Cross my heart and hope to die

Part 4

Another chapter!

I don't have notes actually..

Only that I have such a great idea for the ending!!

It will only take me some time to actually get there.. UGH.

I'm pretty shit at describing fighting scenes, so I hope you're not completely disappointed.. Underlined words/sentences are supposed to be in another language!

Enjoy!!

****

Waking up hurts a bit, but the metallic taste in his mouth is worse. He groans and flips on his stomach while burrowing himself into the pillow beneath his head.

His mind is fuzzy, and he can't really remember falling asleep. He grumbles when he feels the pillow isn't right. It isn't his pillow. Which is weird 'cause he can't sleep without his pillow. Derek teases him over it all the time. Stiles can only sleep with his pillow or with his head on Derek's chest.

The werewolf always feels horribly smug about that.

''Wake up, Misschief.''

''Don't wanna,''

He replies in his mother's tongue without a second thought. Only when he has spoken the words does he realize that there isn't anyone anymore who talks Russian to him. Because his mother is dead, has been for the last fifteen years, and his father only ever talked Polish with him, never Russian. The language hurt too much to his dad, who only learned the language for his loving wife.

Thinking about his dad brings a whole other wave of feelings over him.

Grief and guilt are the most prominent.

His dad is dead. Has been for at least a year. Then Scott kicked him out of the pack, and Derek broke up with him. Then Stiles moved to New York.

He hasn't had his own pillow because the last thing he remembered was that he was using magic to undo a possession on a God in a fucking hellicarrier.

Stiles groans loudly, earning a chuckle from Nat. Who is clearly waiting for him to wake up.

''So you finally remember where you are?''

''No, I have forgotten everything and am just waiting for the sweet relief of death.'' He grumbles while trying to suffocate himself in the fake pillow. It's not his pillow, so it's a fake. It has to be.

Natasha pulls his head up for a moment, and he tries to glare at her with his eyes closed before she laughs and tells him, ''not today,''

''Spoilsport.''

Natasha chuckles again before prodding him until he lies on his back and opens his eyes.

''You did something amazing.'' She says sincerely in English. Stiles squirms a bit and feels uncomfortable from the compliment before he looks away while nodding. ''Thanks. How is the royal prick?''

''The royal prick is fine, young Seiðr, but he wishes to be addressed with some form of respect.'' Another voice sounds from the other side of the room, startling Stiles, who grabs his chest in response to his racing heart.