Fic: Occam's Razor (4/?)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
“Come on, you stupid piece of shit,” Stiles growled at his laptop perched on the bed, hunched over in the chair he’d dragged over from the corner.
“Problem?” his dad asked as he poked his head in Stiles’ room.
“Ugh, yes. I can’t log into my laptop because I don’t know the freaking password. I’ve tried all my usuals, and nothing works.” Stiles looked at the bed his laptop was sitting on, then sat up, “And this fugly bedspread. That’s my other immediate problem.”
John chuckled. “Blame Melissa McCall… she was cleaning out some rooms and her storage unit and asked if I wanted them.”
“And you said yes? This is a monstrosity.”
“It’s a guest room. It just needed linens, not style.”
“Well, you definitely didn’t get any,” Stiles said. “Hey! Can I borrow your laptop?”
“Sorry, son… I left it at the station. I didn’t know you’d need it.”
The universe utterly hated Stiles.
His father came into the room already dressed for bed. He hadn’t been surprised when he got home earlier with the ice cream and Derek was gone. And he hadn’t said anything about it, either.
Stiles knew his luck wouldn’t hold out.
“So… how did it go with Derek?”
“You mean that blatant attempt on your part to get us to talk?” Stiles grunted and turned back to his computer. “He sniffed me,” Stiles muttered distractedly as he tried yet another incorrect password. At the strange noise his father made, he looked over and saw the sheriff stifling a snicker. “And that doesn’t surprise you, does it?”
“No. He does it a lot.”
“Wonderful,” Stiles drawled sarcastically. ‘the password you have entered is incorrect’
“Do you… uh… I could ask him to stop.”
“No,” Stiles sighed, “it’s actually not… I don’t mind.”
That got a hopeful look on his father’s face. Like maybe Stiles didn’t mind because some of his memories were coming back. No… it just wasn’t unpleasant generally speaking to have Derek Hale all up in his space.
Stiles tapped absently at his keyboard, then hit enter because a string of Ks was as good a guess as any at this point. No dice.
“He misses you, you know,” his father offered gently.
Stiles ruffled a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know.” Stiles gave up on his laptop and turned his full attention to his father. “What would you do if you were me?”
“Are you honestly asking for my advice?”
Stiles nodded.
John considered his answer a moment, then he went over to sit on the side of the bed facing Stiles. After a moment organizing his thoughts, John said, “I think you need to go home. I’m not saying that because I don’t enjoy having you here. You know I do. But I don’t think you’re going to get anywhere hiding from your marriage in your childhood bedroom.”
“But it’s not my marriage! It was some other Stiles who married Derek!”
“I don’t agree.”
Stiles opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
“Maybe you don’t remember the last seven years, but even still, I know my son. I know you. You’re not all that different from the way you remember yourself in high school. You have all the same qualities. All the same insecurities. And I know that being with Derek can make you happy. I just don’t want you to deny yourself the chance to figure that out.”
Stiles crossed his arms and slouched back in the chair. “I can’t make myself love him.”
“I know… but I really don’t think you’re going to have to. Let’s say, worse comes to worse, and you don’t get back your memories. Then you fall in love with him again.”
“You don’t know that’s what would happen,” Stiles argued.
“No… but I’d bet money on it.”
His dad obviously wanted what he thought would make Stiles happy. Stiles just didn’t know if he could be that person. His father said just be around him again and it would happen. Easier said than done.
“Just think about it,” John said, reaching out to rest a hand on Stiles’ shoulder before he got up and left the room.
Stiles spent a good few minutes staring at his laptop login screen resentfully, then he grabbed his cell phone. That, at least, wasn’t locking him out.
He found his text message conversation log with Derek and scrolled up at random to start reading.
Stiles: around 8?
Derek: sure
Stiles: great! btw it’s black tie :)
Derek: nevermind
Stiles: no take-backs
Derek: i hate ties
Stiles: would you really back out of the charity auction because of a tie?
Stiles: kids with cancer are counting on you
Derek: you’re a horrible person
Stiles: you love me anyway
Derek: lucky for the kids
Stiles: want to grab something to eat before? you pick
Derek: is this to make up for making me wear a tie?
Stiles: maybe
Derek: then I’d rather you make it up to me after ;)
For the love of all that was holy, Derek used an emoticon. Stiles scrolled down a little further and picked up reading.
Derek: did you put eggs on the list?
Stiles: you can’t make requests for your b-day breakfast in bed surprise
Stiles: it’s supposed to be a surprise
Stiles: you suspect nothing
Derek: ok I suspect nothing
Derek: but did you get eggs?
