Chapter Text
Derek was waiting for Isaac as the kid slouched his way from the school building. He grinned when he saw Derek, hustled just a bit faster (slowed when Derek raised an eyebrow) to wrap his arms around Derek's legs before sliding into the car.
"School was ok?" Derek asked, pulling away from the curb. isaac shrugged and answered noncommittally. Derek nodded, listened to Isaac's breathing and the tone of his sent. There was no undercurrent of fear, no unusual tension, just the relief to be going home. Derek nodded again and insisted on spending the next hour helping him with his homework before sending him off to the television and his beloved, rather violent games.
Isaac paused over the machine as Derek started pulling vegetables out of the refrigerator, asked "is Stiles coming over tonight?" The kid smelled hopeful.
Derek looked at him over the counter. "Do you want him to?"
Isaac shrugged with as much unconcerned nonchalance as a ten year old could muster. Derek waited. "I like how he makes hot chocolate" was Isaac's answer when it finally came.
Derek snorted. He knew how the two valued their hot chocolate, huddling together over the pot on the stove as they stirred the damned stuff, Isaac perched on a stool so that he could hold the wooden spoon at the right angle. Stiles had decried Derek's lack of concern when he had refused to make a third around the stove and Isaac had smirked at him, looking content wrapped in his apron.
Isaac was the reason Stiles had been in Derek's apartment at all. After their fourth ... meeting ... Derek had slid out of bed, started pulling his jeans on. Stiles had watched him for a moment before sitting up and pulling his knees loosely to his chest, suggesting in an anxious, off-handed way (a complete failure for unconcern) that "maybe, you know Derek, you could stay and we could ... eat? ... something. Maybe. if you don't ..."
Derek had frozen with his pants barely pulled up to his hips. He'd wanted to climb back in the bed and see what would happen next if he did just stay. Had been suddenly and overwhelmingly curious if Stiles could cook or if he would order out. It was such a mundane thing to wonder that it had knocked Derek off balance.
Derek still wondered if he would have stayed if circumstances had been different, if the world were something else entirely.
As it was, Derek had reached for the most convenient excuse available and said "I have to go. Isaac will be getting off soon."
Stiles face had twitched down at the name and he'd mumbled "Isaac is your brother? or ..." trailing off as his hands had picked at the sheets.
Derek should have ended it there, should have just nodded and left. Instead he'd dug his phone out of his pocket, pulled up a picture of Isaac and handed it to Stiles.
Stiles eyes had gone soft and the downward set of his mouth had melted up while he'd looked reverently at the picture, flipped to the next. Derek knew how well Isaac's smile photographed. "He's yours?"
Derek hadn't known immediately how to answer. Isaac was definitely his. It was his bite that had turned Isaac and Isaac's welfare was his concern, but Isaac's genetics certainly didn't match. So Derek had settled on shaking his head and saying "He's mine now."
Stiles had tripped out of the bed, pulled the sheet around his body and told Derek that he would love to meet the kid. "Derek if you are, you know, alright with that?" Stiles had pressed Derek's phone into his hand and told him that he thought it would be "really great if they could all do dinner? I mean, what with the ..." Stiles waved a hand toward the bed, toward his own sheet-covered body "I didn't eat lunch. And I, well, I could eat?"
Derek's throat had been too dry to even try and say no. Stiles had grabbed Derek's silence as an affirmation, a demand even that Stiles then and there pull on some pants, grab his keys, and herd Derek out to his car.
The absurdity of the situation was really not lost on Derek. Nor was Isaac's look of surprise when they picked him up from his mandatory swimming lessons.
But the entire situation exemplified his relationship with Stiles. Stiles just always pushed gently, opened doors with an inquiring expression as he talked about things like the various merits of game consoles and desk top computers. He would call up and ask if Derek and Isaac were hungry, suggest that if Derek cooked, Stiles could bring dessert. Derek barely said anything but ask what time he was thinking.
Stiles always asked, told Derek that he was going to take a step, and then took it. Derek, in response, definitely didn't say 'no' and Stiles interpreted any silence as a 'yes' (except in the bedroom, then he demanded to be told all sorts of things).
For Isaac though, even though it was hard, Derek made a point of responding with words. Because there was no one else there. Because Isaac was his. Because Isaac was in this too.
"I don't know. I haven't talked to him. You want Stiles to come because my cooking isn't good enough?" Derek asked, standing and stacking the carrots and broccoli on the counter, putting a pot of water on to boil. He started chopping, using the steady rhythm to keep himself calm. Isaac was so sensitive to anxiety, to any change.
