Another wave hit. It wasn't pleasant but it wasn't overly painful either, it was overwhelming and all consuming. Nothing else was there but the pure amber-colored fire licking at his bones from the inside out, taking away his breath, his heartbeat, his thoughts. Red blood trickled down their arms to entwine, dripping to the floor and onto the couch while white noise filtered away all sound. It was like the entire apartment was filling up with magic, making a sweltering heat, an unnatural kind of static in the air.

The Hale felt like he was picked up and tossed around while being in this protective-like bubble, as if wrapped in bubble wrap while some unseen force made him meet the walls and floors over and over. Like being skinned alive but too drugged up to notice it, bared to the bone, stripped from everything. And yet...

Safe.

The bonds – yes, in plural! – and rune connection were wide open. Derek was doing this perfectly. It was quite painful for Stiles at first, but as more and more waves of his accumulated magic rushed over to Derek who was absorbing each so perfectly, the pain was starting to slowly ebb down, the pressure in his head and body lessening a little bit with each pulse through their burning forearms. The half-lit room's walls were painted by their and other shadows thanks to the light of his magic rushing along their arms and the glowing tattoo on his back, the amber-colored roots and branches spreading over his back and shoulders.

He didn't feel when he slid off the couch too to kneel opposite Derek, but there he was, his other hand clasping the back of the wolf's neck, their other arm still tightly linked by magic and blood and physical grip. Pressing his forehead against Derek's, he kept up his chanting, the scent of wolf and ozone filling the crackling air around them, mixing, just like their energies as the magic kept licking against Derek, but less overwhelmingly. It took a few minutes, but it seemed to start calming down somewhat, as if realizing that the outlet will be kept open as long as it was necessary.

Stiles could feel the rush Derek had. He experienced the same, although he was more focused on not being in excruciating pain anymore. It was going to stay in his bones and joints and muscles for a while, he knew, but he didn't want to claw his own organs out anymore, which he considered a big progress... He also ignored the... other effect the much needed magical outlet had on his trembling and sweat-drenched body in order to try helping the flow get steady between them, his lips never pausing with the chanting which finally seemed to take more hold.

He opened his eyes and watched the familiar face from close, his fingers caressing Derek's nape as the magic was now pulsing calmer and steadier between them. He felt his heart swelling and beating faster now not because of the strain his magic had put on his body, but because of his feelings for Derek. He certainly would have died or gone mad if he didn't come to help. And he took it all, without hesitation, without any sound of pain. He was his perfect opposite to achieve the balance they needed to have between them. Stiles could feel it so crystal clear like an epiphany. It all made sense to him now. Everything. And he accepted it just as openly and without hesitation like Derek.

They were one on so many levels.

There was a dim awareness about Stiles being there, the constant chanting in that familiar voice, more like a hum in the background. A strong grip was keeping him from toppling over, clasped by the back of his neck. It was more of a support to keep him grounded instead of a force to make him stay put by bodily strength. The rest was not something he could feel anymore. Not their foreheads touching, not their arms clasped together. Not even the intense way those amber-colored eyes studied him.

He focused on breathing, every exhale like a dragon spitting fire, sweat collecting on his olive toned skin. While Stiles' muscles were overly strained and painful, his own were relaxed, lax even because his body was focusing on dealing with the magic. It was a lot, more than their bondings had given them the last two times. It was also a raw kind of power, starved for an outlet only he could give. It was a most definite overdose, which luckily an alpha's body could handle. Because it belonged to his mate. Maybe deep down the magic realized that kind of distinction, instead of making him feel like he was going through a shredder, instead of making him cry out in pain, it decided to mute him with painless fire.

Of course the discomfort grew the longer he was exposed to the overflow, his body struggling to keep up. So it decided to give in instead. His head felt hazy, and everything felt good, the magic still pulsing to him but at a much slower rate. Stiles' arousal was heavy in the ozone air, the scent of pain diminished but not gone. The scent of death was gone though, so he knew the danger of losing his mate had passed. He had been just in time then, if he had been but a day longer, he would have been a lone wolf again, struggling with a lost mating bond and a lost emissary.

"I'm so hot," the Hale whispered, mouth dry and his tongue feeling like it was too thick to fit, making him slur in his speech. He was hot inside and outside and everywhere. So much heat.

Derek looked and felt so out of it, but Stiles couldn't blame him after what he just had to endure in order to save him. It made him feel a pang of guilt, but at least he and his magic didn't give pain to him. That was something that maybe made this situation a bit better, right? Though... he sounded as if he was... high? It would certainly be a first to see this wolf like that.

