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Step by Step, We'll Get There	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: S through Z > Teen Wolf Views: 4674 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf nor profit of it. Jeff Davis owns it.

Chapter List
- 25
- 26
- 27
Author's note: A lot later than I intended to, for which I apologise. For some reason the chapter refused to cooperate with me, despite the fact that I knew which scenes I wanted in it. Well, at least I managed to finish it; better late than never I suppose ^^;
Warnings: Mature content, including knotting; small time skips. I think those are the most important warnings for this one.
I hope you'll like it!
Chapter 26
They both froze, staring at each other like a deer caught in the headlights. While outwardly Stiles could do nothing but stare wide-eyed, inwardly he was screaming and freaking out, berating himself for just blurting it out like that.
Oh god, what the hell had he been thinking, just blurting it out like that?! You were supposed to have a serious conversation about it first, weren't you? Like what you expected of it and what you wanted exactly, definitely not just stating it like that out of the blue!
He cringed, retracting his hands like they'd been coated with Wolfsbane. "Sorry, just – ignore me, we can go on with what we're doing, it's fine. Ignore what I said."
Derek's hands felt like shackles around his hips and his multicoloured eyes radiated intensity when he asked softly, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I mean, only if you want to," Stiles replied, licking his lips nervously. "Obviously I'm not going to force you, so it's you know, cool if you don't want to." He laughed jittery and instantly clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to sound more like a weirdo than he already did.
"I didn't think you would want it already," Derek said and glanced away briefly before he looked at the Omega again.
Whether he'd intended to or not, his remark made Stiles feel even more like a weirdo and his cheeks heated up with embarrassment. Was it strange of him to want to have sex with Derek now? Sure, they'd only been together for a couple of months by now, but …
He felt at ease with the wolf, knew without a doubt the older man would never do anything to hurt him. He trusted him – and wasn't that enough? Or was there something wrong with him for wanting to sleep with Derek already? Was he supposed to wait longer?
"Okay, that came out wrong," Derek said chagrined and Stiles stared at him, for once not having any idea what to say. "I just meant – are you really sure you want this? I don't want you to feel like you have to sleep with me, just because you're spending the night with me."
"I want to; I'm feeling no obligation whatsoever here. If you want to, I'm game," Stiles hurried to reassure him.
Derek's chuckle had his chest warming and he brought his hands back around Derek's neck, playing with the soft strands of hair.
"So … you want to?" he asked softly, biting on his lower lip.
Derek's hands slipped around to rest on his ass. "You've taken your suppressants?"
"Yeah, this morning. I've been taking them on time ever since I got back on them, so we're safe," Stiles assured him; excitement growing. This was really going to happen, wasn't it?
"Guess our plans for the rest of the night are decided then," Derek smirked and pulled him into a deep kiss before the younger man could open his mouth to say something.
Stiles was totally fine with not speaking, though, especially if that meant he could keep kissing Derek; feeling those skilful lips manipulating him into parting his own. Little sparks like electricity danced across his spine when the tips of their tongues met and he pressed himself closer urgently; his hands going down to tug at the edge of Derek's shirt, pulling it up.
"This needs to go off," he muttered against Derek's lips and they curled into a smile against his, before the older man briefly pulled away to take it off, throwing it carelessly somewhere on the floor.
Stiles spent a couple of seconds mourning the loss of Derek's mouth, but then was treated to the sight of the man half naked, his chest hair tapering down into a thin line which disappeared beneath the waistline of his sweatpants.
"Let's get you out of this," Derek murmured and Stiles' vision was momentarily obscured when his shirt – or really Derek's – was pulled over his face.
He remembered in time to lift his arms up and he blinked when Derek whipped it to the floor before twisting them both around so that the fox shifter ended up on his back on the bed. Stiles' breath escaped him in a hiss when Derek settled between his spread legs and rolled their hips almost torturously slow against each other; their dicks sliding against each other through the thin fabric of their sweatpants.
They had fooled around before of course, both with clothes and with pants down when they had jerked and sucked each other off. They weren't strangers anymore to intimacy between them, yet somehow tonight felt different.
Different in the way Derek touched him, slowly, methodically, almost reverently as he stroked and caressed him, playing with his nipples until they turned into rosy peaks, pebbling eagerly underneath his thumb and tongue. Different in the way they kissed: first soft, almost tentatively, then hard and passionate, bruising each other's lips. They nipped and licked at mouths until they parted and sucked softly at each other's tongue until Stiles' toes curled into the sheets.
