Stiles was guessing right that he didn't want to talk about it. There had been this blissful knowledge that whatever happened, what he did, it wasn't going to haunt him. One of the reasons why he had let Stiles do this. And now it was going to change, he was going to have to listen to his monstrous deeds. In a way it was only fair, he couldn't put it all on his mate. It were his actions and he should be held accountable for it. He hadn't wanted this though, any of it. Then again, he should have been firm in his no, should have walked away and let Deaton knock him out. In the end, wasn't this his choice?

"Yeah, I'll listen. I don't have enough soul to be hurt about it much." Just the wicked dark parts of his brain which wouldn't ever let him forget it. Next year they were going to do it his way. The damage had already been done though, the thought of popping a knot, of breaking Stiles open like that because he might be careless... It left a dirty taste in his mouth.

Derek was partially right about sex not being the reason to be together. But it was an important part of a healthy relationship. Although Stiles wondered if theirs ever were or will be a healthy one. He had to believe in that at least. But knowing that Derek was okay with not getting intimate for a while... even if it should've sounded bad, it comforted and relaxed Stiles in a way, because it was like some of the pressure he felt around his chest just dissolved, allowing him to breathe against the warm chest a bit easier.

Stiles pressed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth together for a long moment to keep his emotions more or less at bay. ‘I don’t have enough soul to be hurt about it much.’ That sentence hit home hard. It was also a lie. Or not? Was this rather a confirmation that Derek felt and lived through Stiles' emotions? Something the emissary dreaded. Because if he wasn't tied to Derek like this... would he... would he love him like he could feel through their mate bond? What if all that was just the reflection of Stiles' love for Derek staring back at him and not Derek's real emotions because of the lack of emotions?

That dark thought made Stiles shiver and a few teardrops run down on his pale cheeks, his heart sinking and beating painfully in his chest. It was a thought that will always haunt him. Or at least until they got the missing part of that soul back. If they ever can...

And now Stiles found himself stuck because of that comment. If he talked, he might be able to start accepting and letting go of what happened to him, but it will definitely leave dark marks on his mate – no matter how much of a soul he was left with. But if he danced back, he wasn't going to be able to heal and get strong enough to be able to fix things.

"Very well..." the human finally sighed and started talking with closed eyes. He had told how he enjoyed it at first and then how things took a darker turn. Where he had to knock out Derek with his magic to stop him. How he realized that he can do that with the herbs quite effectively too so they could rest. How he had to use more and more potions and balms and spells on himself too as the week progressed. How he clung to the pictures of Beth and his dad and Derek in his phone, or the brief chat conversations with his dad not to feel so alone. How violent and bloody that dawn got when he got the scratches and the mate bite. How very exhausted he was by the time Derek came to himself.

He didn't go into too many details, though. He didn't tell Derek about the few near panic attacks or the crying under the shower. He never once mentioned or complained about all the pain he had to endure during that week. Derek knew enough from the time he pulled some of the pain away and healed him. No need to make things even worse than they already were.

"The worst thing was... that there was no trace of you when I let you to me and looked into your eyes. So... I stopped searching your gaze. Only the beast was there with one thing on its mind," he shrugged. "You were right, but... but I still think it helped you to some degree. Towards the end... except for that day when I've got my bite... you were less feral. Somewhat calmer, I think. And for that... it was worth it."

Was it? Had it been really worth it just so Derek could have a more peaceful rut next year? Maybe that's what Stiles needed though, to know that what he had endured this week hadn't been for nothing. It had sounded like a lonely experience, like something that had been used as torture, even though his mate tried his hardest not to make it like that. Derek should have said no, this should have never happened at all, he was going to need to have even more control.

"Yeah, I'm sure it helped." It wasn't a lie, it wasn't the truth, it was one of those sentences that could go many ways. It didn't feel like it helped, it felt like coming back from a week away to find out everything changed, and not in a good way. Like he had been sleepwalking and doing all this damage and there were going to be months of righting the wrong. If there was a way to even fix this. If Stiles, in some way, would flinch away from him, it would make him feel guilty and that would make the human feel guilty. They'd be trying to work around one another without setting anything off, and they weren't good at treading glass. It was going to break more, they'd be left bleeding.

