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He has no idea who the man with the ethereal beauty is in his dreams, but he knows they will eventually meet.

Stiles has been seeing visions for as long as he can remember. It was passed down from his mother’s side of the family - a gift, no matter how much it felt like a curse. They started in his dreams. His mom was oblivious to him inheriting it until he started talking, telling stories of Mrs. Baker down the street’s car breaking down, his babysitter’s failed exam, and his friend Scott’s mom’s marital issues.

The last one was a little hard to understand as a kid. He didn’t quite get why Mr. and Mrs. McCall argued so much. It made him wake up in a grumpy mood. He foretold her leaving him a week before she did and he didn’t miss the smirk on his mom’s face when she heard.

She died when he was eleven, whispering nonsense into his ear about how he has to be prepared for something in the future he didn’t understand. His dad just didn’t understand his visions the way she did; he didn’t want her to leave.

He doesn’t interfere with the manifestations, preferring to just be prepared to clean up the damages. This has made him quite a few unlikely friends throughout his adolescence. Once he reached high school, he should have been at the absolute bottom of the food chain, but he squeezed his way into the hearts of everyone at the top. When he saw the queen bee Lydia Martin crying over her dad’s lack of confidence in her academic abilities after the parent-teacher conference, he showed up to the scene with tissues and moved her out of the public eye, splitting a chocolate bar with her. When the lacrosse golden boy Jackson Whittemore had a surprising breakdown over finding out he was adopted, Stiles appeared with all the right words and a pamphlet on the topic. Jackson was right to be weirded out by him, but he still found an unlikely friendship with the hyperactive boy. Scott, well, Stiles always helped him. He lent him a pen the morning that Allison Argent moved to Beacon Hills High, knowing damn well that he would need it to give it to the girl when she asked. They started dating a month later.

It was all easy stuff, then he turned sixteen. He had a vivid dream on the night of his birthday of a fire with everyone from adults to babies screaming inside. He knew it was at the Hale house, the old family’s home that was burned to the ground, but that was the past. Stiles sees the future. He woke up covered in sweat to his dad slamming his door open. Apparently he was screaming, but he was shaking too hard to control his body.

It’s been hard since then. He told his dad he thought the vision was of the past and didn’t comment further, shrinking into a shell of himself. Why couldn’t any of the Hale’s escape their house? Why were wolves howling? There’s no wolves in California.

Then he started seeing the man. He sees him smiling in a domestic setting, sometimes he even sees his own hands reaching out to hold him in a way that can’t be interpreted as anything other than romantic. He’s tall and broad and has eyes that Stiles never sees long enough to find the exact colour - it’s somewhere between hazel and green - and he knows that he loves him. Or, maybe he doesn’t now, but he knows he will , and the future him is still him.

They met when he’s searching for a body in the woods with Scott. Stiles could feel his heart stop when his voice called out to the two friends, turning to see the same dark haired beauty haunting his dreams. He knew instantly that he’s a werewolf - Scott got turned into one, it was a long story but he figured it out by himself - but he doesn’t know how he can tell this guy is one. He wasn’t even positive of their existence until he brought it up to his only other supernatural colleague, the druid veterinarian, who let him in on a few secrets.

He brought it up right there, though, because he has no self preservation instincts.

“You’re a wolf.” He says softly, no louder than a breath of air, but he knows the supernatural ears will pick it up. “Why didn’t I see this?”

“A seer.” The man tilted his head in obvious surprise. “Little conversations can go differently, but you would have probably confronted me if you knew that. You can't see things you can't change. We had to meet now, I guess.”

“I suppose it’s destiny.” Stiles smiled, completely aware of the flirting tone in his voice.

“That’s Derek Hale. ” Scott hissed, glaring at his best friend. “His sister’s the body we’re looking for.”

The smile falls from Stiles’ face in an instant. How did he not figure out that the man he’s supposed to fall in love with was the same man whose family burned in the nightmare he had not long before?

Derek looked confused beyond belief when Stiles’ breathing started to get short and light, taking a few short strides before he was in front of him, steadying his shoulders with his hands.

“Why did I dream about your past?” He choked, trying to ignore how good the arms felt around him and Scott’s wide eyes.

