Near the Southern Air Temple - Two days before the comet

Kuzon woke up with a start when he heard a twig snap. Ignoring the dread rising in his stomach, he raised his fist engulfed in fire, ready to fight. “Who is there? Stay back!”

“It’s me,” a familiar, gentle voice replied. Gyatso seemed more to float above the ground than to walk.

“Did they change their minds?” Kuzon asked hopefully.

The meeting with the elders of the Air Temple had been a total disaster. The monks were not at all what Kuzon had expected them to be. They didn’t have Gyatso’s easy laugh. Instead, their faces were strict and they outright accused Kuzon of being a Fire Nation spy trying to set a trap. Despite Gyatso’s intervention, they dismissed the warning Kuzon’s father sent to them.

“ Let the Fire Nation come if they are foolish enough - no army stands the chance against an air-temple,” Abbot Ngapo declared.  Kuzon was told to leave immediately. He had left the place bitter, thinking that he had failed, that his father’s sacrifice was all in vain. But now...Maybe Gyatso’s appearance meant that things changed.

“Do they believe me now?”

“I’m afraid they don’t. But I do. I do believe you,” Gyatso put his hand on Kuzon’s shoulder. “Your father was a man of integrity and the best friend I’ve ever had. And you are a brave, loyal son. This is why I know you can do this.”

“Do what?” Kuzon frowned. He was more than ready to leave this place behind and be reunited with his mother.

Gyatso whistled and a few more figures appeared from the shadows. Kuzon realized that they were all kids - bald and clad in orange and yellow monk apprentice clothes, just like the ones Aang always wore. None of them had their air-bending master tattoos yet.  Kuzon recognized Zam and Chimi from the beach. Aang was not among them.

“You have to hide them somewhere safe,” Gyatso motioned towards the children.

That was impossible. “But… I don’t really have anywhere to go. My mother went to her birth island… but I promised my father not to put her in danger.”

“Do you know Ta Min?” Gyatso asked.

Kuzon had a foggy memory of a visit to an old beach house with his father near Shark-Squid Bone Isle where a small, old lady lived alone.

“Yeah…a kind old lady. Made the best mango-cream pie.”

“That’s her. I’m fond of those pies myself. Go and give this to her.” Gyatso handed a pai sho tile to Kuzon. “She’ll know it’s from me and she’ll find a way to help you.”

Kuzon stared at the white lotus tile in his palm. All of this was too confusing. “But how do we go? I have lost all my money at sea.”

“Lucky for you, airbenders come with their own transportation,” Gyatso pointed into the distance where a herd of young sky bison calves waited patiently.  Kuzon’s eyes grew wide with excitement.

“I’ll get my own bison?” That would be neat. Only air-benders could ever have flying bison. The monks kept the herds under tight control.

At Gyatso’s signal, one of the animals came closer, blinking her large hazel eyes at Kuzon.  “This is Ghama. She’s never chosen anyone as her companion. I’ve always thought that she was waiting for her destiny. This morning, when they brought you up to the airtemple unconscious, she licked your face. Turns out, she was waiting for you.”

Kuzon ran his hands over the shaggy fur of Ghama. She seemed like a gentle creature. “Hello Ghama.”

Gyatso nodded.

“You need to leave now. Travel at night, try to stay out of sight during the day.”

“You are not coming with us?” Kuzon asked with a heavy heart.

“No, my place is here.” Gyatso waved back that the temple.

Kuzon had one more question. It’s been bothering him ever since he set foot in the Air Temple “What about Aang? Where is he?”

Gyatso’s expression changed; the gentle smile was replaced by an inquisitive glare. It felt like he was looking straight into Kuzon’s heart. It was freaky. Kuzon swallowed nervously. Gyatso smiled again. “You are a good friend. I’m going to tell you a secret… If something happens to us, you’ll have to find Aang and help him. Tell him that it’s not his fault and he was exactly where he was meant to be…”

He leaned closer to Kuzon and started whispering in his ears.

-0-

102 AG - Shark-Squid Bone Isle, Fire Nation

Zuko turned the map around in his hand, squinting at it. This was frustrating. “It’s supposed to be right here.”

“Maybe we took a wrong turn?” Aang suggested looking around. They were in the thickest part of the forest, with nothing but trees and bushes all around. “There is nobody here.”

As if to prove the Avatar wrong, a weird-looking fellow dressed in colourful clothes, wearing a flower necklace popped out from behind a tree-trunk. “Not quite true Little Arrowhead. If you keep our eyes open, you’ll meet fellow travellers who can lead you where you are meant to go…”

“Little Arrowhead?” Zuko frowned at the guy who was soon joined by two companions dressed in similarly ridiculous outfits.

Aang broke out in a wide smile. “Chong? Moku? Lily? What are you doing here?”

“You know these people?” Zuko asked Aang. He seemed to befriend the weirdest people. He was worse than Iroh. Maybe it was an old-people thing.

Aang nodded. “They helped us find a secret tunnel near Omashu.” He turned back to the travellers. “I don’t suppose you have a song about lost or hidden airbenders.”

“We can always make one up,” Chong replied, strumming a chord on his guitar. “Flying high, flying high, swirling and twirling on the blue skyyyyyy...”

“That’s not bad…” Moku nodded, starting to beat the rhythm on his lap. Lily span around.

“All together now…” Chong started again the annoying song; this time his companions joined in. “Flying high, flying high…” They all danced; Druk and Momo flew around them in excited circles.

Zuko blinked. He pinched himself. No, it was not a weird dream.The situation was spinning out of control. “Stop!” he yelled over the noise. “We don’t have time for this Aang.” He had to get back to the capital and not chase dreams or made-up songs.

Aang put his hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “Just wait a little. Last time they were right. At least they got us to the tunnel. We were led here for a reason. They must have the next clue.”

“They seem completely clueless to me,” Zuko muttered.

Chong wrapped his arms around both of them. “You should listen to your little arrowed friend, Brother. He knows that love will take you to places.”

Zuko tore himself out of the weird guy’s embrace. “We don’t want to go to places, we need to find...whatever it is that we are meant to find... and we should be on the move.” He gave a pointed look at Aang who had a penchant to get distracted by song and dance.

“Zuko, you promised you’ll listen to my instincts. I feel strongly about this,” he looked at him pleadingly. Zuko sighed in defeat. It was not crazier than all the other random clues that led them here. Maybe Aang was right, maybe the weird dancing nomads were the key. He gave a little shrug. Aang smiled and turned back to Chong. “Right. Let’s try some tunes for clues. Do you have any songs about the sky?”

“Oh, do we, my friend? The sky is an inspiration for everyone with poetry in their hearts,” Moku nodded. Zuko cringed. People with poetry in their hearts were terrible. He knew from experience that people with poetry in their hearts were excruciating. Listening to these people sounded worse than Uncle Iroh’s music nights.

“Underneath blue skies, I wander with my love…” Chong started a lyrical song. Lily hummed along to the melody.

