Chapter Text
When Stiles’ alarm went off at exactly four minutes past seven, bleary eyes opened slowly, taking a few seconds to focus before he inhaled deeply and buried his face in his—thankfully dry—pillow. No drool from him last night, score.
He reached out with one hand, slapping at his phone until he found it, and then tapping insistently all around until it finally went quiet. He could hear sounds of life outside, birds chirping, some cars passing on the main road close to the dorm, movement in the corridor from people heading to and from the bathroom.
Staying where he was for a few seconds longer, he finally sighed and let his head turn to the side, falling back down fully on his pillow and looking across the room as his empty desk chair.
It had been two weeks since the incident with Julia, and some days when he woke up, he wondered if it was truly a new day, or if he was just stuck in another unknown time loop again. He was pretty sure he wasn’t, but he’d never know, honestly. Not until he went to bed at night and didn’t get murdered.
He hadn’t known what would happen after he’d gone off with the local police to discuss the events of the evening. They’d taken his statement, even though the whole thing was staged and they knew as much as they needed to, but he knew it was procedure. Another agent called Kincaid had come in to ask some questions as well for the FBI’s side of the investigation before leaving.
Stiles hadn’t seen Derek again that night, but he hadn’t thought much of it. He’d assumed he’d see him again eventually. Maybe before he left, or around campus as they made their public announcements about having caught the serial killer. Because Julia had been the serial killer, it had just taken them a long time to finally catch her.
Longer than even Rafe knew, considering.
Honestly, Stiles had felt bad for Jennifer Blake’s husband. He’d tried not to listen to the news much, since he had enough going on without that nightmare reliving itself, but every snippet he caught said she was a well-liked, kind woman before the accident. Stiles hated that Julia’s vengeful spirit had inhabited the body of a kind woman and turned everyone against her.
Wherever Jennifer Blake’s spirit was, Stiles hoped she’d found some peace.
More peace than Stiles had, anyway. He’d remembered more and more of the loops as the days had passed. Mostly dreams that he woke up from in a panic, but sometimes they would hit during random trigger words, too.
It was alarming to realize how few of them actually had Derek in them, in the grand scheme of things. Julia really had been reliving the same day for months before Derek’s introduction into the loop. They might not have spent a lot of time together, considering, but the more Stiles remembered of their six weeks trying to solve his murder, the more he missed him.
Derek had just... left. After everything had happened, he’d just gotten on a plane and flown back to wherever the fuck his field office was. He hadn’t said a word to Stiles, hadn’t tried to contact him, hadn’t said goodbye. Nothing. He was there, and then he was gone.
Stiles sometimes wondered if it was because it hurt Derek to see someone he knew but didn’t know him all the time. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been having to re-explain everything over and over again. And Stiles was a dick sometimes, Christ. Even he could acknowledge that, considering some of the memories he was getting.
He felt guilty about it, even though he couldn’t control it. Or erase the past.
Still, he wished Derek had said something to him. Considering he now remembered a lot of their time together, if Derek had stayed, they could’ve talked about it. They could’ve... he didn’t know, but he’d have wanted to help Derek through this weird phase of their friendship.
Or not friendship. Stiles didn’t know. He definitely remembered the loop where they kissed, and was actually quite pissed when he woke up gasping for air, realizing that was the loop where he’d been poisoned. What a shitty way to ruin a hot makeout session.
Not that he thought they’d be making out again any time soon, though he was hopeful they would, considering, but it was weird to realize how many times he’d met Derek, and was only now remembering them.
And he couldn’t believe why. He still wasn’t sure how much he trusted what he’d discovered about why he’d suddenly started remembering the loops. He also couldn’t fully recognize how many he’d remembered during the loops, so it was hard to be sure of what had actually changed to have him remember.
Because the dreams never came linearly, it was hard for him to figure out a pattern, or discern what might’ve happened to cause the memories to stick around, so he was just left with guesswork and other people’s theories.
Top of his list was his magic being an asshole again. It often was.
