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He could feel the soft material against his skin, well-thought, delicate and – right. Just right. He was trying to do the buttons, but his fingers wouldn't still, moving like they were trying to run away from him, find something else to hold onto. He rubbed them down the length of his trousers, trying to find some kind of stability, get rid of the clamminess in his palms, dry whatever was pouring out of him.
He thought of his mother – because what else was he supposed to do. He could almost hear her voice, telling him the story of how they'd fallen in love, how he would find that too, someday, and it'd be the greatest accomplishment of his life – although, he'd done nothing to seek it out, or deserve it. He breathed in, and he could smell her in the perfume carefully applied to his shirt, he could feel her in the hands doing his buttons for him and – he wondered if he could just reach out and hold her, if he stayed with his eyes closed, would she always feel so achingly close, would she be there again. Just this once.
She probably would have loved this. Would have helped plan it and everything. She always did have this quirky, mischievous hint to her that his father never quite picked up on. Or maybe he had, but lost that too, when he lost her. Stiles could never really tell, would never know this person that his dad once was. Or the one he would have been, if he –
" Okay, are you ready for this?"
" Of course I'm not ready for this, what the hell, Scott? I wasn't prepared for this. You know how much I hate surprises, how could you let this happen?" Stiles circled his fingers around Scott's arms, shook him a little maniacally. But Scott – bless his heart, the ever patient, ever supportive Scott- just laughed, gripping his friend back, grounding him.
" You'll be fine. It isn't a big deal, you two have been together for what, ten years now?"
" That's – that's nowhere near the point here. This is marriage. I – I was supposed to be visiting dad, that's it. A wedding was not part of the plan!"
" It's safe to say, he's slightly freaking out." Scott said over Stiles' shoulder, and then the sound of his laughter was dissolving into Derek's and Stiles was turning towards him and –
" Okay, this is just - absurd. Absolutely ridiculous. How – how are you this good looking right now?" Derek rolled his eyes, bit down on his lip to keep from smiling, as he tugged at the nearest thing of Stiles' he could touch, and pulled him into his arms.
" If you're done, come here." Stiles collapsed into him rather ungracefully, but that was nothing new. There were very few things about Stiles that were graceful. It was part of the reason why Derek loved him so much, was always so fascinated by this – this clumsy, unco-ordinated entity that made him laugh until his stomach started hurting. That ugly laughing that no one was allowed to see but Stiles.
" You look – wow, you look incredible." Derek leaned down slightly, pecking Stiles' lips, before letting him bury his face back into his chest, an endearing blush rising across his skin.
" Seriously, Derek, how did you even come up with all of this?" Humor dispersed away from his tone, left him sounding uncharacteristically serious.
" You don't want to get married?"
" Of course, I do, that's not the problem here."
" Then, what is it?"
" And that's my cue to make a quiet, uncomfortable exit." Scott said under his breath, brushing past them with an encouraging pat to each of their backs.
" We're at a hospital, Derek. My dad is sick and I just – I barely managed to take those few days off work, and get down here to see him. I can't just get married, I'm not ready. I love you but it's not the time or the place. And I – this is not how I pictured it, Derek. I want to do this right." Derek's eyebrows furrowed, confused and slightly offended that Stiles would think he would be careless about something like this. But Stiles' eyes were drowned with things that terrified Derek half to death, and his lips were quivering like he was holding something back, and Derek was trying to not think of how marrying him distressed Stiles almost into a full blown panic attack.
" Okay, Stiles, you don't have to do this. We don't have to get married, today, or – ever, not if it scares you like that."
" It's not marriage that scares me." Stiles groaned, rubbing his hands across his face and just burying what he could into his palms.
" It's not? Okay, now, you lost me."
" It just – it feels final. Like, it's loaded with a goodbye that I – I just can't lose him yet, Derek. I can't, and – what if he has nothing else to live for? What if this is what has been stopping him from going away? I – I still need him, I'm always going to need him. Look at me, I can't do any of it without him. I can't even be trusted to, I'm bound to fuck something up, and if he's not there then – then what? What am I supposed to do?" Derek moved, inched closer – because of course he would – he put a hand to Stiles' shoulder, and when the trembling wouldn't stop, he put the other, held on with all his might, wishing he could do the same for the sheriff, maybe keep him there too. Stiles' breathing sounded so much like cries, as Derek rested his forehead against his, breathed as deeply as he could, knowing that Stiles would try to follow.
