Chapter Text
When the name Grzegorz tattoos itself across Derek's wrist in neat, thin strokes, his mother pats him on the head in sympathy and Laura laughs so hard she has to go to her room, the sound echoing down the hall as she goes. Derek was born at 6:33 in the morning on a Tuesday, so it's only his family that happens to be present for the event. Laura even took time off college to come see it - not that Derek would complain had she stayed, considering her reaction.
For a moment, Derek actually has a small one-person prayer circle for his intended - he isn't even religious - because holy shit, that name must've been a fucking death sentence in middle school. Then, he actually takes the time to consider the name. He doesn't know anyone who carries it - because it's not exactly easy to forget - but that's okay. Age differences aren't uncommon when it comes to soul-bonded people, and neither are instances where the indended pair take time to meet. Grzegorz - how the hell do you even say that, anyway? - could be older than him, or younger, or live far away and eventually end up moving to Beacon Hills. The possibilities are endless.
Even though Derek knows the probability of not meeting his intended is highly improbable, he can't help but be disappointed. He won't get to go into school today and walk straight up to them, wont be able to kiss them and know they're his. He knows he wants to wait, knows he can't imagine dating someone else now that he knows Grzegorz' name, but the thought of growing up like his Uncle Peter is horrifying. They think Peter's intended probably fought the bond, was maybe already married to some other non-believer, and no one holds it against him, but Peter will never love the way he's supposed to. That idea is miserable.
His friends all laugh when they see the name, and if it were anyone else, he'd be right there with him. But because it's his intended, because he already feels protective of this person - he doesn't even know the gender, that's how strange the name is - all he wants to do is punch them all. He can't imagine having to go through his own life with that name, considering having it tattooed across his wrist is mortifying by itself. Eventually they calm down, realizing how much Derek's situation actually sucks, but when the school day ends he still feels like shit.
When he comes home, Laura wraps him into a patented older-sister hug. He didn't realize he needed one, but he folds himself into it now, sighing in a small amount of relief. "I'm sorry for laughing," she mutters in his ear, pulling away. "I know it sucks. I think I was just happy not to be alone."
And Derek knows exactly what she means, because the Lydia written in perfect script across her wrist hasn't made an appearance yet, either.
~*~
Derek moves in with Laura for college, with her at NYU studying Literature and Business because she's just waiting to graduate and go to NYLS, while Derek starts freshman year at Parsons. It's difficult, with both of them having to commute from their tiny apartment and Laura seriously having to curb her habit of bringing strange guys home and scarring Derek for life, but they work it out. It's nice to see her - Laura and Derek have always been close - and Derek wonders if here, finally, he might meet Grzegorz. He's already taken a year off to wait, but with no Grzegorz in sight, he'd wondered if maybe all he needed was to get out. So he went to Parsons and started pursuing his dream; becoming an artist.
Sculpture has always been Derek's strong suit, but in school he gets to explore, dabbling in paints, sketching with charcoal, the whole nine yards. It's around then he starts dreaming, too - scenes full of mole-dotted skin and smooth, lanky muscle that have him waking with gasps, drenched in sweat and shaking. Laura says that's part of the bond of the intended - she started having them a couple years ago, when her intended started her adolescence. It's strange, because due to the ages and timing, they come to the conclusion that their intended mates are probably the same age, girls tending to hit puberty before boys.
Derek finally feels better about his probable 4-6 year age difference - Laura has to overcome at least 7.
It isn't a problem, necessarily - their own parents have a difference of ten, and neither of them will ever reach double digits. But it definitely sucks, because that means that both Derek and Laura are going to have to wait years in order to finally find who they're looking for.
So they throw themselves into their work instead. Laura reaches the top of her class, graduating from NYU with both BAs under her belt and a 3.97 GPA, having passed the LSAT with flying colors. Derek majors in Scuplture with a minor Charcoal Arts, and eventually, he graduates too. At 23 he takes a gap year before going for his major and returns to Beacon Hills, leaving Laura on her own. It's better that way, really - Laura is a mess, working far too long into the night and waking up way too early in the mornings. Law school is practically killing her, but Derek's never seen her happier; she's finally doing what she loves, and he can't complain about that.
