped her on her back, settling down between her legs. He slid his cock back in, looking for any kind of friction he could manage.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned in her ear. “So wet for me, baby. You want me to fuck you like this? Nice and hard like this?”

“Look who’s chatty now,” Vivian breathed, making him smile against her skin. “Keep fucking me, Nate.”

“Say that again.”

“Fuck me, Nate,” Vivian said, digging her nails into his back. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in as close as she could. “Just like that.”

“My name sounds so good in your mouth, darlin’,” he said, slamming his hips against hers. “I’m close.”

Vivian nodded. “I’m ready.”

Cable pressed down against her so that they were chest to chest as he thrust once, twice, and came with her name in his mouth. Vivian followed right before him, squeezing every bit of him that she could manage with her hands as she clenched down around him. He rode out his release, pumping his hips slowly until he could ease out. He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing heavy, before kissing her forehead and rolling onto his side.

He ran his fingers down her side, following the line of her hip. “You okay?”

Vivian kissed him, throwing her leg over his. “Never better.”

----

They’d been asleep for maybe a couple of hours before a knock sounded at the door. Vivian wouldn’t have heard it at all had she been sleeping by herself, but it was hard to stay asleep when she wasn’t used to someone being in the bed next to her. Especially someone naked who looked as good as Cable did disheveled from sleep. Cable, on the other hand, was a light sleeper anyway and would have woken up from a pin dropping in the next room over.

Vivian rubbed her eyes and sat up on the edge of the bed. Cable grabbed her hip, scooting her in close to him. “Want me to get that?”

“No,” Vivian replied, standing up to stretch. She searched around for the first shirt she saw and something that kind of looked like shorts on her floor. “It’s 9AM. I guarantee I know who’s at my door.”

“If it’s that clown in the red suit-”

Vivian pulled on the clothes she found and bent down to kiss him good morning. “I will send him promptly on his way with no cookies, nor milk. Or coffee. That’s usually why he gets here this early.”

“Go get rid of him,” Cable replied, stretching before throwing the covers off of himself. “I’ll make breakfast after you slam the door in his face.”

“My hero.”

The knocking was getting louder and was now punctuated by Wade’s sing-songing voice. She almost wanted to see how long he would do it before either giving up or having the cops called on him. She could bet that calling the cops would happen before he gave up. But she wanted breakfast and five minutes awake with Cable before the both of them had to go get the day started.

Vivian opened the door and made sure to block the entrance so that Wade couldn’t push straight past her. “Can I help you?”

“Well, hello! Good morning to me.” Wade said, looking up Vivian up and down and whistling. “I was just in the neighborhood and noticed a blue truck parked next to your car in a place where there usually isn’t a blue truck. And I find you this morning wearing the shirt a certain Grumpy Daddy was wearing yesterday and a pair of boxers I guarantee you don’t own.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vivian said, grinning. “These are my pajamas.”

“Don’t you lie to me. You wear those Pikachu pants I bought you to sleep in.”

“Well, I wear these under the Pikachu pants.”

“Come on, McSteamy! You’ve got to tell me all about it!” Wade whined, on the verge of outright begging. “Viv, he’s still here this morning. I want all the dirty details, right on down to what Grumpypants says in bed.”

Vivian nodded, pretending to hear him out. “Still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Viv, for the love of God, just say yes or no. Was the dick good?”

“Yes.”

And she promptly slammed the door in his face. She locked every lock so that there was no chance of him getting in short of literally breaking down her door. She could still hear him yelling out her name, trying to get her to come let him back in.

Vivian padded into the kitchen where she found Cable searching through her fridge. He was still naked, considering that she was wearing his clothes. “You won’t find much in there to make breakfast with, I’m afraid. I don’t have time to eat here that often.”

“There’s eggs and bacon. Looks like a good breakfast to me.”

Vivian sat down at the table and watched him get to work. He’d already set to making a pot of coffee. “I’m gonna put in some clinic hours today. Want to take a shower with me after breakfast?”