" I'm scared of losing him too. Scared of losing any bits of you that will go with him. But, Stiles, he's almost seventy years old. He lived a full life because of you. And for the longest time, he talked about nothing else but your wedding day and which song should play for your father-and-son dance."
" He can barely move at all. That isn't going to happen. We can't have that." Derek closed his eyes before Stiles' tears could fall away from his eyelashes and break something more in him.
" I know, baby. I know. But, I can move, and I'm going to dance with you all night long. Forever, if you really want to. Whatever you need. You know that. I'm right there with you."
Stiles thought of all the times Derek did things for him, wondered if it'd always be like that, if he'd always have to work around all the scattered pieces of Stiles, would always have to compromise and reason and give. He didn’t want him to have to run out one day, to regret being with someone who was so.. inadequate, incomparable to all that Derek was, all that he needed in a partner. He didn't know how to tell him that after all this time, he still felt like he could never be enough, could never deserve such a steady, consistent, reliable source of reassurance and safety, mostly because he'd never know what to do with it, would never put it into the use it was meant for. Stiles was just really fucking scared of killing him too, or killing something in him or – just of the mere possibility of him dying. Leaving. Withering away.
" What are you thinking now?" Derek brushed his nose against Stiles', planted a kiss by his furrowed eyebrows, before letting his forehead fall back onto his.
" I'm thinking that I love you. So much." Derek's smile was something straight out of a dream. Stiles wondered if it'd ever get old. He decided that it probably wouldn't. Everything about Derek would always feel brand new.
" Good, because I love you too. What else?" Stiles sighed, contemplative, exhausted.
" I'm also thinking that we have no plan here. We're winging our wedding. I mean, I'm all for spontaneous decisions and keeping things fresh, but this just feels like we're pushing it." Derek laughed, eyes squeezed shut, his figure trembling against Stiles but never detaching.
" We're not winging anything. I've got it all figured out. You really think I'd be careless with something like this?"
" What the hell? What do you mean you've got it all figured out?"
" It means," Derek's lips fell against Stiles', stayed there, " that you need to trust me." Another kiss. " I've got this, Stiles." And another.
" What about Cora? All our friends?"
" They've been in John's room all day." Stiles' eyes widened, as he put his hands to Derek's chest, tried to enforce some kind of distance before he lost his train of thought completely.
" All of them?"
" Yes."
" How the fuck are they letting us do this?"
" Melissa cleared all the paperwork with the hospital. I told you, just trust me."
" Stop doing that, I can't think when you're so devastatingly close and delicious."
" Delicious?" Derek stilled, laughed again, as Stiles detangled their limbs, stepped slightly away from him, rolling his eyes despite the amusement glowing across his features.
" I'm serious, Derek, what if we're not ready for this? What if marriage is the wrong move right now?"
" Does it feel wrong to you?" Derek tilted his head to the side, questioning and curious.
" No, but what if it does later? What if we make each other miserable? What if we regret ever meeting one another?"
" That will never happen, Stiles." Derek shook his head, appalled, certain in ways Stiles never could be.
" How do you know that? How can you be so sure?"
" Because I've been miserable before and it never has been with you. So if I have to feel that again, be that person, then I'd rather be miserable with than without you. I love you, it's as simple as that. I love you, Stiles, and I will continue to love you for a long, long time. Possibly forever. Probably well beyond that too. At the very least until we're in our sixties."
" Yeah?" Stiles' voice wavered, suffocated by all the things crashing inside him, piling up, almost filling him up and overflowing.
" It's been years, Stiles, I must be doing something wrong if you still don't know this." Stiles could hear the humor he was carefully inducing into his words, could see the lightness around his eyes, but he was suddenly struck with guilt, for not believing, not trusting, for still fearing.
" But – what if, I don't know, I lose all my hair and turn bald?"
" Remember your egg-headed buzzcut from school? Doesn't sound that different to me."
" Okay but my nose hairs could get long enough to poke you every time we kiss, then what?"
" Then nothing. I'm going to love you all the same."
" Even if I – "
" Stiles, there's nothing you can say, no alternation of the question that will change my answer. What is this really about?" Irritation was starting to wrinkle around Derek's features, settle into something like frustration.