Stiles: yes I got eggs
Derek: love you
Stiles: love you too
Stiles frowned uncomfortably, checking the current date on his phone and the date of the conversation. He hoped Derek’s birthday had already come and gone. He hated to think there were eggs sitting in the fridge Stiles meant to make for Derek’s birthday breakfast that he never got.
And, of course, the easily bandied L-word. That was uncomfortable to see, knowing that affection had been there but now it wasn’t and the only difference was Stiles.
Shaking it off, Stiles looked down at the last conversation he had via text message before things went screwy, mere hours before he woke up with a husband he hadn’t had when he went to sleep the night before.
Derek: is it okay if mrs. m brings that stuff over next friday?
Stiles: that’s fine
Stiles: remind me to get her some flowers for giving us her old stuff :)
“Oh, hell no,” Stiles said under his breath, then brought up the text window and typed:
Stiles: we better not be getting any blankets from scott’s mom, because this thing my dad got from her should be burned
Before he could think about it, he hit send.
A few seconds later, Derek texted back.
Derek: it’s not blankets. just furniture for the office
A pause, then a second text:
Derek: we got our coffee table from her
Stiles thought back to the house and the coffee table in the living room. That wasn’t so bad. So Mrs. McCall had shitty taste in bed covers, but her choice of furniture wasn’t so bad.
Derek: but if you don’t like it we can still burn it
Stiles laughed, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth at the sound. He thought about what his dad had said, about trying, and let his thumbs hover over the qwerty board before he texted:
Stiles: want to do dinner tomorrow? without my dad?
Stiles debated sending it a full minute before he clicked the button.
Derek’s response was immediate.
Derek: yes
Stiles swallowed nervously.
Stiles: cool. pick me up after you get off work?
God, it felt like they were dating, which was ridiculous. They were married. But it was what Stiles could manage at the time.
Derek: ok see you then
Stiles: see you
That done, Stiles switched over to his contacts, found Scott, and pressed the green phone icon.
It rang twice before Scott answered. “Hey, Stiles!”
“Scott! Buddy! Boy, is it good to hear your voice,” Stiles sagged back in the chair, relief washing over him.
“What do you mean? We talked on Saturday. Rene, honey, don’t play with that.” A muffled sound of a small girl’s voice arguing. “I know it’s pretty, but Mommy will flick a tail if you break it.” Then he came back to the phone. “Sorry… the munchkin’s into everything today.”
“That’s fine.”
“Re, you want to say hi to Uncle Stiles?”
“Um, actually…” Stiles started, but suddenly there was a bubbly child’s voice coming through loud and clear.
“Hi, Uncle Stiles!”
“Heeeey… sweetie? Umm… how are you?”
“We went to the park today and I got to fly a kite!”
“You did? That sounds fun.” Stiles was breaking into a flop sweat. Holy shit, he was talking to Scott’s kid.
“It had a princess on it. And Daddy tripped on a spinkler.”
“Sprinkler, baby,” Scott corrected. “And Uncle Stiles doesn’t need to hear about that.”
“Yes, he does! It was funny!”
Stiles chuckled. He had a feeling he was going to like Scott’s daughter.
“When you come visit, will you fly kites with me, Uncle Stiles?”
“Oh, uh… yeah… you bet.” He scrambled to remember the pet-name Scott had used. “Re.”
“And Uncle Derek!”
“I’m… I’m sure Uncle Derek would love to fly kites with you.”
“Okay, bye!”
Stiles’ head was still spinning when Scott came back on the phone. “Sorry about that. She’s a pistol. So what’s going on?”
Stiles sucked in a breath and wondered how exactly to tactfully go about…
“I woke up yesterday with no memory of the last seven years.”
Or he could just do it like that.
There was a thick silence over the phone. Then Scott asked incredulously, “You what?”
“I woke up yesterday morning in a strange house - my house - and do not know how I got there. Last thing I remember was cramming for Mrs. Sheridan’s chemistry final, then I was waking up in bed with Derek.”
“What the fuck, dude?”
“I know!”
“Did you go to the doctor?”
“Yes, but not for that. I had to get stitches because I fell on the nightstand and broke my fall with my face.”
“So, wait, you… Kira! Kira, get over here. Something’s wrong with Stiles. He’s got amnesia. Yes, I’m serious! Come here.”
There was a change in the call quality when Scott switched to speaker.
“Stiles?” Kira asked, “What’s Scott going on about?”
“I woke up yesterday morning with no memory of the last seven years.”
Dead silence.
“Are you joking?” Kira asked.
“No, I’m not joking! I am the polar opposite of joking. I have a husband I don’t remember marrying and a house I don’t remember moving into and just no, I am all kinds of not joking right now.”
