Chapter Text
“So, Derek, why do you think Jonas interrupted the other kid’s game of good guys and bad guys?”
Mrs. Stilinski’s warm southern drawl snapped Derek out of his preoccupation of dog-earing the pages of his copy of The Giver. Hazel eyes snapped up to the woman’s pale face, trying to remember which part of the book he was supposed to be at.
The woman smiled, leaning back on the kitchen counter behind her, folded arms breaking from around her chest to brace themselves on the smooth granite. Honey eyes sweeping back and forth between the two children seated at the dining room table before her.
“Uh..” Derek supplied, looking down at his book as though the answer was going to project into his mind at any second. He looked back up to his teacher, tiny fang worrying his bottom lip. “I dunno, Miss.”
Raising a brow at the boy, she swiveled her hips to place herself in the other student’s line of vision.
“Alright, Stiles, I can see you itching in your seat. Go ahead, hit me.” She teased, putting her hands to the ceiling in submission.
Said Stiles, turned his head, looking toward Derek apologetically, looking as though the older boy would eat him for stealing his thunder. Derek just rolled his eyes, tried to pretend it wasn’t a pout on his face, and slid down his chair.
“Jonas thought the game was mean, cause it was making fun of war and stuff and cause he wasn’t taking his medicine anymore he could see that it was bad.”
“Very good, sweetie.” Mrs. Stilinski praised, turning around and sweeping her papers off the counter, the figures of two teens bumbling in from the hall connecting the living room.
Derek had never been more relieved to see Laura and Patrick, traipsing into the kitchen and snickering about their lesson while rioting though the fridge. He completely slid out of his chair, and scrambled to follow after them, running into his mother’s hip. She glared down at her youngest son, rolling her eyes in a familiar way before taking her spot at Claudia’s side.
Cora and Hannah joined their older siblings in the kitchen, followed by their Uncle Peter who wore an over exasperated expression on his face.
“Alright, you lot of insufferable minions-” He started in a low timber, scowling at the group huddled around the fridge, staring at the contents but not connecting anything as edible. “Who wants fried peanut butter and jellies?”
The collective hoots and howls were enough consensus for Peter, and he squeezed into the mob of kids to get to work. Derek smiled with his siblings, clamboring to find a spot at the kitchen island before all the seats got occupied. Laura ended up sitting on him, and even though he complained loudly, he really didn’t mind. His big sister cackled, ruffling his mop of black hair, leaning against Patrick to fill the gap between them and the chairs.
“Mama, can we go home now?”
Derek turned his head away from where Cora was spreading peanut butter on Hannah’s cheek, Hannah spreading grape jelly on Cora’s, looking over to the small voice he was familiar with now. Stiles was tugging on his mom’s sleeve, shouldering his backpack up higher where it was slipping down with his windbreaker.
“Don’t you wanna stay and play with the Hales? They’re making goober sandwiches.”
Derek could smell the anxiety rolling off the eight year old, shuffling in his shoes and looking over to the other kids. Laura had joined Derek in the rubbernecking, her smile falling off her face as she harshly pulled on Derek’s ear.
“Stop eavesdropping you nerd. It’s not nice.”
“You were doing it, too! It’s kind of hard not to hear them anyway.”
“Well, just pretend to listen to someone else, gah. You’re so dumb.”
Derek huffed, rubbing at his ear and keeping his gaze on Peter flipping the messy sandwiches out of the pan and onto plates. But, being ten years old didn’t mean he had to be mature, and he kept his head slightly turned so his right ear was toward the Stilinskis.
“I didn’t take my medicine like Jonas didn’t take his medicine this morning.”
“Sweetie! why would you do that?”
“I dunno, I dunno, I’m sorry, mama. I didn’t take ‘em yesterday, either. I jus’ thought I didn’t need ‘em. And now my tummy hurts, and my head hurts, and I’m tired, and I really wanna jus’ go home.”
Mrs. Stilinski must have silently agreed with her son, because the next thing Derek knew she was shouting her goodbye’s to his mom and Peter.
“See y’all rascals bright and early! Be good tonight!”
And with that they were gone, the front door clicking shut behind them.
Derek turned to look at Laura, the unsettled expression on her face gave his sister away. He knows she’s feeling guilt from not checking the human’s heart beat, like they all seemed to do at least once throughout the day. It helped them, picking out the uneven rhythm from everyone else. He feels guilty, too, having sat next to him for six hours.
And maybe he would have been more worried if this were the first time it’d happened.
But it wasn’t, so Derek wasn’t.
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Derek was ten.
Stiles was eight.
Derek was a werewolf.
Stiles was a human with a shoddy heart.
Derek always won playing Mario Kart.
Stiles always lost playing Mario Kart.
