Chapter Text
You’d done it, you’d ruined your second chance, and you’d done it all by yourself.
You stayed with Chris for a few weeks, letting him guide you through the motions. One night when he’d found you crying at the kitchen counter you’d had a heart to heart, and he’d admitted that it was nice to have someone to care for again. He often found he didn’t know what to do with himself since he’d lost Allison, so you let him help. He made you breakfast, and on the slow mornings he’d bring it through to you. He forced you out of the house if you stayed in for too long, often with Peter at his side to bring some brighter vibes to your otherwise melancholy outings. Thankfully, you were a contractor, so you were able to simply take a break from work while you got yourself through the heartbreak. Peter would spend money on odd things that he’d have delivered to Chris’s door for you. You had a small army of unusual rubber ducks he kept finding and deciding that you needed - it was his way of telling you that he was there, even though he couldn’t help like Chris could. He just wasn’t built for it.
When things were too quiet, you heard Derek’s voice ringing in your mind- “you need to leave” - how defeated and angry he’d sounded. People who intended to give redemption didn’t sound like that.
Scott and Stiles visited once to play video games, just to keep you company and get your mind off everything. They didn’t say much, other than trash talk while playing, and you appreciated them chasing the quiet from the apartment. Chris still had work, and so too often you were left alone with your thoughts. Malia and Lydia visited another day, and rather than forcing you out of the house like you might have expected, the three of you had a quiet pamper day. When left alone, Malia spoke to you about it, the only one brave enough to do so and somehow she was the one to deliver the blow you needed most.
“This is a bit pathetic. Sorry. He’s literally just a guy and it’s not like you had no reason, even if it wasn’t a good one.” You didn’t reply, and she left it there. But it helped, in an odd way.
When Peter got back later that night, after they were gone, he could smell pack in the apartment and you could’ve sworn you’d seen him smile. Despite everything, how wrong you were, how awful you felt for what you’d done to Derek, the pack was willing to rally around you and support you through your grief. That was what it was, you supposed - grief, you were mourning the relationship and life that you’d built with Derek at the centre of it, preparing for the idea that you may never get it back.
It took a total of three weeks, four days, and six hours for Derek to finally reach out. Just one text, but that was all that was needed.
“I’ll pick you up tonight from Chris’s at 8.”
You got ready, but you figured there was no reason to dress up. You showered, scrubbing every inch of yourself to wash away the stench of hurt and pain. Peter stayed close enough to sniff you each time you got out, helping you get rid of most of it with enough scentless soap, and your preferred scented soap in combination. You wore lightwash jeans, a t-shirt, and the hoodie that Chris had given you that first night, when you realised you’d be staying with him for longer than just one night. You’d not thought to grab one when you packed, California was warm after all, but the chill that set into your bones was less to do with that and more to do with your mood, so Chris had helped.
Derek was outside at ten to six, Peter revealed, so you wouldn’t be blindsided by it if you glanced his car from the window. He insisted you remain inside until six, in part to be petty and in part to calm down from the rising panic and distress at the knowledge he really had come to pick you up. Peter coached you through it as best he could, until a very Malia-like sentence came out of his mouth.
“Good god, it’s just Derek! He couldn’t hurt a fly, and he’s tried, take that from the guy he killed.” And the soft laughter that bubbled up in your chest against your will, despite the tears in your eyes, gave both of you some relief. He wrapped you in a warm embrace, hand dragged up your back to gently squeeze your neck, the most affectionate thing you’d known Peter to do since you met him.
“You’ll be fine. And if you’re really not, you have my number.” Peter said where he leaned in the doorframe to the apartment, and you had a text from Chris when you opened your phone, assuring you of much the same.
It would be fine, even if it wasn’t.
Derek looked as rough as you felt. You climbed into the passenger seat in silence, and he said nothing as he pulled away from the curb, beginning to drive to who knew where. Nobody turned on the radio, both preferring to suffer in the oppressive silence between you. You didn’t want to start, you knew that ultimately you were the one who’d made the bad choice and the one to hurt Derek, so he should speak first. It seemed he was intent on making you squirm first.