The console announced how ready it was to be used and Isaac very obviously did not look away from the screen. "His desserts are better. You always forget dessert."
Derek looked at the food spread out along the counter. Derek couldn't very well deny it. He breathed in through his nose and out again, thought perhaps there was a packet of thin mints in the freezer. But then Isaac didn't like thin mints - which was the only reason they had survived. Everything else got demolished. Growing werewolf and all. Ate enough to match three human kids.
Derek put down his knife, wiped his hands on the dish towel and sat down on the couch next to Isaac. He punched isaac lightly on the shoulder and palmed his neck. Isaac glared at him, but relaxed.
"You like Stiles then?"
"Yeah" Isaac answered simply, squirming on the couch until he could lean into Derek. Derek watched the game for a moment, carding his fingers gently through Isaac's curls. Wondered if he should get out the brush and really work through the tangles again. Stiles was better at it. Better at keeping up a constant stream of conversation to distract Isaac while he gently worked the tangles out.
Derek swallowed. "I'm going to tell him, Isaac. Which means that he might." Derek stopped. Looked at Isaac's frozen hands, watched Isaac's onscreen avatar crash and burn, bullets strafing through the figure's body. Blood filled the image as the character expired in some rather gruesome death throes.
"Stiles would like the symbolism" Isaac muttered. Derek nodded and pulled Isaac tightly against him.
They decided to forgo the planned meal, ordered pizza and drowned their sorrow in ginger ale until the late hours of the night when Derek tucked a drooping Isaac into bed at nine thirty.
Derek looked at the ten texts from Stiles detailing his day, progressing from questions about maybe, you know, meeting up (he could bring to dessert), to inquiring if everything was all right. Had Derek forgotten to charge his phone again?
Derek took a deep breath, and called him back.
Stiles voice was a mix of tired, curious, and unconcerned. Derek found himself tracing patterns on the coffee table as Stiles talked about his day, asked if everything was ok. Dere, told him that, yeah, there had just been some ... things. Something had come up and he and Isaac had been forced to drown their respective sorrows.
Stiles laughed, his voice sounding like it was bouncing through the connection, as he told Derek that he shouldn't be teaching Isaac such terrible habits. The kid was already learning how to scowl. A ten year old had no business learning such a dark scowl. To also learn that it was alright to drown sorrows in ginger ale, that was just a travesty.
Derek grunted in response. And when Stiles asked if they maybe wanted to do dinner tomorrow, Derek sighed, clutched a throw pillow tightly and worked the necessary words out of his throat to tell Stiles that "they needed to talk."
There was a long silence on the other end during which Derek didn't breath in favor of listening to Stiles' light, quick breaths. Derek could just pick up how Stiles' heart sped up.
Derek told himself that, if everything had been equal, he at least knew that Stiles had cared at that moment.
"I'll be there in ten. I just have to. You know. Find my keys." Derek could hear things being shoved aside on Stiles' desk, clothes being sorted. "Don't you dare" Stiles was telling him as Derek listened to Stiles' front door close "make any decisions without me. No conclusions, nothing until you've told me whatever it is." The phone went dead.
Derek dropped it on the table, went and stood in the door to Isaac's room, looked at how the night light reflecting in isaac's eyes.
"You know," Derek told Isaac as he sat down next to him on the bed. He took isaac's hand and placed Isaac's fingers over the pulse on Derek's own neck "that you are amazing, right? That I think you are worth the moon?" They sat for a moment, Derek letting Isaac feel the steady beat of his heart, until Isaac nodded.
When he was sure that Isaac was calm, Derek asked "You want to go downstairs to Erica's, or you want to listen to whatever happens?" Isaac's hand dropped and his fingers fidgeted on the covers. "I can't prevent you from hearing if you're stay, what with your big ears" Derek flicked the shell of isaac's ear and smiled at him "but it could ... It might not be nice to hear." Isaac shook his head, leaned into Derek. Derek dropped his head against Isaac's curls and the two sat there until they heard Stiles' rapid steps on the stairs, approaching the landing. Derek smiled wanly at Isaac, ruffled his hair, and went to the front door, cursing the world and its unfairness.
Because whatever the night served Derek, Isaac didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve anything that had been thrown his way so far.
Certainly didn't deserve to have to deal with Derek and his fuck-ups. If the world was a different place, then Derek might have argued that the increased healing that had saved Isaac's life would have been worth it. As it was, Derek sometimes wondered if biting the kid had been better than letting him ... Derek shuddered.