Except today, just now, and Stiles was dropping the controller to the ground as he jumped up, hollering and celebrating his way onto the couch, jumping up and down.
“FINALLY!” He cheered, throwing his fist into the air.
“Yeah, yeah, live it up Stilinski. Like it’ll ever happen again”
“You’re jus’ bein’ a sourwolf cause I whooped your butt!”
“Maybe I let you win?”
“No way, I saw how your eyebrows got all angry when I shrunk you and ran over you with Toad to get to first.”
Stiles closed his eyes, doing a little shimmy on the arm of the couch. Derek rolled his eyes, turning around to start a rematch without Stiles knowing so he’d have to scramble to catch up. As his Bowser rocketed out into first place, he smirked.
Before he could even wonder why Stiles hadn’t shrieked in protest and fought to get to his controller, he felt the loud whump of a body hitting the ground, something crashing right after.
Derek spun around on his knees, eyes shining gold in his startled state, flicking around where Stiles had been until they landed on where Stiles was.
Passed out, on the floor, the end-table lamp shattered by his head, blood slipping down his stark white forehead.
Derek leaned over him, his hands hovering and shaking over the still body, not sure if he was supposed to move Stiles, and he knew he really should have listened to Mrs. Stilinski instead of Laura’s conversation about- oh god, he couldn’t even remember.
“MOM!” He yelled, backing up from Stiles, already hearing his mother’s footsteps, she probably had been coming since the second the lamp shattered, her expression turning from aggravated to alarmed when her son howled her name.
“Derek, honey, get back, give him some space.” Talia calmly spoke, pressing a hand against the younger boy’s chest, waiting for his heartbeat to get back to it’s not so normal pace. She heaved out a sigh of relief, sitting back on her haunches, turning tile’s head to examine the cut on his forehead.
“I didn’t know what to do, I should have listened, I’m sorry, mom. I shouldn’t of let him on the couch.” Derek muttered helplessly, bowing his head down in apology.
“It’s not so bad, when he comes back to, Derek, don’t make a big deal about it. He might have a concussion, so don’t let him fall asleep until Mrs. Claudia gets here, okay?”
Talia sat with her son, the gold bleeding out of his eyes until they were their normal hazel. and smiled down at Stiles when he woke back up. He sat up slowly, confused like always, mumbling incoherently to himself.
“Hey, sunshine.” Talia cooed, “took a pretty mighty fall there.”
Stiles eyes were heavy, and Derek knew he was usually groggy after an episode, but he tried his best to smile at him, even if he was still freaking out on the inside. “Think you can kick my butt in Mario Kart again?”
“Yeah D’rek, can’t wait t’make you cry like the puppy you are.” Stiles slurred out the taunt, shifting from Talia, feeling at the blood in his eyebrow. He wiped at it with the back of his sleeve, watching Talia go to the nearest bathroom to grab him the first aid kit. After he was all patched up, he grinned smug and wide at Derek, taking his spot back in front of the Nintendo, taking the screen off pause and squawking when he realized Derek had started without him. “Hey butthead! That’s cheating!”
Derek smiled the best he could, giving Stiles sometime to catch up before continuing on to beat him once again.
They play video games for a few more hours, Claudia finally getting back to the Hale house. Talia whispers what had happened earlier, and Claudia nods and accepts in in a way no mother should have to, bracing her face with a smile before scooping her son up.
The mother’s both agree that Stiles can come back tomorrow, if the two boys both promised to go to bed without a fight. Stiles agreed quickly, rambling about how tired he was with several different examples to compare with.
Like more tired than a bat in the day time...or maybe a bird with no feet so it can’t ever land... I bet they get real tired..
Stiles went home, his mother giving her own weird comparisons of sleepy things, and Derek helped his mother clean up the lamp before trudging off to his room and going to sleep.
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Stiles doesn’t come back.
And when Derek finds out it’s because Mrs. Stilinski passed away in some freak accident, he knows Stiles isn’t coming back.
He goes to the funeral with his family, uncomfortable with all the strangers, all the terrible scents his nose picks up.
When he finds Stiles, he’s hiding behind a tree, eyes red and nose running, his sleeve already caked with snot. And Derek, he doesn’t know what to do, he’s too young to understand how hard it is to lose someone so close.
But, Stiles is even younger, and he just lost half of his world. He’s too young to have to understand how hard this is.
So, when he pitches forward and Derek catches him, he doesn’t mind letting the boy cry into his shoulder, because he can’t go to anyone else, because his dad is too busy being strong for the few relatives Stiles has out there.
And when Derek says goodbye after the service, he hadn’t known it’d be years before he saw Stiles again.
Before he saw his best friend again.
Before Stiles never came back.
Before Derek left behind his pack.