What was he supposed to say to any of this? Stiles needed to talk about it, Derek understood that, and he couldn't let his emotions show because he wasn't going to guilt trip him into not daring to talk. There was no way he could leave now to deal with it all like he'd normally do, because Stiles would think he was leaving. So he listened to it and clung to the emptiness of his soul to be blank, to take in the words alone. It would be dealt with, later. Some day.
He listened, running his fingers through the hair like petting, nodding along in understanding. Or so he hoped it would come across.

That beast… that was him. There was no way to differentiate, Stiles was going to see that part of him whenever they... No, he was going to have to make sure no knotting was going to happen, he was going to have to make sure their times together, if they got to that point again, would be gentle and slow.

Why was it that Stiles didn't buy that Derek believed it helped? Oh right, because he could feel through their connection that he didn't. But it wasn't the time to poke at that. He was glad he managed to get through retelling that week without falling into another panic attack or shattering the windows. His magic was restless, flowing around them uneasily, clearly feeling that things were off between its hosts. But it stopped shaking the glasses and in the end didn't shatter that poor lonely light bulb. That was kind of progress, right?

The younger man could also feel that Derek focused on staying neutral, because there were no intense emotions coming from him while he was listening to what Stiles had to tell. And Stiles was sure that it wasn't because Derek didn't care. At least about that he was sure. It was to protect himself and perhaps to stay supportive for him. Which he appreciated, even if the emissary knew that it wasn't healthy for Derek to stay so detached from his emotions.

After a long while, he broke the heavy silence with a sigh and one hand let Derek's shirt go to take the hand in his hair and gently slide it down onto the scars on his nape. "I'm still yours, though. I'll always be yours, Derek. No matter what," he said with a firmness in his voice that wasn't there since before the rut.

Maybe talking about it did already help somewhat. But he knew that both of them were going to have to digest this for a while. Still, Stiles will have to find a way to reconnect with his inner-strength that had helped him through so many things during the years.

"Do you have to put Beth to sleep or dad will do it? I'm asking because... it'd be nice if you could stay or come back to hold me while we sleep..." Stiles whispered. It was progress.

The feel of that scar was only an ugly reminder of what happened and that bite had been ‘the beast’ as Stiles called him so Derek didn't want to feel the scar tissue there. Not that he was capable of healing scars, it was going to be there for the rest of Stiles' life. He had said he wanted it. Did he really, though? Wasn't it deep down a reminder for him as well what Derek was capable of? It was all too much to think about, it required time.

Everything did. They weren't going to be okay just because Stiles managed to tell his side of the experience. It was a start to work on getting past it. There wasn't much offered from Derek’s side because he didn't know how to fix any of this. If he focused on how he felt... it wasn't going to be a helpful rabbit hole he was going to fall down this time. Stiles needed him to let the human feel what he needed to feel without having to hold back out of fear for hurting the werewolf. Which was the danger with his tendency to fully blame himself, because it didn't allow others the freedom to express themselves. Unfortunately, therapy hadn't taught him how to not have that happen without completely disregarding his own feelings. But at least he was trying.

"I want to put her into bed, she had enough babysitters. I'll be back after that." He wanted to kiss Stiles, a peck born out of habit when leaving, but he should let Stiles set the pace, that was important. It was what Derek had needed after... them. So instead he left to get Beth ready for bed, which always took a while. Washing up, pajamas on, brushing teeth and hair. And of course the story, Derek would read to her from a book of her choice until she'd get sleepy enough for him to leave. The little sparkle lights on her pink tent were on, so she wouldn't be in the dark completely, because she hated the dark.

Stiles understood Derek's reasoning and let him leave. Beth will always be first for Derek and he completely understood that. So he waited patiently, his tired mind working somewhat slower than usual since both the panic attack and talking about those memories took a lot out of him.