His alarm went off again, the snooze having expired, and he sighed before reaching out to shut it off again, then threw his covers off himself and climbed out of bed. He didn’t have much time to get ready before his English composition class, and he was already behind. Not that he cared, that course was fucking useless.
Still, he had to go. He had a GPA to maintain and whatever.
Grabbing his toiletries, he made his way down the corridor to the communal bathroom, relieving himself and brushing his teeth so he could get squared away for the day. Once he was as good as he was going to get, he went back to his room and changed out into regular clothes.
He pulled a Starbucks iced coffee drink from his mini fridge and shoved it into his messenger bag before hoisting it over his shoulder. Making sure he had everything, he locked up behind himself and headed down the back way out of the dorm.
Taking his time getting to his class, as if walking slowly enough would magically have it cancelled for the day, he arrived in time to snag one of the last good seats near the middle so he wasn’t stuck at the front. He only sat there in classes he liked.
Criminology being a prime example.
After many more minutes than he felt like he could handle, Stiles having spent a majority of his English composition class Googling on his phone and texting Scott links—because he couldn’t Google shit apparently, Stiles didn’t know—the class finally ended and they were dismissed. He grabbed his messenger bag after shoving his phone back into his pocket, and picked up his glass Starbucks drink, finding it almost empty. It made sense, he’d been drinking it all through class.
Tossing it out in one of the designated glass recycling spots—though he knew this place did not recycle—he headed for his criminology course, wondering what they’d be moving into today. They’d just finished one of the more robust chapters in their book, and the professor’s lesson plans were always interesting, so he was looking forward to it.
Even though every time he went to that class, it made him think of Derek. It was where they’d met, after all.
Well, he thought it was, anyway. It seemed to be the most logical place, despite the lack of linear memories.
He was one of the first ones who walked into class, and he was only one row down from the door at the back of the auditorium when he froze.
There were three people standing at the front of the class with his professor, all of them appearing to be having a genial conversation. The woman was laughing, at any rate, and while the two men weren’t, they looked amused.
Someone cleared their throat behind Stiles and he hastily started down the stairs towards the front, where his usual seat was, eyes locked on one of the men standing with his professor.
He had no idea why, but for some wild moment, Stiles was wondering if Derek had forgotten him. If his own memory had been reset somehow, and everything they’d been through together was long gone.
How ironic if Derek lost all of his memories from the time loop just as Stiles gained them all.
He sat down, almost missing the seat entirely, eyes still locked on Derek, and he felt his heart give a happy little flip in his chest when the other man’s gaze left his professor’s face for a split second to glance over at Stiles.
“Hey Stiles.”
Stiles almost hit Heather in the face with his flailing. She gave him a weird look as she took her usual spot on his left side.
“Are you okay? You’ve been extra jumpy lately.”
“Well, you know, someone tried to kill me,” Stiles said easily, turning back to Derek, but he was focussed on the professor again.
“Right. Sorry.”
Blinking in confusion, Stiles turned back to Heather, and realized she felt guilty for her words.
“Oh, no! No, it’s fine, I wasn’t—don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean it that way,” he insisted, offering her a smile and nudging her arm. She managed a small smile back, pulling her laptop out of her bag.
Stiles looked back at the agents. “Hey, do you know what’s going on?”
“Right, you missed class that day,” Heather said, getting her stuff set up. “You know that one class last month where we were meant to have the FBI come by? Well, they didn’t show, presumably because of the whole serial killer thing, so I’m guessing the professor reached out again to ask for them to come in.”
“Oh.” Stiles didn’t know what else to say.
Had he been hoping Derek was there to see him? Well, kind of, yeah. Knowing it was just about the class made him wonder if the guy would beeline for the exit as soon as it was over.
Stiles wouldn’t let him, he wanted to talk. They had—things. To discuss. Many things.
What those things were, he could only really think of one, but he was sure he’d find more!