" It's – I mean,"
" You don't have to do this. We, I can send everybody away, shut down this whole thing. If that's what you want. I just thought it's been long enough, I thought I'd do this for you and for John, but if – I don't know, if you don't want to get married, then we don't have to. I don't – " Derek started turning away from Stiles, missing the horror widening his eyes, his parted lips forming around silent words that wouldn't come out.
" Derek,"
" We can spend the time with your father like we planned, it's fine, I don't even know why I did all of this, I'm not even sure I believe in marriage or – "
" No, Derek, stop,"
" What was I thinking, I don't know how to do this, how to be this person, in a relationship with someone, an actual human being with needs and fears and desires and – "
" I don't want to be my dad." Derek halted. So did everything else, as Stiles' chest rose and fell, hungry and desperate and so incredibly scared.
" What?"
" You don't believe in marriage?"
" Stiles."
" Right. Yeah, sorry, divergence isn't the way to go about this. I just – dad was in love once too, right? And they got married and made all the same promises of forever and eternal happiness and – being there, through everything, for at least one lifetime. But, mum's lifetime was shorter than dad's, Derek, and she – she left."
" Stiles – "
" No. Just, let me get this out." Stiles looked like a coil, willing to snap. His figure was knotted around the edges, trying to keep from coming apart at the seams, twitching with worry and impatience and fear, and Derek just didn't know how to make it better, how to take it away from him.
" Dad used to say, nothing ever hurt as much as that did. He said that even on his happiest days, it still felt like he could start crying, if he really let himself go. And, my dad is a badass, you know that, but he barely made it through. Sometimes, it feels like he didn't. Like what came out of that hospital room, what I took home from that graveyard, it wasn't really my dad. Not completely. So. I'm not like him, I can’t – how am I meant to survive something like that if it were to happen? How wrong would I look, or, feel? It's not that you can't be that person for me, it's – it's me. I'm the one who can't be a person at all, if anything was to happen to you. I'm all out on grief, Derek, especially after – " And then he was suffocating on the mere thought of almost losing his dad too. And Derek was crashing into him, surrounding him, holding him so together, he started to forget how apart he actually felt.
" You're a fucking idiot, Stiles. Do you really think them not being married would have made it hurt less? It's not about marriage. Your dad loved your mum. That’s why it broke his heart to lose her so soon. It's also why it broke your heart to lose her, broke mine to lose my family and – Erica and Boyd. Love and pain come from the same place, Stiles, they fill the same space, and titles never ease any of it. I don't think I loved you less before we got engaged, and I don't think I'll love you more because you're my husband. I'm just – I'll just love you, Stiles. And it'll be enough reason for me to endure the pain that comes with it." Derek shrugged, defeated, resigned.
" I'm sorry. I love you, I – I'm sorry, Derek."
Stiles thought of his wheeled bed when he was seven, how it wouldn't still beneath his trembling weight, for weeks after his mother had passed. He thought of his father ripping the wheels away, one wheel at a time, how unbalanced it looked until it was crashing into the ground, a shapeless, motionless heap. He circled his arms around Derek and willed them to find some form of steadiness there, as he buried his face into Derek's shoulder and tried not to cry.
" It's okay. You don't have to be. It's okay, Stiles."
" I'll do better. I promise, I – I'm going to try to be better, Derek. Just be patient with me."
" Shh, I will be. Whatever you need. It's okay, it's going to be okay."
" Let's get married." Stiles pulled his head away, felt Derek's hand falling onto his cheek, a cautious smile forming around his lips.
" You don't have to."
" I want to."
" Yeah?" And the smile widened so much, it looked almost painful. Stiles brushed his lips against Derek's, nodding with a breathless yeah, before kissing him again.
Derek moved back into the sheriff's room, letting Lydia and Scott out to help Stiles with the final touches. He was trembling again, eyes seeking out all possible exits although he would never do that to Derek. Not really, it was just reassuring to know he could. Scott fixed his tie while Lydia fixed his hair, and then it was time to walk into the room. Stiles whispered about how nauseous he was, how he was about to throw up everywhere, and Scott laughed all the way into the sheriff's room, where Derek was standing by his bedside, along with Cora and what looked like a pastor. All the people they loved were scattered around the room, looking joyful despite the somber atmosphere around them, and wow, Stiles found himself unsurprisingly emotional. In a good way.
