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the same thing in the end

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It's what you've wanted, but you're surprised because you usually don't get what you want.

There's a wolf in your bed, sleeping, and he looks so young, face pushed into the pillow, fingers curled tight around your wrist, and he's covered in your scent.

It wasn't always this way, he wasn't always this way. When he lost the last of his family, you weren't there. And he changed.

During the day, he tilts his head, as if listening to something you can't hear and maybe it's ghosts, maybe it's a pulse, maybe it's his blood.

He has wolf blood in his veins; between the two of you, you've shared so much blood, you might as well be kin. It's almost incestuous. He points it out to you on a Tuesday, three days before the full moon. He smiles and he has blood on his teeth.

You didn't want this for him, this hard living, wielding weapons like breathing, fighting day to day against encroachment and violent ignorance and revenge.

The big bad world prowls outside your door like a lion, waiting to devour you both, but you have a wolf in your bed.

Separate, you and he are dangerous. Together, you and he are cataclysmic.

He sighs in his sleep, still in bloodied clothes, boots topsy-turvy on the floor, painted with mud. Tonight, he had run through the woods with you, silent, because there were three dead bodies behind you. They'd tried to kill him. You killed one, he killed one, together you killed the last. He laughed, eyes glowing, that strange warm color, and you kissed him, you wanted to taste him, you always want to taste him, you always want him. He bit you and laughed again, he bit you and kissed you and there was blood on his teeth.

His hair is soft. He reminds you of so many things you used to have.

The wind sounds like a predator outside, but you have a wolf in your bed.

You suddenly want him awake, watching you like you watch him, those eyes, they see everything about you, so you say his name.

"Stiles."

He nuzzles your shoulder and bares teeth against your skin, so you press closer to keep him warm, he doesn't run as hot as you, you call him "that annoying human" to make him scowl, his scowls make you smile.

He smiles now, licking his lips when you tug on his hair and a hand slides around your neck. He likes to bite you there.

"Derek, you let me sleep in blood."

"It happens."

He kisses you and the wind rises, a sound like claws at the window, but you ignore it.

You kiss him and put hands on him, the wolf in your bed.