"I'm screwing up, aren't I, mom? I can't mess this up. I can't lose him..." he whispered into the half-lit room while he was waiting for Derek, already back under the covers. By now he had gotten so used to sleeping next to a furnace of a werewolf that without Derek by his side, he always felt cold. Hence the nest of blankets.

Of course he got no response from the empty room. His mom was long gone, but that didn't stop Stiles from sometimes talking to her. It was both to try to deal with things that bothered him or just keep her updated. Not that Stiles thought she'd really hear. But it was comforting to him. In a way keeping her memory and his bond to her alive.

It was incredibly early to go to bed for Derek, but since Stiles had asked, he got ready for bed too. Staring into the darkness while his mate slept wasn't such a hardship so he came back into the room wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants.

This time Stiles was facing the door as his nail kept scratching at the sheet to do something with his hand and he was so lost in his thoughts that at first he didn't hear or see Derek entering the room. Then he was standing there, clothed and looking so... uncertain. He also looked majestic in a way with his perfect built and Stiles allowed himself to admire that beauty for a moment before moving his hand out of the way to lift the cover for Derek as an invitation to join him.

The reluctance to join Stiles in bed mostly came from the massive pile of blankets, he was going to feel like being in a sauna soon enough. But then again, hopefully Stiles would feel the same way and they'd be without a few of the blankets once the werewolf's heat would settle. He ran hot, which meant he didn't feel cold easily either. Glancing towards the corner of the room briefly, he settled under the pile to face his mate who rolled to get closer, arm loosely rested on his middle.

No words were exchanged between them until they were settled, facing each other under the cover. Stiles' right arm lightly draped over Derek's middle as he was searching the familiar face. And no, he didn't see the beast in Derek right then.

"I'm kinda freaking out that you're not freaking out," Stiles whispered after a while.

Honestly, Derek would have gladly freaked out, even if it wouldn't be that useful – probably only more damaging for them both because it wasn't as if he talked about it. He'd inwardly have a massive meltdown and dealt with it by himself, usually down in the old distillery where nobody would hear or see him. Or find him.

"When I’ve got back from Hell, Morrell was my therapist for a while. She had told me my instant self-blame was blocking others from having actual emotions; that the anger others had with me came from that." At the time Derek had huffed at the notion because he felt like all she had done was making him feel even guiltier but the more he had worked with her, the more sense it made. He had been alone back then, so it hadn't been something he had needed to implement. Until now.

"I don't want you to hold back because of me." It was an old technique Derek had used often in the past. Lock it all away, push it down so deep he wasn't going to have to touch on it again. Not at that moment at least. But there never had been a moment to allow it to be there so it was kind of… forgotten.

Stiles listened closely to what Derek was saying then stayed silent for a minute or two while he thought it over and slightly nodded at the end. "I think I understand what you mean. You don't want me to hold back and feel guilty in case you freak out or talk to me about this. Or to get angry with you because you feel guilty. So instead you... detached yourself from your emotions so I could talk about this easier. Which I appreciate..." he said quietly, his hand on Derek's side finding the edge of his shirt to slide under it onto the warm smooth skin. He needed the physical contact probably just as much as Derek. Even if the other man didn't show it.

"But you have to deal with this too. I have to let you deal with this too. Otherwise it'll stay under the surface, like a thorn in our side, poisoning us. Our relationship. Our bonds. I don't want that. I have to believe that we can get through this too. Together. We're not alone anymore. We're a team. This is a setback, yes. But... we have to work through it. I want to work on it. Do you?" he asked, his thumb brushing against Derek's skin both encouragingly and comforting. He had no idea, but right now Stiles sounded more like an emissary than ever before. Not that it'd be easy to separate the emissary and mate roles since he was both to Derek.

