mistressjinx: Blue Please (pic#5022669)

Title: While We Rock Ourselves To Sleep, a continuation of [personal profile] devildoll's fic But Not With Derek
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: Mature
Tags: Continuation, Pining, Angst, Heartbreak, Self-har
m, Blood, Depression, Second Chances
Summary: The fourth stage of grief perpetually lingers in the aftermath of falling for Stiles.
Notes: This fic was entirely inspired by listening to The Weeping Song by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. Listen here.

Derek noticed something was off about Stiles and his heartbeat. There was a growing worry in his gut for weeks, but he couldn't put a finger on it; apprehension filling his heart and mind every time Stiles lied to him. He doesn't let on that he's caught wind of the lies, but they are becoming more frequent. Stiles reeks of dishonesty and is emitting a feeling of unease. He exchanges nods and makes eye contact with Scott, indicative of having a secret when the three of them are together.

Stiles doesn’t have that beautiful smile on his face whenever his eyes land on Derek any more. Even their conversations became more strained, Stiles’ still talking and sharing, but an underlying sadness in his words. Like he was holding something back from Derek. A few times he catches himself and immediately jumps subjects.

But Derek doesn't miss it.

He tells Derek he'll be gone for the weekend for an out of town game against West Langdon High. It's for the State Championship. He's excited. Derek can smell the elation all over him. It's vibrating out of his skin. It's like a glow has sparked within Stiles, and this crushes Derek.

He wants to be the only one, the only thing that makes Stiles feel this way.

It’s that thought that causes the answer to hit Derek like a slap in the face. It's not something, but rather someone that is making Stiles feel this way. Someone that isn't him. He doubles over, instantly, feeling punched in the gut. So he does the only thing he knows how do, he puts up a wall. Withdraws from Stiles. Doesn't look him in the eye anymore. All those months and months of them spending time together, and the attraction. It's like that thing between them has been erased.

When Stiles brings it up with him—that he can sense that something is off with Derek, he just shrugs his shoulders and tells him not to worry about it.

The Thursday night before his trip, after Stiles hightails it out of his house with a giddy gusto in his step, he realizes the finality of their situation. It's obvious that he's headed towards something marvelous, while Derek is being abandoned. Left behind to mourn the loss of him; the him that he never really had the chance to have to begin with.

Derek curls up into his bed and lets his emotions overtake him. He doesn't cry tears, but his body heaves with a purpose, oozing a bereft melancholy. His mind won't shut off the thought that his inaction and moral compass has caused him to lose Stiles.

That is the first time in the 274 days since Stiles’ birthday, that he doesn't erase one of the lines from the chalkboard.


The next evening Derek wraps the chalkboard in a thin blanket and puts it under his bed. Just the sight of it sends ripples of sadness through him. Mocking him and his longing. The constant reminder that this was his endgame. The thing that got him through the night and made his wolf content.

Stiles, for a while now, had been Derek's first thought when he awoke, and his last thought before he fell to slumber, and he occupied his thoughts constantly through the day. He had a routine. He would plan out their future. He would concoct the perfect outings in his head. Places he'd take Stiles and things he would show him.

He had a place that was just his—a swimming hole near a campground that he would go to as a kid all through to his teen years with his family. It was his favorite place. His secret place where the memories were always happy, and his thoughts would return to that place when he thought about making new memories, with Stiles. Taking Stiles there on a warm summer morning. Swimming and fucking and sunbathing. He would show him his true smile there, the one he kept just for himself, the one that hadn't been present since his family died.

He would take Stiles there and finally tell him everything about the one thing he hadn't told anyone. His past. And he would ask Stiles to forgive him and just love him in return, unconditionally like he loved Stiles. It would be the happiest day of his life. And that daydream was enough to get him through the hard times.

But now, that fantasy, and it would have to be shelved for another time. For another man, that wasn't Stiles. He fell hard, retreated back into his head. Couldn't escape the inner demons that lived there telling him he didn't deserve this. That he would never have it. That insolent laughter of ridicule set his teeth on edge. The smell of burnt flesh filled his nose sending him back to his darkest place.

How could he be so naive?

Derek was all alone again, and he felt the weight of that loneliness. He needed some relief from this perdition. He took out the folding knife he carried with him in his jacket pocket.

He unfolded the blade, holding it against his forearm. He thought of how, in his favorite daydream, he was going to pin Stiles against the rock where the water was shallowest. He was going to run his tongue from the back of Stiles’ ear all the way down his spine. He was going to bury his fingers deep inside of him and rut against him until their bodies were burning with need.

He fucking hated himself. He hated how he had given his mind and his imagination over to this fantasy that would never happen. So he took that knife and cut into his flesh. He watched the blood running down his arm in a lightning bolt of crimson. He kept squeezing his fists to make the blood escape faster out of his arm.

He felt a wave of relief coursing through him.

When he regained his mind and looked down, his arm was healed. So he repeated the act over and over in a ritual of hatred and release. Until the blood flowing to the floor below him was a thick coagulated blanket. He stopped when he could no longer feel the pain of the cut. He was numb to it now. His self-loathing adapting; getting stronger with each passing moment of his self-deprecation.

Fuck it. Derek lay down and shut his eyes for sleep, and willed his thoughts away. To escape to a void of desolation where Stiles didn't exist.

Stiles came over the following Tuesday. Derek had barely made it out of bed since Saturday. He hadn't really had the energy to care. When he opened the door to him, Stiles was already wearing a smile plastered across his face. A smile that only slightly ebbed at the sight of Derek, but was back up just as fast. Stiles smelled different. His body chemistry was marinated in the scent of another. And his heart beat differently. He was happy. Truly undeniably, incandescently happy. It bled from his aura like the pain bled from Derek's reflection every day when he looked at himself in the mirror.

They didn't talk about it and Stiles didn't stay.

He stopped coming around after that.


Scott and Derek talk about it one night though. Well, Scott rambles on and Derek listens while holed up in the car waiting to meet with Dr. Deaton. Scott tells him that Stiles fell in love with another Lacrosse player from West Langdon's team, a school that was an hour away. That they didn't get to see each other very often, but they were mad about one another. They had Skype dates and weekend excursions. That the kid met the Sheriff and got the seal of approval for them to room together next year at CSU-Sacramento. He told Derek that Stiles said he wasn't going around him anymore because he didn't want to be unfair to him. That it was too hard to see him when he looked like a punched kitten every time they were in the same room together. Stiles never told Scott about the chalkboard or their plans, but a person would have to be blind to not know that there was some kind of untold history between them. Derek only asked Scott if the guy was good to Stiles, and Scott said, "He's the best, man."

Scott never ever tells Stiles that he smells defeat and the macabre sour scent of sorrow on Derek in the car that night. After that they never speak of it again.

Because that was that.


Derek has opportunities over the next year to move on. But he doesn't act on them. He's not feeling up to putting himself out there again. One shapeshifter, Amelia, piques his interest, but he can't bring himself to do anything about it. He doesn't want to fall in love again.

He is terrified of feeling that twinge of unsatisfied longing again. He told himself he will never have those daydreams again; having them so close to the periphery and not fulfilled. Derek's spark died with Stiles. When the kid rode out of Beacon Hills and started his real life.