“All right, everyone. Settle down. Settle down, please.” The professor was clapping his hands loudly at the front of the large hall, calling them all to order. Stiles took his notebook out, but honestly wasn’t sure he’d use it.
He’d be too busy trying to have a telepathic conversation with Derek, who seemed determined not to look at him.
What a jerk.
“As some of you may recall, we were meant to have guests a few weeks ago, but that kind of fell through due to extenuating circumstances. I couldn’t find a good time slot to fit them back in until recently, so I reached out and was lucky enough to get a positive response. Please, join me in welcoming the FBI.”
When he started clapping, the class obediently followed suit. He noticed a few girls making eyes at Derek and Stiles scowled, annoyed despite himself.
“Good morning,” Derek said loudly when the clapping had finally died down. “Thank you for having us today, professor. I am Supervisory Special Agent Hale.”
Wait, supervisory? Stiles had heard that correctly, hadn’t he? But if that was Derek’s role, where was Rafe?
He honestly missed the introduction of the other two, though he recognize the other man as Agent Kincaid from his final brush with death. The woman he didn’t know, and hadn’t caught her name. She looked really young though, so good for her! She may have been there the last time, but he hadn’t spent a lot of time with anyone other than Derek.
It was hard to pay attention and take notes on what they were saying, since he was horrendously distracted by Derek. Even when he wasn’t talking, and was just standing a little ways back with his arms crossed as one of his colleagues spoke, a small scowl on his face, he still looked perfect.
Stiles still found it so weird how he knew so much about Derek when he honestly shouldn’t. It felt almost invasive that he’d learned it all through weird dreams of the days he was stuck in the loop. He wondered if Derek felt that way, too. Maybe it was just as weird for him. Hell, he’d admitted in one of the loops that he liked Stiles, and there was no way that was an easy discovery, considering.
Their entire friendship was so horrifically messed up, and it kind of sucked. He didn’t want this to be how things went with them, he wanted them to actually talk. Figure this out, move forward. Not necessarily forget the past and how they ended up this way, but not dwell on it, either.
When class was over, people clapped again, though more enthusiastically this time after a good lesson and started packing up. Stiles saw Derek making a beeline for the door and felt his heart drop.
“Don’t.”
It was all he said, and it wasn’t even loud enough for Heather to hear over the chatter around them, but Derek paused and tilted his head slightly. For a second, he didn’t move, then his shoulders seemed to sag and he motioned the door with one hand, not looking at Stiles. He was clearly saying he’d meet him out in the corridor so the class could clear out for the next lesson.
Stiles didn’t waste any time, shoving all his things into his messenger bag and barely remembering to say bye to Heather before hurrying for the door. When he got into the corridor, he was annoyed to find some of his classmates were hovering around all the agents, chatting with them and asking questions. Most of the ones around Derek were girls, but Stiles wasn’t exactly surprised. He was a good looking guy.
He lingered for about five minutes before realizing this was not going to go quickly, so he just sighed and caught Derek’s eye through the students.
“I’ll wait in front of the library.”
Derek gave him the smallest of nods and Stiles turned away so he could head down the corridor. When he reached the stairs, he spoke again, very quietly, but he knew Derek would hear him.
“Don’t run off on me again.”
Then he pushed through the door leading to the stairs and headed down them to the first floor.
Stiles was sitting on the same step he had been two weeks ago when Julia had tried to blow his brains out and finally been thwarted. He wasn’t in the middle of the stairs leading up this time, since it was the middle of the day and people would get annoyed, but he was over on the left side, staring out at all the people walking by. Some of them were rushing, obviously late for class or between classes depending on the time since he hadn’t checked it in a while. Others were just walking along leisurely, joking and laughing and talking about nothing of importance.
He just watched them, messenger bag in his lap, and arms crossed over his knees. He knew he could pull out his phone and browse the internet, but he didn’t want to. So many people spent their time looking at their phones instead of paying attention to the people around them, and it made him sad sometimes. Relationships required effort, and he couldn’t count the number of times he’d been hanging out with Scott where his friend just spent the whole time texting people on his phone.
