Chapter Text
Stiles was awake before 7:00 in the morning. Derek stirred, turned on his bedside lamp and reached out for his husband.
"What is it, Stiles?" Derek asked.
Stiles turned to Derek and kissed his lips tenderly. "I'm starting to wonder if I'm doing the right thing with this plan of mine."
"What?" Derek was suddenly wide awake, his big, green eyes popping in their sockets, "You are having second thoughts?"
"If I want to, Derek," said Stiles, "I can just stop now and not do anything that will either make matters worse or run the risk of either getting myself or the people I care about into trouble."
"Stiles - " Derek fixed his love with a piercing look, " - don't even think about it. I understand your concerns, but I have complete faith in you. Scott is right. If you press ahead as you have planned, there's no way you or your actions will be detected by any of the authorities around the world; you've camouflaged yourself too well. Besides - you've said it yourself. The people of this planet haven't gained anything simply by following the rules, rules which have been manipulated across the board to benefit people with way too much power that make drug dealers look like youth offenders, at the expense of both the world population and the environment. You cannot be afraid to risk turning into an outlaw; you'll come out of your endeavor as a hero."
"You're absolutely right, Derek," said Stiles, "I love you."
It was July 2018. Stiles Stillinsk and Derek Hale had just returned home from their blissful honeymoon in Paris. Stiles was about to begin his job as an interpreter of foreign language at San Francisco extension of US immigration. Derek was set to resume his teaching post at Stanford University, where Stiles had just completed his bachelor's studies in advanced mathematics and computer technology. And - Stiles was planning something nefarious.
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Four years earlier, Genim "Stiles" Stillinski had enrolled at Stanford University as a scholarship student. He had excelled at both accelerated mathematics and foreign language as a high school student in Sacramento. He might have graduated as much as 2 years ahead of his peers, only he did not want to be disconnected from his good friend Scott McCall. Scott and his girlfriend Lydia Martin had also enrolled in Stanford as English literature majors. Although their schedules only sporadically corresponded, Stiles spent much of his spare time during the autumn 2014 semester hanging out with Scott and Lydia. That changed when the following semester began.
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It was January 2015, and Stiles' original calculus professor, Ken Yukimura, was replaced with a newcomer previously employed at Aerospace, Professor Derek Hale. Upon taking a seat in class on the first day, Stiles wasn't sure what to expect. Professor Yukimura had a pointed, direct approach to teaching. Stiles had a knack for delivering one-liners which the professor was barely tolerant of. It was fortunately counterbalanced by the young man's innate ability to swiftly decipher equations. What would Professor Hale be like?
Stiles found that out at the moment Derek Hale materialized at the head of the class.
Stiles watched as a tall, well-built man only seven years older than himself entered the lecture room and took his place in front of the draw-and-erase board at the front. He caught his breath. To himself, he thought "How am I supposed to learn from this heart throb when I'm too caught up in how gorgeous he is?"
"Good morning," the professor began, "Ken Yukimura has brought me up to speed on the progress of everyone in this class. He has assumed my post at Aerospace, while I resume my earlier occupation as a teacher of advanced mathematics. It would seem as if all of you are very well advanced for undergraduates in this field - " his eyes rested briefly on Stiles " - without exception. I'm looking forward to observing your capabilities and hopefully helping you to reach beyond your own potential."
In that moment when their eyes had met, Stiles figured out two things: Derek was infatuated with him the same way he was with Derek, and he had done his homework on Stiles and his burgeoning intellect. "Patience," Stiles told himself, "you're here to learn. Allow the rest to take care of itself later." He imagined Derek was thinking the same thing - which he was.
The end of the semester approached with Stiles maintaining a 4.0 grade-point average. Not only was Derek astounded by Stiles' prowess at math and engineering, as well as his humorous personality, but so was Erica Reyes, the professor of Stiles' minor study focus of foreign language. At the conclusion of his finals, Stiles was to be spotted by both at a campus baseball game in which Scott was playing third base for the college team and responsible for scoring 4 of the Stanford team's six runs by the bottom of the fifth inning.
"Good afternoon, Stiles."
At the sound of both their voices, Stiles looked to his right and grinned brightly. "Hello Profs. Hale and Reyes."
"Stiles, the term is over for you; you may call us by name if you like," said Erica.
"If you say so, Erica," said Stiles sheepishly. He watched as they took the seats to his right, noticing Derek sat right beside him. Then as Erica passed out their refreshments, Derek turned to Stiles and said "Hot dog?"
"Wow, thanks Derek!" said Stiles, gladly taking the hot dog and soft drink from his teacher. Their fingers touched, and Stiles felt an electric current course through his body. He kept it to himself.
"Wouldn't have figured you for a sportsfan, Stiles," said Erica.
"Nah, not really," said Stiles, "but Scott's been my friend for my whole life. I know he has the potential to become the next Jose Canseco."