Without Derek.

Derek still gnaws and claws at his headboard in his sleep each night.


Over the years, the Sheriff and Derek get close. They work together so much that they lose count of how many times they have a close call, and are there for one another. In a way they become friends. John brings Stiles up a few times to Derek in conversation, but Derek falls into a black mood each time. So he no longer talks about his son around him anymore. They find out that they can carry on relatively easy and comfortable conversations about everything that isn't Stiles and the ease of camaraderie forms between them.

It's not shocking then that Derek receives an invitation to John's nuptials. He surmises that they are good enough buddies to get an invite. So Derek decides to show his respect for John and his partner Melissa by going to the shindig and not making an excuse to not attend. He was going to have to run into Stiles someday, at least there will be enough distractions for him that the elephant in the room won't suffocate them all to death.


Derek wears black jeans and a black pinstripe button down. The wedding is run of the mill. The Sheriff tears up during the vows. The emotions are contagious to the lot of friends and family and community members in attendance. From the back of the room Derek fixes his eyes on Stiles standing next to his Father as Best Man. He looks brilliant. He looks breathtaking. Stiles doesn't look at Derek at all. There are several people in Scott's group that he doesn't recognize at the reception. So he assumes one of them is Stiles' boyfriend. But he can't bring himself to watch Stiles interact with the group. He doesn't think he can take seeing the person that claimed his heart away. Derek confines himself to a corner and nurses three fingers of scotch while people dance and toast. He wishes so badly he could get drunk.

John joins him for a drink at some point. Allison drops by to offer small smiles and a reassuring shoulder bump to Derek. She tells him that she doesn't have to be a werewolf to smell the sadness radiating from his direction. He can't even be mad at her for saying it. It's accurate.

A quarter to ten is the breaking point for Derek. He gets up to leave and finds Scott lingering at the entrance to the hall. He looks pensive, but he doesn't stop Derek, he just tells him that Stiles is outside waiting for him.

His gut drops to the floor like a broken piñata. His heart is dangerously close to combusting from the thought of having to be within Stiles’ general vicinity.

When he gets outside he sees Stiles leaning back against his car, arms folded over his chest, one leg crossed over the other, head down. He looks deep in thought. Derek wants to take a picture, so he can torture himself looking at the line of his body and weep until he's blue in the face.

He takes a deep breath and approaches, and Stiles looks up at him. He's exuding a restless cloud of nervous towards Derek. He stinks of trepidation.

"Hey." Stiles says quietly.

"Hello Stiles." Derek says in return. Stiles is shifting his hands around nervously. Derek just stands there still as night.

"Were you going to leave without saying anything?" Stiles asks.

"Does it matter?" Derek replies, twitching an eyebrow up in question.

"Of course it matters. I haven't seen you in years. We used to mean a lot to each other. Remember?" Stiles forces this out with a pained look on his face. Derek stews on his words. Emotions coming back to him that he hadn't given voice to in those years.

"I remember promises and plans that never happened. I remember you leaving Beacon Hills without saying goodbye to me. So why would I venture over to pay you a courtesy you didn't bother to give me five years ago?"

Derek spits out at him.

Stiles is stunned to get so many words from Derek. He lingers on them, takes a deep breath before answering.

"Because I've missed you and I was hoping that you've missed me too. The only thing I've wanted since I've been back is to see you and tell you how sorry I am. That I didn't wait for you all those years ago." His eyes cast down at the hurt look on Derek's face. "I should have waited for you." Stiles says lowly under his breath, but Derek still catches it.

"Can't undo it now Stiles."

"Don't wanna undo it Derek. I just want you to know that I am remorseful. That I see in hindsight that I didn't do the right thing." Stiles is looking Derek in the eye now with a determination. "I was in love with you, you know. For the longest time. But you said we had to wait. So I waited until I realized that you no longer wanted that from me. That we became real friends and that spark between us, it was no longer there." Fuck if Stiles didn't know how to still wring every facet of emotion from the deepest part of Derek. What an idiot he was. Derek felt a bolt of anguish course its way through him.

"What are you even talking about Stiles? I spent that year falling more in love with you than ever. Pining for you and planning for us when the time was right. How can you think that spark fizzled away? It was literally bleeding out of me!" Derek closed his eyes. He felt the emotion bubbling up on his face. He looked at Stiles, blinking away the evidence of how much he hurt.

"I didn't know. You never said." Stiles quietly confesses.

"No. You're right. I didn't." Derek replies. There is a long pause between them. Stiles looks eager to say something, shifts his body back and forth looking for the right words.

"I dream about you all the time. You came back into my dreams months ago. After Eliot moved out, after he left me. I would spend hours in bed each night thinking back to us. I would think about you so hard that I would dream about you. I can't stop myself from wishing we could go back." Stiles unburdens himself with the confession.

"We can't." Derek says.

"No, I know." Stiles says dejectedly. "But I wanted you to know. I didn't want to let you leave here without telling you that I am sorry for how things went down all those years ago. That I would do it over again if I could, and I would wait for you. Because you were…are worth it." Derek hears the words. He takes them in. Tucks them away. He knows he will relive this exchange over and over. He has finally gotten the closure he didn't know he needed. At least Stiles thinks about him. Feels an iota of the pain and regret that has fueled Derek all these years.

"Okay." Derek concedes.

"Okay." Stiles repeats in defeat.

Stiles slowly starts making his way back to the hall. Hands in his pockets, head down. Derek is looking at him walking away. He closes his eyes, inhales deep.

"Thank you, Stiles. It means a lot…that you said it," he says in the direction of his back.

Stiles turns to look back at him, he gives Derek a shrug of his shoulders, curls down his lips into a small frown, turns away again to keep walking. Derek doesn't know why he's doing this but watching Stiles about to disappear back out of his life again burns his stomach and his mouth opens to form words before he realizes he's speaking.

"Hey Stiles," he hollers towards him. Stiles stills and looks back, "Yeah?" he answers towards Derek.

"Do you want to get some coffee, and maybe talk some more?" He asks with a hopeful twist to his cheek.

Stiles grins back at him. And damn Derek missed that. "Yes, Derek, I want to get coffee with you…more than anything in the world." Derek lips form the smallest of tiny smiles back at him.


Derek is standing at the kitchen counter. He hears it. The approaching thumping of his heart. He can tell he's close. He hears the thumpa-thumpa like a drum in his head, beating a rhythm to scare away all the enemies in his mind. He feels limbs wrap around his waist and the warmth of his chin come to rest over his right shoulder. They stand like that for a tick while Derek's wrist flick over and over making a repetitive design on the blackened porcelain enamel.

"Whataya doing?" Stiles whispers into his ear. Sleepy satisfaction on his voice.

"Making you something to take back with you to Sacramento." Derek says. Stiles looks down at the counter. Takes in what Derek is doing and realization falls over his mind.

"Is that the same chalkboard I gave you on my birthday?" He asks, his voice raising an octave in questioning disbelief. He knows it is because he can see where the board is permanently stained from the chalk where he had written on it all those years ago. Tattooed from the marks sitting and stale for too long, untouched. Derek nods.