Jackson was probably the only friend he had who didn’t do that. Well, and Derek. If they were even still friends.
If they ever had been.
He didn’t know how long he sat waiting, but eventually, he caught sight of someone heading towards him across the courtyard. The guy stuck out like a sore thumb, considering the suit he was wearing. He looked really good in it though, Stiles wished he could pull off a suit half as well.
Derek took his time walking towards him. Stiles couldn’t tell if he was just apprehensive about this whole thing, or still trying to figure out whether to turn tail and run. Thankfully, he didn’t. He just kept heading over to him until he finally stopped at the bottom of the stairs, right in front of Stiles, hands shoved into the pockets of his very nice pants.
“Supervisory Special Agent Hale, huh?”
Derek managed a small smile and inclined his head. “I got promoted last week.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
Silence.
“What about Rafe, then?”
Derek inhaled deeply, kind of like a backwards sigh, then looked around them, as if checking for eavesdroppers. No one was really paying them any attention.
“Officially, he’s on a leave of absence for personal reasons.”
Stiles hummed once. “And unofficially?”
Derek looked back at him. “He was forced into rehab. It was that, or lose his job entirely.”
“Damn,” Stiles said. “They don’t hold back at the FBI.”
“Well, Hayden almost died because he was too drunk to make a good call.”
“Hayden is the woman with you?” Stiles asked. Derek nodded, so Stiles mirrored him. “Sorry. She doing okay?”
“She’s fine.”
“Doesn’t look like someone who almost died.” Stiles half-smiled. “You save her too?”
“I’ve had a lot of practice at being a good bodyguard.”
Stiles actually laughed at that, because damn if that wasn’t the truth. Poor Derek, having to contend with Stiles for all those loops, trying to keep him alive. The fact that he’d failed so many times wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t known the full picture yet. He’d saved him in the end, so that was the important thing.
They were both silent for a few seconds after Stiles’ laughter calmed down, then Derek hesitated briefly before finally pulling his hands out of his pockets and moving to sit beside Stiles on the stairs, looking out at the people passing them.
“You’re going to get your pants dirty,” Stiles said lamely.
“I’ve had worse on this suit.”
Stiles glanced at him, and wondered if it was the same suit he’d been wearing during the loop. It was blue, but like, there were hundreds of blue suits in the world, and it wasn’t like Stiles was an expert on different cuts so he had no idea if this was the same suit or not.
“I remember what happened,” he said instead of asking, looking back out at the people. He felt more than saw Derek jerk beside him, but the Werewolf didn’t say anything, letting Stiles continue. “Not everything, exactly. And definitely not in order. But... I remember. Sometimes more than I’d like.” Stiles glanced down at his hands, picking at the cuticles on his left thumb and pulling until he felt pain and blood welled up. Damn it, he’d need to put a bandaid on that later.
“From before I was in the loop?” Derek asked softly. It was always weird hearing him speak like this, his voice was so gruff and commanding, but he could be so soft sometimes. His gooey interior definitely didn’t match his outward appearance. If he changed into jeans and a leather jacket, he’d look like the kind of bad boy mothers would shoo their daughters away from. In the suit, he looked respectable, but still imposing and authoritative.
God, he was such a confusing contradiction.
“Yeah,” Stiles finally said. “I try not to focus on those ones much. I usually try and stay in the moment when I see you’re in the memory-vision thing. I don’t think I’ve got forty of them, but I’ve gotten a few.”
“Which ones?”
The way Derek asked the question had Stiles turn to him. He was trying to look indifferent, but Stiles could see the pulse in his neck jumping. It was obvious he was asking that question to find out if Stiles had seen a specific loop. While he didn’t know if the one he was thinking was the right one—namely, the one where they kissed before he was rudely interrupted by being poisoned—he felt that was probably a safe bet.
Looking back out at the crowd, he said, “I think your mom is right. About names, I mean. I might not know the order of things, but it seems like everything changed after I told you how to pronounce it.”