" Hey old man." Stiles leaned over his father's figure, hiding his eyes before they fell on something he couldn't quite handle. His father's hands fell onto his shoulders, patted kindly, his chest rumbling with groggy laughter.
" Took you long enough, we thought you eloped or something."
" Gotta be honest, I did consider it." Stiles pulled away, saw his father's eyes closed with laughter, all his wrinkles tightening with humor and Stiles couldn't help but think that it wasn't so bad at all, for this to be the last he'd see of him.
" Such a dick. Come over here, brother-in-law, the pastor needs to officiate this before going back to work." Cora tugged at Stiles' arm, pulled him into a quick hug, before standing him in the middle of the room, in front of Derek, who took his shaky hands and squeezed. That grin was still to fall away from his face.
" Ready?" Derek mouthed soundlessly, nodding at Stiles in silent encouragement. And for the first time, Stiles felt like maybe he was. So he nodded back.
They exchanged their idea of vows, with an emotionally constipated Derek and an irrationally overwhelmed Stiles, but it was perfect. It was everything they were supposed to be. Almost everybody cried as the pastor announced them husbands, patting their backs, before heading back to the hospital's church.
" Time for your first dance." Melissa said, raising the sound of the built in speakers in the room that were playing the hospital's calm music on a loop.
" That's what we're dancing to?" Stiles laughed, feeling Derek trembling with laughter by his side.
" Jesus, mum, turn that off, we've got this."
So, Scott took out his guitar, while Kira and Lydia handled the vocals, and they started singing the sheriff's wedding song, which Claudia used to hum to Stiles every time he got too restless. Melissa sat by John, her arms sprawled over his shoulders, and her head resting against his. Isaac and Malia were drumming on random objects, while Chris and Cora shook pill bottles and pretended it sounded kind of like maracas. They didn't, but that was okay, because Stiles moved a hand around Derek to cover his face and they could all still hear the cries falling past his lips. They could see the unhinged motion of his body that was still held by Derek, as he struggled to make the movement seem more graceful, almost collected.
Stiles started calming down some time between the second and third song, running a hand down his face, before he pulled away, staring up at Derek with something behind his eyes that he couldn't quite decipher. Derek smiled kindly, rested his lips against Stiles' forehead, and continued to slowly sway despite the music's varying tempos.
" Hey, husband." Derek whispered, earning an instantaneous smile from Stiles.
" Hey back."
" Are you feeling okay? No end-of-the-world tingles? No visions of looming doom?"
" Shut up," Stiles snorted, moving back slightly to find Derek's lips, brushing against them just as the sound of his laughter dissolved in the air between them.
" I love you."
" I love you too. Thank you, Derek."
" You're thanking me for marrying you?"
" No, not that."
" Then what?"
" For, you know, thinking of all of this. Doing it for me when I was too scared to do it myself. Being such a rockstar through it all. I just – I can't believe you thought of me, and my dad, and. I don't know what to say, but you've given me something that I can never repay you. I hope you know how much this means to me. How much you mean to me." Derek blinked in disbelief, his head moving into a minute shake, as he leaned in to kiss Stiles again.
Then Cora stole Derek away and Stiles danced with Melissa, while everyone else danced around them. Lydia managed to sneak a dance or two in there. Scott helped the sheriff into an almost sitting position, as Stiles took his arms and swayed to whatever song Malia was blasting on her phone, after everyone had given up on their instruments.
They ended up munching on cake leftovers for hours, ties and heels disregarded, talking and laughing and just – being. Stiles couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his father laugh so much.
" So, kid, any plans for the honeymoon?"
" What do I know? Mr. Hale?" Stiles cocked a humorous eyebrow, receiving an equally amused eye-roll, as Derek directed his attention to the sheriff.
" We'll be staying here for a while, as planned, and then when everything is settled, and if Stiles feels like it, we can go away for a few days. Just the two of us." Derek slowly looked back at Stiles, eyes questioning, seeking an acceptance they'd gotten a long, long time ago. Stiles softly smiled, his cheeks heating slightly.
" Good then, we'll get some time with you. I missed you boys."
