Chapter Text
Stiles stares down at the sleeping figure on their spare bed. Then spare bed echoes through his head again and glances up and around.
It’d seemed pretty damn far away for a while there. Living in small town Arizona, well, in the woods, spending his days watching the pack house grow into an actual structure, and his nights sobbing like a baby for all that he’d lost-
He takes a deep, shaky breath. He’s back. He’s back. It might take a few more deluxe Stilinski hugs from Dad, and a Halo marathon or two with Scott before he believes it, but this is real, and he is here, and the monster is-
Well. One of the monsters is asleep in their spare bed, kind of. Another sort-of monster is downstairs cooking up a storm with Dad, and the other definite monster is somewhere in the woods, probably crooning insanities to Kate Argent’s cooling corpse.
Ugh. He shudders. Fucking creepy. And that was Derek’s uncle? Man, and Stiles had thought his second cousin Reuben was skeevy.
Then Derek sucks in a deep breath, rolls onto his side and opens his eyes all in one beautiful, fluid movement. For a moment he and Stiles stare blankly at one another, then Derek blinks again, rapidly, and starts to shove against the bed to sit upright.
“Woah there, Lassie,” Stiles said, hands out.
Derek freezes, then sends him a familiar glare. “Really, Stiles? Dog jokes?”
“Sorry,” he says, shamefaced. “Sometimes my mouth- well. You’ve met me.” He shrugs.
“Try it with Laura, I dare you,” Derek grits out, and Stiles shakes his head rapidly.
“Uh, no, that’s okay. Scary alpha lady-”
“She wouldn’t hurt you,” Derek says quickly, a look of horror blooming on his face as if he’d suddenly remembered Stiles’s well-earned PTSD.
Stiles manages a smile. “Yeah, well. Not all humans are like Kate, either,” he says. “So maybe we can both agree not to hold grudges against each others’ species just because of a couple of assholes?”
“I can do that,” Derek says softly.
There’s silence. Stiles can’t stop looking at Derek’s shirtless chest – always a thing of beauty, but right now he’s mostly obsessed with the slowly fading bullet wounds. There’s so freaking many of them. And then there’s the way his Dad’s spare sweatpants really do not fit the ‘wolf.
Stiles’s mind keeps pinballing between ohmygodsohot and Derek could have died.
He’d really thought the guy was going to just fade out, right there on the filthy floor of that fucking torture chamber.
“How are you-” Stiles begins haltingly just as Derek says, “Look, I’m sorry that I-”
They both stop. Then Stiles smiles faintly and says, “Stranded me on the side of the highway?”
“Yes,” Derek says. “That.”
“Apology accepted,” Stiles says. “And I’m sorry I said such a dumbass-”
“No, it’s okay,” Derek breaks in. “I knew you didn’t mean-”
“I’m sorry anyway.”
“Okay,” Derek says, and very nearly manages to smile. Lord help Stiles if the wolf ever actually puts some effort into it, because that gay crisis he’d been putting off? It has apparently happened in the background anyway, and is now more of a The Big Gay Adventure Awaits kind of deal.
Derek’s eyes drift away for a moment, then refocus on Stiles. “Laura’s cooking,” he says, kind of blankly.
“Uh... yeah?”
The faintest of smiles touch Derek’s face. “No, I mean, I really must have been at death’s door if Laura is cooking.” He tilts his head a little.
There’s a beat, then Derek laughs, and Stiles realizes belatedly that he can hear her, and she can hear him, and he is using his recuperation time to rag on his sister. As if being an Adonis-like superhero with a soft spot for teen runaways wasn’t awesome enough, the guys is also a smartass.
Stiles is so screwed.
“Ripping on your alpha, huh?” he offers.
Derek half-shrugs. Then winces, one hand coming up to cup his ribs and the three circles clustered there.
“Laura said they’d take longer than usual to heal because of the wolfsbane and the, uh-” torture and near death, Stiles thinks. One look at the alpha’s face as she crouched over her brother had told Stiles just how close it had come.
He can’t imagine these two losing one another. They’ve already lost so freakin’ much.
Derek nods. There’s silence, then he says, “Are... you okay?”
Stiles blinks at him. “Me? Yeah, I’m – I didn’t get hurt or anything...”
“I meant,” Derek waves a hand uncomfortably. Right. Derek’s not the greatest communicator. How could Stiles have forgotten that?
“You mean general werewolf-related trauma?”
Derek grimaces.
“I’m okay,” he says, and shrugs.
Derek gives him a Look.
Stiles sighs. He looks down at picks at the seam of his jeans. “I’m... not bad. Some nightmares,” he finally says. “It’s good that Dad knows.”
“The Sheriff knows?” Derek asks blankly.
Stiles nods, “Laura told him. Only way to keep you out of hospital. You’re recuperating in our house, dude.”
