Sterek Tumblr Shorts

Soul Marks AU

Notes: Soul mark AUs are where you have a mark (or name) somewhere on your body that will tell you who you soulmate is. anonymous asked:

if you're still taking prompts, how about something like an alive!Hales AU where Derek is told to "stay away from that trouble-making sheriff's kid-- no really Derek, you need to think about your future" but he's like "he is my future???" so obvs they have to sneak around or something idk

Me: So I had this idea, started writing, and then went to bed, and by the time I woke up two or three other instances of it appeared on my dash! Clearly some Jungian Unconscious business happening in TW fandom. Not exactly what you asked for, but here it is.

The Hales knew what the Stilinski boy was the day he was born. In a small town like Beacon Hills it didn't take long for the gossip to spread: John and Claudia Stilinski's new born boy had a wolf's paw print right over his heart.

"You stay away from the Stilinskis," his mother told him. "We don't need the Sheriff to find out about us."

No problem. Derek was five and had zero interest in a howling infant. He was more interested in the foreign letters that had appeared on his chest that afternoon.

A decade later his family had burned to death and it was his fault. He'd be doing his soul mate a favour by staying away from them, he figured. Good thing they probably lived somewhere in Europe. Somewhere safe.

*

Derek doesn't think about his soul mate for almost twenty years. Not until Derek hauls him and Allison out of the lake, soaking, shivering, and up onto the shore.

"We have to get them out of those clothes!" Scott pants, kicking the last, bloody scrap of lake monster back where it came from. Good riddance.

Stiles rolls over onto his front and coughs up a bunch of water. "Got—got a change in the Jeep," he gasps out. Allison heaves for breath beside him. "Spares."

The cold snap had come on suspicious quickly, and Derek suspects now that the lake monster is taken care of it'll dissipate just as fast.

He nods at Scott, who pulls Allison to her feet, takes her weight as they start limping back to where they had parked earlier. Derek is a little less gentle with Stiles, but keeps him pulled close against his side, keeps his arm wrapped tight around his shoulders to ward off the chill.

"S-s-so much for sp-sp-spring break," Stiles stutters. Derek shifts his weight, tucks Stiles in against his chest to free his hands and open the rear window. He's much better equipped to handle a little cold and wet than Stiles or Allison. For once, Derek didn't get thrown into the lake, or through a window, or a wall.

Inside there's a duffle bag. He hauls it out and unzips it. "Past you was a genius, dude," Scott grins. There's more than one change of clothes in there, and Stiles hasn't quit his habit of wearing way too many layers. There's more than enough for both he and Allison to have a clean, dry change of clothes.

Stiles disentangles himself from Derek and rubs weakly at his arms. "Well? Are you going to turn around or what?" He asks, petulant.

Derek rolls his eyes. "Start stripping. This is no time for modesty." Behind Stiles, Allison is already struggling out of her shirt and handing it to Scott.

"Maybe I'm shy!" Stiles whines, but follows suit. Both of his shirts are stuck together with water. Derek bends to pull a long-sleeved sweater out of the bag and almost misses it, though as soon as he sees even the curve of the bottom of it he thinks it would be impossible to mistake.

He drops the sweater and reaches out to pull the wet shirts the rest of the way off. "Th-th-thanks, b-b-but are you g-g-going to g-give me a new sh-shirt or just-t-t make m-me feel s-super awkward about this?"

Stiles' teeth are chattering. Distantly, Derek knows that's a good sign but his brain is completely stalled, fixated on the large paw print in bright, electric blue placed possessively over Stiles' heart.

"D-Derek?" Stiles tries again. When he doesn't get an answer he twists around to get a look at Scott. "Buddy? Little help?"

Derek doesn't know or care what Scott does or says. He can't process. He reaches out and presses his palm to it as Stiles tries to squirm away. "D-dude! That's p-p-personal!" he whines. That finally gets Derek's attention. He snaps his eyes back up to meet Stiles; can feel his eyes flare the same electric blue as Stiles' mark.

"I know."

*

Eventually, Derek gets his shit together. Helps Stiles struggle into an old pair of sweatpants and then the passenger seat of the Jeep. Scott will drive Allison back to their apartment, he knows. All he can focus on is making sure Stiles is safe, is somewhere the wolf inside him knows inside and out.

It shouldn't be a surprise that they wind up at the little house he built out on the preserve. Stiles knocked out not long into the drive, face pressed to the glass, breathing and heart rate steady as Derek cranked the heat to keep him warm. He only stirs when Derek cuts the engine.

"This isn't my dad's house," he mumbles.

"I know," Derek says again, and climbs out of the car, makes his way around to open Stiles' door and help him down. It's a bit of a drop, and he'd spent years watching Stiles flail his way in and out of the Jeep. He'd grown up and into his long limbs; become less gangly and more lean at College, but that one thing hadn't changed.

He keeps an arm around him as he guides Stiles up the front steps and into the house; down the hall and leaves him in the bathroom while he hefts his winter duvet out of the closet and smooths it over top of his lighter, summer duvet. Keeps an ear out for Stiles to make sure he doesn't fall asleep standing up.

"Where are you going to sleep?" Stiles asks, stumbling toward the bed. Now that Derek has already seen it, he seems less self-conscious about the mark; strips off his sweater and climbs under the blankets and duvets with a sigh.

Derek takes his distraction to strip down to his boxer-briefs and slip in under the covers, pulls Stiles, sleepy and pliable, in close. He's clearly too tired to talk about it tonight, not wired the way he is when he knows a threat is still on their shared to-do list. Already his heart rate is slowing into the steady rhythm of sleep. Derek presses his hand to the paw mark again, curls his fingers to match up with the claws.

"Right here," he says quietly.

Stiles doesn't hear him, not yet. Maybe tomorrow.