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Stiles is 99% sure this is an awful idea, but Derek is insistent. Stiles is very much on the it's-Derek's-body-it's-Derek's-choice train, especially after all the times it's been used without his permission, so he'll do what Derek's asked.
It's the alpha's fault. And the djinn's. And the darach's, and Kate's. There's a lot of blame to go around.
Kate, who'd dragged Derek down to Mexico and done god knows what kind of magical bullshit to regress him to a teenager with no memories of the past few years.
The darach, who'd made Derek's mind fuzzy and compliant with more bullshit magic.
The djinn, who'd had Derek for three days before the pack found him, feeding him all kinds of illusions, making him believe his family was still alive, that Derek was happy and living with them. That Laura had just had her first baby and Cora was graduating college. It nearly crushed Stiles when they'd freed Derek and he'd looked around at them all helplessly, the realization and grief crossing his face before he'd schooled it into a hard mask and had ripped the djinn apart.
It had taken Derek a long time after that to stop questioning if this reality is real, or if he were still trapped in a djinn illusion. And after the nogitsune, well, Stiles could relate. They've spent a lot of sleepless nights together in the last few months, trading stories about how they know if what they're experiencing is real. Stiles counts his fingers, makes sure he can read. Derek can tell through pain (which makes Stiles absolutely forbid him from hurting himself to find out, though they both know that Stiles has no ability to stop Derek doing anything) and that while the djinn had gotten plenty of details right, the taste of food was always off.
Right when they'd started making progress, when Derek had stopped digging his claws into his leg just to make sure this is real, that's when the alpha came. He'd wanted to come and talk with Scott. A packless alpha doesn't last long, after all. Derek and Chris had both advised against it. Stiles had strongly advised against it. But Scott, always wanting to see the best in people, had allowed the other alpha into his territory.
Stiles is a little fuzzy on the details, but the alpha had a grudge against Talia Hale and had somehow gotten Derek alone. Stiles and Scott had walked in just in time to see him withdraw his claws from the back of Derek's neck.
Stiles might have gone a little nuts at that point. Possibly. Okay very. He'd lashed out with his spark and bodily thrown the alpha across the loft and into one of the brick walls with a sickening crack. He'd let Scott deal with the alpha, choosing to run to Derek's side instead.
"Derek!" Stiles had slid to his knees next to where Derek was collapsed on the floor. "Come on, big guy, I need you to talk to me."
The words out of Derek's mouth had crushed Stiles.
"Who are you?"
Derek remembered bits and pieces. He remembered that Peter killed Laura, that the alpha pack had killed Boyd and Erica, but he didn't remember finding Cora. He didn't remember Scott. He didn't remember Stiles.
It had taken a lot of convincing and a Skype call to Cora in South America for Derek to finally believe them. He could tell he was missing memories, that there were blank spaces where people and events should have been, and what they'd said added up.
According to Peter and Deaton, neither of whom Stiles trusted at fucking all, there was a way to get those memories back. Someone would have to shove the alpha's claws onto their own fingers and stick them in Derek's neck to restore the memories. None of them had liked the idea, but in the absence of any other plan, they'd done it.
Stiles had been the one to pull out the alpha's claws. The man had been bound with wolfsbane-infused rope and forced into the beta shift by Stiles' magic. Stiles had happily taken pliers to the alpha's claws, ripping them out one by one, the man howling in pain the entire time.
"Don't be a baby, they'll grow back," Stiles had said. "Well, they will if I let you live."
Scott had side eyed Stiles at that, but smartly hadn't said anything
"I have to ask," Derek had said when he and Stiles were alone, before Scott restored his memories. "Are we...together?"
"What?" Stiles had squeaked out. "Uh, no, we aren't. Why do you - uh, no. Why?"
"Oh," Derek had said, a small frown on his face. "It's just...you smell like you're mine."
Stiles had blushed brilliantly at that and had been eternally grateful that Scott wasn't in the room.