That clearly took a few seconds to sink in.
“Have you been to a specialist?” Kira asked.
“No… they wanted to do an MRI, but I wouldn’t let them.”
“What? Why the hell not?” Scott asked.
“Because nogitsune, dumbass,” Stiles ground out between clenched teeth.
“Stiles, you…” Scott faltered, voice low and careful. “That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, maybe if you can remember the last seven years it was, but it wasn’t a long time ago to me. For me, it just happened.” Stiles took a deep breath to calm himself. “Do either of you know of anything that could have dropped me into an alternate universe? A spell or a curse or… a wormhole monster or something?”
The silence on the other end was not encouraging.
“Have you asked Lydia?”
“Derek said he would talk to her.”
“Is Derek there?” Scott asked.
“No, I’m staying at my dad’s house.”
Another heavy pause.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Did I mention the part that in my reality I’m seventeen and don’t have a husband?”
“Holy crap, you really aren’t kidding,” Scott muttered.
“I told you I wasn’t.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his eyes.
“But you’re not… I mean, are you seventeen-year-old you?”
“No, I’m… I’m however old your Stiles is. Which I guess would be twenty-four. But I don’t remember getting here.”
“That is messed up,” Scott mused.
“Believe me, I am so painfully well aware,” Stiles countered.
“I’ll… I’ll ask my mom, see if she knows anything,” Kira broke in.
“Thanks, Kira.”
“Man, I wish Deaton was still alive,” Scott said under his breath. “Oh, crap, did you…”
“Yeah, I know about Deaton. Derek told me earlier about a harpy. He got kind of cagey about it, to be honest.”
“You were really hurt,” Scott said diplomatically, “it freaked him out.”
It was still hard to imagine Derek caring that much about him. Enough to pull his ass out of a fire, sure… but to lose his shit because Stiles was hurt? No… that pasta was not sticking to the fridge.
“We’ll both look into what could have caused this,” Scott promised. “Don’t worry, okay, Stiles? We’ll take care of it.”
Just hearing that made Stiles feel better. He’d talked to Scott and Kira, Derek was going to talk to Lydia. His friends were on the job. His pack had his back. If they could free him from the fucking nogitsune, they could fix this.
“Thank you.”
“Absolutely. Look out for yourself, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Goodnight.”
Next
“Come on, you stupid piece of shit,” Stiles growled at his laptop perched on the bed, hunched over in the chair he’d dragged over from the corner.
“Problem?” his dad asked as he poked his head in Stiles’ room.
“Ugh, yes. I can’t log into my laptop because I don’t know the freaking password. I’ve tried all my usuals, and nothing works.” Stiles looked at the bed his laptop was sitting on, then sat up, “And this fugly bedspread. That’s my other immediate problem.”
John chuckled. “Blame Melissa McCall… she was cleaning out some rooms and her storage unit and asked if I wanted them.”
“And you said yes? This is a monstrosity.”
“It’s a guest room. It just needed linens, not style.”
“Well, you definitely didn’t get any,” Stiles said. “Hey! Can I borrow your laptop?”
“Sorry, son… I left it at the station. I didn’t know you’d need it.”
The universe utterly hated Stiles.
His father came into the room already dressed for bed. He hadn’t been surprised when he got home earlier with the ice cream and Derek was gone. And he hadn’t said anything about it, either.
Stiles knew his luck wouldn’t hold out.
“So… how did it go with Derek?”
“You mean that blatant attempt on your part to get us to talk?” Stiles grunted and turned back to his computer. “He sniffed me,” Stiles muttered distractedly as he tried yet another incorrect password. At the strange noise his father made, he looked over and saw the sheriff stifling a snicker. “And that doesn’t surprise you, does it?”
“No. He does it a lot.”
“Wonderful,” Stiles drawled sarcastically. ‘the password you have entered is incorrect’
“Do you… uh… I could ask him to stop.”
“No,” Stiles sighed, “it’s actually not… I don’t mind.”
That got a hopeful look on his father’s face. Like maybe Stiles didn’t mind because some of his memories were coming back. No… it just wasn’t unpleasant generally speaking to have Derek Hale all up in his space.
Stiles tapped absently at his keyboard, then hit enter because a string of Ks was as good a guess as any at this point. No dice.
“He misses you, you know,” his father offered gently.
Stiles ruffled a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know.” Stiles gave up on his laptop and turned his full attention to his father. “What would you do if you were me?”
“Are you honestly asking for my advice?”
Stiles nodded.