They pulled apart only to rid each other of their remaining clothes and Stiles' breath hitched when he saw the fire in Derek's eyes growing fiercer; his pupils dilating with lust. When they kissed next, it was so fierce it pulled an involuntarily whimper out of Stiles and that had Derek snarling, boring him down into the bed; one hand gripping brown strands to hold Stiles' head steady so he could plunder his mouth, while the other roamed across his chest and belly, flicking his nipple and pulling another gasp out of him.
Not to be outdone even if it was hard to concentrate with the pleasure overloading his system, Stiles ran his own hands down a firm chest, tweaking firm nipples before honing into the hard cock digging into the crease of his hip. When he gripped it and flicked his thumb across the dripping head, he received a low, rumbling growl for his efforts and he grinned, running his fingers up and down teasingly across the thick girth.
A part of him was worried Derek wouldn't be able to fit in him – because holy shit, he hadn't really realised just how big Derek was until he was about to go inside of him – but the rest of him was almost too eager to know how it would feel like to have Derek inside of him, to have his mate moving in him.
He must have said that last part aloud, because Derek groaned and nipped his chin, muttering raspy, "Can't wait either. Let me get the lube." When he lifted his head, his cheeks were flushed and his iris' were nearly completely swallowed up by the blackness of his pupils. Only a sliver of gold was still visibly and the sight of him had Stiles licking his lips.
"Go for it," he said breathlessly, even as he pushed his hips up and couldn't convince his hand to let go of the large cock in his hand.
Derek gave him another deep kiss before basically leaping out of the bed in his hurry to open the third drawer of the nightstand. That had Stiles laughing until the wolf got back onto the bed and captured his mouth in a filthy kiss, effectively shutting him up.
Linking his arms around strong shoulders, he opened his legs wider when he felt fingers drifting over his cock, down his balls and between his ass cheeks where they briefly paused at his entrance. When those digits didn't move fast enough for Stiles' liking, he whined and pushed his ass down, biting down on his lip when he felt one of them pressing against his hole.
"So impatient," Derek muttered, sucking another spot in the fox's neck.
If it weren't for their fast healing, Stiles was pretty sure he'd be sporting beard burn and hickies for days. As it was, it would still take several hours before his neck was healed completely after Derek's treatment of it so far – not that he was complaining. Far from it.
"No need to stall on my account!" Stiles retorted without missing a beat and then yelped when Derek pushed a finger inside of him, slipping straight past his rim. "Oh my god!"
"You were saying?" Derek asked rather smugly and that just wouldn't do.
So Stiles grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down to kiss him, wrapping his left leg around his waist. "I said, get a move on!"
Derek's eyes darkened and then Stiles knew nothing else but fingers filling him, stretching him further than he'd been stretched before. Sometimes the tips of those fingers would touch something deep inside of him, something which had ramped up the pleasure tenfold and had him panting and moaning, scrabbling at Derek's back just to ground himself at least a little bit. He'd be embarrassed of the sounds escaping his mouth if he could bring himself to give a shit about them.
He couldn't, though, not with the sensations Derek's fingers were eliciting; not with the pleasure and heat melting his brain, overriding the slight ache of being fuller than normally; not with the filthy, almost depraved kisses they shared.
When he thought he was close to coming, he pulled himself together enough to push at Derek's hand, gasping, "I'm ready, I'm ready! I need you in me, like right now!"
This time Derek didn't give him a snarky reply, but pulled his fingers out, his teeth flashing when that made Stiles whine softly, and then he was hastily coating his dick with some of the lube before discarding the bottle somewhere next to them. Chest heaving, he gripped Stiles' hips and gazed at him.
"You ready?"
In response Stiles just pulled him down, wrapping his legs around him. Derek huffed in amusement, but aligned his cock with the Omega's entrance and started pushing inside.
He was definitely bigger and thicker than his fingers had been and Stiles released a shaky breath as Derek pushed deeper and deeper into him. No matter how much the Beta had stretched him, an ache was still starting to form at the base of his back and his arms tightened around Derek's shoulders. Pushing his face into the wolf shifter's neck, he forced himself to take slow breaths, trying to relax his muscles as much as he could.
That was difficult, though, when he felt like he was being impaled by something too big.
He bit down hard on his lower lip when Derek finally bottomed out, his hips flush against his arse. Derek was breathing harshly, his eyebrows furrowed, but his fingers were surprisingly tender when they brushed across Stiles' cheek.