"Yes, the same one." Stiles feels a hot burst of nerves.

"And what are you putting on it?" he asks even though he can see what Derek is doing plain as day. Stiles is pressing his weight into Derek. Swaying a bit into him. Gripping him tight like he's afraid to let him go. On the board there were ninety-one lines staring back at him, thirteen groups of seven lines drawn neatly scattered across with chalk. Stiles heart hammers. Derek feels it against his back.

"I didn't want you to leave today and go back home without giving you this, so you have something to look forward to. It's exactly how many days until we see each other again." Stiles smiles at this and presses a kiss to Derek's neck.

"Until you move back to Beacon Hills, back home…to me."

"It's perfect." Stiles hums into Derek's shoulder. Neither of them can wipe the silly smiles off of their face.


That night-three days ago-the night of the reception, that night Derek and Stiles stayed up all night. They talked and they touched and told each other how their lives had been in the years they had missed each other. They talked about the good stuff. Derek talked about his territory with a spark in his eye and Stiles talked about college and all the trouble he got himself into. Derek told Stiles about his Dad and their friendship and Stiles told Derek about falling in love. They even talked about the bad stuff. Derek told Stiles all the ways he had broken his heart and Stiles told him how his heart had been broken by others. They talked until well into the next day. They both laid it out on the table showing their hands and exposing their hearts to one another. It had been years of absence, but it was like no time had passed at all. That night changed everything for them.

That night Derek fell back in love with Stiles.

And that night, Stiles fell back in love with him too.

mistressjinx: Blue Please (Blue Please)
Title: The Kissing Booth
Fandom: Spartacus
Pairing: Agron/Nasir
Rating: Teen & Up
Kissing, Carnival, Matchmaking, Fluff, AU
Summary: Nasir gets strong-armed into helping his sister out, manning the kissing booth at her University's Carnival. Of the hundreds of kisses he doles out, there is one that stands out from the rest.

Nasir always made good on his promises. Even if he made them after having a few too many Tanqueray and tonics while hanging out with his older sister Naevia and their twin cousins Mira and Melitta. The girls dragged Nasir out to Melitta’s stag night, liquored him up and made him promise to participate in Naevia’s fundraiser at her university’s Annual Carnival. After all, it is only fair to give the ladies an option since the only people who had volunteered to ‘man’ the kissing booth were Naevia, Mira and their friend Diona.


Sometimes he wished he wasn’t so damn loyal, because he really wanted to tell his sister where to stick it.

“Bubby, we need a hot guy to offer himself up at the kissing booth.” Naevia proclaimed to her baby brother. “Let’s face it; if we don’t have a guy there, we will lose out on a lot of donations. Besides, I would personally be offended if I was going to this thing, and I saw a kissing booth and nobody had thought my money didn’t spend just as good as the male populace.” Nasir reached for his glass and took another large gulp of his cocktail.

“But I don’t even like kissing girls!” He moaned. “I haven’t made out with a girl since I was going through that experimental stage when I was fifteen.”

Naevia rolled her eyes.

“It’s not like you have to make out with them. You just kiss them like you would Aunt Gaia...or me.” Naevia leaned in and places a soft kiss to her baby brother lips. They share a small smirk and have a bit of giggle just as Melitta returned to the table with Mira in tow, juggling shots in both hands and insisted that the four of them knock one back.

“You know if I have to do this thing, then you should too Nas.” Mira smacked her lips and blew her cousin a kiss. Nasir rolled his eyes at the whiny troll.

“Fine! I will do it, but only if you braid my hair.” Mira slung hair for a living; it shouldn’t be too much of a demand for his cousin to fulfill.

“Deal, cuz.” Melitta committed for her sister, who flared her nostrils in the most over-dramatized sigh she could muster.

“Alright. But it’s not even like it’s for my benefit. I’m only doing this because I owe your sister.” Mira complained. 

 “Riiiiight. And you didn’t agree because you thought Sparty might be coming with Crixus.” Naevia side- eyed her cousin while Mira feigned indifference to the accusation. She held a torch big enough to burn the bar down for Spartacus.

Everyone but Nasir had their motives for doing the kissing booth, be wouldn’t be able to get out of this one.


The morning of the Carnival Nasir awoke with an acidy feeling in his stomach. His eyes were open before his alarm went off, and he just laid there staring at the ceiling. He really didn’t want to kiss a bunch of strangers or pretend like he didn’t want to be anywhere BUT that booth. Internally he was fighting the idea of lying to Naevia and making up some excuse to not go.

He grabbed his pillow, smothered it into his face and screamed into it. Unfortunately he had been instilled with a fierce sense of loyalty to his loved ones and wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for lying to his big sister. He was just going to have to grab his cock and man up—chapstick and mouthwash were cheap, and he always followed through on a promise.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed gingerly, inhaled and forced himself up and towards the bathroom. He better start his routine before the girls showed up and presumed to pick his clothes out for him. This day was going to suck, he just knew it.

The four of them arrived at the park grounds where sixty or so people were scattered around the large area, getting everything ready. They found their booth and started setting up the table. Nasir actually looked nervous, and Diona was wired on too much caffeine—she was actually looking forward to this. You can tell the girl hadn’t been so lucky in the love department, she kept prating on about how fun it would be to kiss a bunch of hot guys.

Naevia had put the whole thing together and promised her boyfriend Crixus that she wouldn’t actually be kissing anyone, just running the booth and getting donations. Crixus had made a promise to Naevia to bring his friends down to the booth to support her, so Mira would kiss as many idiots as she had to if it meant getting a chance to kiss her crush du jour, Spartacus. That thought danced around in Mira’s mind. She was overtly happy with an extra pep in her step as she hung heart cutouts and streamers from the top of the booth.

Nasir just sat at the table, staring down at the hole in his skinny jeans with his elbows resting on his knees. Just five hours and this would all be over.


"Bubby. I think we need to have a talk." Naevia says to him, as he dangles his legs over his stool and looks unamused at the line of dudes forming in front of Mira and Diona. He has kissed seven ladies since the carnival began, and has $7 to show for his part in this big piece of stinking awful he was forced into. His magnified exhale does nothing to dissuade his sister to lead him away to look for snacks so she can give him whatever lecture she had planned. "Bub I know you don't want to be here today. I get that. You got strong- armed and I totally get it," she pauses pursing her lips and scrunching them to one side. She's contemplating how to go about this.

Nasir just rolls his eyes. "Get on with it Nae."
"Okay, well...Did you see how much money Diona has already in her jar?"
"Hey, she's easy and flirty, and actually wants to mack all over all those guys." Nasir whines.

"Exactly! She's flirty. She is being flirty and smacking her lips and getting those fellas to empty their wallets. And you could take a page from her book ya'know." Nasir and Naevia exchange looks. Nasir isn't going to win the argument here, so there is no point wasting his breath.

"So you want me to flirt with them and smile and shit, and kiss a bunch chicks and try to extort them for their hard earned money? Got it." Nasir says with a sarcastic nod to his sister.

"No Bub. I want you to be nice and feign interest and try to give these nice carnival-goers a reason to donate their money for a good cause."

