FBI (For Basic Idiots)

A Helping Hand

“Yes, dad, of course I bought you Turkish Delight... Obviously the rose and melon ones.” Stiles rolls her eyes, phone trapped between ear and shoulder as she ties her unruly hair into a messy bun on top her head.

“Yes, I bought you the cufflinks, too... Yes; the same ones you wore and lost at your wedding. You know this. I sent you the photo on w******p, like, ten times. Check your messages, old man.” She laughs at his response.

“Nat still stressing?” She sighs, shakes her head, is smiling amusedly as she says, “I dunno why she doesn’t just sit back, relax and let Red do the rest. It's an anniversary party for you guys, not your actual wedding, AND it’s what both daughters and party planners are for in this situation. And it’s lucky for us that Red is both of those things.”

Stiles cackles at his reply. “Ah, that’s the problem, huh? Lydia does love taking charge. Surprised she’s not our Alpha instead of Scott.”

Her dad lets out an exasperated groan, then, playfully calls her his “beautiful little monster” – the nickname her mother used to give her. That makes Stiles smile. But then, he asks how she’s been lately, and Stiles always hates lying to him, but even more, can’t bare to burden him with her bullshit. The man retired a few years ago now, and after all his own bullshit he’s been through, nobody knows better than Stiles – and maybe Nat – how much he really deserves his peace and quiet.

So, like she always does, Stiles smiles to try to fool herself and tells him, “I’ve been good. Nothing too major. Just real swamped with work. Until now, I haven’t even really seen the pack for a while. I’ll head up to see you over New Year, if that’s OK?”

She smiles, a real smile, when he tells that’s more than OK, and that he can’t wait to see her, and as always, how much he misses her. “I miss you, too, dad... Yeah, one by one, everybody’s finishing work for the holidays this week... Today? Not much. Just helping Jordan with a case out of boredom. Might go see if Derek needs a hand with anything.”

Stiles flushes terribly, feels her face f*****g burning at her father’s silly words, practically sputters out her words. “Oh. My God. You are my father. Why would you say something like that?”

He laughs, delivers what he probably thinks is a rather witty response, and Stiles scoffs loudly before sarcastically replying, “Oh, so, ‘I bet I know what Derek would like you to give him a HAND with?’ isn’t TOTALLY f****d up for a guy to say to his kid?!”

He laughs again, louder this time, replies rather wittily this time, and Stiles has to huff loudly in defeat before admitting, “Yeah, I know I’m worse.” She scoffs, snootily adds, “But where do you think I get it from?”

She scoffs again, louder. “My mother was an angel compared to you, father Lucifer.”

She smiles softly when he doesn’t hesitate to agree on the angel part. He tells her then, voice filled with affection, how so very much Stiles looks like her mother, more and more the older she grows. He tells her he’s sorry, like he always does whenever he’s had a little too much red wine, and Stiles can only chuckle heartily and tells him he needs to get his ass in bed before Nat comes home and kicks his ass into bed for him. He tells her she’s right, like he always does, and Stiles smiles as she listens to him yawning and shuffling around.

“Goodnight, pops. Love you.”

“Night. Love you, too, mały potwór. [– little monster.]”

Stiles smiles softly to herself, does so every time he calls her that, always has. “See you real soon.”

###

Derek is always a welcome sight for Stiles, but she doesn’t expect to find him standing right in front of her already when she opens Melissa’s front door.

“HOLY mother of s**t!” With a hand over her slightly racing heart, Stiles takes a couple of moments to compose herself.

Derek smirks, arches a brow, asks her with clear taunting in his tone, “Mother of... s**t?” His smirk can only widen in utter glee when she raises that pretty glare – that rivals his own as always, that’s why he finds it so pretty – to him.

“Are you, like, a mind-reader, or something?” Stiles self-consciously pulls her hood over her messy bun when she sees him looking at her hair. She diverts his attention by saying, “I was on my way over to your place.”

Derek tries not too look so obvious; tries not to look too happy about her words. He just hopes he doesn’t sound just as pathetic as he feels as he asks, “You were?”

Stiles purses her lips to keep from smiling at how adorable his little wolfy head tilt is. She nods, tells him, “Yeah. I was... gonna ask if you wanted to help me... with a spell.”

Derek holds back the urge to smile at her sweet and rather bashful smile – like she thinks he has so many things better to do than hang out with her... he wishes he was that interesting. Although, only so he could seem more interesting to Stiles... ugh. He is pathetic.

“What kind of spell? Is it dangerous?” Derek hopes he looks more like a concerned friend than a slightly terrified werewolf in actual real love (finally, he thinks – what with his track record... Jeez.)

Stiles grins as she answers. “A location spell. And no, it’s not dangerous. I just...” She smiles sheepishly, uses her magic to keep herself from blushing. “I can’t do it alone. It requires a helping hand.”

And WHY the f**k did she say THAT?!

Out of ALL the things she COULD have said!

Ugh!

She is SO going to make her dad pay for this...