Just then, a batter for the visiting team hit the ball toward third base. Scott caught it deftly, resulting in an easy out and fired it right at first, resulting in a double play. The Stanford students and faculty cheered loudly. Scott had the visitors held at bay 6-2 by the top of the sixth. His next at-bat resulted in another 2 runs, and the visiting team was unable to catch up.
"Has he got it in mind to play for Oakland?" asked Derek.
"He does," said Stiles, "and he's been slugging it this way almost from the first time I watched him lace up a pair of cleats."
"I don't see how he won't get there," said Derek.
"He also has an uncanny knack for English literature," said Erica, "Boyd was telling me last night that he's never taught anyone that had already read the whole Charles Dickens bibliography until now."
"That's Scotty for you," said Stiles, "When we were reading the Tragedy of MacBeth as high school sophomores, our classmates were always asking him to break down the story for everyone to better understand."
"Boyd thinks that Scott will make a good English lit professor when he winds up ending his athletic career," said Erica.
"That would be great," Stiles and Derek replied in unison. Erica smiled knowingly at them.
During the following summer, Stiles could frequently be seen in Derek's campus office, the 2 of them exploring complex equations and figures. Scott and Lydia did not object, because they sensed not only that Stiles was eager to learn everything Derek had to share with him but also because they knew something deeper was developing between them. They knew their old friend could be destined for something great in the world and also wanted him to be happy. What they couldn' know for sure was how right they were.
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When the spring semester of 2016 wrapped up, Stiles had completed all of his credits in mathematics, engineering and computer tech. What remained during the second half of his degree were other mandatory courses and electives, as well as linguistics requirements. That meant additional courses with Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd (whom she had just married) and less time spent on the academic floor with Derek. As he and Scott were exiting the registrar's office that August with their schedules for the autumn term, Stiles felt a hand on his right shoulder.
Both 20-year-old boys spun around.
"Derek!" Stiles breathed in relief, "for a moment, I thought you might've been some weirdo supporters of Gerard Argent."
"Never in a million eons, Genim Stillinsk," said Derek, "I just wanted to ask you if you were interested in some lunch."
"Ooooooh," said Scott teasingly, "will the two of you take your lunch in a tree, Professor?"
Stiles blushed and grabbed his old buddy in a headlock. "Is that any way to talk to a teacher, Scotty?" he asked.
"I don't mind, Stiles," said Derek. "Scott's no longer my student either, so he's also free of the formalities."
"You guys have fun," said Scott, "I'm going to meet Lydia soon. We might see you later."
They all smiled at each other. Scott took off for their dormitory to drop off his and Stiles' schedules. Derek escorted Stiles to his black Camaro.
"So, you don't support Argent either?" asked Derek.
"No way," replied Stiles bitterly, "the guy will never be presidential material, even if he is on a direct line to the District of Columbia. Nobody supporting him can justify their support."
"I completely agree," said Derek, "and I don't look forward to what may happen if he gets in and has free reign."
At lunch, the discussion turned personal.
"Scott and I grew up in a humble section of Sacramento," said Stiles, "his mother Melissa was a nurse at the local hospital, but she is now an M. D. My father Noah is the county sheriff. They recently began dating. We think they might someday marry, but they're tight lipped on the subject."
"What happened to your mother, Stiles?" asked Derek with deep concern.
Stiles' throat tightened, and his eyes began to sting. Pulling himself together, he simply said, "She's gone, Derek."
"Wow," said Derek, "I'm sorry."
"She was employed by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and on assignment helping to deactivate the Algonquin Edge plant in Upstate New York. One day before the plant was to be officially shut down, there was a control malfunction which led to a containment explosion. She and 6 regular employees were caught in the blast. She hung on long enough for my dad and me to fly cross country and catch up to her in the hospital, and then we lost her."
"I read about that explosion," said Derek, "my sister told me about it. I'm so sorry you lost your mother in it." He reached across the table and grasped Stiles' hand.
"Thank you Derek," said Stiles. "Now, what about you?"
"I grew up in San Jose," said Derek, "my family was wealthy from the oil industry. We were given carte blanche by our parents to pursue any career choice we liked. My sister Laura chose to be a fashion designer located in New York, which is how I learned about the Algonquin Edge incident. Shortly after she left for New York - " Derek's voice constricted suddenly, and his eyes also filled with tears. " - I lost both of my parents."
"Oh my god!" Stiles exclaimed, "I cannot believe that!"
After a stunned silence during which Derek regained control of himself, Stiles plucked up the courage to ask Derek how it happened.
"It was ten years ago. They were both conducting an inspection of an offshore drilling rig. A bit was about to strike a reserve, when the motor driving it into the ocean floor suddenly exploded. Fire and fumes consumed 2 workers and both of my parents at the same time. It only took them 10 minutes to lose their lives. All anybody could do was shut the rig down and transport the four bodies back to their families."
"What happened to you after that?" asked Stiles, "You were still a dependent."