His parents' house is just like he remembered it, teeming with people and alive with laughter and joy. It's so huge that Derek takes some time to get used to it, having accustomed himself to the claustrophobia of New York City. In Beacon Hills he can take his runs through the forest instead of Central Park, lose himself in the trees instead of getting stared at by 40-year-old female joggers. When he gets coffee it isn't Starbucks, it's home-brewed, ground by his mother in her coffee grinder and made especially just the way he likes it. He can cut his own wood to work with, shaping the material with a familiarity he never could've achieved without school. It's easy to fall into a routine there.
Derek's mother still worries over him, asking often how he feels. He knows she's worried about him not having found his intended, and she has every right to be - it worries him some days, too. But it was easier, in many ways, to live with just Laura. Now that he's in Beacon Hills again, the dreams have intensified - letting him know he's a lot closer than he ever would have thought. His intended would probably be in his senior year by now - he has to stop himself from hanging out around the school every day just to see if he can catch a glimpse.
When he asks around, no one seems to have any idea who he's talking about. He can't go to the school - that would be creepy - but all his family friends just smile at him with sympathy and shake their heads. "Unusual name, though," Mrs. Faulk tells him. "Unique. He'll be the only one around here, I can guarantee it."
Now that he's closer, his dreams shift; less flashy glimpses and more full out scenes. In one on a particularly good night, he almost manages to see his intended's face. He's a boy, with short brown hair and covered in moles. He hasn't described him to anyone yet, it feels too personal, but he loves what he's seen, loves the curve of his neck against his lips and the smooth skin beneath his hands. He dreams of laughing into that skin, of kissing that neck on cold days with his intended wrapped in his arms, his wrist painted with Derek, a small infinity sign tucked underneath. Every glimpse of that infinity sign seems precious and heady.
Laura, of course, finds her intended first.
It's Christmas break, and Laura is actually home this year, claiming she was unable to work without her little brother there to annoy her. It's so much easier with Laura around - he finally has someone to talk to about his dreams, the aching feeling in his heart. Laura tells him about her own, about her intended's strawberry-blonde hair that smells like vanilla and Chanel perfume, about how once, she managed to remember the sound of her laugh even in waking, about the rich sound that she can't escape. Laura looks exhausted, worn out and sad. Derek knows how she feels; working tirelessly, day after day, on top of waiting almost seven years for her mate, must be killing her.
Two days before Christmas, the doorbell rings. It's their mother who opens it, but Derek's on the couch, Laura spread out on her old bed upstairs attempting to study. She can't hear the words said at the door, the confident, lilting voice of the girl outside, but Derek can.
"Is Laura Hale home?"
Derek practically leaps off the couch to the door, gently pushing his mother out of the way. It probably would've gotten him a scolding had she not noticed the absolute wonder on his face. He stares at Laura's intended for a moment - strawberry blonde, just like he'd heard about a thousand times, and beautiful, perfectly beautiful enough to accompany Laura. She carries a look of determination, and she sizes him up for a moment until he asks.
"You're Lydia?"
"Yes."
The answer is enough. Derek is leading her up the stairs before his mother can finish exclaiming her surprise, Lydia following with the beginnings of a smile. He has no idea how she managed to find her, wonders how long she's been looking, wonders if she knows Grzegorz - but all of that will have to wait. Not even bothering to knock, he throws open the door to Laura's room, cutting off her anger by pulling Lydia through the door behind him.
Laura freezes. Books are strewn across her bed, and she's wearing old sweats and a fitted tee, highlighter still in her hand. It drops onto the blanket uncerimoniously.
Derek lets go of Lydia's arm and she walks towards the bed, appearing confident despite the fact that she's trembling. Laura is off the mattress in a flash, leaving her homework forgotten as she stands in front of Lydia. Neither of them speak.
Laura reaches out, tentatively, towards Lydia marked hand. The strawberry-blonde holds it up, and when their fingers link together they both shudder, wrists glowing as three stars ink themselves into their skin below each other's names.
Derek quietly shuts the door, smiling to himself as his heart aches inside his chest.
