This is my first time writing anything for teen wolf so please don't hate me!
i was searching tumblr a while ago and came across a post (i think it was sterek) and there was a comment saying
'everybody's always talking about werewolves being able to hear lies, but i want to talk about werewolves being able to hear love notes in the beating of a heart'
and thought it was beautiful, so here is my attempt from that :)
Derek could hear the stutter of a lie, he could smell the sweat drip down a nape of a neck, he could see the twitch of hands and tap of feet, he could almost feel the leap of a heartbeat when a lie escaped lips, but he could also hear love notes in the beating of a heart, and he lived for every drum.
He can remember when he was little, and his mother would lay her head on his fathers chest, and her hand would rest on his stomach and tap beats while a peaceful expression filled her features. She would smile when she'd catch him watching and he can remember, once while she was tucking him into bed and he'd asked her what she did.
"What song do you tap on dad's tummy?" Her eyes had been so soft, and she'd kissed him on the forehead, he'd felt her breath fan his hair as she'd spoken. "The most beautiful notes of love."
Derek had crumpled his face, and pursed his lips, and she had just laughed softly and kissed him again, and just before she had closed the door to his room, she'd told him, "You'll figure it out someday." and her smile had been sad and watery.
Derek can remember listening to Kate's heartbeat while she slept. He can remember resting his head on her breast, and slowing his breathing to match hers, resting his fingers on her stomach and waiting for the peace that seemed to fill his mother, to fill him, but it hadn't. He'd felt lust, and what he had believed was love, and he'd even tapped his fingers to her heartbeat, but he could never hear 'beautiful notes of love'. She'd caught him once, and laughed when he'd told her what he was doing, but she hadn't explained why it had been funny and he hadn't asked, and now he understood why.
There had been no love.
He can remember being curled around Laura, after the fire and when it was only them left, and listening to her heartbeat. He'd drummed his fingers on her arm, while her free hand carded through his hair. He can remember every hitch of her breath, and stutter of her heart, he can remember holding her when the full moon took, even as he changed himself, he can remember soft red glowing eyes, and dark brown fur, and he can remember tapping his fingers to her heartbeat and feeling the most peaceful he had since the fire, and even as sleep took him, Derek knew that this was not what his mother had meant.
Derek remembers when Laura had died, and how he'd laid in his old ash covered bed in their old home, and tried to remember her heartbeat, and his mothers and their smiling faces, and how he'd tried to slow his heartbeat to match the memories of there's, for it to only last a minute at most, before he'd hear their dying cries and he'd have to leave the house. He remembers running through the woods and along the shadows of the streets. He remembers finding himself in the forest behind the Stinlinski house, and listening to the boy's heartbeat until it calmed him, and not knowing why, leaving as soon as dawn broke the skies.
Derek couldn't count the amount of times he's found himself on the roof near Stiles' bedroom, or in the forest around the back, on one hand anymore, nor could he count the times he'd been caught staring at Stiles at pack meetings, and the hesitant almost shy smiles (so unlike his usual loud and sure smiles and laughs) he'd get in return, but he can remember every stutter of a heartbeat and hitch of breath, and treasures them all from the moment he notices them.
He remembers the first time they had shared a bed, and how Stiles' head fit under his chin, how their legs slotted together, and the calm thump-a-thump of his heart against Derek's chest and palm (which lay on his back), he remembers the slow smile that had crept onto his face, and how he had tapped-tapped his fingers to the rhythm of his heart. He remembers feeling Stiles sleepy smile and moist breath on his neck as he spoke, where his shirt had shifted.
"Watcha' doing?" And Derek had opened his eyes, and stared at the ceiling remembering his mothers words from so long ago, 'You'll figure it out someday'.
"Your heartbeat," He remembers saying. "It's calm, peaceful. You're... happy, it sounds like..." It sounds like the most beautiful notes of love.
Stile's hadn't laughed like Kate had, hadn't mocked him, or turned away, only kissed his neck and let out a slow sleepy content sound, despite the hitch in his breath.
Derek remembers their first time together, the night of Stiles' 18th Birthday. He remembers every moan and cry, remembers how Stiles' brow had furrowed and his mouth had formed an 'o' when he came, and how he bared his neck and allowed Derek to mark him, how the wolf had whined in pleasure wantmatemine, and how Stiles didn't turn away, how his heart stayed free of fear when Derek's eyes turned red, his fangs elongated and his claws ripped the bed sheets.
Derek hates that he can remember the week Stiles went missing, hates that it happened, that he couldn't protect his mate. He remembers the slashes and bruises that had covered his body when they'd finally found him, found the pack that had taken him and ripped them apart. He hates that he can still trace some of the scars and remembers the fear that had filled Stiles when Derek had found the largest scar, the one that runs from behind his left ear and down through the middle of the mark Derek had given him, remembers how he'd flinched when it had been touched, remembers Stiles voice, quiet, and broken, so different from how it used to be.
"How can you stand to touch me?" And Derek's eye's had been red before he could think about it, crowing Stiles against the door.
"Because you're mine, always. I couldn't- I won't let anything hurt you again."
They both knew the last was a lie, couldn't make promises like that and keep them, no matter how hard they tried, but for then and still, it was enough and both their heartbeats had been in sync.
Derek's an expert at hearing lies. He can smell them with his eyes closed, and hear the stutter of a heartbeat. He can feel them, and every twitch that comes with them, can almost taste the sweat that beads in pores. He's taught his pack how to trace a lie, no matter how hidden, taught them to trace it with their eyes close, and only with sense of smell, or hearing.
He's waited and wished, and he can hear love notes in Stiles' heartbeats, like the most beautiful song. He wishes he could draw it, or record it, share it, yet keep it locked up for only them.
Their wedding bands clink together, where their hands are folded on Derek's chest and he can feel the inscription rubbing on his finger, and it matches the calm happiness in the room.
'The most beautiful notes of love'