Written in response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: « Take a Chance on Me. » This text is a Teen Wolf fanfiction for the pairing Sterek.
They’ve been trapped for hours now, though neither of them can say how many hours exactly, with no phone or sunlight to estimate the time.
Long enough for Stiles to keep them both awake by singing the entire repertoire of Elvis, Muse and yes, One Direction, though Stiles will deny that until his dying breath.
Long enough for Derek to notice that the wound on his side isn’t healing from the wolfsbane bullet the hunter shot him with, long enough to feel the blood soaking his shirt and damping the ground beneath him and acknowledge that his chances of surviving are lowering by the minute.
“Abba now? Really Stiles?” Derek says, too exhausted to even try sounding snarky.
Stiles turns his head to gaze at Derek, then looks sheepishly at his hands.
“My mom loved them,” his voice is low and Derek has to concentrate to hear him, “she had all their records. My dad still has that picture of her dressed as one of the girls, for like, Halloween or a costume party, I don’t know. I remember how happy she looked when she sang.”
Derek smiles at the memory, both sad and sweet. Sad that she’s not around anymore for Stiles, sweet because it’s part of who Stiles is, of what made him, the same way Derek remembering his dad teaching him how to ride a bike will stick with him till the end.
Stiles resumes singing “Take a chance on me” and Derek closes his eyes, lets the melody lull him to his last sleep. He lets go of the memories of all the chances he ruined, of all the chances he never took, like this beautiful human being sitting beside him, trying to keep him warm and awake as they wait for the rescue, the kid whose mouth he should have kissed a million times, instead of chickening out every one of them.
Derek’s last thoughts are filled with his first bike and his last regret, and the scent of Stiles surrounds him as everything goes dark.