(no subject)

[phnx]

--

"--And so, in recompense for our error, we offer you a gift: a single wish. Speak, and it will be so."

A wish, a wish that could be anything, a wish that could fix his entire world. He could wish that they'd never fallen into this trap, wish that Stiles had figured everything out sooner, wish that Stiles and Scott--and Boyd, and Erica were still alive--one wish, one wish...

He could wish that Cora had never left, that Laura had never died--

He could wish that his family were alive, that the fire had never happened--

Phrasing mattered, Derek remembered, his mind racing. Stiles had said the phrasing for this kind of shit mattered, that fairies or faeries or whatever would grant wishes by the words, not the meaning, skimming around the form of the request and ignoring the depths of intent. Say the wrong thing and his family could come back as, what, zombies or something, or maybe the fire wouldn't happen, but they'd still be dead for some other reason. He'd have to be bluntly clear, make sure he spoke literally, outline his wish with careful attention to detail, make sure it actually said what he wanted it to say, he'd have to--fuck, he couldn't do this, he never said the right thing at the best of times, and now he had to come up with the perfect wish, the wish that would solve everything, and he had to do it while collapsed on the ground, dizzy and bleeding and broken, and he just couldn't do this. He needed Stiles for this, why weren't they asking Stiles for this, he'd do so much better than Derek could, was so much better than Derek was.

His eyes flickered to where Stiles lay, motionless and empty, and he said to himself, "I should have gotten here sooner, should have protected him from the beginning."

"Your words were heard, your wish shall be answered--" the faerie intoned.

And fuck, didn't they know a wish when they heard one? That had been no wish--

"--Your memory, and that of your pack, will remain true to this moment, that you may remember our gift, and the debt repaid--"

No, no, no, redo, redo, this wasn't what he wanted, this wasn't what he needed, come on...

"We hope that you may find solace in its fulfillment."

The final thing that Derek, last living Hale, felt was anger. Big fucking surprise.

---

"Talia, I know this isn't exactly a... normal request, but... the child I carry will be born with the spark. I've been concerned, lately... it seems sometimes as though a darkness is brewing around me, a darkness that will come for my son--"

"Breathe, Claudia."

"Don't tell me to breathe, it's my son! How can I breathe?"

"I know the feeling. Tell me about your request."

"I--I had thought that you might consider appointing a guardian for him."

"A guardian."

"I know it's not the done thing anymore! It would basically just be a glorified babysitting job, anyway, I know I'm panicking about nothing, but I'd just feel better, and I know it can't be you, I know you're busy enough as is with your duties as Alpha--"

"Not Peter, either. I need him where he is. Laura, then? She's almost ten, now, and already has spectacular control. And a babysitter's license, since you brought it up."

"Laura... Yes, she'll do. She'll be perfect. It's better that she's young, maybe. She'll be old enough to be listened to and young enough to be heard."

"Then it's agreed."

---

Derek wakes up with a splitting headache and 150 pounds of Stiles sprawled on top of him. A quick glance around reveals an unfamiliar bedroom, bright and airy and comfortable, their shared scent think in the air. Along with the scent of sex. Lots of sex.

Stiles shifted, yawning unconcernedly. "Apparently, if you'd gotten to the warehouse earlier, we'd have gotten married."

Derek was finding it strangely difficult to be appropriately angry and wary in the new circumstances. "We're not married. Probably. And how do you even know about that? You were already dead by then."

Stiles smirked. "You mean when your offhand comment was misinterpreted as a wish and then miraculously granted? Yes, I was, thanks for remembering that factoid. This was part of the deal, though, wasn't it? Us remembering."

"I don't even know what the deal was."

"Well, right now I'm sort of heavenly comfortable, so forgive me for not being too terribly eager to find out what horrible ills have befallen the world due to your lack of a brain-to-mouth filter."

"Oh, because you're one to talk."

Stiles lazily pressed a finger against Derek's still-moving lips. "Shh, baby. We'll deal with this later. Sleep now."

And despite the bizarreness of the situation, Derek could acknowledge that this, this moment, was exactly what he wanted, what he needed, and though it couldn't come without the bad, right now, he could ignore that in favour of Stiles's scent, Stiles's skin, Stiles's eyes, Stiles's smile. Right now, everything was perfect.

Except--

"Don't call me baby," he said, settling back down beside Stiles. "Ever."