“That doesn’t sound right..” Aang interrupted them. “I don’t think we want a love song. Anything else?”

They talked in hushed voices for a little while. Chong strummed a more upbeat chord. “We’ll shout, shout, shout to the sky…” They all danced and swayed to a raucous song that sounded like the stuff the sailors used to sing at the bars whenever they stayed at a port.

Aang’s smile started to fade. He seemed a bit less sure of this strategy. “Maybe something about flying bison?” He asked hopefully, not ready to give up yet.

“I know a song about a flying pig chicken.” Chong nodded.

Moku snorted. “That’s a good one.”

“There was little pig-chick, over the hills, it was a little pig-chick, bip-bop-bip…” They all danced making flapping wing movements.

“I can’t take this anymore…” Zuko groaned and walked away on the narrow, faded path deeper into the forest, until the sounds of the guitar faded. Both Druk and Momo seemed to have had enough of the music as well; they chose to follow him searching the trees for bugs. Zuko fumed. Aang was getting his hopes up, convinced that they found something important, but all they had was a dead-end. Sooner or later he had to call it quits.

A loud shriek interrupted his thoughts.  Oh, no, not again! Zuko leapt through the bushes to rescue Momo. He found the lemur and the dragon entangled, fighting over a small cylinder-shaped object.

Zuko split up the fight, holding up both animals by the neck. “Get along, please,” he scolded them. “Let me see, Momo,” he held out his palm towards the mystery-object. Inside the casing, he found a small scroll. He unrolled it, revealing drawings of a familiar airbending form he had seen Aang use many times. Zuko gasped.  Maybe they weren’t lost after all .

“Can you show me, where you found this, Momo?” he asked the lemur. The electric-green eyes blinked in agreement. Zuko followed Momo through the heavy undergrowth to a cave opening. Lighting a fire on his palm, Zuko stepped inside. There were strange signs painted on the wall. Maybe this was the clue.

He ran back to Aang. The strange group was still singing; this time about heart-shaped clouds. Aang was lying on the ground with a resigned expression on his face.

“Aang, I think I found the clue,” Zuko pulled him up.

“You see, Brother? Music will lead the open hearts…” Moku smiled.

“But I was not led by your music, I was chased away by it,” snapped Zuko.

“And yet, you ended up exactly where you were meant to go. It sounds to me that we have led you there after all.” Chong said thoughtfully. “Good-bye, little Arrowhead. I hope you’ll find what you are looking for. And you too, Brother. Let the music into your heart.”

“Safe travels,” Aang returned their greeting.

“A song for the road?” Lily asked.

“No!” Zuko and Aang yelled at the same time and hurried down the path.

-0-

Aang traced the carving on the wall with trembling fingers. They were etched in clumsily, visibly done in a hurry. But clearly these were written in the ancient symbols of the Air Nomads.

 Zam. Chimi. Sang. Kiran.  The boys from the Air Temple. His childhood friends. They were here in this cave, long enough to carve their names on the wall. The clearest sign yet that he was not imagining this. The dreams were real.  “ They were here, Zuko.”

 Simu. Dhozi.

“Who?” Zuko asked with a frown.

 Kuzon.  Aang heart skipped a beat, remembering how he and Kuzon taught each other to write their names in the ancient symbols of their nations.

“These were the other boys at the air temple. We used to play together. They were here. They were here with Kuzon. Why else would their names be on the wall?”

“Maybe they came here travelling before the war? You traveled all over the place, didn’t you?” Zuko asked, still skeptical.

“I was the only one. Gyatso thought it was important…” of course he would. He had already known that Aang was the Avatar. He knew it was important to feel at home in all the four nations.

“So they came here after you left?”

“Don’t you see? They must have escaped.” This was the proof he was searching for. The voices from his dreams wanted him to come here. Aang felt hope soaring inside him. “You know what this means? There must be airbenders somewhere out there.”

“Aang… Even if they were here a hundred years ago…even if they escaped… that doesn't mean…” Zuko bit his lips not wanting to finish the thought. He didn’t have to. Aang knew exactly what he meant.  It doesn’t mean that they survived. “If they are out there, why didn’t they come to you when the war ended?”

Of course, Aang asked himself this question. Most answers he could think of, he didn’t like. But there had to be other possibilities that he just couldn’t think of.

“I don’t know. But our next clue must be here.”

They searched the cave, but there was nothing else on the walls. Aang turned the ground upside down with earthbending, but there was nothing hidden in the soil either.

“There is nothing here, Aang. It looks like the end of the road,” Zuko sighed heavily.  Aang shook his head stubbornly.

“I refuse to give up now. Maybe - maybe if I meditate here, I can find some answers in the spirit world.”

“Fine. But after that we go home,” Zuko said firmly.

Aang sat crossed-legged and closed his eyes.

 He found himself in an empty green meadow. The spirit world was utterly frustrating - Aang still had no control over where he would land in any moment.

“Hello! Is anyone around?” he yelled because the eerie emptiness of the place was unnerving.

 “What are you yelling about?” a grumpy voice hissed.

 Aang craned his neck until he saw the half-bird, half-frog creature sitting on the ground.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a bother. I need to find an old friend of mine,” Aang explained. “Maybe you could help me? I’m the Avatar…” he added. His title wasn’t nearly as impressive in the spirit world as in the human world, but ho knew, it might be helpful.

 “A human friend? They are not here. Luckily,” croaked the frog-bird spirit. “You can try it there behind the hills. There are humans there…”

 Aang bowed to the spirit and dashed off for the hills. As he reached the top, he saw swirling fog in the valley; it echoed with voices of pain, voices of despair. Human voices. Aang hurried towards the fog.

 Before he reached the edge, the spirit of Roku appeared and blocked his way.

 “Aang, you can’t go in there,” he warned sternly.

 “Roku!” exclaimed Aang with irritation and relief. “You have to help me. I need to speak to Kuzon. He knows where the airbenders are.”

 “You can’t go into the Fog. It’s playing tricks on your mind. You would be lost there, your memory slowly fading,” Roku explained.

 “It’s worth the risk. I need to find my people.”

 “You are the Avatar, Aang. The entire world is your people. They can’t lose their Avatar. Not now when the peace is so fragile.”

 Aang’s heart sank. “But how am I going to find the answers?”

 “You already have everything you need…The spirit realm cannot be used as a shortcut to solve the puzzles of the human world.”

 “So you can’t tell me anything at all?”

 An amused smile appeared on Roku’s lips. “Did you know that my wife used to make the best mango-cream pie in the world?”

 “I meant something important,” Aang grimaced. He was really not in the mood for listening to Roku’s love life. “Something connected to my search."

 “We are all connected,” Roku explained. “You, me, the frog-bird spirit. Mango-cream pies are important, Aang.”

 Aang sighed. Maybe Zuko was right. Maybe it was time to call it quits.