“Yes ma’am,” Cable replied, sitting down at the table across from her. He handed her a steaming mug of coffee and took one for himself. He peered over at the stove every now and then to check on the eggs and bacon. “I’ve got a job to do after lunch, but it won’t take me long.”

“So, I’ll see you tonight then?” Vivian asked,taking a sip from her mug.

“Mhm. And we’ll get a good night’s sleep after that.”

----

Vivian had put in her hours at the clinic and headed right over to Xavier’s mansion. She still had a month left of working her clinic hours, but after that she’d be moving permanently back into the mansion. As she walked down the hallways of her old home, she wondered if her room was occupied or if it had remained empty all these years. Surely Colossus had boarded another new trainee. Maybe she’d finally get a bigger room…

She sat down at the kitchen table with Colossus and waited for Wade to show up. He’d been living at the mansion for months now, ever since Colossus had pieced him back together after Vanessa’s death. Really, of all the people at the table, she was the one who should have been late - not Wade. And yet, he always seemed to run on his own schedule unless he had a job to do.

“So, this is what we are going to do,” Colossus said, clicking his pen. He’d been doodling on his notepad while he waited for Vivian to get comfortable and was more than done with waiting for Wade to pop in. “We are going to create a game plan.”

Just then, Wade popped into the kitchen. He plunked himself down at the table on the other side of Colossus, peering over the larger man’s shoulder. “Well, Uncle Wade’s coming along no matter what, so I’m just gonna sit in on this one.”

Colossus wrinkled his nose, the easiest way to determine that he thought something was a bad idea. “I am not sure that is a good idea, Wade.”

It usually wasn’t a great idea to bring Wade along on any mission that required tact, but Vivian kept her mouth shut on that one. She couldn’t take part, so she didn’t have much to contribute. This was Colossus’s area of expertise, not hers.

“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We knock on the door to take the bastard’s kids and he pulls a gun on us?” Wade asked, snorting. “I’ve got bad news for him.”

“He won’t be able to do anything,” Vivian said. She fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth. It was something Colossus had picked out, clearly - it was minimalist and a little utilitarian, but it was clean and crisp from being freshly laundered. “The X-Men aren’t subject to the government. If you’re coming to get Benji and Shelly, Jack doesn’t have a choice but to give them up.”

Colossus scribbled with his pen. “Be that as it may, I am still not sure if you should be the one to go with me, Wade.”

“I’ll go.”

A voice sounded from the kitchen door, gruff and deep. The three turned to find Cable leaning against the doorway, fully dressed in his usual uniform of cargo pants, skin-tight t-shirt, and utility bag (Wade still wouldn’t give up the fanny pack joke - Vivian tended to agree but she didn’t mention it). He strode in and took a seat at the table next to Vivian, crossing his legs under the table.

“Well, howdy stranger,” Vivian grinned. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he replied.

“You could have mentioned that,” Vivian said, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“You didn’t ask.”

Wade reached all the way around Colossus and clapped Cable on the back. “Glad to have you on board, Marty McFly! What a way to meet your new girlfriend’s kids, huh?”

“Are you sure about that, Cable?” Colossus asked, watching him carefully. Colossus still had a hard time trusting Cable, but he’d never made it known. He accepted that his wariness also came from a place of protectiveness, but Vivian was a big girl and could handle herself just fine.

Vivian mirrored Colossus’s concern. “I kind of agree with Colossus here. Wade can handle this just fine.”

Cable shrugged. “I’m not gonna kill the guy. Probably.”

“Hey, hey, I’m going whether Cable goes or not!” Wade snapped.

“Enough!” Colossus said, tearing the sheet out of his notepad and crumpling it up. “The three of us will go. We will keep this as peaceful as possible.”

“And if we get a few good headshots in, no harm done!”

Vivian smacked Wade’s arm. “If you traumatize my children, I will find a way to kill you.”