But even though Isaac had lived, even seemed happy now, Derek was scared as fuck about what the future might hold for him, for them. Derek would find out if Isaac still wanted to hug him when he realized that he wouldn't be able to get into a good college. When Isaac found out that people were afraid of him on principal and not just because ten years olds were little shits. Derek would see if a grown Isaac was ok with being a werewolf, because ten was not old enough, not really, to give consent to the bite. A problem which Derek hadn't really thought through when he'd finally tracked the kid down and found him ... with internal bleeding from where he'd been thrown and then locked ...
Derek had to work his fingers out of fists and calm his heart again. They would be fine for now as long as no one looked too closely at them. As long as the Argents didn't realize that Isaac wasn't flesh and blood in the way humans cared about.
Derek threw the door open.
Stiles had his hand raised to knock, his shirt buttoned incorrectly, shoes on but untied. He looked almost relieved to see Derek, stood there awkwardly for a moment, his eyes wide in surprise, breath coming too fast from having run up the stairs.
They looked at each other and Stiles smiled tentatively. Derek opened the door wider, moved back so Stiles could come in. Stiles toed his shoes off, and went into the living room, stood awkwardly for a moment before he sat stiffly on a chair next to the table.
"Isaac in bed?" he asked, as if trying for a safe topic.
Derek nodded and sat across from him. He didn't know what to say, how to say it.
"So?" Stiles finally prompted, kicking his leg under the table. "You're kind of freaking me out dude."
Derek took a deep breath. "There are ..." Derek said slowly, paused to try and find the right words "Some. Things. That you don't know about me. And." Stiles looked curious, looked as if some of his fear was draining out. "I shouldn't have. Waited. To tell you."
"What, you have an STD? I mean, yeah, you should have told me, but we've been safe. I can get tested again, make sure nothing happened."
Derek's eyebrows twitched.
Stiles apologized. "That wasn't it, sorry, go on," he bounced his leg under the table, tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
"Stiles, we've never really talked about politics. Or. Environmentalism." Derek let out a huff of breath.
"Oh my fuck - you're a neo-conservative. Derek, have you thought about the party's stance on gay marriage and adoption? On unions? Labor in this country is way too weak. You're in construction and house restoration, you should know these things."
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, no. This isn't about gay marriage."
"As in you think you never want to?" Stiles sounded hurt.
"I'm not against marriage."
Stiles flushed. "Oh, ok then. And. You're not, you know, anti-children."
Derek blanched. Fuck. Erica had been right.
Stiles looked scared. "You don't want kids then? I mean, you have Isaac already. That's enough?"
Derek sighed. "Stiles, I can't adopt. No agency would accept my application."
Derek could see Stiles running through the options and he snapped out Stiles name before he could in on another theory. Stiles closed his mouth. Derek waited another beat and asked "I need to know how you feel about werewolves."
Stiles' mouth opened and closed. He looked bewildered and Derek counted it as hopeful that he didn't smell afraid, just confused.
"I haven't really put much thought into the matter. I mean, it must suck, but I don't know much about it. The media isn't exactly reliable on the topic, but I definitely don't like the way the legislature is trending. I don't really see the difference between a werewolf and a guy with a gun for the most part. I mean, I sort of imagine it can be hard not to claw people's faces, what with the things they say. But it rarely happens, and seems provoked when it does. So, anyway, I am for equal rights and all. Although I am not really sure what to say about the possible impact on professional sports. And I definitely don't like how Alison's family is campaigning for changing the legal status of ..."
Derek let out a breath, interrupted. "So you know what it would mean to date one."
Derek could see the situation starting to actually sink in. "You have family who are?" Stiles asked. Derek raised an eyebrow. "You are. I mean. You're a werewolf." Stiles said faintly. They sat, looking at each other.
"I" Stiles stopped, licked his lips and the bottom dropped out of Derek's stomach. He could hear isaac's low whine from the bedroom. If this was going to be how it went, he needed Stiles out. He didn't need to listen to the reasons about why Stiles couldn't be around Derek again. Couldn't handle the association. Derek would have to start trying to find a new place tomorrow. They could stay with Erica until they worked it out.
Derek stood up and moved to the door, opened it and looked at Stiles expectantly.
But Stiles didn't move from his seat, sat there and looked at Derek, kept up the constant tap of his fingers across the table. "No, no. Derek, I'm not leaving. You can't. You can't just say something like that and expect me to have a response at the ready. It's not like I am a politician and I don't have an immediate answer. This is. You're asking me if I am willing to change my whole life and I. I need to think. It's not like you gave me warning."
"What do you think I should have done, given you a card?" Derek asked in a sneer, but he let the door close. Stiles pointed at the seat Derek had vacated and Derek slid back into it.