-0-

Druk curled up in Zuko’s lap to sleep. He listened to the dragon’s soft snores sitting motionless, not wanting to disrupt his nap. Aang sat with eyes closed and from the grimace on his face, he seemed to be having an unpleasant conversation. Zuko yawned, trying to keep his eyes open, but it was a long day of flying and a long week of strange dreams and a long year of endless work…

 The orange-red curtain of the house blew in the wind carrying a sweet smell. Zuko stepped inside.

 “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.” A grey-haired, old woman greeted him from the corner. Her eyes were familiar somehow.

 “Do we know each other?” Zuko looked around the small kitchen.

 “In some ways,” the old woman walked slowly to a chest and took out a parchment and some ink.

 “Why am I here?” Zuko asked her.

 “Only you can answer that. Your search led you here,” shrugged the woman.

 “If you know something, you should tell me,” Zuko scowled at her. His scowl usually went a long way of getting things he wanted, especially since he became Fire Lord. But this woman just smiled in that frustrating I-am-in-on-a-secret-you-have-no-idea-about way Iroh sometimes did. She pulled out something from the oven and put it in front of Zuko.

 “Here. Have some mango cream-pie.”

 “I didn’t come here for a pie. I came here for answers,” Zuko huffed in annoyance.

 “I can only offer you the pie. It’s quite tasty,” the woman winked and took a slice for herself.

 Zuko knew that it was just a dream, which made the pie only a dream pie, but he took a piece anyways. Surprisingly it tasted exquisite - sweet and tangy. It reminded him of something.

 “It tastes like a memory. I remember now - it was my mother’s favourite. I think she once said that there was a special family recipe that was passed down.”

 “Indeed, family recipes are important…” nodded the old woman with a twinkle in her eye, as she scribbled something on the parchment.

 Zuko leaned over, trying to make out the symbols, but the house, the woman, the parchment all went up in smoke.

 “Wait!!!!” yelled Zuko but the dream disappeared.

He woke up with a start, the same time Aang’s eyes popped open.

“Any luck?” Zuko asked.

Aang’s grimace didn’t bode well. “No. A waste of time. Just Roku prattling on about how his wife made the best mango cream pie.”

That couldn’t be a coincidence. “Wait. He said mango cream pie?”

“Yep. He said - and I quote - mango cream pies are important, Aang.” Aang said on a deep voice, with a very bad imitation of Fire Nation accent. “How am I going to do this if I can’t even get my former life take me seriously?” he sighed dramatically.

Zuko bit his lip. He could stay quiet. He could end the wild goose-rabbit chase right at this point and go back to the palace. But the mango cream pie had to mean something. Roku must have said that deliberately.  Which also meant that the old lady in his dream was his great-grandmother. “I think he was trying to give you a clue, Aang. And I know where we are going next…”

“Wait? What? Where?” Aang’s face changed from shock to surprise to confusion.

“Ember Island…” smiled Zuko. “Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

-0-

102 AG - Fire Nation Royal Palace

Iroh was already in the dining room when Azula arrived. He stood up heavily and bowed politely when he saw her enter.

“Uncle,” Azula returned the bow as superficially as she could get away with. He still made her uneasy. And it was frustrating that Zuko called in the old man whenever he had some important business with his ragtag team of ridiculous friends.

“Niece. Just in time for a nice cup of tea,” he smiled pleasantly.

“Let me guess - ginger,” Azula sniffed into the air.

“You know me too well,” chuckled Iroh. “It’s the best thing to refresh after a long ride on the airship. I was hoping you could bring me up to speed?” he gave her a sly look. It made Azula feel like she was under cross-examination.

“Why? Your spy network is slacking?” she asked sharply.

Iroh took a long sip from his cup watching her above the brim intently. “If you are referring to the White Lotus, Princess Azula, I have to disappoint you. It’s more a group of fellow pai sho enthusiasts, really.”

Azula held up her hands to stop him from going off on an endless pai sho tangent, “In any case, Uncle. Our spy network is reporting trouble from the provinces. There are those organizing against Zuko.”

The pleasant smile on Iroh’s face was replaced by concerned wrinkles. Predictably, he was fully interested now.

“That is troubling, indeed. Do you know anything about their plans?”

“I would, if Zuko weren’t so damned stubborn about his high-minded ideals.” Azula stared into Iroh’s eyes. This was her window of opportunity to interrogate those people. All she had to do was convince Iroh that the Fire Lord’s safety took precedence over pipe-dreams of peaceful reign. “Uncle, it’s up to us to do what it takes if he won’t.”

Iroh looked uncomfortable. “Zuko hopes that our people can change,” he said evasively, staring into his tea cup as if the steaming liquid could provide the answer to the dilemma.

Azula felt his hesitation, so pushed on. “You know I’m right, don’t you? If we don’t nip this rebellion in the bud, we are risking an all-out civil war. He listens to you.”

“We need to consider carefully…”

“Princess…” a fearful voice interrupted.

“What is it? Who are you?” she snapped at the intruder who started shaking immediately under Azula’s firm gaze.

He dropped to his knees even though Zuko had put an end to all kowtowing in the palace as soon as he became Fire Lord. “I’m the Archivist. You ordered to see immediately what we found about Councillor Kuse.”

Right. Zuko’s cryptic request. “So what did you find?” she asked impatiently.

“I am afraid this is all, Your Highness,” he handed her a small scroll.

Azula unrolled the parchment. It read:  On the order of Fire Lord Sozin, we the members of the secret tribunal find Councillor Kuse... The rest of the document was scratched out.

Iroh peaked curiously over her shoulder. “Does this have to do with the mysterious mission of the Fire Lord and the Avatar?”

Azula ignored his question.

“But this is all blotted out. What does this symbol mean?” she pointed to the top left corner.

“It’s the Vault, Your Highness,” the Archivist explained.

“What is the Vault?”

“The most secret archive of the Fire Nation that had been sealed by Fire Lord Sozin himself, Princess Azula. Only the Chief Archivist knows of its existence and it can only be opened jointly by the Fire Lord and the Great Sage.”

“So it’s an even more secret secret archive?” Iroh asked slightly amused.

“Did you know this, Uncle?” Azula turned to him accusingly. It was troubling that there would be something of this importance in the Fire Nation that she wasn't aware of.

“I had no idea,” Iroh shook his head.

“So take us to this Vault,” Azula ordered.

“But the Fire Lord... is…” the Archivist stuttered.

Azula pursed her lips and drew her eyebrows into her most intimidating scowl. “My Uncle is interim Fire Lord. Or do you question his authority?”

“No, Your Highness... Highnesses. Of course not. I will send for Great Sage Shiyu at once,” the Archivist bowed to both of them, his hand trembling and retreated from the room.

The Vault was hidden under the palace, accessible through a secret corridor even Azula didn’t know about. They paused in front of the heavy door, decorated with a huge dragon head with sparkling red eyes.

“It is said that the door can only be opened by lightning bolts, shot at the same time into the two eyes of the dragon,” the Archivist explained.