~*~
After that, Lydia becomes an almost permanent fixture in their house, Laura having taken the semester off to wait until Lydia finished high school. Her parents are actually the Martins, one of the richest families in Beacon Hills, but Lydia isn't shy about explaining her distaste for them. They spend their time trying to buy her affections, and whenever she speaks of them, Laura wraps her arms around her waist and kisses her hair. They're sickeningly cute, and Derek quickly discovers that while Laura is ruthless, Lydia is terrifying and incredibly cunning. She's smart, having been accepted to every single Ivy League in the country, early entry, as well as MIT and a few others. She decides, of course, on Columbia, because Laura is at NYLS and Columbia isn't too far away.
Derek discovers he actually likes Lydia, once you get past the mastermind exterior and really take time to look at her. She's wickedly smart and funny, but she's also fiercly loyal. Once, she and Laura accompanied Derek to the coffee, and when the barista tried hitting on Derek because "come on, you're never gonna find your intended anyway, why not have a little fun with me?" she'd threatened to use every resource she had to ruin her life, as well as to tell Sheriff Stilinski about how she was illegally sleeping with her boss.
He still doesn't know how Lydia figured it out, but she'd never bothered him again after that, and Derek had officially accepted Lydia as part of the family.
Through Lydia he ends up meeting some of her friends, hoping they might be able to tell him about any boy in their class with "Derek" on his wrist.
Jackson and Danny come over first, her ex boyfriend and his soulmate, who'd been best friends until Danny had turned eighteen and seen Jackson's name on his wrist. Danny is cool, someone Derek can see himself being friends with, despite the age gap, but Jackson is bratty and difficult. In confidence, Lydia explains that Derek's attractiveness makes Jackson feel inadequate. Laura gags at her mate calling her brother attractive, and he doesn't seen them again for several hours.
After them comes Isaac, who has yet to turn eighteen and find his intended. He's a sweet kid, quickly falling in with Derek due to their shared love of charcoal drawing. He eventually writes Isaac a recommendation to Parsons, and although he hasn't received the acceptance yet, Derek knows he will.
Erica and Boyd are next, and Boyd immediately befriends him. They share a dislike for talking and a love of baseball, and Derek finds that talking to Boyd is sometimes even easier than talking to Laura. Boyd is the only person besides Laura and Lydia that knows about his dreams, and Boyd explains he had the same experience with Erica, who is two years his junior. His mate his feisty and an obvious match for Lydia and Laura, teasing him just as easily.
Derek wonders if they were all put on this earth to embarrass him.
Allison is the most common visitor. She has a mate, Scott, but according to Allison, Lydia scares him, so Derek never actually meets the kid. They sound sickly sweet and hopeless, though, Lydia often making fun of Allison for daydreaming about him when she looks distant. Derek feels practically as brotherly with her as he does with Lydia, and they fall into an easy repitoire of Allison seeing straight through him and Derek reluctantly admitting things to her.
They're all great, but none of them know anything about Grzegorz. It's beginning to be frustrating; who is he? Is he an enigma? Does he even exist? No one can answer him, and when his twenty-fourth birthday comes and goes with no sign, he's starting to think he might go a little insane.
That is, until he hears about Stiles.
He's heard countless stories about him from Lydia and her friends already. Derek knows that Stiles is a strange kid, someone who talks too much about the strangest things and tends to get himself and others into trouble. But he also knows that Stiles is pretty well-meaning, and that he has a habit of taking care of his friends - he helped Scott and Allison when her father tried to get them to reject their bond, he cooks for his father every day so that he'll eat healthy; he even hugged Jackson, once, when Danny was home sick and Jackson's parents had been horrible to him. Jackson and Stiles don't even like each other. He's an enigma, but Derek doesn't really care about him until the day the subject of his name comes up.
"I still don't know it," Lydia states angrily, as if it's a personal injustice not to know something. Derek's ears perk up - Stiles isn't his real name?
"Well, Scott doesn't know it either, if that helps," Allison supplies. "He doesn't even know the first initial. Stiles has gone by the same nickname his entire life; the only people who know are probably the school and his Dad. According to Scott, he even goes into classes with substitutes early so that he can change the name on the attendance sheet."
Lydia scoffs. "It can't be that bad, and he knows it irritates me not to know things. I tried to pry it out of him today, but he squeaked and ran away, and I didn't really have the heart to run after him when he already runs like a newborn deer." Allison had laughed, but Derek couldn't breathe.
