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Thanks For The Memories

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He remembers everything.  He told Scott and the others he didn’t, that he wasn’t really aware while the Demon was there.  But he was. 

 

He remembers what he said to Scott, about his dad and how he left because Scott wasn’t good enough, how even now with the wolf inside him he still wasn’t good enough, “Hey my mom just died, your dad chose to leave you.” Knew just the right words to say to cause the maximum amount of pain with the minimum amount of words.  Because Scott’s been his best friend forever and those exact words were whispered to Stiles in the dark when they were kids, when Scott still believed that Stiles would never use them against him. 

 

He remembers all the cruel things he said, to everyone; the stuff about Jackson’s birth parents, Erica’s epilepsy, Isaac’s dad.  He remembers whispering in Allison’s ear how she’s just like her Aunt, how one day she’ll turn on Scott.  She’ll kill him.  And she’ll like it.  How she can’t help it, it’s in her DNA.  You didn’t have to have known Allison from birth to see those fears lying just beneath the surface plain as day.  He remembers telling Lydia how she’s nothing more than a pretty face, how smart girls never get the hot guys, how Jackson left her because she wasn’t even good enough to hold onto the co-captain of the Lacrosse team, how he probably never loved her in the first place. 

 

He remembers being in the kitchen with his dad, cooking diner.  He remembers gripping the knife he’d been using to cut onions.  He remembers being a hair’s breadth away from shoving into his spine when the call came out over the police scanner.  He remembers never having felt so happy for a domestic disturbance call before in his life. 

 

More than any of that he remembers Derek.  Remembers the demon having the courage to do something Stiles had only allowed himself to think about late at night when he was alone in his room.  Remembers shoving Derek up against the wall for once.  Remembers the way Derek’s lips felt against his.  Remembers the scratch of Derek’s stubble against his cheek.  Remembers the feel of Derek’s abs against his fingertips.  Remembers the way Derek growled when his teeth scraped Derek’s neck.   Mostly he remembers Derek kissing him back. 

 

They won’t tell him what he did, refuse to talk about it at all.  He apologizes and they blow him off.  It wasn’t you Stiles, we understand.  But they don’t.  None of them do.  He remembers the look on Scott’s face and knows something’s broken in their friendship that Stiles is pretty sure he’ll never be able to fix it.  He remembers the exact moment that he lost whatever slim to non-existent chance he’d ever had with Lydia Martin, saw it crumble before his eyes. 

 

And he thinks he could live with all of that.  Live with the new found distance between him and Scott because if he’s honest it had started growing the moment Allison showed up.  He could live with Lydia looking straight through him as if he never existed because he’d spent the first 16 years of his life that way.  But he’s not sure he can live with remembering what Derek tastes like, remembering how Derek’s hands feel on his hips, remembering how his hands feel in Derek’s hair.  Because when he asks Derek if there’s anything he needs to apologize for, if there was anything Stiles did to Derek while he was possessed Derek says, “No.”

 

So now they’re both lying to each other and it’s exactly like it was before except it’s nothing like it was before.  And their good at pretending that nothing’s changed when everyone knows that everything’s changed.  They get really good at avoiding each other, at sidestepping the awkwardness because otherwise they’d have to admit to the awkwardness. 

 

And then somehow six months have gone by and Scott’s stopped guarding  his words when it’s just the two of them and Allison’s stopped cringing when he whispers something in her ear.  Lydia smiles at him sometimes in the hall and Isaac and Erica stop slamming him into lockers whenever they pass and he’s finally able to trust himself with sharp objects in the same room as his dad.  Jackson’s still an ass but then Jackson was always an ass. 

 

And then there’s Derek.  And he still remembers everything.  And he hates it.  Hates the way the memories burn in the pit of his stomach, hates the way they twist and tear at him until he can’t take it anymore.  And suddenly he’s shoving Derek up against the wall again and he’s kissing him again.  And he can feel Derek’s panic and he can feel Derek pushing him away but he doesn’t move, just pushes right back and says, “It’s me this time, I’m still here.” 

 

Derek stops pushing and rests his forehead against Stiles’ and they stand there like that for a while just sharing the same breath. 

 

“You remember?”  Derek asks, his voice low and Stiles squeezes his eyes shut before nodding, brushing his nose against Derek’s with every shake of his head. 

 

“Make me forget?” Stiles pleads. 

 

Derek doesn’t waste any time.  Hands that had been pushing Stiles away are now gripping his hips and shoving him against the wall.  And Stiles can feel Derek’s stubble scatch his cheek and he can feel Derek’s abs under his finger tips.  And it’s exactly the same but it’s completely different and when Derek’s fingers edge under the band of his jeans Stiles starts to forget.

 

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Derek wants to remember everything.  He wants to strip himself of all the old memories and then fill himself back up with new ones.  The way Stiles smells like spices and tastes like sugar, the way his finger pull desperately at Derek’s hair, the way his body jerks under Derek’s touch.  He wants to remember how it feels to be inside of Stiles, how every thrust shatters him, how every kiss puts him back together. 

 

Derek wants to remember everything.  So he helps Stiles forget.