Either way, Stiles closed his eyes, letting his senses focus on the process going on both in him and Derek. It seemed the magic had finally settled, dwindling down to a small steady stream in the connection between them. It didn't mean, though that Stiles had "emptied" himself. No, he had plenty of magic left in him, but all that painful excess magic was now in Derek – kinda like "stored" in him – and a part of it kept flowing between them like water calmly licking the shores.

So Stiles deemed it safe to start finishing up the ritual with first changing the chanting he's been doing so far so relentlessly. To his words he felt the runes start to burn their skin a bit hotter, but before it could've become too painful for him to bear, he reached the last line and the physical connection broke with some sparks and sizzling sound. But the metaphysical seemed to stay to some degree. He knew deep down that if he wanted to pull on that bond, he would manage to get more power from Derek. Which was a useful thing regarding their future...

He kept Derek upright with that hand on his nape as Stiles glanced down on his arm. It was bloody, but the rune wasn't bleeding anymore. It looked more as if the rune was burned into his skin permanently. Which was probably the case for him – and maybe even for Derek.

"Alright, my hero. Time to help on that heat and for some cleaning up," he said exhausted, but out of the two of them it was still him who seemed to be less out of it. Of course, Derek wasn't used to magic like him and he took such a big doze now like never before. To return the favor at least a little bit, Stiles tugged the drenched shirt off his warm body, tossing it aside before he helped Derek more or less stand with pulling a heavy muscular arm around his narrower shoulders. "Bedroom's not far. Come on, big boy..." he grunted and started half-dragging the muscular wolf there.

It took a few minutes like this, but Stiles managed to gently drop him on the bed, starting to work on pulling the remaining clothes off the other man, except for the underwear. His own quickly followed too and he left only long enough to bring two damp towels and a first aid kit – the latter more for himself. He started with washing Derek off with the cool towel, making a quick job at it because Stiles was still a bit disoriented. Then he did a quick job at disinfecting their wounds and wrapping them up in white gauze before he used the other towel to wipe most of the sweat off too.

"You okay?" he asked after dragging Derek a bit more up on the bed, watching him with some worry.

Derek didn't need help, he wasn't the one who had been at death's door and he was a werewolf, he was fine. Except maybe there were no words coming from his mouth? Stiles wasn't reacting like there was a sound from him, and his tongue did still feel like it wasn't working. The lights in the apartment seemed too bright, Stiles even seemed too bright with that ever-present ember glow hovering around him, pulsing and glittering like a disco ball. Derek wasn't even aware of the ritual being finished until they were moving and everything moved with them in a kaleidoscope of sounds and colors.

It made his head throb so he closed his eyes, feeling like he was floating on a bed of cotton balls, his legs moving only because the human was making him but they felt like they weren't his own. He didn't even know he was on a bed, everything around him moved faster than he could comprehend. His quietness, which was nothing new but this was of a different kind, was worrying his mate, he knew but talking was so hard. I'm fine, he wanted to say but instead he slurred some words which ended up in a giggle. An honest to god, childish giggle, which Derek would be mortified about if he was going to remember. Derek Hale does not giggle. Ever. Except he did, right now.

He was really fine though, that worry in those brown eyes wasn't needed, there was no pain, it was only fire. And he hated fire. It was supposed to scare him, it was usually a mind-numbing kind of fear that made him want to bolt. Fire had killed his family, fire had nearly killed him due to an overzealous hell hound... no, it had killed him, he had been revived. But he remembered how it felt to have his flesh melt while his nerves had screamed at him as much as his voice had done. And this wasn't that kind of fire. It was not fire as in actual fire.

"I hate fire," he concluded, loudly. Look at that, he could still talk. Did he say everything out loud? Maybe? Yeah, his entire tirade about fire killing everything was heard because there was that look on Stiles' face, he didn't like that look on Stiles' face.

"You're looking with your face." No, that wasn't what he wanted to say and he laughed at his own idiocy. "Your face looks." Nope, again not what he meant and he sighed like Beth would when she was frustrated with herself for not being able to do something she wanted to. "You're pretty." Oh hey, that was true, he was so pretty. All glowing ember and gold like a treasure. His treasure.