"Well, I'm not. You don't see me that way," Stiles had said. "We're friends. Good friends, but friends."
"That's stupid of me then," Derek had said.
Stiles hadn't known what to say to that and was a few seconds from humiliating himself by blurting out his ridiculous crush, but Scott saved him, coming in with the cleaned claws.
Stiles had been the only other person in the room when Scott had forced the claws onto his own fingers and placed them at Derek's neck. It had taken a while, long enough that Stiles had been starting to get anxious, but finally Derek and Scott had opened their eyes with a gasp.
"Did it work?" Stiles had asked. "Do you remember everything?"
Derek, way too pale, had nodded mutely.
"Do you need anything, dude?' Stiles had asked apprehensively. Being back to non-verbal Derek was never a good sign.
"I need to be alone," Derek had said.
"Okay, yeah, we can totally do that," Stiles had said. "Just, call if you need anything, okay?"
Derek had nodded again, not making eye contact with either Stiles or Scott.
That had been a week and a half ago. No one had heard from Derek since then other than Cora, who Stiles had Skyped just to make sure she'd talked to Derek. Stiles had been trying to respect Derek's wishes, giving him the space he needed. Then, tonight, he'd shown up at Stiles' window with an old spell book from the Hale vault, asking for Stiles' help.
"I mean, the spell looks easy enough," Stiles says, looking over the book Derek had handed him. "Well, not, you know, easy, but doable."
"Good," Derek says. "Will you do it?"
"How'd you even find this?" Stiles asks.
"I do read, Stiles," Derek says. "I remember reading it when I was younger, I just couldn't remember the right book."
"A spell to protect the mind from outside influences," Stiles mutters as he reads the instructions. It's a rhetorical question, but Derek nods anyway.
"Four times is too many. I'm tired of not knowing who I am or who you are," Derek says.
"Your whole thing is not wanting people messing with your mind," Stiles says. "Isn't asking me to do this messing with your mind?"
"That's why I'm asking you to do it instead of Deaton," Derek says.
"Aren't you worried I'll fuck it up or, I don't know, mess with you more?" Stiles asks.
"No," Derek says. "Because I trust you."
"Oh..." Stiles says softly.
"Yeah," Derek says. They're both quiet for a moment, then Derek says, "I meant it, you know. When I said you smelled like you were mine."
"I'm...sorry?" Stiles says, though he's not sure why he's apologizing.
"It's not - " Derek huffs. "It's not something to apologize for. I just wanted to tell you that, and that you're wrong."
"About?" Stiles asks.
"You said I don't think of you that way. You're wrong," Derek says.
"Oh..." Stiles says. He knows Derek can hear his heart beating in overdrive, but he can't seem to calm down. "Is - is that something you want to do something about?"
"Do you?" Derek asks.
"Oh come on, dude, that's not fair. I asked you first!" Stiles says.
Derek's lips quirk in a brief almost-smile at that.
"It is," Derek says. "If that's something you want."
Stiles can't help the full on grin that spreads across his face.
"Yeah, yeah I want," Stiles says.
Derek's face is just beautiful when he smiles. He reaches out and gently takes Stiles' hand in his own, thumb rubbing over the soft skin.
"After this, can I take you to dinner?" Derek asks.
"I'm not gonna lie, the spell is probably gonna wipe me out for a bit," Stiles admits, as much as he'd love to go out tonight. "Chill here tonight, dinner tomorrow?"
"I can do that," Derek says, giving Stiles' hand a squeeze before letting go. Stiles tries not to be flustered by such a simple touch, but it's Derek and it's hard.
"All right, let's get this magical brain force field up!" Stiles says brightly.
Derek rolls his eyes but Stiles sees the fondness there.
"You know that's not what is it," Derek says.
"Close enough," Stiles says.