"You okay?" he murmured, pressing soft kisses on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose.
"Y-yeah, just – give me a sec, okay?" he said weakly, squeezing his eyes shut.
Fuck, but this actually hurt quite a bit. Even with the extensive prep he'd been giving, he still felt like he hadn't been stretched anywhere near enough for someone of Derek's size. Or maybe he was just tensing up too much. With a huff, he forced himself to completely unclench his muscles and oh yeah, that definitely did help. He still felt full, almost too, but it was starting to feel less overwhelming and most importantly, less painful.
Once he was relatively certain he was ready, he kissed Derek's shoulder and muttered, "You can move now."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah, go on," he sighed and clenched his teeth when Derek drew back slowly.
Okay, yeah, no, that still hurt a bit, almost like he was chafing down there, but once Derek started kissing him and started moving in earnest, occasionally bumping that particular spot inside of him, things got better. A lot better. It was even starting to feel good, like really, really good.
"I'm glad," Derek said, laughter clear in his voice and Stiles flushed, realising he must have been speaking aloud again.
To prevent himself from saying anymore embarrassing shit, he kissed Derek again and again, and started moving his hips tentatively too, growing more confident once he'd figured out the rhythm and had Derek growling against his mouth.
That definitely did things to him.
Heat was bubbling up in his lower stomach and he could feel himself getting closer and closer, inching to the point where he would lose himself. Brain completely mushy with delirious pleasure, he still sensed something was off after a while. He frowned, blinking unseeingly at the ceiling as Derek kissed and sucked his neck, and tried to figure out what was wrong.
He was definitely getting closer to the point of no return, his toes and fingertips tingling, heat setting him alight from within, but that wasn't it. It was … It was …
"Holy shit, are you growing?" he blurted out amazed when he'd finally pinpointed what was so off.
Derek was still moving in him, quicker than at the beginning, but he also seemed to be growing bigger and bigger to the point where he seemed to be having trouble getting deeper in him. He'd already felt pretty big and hard before, though, so why …
Derek abruptly stopped moving and Stiles hissed when he pulled back; the action tugging at his entrance for some reason. When the older man looked down first before staring at him in shock, Stiles couldn't say he was feeling particularly at ease now.
"Is something wrong?" he asked uncertainly, pleasure starting to eb away at the thought that something bad was happening.
"Eh, not exactly," Derek said slowly; a strange look crossing his face before he awkwardly admitting, "I'm – I'm close to knotting you."
"Knotting me," Stiles repeated blankly and stared down as well, though he could see much in the position they were. "Knotting as in …"
"As in my dick growing bigger so I'm stuck in you when I come," Derek replied through gritted teeth; his nails digging into Stiles' thighs. "Shit, that's never happened before, I didn't - "
"Never?" Stiles cut him off, something squirming inside of him. "Not even with her?"
"No, this is the first time I … Sorry, I didn't realise this was going to happen," Derek muttered, frustrated. "Don't worry about it, I can pull out before I knot you, so - "
"You can knot me!" Stiles blurted out, clearing his throat when Derek stared at him in shock. "I mean, if you want, you can knot me. I – I don't mind, so if you want ..."
"We'd be stuck for at least half an hour if not longer," Derek pointed out, licking his lips. "I don't know how long I'll be knotting you, this hasn't happened before."
"I don't care," Stiles stated, pleasure steadily building up once more now that he knew nothing was wrong. His fingers tingled when he ran them down Derek's arms and he squeezed his muscles around the cock still embedded in him, smiling when that made Derek moan. "You can knot me. I want it. I want your knot."
The words made him blush, but they did the trick. Derek's eyes positively burned when he bent over to catch Stiles' mouth in a deep, bruising kiss and he started moving again, thrusting deeper and harder this time, constantly striking that one spot that had Stiles babbling non-sensical words drowned out in moans and whimpers.
Now that he knew Stiles wanted it, Derek seemed to have stopped holding himself back. His thrusts grew deep and more powerful; his hands tightened around Stiles' hips like vices to help him push him down on him. His knot kept growing in the meantime, the bulbous form pushing against Stiles' hole every time Derek thrusted inside. Their rhythm grew more erratic as Derek tried to push his knot past the ring of muscles putting up resistance.
