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My Thoughts Are Not My Own

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Derek doesn’t even know something is wrong until a week later.

They had dealt with a witch who, although filled with good intentions, had made an awful mess in Beacon Hills. It took way too long to track her down, and by the time they found her, she already had half the town under some kind of spell that had gone awry. She was young and naive and upon learning about her powers had gone off on her own instead of finding a coven or some kind of training.

Luckily, it hadn’t taken much convincing to ensure she saw the error of her ways (she already had seen the mess and was trying to fix it but had only made it worse), and get her in contact with a coven experienced in new witches and training and send her on her way. She had mumbled something about a parting gift to Derek about knowing his heart’s desire and object of affections, but he didn’t think anything of it, desperate to get this witch out of his territory and to clean up the mess that she left behind.

Most of the spells, according to Deaton (who conveniently was out of town and only reachable by email) would wear off on their own. Any others that were still lingering, he said he’d take care of when he got back… in three weeks.

So Derek had hoped for the best, and luckily most of the spells on unsuspecting residents did go away, and its victims made up their own explanations as the citizens of Beacon Hills are wont to do these days.

Derek himself feels completely normal and had forgotten about any gifts or spells bestowed on him until he’s sitting outside the Sheriff’s station. He gets out of the car and has the thought that he desperately wants curly fries, no cheese fries, no chili cheese fries, NO CHILI CHEESE CURLY FRIES.

He freezes in the parking lot, a little confused by his own thoughts. He’s craved fries, sure, but he’s pretty sure he would never have the thought to get chili cheese curly fries. It sounds like something Stiles would want, if he’s being honest.

He shakes it off and goes into the station to see Stiles sitting in front of his dad’s office. When Stiles notices Derek, he smiles, and as Derek goes to say hi, the thought, God why is he always so hot, floats in his brain. He’s sure he’s thought about Stiles in such a manner, but he doesn’t think he’s ever used the term hot before. More like attractive, maybe?

“What’s up, big guy?” Stiles asks.

“I… uh…,” Derek starts, confused when his brain supplies, My boner ever since you walked in. Geez it’s unfair for you to look like that.

Derek’s standing there, brows furrowed, mouth open, because he’s almost positive he wouldn’t have thought that.

“Derek? Cat got your tongue?”

Or wolf, ha ha.

“I’m… your dad wanted my help on a few cold cases he’s working on that he suspects might be supernatural in nature.”

“Gotcha,” Stiles replies with a nod.

Should bring them lunch, I still want those fries.

“Are you getting food?” Derek asks.

“Yeah. Want me to bring you something?”

Because I’m too chicken to ask you out for food. Chicken… that sounds good. Healthy. For dad.

As soon as Derek hears the last part in his head, he thinks he might know what might be going on.

“Yeah If that’s okay?” Derek replies, remembering Stiles had asked him a question.

“Cool. I’m going to Rosie’s, just text me what you want,” Stiles says with a wave as he walks out.

I hope my ass looks good. I wonder if he’s looking. I always look when he leaves. Don’t turn around, keep walking.

The thoughts seem to grow fainter as Stiles walks away, and when he gets in his Jeep and drives off, the random thoughts that are decidedly not Derek’s vanish.


“Problem, son?” the Sheriff asks.

“Yeah…. there might be. Remember that witch last week?”

Sheriff nods and ushers him into his office, shutting the door behind them.


By the time Stiles comes back with lunch for all three of them (lunch and his jumble of thoughts in Derek’s head), Derek has figured out what happened. And also had a rather uncomfortable conversation with the Sheriff about honor and being safe.

“Uh, someone want to fill me in?” Stiles asks.

“Sit down,” Sheriff replies, gesturing at the chair next to Derek in front of the desk.

Am I in trouble? I feel like I’m getting grounded or like Dad’s going to have a frank discussion with Derek and I about safe sex. God, I wish. Actually, no I don’t want the convo, but safe sex with Derek? Yes, please. Sign me up.

“This is not good,” Derek says, confused and lost in his own thoughts mixed in with Stiles’s.

“Uh, hello?” From the other siiiiide! Stiles waves his hand around. “Anyone going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I think it only works when we are in close proximity,” Derek says to the Sheriff.

Stiles gives him a dirty look. Just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean you can treat me like crap. Stop ignoring me asshole!

“I’m not ignoring you! It’s just a lot to process!” Derek snaps.

Stiles stills, eyes wide. “I… didn’t say anything…”

“That’s the problem,” Derek mutters.

“Derek here can apparently hear your thoughts whenever you’re near, courtesy of the witch from last week.”


“That’s what I said,” Derek replies to Stiles’s thought.

Oh my god. This is not good.

“Yeah, I know,” Derek says.

“Uh… is it just me? Why me?”

Derek shifts uncomfortable, looking at the Sheriff, face hopeful of a rescue so he doesn’t have to explain.

“Don’t look at me,” Sheriff says with a shrug. “This is your problem.”

Derek sighs. “Before the witch left, she said something about how she’d thank me by helping me find the object of my affections or true love or something. It sounded stupid, so I ignored it.”

Stiles’s face is still frozen, lips open in shock, but Derek can hear his thoughts, and… it’s mostly screaming and Stiles saying “Shit,” and telling himself to stop thinking and repeating “true love” and “affection” every now and then.

Derek can feel his face going red, and he groans, burying his face in his hands.

“I’m going to leave you two alone,” the Sheriff says, standing from his desk and all but fleeing his office.

“So… does this mean what I think it means?” Stiles says, but thinks, Derek, do you love me?

“Yes.” Derek quickly adds, “To both.”

Stiles grins before looking down bashfully. I love you, too. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“I know,” Derek says with a slight smirk, which leads to Stiles playfully shoving him in the arm in response.

“How do we fix it? Cause I mean… it’s cool, but I know my thoughts. You must have a headache.” Sorry.

Derek nods. “I don’t know. I guess we could wait until it wears off. I’ll just stay away from you for a while.”

Stiles frowns. Nope. Do not like. “I have a better idea. You said true love, right? We could… try true love’s kiss? She seemed like that kind of cliched witch.”

Derek gets a little excited, but plays it off with a shrug. “Worth a try, I guess.”

Stiles leans in, and Derek can feel and hear how nervous he is, how he’s fluctuating between telling himself to stop thinking, be cool, and “oh my god this is really happening.” Derek chuckles a little at the tumbling thoughts he can hear from Stiles. He pulls Stiles in with a hand on the back of his neck and seals their mouths together.

He’s too caught up in the feeling of Stiles’s lips against his that he almost doesn’t notice the sudden silence and lack of Stiles’s thoughts in his head.

He breaks the kiss and pulls back, staring at Stiles’s slightly flush cheeks and resisting kissing him again.

“I think that might have worked,” Derek whispers.


“Think something.”

Stiles closes his eyes briefly and opens them.

“I don’t hear anything. What did you think of?”

“I thought about how much I want to keep kissing you, but not in my dad’s office.”

Derek laughs. “Alright. Come on, then,” he says, standing up and taking Stiles by the hand to lead him outside, thankful he has Stiles and only his own thoughts in his head. Guess that witch wasn’t so bad after all.