 Dragons and lightning. It was so Sozin.  Azula felt the familiar empty pangs under her skin as she watched Iroh and Shiyu go through the circular lightning-bending motions, blue sparks crackling around them. The red eyes lit up as the lightning reached them, and the door opened with a loud creak. Cold, musty air hit them in the nose.

The room was filled with long rows of filing cabinets. The Archivist lit a flame in his palm and examined the inscriptions. “It’s the same filing system as our normal archives. I should find it in a moment.” He pulled out drawers at amazing speed. “Here it is, the file on Councillor Kuse. It’s entitled the Solstice Conspiracy.”

Azula and Iroh leaned over the parchment reading it together.

 The members of the Solstice Conspiracy, known traitors and Air Nomad collaborators who questioned, opposed and attempted to stop Fire Lord Sozin’s glorious conquest. For their heinous crimes, we, the secret war tribunal sentence them to death:

 Councillor Kuse, found guilty of intending to disclose secret war plans to the enemies of the Fire Nation,

 Fire Sage Shin, found guilty of destroying all known information about the identity of the Avatar,

 General Miku, found guilty of attempting to murder our beloved Fire Lord Sozin,

 General Rinoko….

Azula looked at the long list of names. People who questioned Sozin’s plans. People who tried to stop the attack. People...who could have perhaps changed the course of history. People who were believed to be traitors then but would be celebrated as heroes now. Fire Nation citizens with the capacity to think for themselves, to march against the beat of Sozin’s bloodthirsty drums, to risk their lives for what they believed was right.  Idealistic fools, if they thought they could get away with it.

Still, the names spoke of a history that Sozin wanted to bury because those ideals threatened his plans. Azula couldn’t help but wonder if it would have made a difference had she known of the dissenters. If she was free to make up her own mind.

Iroh put a hand on her shoulder. “Do you see it now?” he asked quietly.


The blue flowers in the meadow Keith has come to call Lance’s Meadow glow, casting soft light. Every sound they make is caught by the flowers, answered with flicks of light from the flowers.

“Lance,” Keith murmurs from where Lance is sitting in his lap. His eyes are soft and warm, touched with an edge of uncertainty. His hand slides further down Lance’s back, pressing where his spine meets his pelvis.

“I want…” Keith’s breath hitches and he opens his eyes, biting his lip like he’s afraid to say it. He rocks his hips up into Lance’s, making his breath catch.

Lance shifts his weight, lifting one hand to cup Keith’s cheek.

“Are you sure?”

Keith sighs, pressing into Lance’s hand. “Yeah. I’m sure.” He bites his lip again and that trepidation is back. “I’ve just- I’ve never…” He takes a steadying breath and holds Lance’s gaze.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Lance feels his insides go all soft and gooey and light at the same time. He’s so overwhelmed for the amazing man beneath him he nearly cries.

He lowers himself further down and Keith spreads his legs, cradling Lance’s body between his knees. Lance kisses him, slow and sweet until he feels Keith relax again. He rolls his hips just slightly, adding pressure more than friction between them and Keith whines, arching up as Lance kisses his way to Keith’s ear.

“Want you so bad,” he whispers, breath dancing across the shell of Keith’s ear. Goosebumps ripple down his arms and Keith shivers. “Want you inside me.”

Keith bites his lips around a groan and Lance sits back, running his thumb along the bitten bloodless skin.

“Don’t,” he pleads. Keith’s eyes are hazy and dark when he opens them. “Wanna hear you.”

Keith releases his lip with a whine, and flushes. His lip swells, blossoming pink and Lance catches it with his own teeth, sucking on it, soothing away the tenderness with his tongue. Keith’s fingers find their way into his hair, holding him like he’s precious and Lance feels that urge to cry again. He’s never felt so wanted, so desired, or so trusted before in his life.

When he pulls away Keith lifts himself off the ground, chasing his mouth, lips parted and wanting.

“Come here.” Lance takes Keith’s hand, pulling them both upright until Keith is sitting in his lap, knees bracketing Lance’s hips. He feels his jeans growing damp from the soft ground but can’t bring himself to care.

“If this gets overwhelming,” Lance says softly, tucking Keith’s hair back, the other arm around his waist, “I want you to tell me.” Keith’s hands flex on Lance’s shoulders. “We can stop. At any time, for any reason. I'm not gonna be mad.” He strokes his thumb over Keith’s cheek. “I just want you to feel safe and enjoy it. Okay?” A smile pulls at his mouth. “It’s supposed to be fun.”

Keith blushes, ducking his head to hide against Lance’s shoulder.

Lance’s hand strokes up Keith’s back under his jacket and he can feel the heat trapped in the material, like Keith has been in the training room instead of lying in the damp grass.

He feels the warmth of Keith’s shuddering breath against the side of his throat as he sighs.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” Lance prods gently and Keith sits back.

“I’ll tell you. If I get overwhelmed or we need to stop.” He flushes as he says it and Lance kisses his burning cheek.

“Promise?” he asks, lifting his pinky up in the air between them and Keith laughs.

He rolls his eyes but loops his pinky with Lance’s. “Yes, I promise,” he says, fond exasperation in his voice.

He kisses his own thumb, watching Lance over their entwined hands while he does.

He turns bashful a moment later.

“You’re gonna have to guide me,” Keith manages, throat tight with embarrassment. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” The corners of his mouth pinch like he’s afraid of disappointing Lance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Lance kisses him until the tension bleeds away, sliding his tongue against Keith’s lazily.

“You won’t,” he promises. “I know what I’m doing. I know what I like.” He pets Keith’s hair back, marveling at how soft it’s gotten.

“Trust me,” he whispers against Keith’s lips.

“I do.”

Lance cups the back of Keith’s head, tipping it and kissing him, long and languid. His other hand slides over Keith’s chest, slipping under his jacket to his shoulder and pushing at it gently.

“Can I?” He asks, waiting for Keith’s nod before kissing him again, slowly pushing the jacket from his shoulders. Keith shivers under the touch when Lance’s fingers drop past his sleeves, meeting skin.

The air rushing in to touch him is warm but Keith still shivers, goosebumps rippling down his arms, leaving him cold as the jacket slips down his elbows.

Lance kisses along Keith’s throat to the hollow, Keith tipping his head back, encouraging Lance with a hand to the back of his neck. The jacket partially restrains his movement but Keith doesn’t care. He hums and makes little noises as Lance dips down to kiss along his collarbone. His fingers abandon Keith’s jacket to stroke over his chest, seeking out a peaked nipple from the cold.

When he touches it Keith whines, rocking in his lap and Lance’s hand on his back holds Keith firm as he sucks a hickey into his throat. The noise he makes when Lance pinches his nipple, rolling it, is embarrassingly loud, tapering off into a whine in his throat.

It makes Lance’s cock twitch in his jeans, heat pooling in his belly. He does it again, a little harder and Keith makes that sound again, body shuddering as he rises up on his knees, body arching.