There was only so much resistance they could give, however, and Stiles couldn't help the scream that was torn out of him when Derek's knot – a lot bigger than his dick already was – finally popped past his rim. The shock of it, the pain mixed with blinding pleasure, had Stiles coming so hard he was on the verge of blacking out, shuddering and squirming underneath Derek.
"You're doing so good, so great, taking my knot in you," Derek was whispering fervently when he finally came to again, kissing his tears away and stroking his arms and chest and belly. His hips were moving in short, stuttering thrusts and he was moaning softly, shivering like he was cold.
When Stiles felt something drip out of him, he realised Derek was coming – a lot apparently.
"So good, so wet for me," Derek muttered, pupils blown and Beta gold glowing; his fangs descended. "All mine, my mate. Mine." He nuzzled Stiles' neck, squeezing him tighter against him as he kept coming.
Derek sounded absolutely blissed out and Stiles would definitely tease him about the praising comments he kept muttering in his skin and against his mouth. Later, though. Much later.
For now he was more than content to lie in Derek's arms, kissing him, and just feeling loved and cared for.
Christmas at the Hales started with Laura greeting them at the front door before she smirked knowingly and smacked Derek on his shoulder, ignoring his scowl.
"Guess you two already had a pre-celebration of your own this weekend, huh?" She winked, her eyes glittering like mad. They definitely out glittered the shimmery soft green eyeshadow she'd chosen to wear today. "Made use of being snowed in I see."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Stiles squeaked, praying he wasn't as red as he feared he was turning right now.
She gave him an unimpressed look while Derek growled warningly. "Oh please, you're not fooling anyone," she scoffed and waved them inside. "Now come on in before dad starts complaining about the bill again."
Cora was the next one to greet them, coming down the stairs just as Stiles and Derek were removing their jackets and while she smiled at first, she quickly recoiled and uttered a disgusted noise.
"I showered!" Stiles said exasperatedly, but checked himself just to be sure. Yeah, see? Squeaky clean.
"Ain't no way you're getting my brother's stink off you any time soon," she drawled, wrinkling her nose. "Especially not if you're taking a shower with him."
"Is everyone going to comment on our sex life?" Stiles demanded right when his dad walked into the hallway. Mortified he stared at the older man, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here right now. "Ehm, hi dad, Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, son, Derek," he said dryly. "I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear the conversation before if that's okay with you."
"Perfectly all right with me, dad," Stiles hurried to reassure him and scowled at Cora when she snorted.
She smirked and raised her hands. "Not my fault you come here reeking of my brother. You're not exactly subtle about what you've been doing this weekend, you know."
"Piss off," he grumbled before Scott poked his head into the hallway and grinned.
"Dude, Merry Christmas!"
Leaving Derek to his bickering with Cora after she'd made a remark about him finally getting laid, Stiles went over to his best friend and hugged him.
"Merry Christmas, man, is your mom here too?"
"Yeah, I think she's in the kitchen, helping Mrs. Hale."
Stiles went to the kitchen next, figuring he might as well finish his rounds wishing everyone a Merry Christmas – and hopefully the rest of them would be more subtle than Cora and Laura and wouldn't remark on how he apparently still reeked of Derek.
Which he didn't because he'd taken a thorough shower, but whatever. Must have missed a spot after all.
They were playing card games after a big lunch while an old Christmas movie was playing in the background, when Stiles noticed Peter slipping out of the room. Remembering his conversation with Derek about the older man on Friday, he excused himself from the table, letting his dad take his place, and left the room. Might as well go find out whether Derek was right or not.
There were footsteps sounding upstairs so he took the stairs, two steps at a time, and let the soft noise of Peter walking around guide him to the right place. When he peered into the room, he spotted Peter sitting in a comfortable chair, a book open on his lap. The wolf looked up when he sensed him standing there and raised an eyebrow.
"Can I help you?" he asked mildly.
Stiles walked inside, figuring that was as good a "Welcome, do come in" he was going to get. "Just wondering why you're hauling yourself up here instead of celebrating Christmas downstairs with the rest of us."
"I'm not really that fond of partaking in festivities such as this one," Peter smiled thinly. "I promised my sister I'd be there until lunch and now that we've all eaten, I'm going to enjoy my book in complete peace and solitude." He gave a very pointed look when he finished talking.
"Sounds like a solid plan," Stiles said and clasped his hands behind his back. "But before you do that, I want to ask you something."
"Whether you really do smell like my darling nephew?" Peter asked dryly. "Yes, Stiles, you positively reek of him. If that's all, I've got here an interesting book which requires my attention."