Nasir huffs out a wordless acknowledgment. She's right, he concedes. He just wishes some of those guys would get in his line...at least breathe a little excitement into his afternoon. Nasir lets Naevia navigate him back to the booth. Let the fun commence.

When they return to the booth with snacks in hand, the lines have died down. Diona was applying Chapstick with a little too much enthusiasm, and Mira was obsessively checking her phone.

"Whaddaya doing Mira?" Nasir asks. She looks ridiculously anxious. "I'm checking Twitter," she answers with a small nervous voice. "Why? I thought you hated social media."

"Well, Spartacus has a Twitter. And he often tweets where he is or what he's doing. I thought perhaps he would tweet when they had arrived so I can be ready on the look-out." Mira is a fucking goner. It's a good thing she has cousin status or he would tear the mickey out of her for that confession.

Nasir just smiles at her, showing how much he wants to make fun of her silly ass.
She knows pity when she sees it. "Shut Up!" she rudely barks at him and gives him a shove.

 "Rude!" he replies.

"You know," Diona butts in, "you should put a male symbol next to the female one on your jar Nasir." She says without taking her eyes off of her mirror, touching up her makeup. "That way the gays won't feel left out. I mean Mira put a female symbol on hers, and a nice little emo girl came up and got a kiss from her while you were walking around with Naevia. You’ll make more money than the spare change you have rattling around in your jar now."

For once Nasir is actually finding the bullshit flying out of Diona's mouth sensible. Why didn't he think of that? He gets up, goes to Naevia's purse and pulls out the sharpie and proceeds to draw a male symbol on his jar next to the female one. He loves this idea. When he puts the marker down, a teenage girl with pigtail braids walks up and drops a bill inside. Nasir remembers Naevia’s words and thoughtfully smiles at her, leaning in to kiss her. She blushes and walks off without even saying a word.

"Ugh. You get it so easy." Mira says looking at him. “The guys all want to be Chatty McChatterson's with us."

Braids decides to come back up to the booth, and this time she has a wad of money in her hands having hit her parents up who are watching from several yards away. "You're back already?" Nasir says in a playful manner to her.

"Well...it's for a good cause right?" she returns sheepishly.

"It's for a great cause." Nasir says animatedly while flashing teeth, and trying his hardest to be cutesie. She just shyly drops more money in his jar, and they lean into another kiss. This time Nasir lingers a little longer; after all l she just doubled his donations. When she pulls away this time she is blushing, and Nasir gives her a tiny wink. After she's walked away Mira gives him a light sock on the arm.

"Softie," she whispers.

The lines come and go. Nasir is starting to regret putting the man symbol on his jar. The few guys that have come up to him were not at all guys he would ever kiss under normal circumstances. He's pretty sure the last one has never kissed anyone before, ever. His awkwardness radiated the whole tent and gave Nasir the willies.

However, most of the ladies giving up their hard earned dough were not shy types, and as the afternoon trotted on Nasir starting getting into it. He was getting loads of tips now and giving D a run for her money, and Mira and he were playing iSpy in between people, while Naevia was busy making nice-nice with everyone coming by.

Nasir was enjoying a lull in the customers when he saw Crixus and his merry band about 50 yards away. He could make out six guys and a blonde woman all walking together. Spartacus was the only one he knew besides Crixus, since Mira had shown him so, so many photos when she was creeping on his Facebook. He looked at her, but she was preoccupied kissing some frat guys who were dropping dollars in her jar like they were at a strip club. When they walk off she pulls her phone out, and Nasir realizes she’s checking twitter again.

"Hey cuz...iSpy, with my little eye, something tall, with a five o'clock shadow, a body cut from a Roman sculpture and heading in this direction...." Nasir teases in his adorable asshole voice. Mira's eyes shoot up, and she darts them around the carnival grounds until she sees them.

"Oh fuck," she blurts out. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." She turns to Nasir and slaps her hands down on his knees and shoves her face right up in his grill.

"How-do-I-look?-Do-I-look-okay?-You'd-kiss-me-right?" shoots out of her mouth in a running panic. "You look fine cuz. Slow your roll. Don't be the scary chick with the lotion in the basket," he teases. "Too late," Diona singsongs. Both shoot her a glaring bitchface.

Naevia sees Crixus and his mates and starts to walk towards them. It gives Mira some breathing room to compose her nerves, and Nasir starts looking at the guys talking to his sister. He's staring, but he figures they are still far enough away that it's not rude. A few of the guys are kinda sexy, and they are all built like brick shithouses. Crixus keeps company with some hot ass dudes.

There is one in particular that has caught Nasir's eye. He's much more his type than the others and wears his clothes a bit tighter than the others; a man who is confident in his looks and sexuality. Nasir likey. His eyes linger a bit too long on the lower parts of the man's torso when he looks up to find him looking right back at him. And wow! He's fucking hot.

It seems like none of Crixus' buddies are friends with a razor, but this guy’s five o'clock shadow is dead sexy. And he's smiling at Nasir. Yep smiling right at him with a dirty twist of his lips. And staring. Nice eyes. Nice everything. Nasir gets pulled out of the stare when a twenty-something attractive woman clears her throat at him. He looks to see her holding up two bucks with a quizzical brow. "Right!" he says getting with the program and leans into for a quick kiss. Nasir pushes his jar towards her and she drops in her money while giving him a sneaky smile. When Nasir looks back up he's got at least three girls in his line. He chances a glance back in the direction of his sister and that slice of sexy he was eyefucking, but is left disappointed when he sees they have moved, no longer visible in the surrounding crowd.


Kissing strangers is a thirsty job, so when Nasir's line dwindles down, he gets up to grab a bottle of water and stretch out his legs. Really it's an excuse to look around and find out where his sister ran off to. He wanders off about 10 yards behind the booth, but no dice. Fuck that guy was gorgeous. Tall and sexy. He's going to have to find out who he is from Naevia. He wanders back to his stool and rights himself, jar in lap. Mira and Diona's lines have formed fifteen deep, and as soon as he sits down a gaggle of ladies get into his line.

When he looks up, he sees Crixus and Naevia talking with a redhead, and all of Crixus' mates are in the back of the lines—Sex-On-Legs is looking right at him...from Mira's line.

Fucking hell! Whyyyyyyyyyy?

Crixus' Blondie lady friend is also in Mira's line, and all the other guys are in Diona's. Nasir can't help but be a smidgen disappointed, but the kissing must go on.

He overhears Nae's conversation with the redhead. They are exchanging ideas for a lecture, and Nae is reporting the success of the booths donations so far. The lady must work with his sister. Nasir tries to turn up the charm for her sake, in case this lady is someone important. He smiles toothy at the giggling girl in front of him. She hands him a ten dollar bill and asks if she can get five kisses for her and her friends. Nasir obliges her with faux enthusiastic excitement.

Yea. He's totally acting.

But in between each girl he dares a stealthy look at his future husband, and every single time the guy is staring right at him. It's starting to give Nasir a complex. Why is Mr. Hottiepants in Mira's line? He turns the jar so the man symbol is staring the guy in the face. He even gives it a little shake for emphasis. Get a clue dude!