"Look, Derek," Stiles said sliding his hands across the table "I appreciate it, I really do, that you told me. You probably thought about threatening to rip my throat out with your teeth if I ever told anyone, you're probably terrified that I could try to take Isaac away. I mean, I would be. And you don't have to worry about that ... I would never ... But it would make sense if it did worry you.
"I mean, given everything, you're practically asking me to be family and it's just a lot to take in right now. Part of me is really thrilled about it, because it sort of feels like you are pulling a Kirk and asking me to share your burdens, to let me help you instead of saying that whole 'I love you' thing. Not that that is exactly what Kirk said. But, I mean. Wow, if that's what this means. Because, man, shit, I really really like you. Even if we barely know each other. Or, maybe know each other, but it hasn't been that long. - what three months now? So yeah, that sort of eclipses a lot."
Stiles blew out a breath and got up, paced into the kitchen, out again, pointed at Derek and then shook his head. "I need" he muttered to himself and got out the ginger ale, threw a can to Derek. He rooted through the kitchen until he found the thin mints, quirked a smile at Derek and asked "Isaac not like them?" Derek shook his head.
Stiles ate a cookie, sat back down, bounced his leg, ate another cookie. "Do you mind if I talk some of this through? Because. I wasn't prepared to... and I think if I walk out that door, you won't let me back in." Stiles blew a breath out through his mouth. "I mean, I don't really know what to say. My first response is that I don't care. I like you Derek. And, Isaac, man, he's an awesome kid. Even if I didn't like you as much as I do, I would like how you take care of him. So really, you're ... I like you. I like the thought of what we could be together." Stiles flushed.
"But man, the ramifications. It's hard. For me, I don't think it really matters. I mean, if they let me go, I can get another job. I could even help you with home repair thing ... oh ... that's part of the reason you do home repair, isn't it? Because you can ... fuck." Stiles looked stricken. "You know, sometimes," Stiles said slowly, burying his face in his hands "people suck. ... Of course you know that."
Stiles took a few shuddering breaths. Derek heard Isaac climb out of bed and saw his bedroom door twitch open. Derek shook his head minutely when Isaac's eyes peered around the doorframe. Isaac vanished and the door shut again.
"My best friend" Stiles said, lifting his head and looking at Derek again "is dating an Argent. That's going to probably be a problem, isn't it? For him, I mean. Would that be a problem for you? I mean, she doesn't support them, disagrees actually, thinks that her family goes to far, but she's not exactly come out against them. Support by association in a way. I mean, most people are going to think that she agrees, make assumptions about what she thinks just because of her name. It's sort of sad that she can never choose to stand back. Although, I think that's likely part of the problem, isn't it? So many people just shrug and say that it isn't their problem. Fuck, you must hate me right now." Stiles's whole body shuddered, he paused again.
"It's horrible, really. A part of my brain is telling me that if I stay here, if I don't run away like a coward, my dad is likely going to loose his job as sheriff. It will be really hard for him to win the next election. But, fuck people. If they can't get their heads out of their asses, then they don't deserve to have him." Stiles closed his eyes. "He could always disassociate himself from me. If it came to that."
Derek dug his fingers into the lip of the table. "I shouldn't," Derek started to say "I should never have asked..."
Stiles' eyes flew open. "Stop right there Derek. Just, stop. You haven't actually voiced a question and you can't take whatever that question even is off the table. And I want to know what exactly it is that you did put on the table with your declaration. What are you asking me at this point. Right now."
It was a completely fair question and had Derek shifting in his seat. "Right now I'm asking if going on is even possible. If you are willing to ..."
Stiles mouth quirked to the side. "Fight the world at your side? You know, at various stages in my life, I've already been beaten up for being a nerd and for being gay. I have no idea what I will be getting into with this, because the situation changes almost daily, depending on elections, sometimes depending on the fucking weather." Stiles paused, grabbed Derek's hand on the table and squeezed it tightly. Derek could feel the pulse thumping in the Stiles' thumbs.
He looked a Stiles' hands, the long fingers of them, the short nails and tiny cracks from the dry weather.
"You know what I would get, Derek, if I stayed? What might make this worth while?"
Derek shrugged slightly "All you'd really get would be me and Isaac."
"That, you know, might just be enough. I won't know if I don't try, but I do know that I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't. So this is me saying yes, going on is most assuredly possible. I'll even wear a 'werewolf rights' pin if you want."
Derek smiled slowly, shook his head. Shit, but life had just gotten more complicated. Derek thought it would be worth it.