Sterek One Shots: Book Two

i feel you in every heartbeat

And wow, arms. Maybe it was just the angle, but whomever's body Stiles was in was packing some serious muscles. And, oh, that was a very flat stomach under a very tight grey t-shirt.

Experimentally, Stiles lifted a (fucking giant) hand to his torso and, yeah. Abs. Lots of them. And thighs. And—he shifted a bit in his seat—testicle game strong. Stiles had won the fucking jackpot, he knew, and he hadn't even seen the guy's face yet. There was a mirror in the corner of the room, though, so he set out to change that fact.

The room he was in was pleasant, light and airy. It looked like a teenager's bedroom, except more tidy than any teenager would keep it. Probably where his soulmate slept before leaving to college, which he clearly had; only uninhabited rooms were kept this clean. He could see some sports trophies here and there. (Baseball and lacrosse, Stiles noted as Common Interest #1 on his mental checklist of Shit To Talk About With My Soulmate.) And shit, the bed was comfy. Stiles looked forward to defiling it in the hopefully near future. If, you know, his soulmate would ever forgive him for being such a dick and forgetting their birthday. Dammit.

It was more than odd to walk on legs not his own, but he got over it soon enough and made a beeline for the mirror, only to promptly get all the oxygen sucked out of his foreign lungs, and probably straight from his bloodstream and fucking brain because holy fucking shit fuck—

The person staring back at him in the mirror was Derek fucking Hale.

Derek, a friend of Boyd's up in Berkeley and therefore tentative acquaintance of Stiles. Derek, who was probably the single most gorgeous person to walk this earth, and Stiles had gone to high school with Lydia Martin and Danny Mahealani, for God's sake. Derek, who aside from his good looks was really fucking intelligent and had all the same opinions and tastes and passions as Stiles, except more because Derek was better at everything, including just being himself.

Derek, who hated Stiles' guts.

Stiles wanted to whine, to cry a bit at the circumstances, but was certain that Derek would find out if Stiles cried big fat girly tears in Derek's body, and probably skin Stiles' body in revenge. With Stiles back in it, of course.

And God, Derek was perfect. Men weren't supposed to be described as beautiful, according to society, but the description fit. And oh, what sweet torture it was, to know that Stiles' soulmate was this ethereal-looking being, but Stiles still didn't stand a chance.

Something had to have gone wrong, with either Stiles' birth or Derek's, because there was no way the universe had decided them as compatible partners. Derek would never go for someone like Stiles, couldn't even tolerate him whenever they were in a room together. Whenever they all gathered together—Stiles, Derek, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, and the occasional visiting Scott—Derek did everything he possibly could to stay on the far end of their group, the other side of where Stiles would be standing or sitting. Derek wouldn't even look at Stiles, that's how much he disliked him.

Stiles was still staring in horrified fascination at his own expression in Derek's chiseled face, when the bedroom door burst open. Stiles flailed, which really didn't work quite as well with Derek's arms, and spun around to face a tall woman with Derek's hair and eyes. She was just as heartbreakingly stunning, and Stiles mentally cursed his fate some more.

She grinned widely, wolfishly, and Stiles was kind of scared of her. "Hi! Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Laura, the sister of the person you're inside of," she said, holding out her hand for Stiles to shake. He took it after some awkward aiming—Derek's hands were significantly bigger than Stiles'—and said, "Hey, ah, there's been a mistake."

Laura abruptly stilled their hands, which had been swinging up and down wildly, and narrowed her eyes. "What, don't like what you see?"

He snorted, and then winced when Laura's hand tightened on his. She was surprisingly strong for someone shorter and skinnier than his borrowed body. "No, no, are you kidding me? Derek's gorgeous, I just—"