John considered his answer a moment, then he went over to sit on the side of the bed facing Stiles. After a moment organizing his thoughts, John said, “I think you need to go home. I’m not saying that because I don’t enjoy having you here. You know I do. But I don’t think you’re going to get anywhere hiding from your marriage in your childhood bedroom.”
“But it’s not my marriage! It was some other Stiles who married Derek!”
“I don’t agree.”
Stiles opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
“Maybe you don’t remember the last seven years, but even still, I know my son. I know you. You’re not all that different from the way you remember yourself in high school. You have all the same qualities. All the same insecurities. And I know that being with Derek can make you happy. I just don’t want you to deny yourself the chance to figure that out.”
Stiles crossed his arms and slouched back in the chair. “I can’t make myself love him.”
“I know… but I really don’t think you’re going to have to. Let’s say, worse comes to worse, and you don’t get back your memories. Then you fall in love with him again.”
“You don’t know that’s what would happen,” Stiles argued.
“No… but I’d bet money on it.”
His dad obviously wanted what he thought would make Stiles happy. Stiles just didn’t know if he could be that person. His father said just be around him again and it would happen. Easier said than done.
“Just think about it,” John said, reaching out to rest a hand on Stiles’ shoulder before he got up and left the room.
Stiles spent a good few minutes staring at his laptop login screen resentfully, then he grabbed his cell phone. That, at least, wasn’t locking him out.
He found his text message conversation log with Derek and scrolled up at random to start reading.
Stiles: around 8?
Derek: sure
Stiles: great! btw it’s black tie :)
Derek: nevermind
Stiles: no take-backs
Derek: i hate ties
Stiles: would you really back out of the charity auction because of a tie?
Stiles: kids with cancer are counting on you
Derek: you’re a horrible person
Stiles: you love me anyway
Derek: lucky for the kids
Stiles: want to grab something to eat before? you pick
Derek: is this to make up for making me wear a tie?
Stiles: maybe
Derek: then I’d rather you make it up to me after ;)
For the love of all that was holy, Derek used an emoticon. Stiles scrolled down a little further and picked up reading.
Derek: did you put eggs on the list?
Stiles: you can’t make requests for your b-day breakfast in bed surprise
Stiles: it’s supposed to be a surprise
Stiles: you suspect nothing
Derek: ok I suspect nothing
Derek: but did you get eggs?
Stiles: yes I got eggs
Derek: love you
Stiles: love you too
Stiles frowned uncomfortably, checking the current date on his phone and the date of the conversation. He hoped Derek’s birthday had already come and gone. He hated to think there were eggs sitting in the fridge Stiles meant to make for Derek’s birthday breakfast that he never got.
And, of course, the easily bandied L-word. That was uncomfortable to see, knowing that affection had been there but now it wasn’t and the only difference was Stiles.
Shaking it off, Stiles looked down at the last conversation he had via text message before things went screwy, mere hours before he woke up with a husband he hadn’t had when he went to sleep the night before.
Derek: is it okay if mrs. m brings that stuff over next friday?
Stiles: that’s fine
Stiles: remind me to get her some flowers for giving us her old stuff :)
“Oh, hell no,” Stiles said under his breath, then brought up the text window and typed:
Stiles: we better not be getting any blankets from scott’s mom, because this thing my dad got from her should be burned
Before he could think about it, he hit send.
A few seconds later, Derek texted back.
Derek: it’s not blankets. just furniture for the office
A pause, then a second text:
Derek: we got our coffee table from her
Stiles thought back to the house and the coffee table in the living room. That wasn’t so bad. So Mrs. McCall had shitty taste in bed covers, but her choice of furniture wasn’t so bad.
Derek: but if you don’t like it we can still burn it
Stiles laughed, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth at the sound. He thought about what his dad had said, about trying, and let his thumbs hover over the qwerty board before he texted:
Stiles: want to do dinner tomorrow? without my dad?
Stiles debated sending it a full minute before he clicked the button.
Derek’s response was immediate.
Derek: yes
Stiles swallowed nervously.
Stiles: cool. pick me up after you get off work?
God, it felt like they were dating, which was ridiculous. They were married. But it was what Stiles could manage at the time.
Derek: ok see you then
Stiles: see you
That done, Stiles switched over to his contacts, found Scott, and pressed the green phone icon.
It rang twice before Scott answered. “Hey, Stiles!”
“Scott! Buddy! Boy, is it good to hear your voice,” Stiles sagged back in the chair, relief washing over him.
“What do you mean? We talked on Saturday. Rene, honey, don’t play with that.” A muffled sound of a small girl’s voice arguing. “I know it’s pretty, but Mommy will flick a tail if you break it.” Then he came back to the phone. “Sorry… the munchkin’s into everything today.”
