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The Mask of the Enigma

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Derek hasn’t seen Stiles since before left. He was one of the few reason why he came back. There was something about the spastic boy that he couldn’t wrap around his head.

 

An anomaly or enigma to everything that Derek knew.

 

And he trusted Stiles.

 

Which okay, shouldn’t be that farfetched. Stiles has saved Derek’s life for no real reason, when he didn’t have to. He risked his own life for his. Shown his loyalty to Derek even when he was an alpha (Derek not Stiles) but still considered Scott his alpha.

 

Derek shouldn’t trust him.

 

Because when Derek trusts humans, or supposed humans he always ends up on the short side of the stick. His heart breaks, families dies and everything he tried to push up to shatters with the snap of someone else’s fingers.

 

Yet Stiles wormed his way past his barriers.

 

So when Scott says that everyone should meet at the loft to talk about what is going on he preens. Just the image of Stiles in front of him makes him internally smile. Because that means that he has time to figure him out; and that’s one of Derek’s favourite things to do. Not that he would admit to it.

 

He tries to remember the things he knows for certain about Stiles. His minty scent, the colour of his hazelnut eyes, certain mannerisms with his hands when he talks, the painful fill looks he gets when upset that completely ruin Derek, his weird but not unhealthy heartbeat, his soft sleeping face but most of all; his bright white-blue aura.

 

Derek always tried to catalogue it with other people’s auras. It wasn’t like a wolf; whose aura change depending on their status (according to Peter it changed because of their sparks). He also knew it wasn’t a kitsune, of all of the thirteen that he knows about they always took shape of an animal in spiritual form. Plus Stiles would have to be either of this things, which could be tested other ways.

 

There were human auras too. The Argents had white ones, probably due to the fact that all hunter families are descendants of Gabriel’s children; the Nephilim. A pure aura in the ways of an angel. Deaton was a muddy green; a colour Derek now associates with pure good Druids. Jennifer; or Julia was more of a rusty red darkened six times.

 

Lydia’s had a purple to hers. There was only one other way to describe it and even then it didn’t really seem to work. Though it did make Derek wonder how the hell her aura was so bloody neon without it actually being bright. He figured it was probably because she too was an enigma, later immune.

 

Every other human aura was bland, the actual colour depending on race and culture.

 

Even to this day Derek couldn’t figure out his aura and what it meant. He would stay up at night thinking about it. Especially when he was alone. It irked him not to have a definite answer.

 

Derek was so engrossed into it that he could pinpoint it in a moment. It was just Stiles.

 

So when Scott and Stiles arrived at the loft Derek knew something was wrong. He could feel it before he actually saw them. Stiles sounded the same, heart beat normal for him but the air around him was different. Heavy almost as it contrasted against Scott’s new heavier feeling; like bricks were on Scott’s shoulder. Stiles always felt like a feather in the wind; bird-like almost.

 

Right now Derek felt that Stiles was drowning, it was in the air. He cautiously descended the stairs, eyes searching for the human boy.

 

Other people walked in, though Derek took no notice continuing his self-appoint search. Stiles’ back was turned when Derek found him; he was alone.

 

“Stiles?”

 

Stiles turned giving hi usual greeting of ‘hey,’ the word seemed wrong, but that wasn’t what made Derek feel hurt. A dark presence surrounded the younger boy, made his brow frown. “What’s wrong?”

 

“You’re not Stiles, are you.” A question said as a statement, very Derek like.

 

Stiles features broadened, made himself manly in ways the boy couldn’t accomplish alone. That’s all the answer Derek needed to launch his attack, barrelling forward without thinking. Without calling for help. Stiles stopped him dead, golden light flashing emerging from his hand in with the movement.

 

Derek’s eyes flashed their electric blue. “Stiles! Fight it!” A moment passed before Derek landed on the floor.

 

Never had he seen such auras swirling around each other. The white was clashing the black, the blueness washing away the spirit form. Derek couldn’t move or look away from his spot on the floor. Even when it was done though, Derek knew that a small part was still there.

 

The Nogitsune was still inside Stiles.

 

Stiles just looked at his hand after that, looking as though he was counting something. But Derek relaxed. The room’s air was back to its bird feather self.

 

“Derek?”

 

“Yes Stiles?”

 

“How did I get in here? Last thing I remember was me getting a sedative at the hospital.”

 

Derek shook his head. “Don’t worry about that now Stiles.” Placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder as he smiled. “I’m here to help.”

 

It must have been his tone because Stiles look him in the eye. “Okay, then tell me why I have the urge to thank and kiss you.” Derek laughed this was the true Stiles; the enigma that haunts Derek’s thoughts doing his enigma things.

 

“Because you were playing the damsel in distress and I was the white knight.” Derek didn’t know what came over him, but the werewolf said it in a joking manner. “I may have saved you from yourself.”

 

Stiles’ eyes widened before pulling Derek in towards him. Whether that kiss they shared was intentional on Stiles’ part? Derek will never know.

 

Because to Derek, Stiles was an enigma without a mask.