"My uncle Peter grudgingly came to my house and took care of me during my last year of high school," said Derek, "I knew he didn't like it, so I tried my best to stay out of his way until I graduated. I was so thrilled to get a scholarship to Stanford and aim toward becoming a professor of math. Everybody I knew was in my corner, and it meant the world to me. I wish to honor my parents, even though I have no intention of being employed in the fossil fuel industry."
"Just as I have zero intention of being employed in the nuclear industry," said Stiles, "I don't want to be given blood money to work for the same monster that lost me my mother."
"No, I sense you'll become a PhD in advanced computer technology," said Derek.
"That's precisely what I have in mind," said Stiles.
They smiled broadly at each other. Then, Derek said, "Even though I've enjoyed being a professor at Stanford U, I haven't felt remotely comfortable discussing my past until today. I owe that to you, Stiles. It's like you and I have found a missing part of ourselves in each other."
"I feel exactly the same way, Derek," said Stiles in awe.
Suddenly and in broad daylight, they leaned across the table and kissed.
"We were meant for each other," they both said.
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Stiles moved in with Derek before the beginning of the semester, and Scott rented an apartment with Lydia. Over the following 12 months, classes were disrupted when a deadly hyperflu suddenly escaped from the Far East and had blanketed to the globe. Gerard Argent had done practically nothing to try slowing the rapid transmission of the disease. Vaccinations became available before too long, but multiple groups were opposed to receiving them, loyal to pharmaceutical organizations which favored ingesting non conventional materials that did more harm than good.
During a Christmas party at Stiles' and Derek's house with Stiles' father, Scott's mother and Lydia's parents at the conclusion of the autumn 2017 semester, Derek spontaneously got onto one knee in front of everyone, took Stiles' left hand, placed a diamond ring on it and asked him, "Will you marry me, Genim Stiles Stillinsk?"
Stiles' mouth fell open, but he quickly pulled Derek to his feet and said "You better believe I will, Derek Alexander Hale."
They kissed as everyone cheered.
Lydia turned to Scott and asked him, "What are the chances of you proposing to me the same way?
Scott got a Cheshire cat look on his face and said, "I could do it right now, if you like."
"What?" she exclaimed.
The room grew silent. Scott went down on his own knees and produced a ring from his own pocket. "Lydia Kristine Martin, will you do me the honor of being my wife?" he asked her.
Lydia blushed, but then she pulled herself together and said, "The honor will be mine, Scott Allister McCall." She pulled him upright, and they kissed as he placed the ring on her finger. Everybody cheered a second time.
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After all the guests went home for the night, Stiles and Derek were in their bedroom making love. Stiles stopped suddenly and faced Derek. Derek became slightly perplexed and asked, "What is it?"
"I could not share this in front of everyone, but I need to make it clear to you. I do want to marry you, but there is something you need to know before we press ahead."
"Hmmmmmm," said Derek in astonished confusion," I thought there would be no strings."
"Please let me explain," said Stiles, "I want this marriage more than anything. It's just that you might not wish to do it after I tell you this."
"Do tell," said Derek.
"I'm beginning to lay the groundwork to do something which could potentially be a criminal act but will hopefully result in a drastic shift in our current course of action," said Stiles.
Intrigued, his mentor-turned fiance said, "Tell me more."
"What I am doing is creating a completely false persona, one that is untraceable and exists strictly in cyberspace," said Stiles, "He will be identified as the World Vigilante."
"Wow!" exclaimed Derek, "I can just imagine somebody like you doing something like that. What do you plan to do with - or as - the World Vigilante?"
"The World Vigilante will pull off the hack job of the century and deactivate every worldwide nuclear device along with all fossil fuel harvesters, as well as freezing the offshore bank accounts of corrupted American billionaires, including those raking in profits from ordinary citizens suffering from diseases or shooting each other with black market guns. I have achieved this by figuring out how to monitor all electrical signals in every spot around the globe. Without the knowledge of a single world government, I have neutralized the security systems in all of those fixtures. I know more on my own than all of them combined."
Derek whistled hard. "Nuclear weapons, nuclear power plants, coal mines, oil rigs, fracking, Swiss bank accounts, outsourcing profits, pharmaceutical profits, firearm profits - you have all of it at your fingertips, Stiles, and nobody knows it now but me!"
"In progress, anyhow," said Stiles, "It'll be properly aligned like the pieces in a chess game by the time I graduate next year. I wanted you to know all this before we proceed with any kind of marriage plans, and you also will have the authority to talk me out of it."
Derek's mouth fell open. He said, "No way. No way on this tainted earth would I try to interfere with the World Vigilante. After all, it's not as though the powers that be have done anything to aid the greater good. Argent is one of those billionaires, and nobody is trying to bring him to justice for favoring them over the people. Something does need to happen, and it could so easily be the plan you are formulating, Stiles."
"You're with me?" asked Stiles in total amazement.
"I know you'll succeed. I love you Stiles," said Derek.
"I love you Derek," said Stiles.
They kissed deeply.