Redhead starts to take pictures for some reason, and Naevia comes over asking the three of them to give a good show for the camera since the pictures would be going in the university's paper.

After he gets through his line, he looks over to see Blondie walking up to Mira for her smoochy goodness. She drops a twenty in Mira's jar and then grabs her by the back of the next and plants a filthy long kiss on her lips. Everyone stops to watch. Mira has her hands out like she's not sure what to do, but then relaxes and they fall to the side.

Blondie has balls.

"I approve!" is all she says after she pulls away from a shocked Mira and moves aside, but Mira's eyes are still bugging out of her noggin. Nasir looks over to see that his future husband has moved out of Mira's line and has been replaced with Spartacus. That explains the look of shock on his dear cousin's face. He moves toward Mira and looks her in the eyes before dropping a fifty in her jar. She's blushing a shade of eggplant now...but is quickly taken out of her blushing state when Spartacus goes in for a sweet kiss that is a little shy of too long to be just friendly.

Nasir beams for his cousin. A guy isn't gonna pay that kind of cheddar for a girl he doesn't fancy. Awesome . When they both emerge for breath Mira has a punch-drunk look on her face and her body is slack like a baby in luke-warm water. She's floating.

When Nasir looks up he is finally looking into the eyes of Captain Sexypants, up close and personal. And oh fuck, he's even hotter when he's within arms-reach. This guy's eyes, arms, everything is freaking sexy as hell. Nasir's mouth goes a little dry. The guy has money in his hand. He's putting money in his jar. OH HELL YES. Nasir smiles, and the guy, who hasn't really taken his eyes off Nasir's lips since he moved up to him, decides now is a good time to talk.

"Hello." He beams a smile at him. It's borderline devious. Are those dimples? Fuuuuuuuuck.

"Hi," he answers shakily. Right. Nasir licks his lips and the guy moves in to put his hands on Nasir's thighs, and that's totally fine with Nasir. He needs contact. The kiss starts out as nothing more than wet lips touching one other. But neither of them pull away. They just linger, eyes closed, feeling both of their pulses racing and vibrating through their mouths. It's a long silent exchange. Nasir is the one who begins to retreat, but that doesn't last long. The guy moves his left hand from Nasir's thigh up to the back of his neck and pulls him in for a hard wet kiss. He's opening his mouth and is licking along Nasir's lips asking for permission to enter. Nasir’s left hand lifts off the jar he's balancing between his legs and grips the guys right forearm.

He's compelled to hold on for the ride.

He allows him to lick inside his mouth, and the kiss starts to get really deep and messy. They pick up the pace to a level just shy of frantic. Both are swirling their tongues into each other’s mouths and fighting for more friction against the dance they're doing. Nasir ups the ante and starts sucking on the guys tongue. It's obscene. They are going at it like they teenagers without a care who sees them. The man answers Nasir's sucking by biting his bottom lip and sucking it back into his mouth. A whine leaves his throat, and it's really fucking turning him on. They keep diving back into each other’s wet mouths, grasping for more and more. Neither of them will concede to stop.

It's too delicious.

"How much do you think he put in that jar?" Lucretia whispers with a crooked smile to Naevia who is trying to conceal a vicious blush.

"I'm sorry," she says to her, searching her face for some sign of her mood.

"Nothing to be sorry about Naevia. I can see that your booth is attracting a popular turn out. I'm eager to see what the day yields for you and your charity." Lucretia's smile is suspect and smug. She turns away and starts to head down the row of booths, snapping more pictures. It seems she is being left with that. Crixus puts his arm on her shoulder and pulls her into a hug.

"I'll take these assholes away and let you finish." He tells her, and Naevia breathes a sigh of relief into his chest. "I'll start getting everything ready for dinner, and you can scare the shit out of that little git of a brother of yours." Crixus motions to Nemetes and Duro that it's time to leave with a nod.

Duro quickly takes his turn in Diona's line; he has been waiting patiently after all, and receives a hurried kiss for his trouble. Since she's five bucks richer and he's got cherry Chapstick on his lips, he decides it's a good time to grab his brother and end this gratuitous kiss-a-thon. But getting Agron to leave Boyfran's lips is easier said than done.

"Yo. Let's go," he says curtly. Agron doesn't move an iota. Yea, that's not working. His brother continues to assault the kissing booth dude with his tongue with the fervor of a stampede during the Running of the Bulls. "You're holding up the line Bro. Let the others have their turn." Agron finally gets physically pulled away by his younger brother, flashing his pearlies and grinning like the moron he his. Agron and Nae's brother are still making the sweet, sweet love to each other's bodies with their eyes. This little man doesn't stand a chance. Poor little fella doesn't know what's about to steamroll his twink ass.

Nasir looks a little confounded and isn't able to form any coherent thoughts. If he had been, he would've gotten that Tall Drink o' Water's phone number or email or fucking twitter handle. What the ever-loving fuck Nasir?

But he froze and didn't say a thing when Walking Wetdream got pulled away from him. They all kinda beelined it out of there, and Nasir is just left there to recover with a semi and an irritated looking Naevia clearing out the people standing around.

Crixus and his merry gentleman are halfway to their cars already. They promptly left at Crixus' urging after his girlfriend's boss witnessed the completely inappropriate make out sesh the Lumbering Oaf assaulted his future Brother-in-Law with. Oh Nasir is getting a tongue lashing Italian-mother style later from Naevia.

Nasir looks over at Mira who's visibly giddy and they exchange a long knowing look with each other. "Worth it!" he sing-songs to her. They knuckle bump and have a bit of a giggle.

The carnival dies down at six. The kissing booth hasn't had a patron in over ten minutes so Diona, Mira and Nasir start taking down the decorations.

Naevia is being quiet. Too quiet. Which usually means she's stewing up a particularly harsh verbal beatdown, and waiting for the perfect time to deliver it. She grabs the jars and starts counting up the donations. Diona is the first one to break the silence.

"That guy who pulled your new boyfriend off of you before you guys started shooting a porno..." she smirks, "he gave me his phone number." Nasir and Mira both jerk their heads toward her. "Since I noticed you tragically failed to even talk to the guy, I thought you'd find it pertinent that I have a way to possibly get a hold of him." Nasir practically throws himself in her direction to hug her.

"I love you. You know that right?" He's squeezing her tight mumbling something about his first born when Mira comes over and throws her arms around the two of them.

"I want in on this Lovefest," she says with a goofy expression. Obviously she's not come down from cloud nine yet. Her brain still on hiatus in Spartyland.

The good time feelings are capped off with a happy Naevia (when did that happen?) announcing that they raised $730 between the three of them. Winner Winner Chicken Dinner is, of course, Diona. Nasir in second place and Mira in third. But really, neither of them can be assed to care they didn't raise the most, because Spartacus and Detective Dreamboat happened.

They won't remember who won five years from now, but they will remember those kisses. Nasir is going to be hard pressed not to relive that kiss every single time he has a wank from now until his deathbed.

"I want you three to come over tonight for dinner so I can thank you for helping out today. I know it's a little impromptu, but I insist." Nae informs. "I'm cooking, there's booze and I'm not taking no for an answer." Well, that settles that then.