"That's not what I wanted to ask, you dickhead." Stiles glared at him and the other man smirked.
"Well, you know now for sure. What do you want, Stiles."
"Punctuation marks," Stiles muttered before asking in a louder voice, "How does one become a Left Hand?"
"You're still on about that?" Peter snorted, stretching out his legs.
"Well, you never answered my question back then, only told me it was a story for another time. Today is another time," Stiles pointed out, rocking back on his heels.
"You're not going to let this go until I tell you about it, hm?"
"With how interesting this whole Left Hand business? Fat chance," Stiles retorted, raising an eyebrow of his own. "So, how does one go about becoming a Left Hand? Do you need to ace some test, some exam or so?"
"Interested in the Left Hand business, Stiles?" Peter purred, his eyes glinting.
"Call me interested in the process," Stiles said, baring his teeth in what one could consider to be a smile if they were optimistic.
Peter cocked his head to the right and hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose telling you wouldn't do much harm – and it would finally give me some peace and quiet."
"Win-win all around."
"It's simple, really: the current Left Hand decides who will become the next one. Although not through an exam I'm afraid. Too mundane," Peter smirked.
"But they have to go through some kind of test, right? I doubt just anyone can become a Left Hand."
The older man inclined his head. "True, very few people have it in them to become a Left Hand. The test exists in the sense that I study people for certain qualities that a good Left Hand should have. If I find a person with such particular qualities, I'll offer to teach them all I know so they can take the task over from me when I retire."
"Does the Left Hand have to be from the same pack?" Stiles asked and then shook his head. "Stupid question, yeah, of course they're from the same pack."
"Normally they are, yes, because it's easier, but sometimes it happens that an outsider is chosen if they're close enough to the pack."
Now that was some very interesting information. The Omega leant slightly forwards. "You're not training anyone now, are you?"
"I do not, no," Peter answered amused.
"Do you have some people in mind, though?"
The glint in those ice blue eyes grew stronger. "I do, yes, though I'm afraid I can't indulge the names of them. I need to have some secrecy left after all."
That was rather disappointing, but Stiles understood why. Keeping the future Left Hand a secret made sense; it would make taking their enemies off guard a lot easier. For a brief moment he wondered whether Theo had known Peter was the Left Hand of the Hales, but then he brushed the thought away. He wasn't going to spoil this holiday with thoughts of that son of a bitch, even if he might be dead.
"I'm curious, though – from where does this persistent interest in the Left Hand come from?" Peter inquired, his eyes half lidded. His hands rested on the open book and he looked completely relaxed in his chair.
Stiles shrugged. "I'm a curious guy, especially when it comes to subjects I can barely find any information about."
"Hm." Peter studied him with such sharp eyes, Stiles had to resist the urge to squirm. Then the wolf relaxed and his eyes cleared up. "Well, you've your answers now, so run along. Don't want my dear nephew to think we're having a secret rendezvous up here."
"As if," Stiles grimaced and shuddered, swiftly turning around. Before he left the room, he muttered, "Thanks for telling me."
"Not a problem, my curious little fox."
Eugh, why did he have to be so creepy? Leaving a snickering Peter to his reading material, Stiles made his way back downstairs where at the moment a loud argument was occurring between Laura and Cora, both accusing each other of cheating.
So Peter was the one who decided who'd become the next Left Hand, huh? It would be interesting to see who he would choose as his successor. Some as calculating and ruthless as Peter himself probably, but Stiles couldn't think of anyone who'd fit that bill.
Oh well, he'd find out eventually he supposed.
In the meantime he had a best friend and a boyfriend to crush in a new card game.
January settled in with more snow at the start before it was satisfied with just freezing temperatures. That still didn't make it easier for Roscoe to start, though, so at least in that regard Stiles was glad he didn't know yet whether Theo was dead or not.
Driving to the college in this weather would be a disaster; he'd have more chance of winning the lottery than Roscoe pulling through every day. He really loved his jeep, but with cold temperatures like these he could acknowledge the merits of having a car which wouldn't sputter and die on him at the first sign of the temperatures dropping.
Fortunately he still had his online classes, so bar the grocery trips and the drive to Derek's or Scott's place, Roscoe didn't have to fight through the cold too often. During the other trips he just prayed she would hold out and patted her steering wheel whenever she managed to bring him to his destination without dying on him.
Positive reinforcement was important, even when it was a piece of machinery.