Stiles is a nickname. Probably based off his last name, now that Derek thinks about it. And that makes so much sense. Of course he would refuse to go by Grzegorz - who wouldn't? - and take a different name. Derek had been stupid not to think of it earlier. Stilinski is a Polish name, after all, and when he googled Grzegorz, so was that. He runs over all he can remember about Stiles in his mind, things that had been nonsense suddenly becoming precious to him. They're all the information he has on the closest thing to hope he's had in six years.
He doesn't tell anyone, he can't, that would be too much, having someone else hope with him. But when Lydia comes home explaining that she'll be at Stiles' house tonight for his birthday and naming, Derek forgets how to breathe and falls down the last two steps. Laura laughs at him and refuses to help him up. He doesn't care.
Tonight is the moment of truth. Tonight is the night that could change his life forever.
Stiles was apparently born at 9:46pm, and when Lydia leaves at 8, he can't stop shaking.
"What's wrong?" Laura asks, frowning as she settles in on the couch next to him. He's kept his hopes a secret, but he can't help but tell her now, so close to finally seeing if his suspicions are correct.
"Stiles," he whispers, turning towards her. "I think it's Stiles."
For a moment, Laura stares at him as if he's grown a third head. Then he can see the realization on her face, as if a brick just hit her right on the forehead and she'd seen it coming but not had time to get out of the way. "Oh my god," she breathes, "Stiles. Of course. You think it's him?"
Derek nods jerkily. "I don't know who else it could be. I didn't tell anyone - couldn't hope like that, but I - what if it's him? Laura, what if it's been him all along?"
Laura tackles him into a hug, the scent of her shampoo as warm and comforting as it's always been. "It's him," she whispers in his ear. "I know it is."
~*~
Lydia gets home at 10, buzzing with excitement. "I left as soon as I saw it," she breathes as she walks in, coming straight to Derek. "You total idiot! You knew, didn't you?"
Derek is too stunned to respond. She can't - she can't mean -
"Your handwriting is atrocious."
It isn't the sentence he was expecting, but he'll take it, because it knocks his breath away like he's been wounded. Your handwriting is atrocious. Handwriting. His hand. Writing it's name across skin. Stiles' skin. The left arm he's seen a thousand times, dotted in moles and marked by his name. Derek's name.
Stiles.
He doesn't move at all until Lydia smacks him, right across the face. It stings as much as it helps. "You need to leave. The sheriff is probably at work by now, and I told everyone to get the hell out, but I kept it a surprise. Get. In. Your. Car."
It's actually Laura's car, of course, but that isn't what he's worried about right now. Derek slings on his jacket before he can process what's happening, what he's doing. When he's in the car behind the wheel, he thinks he might be hyperventilating. Stiles. He's been waiting six years. Stiles. He'll be there in ten minutes. Stiles Stiles Stiles Stiles Stiles.
Derek says his name in his head like a god damn mantra. When he pulls up on the curb he barely takes the time to turn off the car before he's slamming the door behind him, bounding up the steps and to the front door. The nerves hit him in a tsunami wave.
Stiles is behind that door. He's going to meet him and he's going to love him and oh, god. Derek composes himself on the front stoop, taking deep, even breaths until he looks far cooler than he feels. He thinks up several greetings before deciding to wing it, because they all sound ridiculous, and knocks on the door.
The seconds of waiting are agonizing. He can almost feel the nearness, buzzing in his skin and he's so close, so fucking close, and then Stiles is there in front of him, his face more beautiful than Derek could have imagined in a thousand years. That's probably the only excuse he has for cupping Stiles' jaw in his hands and pressing their mouths together before Stiles speaks a single word.
He feels Stiles shudder even as he experiences it himself; the warm feeling of rightness settling in his ribs, the rush of heat across his skin. Stiles is frozen and unresponsive against him a moment before he kisses back, pulling Derek inside by his shirt and kicking the door shut. He loves this, needs this, loves the feeling of Stiles' hands in his hair as he trails his hands down to his mate's hips. Mate. Soulmates. Finally.
Neither of them want to pull away, but oxygen is something necessary for survival, and when Stiles breaks the kiss in a gasp, Derek can't help but chase the taste of his skin, pressing his lips to the bottom of Stiles' neck and inhaling his scent for the first time.