“That’s fine.”
“Re, you want to say hi to Uncle Stiles?”
“Um, actually…” Stiles started, but suddenly there was a bubbly child’s voice coming through loud and clear.
“Hi, Uncle Stiles!”
“Heeeey… sweetie? Umm… how are you?”
“We went to the park today and I got to fly a kite!”
“You did? That sounds fun.” Stiles was breaking into a flop sweat. Holy shit, he was talking to Scott’s kid.
“It had a princess on it. And Daddy tripped on a spinkler.”
“Sprinkler, baby,” Scott corrected. “And Uncle Stiles doesn’t need to hear about that.”
“Yes, he does! It was funny!”
Stiles chuckled. He had a feeling he was going to like Scott’s daughter.
“When you come visit, will you fly kites with me, Uncle Stiles?”
“Oh, uh… yeah… you bet.” He scrambled to remember the pet-name Scott had used. “Re.”
“And Uncle Derek!”
“I’m… I’m sure Uncle Derek would love to fly kites with you.”
“Okay, bye!”
Stiles’ head was still spinning when Scott came back on the phone. “Sorry about that. She’s a pistol. So what’s going on?”
Stiles sucked in a breath and wondered how exactly to tactfully go about…
“I woke up yesterday with no memory of the last seven years.”
Or he could just do it like that.
There was a thick silence over the phone. Then Scott asked incredulously, “You what?”
“I woke up yesterday morning in a strange house - my house - and do not know how I got there. Last thing I remember was cramming for Mrs. Sheridan’s chemistry final, then I was waking up in bed with Derek.”
“What the fuck, dude?”
“I know!”
“Did you go to the doctor?”
“Yes, but not for that. I had to get stitches because I fell on the nightstand and broke my fall with my face.”
“So, wait, you… Kira! Kira, get over here. Something’s wrong with Stiles. He’s got amnesia. Yes, I’m serious! Come here.”
There was a change in the call quality when Scott switched to speaker.
“Stiles?” Kira asked, “What’s Scott going on about?”
“I woke up yesterday morning with no memory of the last seven years.”
Dead silence.
“Are you joking?” Kira asked.
“No, I’m not joking! I am the polar opposite of joking. I have a husband I don’t remember marrying and a house I don’t remember moving into and just no, I am all kinds of not joking right now.”
That clearly took a few seconds to sink in.
“Have you been to a specialist?” Kira asked.
“No… they wanted to do an MRI, but I wouldn’t let them.”
“What? Why the hell not?” Scott asked.
“Because nogitsune, dumbass,” Stiles ground out between clenched teeth.
“Stiles, you…” Scott faltered, voice low and careful. “That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, maybe if you can remember the last seven years it was, but it wasn’t a long time ago to me. For me, it just happened.” Stiles took a deep breath to calm himself. “Do either of you know of anything that could have dropped me into an alternate universe? A spell or a curse or… a wormhole monster or something?”
The silence on the other end was not encouraging.
“Have you asked Lydia?”
“Derek said he would talk to her.”
“Is Derek there?” Scott asked.
“No, I’m staying at my dad’s house.”
Another heavy pause.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Did I mention the part that in my reality I’m seventeen and don’t have a husband?”
“Holy crap, you really aren’t kidding,” Scott muttered.
“I told you I wasn’t.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his eyes.
“But you’re not… I mean, are you seventeen-year-old you?”
“No, I’m… I’m however old your Stiles is. Which I guess would be twenty-four. But I don’t remember getting here.”
“That is messed up,” Scott mused.
“Believe me, I am so painfully well aware,” Stiles countered.
“I’ll… I’ll ask my mom, see if she knows anything,” Kira broke in.
“Thanks, Kira.”
“Man, I wish Deaton was still alive,” Scott said under his breath. “Oh, crap, did you…”
“Yeah, I know about Deaton. Derek told me earlier about a harpy. He got kind of cagey about it, to be honest.”
“You were really hurt,” Scott said diplomatically, “it freaked him out.”
It was still hard to imagine Derek caring that much about him. Enough to pull his ass out of a fire, sure… but to lose his shit because Stiles was hurt? No… that pasta was not sticking to the fridge.
“We’ll both look into what could have caused this,” Scott promised. “Don’t worry, okay, Stiles? We’ll take care of it.”
Just hearing that made Stiles feel better. He’d talked to Scott and Kira, Derek was going to talk to Lydia. His friends were on the job. His pack had his back. If they could free him from the fucking nogitsune, they could fix this.
“Thank you.”
“Absolutely. Look out for yourself, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Goodnight.”
Next