It wasn’t until you’d passed the sign to show you were leaving Beacon Hills that Derek spoke.
“I get it.” He said, voice hoarse, like he’d not spoken in days. That alone was enough to begin releasing some of the tension in your chest, but not enough. Not enough to actually help you feel any better, because it truly meant nothing. Just because Derek understood why you’d done it, didn’t mean he’d forgive you, or that he accepted the reasoning. He just understood.
“I’ve lied to people before. Everyone has. It’s hard to tell the truth after you’ve already been lying, and I get why.. this lie specifically was so hard to admit to,” he explained, hands tightening periodically on the steering wheel, “but I’m still.. I want to be angry, but it just hurts.” He then admitted, softer. You nodded, swallowing hard.
“That’s.. fair. I don’t blame you at all. I- I was just so stuck, and I was scared. Malia came over the other day, she’s been the only person to speak to me like an adult about it, I guess. She said .. ‘you had a reason, even if it wasn’t a good one’ and it helped. Because I didn’t lie for the fun of it, but fuck it was a lame excuse. I lied to protect myself, instead of being honest to protect you.”
Every moment of those three weeks apart, you were thinking about what you could possibly say to Derek if given the opportunity, and that was the conclusion you’d come to.
“I was a coward and.. I can’t put into words how sorry I am for that.”
The silence after that was less heavy, less interwoven with all your unspoken hurt feelings and angers and grief. Finally, Derek reached out to turn on the music, a CD rather than the radio, one you’d put together as a pair and burned onto the disc. You’d done it after Derek had told you how much he’d wanted to give someone a mixtape as a teenager, but never got the chance. It was a sweet moment, and when you’d played it for the first time, you’d just laid in bed together, holding one another, and enjoying it.
“I don’t want to lose you.” Derek said, after the end of the first song.
“Me neither.” You replied, giving Derek the time to find the words for whatever he wanted to say next.
“I just don’t know how we move past this,” he said, pausing as he waited for a car to pass before turning, “I can forgive you, eventually, but I don’t think I can forget that it happened.”
“You don’t need to forget, I wouldn’t expect that.”
“But then, I still don’t, or I didn’t, know what to do. How we move on to whatever comes next.”
“You say that like you’ve figured it out.”
“Yesterday, just before I texted you. I had an idea. I didn’t want to.. come back to you and tell you that I just didn’t know because.. it wasn’t helpful. I spent a lot of time talking to Stiles’ dad, actually. He came by with a six pack and just sat with me, let me talk about it even when I didn’t know what I was talking about. He gave me.. a lot of words I could put to the feelings. And it was him that said I should figure out.. what I want. What would help us to.. move on, because it festers otherwise. I watched it happen with one of my aunts. I don’t want that to be us.” Derek finished just as he pulled up outside a small diner. It was the classic diner, just what you’d expect to find in the middle of nowhere on the side of a road to nowhere.
“I want to start again. A first date.” Derek finally said, turning to you, waiting for your response.
“Really?” Was all you could manage, hands trembling slightly in your lap.
“Really. Let me take you for.. shitty diner food, and we can pretend that this is the beginning again. Not a clean slate but.. close. This time, full honesty.” His hand lingered on the handle, hesitating to get out of the car until you confirmed.
“I’d like that, Derek. A lot.” You agreed, with a small nod and a watery smile. Derek got out of the car.
You weren’t able to commit to pretending, there was still too much hurt between you, but you got close. You walked up to the diner close enough for your shoulders to brush, but not holding hands; you ordered a big milkshake to share, like real cliches; you told each other things you already knew, and some things that you hadn’t; you laughed at bad jokes, and the waitress told you she loved to see young love.
Love felt like a heavy word to use given everything, but Derek just smiled, and you looked away with warm cheeks. Like a real first date. You ordered each other’s favourites, an in-joke neither of you could abandon, but shared everything between the both of you so nobody missed out. You even stayed for dessert, with no concerns that it would go unfinished with Dereks’ werewolf appetite.