" We missed you too, pops. Don't worry, you're not getting rid of us any time soon."
Things passed through the sheriff's eyes, and he blinked, to keep them away. Stiles caught them though, saw them because he knew his father, knew how his eyes looked, knew all the spots and where the blues ended and the whites began. There was something foreign drowning his eyes with unfamiliarity, with desperation.
" You okay? You're not in any pain, are you?"
" When you get to my age, something is always hurting, Stiles. I'm fine though, don't worry." The sheriff squinted one eye opened, patting his son's hand that was closest to him, and letting him latch on the way he used to, years and years ago.
" Yeah, okay."
" So, any plans for the living situation? Kids maybe?"
" Kids? Okay, are you aiming for a panic attack? Cause it's coming if you keep this going, Jesus Christ dad, we've barely been married a couple of hours. A bit too soon for kids talk, isn't it?"
" Not when you've been doing it for as long as you two have." The sheriff shrugged nonchalantly. Stiles' jaw fell opened, his eyes widening rather comically, giving Derek something to react to other than the clear jab at their sex-life.
" What are you giving him, Melissa? I don't think it's any of the good stuff."
" Yeah, because I have to be on drugs to be aware of my son's sex-life. What, did you really think I believed those almost daily falls in the shower? Or how you suddenly couldn't study unless you're blasting that music as loud as possible? Music you've never even been into, mind you. I was in the force most my life, kid, you should give me more credit than that. And don't even get me started on – "
" Oh my God, dad, shut up, what are you doing? What are you trying to prove here? That I'm sexually active?"
" That you two are sexually active, with each other. And have been for a long time."
" Derek, why aren't you helping?" Stiles was looking between Derek and his father, then around the room for someone to spare him the horror of the situation, but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and his obvious humiliation.
" I mean, the man isn't lying."
" Oh my God. I hate you. Both of you." Derek held Stiles' hand over the sheriff's legs, tangling their fingers together. He lifted his hand to his laughing lips, leaving a tender peck.
" You really don't."
" Okay, fine, maybe not." Stiles groaned, letting his father take his head and leave a kiss of his own, melting away any grudge he was trying to cling to.
The sheriff ended up falling asleep soon after, fading and returning, trying to be present, more responsive and focused, so scared of missing things, of being left out or – forgotten. Stiles and Derek spent their first night as a married couple on the couch in his room, wrapped around one another, threading into all the empty spaces framing their figures, filling them up. Scott came back the next morning with a change of clothes and some breakfast. So they spent the second day like the first. And the third. And the fourth.
One week after their wedding, Stiles went home with Scott to take a shower and get his father a burger and some curly fries, because what the hell did they have to lose anymore. He even added a strawberry milkshake, and hoped Melissa wouldn't ban them out of the hospital for good. He walked down the hallway with Scott and Isaac, to find Derek standing outside his father's room, pacing like he was bracing himself for something.
Stiles didn't stop, until he was reaching for the door and Derek was stopping him, shaking his head silently, tearfully, and then he just – broke.
" Where’s my dad, Derek? Why won't you let me in? What the fuck is going on?" Derek circled his arms around Stiles, absorbed his fussing and his fighting and his thrashing, twisting tighter around him, surrounding more bits of him as he wore him down, shushing and whispering and breaking along.
Stiles thought of the first horror movie he'd ever accidentally watched. It was about a massive snake that wrapped around its victims and broke them from the inside out. He kind of felt like that, like Derek was wrapping and folding and squeezing the life right out of him. Like he could physically feel the shattering of his body, all the pieces poking holes into him. He wondered if Derek could hear the sound of him snapping too, past the screaming and the crying and the suffocating – which he didn't realize were coming out of him.
He ended up on the floor, almost completely shielded by Derek, with his spilled milkshake soaking through his clothes, taunting him for taking too long, fussing over stupid things as if it made a difference at all. As if it kept him there, just a little bit longer, enough for Stiles to come and – stop him from going. Or go with him. He didn't know. He just wanted more time. Wanted his dad.
Derek helped him back to his feet – seemed to be doing that a lot. He left his hands on his shoulders, tried to ease him into what he would be seeing inside that room. Derek opened the door, waited for him to find the momentum to move, to enter the room. He did, eventually, and he swore the world tilted around its axis, was thrown completely off balance. As was he.