“Fuck, Lance,” he cries and Lance takes his hand away, wrapping it around Keith’s waist, crushing them together. He rolls his hips up into Keith, face still buried against his throat.

“God I love the way you sound,” he groans and Keith’s fingers finally ease in his hair, soothing along his scalp.

“‘m glad it’s you,” he breathes, pressing his nose into Lance’s hair. He smells warm and sweet and like the flowers around them.

“Never wanted you so badly,” Keith murmurs and Lance’s fingers fist in Keith’s shirt.

“You have to stop talking like that or I’m not gonna be able to take it slow.” His breathing stutters against Keith’s throat and he takes a minute to calm down, pressing soft kisses against Keith’s skin.

“You okay?” Keith asks, stroking his fingers through Lance’s hair.

“Yeah. I just really love you.”

Keith flushes, lifting Lance’s face from his shoulder to look at him. No one’s ever looked at him like that, like he was a star or a supernova, something to be marveled at and admired. It makes his stomach clench and his heart skip.

“I love you,” Keith chokes, kissing him. He kisses Lance until they’re both dizzy, fingers dragging Lance’s jacket off him and throwing it to the side. He yanks on the bottom of Lance’s shirt, trying to pull it off without making Lance let him go.

“Thought you were nervous,” Lance teases and Keith nips his bottom lip scoldingly.

“Never was very patient,” he mumbles and Lance lifts his arms, allowing Keith to remove the shirt.

“Why are you still dressed?” Keith grumbles, reaching for Lance’s belt. “Wanna touch you.”

Lance grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks, dragging a guttural sound from Keith as he does. His hands freeze in place, hovering above Lance’s hips as he trembles, lips parted and god he looks so beautiful. His lips are kiss swollen and his throat works over another moan as Lance ducks his head, leaving a bruising kiss there.

“Lance-” he whines and Lance growls.

“So impatient.” He finally eases his grip in Keith’s hair, letting him raise his head. “You’re supposed to be better behaved,” he scolds.

“Make me.”

Lance grinds his teeth against his knee-jerk reaction to throw Keith to the ground and fuck him senseless. Next time.

“Should have known you’d be a brat.”

Keith grins. “I don’t know what that means but probably.”

Lance cradles Keith’s weight as he lowers him down, using his own jacket as a kind of blanket against the grass.

“Fuck, I don’t have-”

“I do,” Keith cuts him off, fishing into his back pocket for a small packet of lube and a condom.

Lance’s eyes widen in surprise.

“You planned this,” he accuses.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Of course I did. This video was the moment I realized I was in love with you. Of course I’d want you to fuck me out here.”

Lance groans, his head tipping down to rest against Keith’s sternum.

“Why is that romantic? Damn you.”

“I hadn’t planned on actually using the condom to be honest.” His cheeks flush and Lance lifts his head, his own cheeks warm.

“Keith,” he gasps with delighted surprise. “Did you want me to raw you?” he teases. Keith’s face goes bright red in the dark.

“Yes,” he admits and god that does things to him. Lance groans.

“God that’s hot.” He sits up, taking both from Keith and straddles him. “Next time,” he promises, kissing the tip of Keith’s nose. “Right now I want you to make sweet, sweet love to me while I ride you.”

Keith’s hands fall to Lance’s hips, squeezing and Lance grinds down into him, rocking his ass against Keith’s cock.

He wastes no time stripping them out of their remaining clothes and opening the lube packet. Keith watches intently as Lance covers two of his fingers, setting the packet within easy reach and reaches down to slowly slide a finger over his hole. He keeps one hand on Keith’s chest for balance as he slowly presses shallowly inside. His cock twitches in the air and Keith’s mouth waters at the sight.

“Can I-?” The words come out gravelled.

Lance opens his eyes, following Keith’s gaze. “Yeah.”

Keith swallows thickly before reaching for Lance’s cock, fingers touching him carefully. When Lance groans, rocking his hips, Keith grasps him fully, giving a slow drag.

Lance’s mouth falls open, face distorting with pleasure as he presses deeper, fucking himself on his fingers as he presses another inside.

“Tighter,” Lance gasps, stomach clenching when Keith tightens his grip.

He works himself open, scissoring his fingers until he can press a third inside. He wants more stimulation but it’s hard to press against his prostate from this angle.

Keith’s free hand slides up and down Lance’s thigh, feeling the muscle quiver and tense.

“Lance.” His voice comes out dry and he has to clear his throat, still watching as Lance pumps his fingers.

Lance opens his eyes, looking down at Keith. He sees him watching and presses as deep as he can. “Wanna try?”

Keith groans, the hand on Lance’s cock tightening as he nods.

Lance pulls his fingers free, feeling empty as he does. He takes Keith’s hand and coats his fingers with the lubricant, guiding them boldly to his entrance. Keith flushes as he presses them against Lance. His body gives, drawing Keith’s fingers into him and Lance groans, hand still holding Keith’s wrist as he rocks.

“Curl your fingers,” he gasps, cock bouncing in the air as he lifts and drops his hips.

Keith does and Lance’s body arches like a drawn bowstring, quivering and tight.

“God, right there. Again.”

Keith does, sliding his fingers down and back up until Lance is whining and desperate. He doesn’t let up, other hand stroking Lance’s cock until he collapses into Keith’s chest with a shiver.

“Stop,” he begs. “Stop, Keith-”

Keith immediately freezes.

“What did I do?”

Lance shakes his head, sweaty hair sticking to his face.

“Nothing,” he gasps. “Didn’t do anything wrong.” Keith pulls his fingers free and Lance whines again. “God, gonna cum,” he pants.

Keith grins. “Yeah?”

Lance nods, pressing his cheek to Keith’s chest. His thighs are burning.

“Want you inside me.”

Keith reaches for the condom, tearing open the package and rolling it on as Lance grabs what’s left of the lube, slicking him up. He shuffles forward, until they’re aligned, guiding Keith’s cock to his hole and pressing against it.

He bites his lip, slowly sinking down a little at a time. Keith’s nails dig into Lance’s hips, leaving red lines behind.

“Perfect,” Lance moans, “so perfect.  Dios mio  you’re so  perfect .” He’s flush in Keith’s lap, their bodies pressed together and quivering as Lance adjusts. Keith strokes him slowly, trying to chase off whatever pain Lance might be feeling with pleasure.

He slowly begins to rock, hands on Keith’s chest for leverage. He opens his eyes, staring down at him as he bounces on Keith’s cock, alternating pace and rhythm, repeating what makes Keith’s eyes roll into the back of his head or his breath hitch, clenching around him again and again.

He pulls back far enough the head of Keith’s cock catches along his rim before dropping back down, hard, making them both groan. Keith arches up off the ground, forgetting to breathe and Lance does it again and again, pounding into his prostate as he does. Precum drips from the head of his cock over Keith’s fingers and his thighs burn. He bends forward, trying to ease the pain and Keith grabs Lance thighs, knifing up into him. Lance’s body clenches with a cry, his hand covering Keith’s on his cock and guiding it as Keith buries himself in Lance and cums.