The drive back home was lighter, with music playing and no more words needed. As you passed the sign back into Beacon Hills, Derek took your hand and held it loosely in his lap. Keeping you close.
Apparently, Chris and Peter had known exactly what the plan was, because when you pulled back up at the apartment building - neither of you quite ready for you to go back to the loft - they were waiting with stern expressions that kept faltering in the face of how silly the situation was.
“And what time do you call this?” Peter asked, raising his wrist, tapping it as if there was a watch there - there wasn’t.
“Sorry, we got dessert.” Derek replied, leaning up against his car with arms folded.
“Well, by curfew next time young man.” Chris added, all illusions of sternness gone when he looked at you with a wide smile. You looked back at Derek, your smile small and fragile, but when he returned it you felt something inside you heal back into place.
You headed back up to Chris’ apartment together, laughing at Chris and Peter’s antics.
“You knew.” You accused them once you were back inside, pulling off Chris’ hoodie to hang it up in the hallway.
“Not until you were already sat down. Derek texted Peter to let him know.”
“I didn’t realise you and Derek texted.” You said as you turned to Peter.
“Only about you.” He replied shamelessly, which just made you sigh. Peter pressed a kiss to Chris’ temple as he passed by, going to get ready for bed. Apparently that was his limit on mushy things for one day. Chris wrapped you in a warm hug before you could follow suit.
“I’m glad it went well, but it’s what comes next that’s hard.”
“What?”
“Not falling apart again.”
You and Derek took things slow, both glad to Chris for letting you keep staying with him in the meantime. You went back to work so your time was fuller again, bringing money back in so you could treat Chris and Peter one night, they arrived home to a spread of their favourite takeouts. Just as a thank you for all they’d done for you. You headed over to the Stilinski house one night to play games with the pack, and Noah gave you a quick side hug. You smuggled him a bacon topped burger as a thank you for his help, then distracted Stiles while he ate it by beating his ass in Smash Bros.
There were more dates, taking things slow and keeping it lowkey. Derek planned another date, a midday coffee date a week after the first. You planned a picnic date deep in the preserve where nobody would stumble across you, Peter having helped you pack the food. Derek planned a date to a restaurant in Silver Lake, giving yourselves the privacy of nobody knowing you there. You planned a date at the museum in Beacon County, something that didn’t involve just talking and eating.
Derek planned a date at the loft, the first time you’d both been there since the fight that almost ended your relationship. You banished that memory with new ones, watching movies as you cuddled together on the sofa, until you both fell asleep there, leaning against each other like there was nothing wrong in the world.
The bliss was interrupted when another Big Bad arrived to attempt to kill the population of Beacon Hills, and this time when your aim rang true, shooting straight through the brain of a creature that had been primed to deal Derek a killing blow (the first time in your life that you’d managed to deal your own killing blow) there was no shock. No shock, no yelling, no devastation. Just Derek’s lips on yours for the first time in weeks, arms wrapped around your waist, and a soft thank you whispered against your lips.
You stayed in the loft that night, curled up in the bed you now were sure would be yours again soon, Derek’s arms wrapped tight around you to keep you close.
“I thought you were a bad shot.” He said into the darkness, and you could feel the movement of his lips against your skin.
“No, I’m a great shot. I’ve just.. never been able to shoot something living. At least not enough to kill. Never quite.. sat right with me.” You explained, fiddling absently with his fingers.
“But you did today.”
“To protect you.” You said, like it was the simplest thing in the world, because suddenly it was. Why would you ever do anything else? Derek was the man you planned to spend the rest of your life with, and so nothing mattered more than keeping him safe.
Derek turned you over suddenly, so you lay on your back, and he followed after, kneeling over you. You said nothing, waiting to see why he’d done that, and he just stared.
“I love you.” He whispered as the moon came in through the window, lighting his face just enough to reveal electric blue beta eyes.
“That does it for you, really?” You joked, and the growl that replied was playful.
“Say it back.” He insisted, rolling his eyes, though he wasn’t ashamed of it.
“I love you too, Derek.”