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Figuring out your best friend is a werewolf is pretty easily done when He Who Shall Not Be Named was the most obvious werewolf ever. Seriously. His once-best friend had always been tactile, Stiles was too so it was never a bother. But when Stiles poured over hours of research a few things clicked into place. Even more clicked into place when he was standing in front of the man who used to be his best friend. Like the growling and the sniffing.
“This is private property.” Derek said, arms crossed and murderous brows in full grown effect. Stiles couldn’t even be upset about stumbling forward, wouldn’t blame himself for throwing himself into Derek’s arms.
“You’re alive, De-derek you’re all-live!” Stiles sobbed, shoving his face into Derek’s neck and encouraging Derek to do the same. He only began to relax when he felt arms wrap around his waist and hold him close. “Fuck you,” Stiles cried, pressing kisses into the man's neck, “I thought you were dead .”
“Sti,” Derek choked out, breathing in deep and running his tongue over Stiles bared neck. Stiles just ran a hand through Derek’s hair, dragging blunt nails down his scalp. Derek began making a low growly-rumbling noise in his chest that echoed throughout Stiles body and helped calm him, until his sobbing was mostly sniffling. He pulled back enough to look, to really see Derek after 6 years. Stiles traced his eyebrows with his finger tips, lighting ghosted over his cheekbones and lower lip. Derek, being the dork he always used to be just said, “Hi.”
“Did you know,” Stiles began, punctuating each word with a sharp poke to Derek’s chest, “Living without your mate is incredibly dangerous. It goes against the nature of your wolf to not care for them. I also read that wolves crave the same, to be comforted by their mates. So Derek Lance Hale, why the fuck did you leave?”
By the end, Stiles was practically shouting and Derek just stood there, hands still clenched into the back of his t shirt, “I couldn’t put that much responsibility on you. You were nine, Stiles. Your Mo-” Derek’s voice broke at that, a high whining noise sounded in his throat while he tucked his head back into Stiles neck and rubbing his chin against it.
“Shh Der, it’s okay. I think I actually understand that.” Stiles said, running his hands through Derek’s hair (petting him) until he recovered enough to face him again, “You need a pack?” Stiles asked, Derek nodded. Now for the big time, “Can there be humans in the pack?” Another head shake, “Good.”
“Pack?” Derek asked
“Pack.”
“Mate?” Derek said in a whisper, barely loud enough for Stiles to hear.
“Mate.” Stiles confirmed, pressing a kiss to Derek's lips. “Now I have to explain to my dad that I'm werewolf married with a 22 year old and hope he doesn't shoot you.”
“I'd be happily shot for you,” Derek says, kissing Stiles again even as Stiles laughs.