Mira and Diona take off to go home and change, while Naevia and Nasir pack up the car; the silent tension is palpable. "I'm not mad Bubby." she says. Nasir lets out a sigh of relief. He hates it more than anything when his sister is pissed at him.

"I know you couldn't help yourself. Well...I know nobody would be able to resist Agron when he comes at them like that." Nasir's mouth turns into a muscle aching smile.

"Agron?" So that's his name.

"Yes, His name is Agron. He works with Crixus. We've actually been wanting to set you two up for a while." Naevia admits hesitantly. Nasir hates being set up. Every time Naevia or Melitta try to set him up, he makes excuses or breaks the dates. He's going to have to rethink his policy on this later.

"So Crixus strong-armed the guys into coming so that we could introduce you two. See if there was any attraction." Naevia turns her lips up in a triumphant victory. "I'm guessing there was," she beams.


It's a happy car ride to the house. When they pull up there are four cars in the driveway and a bunch more parked on the street. There is a swarm of butterflies trying to bust themselves out of Nasir's belly. He knows what the sight of all these cars means.

"What's all this?" Nasir asks.

"This is for Mira and Spartacus. Earlier, at the carnival, that was for you and Agron. This here, the impromptu bar-b-que, is for them." Nasir nods. He would have liked being let in on the surprise.

"Those two have been dancing around each other for ages, and have a crush the size of Jupiter on each other. I'm surprised it took a kissing booth to make that happen."

The two of them head into the house. Nasir is nervously following Naevia through the garage door. He feels like he's got to do that thing where he pretends that he's not desperately trying to locate the object of his desires the second he walks through the door, and play it cool. But he's failing miserably. There is no playing cool right now.

His eyes are shooting around the living room. There is a gaggle of people Nasir has never met before. They are all comfortably engaging in conversation, so he knows they all know each other. Diona is on the armrest of Nae's recliner and the guy that pulled Agron away from his magic lips earlier, is sitting in the chair. They seem chummy. That's nice. A few of the guys from the carnival are sitting at the dining room table playing poker with the blonde that took Mira for a test drive before the Spartikiss.

Which brings Nasir's eyes to Spartacus and Mira in the corner by the breakfast bar. Mira is nursing the biggest shit eating grin he's ever seen and Spartacus is rubbing his thumb along her arm. Internal fist pump. Go get 'em cuz.

Nasir rounds the house through the kitchen and back out into the living room, but Agron is nowhere to be found. He's starting to show the disappointment on his face. It's hard to hide when every particle of his body wants to seek out the towering sex god and start rubbing his body on him in some kind of a primitive mating ritual. He plops down on the couch to sulk when he sees the sliding door to the backyard ajar and pops back up just as fast.

Outside Crixus has the grill going, and another half dozen guys are out there sipping their beers in conversation. No Agron though. Nasir gives up and starts to head inside, but a tap to his shoulder stops him in his tracks. When he turns around he's met with those lickable dimples and delectable green eyes staring back at him.

"Hey there," Agron says in an overtly flirty voice. Nasir is totally lost in Agron's face when he realizes he hasn't said anything back.

"Hi," he says shyly.
"Is that the only word you know?" Agron playfully teases.

"NO. No...I'm just totally lost in your face right now. I mean, wow, you're really...really easy on the eyes man." Smooth Nasir.

"You're not so bad yourself." Agron says back with cheek.

Nasir’s really got no game right now. He's not sure what to say. The silence is becoming almost uncomfortable, but the guy won't stop staring at him like he's freaking dessert or something.

"Do you want a beer?" That's always a safe one. He doesn't want this guy thinking he's not 100% interested just because his brain isn't functioning on all cylinders around this much concentrated beautiful.

"I can't. I can't stay actually. I have to go to work. I have the late shift." Disappointment slaps Nasir in the face yet again. "But I didn't want to go away today without at least talking to you. Or making plans with you. Or, you know, just seeing you again."

Ten points to Agron for successfully ending Nasir. He's officially smitten. Bit by the smitten bug. He is totally, without a doubt, a goner for this dude.

"Well, then I guess you're going to have to give me your number." Nasir smiles and hands Agron his phone. Before he can type anything in, Nasir grabs Agron's hand on impulse and leads him through the living room and out the front door so they are both standing alone on the front porch.

"I felt like everybody was watching us," he supplies as a motive for moving them. It's not at all that he wanted to be alone with Sexypants. Nope. Agron smirks, and god that's cute, and then types in his info and hands Nasir his phone back.

"Well, I better get going then," Agron says. But that look he's giving Nasir says he doesn’t want to leave. That look is saying he wants something else.

So Nasir takes the lead, his hands go straight for Agron's shirt and pulls him down so their lips are touching each other. But this isn't the kiss from earlier. This is sweet and slow. Both are breathing against each other and their lips are seeking more friction, moving together in a gentle dance. They kiss for only a minute. Agron pulling away and putting his lips to Nasir's neck, tracing up his ear, breathing him in.

"So you promise you'll call me later?" he asks while nuzzling Nasir's jaw, in a low heat filled tone.
"I promise," he quietly replies with a gleeful expression. And Nasir always makes good on his promises. 

mistressjinx: Blue Please (Blue Please)

Title: The Gleaning
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale and Momma Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: Teen & Up
Tags: Dreams, Pre-slash, Soul Bond
Summary: Derek can't get a good nights sleep. He is restless. It takes a special dream to set him on his path. His wolf will guide the way.

Derek awoke because he felt like he was falling. The sensation kicked him in the gut. He shot up into a sitting position and caught his breath, gripping hard at the mattress and sweat soaked sheets beneath his hands. He felt a heartbeat in his fingers and sour feeling in his stomach. He closed his eyes and took long deep breaths trying to even out the panic he was feeling. This is the fifth time he has jolted awake in as many days. Sleep is so hard to come by as of late, but he never rises easily anymore. As his skin begins to cool and his mind begins to go sleep fogged again, he lays down onto his back again and lets the slumber take him away. The worries that have been plaguing him are not gone, but he has decided to push them away for now. Focus on the cold, focus on the dark, focus on the empty. He returns back to the mostly evasive dreamland until it's time to pick up his jolted mistress later in the early morning. Bitch won't let sleeping dogs lie.


 "You really don't look like you've been sleeping well Derek," Deaton mentions to him while packing up his medical bag with the supplies he used to examine Derek just moments earlier. He gives him one last long look, waiting for a response, which Alpha boy will never give him. He abandons the fight and pulls his bag over his shoulder before exiting the dank room he was calling his living room. Derek has no more answers now then he had earlier in the day when he called the good Vet and asked him to come by and examine him. The only thing he got was a prescription for a sleep aid to give to his nonexistent dog. He must make sure Stiles never finds out about this, or the dog jokes will never cease. But at least tonight he will sleep like a babe. 