And he had to think of his mate's feelings too. Derek must be devastated from all this. Well... somewhere under that 'emotional detachment'. "You have to let yourself feel too, Derek. I promise I won't run away or judge. I'm your mate. I'm yours and you're mine. Never forget that,” he sighed then paused for a moment before continuing. “Did I ever tell you that I had a few sessions with Morrell too? Those were some conversations... I could never get a good read on her. She was even more cryptic than her brother, Deaton," he snorted shortly while he continued watching Derek.

"I want to work on it, but not right now. I'm fine Stiles. I used the missing soul part to focus on, so it's fine." After days of Stiles hiding away from him like he was some kind of a boogeyman, couldn't they at least have this now? Two hours ago he thought he was going to be single with a mating bond; ready to move out and now he found out Stiles was hiding away because he thought Derek was upset with him for not being strong enough. Not to mention the fact that he had brutalized his own mate for eight days long. No, that wasn't something he was willing to deal with.

The past days he had felt like he had been like Kate – a rapist – and that Stiles hadn't wanted him anymore because of that. Sure, he still wanted him but that didn't change what had happened. Not talking about it was better, there was nothing to say. He wanted to move on, though he doubted Stiles was going to let him block it out like that for long. "Right now it's about you and what you need." And that was pretty much the end of the conversation when it came to him talking about it.

"She was the only one knowing about the supernatural. I couldn't exactly talk about it to a regular therapist." Morrell wouldn't have been Derek’s first choice, she was very cryptic and Derek didn't trust her so it made it complicated to talk. As long as he kept it to what had happened recently, it hadn't been too much of a strain. And he had to admit, as long as she stuck to listening, to being what she was paid for, she hadn't been half bad. "But she helped, both her and Deaton. The fortune cookies siblings."

Stiles actually chuckled from that nickname. "Dude, they are the embodiment of mystery and cryptic. I think that's their superpower. Otherwise yes, she could be helpful. Even if she knew I had zero trust for her. It's also funny how some things she had said about drowning made sense later too when I drowned to save my dad. Maybe she can see the future too or dunno..." Stiles shrugged then he looked more serious, his fingers lightly flexing on Derek's skin.

When Stiles had drowned to save his dad, yeah, that's what made the opening for the Nogitsune to come. It was when Jennifer had forced Derek to be her guardian, which he had only agreed to in order to save the parents. Even though she never had any intention of letting them go, as it had turned out later. She had wanted Derek to kill Deucalion to make her stronger and he had known that once he had served his purpose, she'd happily sacrifice him to the Nemeton as well, or make him her puppet. More than he had already been. The drowning, it was because of Matt, yeah, he had crept around back then too.

With a soft sigh Stiles nodded. "Alright, alright. I get it. Too soon. Take your time. But promise me that when you're ready, you'll talk about it. Please. We can't let this stay between us. We cannot ignore this or build a relationship, a future on it," he added then inched closer on his pillow until he could lightly rub his nose against Derek's, the hand on his waist sliding further up on the warm back to a more comfortable spot.

Baby steps. No flinching away or bad feelings from the physical contact or closeness. Stiles guessed that right after the healing he was all over Derek because he was both too exhausted and just happy to have him back. The problems have started once his brain got some much needed sleep and started over-complicating things. Now Stiles was going to work on undoing that damage the best he can. It was a purpose, a goal to work towards and that was really how the Stilinski men worked.

Stiles had inched closer as Derek was thinking about the past, until their noses pressed against one another and a hand had slid further up his back. Innocent touches, nothing that would suggest it was going to be taken further so he relaxed into them. As long as his mate wasn't going to force himself into something he wasn't ready for with touches.

"I might go see Deaton tomorrow. I feel like I should talk to him and I want to continue learning and perhaps go through the steps of that ritual which could bring your soul back. Check if it'd work in the first place and if yes then see if we can improve it," Stiles announced. "It'll take some time until we get there, though. I'm sorry," he added, remembering all too vividly when Derek said that the longer he was without the other part of his soul, the less he felt.