He both felt and saw the full body sag from beside him, like Derek had been carrying a weight on his shoulders for months and was finally being allowed to put it down.
“I talked to her about it,” he admitted. “I noticed the change happened after that loop, too.”
“I thought at first that maybe it was because we like, had a nice, long chat, got to know each other, admitted some things.” Stiles shrugged. “But the more I looked into it, the more I realized that names really do have power. I gave you mine, and you repeated it. And then I said yours. I think... maybe the whole reason the loops were happening with you in the first place was because my magic always knew you’d be the one to save me.”
“You got all that from names?” Derek asked, a smile in his tone.
Stiles was quiet for a long while, not sure he wanted to talk about this with Derek yet. He’d done a lot of research about this whole thing since Derek had run away, and he’d had a lot of time to think. He just didn’t know how Derek would take it.
And he didn’t blame Derek for running, either. He was trying to protect himself. Anybody would’ve run, including Stiles. Didn’t mean he liked it, but hopefully he could make him stick around this time.
Not indefinitely, the dude had a job, but maybe... not cut off all contact. Stiles wasn’t going to be in school forever, and he was sure he could find a job closer to where Derek lived. If that was what Derek wanted.
Stiles already knew it was what he wanted, given all the time he’d had to think about it.
“I looked into things after you left,” he finally said, still not looking at Derek, even though he could tell the other man’s eyes were locked on his profile. “Mostly about the time loop, which I couldn’t find much about, but also just... weird things. About us. About my magic, and why it chose you, and why I can remember the loop when I couldn’t originally.” He shrugged one shoulder, then leaned forward a bit more so he was resting his chin on his arms, still hugging his knees. His messenger bag was digging into his middle uncomfortably, but he didn’t mind. It was a good distraction.
“I think it’s important to note that the loop started the day I met you. I know you weren’t in it from the beginning, but the fact that Julia showed up that day to kill me, and you and I met and bonded over the whole Bunyip situation always kind of struck me as odd. I know why the loop happened with Julia, since obviously it was my magic attempting to save me, but I couldn’t figure out why it didn’t just... give me the memory, you know?” He glanced at Derek out of the corner of his eye. “I was the one dying, I was the one it was happening to, so why not just put me in the loop? It’s the most logical thing to do.”
Sighing and leaning back, Stiles rested his elbows on the step above him instead, face skyward. The clouds were moving relatively fast, but none of them were darkening so it didn’t look like there would be any rain tonight.
“I thought about it for a long time. When I wasn’t doing research, or homework. When I wasn’t in class. All I did was try and figure out what my magic was doing, and why it decided to bring you in when you were finally there at a time where it could. And after a while... I think I figured it out.”
“You did?” Derek asked. He sounded deadpan, but Stiles saw the confusion on his face when he glanced over at him again.
“Yeah. You see, I’m a pretty independent person.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Derek said dryly. Stiles half-smiled at that.
“Jerk.” He nudged him slightly with his knee, then looked up again. He realized he risked being pooped on by a bird, but that was true regardless of whether he was looking up or not. At least looking up, he’d have a chance to dodge it.
“So what did you figure out?” Derek prompted after a few seconds of silence.
“It would’ve been different,” Stiles admitted quietly. “If it was me, I mean. If I was the one to remember. I wouldn’t have gone to class. I wouldn’t have met you. I would’ve just... stayed in the dorm, gone to the police, done everything in my power to avoid being killed. I never would have met you. Or rather, you never would’ve met me. Because after day zero, I wouldn’t ever have gone back to class, and wouldn’t have made the effort to meet you all over again.” He glanced at Derek then, out of the corner of his eye. “Having it be you meant we couldn’t escape each other. You’re too noble to let me die, so you’d come find me, no matter what, every single loop. And you did. My magic knew the only way to make sure we always met, no matter what, was for it to be you. It just needed to wait for you to show up in time to pull you into the loop.”
Derek was silent for a long while as he thought. Stiles could understand, he’d thought about it a lot too, he’d just had the luxury of having more time to think about it.