Derek told Melissa to give them some privacy, give Stiles some time, a chance to say goodbye. But Stiles had forgotten how to, couldn't remember what came first or last, never figured out how to do that. So, he threw himself over his father's motionless figure, and told himself he was still reacting to him, that it wasn't his own trembling coursing through his father the way it had willed his wheeled bed into motion.
Stiles didn't know how long it took him to start crying again. Didn't know how Derek managed to get him off his dad, collect what was left of him, and guide him out of the room, until they removed all the machines and cleaned him up properly, one last time. Stiles was kind of out of it, barely there at all, so every time someone tried to get too close to Derek, he put a hand up, said he was fine, that he had to keep it together, take it off Stiles' shoulders even if it all fell on his. This was Stiles' tragedy, his heartbreaking loss. Derek's grief could wait.
Stiles was secluded, distant and quiet in ways he never had been before. Derek let him, gave him all the space he needed, wished he could empty the world, pile everything else into a corner and just – let him be. Instead, he helped organize the funeral he thought John deserved, stuck by Stiles all through it, even when he felt far away and unattainable. He touched carefully, spoke softly, and begged for him to come back to him.
Right after the funeral, was the first time that Stiles had spoken to Derek directly, eye contact and all. It was to tell him that he wouldn't go home with him, that he needed to go on a walk, alone. Derek struggled with that one, wanted to resist, to fight, but he didn't. He nodded, leaned in for a kiss, and drove home with Scott instead. Everyone else was waiting for them at home anyway, and if Derek had to be there so that Stiles wouldn't, then so be it.
The house didn't look different at all – Derek didn't know why he expected it to. But it was as serene as it always had been, aged and vintage-looking. You could tell there had been many lifetimes spent in that house. He tried not to think of that one less lifetime, ending so abruptly, fading like it'd never been, as he pushed through the front door, searched the surroundings for – he didn't know what exactly, he kind of just wanted to feel the difference in the walls, see what it all looked like without John pouring small portions of life into its cracks.
Stiles came home that night and crawled into bed without a word. It all just became a bit much, as Derek selfishly yielded, wrapping around Stiles when he started feeling like he was reeling, caught in a spiral of grief and devastation and a kind of helplessness he hadn't felt around Stiles in a long, long time. He didn't know what to do. He never did. This had always been Stiles' thing; the understanding of human's feelings and how to file each of them away, how to be kind and respectful and be exactly what each person needed at their lowest moment. Derek wished so desperately he had learned that from him, as he was once again struck with the reality of how much better Stiles was than him as a person.
The next day, Stiles woke up and made them breakfast. He tried out something like a smile, but it didn't sit well across his features, looked insincere. Derek didn't know how to approach him, didn't know if he should. Scott didn't either. Or Melissa. Nobody knew what to do with Stiles and Derek hated how John had left them when he was probably the only person who could have done anything about this. He would have known how to re-anchor him. Only, he'd been what had torn through him, had devastated him something terrible.
" Stiles?"
" Hmm,"
" Are you, feeling okay?" Derek watched Stiles' hand as it stilled by his mouth, after having another forkful of eggs that he hadn't started chewing yet. Stiles wordlessly nodded, forcing another uncomfortable smile, before refocusing on his plate.
" You know I'm here for you, right? I might not be the best for – "
" I'm fine, Derek. So, when are you heading back home?"
" You want to go home already? The time you've taken off isn't even over yet."
" Well, we no longer have a reason to stay here, do we? So we might as well just go back to our normal lives."
Derek was.. confused, to say the least, as he stared at Stiles with furrowed eyebrows, willing something to give, to fall through the cracks.
" It's only been a few days, Stiles. I think you should give yourself some more time, figure out what you want to do with the house and the – "
" We'll sell it all. Or give it to Scott or something. I don't care." Stiles stood, took his half-full plate into the kitchen. Derek followed.
" Are you sure you don't want to keep any of it? As a memory, or,"
" A memory?" Stiles scoffed, appalled, enraged, " Because we need more of those right now."
" That's not what I meant."
" Then what did you mean, Derek? Why do you keep pushing this?" Stiles threw his plate into the sink, unhearing to the sound of its shattering. Probably because it always sounded like something was breaking to him, he could still hear the pieces straying further and further away.