Thankfully for Stiles, Derek – bless his sweet werewolf heart, doesn’t seem to notice that she’s having an internal meltdown. Although, maybe he’s just used to see it so much, he can no longer tell the difference over whether it’s happening again or not.

“Sure, OK.” Derek nods, shrugs a little, adds, “Beats cleaning the rooms of a bunch of spoilt werebrats.”

Stiles laughs. “Ah, sourwolf, your sense of humour is almost fully grown, and I almost have nothing left to teach you.”

Derek shoots her a withering look before sarcastically asking, “Remember when we used to talk less? I miss those days.”

Stiles scoffs, grins as she brushes passed him, without even looking back, tells him, “You talked less.”

Derek smirks to himself, mumbles his words just loud enough for her to hear. “You’re right. I don’t think it’s possible for you to talk less.” He jokes, but he really has grown to adore her incessant ramblings. He chuckles when he doesn’t bother to turn around, only flips him the her middle finger over her shoulder.

###

Stiles hadn’t thought much of leaving a few of her magic props and ingredients in Derek’s loft. Over the years, she’s left the odd thing here and there, sometimes simply forgetting about them, or other times, because she knows they’ll be safe with him. But when he presents them all to her in a small wooden chest, on top of arranging every item so neatly inside, Stiles’ insides can only fricking take so much giddiness.

Derek notices her admiring the patterns on the box – intricate vines of leaves and berries, so delicate and beautiful, they could only remind him of her – he tries not to sound so nervous as he tells her, “Just thought it’d be easier than you having to waste time looking for everything. And, uh, the box belonged to my mom.” He smiles, shakes his head when she opens her mouth to protest, tells her, “It’s just been sitting empty in the vault since the fire. This is a better use for it.”

Stiles sighs, but nods, sends him a grateful smile. Though, she’s still confused, so asks him, “How’d it survive?”

“It’s magicproof. Pretty sure that means it’s fireproof, too.” Derek smiles when she arches an impressed brow, his eyes tracking those lovely slender and nimble fingers of hers running carefully over the box. He explains, “I never knew what she kept in it. Maybe she never kept anything in it, because when I found it after the fire and Laura finally opened it with me, it was empty.” He smiles fondly. “It would be just like her if she only pretended she kept something important in there just to tease our dumb asses.”

Stiles grins, can only imagine. “She sounds like a fun person. What happened when she had you?”

Derek scoffs, sounds rather offended as he tries to defend himself. “I’m a fun a person.”

“Heh.” Stiles puffs out a small chuckle, then, shakes her head and seriously tells him, “No.”

“I can be fun!” Derek snips, scowling deeply.

“Nope.” Stiles shakes her head again, chuckles again when he gives her his usual (sexy) glare.

Derek huffs, but knows better than to argue with her; knows he can never win. “Are we doing this spell or what?”

Stiles smirks, but relents easily this time. She opens the box and begins to stock up on all the ingredients and various other objects she might need.

With Derek’s help, they quickly finish setting everything up – with white chalk that signifies purity, Derek draws a circle big enough for the both of them to stand comfortably in, also draws a full moon and a half moon just outside of the circle to represent constant change (constant movement), and then draws the Sun at the opposite side of the circle to represent the constant and consistency of the universe.

Meanwhile, Stiles sets up the two black candles – black like dark matter; the blood of the universe – and two candles to represent the balance of ying and yang. And when she glances back to Derek, he’s shooting her another withering look, those lovely bare and bulging arms of his crossed over his wonderfully broad chest.

“Did you just make me do most of the work?” Derek asks, tries to sound more annoyed than he is actually amused.

“No...” Stiles grins, sweetly tells him, “You’re better at drawing than I am.”

Derek rolls his eyes, turns away from her to set the chalk box back into the wooden box. Though, only so he can hide his smile from her.

Stiles lets herself admire his lovely tight backside for a split second, because she knows how in tune these damn wolves are; knows he’ll feel her eyes on him if she’s not careful.

He used to catch her quite a lot, especially through her teen years – when she was trying to ignore and deny her crush on him. But admittedly, she has got a lot better over the years. He doesn’t seem to catch her at all anymore.

Stiles mouths a silent “wow” to herself, screws her eyes shut as she turns away from him altogether. She uses her magic to calm herself, hopes he didn’t hear the small leap in her pulse before she managed to do so. Thankfully for her, he either doesn’t notice, or just doesn’t mention it.

Of course, it doesn’t help that he still regularly works out, keeps himself in shape... and that that shape has only seemed to bulk up over the years. The older he gets, the better he looks, and Stiles just feels like a little pervert whenever she lets her thoughts of him stray too far... which is often. She has limited self-control.

Which leads her to feeling guilty then, because... well, because of how Kate treated him... how she f*****g abused and traumatised him...

Ugh.

And now, she just feels like a guilty turd again...

“What’d you need me to do for you?”

Stiles jumps, his voice bringing her back out of her head. She turns to face him, ignores his stupid (sexy) little amused smirk. The unhelpful part of her mind supplies that there is SO much he could do for her. Stiles ignores that part of her with mind with all her might, instead, breaks the spell down for him.