Stiles did worry when Derek took his sweet time with his reply. At first it wasn't anything coherent either. Just random words that slowly started to come in the right order, mumbling about the fires in his life. Stiles knew about most, so those weren't news to him – not like that adorable giggle! But he knew how deeply Derek had been traumatized by the tragedies that came with fire. So when he practically yelled that he hates fire, Stiles couldn't stop a pang of guilt and pain again, because he kinda was fire. Or at least his Spark resembled mostly that with its amber color and flame-like properties. Even if it didn't set anything or anyone on fire. Yet. And now he tied more fire to Derek's life. And Derek hated fire...

Still, he couldn't stop a chuckle either while listening to the babbling man. "I think you are totally stoned on my magic, Derek. But thanks for the compliment," he smirked and caressed the naked chest before reaching down next to the bed, picking up a bottle of water. "Here, drink some, it should help a bit, you big romantic," he opened the bottle and helped Derek find his mouth with it.

Frankly, he was adorable like this and if he was truly evil, he would've made a video of it, but Stiles wasn't a complete asshole. Derek liked to hog that title to himself – even if Stiles agreed with it only a few times.

"I think you might be like this until you sleep it off," he sighed and took the water from him to drink some too. He knew in the morning they would be starving as dealing with such amount of magic takes a lot out of the body. Even from a werewolf's.Bottom of Form

The fact Derek had been thirsty hadn't registered until cool water found its way into his mouth and down his parched throat and he greedily drank the liquid until it was gone again. It helped with making his tongue feel like it was tongue-like again and he tested it out by moving it. Sticking it in and out of his mouth, moving it in circles because it followed every command. Everything tasted of magic.

"I'm a pirate and you're my treasure, all gold." Which was exactly how he viewed their developing relationship. The Hale was the villain, the dangerous one who did what needed to be done and Stiles was the good, the one to be pursued and cherished. Pirates shouldn't get their ultimate treasure, it didn't work like that in the books for long, or the treasure would turn out to be cursed. So he didn't deserve Stiles but yet he was his now, he did get his gold, stories didn't end like that. They both knew it. It's what they feared, to wait for the other shoe to drop, for karma to take away the happiness because that's how life worked. Happiness was the pirate's treasure too, chasing after that whale until it would kill them.

The sigh of the human let him know that maybe sleep wasn't a bad idea. It wasn't that he felt sleepy, but if the other needed it, then they should do that. His head was too fuzzy to be any good to anybody right now.

"We should sleep," Derek slurred in agreement and he finally took stock of their surroundings, patting on the bed. If they were on the floor, it was a very comfortable floor. Maybe they were on the bed because he didn't remember ever being on a floor so soft. Except when lying down in thick grass in summer time. Stretching a little, he saw and smelled the green grass, the chirping and humming of insects. The sun shining brightly and warmly upon them. Hmm yeah, this was nice.

Stiles chuckled as Derek was rediscovering how his tongue worked. He could've given him a few tips how to put it in use, but he was too tired and finally his magic-induced boner seemed to give up too. "Aren't you a sweet talker, my hairy pirate? Though I thought I am Batman," Stiles smiled a bit bitterly, remembering Erica for a moment. Although Derek's words melted him a bit on the inside. They sounded true and Stiles doubted that Derek would lie in his high state of mind. But then again, maybe he was simply just drunk on his magic. On him.

The younger man hated to feel uncertain about things, and not being able to talk about this whole mate thing and what just happened because Derek was... not exactly in the right mindset for it and he was also cute like this. He didn't want to ruin his high. He hasn’t seen Derek so carefree and relaxed yet. It was a different kind of happy relaxed state than after they had sex. Similar, yes, but still different. At least he should have a good time, right?

"Yes, we go to sleep now," he agreed with a nod and dragged the cover over them, seeing that his pair... his mate was already drifting off to god knows where. Judged by his expression, to a pleasant place. With a sigh Stiles laid down next to him and watched the sleeping man for a while, his hand curling around the edge of the cover over them in a tight grip.

Stiles was struggling with not giving in to the lurking panic attack as his brain started to process that he would’ve probably gone mad or would be dead by then if it weren't for Derek. He should've nagged Deaton more about his abilities in the past. He could've killed both of them if something went wrong with the spell. And Derek was now tied to him with not one, but two very important bonds. He wasn't sure if Derek even wanted the second bond. The most significant for a werewolf.

Pressing his eyes shut, he took deep breaths, focusing on murmuring one of his calming mantras until the danger of going into full panic mode was gone. His body was pulling him down to dreamland too, but he stayed awake for a long time, just lying there, watching Derek.

When he did fall asleep, he dreamed of smoke and fire. He was burning Derek alive with his magic.

BONDS FOR LIFE

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