Lance squeezes the head of his cock with Keith’s fingers, Keith still thrusting into him shallowly, his other hand coming to cup Lance’s sac. He rolls his balls and Lance shudders, body twitching and shaking as he finally cums. It’s been too long since someone touched him and he never thought it would be Keith.

His legs hurt as he lays across Keith’s chest, blinking back tears with a jagged gasp.

Keith’s hand strokes up Lance’s sweat slicked back.

“Lance?”

“Ngh,” he manages, blinking back tears.

“Hey.” Keith pushes at his shoulder and Lance props himself up, both of them groaning as Keith finally slips from him.

“What’s wrong?”

Lance shakes his head, wiping at his tears. He can’t get the words out so he just kisses Keith.

“I love you,” he finally chokes. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” His features crease as he pinches his eyes shut. “God, you’re my whole heart Keith.”

Keith feels tears prick at his own eyes and he forces himself to sit up, carrying half of Lance’s body weight with him.

Lance shakes his head, his face buried against Keith’s throat. His chest aches with how much he loves Keith. It’s overwhelming.

Keith kisses his shoulder, holding him close and cradling Lance.

“I never thought you’d be mine,” Keith whispers. “You’re so out of my league.”

Lance snorts. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“I’m serious.”

Lance sits back, pushing Keith’s hair out of his face.

Keith searches Lance’s eyes, the lights from the flowers reflecting in his already impossibly blue eyes.

“You could do so much better than me,” Keith whispers. It hurts to say but it’s true.

“Bullshit,” Lance chokes, anger thick in his voice but more on Keith’s behalf than at him. “There is no better than you.”

Keith’s heart flips and he feels tears wet his lashes when he blinks.

Lance cups his face in his hands. “You make me happy,” he whispers. “Happier than I’ve ever been. You make me feel less alone. You’re the balance to all of my weaknesses.” He shakes his head slowly.

“God I could take on the world if you’re with me,” Lance breathes. “You make the impossible possible. I’m so much stronger and braver when you’re with me. You make me confident. Not just fake confident but the real thing. I know you’ll always have my back.” He runs his hand over Keith’s hair.

“When I reach for you, you will always be there. Always. That’s who you are.” Tears slip down his cheeks and Keith brushes them away.

“You mean so much to me,” Lance cries. “I don’t think you’ll ever know-”

Keith kisses him and holds Lance tight.

“You’re my whole heart too,” he manages and Lance cries harder, overwhelmed with love and relief.

~

They help one another dress, Lance blushing as Keith does his belt for him. Somehow it feels more intimate than the sex. Lance pulls him into a kiss, Keith dropping another to his mouth before he pulls away. They walk back to the castle ship hand in hand


If Stiles hated high school parties, he absolutely loathed high school dances. The music was too loud, the air too thick with awkward hormones and shitty punch. What even was punch? Weird, that’s what. It was even worse now with his deteriorating condition and he wondered if Derek was even here. It must be wreaking havoc on his senses.

He’d been searching for ten minutes now but he couldn’t find the wolf and he was starting to get dizzy so instead he found a solitary corner and spoke in a clear voice, at normal volume, “Derek. Derek, are you here? I need to—we need to talk.” Stiles closed his eyes, “If you want—I want—” He groaned, unable to organize his thoughts, “I’ll be out on the lacrosse field. If you—if you still—”

He sighed, pushing through the crowd and out into the dark night. He lay in the center of the lacrosse field pondering life and death. He’d been doing that a lot lately, since his birthday, trying to comprehend the life cycle. He’d wished for Derek a hundred times. So he wasn’t sure if he could trust the image coming towards him now.

He didn’t speak as he sat near Stiles’ shoulders cross legged. It took him a long time to meet his eyes and when he did Stiles saw his own misery reflected back at him, “Hi.”

Derek’s voice sounded rough, as if he hadn’t been speaking in a while when he replied, “Hey.”

Stiles sighed, looking up at the night sky and moving one hand lazily over the grass while the other rested on his chest, “What do you know about witches?”

He felt Derek’s eyebrows and nearly smiled, “They’re similar to Druids and Emissaries. Drawing on the power of nature and the elements. Most are frauds, using old spells and such but a rare few, true witches, have active powers. They correspond with the elements, fire, water, earth, wind.”

Stiles nodded, “Why are they so rare?”

Derek scowled and Stiles couldn’t tell if it was because he was clearly working up to something or if he was reacting to the answer he was about to give, “Back when they were prevalent, witches were known to be kind of elitist. They didn’t mix with other supernaturals unless there was money involved and they never interacted with humans. That left little option when their population started dying out. A few left and started going out into the world but most stuck to their stupid ideals and just died out.”

Stiles gritted his teeth as he nodded, “Have you ever heard of the Silverleaf family?”

Derek tilted his head, “Earth witches, I think? They could control things like plants and stuff.”

His voice trailed off, his eyes on the hand Stiles was running across the grass. He knew he’d be able to see even in the dark that with one swipe the grass turned yellow and died then with another swipe it turned lush green again.

“What about the story of the lost Silverleaf daughter? Heard of that?”

Derek didn’t take his eyes off Stiles’ hand as he shook his head. Stiles nodded, looking up at the sky, picking the grass before reconnecting it to the ground below, “The Silverleaf family was one of the last to die out. They were all pure breeds, just like you said and they controlled the element of earth. The last in the line was a woman, good news because she could breed with other witches; older if need be to reproduce heirs. But she was a bit of a trouble maker, liked to question things.”

Stiles’ heart stuttered when Derek’s mouth quirked up. He kept talking, “She just didn’t buy all that bullshit about pure breeds. She didn’t know if a child she had with a non-witch would be magical but she also didn’t really care. What had magic done for her but make her a breeding puppet?”

His voice hitched and then there was a hand covering the one on his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief as he intertwined their fingers and continued, “She disappeared, used her magic to do it for a little while but magic leaves a trace, another reason for her to hate it. She stopped altogether, just in time to meet a going nowhere deputy in a small shit town.”

The tear rolling down his cheek was caught in Derek’s warm finger and Stiles closed his eyes, “She fell in love and when she decided to marry him, she decided to go all in on the human life. So she bound her powers with a powerful, difficult spell and moved on. And she was happy. She was happy with her boring little life and her boring little flower shop. Her boring police man husband and her boring over active son.”

Stiles choked and had to sit up, Derek’s hand on his shoulder helping him. He turned and mirrored Derek’s position, their knees brushing, “Thing is,” he continued with voice clogged with tears, “Once you accept it, magic is a part of you. And if you lock that part away, eventually you’re going to start deteriorating.”

He shook his head, squeezing Derek’s hands in his own, “She knew there were people who could help. She knew there was an Emissary nearby and a powerful werewolf pack who were known to help stranded supernaturals.”