“Seer’s can dream share once they turn sixteen, I’m pretty sure. It was probably a nightmare of mine. I don’t know why your mind seeked out mine, though.” He explained softly. It was an anomaly to see such a gentle look on such harsh, masculine features.

“I do.” Scott snorted, realization dawning on his face. “The guy’s been groaning about some dude in his dreams with your exact description doing the most boring shit ever. Grocery shopping, walking to get the mail, you name it and Stiles has seen you doing it while holding his hand.”

“Way to be a subtle wingman, dude.” He rolled his eyes, noting that Derek didn’t move his hands from Stiles’ arms. If anything, he tightened them.

Derek beta shifted right there, because he’s evidently insane, and scanned red eyes over Stiles’ body. He growled softly, causing both he and Scott to freeze.

“Mate.” His voice rumbled right before he shoved his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck, rubbing his nose and teeth against the speckled skin.

“Please don’t bite me.” He squeaked, inciting shaking laughter out of the monstrous being. After a few moments, he felt Derek return to his human face, slowly retracting from his neck. The red fades from his eyes into the mixture of colours he had grown so fond of. The greens and browns swirled together until he couldn’t tell them apart anymore.

“I didn’t notice it. I thought I smelled Argent and I freaked out a bit.” He mumbled, a ghost of a smile on his face. “My wolf is singing right now.”
“You’re actually destined to be together? It’s like a bad romance novel.” Scott groaned before freezing where he stood. “Wait, you mean Allison Argent? My girlfriend?”

“Your girlfriend is the daughter of a long line of werewolf hunters, just a heads up.” Derek deadpanned. “We can discuss that later, though. None of us can focus right now.”

“I’m very focused.” Stiles argued.

“Focusing on sex counts as a distraction.” Derek said pointedly.

Stiles grinned deviously. “I already know what you like.”

Scott rolled his eyes and Derek whined a little.

“You’re still in high school, aren’t you?” He asked.

“And he’s the sheriff’s kid.” Scott piped in.

“Great.” Derek huffed. “Just great.


One Week Later


“Dad, it’s literally destiny.” Stiles throws his hands in the air again in exasperation. Derek’s hiding laughter beside him.

“Did you foresee a bullet hole in his chest because he tried anything before you turned eighteen?” Sheriff Stilinski runs a cloth down a long barrel of one of his many guns, pretending to clean it for dramatic effect.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “No.”

His dad nods. “Let’s keep it that way, because I will do it.”

“A boy can only dream.” Stiles clutches his heart in mock pain.

“Things better stay in your dreams and in your pants.” His dad pulled out a tone that clearly meant he should quit while he’s ahead, so he shut his mouth and nudged Derek, who had stood awkward and silent for the majority of his introduction to Stiles’ dad.

“Can we go now?” Stiles whines.

When the Sheriff reluctantly nods, he grabs Derek’s arm so fast that he almost gives his mate whiplash from pulling him out the door. Within a minute, they’re in Derek’s car and driving to the restaurant that they’d planned a date.

“This is going to suck until I’m eighteen.” He mumbles, leaning his head against the cold surface of the passenger seat window. “Seven more months.”

Derek’s right hand finds his, intertwining them. “I wish I wasn’t too old for you. I mean, I’m not mad that you’re young, but I wish I could be what you want us to be right now.”

“Please.” The teenager scoffs. “Fate knows exactly what my type is. I could use a lesson in patience. Or in discretion.”

Derek’s laughter is enough to put a smile on his face. He knows it’s going to be hard being limited in their contact for the next few months, but the genuine, wholehearted bliss alone is enough to get him through it.

If anything, it’s just building anticipation. He's been living in a mixed timeline for so long that he didn't really consider living the visions, and he suddenly finds himself craving the domesticity of them.

“I can't wait to spend my future with you.” Stiles mumbles happily.

Derek gently grabs one of his hands and intertwines it with his, pulling it to his lips and kissing it. Stiles scolds him for not having two hands on the wheel, but he smiles and his cheeks flush at the gesture.

“I wouldn't have it with anyone else.”

“You won't.” He grins. “I have a feeling.”

Derek laughs again, and Stiles wants to hear the sound every single day.