“Why did it matter so much for us to meet?” Derek asked, genuinely curious. “What did our meeting do?”
“Well, I’m a great kisser, for one thing,” Stiles informed him and Derek snorted. He followed that up with a look, since it was obvious Stiles was stalling with humour. Sighing and conceding defeat, he looked back up at the sky. “Like I said, I did a lot of research after everything happened. I even reached out to Marin Morrell.”
“Really?” Derek sounded surprised.
“Yeah. She wasn’t super interested in speaking to me at first, but when I told her everything that had happened, her interest was piqued and she started talking to other people, asking around. I’m pretty sure she emailed your mom.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I have an email chain that she forwarded to me between herself and someone called Talia Hale. I mean, I know Hale is a common name, but the chances of it being another Werewolf seemed a bit slimmer.” He looked over at Derek. “So?”
“That’s my mom,” he said, sounding stunned, and almost betrayed. “How come she didn’t tell me?”
“Did you tell her about the time loop? Aside from when you called her originally that last loop, I mean.”
“Not really,” Derek admitted. “She never asked me about it again.”
“Maybe she wanted you to bring it up first.” Stiles shrugged and pushed up so he was sitting up properly again. “Either way, they had a long back and forth discussion about it, and the names having power thing came up. She said something... kind of interesting.”
Stiles stopped here, Derek watching him. When he raised his eyebrows and motioned for Stiles to continue, he hesitated. Now Derek looked annoyed.
“You realize I can just ask my mom what she said, right?”
“You could, but then you’d have to explain why you were asking.”
Derek seemed to take that for the empty threat it was, because he pulled his phone out and, without breaking eye contact with Stiles, he scrolled through his contacts and dialled out. Stiles was kind of impressed he’d managed to do that without looking.
He didn’t put the phone to his ear, though. He just put it on speaker. Stiles found that to be brave, considering they were out in public, but then again, it was obvious no one was listening to them. They were all too busy doing their own thing.
“Hi sweetie.”
Stiles didn’t know what he’d expected Derek’s mother to sound like, but somehow, it wasn’t this. She sounded so... mom-like. Her voice was smooth and rich, and somehow reminded him of Derek, but there was authority in there too.
“Hi mom. You’re on speakerphone. I’m here with someone I think you might have met in passing. Or at least, spoken to or about in passing.”
A brief silence.
“The one Marin emailed me about. Stiles.”
“Hello,” he said obediently, because his parents had taught him manners.
“Hello Stiles. I was wondering when I would get this call,” she admitted, her tone fond. When she continued, it was evident she was speaking to Derek. “I remember you mentioning a time loop a few weeks ago. I thought you were overworked, but when Marin contacted me and showed me her emails with Stiles, I realized perhaps not as overworked as I had first assumed.”
“No,” Derek agreed.
“You broke out of it, though.”
“I did. Well, it was mostly Stiles’ idea.”
“It was entirely my idea,” Stiles insisted, shoving him lightly. The guy didn’t even move. Fucking Werewolves.
“It might’ve been entirely his idea,” Derek corrected.
“I’m glad,” Mrs. Hale said, a smile still in her voice. “I imagine you’re calling about my response. What I said about why the loop is leaking into Stiles’ mind.”
“He won’t tell me what it is.”
“Perhaps he still doesn’t believe it entirely himself.”
“It’s not that,” Stiles said quietly, though it may have been partially that. He was sure she’d hear him no matter how quiet he was, so it wasn’t like he could escape this. “It’s just... a lot. I don’t know if he’ll believe me.”
“Stiles, my son is a Werewolf,” Mrs. Hale said, laughing slightly. Stiles tilted his head to make sure no one was close enough to hear them, but Derek didn’t look concerned so they were probably fine. “You would be amazed at the things he’s seen in his life. And after living in a time loop with you for an extended period of time, do you honestly believe he wouldn’t trust this to be true?”
