chapter twenty-three: the calm before the storm

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Chapter Twenty-Three







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The Calm Before the Storm
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•••The Calm Before the Storm•••

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August 7th, 2025

9:56 PM

Beacon Hills, California

"Do you remember when my dad died and I kept breaking out laughing at every big bad we faced for the next three months?" Stiles asked, voice low as he leaned back against Derek's chest, the fire crackling in the fireplace. Derek shifted, nudging his cheek against the side of Stiles' head.

"I do. It freaked the kids out but I knew," he answered, tucking his nose into Stiles' neck, closing his eyes and just breathing for a second. "I knew that you had lost one of the only people in the world that you could truly depend on. Your entire world was flipped and no wendigo or horde of pixies could possibly be scarier than that."

"You always know," Stiles said. He tilted his head to give Derek better access.

"Because I know you," Derek said. "I knew then that you were trying to make sense of it all. And I assume that you brought it up because you're feeling the same thing now."

"Everything's changed somehow," Stiles shook his head. "Just a few days in this town and nothing's the same."

"Some things for the better," Derek noted, running his nose up the side of Stiles' neck, across the bolt of his jaw, leaving a gentle kiss there. "Julio seems to have found something with Yale, despite how strange that is for us as pseudo-parents. I think we can lay some things to rest with Scott and Lydia, even if things are still tense. And I had a pretty good conversation with Malia, and even though we won't be the best of cousins anytime soon, there's no animosity between us. All we need is Valencia and the world will be complete enough for us to move on."

"Do you think she's okay?" Stiles asked, tightening his hands against Derek's hands that were resting on his stomach.

"I think we would feel it if she wasn't." They would feel it if she was dead. The words left unspoken, sitting on Derek's tongue and weighing in Stiles' brain.

"Right," Stiles whispered, relaxing minutely in Derek's arms.

"Tomorrow is it," Derek said. "I can feel it. We're right there."

"I feel it too but..." Stiles shook his head, staring at the crackling flames. "There's something we're missing, I just know it. I can't figure it out."

"You will," Derek assured. "You always do."

"Not this time," he whispered. "I don't know what it is, but I just feel lost on this one. Nothing is solid, it's like we're all trapped in the middle of the ocean and all of the life rafts we've been thrown have all turned out to be made of paper. As soon as we start to get pulled to shore it just disintegrates. Every breakthrough we've had has led us down the wrong path, I just feel like we're being lied to at every turn." His words hung heavy in the air. Derek's arms tightened around him, pulling him close like he too would disintegrate.

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