“The spell requires you as a prop, while I will be the caster. You take this.” Stiles delves into the wooden box and hands him a small golden globe with the world map engraved into it. She smiles when he takes it, glances between it and her. “You represent gravity. Hold the earth, step in and out of the circle four times, then walk around it twice before stepping back into it, and then you give the globe a little shake.”

“That’s it?” Derek arches a brow – seems simple enough, he thinks.

Stiles smiles at his not so impressed expression, nods, replies, “That’s it.”

Derek nods. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

Stiles really needs to get her mind out of the gutter – twisting every little thing he says. She’s sick, she knows. And honestly, she really could have done this spell alone. But she doesn’t want to be alone with herself right now.

“I’m ready.” Stiles nods, watches him do as he’s been instructed with a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Derek steps in and out of the circle, does it another three times before he walks around it twice and finally steps back into it. He glances towards her, carries on when she nods her approval – pathetically feels the wolf inside him preening as she watches and silently praises (s**t, Kate really did f**k him up mentally; twisted his Beta nature and mended it to her own will, effectively ruining his childhood and his life.) He shakes the thoughts off as he gives the golden globe in his hand a firm shake, then, glances towards her again.

“Perfect.” Stiles stupidly fails to use her magic in time to stop herself blushing. And she still is very much NOT immune to sputtering in his presence. “The spell, I mean.” She clears her throat, doesn’t dare to look at him for the moment and turns her back on him as smoothly as possible, instead, busies herself with rooting around for the last stick of sage – pretending, because he really did do a nice neat job of organising her things.

Derek smirks as he watches her, and can’t help but wonder if he really should just finally go for it and ask her out on a date, at the very least. He feels that same flicker of hope every time she blushes because of him, every time he hears her heart leap or race because of him, every time he feels her eyes linger on him. He, of all people – because of Kate – knows a silly teenage crush. But Stiles isn’t a teenager anymore. And yet, she still reacts to him as she always has. He really can’t help wondering... hoping... maybe finally deciding to do something about it...

Stiles rises to her feet, clicks her fingers over the sage stick, instantly setting light to it. She chuckles when the wolf’s eyes widen, a small, but clearly impressed smile spread over those lovely pink lips.

Ugh. Stop her. Someone. Please. Anyone.

Stiles waits for the flame to die down, waits until the sage begins to let off soft plumes of smoke. “Sorry if the smell is too much.”

Derek chuckles lightly at her sheepish smile – feels that sweet little wave of affection every time she’s mindful over their sensitive senses (his especially, because he’s the only one born a wolf; his senses all the more sensitive for it.)

“It’s fine.” He simply tells her, doesn’t want to distract her, knows how delicate – and volatile – magic can be.

“OK, here we go. No stepping outta the circle until I’m done.”

Derek nods.

Stiles places the sage under the two moons, then steps over the sun. She waits until Derek turns in the circle to face her, feels her pulse skip two beats when they’re eyes meet and hold. She takes a deep breath, mainly to keep her composure as he stares calmly back at her – she’d feel calm looking back into those eyes, if he didn’t make her feel so giddy all the damn time. She motions for him to hold the golden globe out, and their eyes stay glued to one another’s as he lifts the globe, and Stiles lifts both her hands over it, hovering just an inch away.

“Don’t be afraid for me.” Stiles tells him, smiles softly when his eyes only crease with concern. “This spell is pretty old, so this is the first time I’m trying it.” She grins when he shoots her a withering look again. “It might not even work.” She rolls her eyes when he simply glares at her half-heartedly. “We’ll be fine.”

Derek shakes his head, but stays silent, eyes still glued to hers as she finally begins the second half of the spell. And he’s simply mesmerised with the faint blue glow around her, not to mention the flawless way she speaks – what he recognises (barely) – as Latin. And when her eyes start to burn, swallowing her pupils and irises whole, he really cannot look away.

“Ego lux in his tenebris sum. [I am a light in this darkness.] Ego sum opifex umbrarum. [I am a maker of shadows.] Hanc umbram quaero priusquam me quaerit. [I seek this shadow before it seeks me.]”

At that last sentence, Stiles pictures the nogitsune in his purest form as clearly as she can, and then... nothing. She feels... nothing.

Derek blinks the brightness of her glow away as it disappears as quickly as it arose. He watches her blink, glowing eyes instantly returning to normal (lovely) amber, sees her look of confusion. “What happened? Are you OK?”

Stiles’ eyes meet his again, and she would smile at the concerned look on his pretty face, if she wasn’t so damn confused right now. “I’m fine.” She reassures him first, knows how much her wolves need that type of comfort – or wolves in general, as far as she’s seen with other packs, too.

Derek watches her back her way to his couch before plopping down on it. He finally places the golden globe back in the wooden box and walks over to her, perches opposite her on the coffee table again. “What is it?” He asks softly when he sees her troubled look.

Stiles glances back at him, frowning in confusion as she tells him, “The spell told me that the nogitsune doesn’t even exist anymore...”