Chapter Text
The text arrives as Derek’s sitting on the rooftop of his old New York apartment building, watching the sunrise and catching his breath. He’d awoken early that morning to fit in his workout, getting it out of the way first to leave time for all the meetings and interviews and other tasks of the day. He blinks down at his phone in confusion. Do you remember a book from your family’s library with a weird werewolf sci fi Little Red Riding Hood time travel story?
It’s from Stiles. Why is Stiles texting him? How the hell did Stiles find that book? How had that story, of all of them, managed to survive the fire? And of course he remembers it. The book was a study of werewolf origin stories from various cultures. He’d ignored the analysis portions of the book as a kid, finding them boring, but he’d always been fond of the stories. His Mom would sometimes read them to him when he was having a bad day. That was my favorite story growing up. he sends, before he can think better of it.
He gapes and stares incredulously when the next text arrives, completely at a loss for words. Would you believe me if I told you it’s a true story, and that I’m Little Red?
No. No way. Simply impossible. Ridiculous. As if Stiles wasn’t crazy enough already. This is just… this is too much. He can’t. He just can’t with this. No. he replies. Unacceptable.
...Okay, so maybe he’s overreacting a bit. But he has Reasons. Very important, very personal reasons that he really doesn’t want to go into with Stiles.
I’m serious. Turns out waking the Nemeton made Beacon Hills more than just a beacon for the supernatural. We’ve got ourselves a genuine rift in spacetime. That… actually sounds way too plausible. With all the crap that goes on in that town already, Derek can definitely picture something like that happening. Especially to Stiles. God damn it.
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in exasperation. Damn it, Stiles. I leave, and look at the mess you get yourself into…
Tell me the story.
But… what? Why? Didn’t you just live it? You probably know it better than I do.
I know the facts. I want to hear the story. And, okay, Derek can appreciate the distinction there. He still thinks it’s silly, but he can play along.
Fine, he sends. It was a dark and stormy night…
He’s instantly rewarded with Stiles’ response to his snark. No, shut up. This is serious storytime right now. Do it right.
He snorts and his mouth twitches involuntarily into an almost-smile. He’s missed the easy banter he and Stiles shared. Right. Serious storytime. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The memory of his mother’s voice fills his head, her warm hand brushing the hair away from his forehead as he’d drift in that weightless realm of not-quite-asleep.
The overwhelming flood of emotions makes him want to run away from the whole situation. It’s been a long time. I might not remember everything. he lies. He’d memorized the story long ago.
Please?
...Ah, crap. Well. Can’t really say no to that. He’s a terrifying creature of the night, for sure, but he’s not mean.
He takes one more deep, calming breath before launching into the story. Text message isn’t really the best medium for such storytelling, but he’s too much of a coward to turn this into a phone call. He recites it, a sentence or two at a time, his mother’s voice echoing in his mind.
Stiles seems mostly content to just let Derek tell the story, not sending much in the way of commentary. Derek is actually fairly surprised about that, given how vocal the young man usually is. When Derek gets to the point of the story that describes Little Red-- describes Stiles-- Stiles sends, Ha! Seriously? That’s how the story describes me?
Derek can’t help but feel embarrassed. He had never admitted it to anyone, and never ever will, especially now, especially to Stiles, but Little Red from this particular story was his first ever-- and by far his biggest-- literary crush. Little Red was clever, witty, sarcastic, fiercely protective, wise beyond his years, incredibly brave… everything young Derek had wanted to be when he grew up, and everything he’d wanted to find in a life partner as soon as he understood the concept. All with bright amber eyes and an infectious smile.
Now, to find out it was actually Stiles… Well. Figures.
Yes, Stiles. That’s Little Red. Do you want to hear the story or not?
Sorry, just not used to you saying nice things about me. Please, continue.
Derek scowls, but resumes the story. Stiles interjects occasionally with factoids from his own experience: Chris Argent, he supplies, when Derek describes the hunter; Two more were with us, and we had to rescue Ms. Morrell and Danny Mahealani.; We totally had an awesome rescue plan all mapped out, but they ruined it by showing up early.
Stiles doesn’t interrupt at all during big battle scene. Only at the very end, after Bad Wolf transforms her warriors into werewolves, and Little Red stands before the last of the fallen foes to declare their victory, does he comment. Really? That’s all they say about the battle?
Why? Did they miss something important?
His phone stays silent for a few minutes. Derek is starting to wonder if he should just start up again or if Stiles is even still there, when he finally responds. I guess not. It’s fine. Just keep going.
Derek thinks it’s definitely not fine, but he decides not to press the issue right now. Maybe Stiles will tell him what the deal is after the story ends. There isn’t much more to the story after that, actually, so he finishes fairly quickly. ...And they all lived happily ever after. The End.
He waits impatiently for Stiles’ next text. He’s not used to being the one saying so much, waiting for a response. He doesn’t much like it. He finally can’t stand it any more. How does it compare?
He’s relieved when he finally receives something from Stiles again. Wow. Awesome. No, really. I like your version of the story much better.
Derek really wants to ask for the true story, but he doesn’t quite know how. He sees the time when he next glances at his phone, though, and he knows he’ll have to leave soon. He has work to do today. What are you even doing up at this hour? he asks instead.
I could ask you the same thing. Stiles is deflecting, Derek knows. Something is up with him, but Derek doesn’t know how to go about finding out what.
It’s not that early over here. he admits.
Oh. Where are you? he receives, just as he hears Cora calling him down for breakfast.
As much as he’d like this to continue, he does have a busy day ahead of him. I have to go. he sends, and climbs the fire escape back down to his window. Stiles doesn’t text back.