He was searching for his yellow highlighter, Derek looking on amused from his seat on the desk chair, when dad knocked on his door.
"Hey pops," Stiles muttered distracted, lifting up his handbooks and his notes in search of the elusive highlighter. Damn it, he had just used it before, it couldn't have disappeared that quickly!
"What are you doing?"
"Searching for my highlighter. The stupid thing disappeared – AHA!" Triumphantly he snatched it from beneath his pillow, where it had somehow ended up, and held it up in the air – before promptly throwing it at Derek when he slow clapped, a smirk on his face. "Shut the hell up."
"Stiles, there's something I need to tell you."
Dad's terse tone had him sobering up instantly and he look at him, frowning. From the corner of his eye, he saw Derek straightening up as well.
"Okay, what is it?" he asked apprehensively. He doubted it could be any sort of good news, not with the grave face his dad was sporting.
Dad rubbed over his eyes and sighed. "I just got off the phone with the Sheriff of Oakdale. They have the results back from Raeken's car."
"Just now? It's nearly February," Stiles remarked, but his heart started beating quicker and his hands grew a bit clammy.
Derek stood up and went to sit next to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and letting him lean against him in silent support.
"They were backed up for several weeks apparently," Dad said wearily and grimaced. "They examined both the finger and whatever DNA they could still retrieve from the burnt out car and compared that to the DNA they had on file of him."
"How come they had his DNA on file already?" Derek asked, tensing up slightly.
"Hospital records," Dad replied. "Apparently his father had contested his parentage and his mother let a hospital compare their DNA to prove he was indeed Raeken's father."
"And what did they discover? Was it – was it Theo?" Stiles asked, forcing the words out. His mouth felt uncomfortably dry and his heartbeat was loud in his ears. He found Derek's hand and gripped it tightly.
"The results confirmed that the victim in the car was Theo Raeken. He has been pronounced dead on the twenty-eight of January," Dad answered softly and went over to hug Stiles on his other side, when his breath escaped him in a loud 'whoosh'. "It's over now, son. He can't hurt you anymore."
Derek tightened his grip around Stiles' shoulders, pressing a harsh kiss against his temple before burying his face in Stiles' neck.
It was over.
Theo was gone. He was gone, leaving Stiles completely free. No longer would he need to look over his shoulders, worrying Theo had managed to sneak back into Beacon Hills somehow. No longer would he need to fear that Theo would be back to finish what he had started. After all these months, he could finally put that mess behind him once and for all.
It was over now. He was free.
Fuck.
"So now it's just figuring out whether I should finish the rest of my year with online classes or ditch the online ones for actual class attendance. I have to decide soon, though, because it'd be ridiculous to attend classes for just a couple of months," Stiles talked, playing with a dead leave he'd picked off from the ground. It was a strangely coloured one; not completely brown, but not red or green anymore either.
He was back at the Nemeton three days after being informed that Theo was dead. He still had some difficulties wrapping his mind around the fact. Theo was dead. Gone. Passed away when his car had erupted in flames.
It was such a strange thought to consider that he still didn't know how to feel about it. He felt relieved, of course, that he no longer needed to be on his guard, but it was a mixed feeling, knowing he was only this free again because Theo had kicked the bucket.
Well, he guessed it was still better than Theo still roaming around freely, plotting revenge, but …
It just felt weird. Despite Derek telling him about his own experience, he thought he shouldn't feel happy about someone else's death, even if that person had been a horrible psychopath.
"I mean, I can hardly wait until spring, because that would be pointless seeing as there would only be two to three months left then," he continued and gazed at the barren branches stretching out high above him to the sky.
The Nemeton had lost the last of its leaves around a month ago, the last of the trees in the Preserve. Even without its leafy roof, though, it looked quite intimidating; the empty branches standing out starkly against the overcast sky. If he hadn't become so used to visiting the Nemeton weekly, the sight of it would have made him think too much of horror stories to be at ease.
Discarding the dead leave on the floor, he got up and brushed the dirt off the back of his jeans. "Guess you can't wait until it's spring again, though, right? Means you'll be getting your leaves back then," he said and absently ran his hand down the nearest branch, rough bark scratching his palm.
When he pulled his hand back, he could only stare numbly as bright green leaves sprang into existence.
AN2: From one mess to the next one *hums* Anyone wants to guess what's happening now?
Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
I hope to see you all back in the next chapter!
Cuddles
Melissa
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