Angel with a shotgun(Destiel)(Sterek)

Keep your eyes on the stars

'Keep your eyes on the stars and your feet on the ground' That was a saying that Stiles had heard from Missouri Moseley several times during their hunt for their father. She was a psychic that had helped them many times and every time they ventured off again, she would tell them, 'Keep your eyes on the stars and your feet on the ground'. That saying had become a mantra of sorts for Stiles when Dean had died. But the more he repeated it, the less those words meant anything. What good were the stars to him? They couldn't fix his problems. And keeping his feet on the ground wasn't the problem, it was keeping his head above water. He was constantly drowning it felt like. The loss of his father. The fights with Sam. Then losing Dean. He'd lost all hope.

Now as he sat in the passenger's side of Derek's Camaro, staring at the stars, he was reminded of that saying. 'Keep your eyes on the stars'. That was just a way of saying keep your head up. But what if you were tired of keeping your head up? What if it was just easier to drown?

"What are you thinking about so hard?" Derek asked then glancing at Stiles with concerned eyes. He could sense Stiles' mood shift suddenly.

"You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding." Stiles said not looking away from the stars.

"Are you okay, Stiles?" Derek asked with a frown.

"I'm fine, yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen," Stiles snorted.

"It's called hyper-vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat. It's common in a lot of hunters," Derek explained gently. This was the most he'd gotten Stiles to talk all week.

"But it's not just a feeling, though. It's like...it's a panic attack. You know? Like I can't even breathe. Like I'm drowning." Stiles' eyes were still focused on the stars.

"So, if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in?" Derek asked cautiously.

"You do anyway, it's a reflex," Stiles shrugged.

"But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right?" Derek knew what Stiles was trying to say, but he refused to let him give up.

"Not much time," Stiles answered flatly.

"But more time to fight your way to the surface. More time to be rescued," Derek glanced at Stiles again. He was still looking out the window.

"More time to be in agonizing pain. Did you forget the part where you feel like your head's exploding?" Stiles scoffed.

"If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?" Derek wished he knew the right thing to say.

"But what if it just gets worse? What if it's agony now and then... it's just hell later on?" Stiles asked finally turning to look at Derek.

"Then think about something Winston Churchill once said; "If you're going through hell, keep going," Derek quoted. It was something his mother used to tell him.

"You sound like Sam," Stiles chuckled.

Derek felt himself relax as Stiles' mood shifted again. He was calmer now.

"Stiles, we'll get through this. I'm not gonna let you drown," Derek's tone was sincere. He couldn't begin to understand what Stiles was going through, but he knew what if felt like to want to give up.

"Thank you," Stiles looked at Derek with a fond smile.

Stiles didn't even realize Derek had missed the turn for the hotel until they were pulling into a parking lot.

"What are we doing here?" Stiles asked glancing at the mini golf course to his left.

"Dean mentioned he and Sam used to take you mini golfing when you got restless, I know you're not a kid anymore, but I thought it could be a nice distraction," Derek shrugged before climbing out of the camaro.

Stiles couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. Derek wasn't like the hunters Stiles had met growing up. They were all gruff and bitter. Derek was guarded, sure, but he was also kind and caring.

He let Derek lead him through to the first hole, it was late and no one else was there so it was quiet, which Stiles appreciated.

"So, are you good at this or am I gonna kick your ass?" Stiles asked with a smirk as he putted his ball into the first hole.

"You may give me a run for my money," Derek smiled with a raised brow, "How restless were you as a kid?" Derek joked lightly.

"Dean used to sneak us in here after hours when we knew dad would be gone a while. Sam would play one or two rounds, but he usually had a book with him. Dean used to tease him about it. It's some of my favorite memories though," Stiles smiled sadly, as if recalling some of them.

"When was the last time you guys did that?" Derek asked curiously as they made their way to the second hole.

"Three days before Dean went to hell," Stiles said looking thoughtful, "Sam was pissed that he was wasting time. But Dean played the 'going to hell' card and said he wanted to play with us one last time," Stiles' voice broke.

Derek immediately regretted bringing Stiles here.

"After the first hole, Sam relaxed, and we let ourselves forget that Dean would be dead in three days time. I remember the car ride after, it was dead silent. We were out of options to save Dean. When we got back to Bobby's, I sat on the hood of one of the old junk cars and cried. I didn't even cry that hard when dad died," Stiles shook his head, as if trying to shake the memory away. He lined up the ball and putted it into the hole effortlessly.

"I can't imagine," Derek frowned. Losing his family had been terrible, but he couldn't imagine knowing it was going to happen and being helpless to do anything about it.

"I saw it happen, Sam and I both did. He was ripped apart right in front of us," Stiles' brows furrowed, "I've seen some pretty messed up things in my life, but that...that will haunt me forever," Stiles swallowed hard.

"I'm really sorry," Derek didn't have the words to express how bad he felt for Stiles.

"I've never told anyone any of this. Sam knows, but he was there." Stiles said setting down his ball at the third hole.

"So why are you telling me?" Derek asked. He was genuinely curious. The Winchester's weren't known for being the trusting type.

"Honestly..." Stiles putted his ball missing the hole by a hair, "I have no idea," Stiles gave Derek a small smile.

Derek stepped towards Stiles slowly, "You're one of the best hunter's I've ever met, but you're also one of the bravest. You're something special, Stiles." Derek's tone was soft and gentle. It made Stiles' stomach flip.

"And I know it's agony, but I promise you, we'll get through this, together. I don't know why you chose to trust me but I want you to know that I'm always here for you," Derek didn't know where this was coming from, he was never so open, not since he lost his family.

Just then Stiles dipped his head in and pressed his lips firmly to Derek's. Derek immediately gripped the back of Stiles' neck, keeping the hunter close. The kiss was rough and needy, like they both needed it to survive.

When they finally parted, breathless and swollen lipped, Stiles spoke, "I didn't intend to do that."

"I'm glad you did," Derek huffed with a smile, his hand still gripping the back of Stiles' neck loosely.

"Thank you," Stiles whispered, "For everything."

Instead of responding, Derek leaned back in, reconnecting their lips.

Stiles kissed back willingly. This kiss slower and gentler than the first.

He'd never allowed himself to trust someone the way he did Derek. He only hoped he didn't come to regret it.

*AN*
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