Stiles shrugged, even though he knew she couldn’t see him. She seemed to understand the silence just fine either way.
“Names have power. I’ve always said this to you, to your sisters,” she said, back to addressing Derek. “But names have more power when they’re tethered to magic. As I understand it, Stiles has magic, and if his parents knew this, it explains why they gave him a name that wouldn’t be easy to pronounce. At least, not in North America.” She sounded amused now, and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh a bit. She wasn’t wrong. Stiles had family in Europe, and they could say his name just fine, especially when he was in trouble.
But maybe that was the point. His mother was the one who’d wanted to name him after his grandfather, even while knowing he’d rarely see his family in Europe since they lived in the US. He’d spent his whole childhood being called Stiles, even Scott couldn’t pronounce his name properly. If he tried, Stiles was sure he’d get it eventually, but overall he was just Stiles to people. No one called him Mieczyslaw except his dad, and only when Stiles was in danger-levels of trouble with the man.
“Having magic like his, old magic, and a name like he does, means that he would only share it with people he trusts. And he trusted you, so he shared it with you.”
“Technically, I asked.”
“He didn’t have to answer. He chose to. He gave you his name, and you kept it safe. You protected him, and cared about him, and tried to save him over and over again. Someone you didn’t know, not at first. Someone whose trust you earned, and whom you trusted in return. Someone who fits.”
Derek’s eyes had slowly started to widen the more his mother spoke, and by the last sentence, his head whipped around to look at Stiles. Stiles just pressed his lips together and shrugged in response.
“Are you telling me the reason this all happened is because Stiles is my mate?” Derek blurted out, looking at his phone again, adorably confused.
Well, he wasn’t horrified, angry or disgusted, so that was a nice weight lifted off Stiles’ shoulders.
“If the day hadn’t been forced to repeat due to Stiles’ unfortunate passing that first time it occurred, I believe your relationship would have grown and become what a normal relationship would have looked like. You would’ve discovered this information together. But Stiles died that day, and his magic would not allow either his death, or the loss of his mate. So it reset the day, and waited for the right time to force you to stay together. To bring you close to one another over and over again until finally you reached a point where you were already bound, even if neither of you knew it. And as soon as that happened, the magic loosened its grip and allowed you to continue on, discovering things for yourselves, organically moving closer until the loop was finally broken.”
Derek was quiet. Too quiet. It was making Stiles uncomfortable.
“Do you think,” he blurted out, needing some kind of distraction right now, “that if I’d died that first time, and Derek had been there, that we would’ve both remembered when the loop first started?”
“It’s possible,” Mrs. Hale mused. “But hard to know for certain. I feel inclined to believe it would have turned out differently, had you both been looped back at the same time, but magic as old as yours is difficult to predict, or understand.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” he muttered. He was still looking into that with Marin, too. All he knew was that it was called ‘Death Magic,’ which sounded ominous just by itself, but was actually more of a life kind of magic. It only came out during times of great need, when a loved one was dying before their time. It was why it hadn’t worked for his mother, and even though he knew now she probably had the same powers as him, if her death was her time to go, then no amount of magic from her or from him would’ve saved her.
His magic was an asshole, but at least it had saved his dad, his friends, and him, so he was trying to cut it a bit of slack.
“I imagine you would like to have your afternoon back to discuss, so I’ll take my leave. I look forward to meeting you, Stiles. Officially. Take care of my son, he works too hard.”
“I will,” he promised. “I kind of owe him.”
Mrs. Hale laughed, said another farewell directed at Derek, and then hung up.
Derek’s screen flashed to show the call had ended, and then went dark before long when he made no move to return it to his pocket.
For a long while, they didn’t speak. Stiles started feeling anxious about the whole thing again, but Derek didn’t look upset. He looked more—shocked. Like he was trying to figure out how he’d missed the signs, and finally knew why he’d always reacted so badly to everything surrounding Stiles. Sure, seeing him die was traumatizing, Stiles wouldn’t ever think otherwise, but he also knew Derek’s psyche had been impacted so much more than it should’ve been at seeing someone he’d just met die.