“Colossus will cover their eyes, Cable and I will take aim.”

Cable put his hand on the back of Vivian’s chair. “We’ll take care of it.”

“I trust you. All of you. On varying levels, but I can’t go with you so I’m going to have to trust you.”

[ryugasama]

Strade X Reader- Run for your life (Boyfriend to Death)

(Strade and the game boyfriend to death belongs to their original creators. Here is the website for the game: http://boyfriendtodeath.com . I haven’t played it, but if you want to play it go ahead. I only seen this game by watching a few YouTubers play it, so here’s the story. I hope its good.)

You just wanted to have a fun time at the bar, you just wanted to find someone to love. You never wanted any of this, you never asked for him to appear. “What have I done to deserve this?” You prayed to God every night before you fell asleep on the cold basement floor. You were scared, you were hungry, you were cold. Every time he offered food, you would just smile like a scared kitten shaking your head no. But little did you know that today your life would change, it was up to you what it’s going to be like: For the better? Or for the worst?

You lifted your head groggily when you heard his footsteps coming down the stairs. He smiled at you and went into his pocket for a energy bar. He dangled it in front of your face almost teasingly while your stomach rumbled of hunger.

Strade: Good morning sweetie, are you hungry yet?

You looked down avoiding his gaze and shook your head solemnly no. He stroked your hair and got up laughing joyfully.

Strade: It’s been three weeks since you last ate, you’re going to die of starvation you know. Then we won’t have fun anymore.~

His eyes stared down at you while a deep blush appeared on his face, you knew he was thinking dirty thoughts again. Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed the knife in his hands. “Oh no, please not again.” You whimpered silently to yourself. The knife that has cut you so many times, and only stabbed you once in your right shoulder tinted in the light, and bounced off the walls. He licked the blade and snickered watching your eyes turn wide with fear.

Strade: I love that look on your face, it drives me mad.~

He bent down to your level holding the knife up to your forearm.

Strade: Now, let’s have some fun, shall we?~

(Y/N): W-wait, Strade…… please……

He sliced your skin swiftly and squeezed it to make your crimson blood flow out from the opening. His face only kept getting a darker red.

Strade: Mmmmmm hmmmmm.~

He licked your blood from the knife and leaned into your to kiss your neck softly while slicing your other arm. You whimpered loudly this time, fear filling your whole body.

(Y/N): Strade, no….. please….. don’t do this…..

He laughed and yanked your hair harshly making you scream in pain, it felt like he was trying to rip it from out of your skull.

(Y/N): Strade!!

He pushed his chest up to yours and shoved you to the ground. You felt your legs and elbows scrape, the fire like pain brought tears to your eyes.

Strade: Ahhh yes! Yes, yell my name like that again!

He shoved the knife deep into your stomach making a ear piercing shriek launch out of your mouth. You coughed up blood instantly and yanked at the ropes wildly around your wrists trying to break free. His laugh got more evil, and his pupils got even smaller. “I got to get away, now!” You screamed again when he forcefully pulled the knife out of your stomach. Blood oozed out more, and you suddenly felt faint. “N-no….” With out warning, you kicked him between his legs making him drop the knife. “This is my chance!” You desperately yanked yourself free and grabbed the knife shoving it deep into his hunched over back,

Strade: Ow, you son of a bitch!

You ran up the stairs and flew out the basement door, your vision getting blurred and dizzy while blood oozed our heavily from your cuts and stab wound. “I-I gotta get out of here….” You ran to the door and pulled on the locked knob, banging on it yelling for help. Hoping someone would hear you, but nothing. You heard Strade’s footsteps angrily stomp up th stairs.

Strade: Oh, now you’ve done it!

You hurried to the living room and tried to open the window, it was glued shut. Strade’s voice was getting closer.

Strade: Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU?!

You ran to the kitchen trying to open the windows only to get the same result. You ducked behind the kitchen counter looking for a weapon to defend yourself with, there were no knives of forks, or anything at all. “He must’ve took them all.”