" Because you're not thinking straight and you're not letting me in, Stiles! You can't keep making those haphazard decisions and – "
" Kind of like the haphazard decision to agree to marry you? Yeah, definitely regretting that one."
" Wow, Stiles. Classy. Very mature." Derek threw his hands in the air in defeat, retreating from the kitchen. He couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to walk away from Stiles. The last time Stiles had let him. Everything just felt all wrong.
Derek stayed in bed for the rest of the day. Stiles crawled in at night, whispered his goodnight, I love you and turned away before Derek could latch on, so he didn't. He slept on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling, following the sound of Stiles' breathing that didn't even out. He probably couldn't sleep either.
It was a week later when they finally stopped tiptoeing around each other, stopped walking through the house like it was empty around them, like they couldn't sense the other's presence. Stiles was being cold and hateful and Derek just had enough.
" It's my house, Derek, you don't get a say in what I do or don't do with it. It's my fucking house, not yours, not ours. Mine."
" You know what? I'm not doing this with you anymore. I'm stopping this before either of us says something we can't take back. I'm going to take a shower, and go stay in a hotel for a few days, to defuse this situation. I'll call Cora, see if she can come stay with you, because regardless of all this bullshit you've been spewing at me, I still don't want you to be alone. That is, if you don't mind, of course. Since, this is your house and all."
Derek shook his head when Stiles' lips started to part.
He took the shower he promised, taking his sweet time with it, trying to postpone the inevitable goodbye. And when he walked down the stairs, his bag in hand, Stiles was sitting on the dinner table, still looking pissed off at the world, yet there was something sad around his eyes. Derek didn't know how to word his goodbye without it sounding like an end, like curtains falling on them, so he walked out without saying anything at all.
Derek went to Scott's house, giving him the updates while making a few phone calls to Cora who agreed to stay with Stiles for a while, but didn't know if she could promise not to bring any of it up. She always did have trouble holding back.
Melissa held Derek exceptionally tight that day, before he left to stay at the hotel like promised, because he could use some time for himself, and he mostly didn't want to burden anyone or discomfort them. He kind of didn't know how to stay with someone that wasn't Stiles, so staying alone felt like the safer option.
Derek's body started giving out, because that was what it did, when he was compressed and unable to let any of it out. So he decided to go for a run because overworking an exhausted body felt like the way to go about all of this. But his feet pushed into the ground until they came to a screeching halt in front of the Stilinski home, which was surrounded by police cars and ambulances and fire fighting trucks and there was a layer of smoke blanketing everything with a sense of doom and – there were no reds and oranges and yellows but Derek could see them, could hear the screams again, only this time, Stiles' was overshadowing them all, dying along.
Derek inched closer, watching as they loaded his sister into the back of one of the ambulances, with an oxygen mask around her smudgy face. It was her second fire. One was never meant to witness one of those, let alone two. He saw Melissa talking to the paramedics, trying to help, and Scott talking to the sheriff's co-workers, and then – he saw Stiles, by the front porch, disheveled and almost completely hidden by smoke and filth but – alive. Stiles was still alive. And when he started moving his eyes, finding Derek's and staring back, Derek's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and darkness so suddenly enveloped him as he tipped forward and collapsed.
He came to with a startle, a gasp, too tired to lift his figure and awake from all the nightmares blurring into his reality. There was a hand on him, by his forehead, sliding against his skin, and when he tilted his head to the side, Stiles was there, all the anger carved out of him, leaving him simply looking sad. Like a kid who'd lost something. And boy, did he.
" Stiles."
" So I come out of a fire, and you're the one who passes out."
" Are you okay?" Stiles moved a nonchalant hand, disregarding Derek's concern, his fingers still touching against his skin, leaving goosebumps in their track.
" You were burning up. Blood-pressure too low. But Melissa fixed you up. She said you're going to be just fine. Haven't you been eating?"
" Stiles, wh- what happened? Is Cora – "
" She's okay, don't worry. Her healing kicked in, in the ambulance, she was back to normal before she even got to the ER, but they checked her over anyway. She's probably resting up now, with Malia or – someone."
" How did that fire start? Did – "
" I'm sorry, Derek." Stiles released a trembling breath, his features crumpling, his face collapsing onto itself.