He finally had a reason for why his emotions were all over the place, and it was probably overwhelming.
“Mates,” Derek said, after a solid ten minutes of silence. Stiles knew, he’d counted.
“Honestly, didn’t even know that was a real thing,” Stiles admitted. “I’d read about it, but details were always pretty vague, and even Marin’s site before she and I spoke said it was rare because it only happened with born wolves, and the Werewolf population is dominated by bitten wolves.”
Derek said nothing, he was still staring at his phone.
“So I uh, guess you’re a born wolf then, huh?”
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “We talked about it once.”
“Probably don’t have that memory yet,” Stiles said. “But it’s kind of cool. I don’t know any born wolves. Or rather, I didn’t, considering I know you.”
Then, Derek did the weirdest thing Stiles could’ve expected.
He laughed. He actually put one hand over his face and began to laugh, like the words that had escaped Stiles were the most absurd words he’d ever heard in his life.
Stiles didn’t think it was that funny, but this was better than the silence, so he’d take it.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Derek asked him, finally turning to face him, a small smile on his lips.
“At least I’m not boring.”
Derek snorted. “No. You’re definitely not boring.”
They both looked out at the passing students once more, this silence a little more comfortable than the previous one, mostly because Stiles wasn’t feeling anxious or panicked anymore.
“Can we start over?”
Stiles turned to Derek when he asked this, arching an eyebrow. “Like, go back to the beginning of the loop? I don’t think my magic works that way unless I’m dying, and I’m good not going through that again.”
“No, Stiles.” Derek looked skyward, letting out a small sigh of exasperation. God, he was adorable. “I mean start this whole thing over again. Get to know each other properly. Spend time together where we’re not just trying to figure out how to stop you from dying.”
Stiles smiled. “Yeah. I think we can do that.”
Letting out a groan, Stiles shifted his messenger bag off his lap and then stood, stretching loudly before turning to Derek, who hadn’t moved.
“Lunch?”
“It’s probably not even close to lunchtime,” Derek argued.
Stiles shrugged. “Food is food, man. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“That’s not healthy.”
“Then we should go get me some food.”
Derek got to his feet then, and Stiles turned to walk down the few steps to the courtyard, Derek falling into step beside him. They’d barely begun walking when Derek’s hand brushed the back of Stiles’, and without hesitating, Stiles just twisted to lace their fingers together loosely.
No point in pretending this wasn’t a thing, when it so clearly was and had been for a long time. Even if Stiles hadn’t known it at the time.
“You’re paying,” Derek informed him after they’d walked a few more steps.
“What?! I’m a student! And broke! You’re the big FBI agent, and you got promoted, you’re probably rolling in it!”
“You invited me, Stiles.”
“You’re a terrible person,” Stiles advised.
“Let go of my hand then.”
“You let go of mine.”
“I didn’t call you a terrible person,” Derek argued, turning to smirk at him.
“I hate you.”
“Uh huh,” Derek said, clearly still amused. “Whatever you say, Mieczyslaw Stilinski.”
“Wait, how do you know my name?” Stiles demanded, pulling away from Derek ever so slightly to slap his free hand to his chest in mock horror. “Where did you hear about that? Who are you?”
Derek actually laughed at this, stopping and forcing Stiles to do the same, pulling him closer and reaching up with his free hand to press it lightly against Stiles’ cheek, thumb brushing at the skin beneath his eye.
“My name is Derek Hale.”
“Yes it is,” Stiles said with a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget it this time.”
He closed the distance between them and kissed him. It was weird to know this wasn’t their first kiss, and that Derek probably remembered it much better than he did, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that, as much of an asshole as his magic was, at least it knew enough to not listen to Stiles and his dumb ideas.
Stiles thought he wouldn’t mind if this particular day repeated over, and over, and over again. Because this was the day where he honestly, truly, fully met Derek Hale.
And he was never going to forget this man again.
END.
Art by Lonelyreaper