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“So what? Are we just not going to talk about it?” Stiles says, pacing back and forth in front of Derek. He had stormed into Derek’s house moments before, not bothering to knock. Searching the main floor for Derek, he had found said man sitting on the sofa in the den reading; the sight had made Stiles’ blood boil.
Derek doesn't look up from the book in his lap as he replies, “there's nothing to talk about.”
Stiles looks at Derek in shock, his expression morphing into a glare as he takes in the older man in front of him. While Derek seemed relaxed, his posture is stiff and he clutches the book in his hand, causing his knuckles to turn white.
“No,” Stiles announces with a shake of his head, “I am not letting you ignore this!”
“What do you want from me, Stiles?”
“I want you to acknowledge what I said last night.”
“I thought I already had.”
Stiles lets out a harsh laugh; a mixed feeling of sadness and shame hits him and his voice is bitter when he speaks, “no, you didn't. You dismissed it completely and before I could blink, you had jumped out my bedroom window and were gone. I thought we were past you using my window as a door.”
“What do you want from me, Stiles?” Derek repeats.
“The only thing I want is you!” Stiles yells, running his hand harshly through his hair. “Which is exactly what I was trying to say to you last night. I have feelings for you, Derek! Hell, I might even be in lo—“
“Don’t.” Derek says, cutting Stiles off. He places his book down next to him before standing up and walking towards Stiles, his eyes hard and his fists clenched at his sides. “Just don’t.”
“Don’t? Don’t?! Don’t what, Derek?” Stiles exclaims, taking a step towards the older man, shrinking the distance between them until they’re only a few feet apart. “Don’t tell you how I feel? Don’t tell you that you returning to Beacon Hills is one of the reasons I came back after college? Don’t admit that you’re one of the most important people in my life? That I honestly couldn’t imagine my life without you? That the mere thought of you not being around causes my chest to physically ache? What, Derek? Don’t what?”
Derek watches Stiles as he finishes his rant, his chest heaving with adrenaline and anger. It’s the sound of Stiles’ frantic heartbeat ringing in Derek’s ears that makes his eyes widen in realization.
Stiles’ heart didn’t stutter once.
Oh.
Oh.
“You—you’re telling the truth,” Derek says in awe.
Stiles’ eyes soften as he notes the genuine surprise in Derek’s voice.
“Yes, I am.” Stiles steps forward and tentatively takes Derek’s hand in his. “I meant it, Derek. I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a long time.”
Derek looks at their joint hands. “You deserve better.”
Stiles releases Derek’s hand to reach up and touch his cheek, the action forcing Derek to meet his eyes. “Don’t do that. You don’t get to put yourself down like this.” He strokes along Derek’s beard until his fingers rest on the back of Derek’s neck. “You are wonderful, Derek Hale.”
Derek swallows thickly, too overwhelmed to speak. Moments pass in silence as Stiles continues to softly play with the hair on the back of Derek’s neck. Derek closes his eyes as he allows himself to get lost in the feeling of it, revelling in the tenderness of Stiles’ touch, something that he hasn’t experienced in a long time.
“The only question that remains is do you want me?”
The unwavering touch of Stiles’ fingers against his head keeps Derek steady when he opens his eyes, meeting Stiles’ own. Stiles’ gaze remains steady and sure, but Derek can still see the vulnerability underneath. The same insecurity he knows is reflected in his own eyes. He reaches up and places his hand atop Stiles’, which hadn’t stop moving through Derek’s hair, and intertwines their fingers together.
He lifts them to his lips and places a kiss on Stiles’ finger tips as he murmurs, “I do.”