"Take your time, it's not like my soul is going anywhere." Kind of. It was stuck in Hell still and time moved much faster there so the longer they took, the more it was going to go through. And he knew the thought of dealing with decades of torture should have worried Derek, but it didn't. Nothing really did at this moment so it was possible he had undone some of Stiles' work on containing what had been left of his soul. Tapping into the emptiness was... It was nice not to feel all these struggling emotions.

Stiles didn't like the way Derek said that he could take his time with solving the soul problem. It was mentioned before that time passed faster in Hell, so the emissary knew the risks. And he didn't want Derek to suffer more than he already did. Though it was very likely that once his soul was whole again, it wasn't going to be easy for either of them for a while. Now... now Stiles guessed that his mate said it like this because he was still kinda detached from his emotions. Or not to put additional pressure on him. Or both. It wasn't working.

"I won't get lazy about this and you know that. As soon as Deaton deems us ready, we're gonna do the ritual," he stated on a quiet but firmer voice. It was next on their agenda anyways now that the rut was over and they both lived another day. Of course they'll have to deal with the aftermath of the heat cycle too, but that was another problem for another day.

"It'll be good for you to get out of bed and out of the house. But you'll have to start eating." With how weak Stiles was now, he wouldn't be doing much magic training, he'd probably be tired by the time he was downstairs.

Dinner was long cold and not something to be eaten like that. Derek hadn't checked but it was probably still there near the door, untouched. "I can get you something."

Stiles just grimaced from the thought of food. "I'm not hungry right now. I'll eat tomorrow morning. I promise," he said, meaning it. He knew that if he wanted to use his magic, he'll need the sustenance as it burned away a lot of energy. Sure, it filled him up with that while using it, but there was always a price when wielding such forces. He was just glad that it didn't mean losing a leg or an arm or something else. Yes, he had seen Full Metal Alchemist. The basics were the same. You cannot create something from nothing. It applied to him too in the sense that his magic required energy.

The fact that Stiles promised he was going to eat in the morning satisfied Derek enough not to prod into making him now. He got it, he was never hungry either when stress was burning a hole in his stomach. The thought of food would be like being forced to eat dust, unappealing. It's usually how it would taste too when stressed, like dust, every bite filling the mouth with too much and there wouldn't be anything appealing about it. Sometimes forcing it was best, though. Especially for humans who didn't have that much fat on the bones to begin with.

"Okay, tomorrow then," the wolf eventually agreed as they remained cuddled up. Further away were Beth's deep breaths as she was sleeping, downstairs the soft sound of the TV because Noah was watching sports.

The man had been dealing with all of this admirably, not once pestering them when he knew something was going on. He only cautiously asked about it later, checking to make sure it was all going well enough. He cared, he worried but he kept a certain distance when needed and that was nice. It wasn't like the insistent pestering Peter did. No scathing remarks thrown Derek’s way. Though, there was one habit he was still getting used to. The whole 'We Stilinskis hug it out.' They did a lot of hugging.

It was nice being able to just lie there so close again. Stiles'd missed this closeness, the warmth and scent of his pair. He already felt a little bit more relaxed now that he didn't want to flinch away from Derek. He hated to feel like that in the last few days. He hated himself for it, although he also understood it. He acted like that after the Nogitsune too. Pulled away from all physical contact. It was a defense mechanism after trauma. And he initially didn't look at the rut like a trauma, but it seemed his unconscious mind and body kinda did. So now that he took the first step with talking about it, it seemed that pressure on his soul lessened somewhat and a barrier broke down in him, allowing Stiles to rediscover the positive sides of touching his mate and being close to him and touched by him.

Stiles was not sleeping, that brain of his was working full force now that Derek didn't want to talk about it, a certain unease lingering between them. Damn the human and his ways! With an eye-roll meant for himself, Derek sighed. "I feel like a rapist."

The human was so lost in his thoughts and planning on what he should talk about with Deaton that Derek's sigh and admittance took him off guard, making his whole body tense up for a few moments as the words made sense and hit him hard. He suspected as much, of course he did. After all, to some extent he could feel what Derek felt. Their bonds could be a two-edged sword.