Stiles has Derek lie down on his bed, shirt off and wow, that's distracting. He draws runes, one over Derek's heart, one on his forehead, in his blood. Derek looks deeply apologetic at that, but Stiles had known he'd need to use his super fancy spark blood to make it work when he'd agreed, and he figures a cut on his arm is a small price to pay for Derek's safety and peace of mind.
The spell isn't overly complicated, especially not for someone with the untapped magical potential that Stiles has. The hardest part is focusing it. So much of what Stiles can do is based on his will, as opposed to druids who rely on rituals to gain power. So it isn't really difficult to pour all of that into what he's doing, into his will for Derek to be safe, to be secure. Focusing on the spell is what's difficult, instead of thinking of all the ways he wants Derek safe. His spark is amazing, but it can't keep Derek safe from everything, can't put him in a life-proof plastic bubble, and he has a hard time remembering that, on focusing on protecting Derek's mind only.
Usually when Stiles is performing magic, he's worried. He's worried he's doing it wrong, he's worried he's going to hurt someone, he's just worried. He doesn't have that now. There's no room for it. He can't be worried because he's doing this for Derek and that's all that matters to him. If he doubts himself, if he questions this will work...well, that's unacceptable. He knows he'll do this right because it's Derek and Stiles refuses to be another thing that fails him.
Stiles can feel the second the spell snaps into place, like a rubber band. For a split second before the magic fades, Stiles can see the golden aura surrounding Derek now. Sure Stiles had joked about it being a magical force field, but in all honesty that's really what it looks like.
Stiles staggers as the force of his magic fades, like all his muscles have turned to jello. Derek's immediately on his feet, helping Stiles to sit on the bed. He frowns at how Stiles is shaking, and the feel of his icy skin.
"You're freezing," Derek says.
"Yeah, that happens sometimes," Stiles says.
"What do you mean?" Derek asks.
"I mean, magic is basically energy, right? When I do something big, that uses a whole lot of energy from the body. It makes me cold for a bit," Stiles says with a shrug.
"Why haven't you ever said something?" Derek asks. "You use your magic for us a lot, why didn't you ever say it does that to you?"
"Gotta be useful," Stiles says. He aims for a joking tone, but judging by the look on Derek's face, it falls flat.
Derek's mouth is pressed in a thin line, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he pushes Stiles down onto the bed and pulls the blanket from the mess of covers, wrapping it around him, making sure all of him is covered, even his bare feet. Stiles thinks it's adorable. When Derek's done, he stands awkwardly at the side of the bed, looking like he wants to sit back down, but doesn't know if he should. Stiles worms his arm out from the blanket burrito and uses it to flap at Derek, beckoning him closer.
"C'mere," Stiles whines.
Derek smiles slightly and sits, then lies down when Stiles tugs him closer. Stiles cuddles up to Derek's side, completely shamelessly, and rests his head on his chest. As soon as Derek knows he's allowed to touch, he wraps his arms around Stiles, running a hand through his soft hair and one up and down his arm, encouraging it to warm up.
"It worked, by the way," Stiles says. "The spell."
"I know," Derek says.
"How?" Stiles asks.
"Because you're the one that did it," Derek says.
And really, Stiles had thought he'd grown out of the whole blushing thing, but it's apparently something reserved just for Derek now.
"Oh," Stiles says.
"Yeah, oh," Derek says.
It takes a while, but Stiles slowly starts to warm up. Derek's supernaturally hot (in more ways than one, haaa, Stiles thinks he's funny) body helps the process along by leaps and bounds. The warmer Stiles gets, the sleepier he becomes, until he's all but dozing on Derek.
"I kinda like you," Stiles slurs, on the edge of sleep.
He feels Derek's chest rumble beneath him as he chuckles and says, "I kind of like you, too."
"That's good," Stiles says. It's only a few more moments until exhaustion hits him and he falls asleep cradled against Derek.
Derek starts keeping a warm blanket in the back of his car for when Stiles overexerts his magic and gets cold.