Strade: Y/N, IF YOU COME OUT RIGHT NOW I PROMISE NOT TO HURT YOU! MAN’S HONOR!

“Yeah, right.” You thought looking around for some where to run. You were about to run upstairs, but then froze when you heard his footsteps in the kichen.

Strade: Oh Y/N!~

You noticed your blood leaving a trail to where you were on the floor and gasped, then you heard a familiar voice whisper in your ear.

Strade: Hello sweetie.~

You screamed looking at Strade and flew up the stairs painfully gripping your stomach.

Strade: Why are you running? There’s no where to go, or anywhere to hide.

You ran into what looked like his room and locked the door tight, pushing a heavy desk in front of it. You looked at the door walking backwards only to fall on the floor. Your breathing was heavy, you could hear his footsteps coming up the stairs. The door knob jiggled a couple of times before he lightly knocked on the door.

Strade: Y/N, there’s no escape sweetie. Even if you do manage to run and hide, I will find you. Now be good, and open this door.

It was silent for a moment before he constantly banged on the door angrily.

Strade: OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!!!

You scrambled to your feet and went through his dresser drawers for clothes. You managed to find a white shirt and brown jeans and put them on. Then you noticed it was quiet, too quiet. “Where did he go?” You put your ear to the door to listen for noise, then screamed when a chainsaw suddenly broke through the door near your head. You ran to the window hearing Strade curse to himself lowly.

Strade: Come on sweetie, be good. Why must you put yourself through unnecessary stress?

You felt like you were gonna be sick and looked around for something heavy and hard. There was a hammer near his desk side, you took it and swung as hard as you can at the window shattering all the glass.

Strade: Shit!

You began to climb out the window, but was pulled back inside and was thrown to the ground. Strades hands went around your throat squeezing the oxygen out of you. You gasped for air feeling weak.

(Y/N): Strade, I’m sorry. I’ll be good.

Strade: No, you had your chance. You crossed the line sweetie!

You kicked you legs around wildly but he kept his body weight down on you. He smiled happily.

Y/N: I-I…..

Your vision started to get dark.

Y/N: I DON’T WANT TO DIE!!

You gained energy and bit his arm making him pull away breathing painfully. “Now!” You ran to the window and jumped out falling into the ice cold alley floor. Your arm snapped and bent in a unnormal way. You screamed out in pain while getting up and limping away. “I have to get out of here.” You thought lumping back to your place.

It took you a while, but you finally made it back to your old place. It felt so good to be back, but you knew that you couldn’t stay. You used your good arm to grab and bag and pack your things, then went into the bathroom to fix your wounds. It hurt like hell when you poured alcohol on to clean any infections, but what did you expect? For it to tickle? When you were done you held your broken arm and went back into your room throwing the bag over your shoulder.

The door closed behind you and Strade slowly walked up to you with his knife still in his back. Your eyes grew wide when you felt hands rest on your hips tightly.

Strade: Hello sweetie.~

He pushed you onto the bed and made you face him, ropes in his hands.

Strade: You’ve been bad today, Y/N. I’m afraid I’m going to have to punish you.~

He laughed excitedly tying your wrists to the bed poles, pain shot out through your whole body making you cry unknowingly.

Strade: Awww, don’t cry sweetie. It’s all going to be okay, I promise.~

He reached behind him and pulled the knife out from his back, then placed the coolness of the blade onto my chest. Your energy was gone, you couldn’t fight back. Your vision going dark. You felt your pants being removed, then complete pain in your lower body. Your eyes closed and you couldn’t move at all, your body went numb to all feeling. All you could do was lay there helplessly listening to Strades moans and groans that made you feel sick. Then the knife went straight through your chest and turned. You wanted to scream to jolt up in pain, but you were stuck, paralyzed. You felt Strade smear blood on you, then nothing. All the sounds, all your oxygen, all your sanity gone.

*YOU DIED, STRADE WARNED YOU.*