His laugh was hollow as Derek squeezed his fingers nearly too hard, “But she’d made a vow, to live a human life. And that meant a human death. So she wrote a note which turned into a journal. She wrote down everything she could think of before wrapping it up with her Grimoire to be given to her son on his seventeenth birthday.”

Stiles took a steadying breath, the hard part was over. He moved slowly, just in case as he slipped the knife from behind his back and set it in the grass between them. Derek didn’t even blink, “She didn’t know if he was even a witch. You don’t come into your powers until you’re seventeen.”

Stiles touched the tip of the knife with his finger and turned it counter clockwise until the old tome lay before him. He glanced up at Derek who was staring down at the book, “That’s not all though.” He murmured, brining Derek’s attention to his hand which was pressed into the grass beside them. They both watched as a dark flower grew up and bloomed, “A witch has two months to decide if they want to keep their powers.”

Derek’s head snapped up to look at him and Stiles smiled sadly, flipping Derek’s hand palm up and tracing up and down his fingers, “It’s as simple as saying a few words but once it’s done, it can’t be undone. If you say no, you can never do magic again. Not even a simple spell. But if you say yes, it’s there, forever unless you do something like my mom and we know how that turned out.”

Derek squeezed his fingers and Stiles plucked one of the blooms, starting at Derek’s palm and tracing it up a finger, watching as it caused a claw to grow. The claw looked broken and cracked, much like Stiles’ heart. Derek must really trust him, because he let Stiles continue. When he moved the bloom up towards his nail, it would elongate and as he moved it back down, the claw would retract.

“If you had the choice to give up being a werewolf, would you?” he said quietly and watched Derek’s fingers flinch. He smiled sadly, “No, I guess you wouldn’t. You’ve had eighteen years to be a werewolf; you know the ups always come with downs and vice versa. But what if—” Stiles choked slightly, “What if your mom did everything she could to never be a wolf again? What if she died for it? How could you accept that as a gift? How could you respect her memory? So do I give up magic and honor my mother? Or do I accept the thing she hated most in the world?”

He stopped drawing the flower over Derek’s palm, feeling the weight settle on him. Derek’s hand landed heavy on the back of Stiles’ neck and strangely, it made him feel lighter, “You can’t refuse this, Stiles.”

Stiles looked up and Derek sighed as he wiped the tears from his eyes, “You may have only received these powers but they’ve always been a part of you. You know my mom killed that moon flower in two days? I looked it up, they’re incredibly difficult to cultivate. But you did it almost effortlessly with no power to speak of.”

Stiles bit his lip and looked away. Derek’s fingers drifted over his cheek, “Your mother made the choice she had to make but she didn’t want to make yours for you. That’s why she left you that journal. That’s why she left you this.”

They both looked down at the Grimoire, the complicated leaf design adorning the cover, “Magic was bad for her. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be good for you. She wouldn’t have given you this if she didn’t think you could make magic what it’s supposed to be.”

Derek turned over their hands and looked at the flower still in his palm. Stiles sighed, picking it up and holding it out near the stem. The flower’s life cycle reversed slightly, to the point where Stiles picked it off and it reached out to pull it back in.

“It’s something my mom made. Foxglove mixed with wolfsbane. It can’t hurt you.” He said quickly, glancing up at Derek only to find him completely unworried. Stiles smiled softly before stroking the bell shaped flowers that fell in a cascade from the stem, “Before she disappeared, she was working on a way to identify other supernaturals. I think she was already planning her escape and she wanted to steer clear of them. I’m not sure why she chose foxglove but the wolfsbane is obvious. There’s not much in there, just enough to draw out your shift slightly. It’s beautifully sad looking isn’t it?”

They looked at the flower that really was an exact replica of foxglove, only it had the deep cool color of wolfsbane, the petals such a dark purple, they appeared black. Stiles touched the base of the stem and watched the cycle spin backwards as the blooms closed, turned to buds and then the stem grew shorter until is disappeared completely.

He dragged his hand over slowly, touching Derek’s knee before landing on the book, “Have you ever seen a Grimoire?”

Derek shook his head, glancing up so their eyes met briefly before looking back down. Stiles flipped it open, “It’s pretty cool actually. A mix between a spell book, a beastiary and a magical artifact. The pages change. I’ve read it eight times and found something new each time. It also learns.”

He stopped on the newest entry about Darachs, a sketched image of Jennifer Blake added to it. He felt Derek stiffen and took his hand, “There was already stuff about Darachs. That’s how I knew what it was. But when it touches something in its other form, it learns. And when I—”

Derek squeezed his fingers and he nodded, “When I killed her, I think it took some of her memories.”

He trailed a finger down the entry, “I didn’t know about any of this. About the alpha pack.”

Derek nodded, “My mom and a few others took care of them. What happened to Jennifer Blake was enough to bind them together in a singular cause. They aren’t a problem anymore.”

As he said it, they watched the entry change, a foot note being added, strangely in Stiles’ handwriting about the alpha pack being disbanded by Alpha Hale and friends. Derek smirked at that last part and Stiles felt himself smiling too, “You’ve had a busy week.”

Derek groaned, “My room is the over flow guest room. Mom says Cora and Laura are too messy.” He pouted, “I miss my bed.”

Stiles frowned, “Why not go to the loft?”

Derek’s eyes flicked up, “Because. That’s our place.”

Stiles swallowed thickly before looking down and flipping pages, “There’s a ton in here about werewolves. They’re a pretty plentiful supernatural but there are a few things worthy of note.”

He stopped flipping and pointed as he began to read, feeling Derek stiffen as he did, “The Alpha Command is a power rarely used. The alpha’s power is dependent on the strength of the pack as a whole and when an alpha continues to circumvent the feelings of others, it weakens the pack and causes dissonance.”

Stiles glanced up, “I don’t want to cause any dissonance.”

Derek shook his head, looking uncomfortable, “I didn’t like it, but I understood it. I wanted to tell you, you have to know that.”

Their eyes seared into each other as Stiles nodded, “I do now.”

He saw hope flicker alive and real in Derek’s eyes and Stiles ducked his head flipping the page, “I want to read you another entry.”

Derek squeezed his hand in acceptance. Stiles took a deep breath and began, “The werewolf mate is something that is difficult to describe. It is not an obvious thing but if one is paying attention, they can usually pinpoint the signs.”

His eyes flicked up at Derek to find him concentrating, he kept reading, “The first notable sign is that the wolf will be drawn towards its mate inexplicably. The echo of their bond pulling at it even when it is not fully developed. The mate, wolf or not, may experience the same thing.”

His eyes flicked up again and this time Derek smiling softly. He kept reading, “All of a wolf’s natural instincts will be heightened around their mate and they might be known to do any of the following: say I love you very early in the relationship, try to be touching their mate at all times, feel the need to protect their territory and become jealous of others touching their mate even if they are pack. They will want to leave their scent on their mate in any way which may include: scenting, continuous claiming marks, and sexual acts.”