Derek glances around him as if paying attention for the first time. Stiles supposes that knowing his alpha is nearby was reassurance enough. Certainly this Derek seems very different from the one Stiles met in Arizona. He’s just – easier in his own skin.
After a moment Stiles adds, “I’m trying to convince Laura to let me tell Scott.”
“Your... friend that was attacked. By Peter,” Derek says.
Stiles nods. “He’s okay, though. Got a wicked scar on his side, and a Mom that’s going ballistic if he’s not at home like, right on time, but...”
“Does he know why you ran?” Derek asks.
Stiles nods and looks away again. That bit is the worst. The absolute fucking worst. Trying to explain to Scott that he’d had no choice. And Scott doesn’t even seem mad about it. His faith in Stiles is just – ugh. What he wouldn’t give for some honest blame. For a punch in the face.
“It’ll get better,” Derek says.
Stiles’s eyes fly to meet his.
“Telling Laura,” Derek swallows. “How the fire- what I did-” He looks away. “It was the hardest thing. So fucking hard. But. It helped.”
“You didn’t do anything,” Stiles says, quiet but fierce. “That was all her, and she was a fucking psycho. You know that, right?”
There’s silence for a while, then Derek nods shakily. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know, but.” He shrugs helplessly, “I let her in, you know?”
Stiles sighs. “Yeah.” He thinks about Hey Scott, c’mon, let’s go driving in the woods, it’ll be fun, dude we won’t even get out of the car. “Yeah,” he says heavily. “I know.”
There’s a long silence, and then even Stiles’s human ears can hear the sound of plates and cutlery being set out on the table downstairs. “Dinner’s ready,” he manages, and Derek smiles a little.
Stiles hovers while Derek levers himself upright, and unashamedly watches as Derek drags a shirt on over all that heavenly flesh. As the beta comes toward him, headed for the door, Stiles swallows hard and says, “You guys live in New York, huh?”
Derek pauses at his side, close enough that their shoulders brush. Stiles has a brief moment to wonder what the older man can smell on him right now and then he blurts out, “I’m applying to NYU and Columbia.”
Derek goes still. “Yeah?” he says, and his voice is unreadable.
“Yeah,” Stiles husks out. His heart is pounding. “So... hopefully in two years I’ll be on the East Coast.”
Derek is staring at the floor, face concealed, but he hasn’t shifted away from Stiles, or moved past him to the open door.
“It’d be good to have – friends there.” And then he stops because, fuck, he’s not even sure what he wants to say. He’s sixteen, he’s recently discovering a whole other aspect to his sexuality, and he’s pretty fucking traumatised, truth be told. Plus, he remembers in a rush, Derek’s sister is downstairs, and can probably hear everything they’re saying. He closes his eyes in mortification and his face feels like it’s on fire.
But none of that matters, because for some reason, he can’t let Derek walk out that door without saying – something. He gropes blindly for words, nothing will come – how’s that for fucking irony? Stiles is lost for words.
And then warm fingers close around his hand, gripping firm but not too tight.
“It is,” Derek says, voice low. “It’s good to have friends when you’re in a strange place.”
Stiles breathes in and out, shaky. He squeezes Derek’s hand and risks a glance sideways. Derek is watching him, eyes unreadable, even as close as they are, sharing space, sharing breath.
“You’re not gonna forget me, then?” he asks, voice small.
“Not possible,” Derek says steadily, without a second’s hesitation.
“Promise?”
“I swear,” Derek says. For a moment they just stare at each other. And then Derek leans in slowly, presses his mouth to Stiles’s in a warm, firm kiss that goes on long enough for Stiles’s legs to start shaking, for his hands to fly out and grasp Derek’s waist to steady himself.
Derek pulls back, just a little, and stares straight into Stiles’s eyes. “I swear,” but this time it sounds a lot like I’ll wait.
“Oh.” He blinks a few times. A few times more. Derek’s eyes are really fucking mesmerising. “Okay,” Stiles finally manages, a little breathless. His hands tighten on Derek’s waist for a second, then he forces himself to let go. “I, uh, believe you.”
Derek smiles at him then, slow and warm and fond, with a light in his eyes that’s entirely new. It’s something Stiles has never seen, not in all the weeks they’ve known each other, and he is just completely defenceless against it. His heart turns clean over in his chest and he thinks dimly Goodbye, Lydia.
“Come on,” Derek says, and jerks his head. “I want to meet your Dad.”
Stiles let out a shuddering breath and watches Derek walk ahead of him down the hall. Stiles is hard as a rock, which will hopefully disappear on the walk downstairs, but he’s pretty sure it’ll take longer than that for his hands to stop shaking.
Of course, it’s the stupid fucking grin all over his face that’s really going to get his Dad asking questions.
T H E E N D