"I know..." he said after a few long seconds, body relaxing. He didn't try to dismiss it. It's how Derek felt and even if Stiles disagreed and didn't like it, Derek had the right to feel like that given his past. His history with Kate Argent. It was a similar situation to that in the meaning that although there was consent in both cases, it all ended up in something... dark and twisted. Unhealthy, perhaps. Leaving uncomfortable imprints on Derek and now on Stiles too. But in other regards Derek was wrong.

"It's different from what she did to you, though... You didn't know what you've got caught up in. You were used for the wrong reasons, to further her goal. With me you had no such goal. You weren't using me like that. I knew more what I was getting myself into and I agreed. I wanted to help you," he said softly, his hand tracing a curl of the tattoo on Derek's back.

"I still used you." It wasn't exactly the same as Kate no, but obviously consent didn't mean it hadn't been forced. And just because Derek had warned him, that didn't mean Stiles had been fully prepared for what it all had meant. No, it wasn't an adult using a teenager to get access to his family and burn them all. It was an adult using an adult to get sex, violent uncontrolled sex. The wolf had been used for sex without his consent, and it wasn't this kind of feeling but it came close to it.

The hand traced his tattoo and it felt nice. At least Stiles didn't pull away the moment he spoke up or diminished how he felt. "You put me to sleep often but you never once fully made it stop. Why not?" What had made Stiles not to use the fail safe they had talked about? That backup plan had been made on purpose, so it wouldn't get to this point where the rut was a problem in their relationship.

Had it been something the human had felt he needed to prove, that he had been strong enough to lie there and take it? It wasn't like Derek had ever doubted that. It had been the fact Stiles shouldn't have needed to do that. So he had first enjoyed it, Stiles had said that much. But not later and he hadn't stopped it, even when it got so bad that he was considering it a traumatic experience. Maybe that's what he really hated about it, that he had given his mate yet another reason to have PTSD.

Stiles thought about his reply instead of babbling about all kinds of things which wouldn't help Derek make believe any of it. He knew he wanted the truth and nothing else would suffice. With a small sigh the brown eyes lifted up to meet Derek's. The dim light of the lamp in the corner highlighted the amber color in them as he opened up a bit more for his mate so he could understand better.

"I've told you before that I enjoyed it at the beginning. Well, not just at the beginning. There were occasions later too. Sometimes when you took me, other times when I took you. You know I like pain up to a point. But that's not..." he paused and sighed again and remained silent for a long moment. "I didn't make it fully stop because I could feel how desperately you needed me. How much pain you were in, Derek. I don't know how much you remember from that, but I could feel it nearly as much as you did. I couldn't rob you from that release. Even if it was temporal. I couldn't deny you. It was burning me so badly too. There were times when I felt your rut as if it was mine. I wanted you just as much in those occasions and it was so much easier to get lost in those urges with you. I only stopped it when my body physically couldn't take more. And then there was the other reason... that I believe it helped somewhat to make it a bit easier for you in the future," he admitted, his voice staying quiet and maybe even a bit moved.

His hand never stopped caressing Derek's back and he tipped his head forward so their foreheads could touch. "My mate needed me," he whispered with a tone and belief behind his words that told Derek that Stiles thought it had said it all. They were together in this and Derek will never be alone again. Even if for some reason he might refuse him. Stiles mated with him for life. He chose him for life. He'd never stop being his mate, his other half – no matter what. Stiles just hoped that Derek would one day fully accept that and the fact that he wasn't going to change his mind about it. He had told him before: he was Derek's and no one else's.

It wasn't too hard to understand the need for pain, to like it to a certain point for whatever reason. For Derek it had been a way to feel. Pain was something that reminded him he wasn't completely a rock; that he was alive, that he bled as well. It healed, it always healed and it wasn't like he was chasing after the pain but he sure had welcomed it. It was a rush, a relief even. There was however, at some point where the pain was too much, where it wasn't a pleasurable kind of pain anymore. He didn't exactly remember this rut but he remembered the feelings of the other ones. The way he'd claw along the floor, wracked with fever and need, shivering in the pain of it being left unattended.