"Oh, my god," Stiles says, like he can't believe his luck. He doesn't know that Derek is actually the luckiest being in all existence.
Derek hums against his neck, and Stiles breathes a sound that Derek wants to hear a thousand times over. Pulling away, he places his right hand on Stiles neck and the back of his jaw, thumb caressing his cheekbone. "You're Grzegorz," he says, and Stiles is laughing, a rich sound that makes Derek want to laugh, too.
"All this time I spent trying to get rid of that name and you've had it on your wrist this whole time." For a moment, he looks mortified. "Oh, god, that must've been a party. How many people laughed at it on your birthday?"
He answers truthfully, "All of them."
Stiles laughs again, a little giddy. "Oh, my god, it's you. This is like, the stuff of fantasies, man." Derek definitely agrees; Stiles is even better than he'd fantasized about.
He presses his lips to Stiles' again, gently, because he can and because it feels so good. "This is way better than any of mine," he whispers honestly. Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Really? Because, dude, I've been hoping you'd be mine since last summer."
Derek can't contain his shock. "Really?"
Stiles nods. "It was when I saw you on a run. I was doing an experiment for school, summer work, you know? And I needed some samples from the woods and you were just there, and I've been dreaming about you since middle school and there was just this feeling. Your shoulders looked the same. I can't explain, really, but it was like I regonized you, I guess? And then you're like, the hottest guy I've ever seen, so it was a little of that. But mostly I just felt like I knew you. Tonight, when I was right, all I could do was stare at the name - which took me like a minute to read, we really need to work on your handwriting - and then you were here. Jesus Christ, Derek."
He chuckles, warm and low in his throat. Derek feels so overwhelmed, like he can't quite believe it, still. He'd begun to think he'd never find his intended, and now here they were, ready to bond at any moment. "Sorry I kiss attacked you," he whispers, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes. "I wanted to make a good impression, but once I had you in front of me, Jesus."
Stiles laughs at that. "It was a good impression. Very good. You should definitely do that instead of saying hi or anything. Except, just with me. That needs to be a you-and-me thing."
Derek holds up his right hand, and Stiles glances over and mirrors with his left. "Always you, Stiles," Derek breathes, kissing him at the same time he links their hands together. His wrist feels warm and he knows the infinity sign he's been seeing in his dreams is making it's way along their skin, but he can't be bothered to care when his lower lip is in Stiles' mouth.
Surprisingly to both of them, they do manage to make it upstairs and save the Sheriff from an eyeful in the morning.
Barely.
~*~
EPILOGUE
"Stiles, if you don't put the book down I'm going to tear out several pages!"
"You wouldn't! What if this test is all that is between me and graduating with full marks, hmmm? Don't you want to have a mate with a BA?"
Derek presses a kiss to the back of his neck, tying his tie at the same time. "I want you to get dressed."
Stiles turns to pout at him, but he gets off the bed, coming around to inspect his soulmate. He finishes tying Derek's tie himself, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw and following it with a nip that makes him shiver. "You look delectable," he breathes in his ear before pulling away, that smile Derek has always loved lighting up on his face. "Now I have to get dressed, stop distracting me!"
Derek laughs but sits on the bed quietly, doing as he's told. Stiles strips out of his shirt and boxers in a flash - Derek's shirt and boxers - before pulling on his own boxer-briefs and chasing them quickly with grey slacks. Derek's breath catches in his throat. He'll never really get over how beautiful Stiles is, especially naked; if he had his way, nudity would be a 24/7 kind of thing.
Of course, it isn't, but if Derek hadn't just seen Stiles naked, he'd say there was nothing hotter than Stiles in a perfectly-tailored grey suit. He ties Stiles' tie for him before using it to pull him into a kiss, messing up his already crazy hair and making sure Stiles' pupils are blown wide when he pulls away. "God, I hate you," Stiles breathes before pulling him back in.
They're ten minutes late and Scott is freaking out by the time they get there, but when Stiles escorts Lydia - the maid of honor - down the aisle and stands next to Scott and the altar, Derek thinks he's never looked more beautiful. And when Scott says his vows and Stiles makes a face behind him, Derek has to cover his mouth to prevent himself from laughing.
All in all, the Argent-McCall wedding is a success, and later, when he proposes to Stiles near the garden, that's a success, too.