He shot Derek a raised eyebrow and his grin widened. He kept reading, “Sexual intimacy is very important in a mate bond and should not be taken lightly. Sex, especially unprotected sex, leaves the couple smelling like each other and claimed for weeks.”

Stiles flushed, remembering the blow jobs they exchanged in the bathroom stall at school on Derek’s birthday. His family had to have been able to smell that.

“The wolf may experience difficulty controlling their shift during sexual acts and may have to relearn control. This is due to high levels of emotion that result from a sex bond. Wolves are warned to be careful if their mates are not fellow wolves.”

He glanced up and found Derek blushing; he couldn’t help his smile, knowing now why Derek needed the blindfold. He paused, tilting his head, “Was the Kate thing a lie?”

Derek winced but shook his head, “Not really. She did critique everything I did, including my face and body and ya know.” He blushed again, “But she never knew I was a wolf and I’ve never had trouble with control until you. Not like Cora.”

Stiles frowned, “That’s what she’s doing in South America? Learning control?”

Derek nodded and Stiles hummed, “And that’s why you went at Christmas?”

Another nod and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he looked down, “Didn’t help that much.”

Derek squeezed his fingers and he bit his lip, about to start reading before pausing and looking back up, “Oh and by the way, you have the face of an angel, the body of Greek God and your cock is one of the seven wonders of the world. Moving on.”

He felt Derek’s grin on his skin as he continued reading, “Sex is also one of the ways the bond is strengthened although shared traumatic events or prolonged exposure will result in the same thing. The strongest mate bond will result if the couple spends eight hours or more in each other’s company for no less the four days a week, with communication between the two constantly even when they are not together. They will have a strong and healthy sex life and find it difficult to stay away from each other or keep their hands off each other. They will also likely have shared at least one traumatic experience, usually a life or death instance.”

Stiles didn’t want to think about watching Derek’s wolf whimper so he moved on, “The wolf is not the only one who will experience the draw of the mate bond. All of the aforementioned symptoms will most likely appear in the mate, wolf or no in a variety of ways. Something that has been observed more in the mate, though it is not altogether uncommon for the wolf to feel it as well, is the desire to bare their neck. The mate will not only know instinctively how to calm their mate and rile them up, they will also instinctively know how to communicate in wolf terms. The baring of the neck often means submission but it can also be seen as acquiescence or consent. When a mate bares their neck, they are more than likely feeling the pull of the bond and the love they have for their wolf.”

Stiles rubbed his neck, feeling the need to bare it now but knowing it wasn’t time yet. He was happy to remember that Derek had often bared his neck as well. A hand came up to cover Stiles’ and he let his hand drop away so Derek could touch. He nearly bared his neck just from that but he was almost done with the entry.

“A werewolf mate bond can be a glorious thing, making both the wolf and their mate stronger and more fulfilled. However, with great connection there can also be great loss.”

Stiles felt Derek’s hand tighten on his neck, he read on, “It is so common that this text might even say inevitable that when one member of the bond passes away, the other is sure to follow swiftly.”

Derek growled and Stiles brought his hand back up to cover his, to give comfort, “Perhaps the only way to truly prove a mate bond is in death or when the bond is severed, damaged or drawn taught. When this happens, expected symptoms include: decreased rate of healing, decreased reflexes, looking wan or ill, lack of sleep, lack of motivation to do anything at all. A non-wolf will suffer all of these and more but the wolf will also show outwards signs of deterioration. Their claws will begin to crack and break and the most notable: their eyes will shift but they will no longer glow. It is recommended that the bond is healed quickly through any means necessary or the result may and often will be death.”

Stiles took a shaky breath, closing the Grimoire and spinning it before sheathing the knife and finally looking up. Derek looked tired, completely on the edge of collapse and Stiles felt much the same way. But the book didn’t mention the need. The screaming clawing need inside that felt like it was carving him from the inside out. Maybe he’d add that. And a lot more about the mate side of things. That entry was way too geared towards wolves.

Stiles lifted a hand, tracing it along Derek’s cheek. Understanding what he wanted, Derek closed his eyes and when he opened them Stiles had to hold back from crying out. Derek’ eyes were yellow but they were flat, flatter even than his normal eyes, like they were made matte.

A whimper escaped his lips as he threw all pretenses out the window and crawled into his lap. Derek held him tight and fast, their eyes never leaving each other.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles whispered but Derek was immediately shaking his head.

“No. I should have been there for you. I should have been at your side not chasing down stupid monsters.”

Stiles shook his head, “You were doing your duty as a pack member. As a Hale. You were saving lives. I understand that, I do.”

“But you didn’t know because I couldn’t—”

Stiles made frustrated noise, “I know that now. I just didn’t before. I thought you were hiding it because you thought I’d freak out.”

Derek shook his head, “Everything, Stiles. You have every piece of me. Even when I couldn’t tell you, you knew. With the moon flower and the blind fold. Fuck you knew when I was in control and when I wasn’t and that night at the Nemeton…”

Stiles flinched and Derek squeezed him tighter, “You knew it was me. I could see it in your eyes. You took one look at my wolf form and you knew.” He shook his head, “I should have known you needed me.”

Stiles shook his head, looking down, “You’re not mad about that? Me approaching a wolf in the forest on a full moon?”

Derek huffed a laugh, “I can’t say I was thrilled to see you there. Especially since we were tracking the Darach but I looked at you and I thought—Maybe. Maybe you could figure it out on your own. I had all these plans to plant seeds where I could. Even considered not holding back when we…but then you woke up and you just knew and I—”

Stiles smiled, placing his hands on Derek’s cheeks and memorizing his face all over again, “I did figure it out on my own. I mean I had a little help but you didn’t break your command. You didn’t tell me. I’d like to think I’d have gotten there eventually.”

Derek put his head on Stiles’ shoulder and just breathed for a moment, “You definitely would have. You’re so smart, Stiles. You’re smart, beautiful, funny, kind, fierce.”

Stiles pulled back, wiggling his fingers, “and now I can control grass. Don’t forget that.”

Derek grinned and Stiles felt the need to trace his lips with his fingers. Derek pressed a kiss to his fingertips and spoke even as Stiles held his fingers there, “I think you should accept them. I think it makes sense, you with magic. But whatever you decide. You’ll figure it out. And if—if you’ll have me. I’ll be at your side the whole way. I’ll never stop showing you how sorry I am and how much I—” He shuttered before he glanced up, his eyes yellow and Stiles swore he saw the faintest glow, “How much I love you.”

Stiles just stared at him for a long time, his hands moving over his face, making up for lost time. When he was ready, when he could bear to look away, he simply closed his eyes and let his head fall back and to the side, showing his wolf how much he loved him.

Derek growled and Stiles let out a soft moan as he felt his lips descend, marking Stiles as his, as claimed.