" It's okay. Nothing happened."
" My dad died, I'm pretty sure that overthrows your previous claim." Stiles chuckled, all self-depreciative and bitter. Derek squeezed the hand that had fallen onto his.
" I know. I'm so sorry, Stiles."
" I just – I never got the hang of healthy coping mechanisms and or just – coping in general. I don't know how to do it. And I took it out on you but I didn't mean to. I'm sorry for being such an asshole, Derek." Tears were quietly falling against Stiles' cheeks, and Derek fought all the instincts itching to wipe them away.
" It's okay. I'm not mad, Stiles, I get it, it's okay."
" It's not. It's not okay, Derek, and I – I don't know how to make it feel okay again. I know how much he meant to you, okay? I know I wasn't the only one who lost him and – I'm a fucking mess. I said all those horrible things to you and – "
" Baby, stop. I don't care what you said. You were angry. I was too, for a long time. I understand. I will never hold any of it against you."
" I don't want to be angry anymore. I'm tired, Derek. I'm so, so tired." And he choked on a sob, and another, and then he was folding onto himself, then onto Derek. Derek tried spreading his arms as wide as they could possibly go, then some, not wanting to miss any of his pieces, or let any bit of him go.
Stiles ended up squeezing his way onto the tiny hospital bed, melting into Derek's side, finally - God, finally - allowing him to hold and touch and smother the misery right out of him.
" You know, I – I was with him, when, uh, when it happened." Stiles' breath hitched, his fingers stilling against Derek's chest, for barely a few seconds, before they resumed their motion.
" I went to open the curtains, and wake him up, but – he wouldn't wake up, and I didn't know why. I didn't – didn't think to check his vitals or his breathing, I just yelled out for Melissa, told her to wake him up, kept asking over and over why he – why he wouldn't. But then, I heard your voice down the hall, and something inside me just.. knew what to do. I walked out of the room, closed the door behind me, and – waited. For you. I couldn't – I didn't want you to see him like that, to have to – to have to find him."
" Derek," Stiles lifted his head when the rise and fall of Derek's chest started moving out of rhythm, clumsy and off-balance.
" I lost a lot of people before, Stiles. A lot. But for some reason, this one just.. stung a little more than I expected it to." Derek squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head like he'd get rid of all the images of the piling bodies he'd held and lost.
" I need you to know that there's nothing that I wouldn't have done, to have been able to keep him for you, to – to spare you."
" I know that. I love you. I know, Derek." Stiles nodded, dropped his lips to Derek's chin, then down his neck, all the back to his chest, where his heart was beating like it was being chased away by all the other things filling up the cavities of his ribcage.
" When I saw that fire, I just thought – the smell and the – the colors, Stiles, all those colors I –"
" Hey, hey, stop. You're getting yourself worked up. This wasn't like before. I was just trying to make a Sunday roast, and I messed it up. It was a minor house fire, Derek. Nothing too bad. Things just got out of hand because it is – was, the sheriff's home." Derek didn't miss Stiles' stutter, but it looked like it hurt and Derek didn't want to pour salt into all his open wounds.
" A Sunday roast? You could have sold the house instead of trying to burn it down, Stiles, Jesus." Derek's lips quirked softly into a smile, his fingers tightening around Stiles, who snorted, shaking his head in amusement, with a light shove to Derek's chest. He let his head rest back into place.
" I don't think I want to sell the house."
" You don't?"
" No, I don't. It won't be cleared for a few days, but after, we can maybe fix the damages, lock it up, and go on that trip you promised. I think it'll be good for us."
" God, I missed you, Stiles."
" I missed you too. And I'm sorry. For all of it." Derek leaned down and Stiles inched forward and their lips met in a graceful, kind, lingering kiss.
" It's okay."
" To be fair, I did warn you about needing to maintain your patience with me."
" You did warn me about that, didn't you? Guess I downplayed it. My bad." Derek started laughing and Stiles did too, both of their figures shaking with something nice for once.
" You know I don't regret marrying you, right? I don't regret anything with you. Nothing."
" Good. That's – that's really good to know." And it was, as Derek let out a strangled, relieved, sigh. He didn't know he needed the reassurance until he got it.
" So tell me about that trip, what do you have planned, husband?"
And so he did. He told him everything and then some.