Nobody ever called Derek a lucky man. Shit doesn't come easily to him. So why would he believe that something like a good nights rest would be a thing he could attain? It wasn't in his cards to get the things he most needed. What made him think drugs would do the trick? Silly wolf. He took four times the dose of sleep aid to be rewarded with a fit of the shakes, a pounding headache and double the amount of sweat leaking out of his hair, armpits and rolling down his back. This was the worst night of his whole life. Restless and tired, but no closer to an easy peace. He decided to throw in the towel and get out of bed. Perhaps if he overworked his mind it would force the sleep to come. 

His plan was to read. Something he did a majority of the time. He walked to his footlocker and squatted down searching to the bottom for the box his father made for him when he was five. It was inside a pillowcase nestled in the corner. He unwrapped it slowly. Inside were the few prized possessions he had left of his family. Things that had no significance to anyone but him. He took everything out of the box and lined up his nicknacks into a pattern. This was his ritual. He had to make sure each treasure was perfectly distanced from the previous and he would fidget with them until a wave of contentment came over him. His wolf was centered and calmed. 

The last thing in the box was his Mother's journal. It was old. She started writing in it when she was thirteen. She didn't run out of pages until half way through her twenty-second year. She didn't write in it everyday, although she tried to when she first got it. She would sometimes abandon the diary for months on end, then find it and write for a few days before losing interest again. But she always came back. She started drawing and pasting interesting things into the journal when she was sixteen. It evolved with her age. It was the most personal thing Derek retained of his family. It was the single most important thing he owned. He's read it so many times he's lost count. It is the thing he does when he is sad or happy. When he is troubled or sleepless. He comes back to it during all seasons of emotion. He looks for answers to questions he didn't know he had. It is his safe house. His Mother's words, her penmanship, her dreams and thoughts. Her histories and love stories. A piece of her soul. A piece of his soul as well. His communion with the book is on the level with some peoples spirituality. He may not believe in God, but he believes in this thing that he can touch and smell and see.  

Derek's mother was destined to be an Alpha. She realized this when she seventeen. Her alpha was her Uncle and he never took a mate or bred more weres. She was the youngest of her siblings. She grew up thinking either her brother Peter or her Sister Esther were next in line. But her Uncle always showed favoritism toward her. It dawned on her when he gifted her the family library on her seventeenth birthday that the legacy would pass to her when the time came. It took her months to read through the books he gave her. Her favorite of them was an old, shiny green leather bound book called The Gleaning. She refers to it dozens of times during her seventeenth and eighteenth year. She says the secrets to her legacy and all her dreams lie in this book. It makes Derek long and mourn that the book was lost in the fire. He would give limbs to know it's secrets. His wolf is longing for knowledge. Derek turns to the ribbon holding his place from the last time he had read the journal. He reads about his parents courtship. She wrote in the book a lot during this chapter of her life. He obsessively returns to one entry she wrote after she had married Derek's father, talking about the "dream" being the defining moment of her life. Derek's wolf somersaults at the word. 


A dream would be greatly welcomed right now. But to dream would require sleep. A luxury Derek hasn't the wealth for. He fell asleep for almost two hours last night, but was jolted awake by a violent dream involving a maritime shipwreck. He was able to get some rest, albeit, no sleep earlier in the day when his pack of betas came by and they had a nap cuddle fest in the living room. He shut his eyes and stilled himself, calm flushing over him as he heard the inhales and exhales of his wolves and humans having cat naps next to him. He let those sounds build in his chest until Boyd got up and announced he was leaving to go get happy hour wings at the diner. Most of the pack up and left within the hour and he was catapulted back into his uneasiness. The only one that stayed was Stiles, and he fidgeted and bounced off everything like he usually does. Not sure if his conversation actually was going anywhere, he let Stiles babble on and it helped to soothe the sleep deprivation until the wiry kid left mumbling something about midterms.


There was a dull pain in Derek's head. He had laid himself in the center of his bed, taking deep breaths. In and out, in and out. He could barely hear his own heartbeat. There was something wrong, something different. He couldn't open his eyes. He had no energy left. He felt a cloud of white noise cover him. He was drifting off….but this wasn't sleep. It was something else. He was shaking. He could feel his body convulsing. He was seizing, violently slapping his body against the palette underneath him. He had no control over his limbs. It felt like an earthquake in his blood. There was a blackness surrounding him.

Then he stilled.

There was only darkness. A black as pitch emptiness. Had he died? Had his body given away to the stress? He felt a calmness now. In his life, that was so out of control, he never felt this calm. But the calm was then replaced with a euphoria. And the euphoria was surrounded by a light. The luminescence dimmed, his eyes were adjusting. He searched his surroundings and discerned where he was. This wasn't an afterlife, this was his house. His house when he was a child. He recognized the rocking chair his Mother always sat in. The crocheted blanket that his Grandmother made was laying draped across the stiff couch. He loved that couch. His eyes went to the clock on the wall. It was 1pm. That can't be right. It was nighttime when he laid down. 

Then a noise spooked Derek. It was coming from the breakfast nook. He heard a woman's voice. She was cursing. Derek could hear her heartbeat. It was fast, like she had startled herself. It started to slow, and get closer. He followed the sound and started walking towards the door, but before he could reach it, the door swung open and through it appeared...His Mother. Her scent punching him in the gut. 

"M-mom. Mommy…Is that you?" He hadn't called her 'Mommy' since he was a child.  

"Of coarse it's me Der, who else would I be? No shifter would be able to duplicate my magnificent scent!" She rolls her eyes and grabs his face and places a quick kiss on his jaw. 

"Wow, you've gotten big!" She is amused by his facial expression. "You haven't changed. You can still tell a story with your eyebrows and pout. You emote so much without saying anything, my lovely Boy," she remarks to him without breaking his gaze. His mouth had dropped and tears were swelling in his eyes. He didn't know where to begin, but he knew he had so much to say to her.


"This is your Alpha Dream, my Love." She smiles the Hale smile that Derek will never be tired of seeing, all teeth.  "You would have had it earlier, but you weren't ready yet." Answering the question that was written across his face. 

"Every Alpha has one to set them upon their path. It's a right of passage to become leader," she says.

"It will put you on your coarse to become the Alpha you were meant to be. It will show you your way." She pets Derek's hair, cupping his cheek, then setting her hand against his left breast. She is wearing her wedding ring. He rubs his thumb over it. The ring Derek keeps locked away forever in his trunk. Laura had gotten it back after they removed it from her charred hand.  His eyes turn sad at remembering its current state located in his Father's box. 

"And by showing me my way…my path…it is showing me you? In my past?" Derek asks with a look of confusion.  

"Your Alpha dream is conforming to your mind. It is showing you what you would be most comfortable seeing. That just happens to be the time when you were happiest in your life. To show you the comfort of home, pack, Alpha, Mother. It is your mind convincing you that you are safe so you may accept the vision that you need. What your wolf needs." 

The realization hits Derek like a 2x4 to the gut. This isn't real. This is just a figment of his imagination. But why does it have to feel so real? Why does the vision of his Mother have to smell like his Mother? Like burnt sandalwood and clove. She smells amazing. Derek gulps down the saliva that is overrunning his mouth. She looks up at him reading his body language, sensing his revelation. 