He probably called out for his mate at times, used the bond to send the heat to him and entice him to come closer. With bonds so wide open like theirs were, it was imaginable that the human had been affected as well. If their bonds would intensify more, then over time they were going to feel one another's pain even over distances. Even when they were not together.

"You allowed yourself to be traumatized by me for me. It's not..." It's not how it was supposed to be, he had wanted to say but he stopped. Because wasn't that exactly what he would do for Stiles as well? And he would say he could because he healed and Stiles didn't. Which was a good point but it was also....."That's specist of me. I shouldn't... You did what I would do for you and I'd still do if I was the human and you the werewolf." Sometimes his thinking still needed some work apparently because as accepting as he was of humans and their strengths, he did hold their weaknesses against them and it wasn't fair for Stiles. "But we're not doing it again, okay? If I feel like my rut next year won't be as it should be, I'm going to be sleeping for the week."

Stiles pressed his lips together and his hand paused with its caressing motions for a few moments. There was a pang of something like pain deep down. Maybe he was too open, too emotional right now after days of his self-isolation. "Yeah, don't be such a snob of a werewolf..." he snorted and resumed to the caressing as he closed his eyes kinda in defeat. "And how about we stop calling it a trauma? I did this for you. For us. I wanted to do it and I'm not regretting it, Derek. Even with the consequences. Try to accept that and that I'm your mate. Through thick and thin. I meant it. I'll... we'll get through this too. We always do. And I've told you this before. So try to get it through your thick skull," he murmured.

Was everything he just said pointless? Will Derek ever understand? In that moment Stiles was too insecure and vulnerable to be able to answer that or chase away the small doubting voice in the back of his head. Was Derek still too detached to exhibit more emotions? Emotional-wise he still felt more... frozen than not, even after all the 'epic' and 'romantic' things his mate just talked about. They all came from deep down, from the bottom of his heart. It felt as if baring his soul didn't work as it was supposed to. It somehow felt as if he had hit a brick wall with his words and efforts and it made Stiles swallow hard and his heart sink.

They'll have to get that missing soul back. Fast. Because what he started to fear the most was being left the only one in this relationship with real feelings. And then that voice chimed up in his head again, reminding him that he couldn't be sure just how much of the werewolf's emotions were still his and how much the reflection of Stiles' for him.

"Okay... Next year we do it your way," Stiles finally agreed, eyes slightly opening but he kept staring down along Derek's nose. He wasn't burning from the need to go through such a rut again, but he'd do it if necessary. He just knew he would. But the human didn't want to argue about it right now. He just wanted to be held by his mate.

"I'll go to Deaton tomorrow after closing hours," the emissary stated after a while, a finality in his voice, the slight doubt from earlier gone from it.

The angry eyebrows told the story of how Derek didn't agree on this not being a trauma. If it hadn't been one, then why had Stiles been hiding away for days? Why couldn't they at least kiss? Being mates didn't excuse everything and he wasn't going to be accepting that kind of attitude either. Stiles seemed upset with him though, seemed to take his words as not enough and that made him shut down too. He had tried talking about it and it hadn't worked. As he had known it wouldn't because talking never did, not when he did it.

"Get some sleep, we both need it," was all Derek really said but he didn't turn away from Stiles. It felt like it had taken them both a long time to fall asleep but he was exhausted and in the end there was no way he could stay staring into the empty darkness of the room, not with his mate staring back at him. So he closed his eyes and eventually gave into it, feeling like they were a long way from getting through it.

He loved Stiles, he really did, yet at the moment the ability for them to talk without words was lacking and there was so much confusion and miscommunication happening. It had made his head hurt. Funny how he still managed to sleep like a baby.

Everything was going to be fine. Right?

WHOLE AGAIN

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