"There is so much you should have known. It was a failure on my end by not preparing you better. Your Laura was always destined to be Alpha. But I should have taught you both the same. In case the day ever came. Because the day indeed came." She looks to the bookshelf across the room. His eyes follow her path, he sees the Hale library. Rows and rows of books on Lycanthropy. His missing links. Everything that burned all those years ago, and with it the knowledge he needs to lead his pack of misfits. 

"The Gleaning would have prepared you. The way it did me…for what was expected. It taught me how I was supposed to lead." He sees it sitting on the second shelf, all green and shiny. It makes his mouth water. He wants to touch it and run his fingers down the spine. He is craving it all the way to his bones.  

"Your wolf is crying. He is incomplete. He is howling and you can't hear him," she tells him. 

"What is he saying?" Derek humors her. She looks at him for a long time, trying to figure out what she needs to tell him. 

"He's saying…He wants….Your wolf will only be at it's strongest when you mate. When you find your missing puzzle piece. You will only thrive and lead your pack when you have your mate there to hold you up. Until you claim your mate, your wolf will be restless. He will know no peace. You will struggle and fail." She delivers the words fast, like a person would rip off a plaster. He has a sick feeling in his stomach. The words set in. 

"You were not meant to lead my son. You will only be complete when you find the moon within you." The Moon Within Her. The poem his Father wrote for his Mother to woo her. He always said she was the moon in the sky. She always said he was moon within her. Her mate and the part of her that made her whole. He understands.

"But what if I can't find them? What if I am not meant to cross paths with them yet?" Derek takes a deep breath. He feels the wolf within him shaking. His mother widens her eyes at the realization that he doesn't know.

 "Oh my Love. You are having your Alpha dream because your wolf recognizes your mate. You have already met. You already know. Your wolf has already seized claim. You are just blind to it." What is this craziness she is bleeding out? The only thought running through his mind….Who?

 "How will I know Mom? Who is it?" Derek searches for the answer, but the sick feeling just continues to rise within him. He has no clue.

"Close your eyes." She places her thumbs, pointing them towards each other, over Derek's eyes. "Clear your mind. Let your wolf come to the periphery….Who in your life makes you crazy and anxious? Who challenges you and doesn't let you off easy? Who calms you and comforts you? Who makes your blood run hot and whose touch makes your wolf yelp with content?" Derek's mind forms an image. He sees a body, a movement, a secret memory usually buried in the deep. 

"Whose face do you see?" Derek's eyes jolt open, mouth slack jawed. 

"No! I don't believe it."  He bellows at her. This isn't happening. This is a sick joke his mind is playing on him. His wolf is a trickster.

"Your wolf wouldn't lie to you. He knows what he wants, what he needs. This is your answer, and it is your destiny. Don't reject your wolf. He can only be given once and he has made his choice." She pauses. She has to say what will make him understand. 

"It was the same with your Father." Derek jerks his eyes toward her, staring intently into her. "My Alpha dream showed me my future. With your Father, your Sister, and you. I saw you. I was headed on another path, but my wolf showed me my life. She cried out for YOU. I couldn't turn my back on her." Derek's heart pangs. Skips and jumps at her words. He hears the truth in her words, but he feels the guilt radiate through him.

 "What if you had though? What if you had gone down the other path, lived your life not based on a dream? You would still be alive." She looks saddened by this. What goes through his dense mind sometimes. Derek Hale: forever enslaved to his martyrdom. Silly boy. 

"No Derek! There was never another option. It may not have been what I wanted, but my wolf wanted it. And she was right." She takes his hand again. "Listen to your heart. Open it up and let your wolf bask in his Moon." Derek leans onto her shoulder. He knows she is right. His wolf is a fickle bitch.

His whole body is accepting her words. Imprinting them to his soul. He wants to find his moon. He wants his mate. He wants to be the leader his pack needs. He wants what his Mother had. He wants to honor his Mother and her legacy. He wants to bury himself in this feeling that is washing over him. They sit for a while, saying nothing. Derek listens to her steady heartbeat. He could put a metronome next to her and she wouldn't falter in matching it. The sweet sound of love in steady beats.

"Are you going?" he asks after she starts to stir, moving away. 

"Yes, Darling. I'm off now. I said what I came to say. I set you on your path. My work is done." Derek's face goes white. He can't let her leave yet. 

"I'm not ready for you to go. You just got here and I've missed you." She breaths out a small sigh and runs her hand down his cheek. 

"I'm always with you. I'm always right here with you. I'm not going away." She pulls his head to her shoulder. "I guess no harm in sitting here for a bit." 

He grips onto her. Her emoting heaviness lulling him in. A silence envelops him. He falls. Falls. Falls. Until he is awoken. He has slept through the night. 



6:03 am His headache has vanished. The panic, the unease has faded. He feels rested and better than he's ever felt. His mind is filled with the memories of his dream. They felt so real. The constant memory of his revelation. His wolf sighs. He knows. He's always known. He was just never ready to admit it to himself. 

So where is he supposed to go from here? There are no books on how to claim your mate. No books on how to have the most awkward conversation of your life. To proclaim love to someone you didn't really even know you liked. Damn wolf. Fucker. He hears the uptick, his heart skips a beat. Maybe that's what they really mean when people say 'my heart skipped a beat'. It's really just the uptick of the lie finally being acknowledged. Of coarse, he's in love. Of coarse he always knew. He rolls his eyes. His wolf sings in contentment. 

6:37 am Derek gets out of bed. Walks to the bathroom. Showers. Spends far too long taming the wolf. He really is a fucker. Of coarse now that he's claimed his mate in his heart, he's going to be plagued with endless dirty thoughts about mating. About flesh, naked flesh, moans, sweat, salt, hair, muscles moving beneath him. He has to wank twice. Asshole. The wolf is mischievous. 

He dresses quickly. If he hurries he can make it to the diner for breakfast. Heavens knows he's not delivering this proclamation on an empty stomach. And he's not waiting or he will lose his nerves. He's going to march right up to the door and spill his guts. The damn wolf is now laughing at him. Derek almost can't wait to give the fucker away. 

8:41am Derek pulls slowly up to the curb. Most of the street have already left for work. Kids are making their way to school. Derek looks at the house. Takes a deep breath. He can hear only one heartbeat inside the house. He sees his mates car in the driveway. He knows that this is the right time. He gets out of the car. Takes several more deep breaths. Rounds the front of his car and walks up the sidewalk. Slow steps. Sure steps. The wolf is buzzing inside his head. He's circling him, making him dizzy, nipping his heels in excitement. Settle the fuck down! He takes the steps up to the door. One by one, like a toddler. 

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. He reaches up, makes a fist. Hovers over the door for longer than he should. There is a split second where he knows he's stalling. The wolf smirks. He closes his eyes. He inhales one last time, his nostrils flair like it's his last breath. He knocks and holds his breath.

The fucking world stops. His wolf is howling. He is seeing stars. The door opens….

"We-llllll good morning, Sourwolf," Stiles is beaming with a smile he's never seen before in a tone that is far too chipper for the time of day. "What brings you here so early? You look grumpier than usual." He flashes teeth and his mouth smirks up and it's all Derek can do not to throw his head back and actually howl. His wolf is satisfied. 

March 2016

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