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It was Derek's night to close the bar. Everyone else had gone home and he was stuck cleaning the glasses and plates so that he wouldn't have to do it the next morning before opening again. It was a dark, cold night. The kind of dark that dimmed souls, colored everything in misery. Derek was used to it though. If anything, they were his favorite kind of nights, because most people were too bummed out to leave their homes, meaning that he'd be able to lock up early and go to bed. Which was the best he could hope for these days.
He heard the ding by the door, didn't bother to turn away from the glass in hand.
" We're closed."
" It's just me." Derek's hands did things around the glass in hand. He thought he'd broken it, could feel the shreds piercing through his skin, cutting through him, but when he looked down, his fingers were slightly trembling around the still intact glass.
" Yeah, still closed."
Derek wanted to give himself a pat on the back at the steadiness of his shaky voice.
" Stop being a dick. Grab me a drink, will you?"
Derek learned a long time ago that he couldn’t really say no to Stiles, so he opened a beer for him, blindly put it on the bar, before going back to the sink. He heard the sound of Stiles taking a couple of gulps, before resting the beer back onto the bar.
" So, where's your boyfriend?"
So maybe Derek didn't deserve that pat on the back after all, because he kind of wanted to kick himself then.
" Home, having a boys' night with his friends."
" Huh. And you're not there, because..?"
" Thought I should give him a bit of space, and spend some time with my own friends."
" Friends. That's nice."
Derek went to put a bowl to the side when he accidentally crashed it onto a plate, breaking them both.
" Derek – "
" Why are you here, Stiles?" Derek cut the water off, turning away from the sink and finally allowing himself to take in Stiles for all that he was. And it still – slightly – took his breath away, left him with butterflies he should have been too old for.
" I told you – "
" Yeah. Friends. But you have other friends. Why didn't you go see Scott? Or Lydia? Or literally anyone that isn't me?"
" What's your problem? Why do you always have to be so angry?"
" It's me, don't act like it's ever been any different. It's how I am." Derek scoffed, offended, but also hating how out of control he was feeling.
" Yeah, okay. But why are you overly irritable now? Did something happen?"
Derek allowed himself a moment to breathe, but also to absorb the patience itched in Stiles' features, the openness with which he waited his response out, like he'd take whatever Derek would give and just – run with it. He found something oddly comforting in that, something reassuring, as the rage slowly started dispersing away, leaving him with the general sense of agitation he seemed to carry.
" No," He eventually sighed, " Well. Yes. Something kind of happened, but it's not that big of a deal. It's over anyway so. Whatever." Derek decided to return to the washing and get this night over with.
" And this wouldn't have to do with the witch situation from the other day, would it?" Stiles' voice was as caring as he'd always smelled to Derek - if Derek still had his sense of smell anyway.
" It would." Werewolf powers or not, Derek could still feel the radiating heat of Stiles' body, could paint the aura around him like he could physically see it, " It does." He admitted, hating how relieved he suddenly was, just for speaking to Stiles.
" Do you, want to talk about it?" The uncertainty in Stiles' tone, the weariness, pulled a chuckle out of Derek, as he handed over a glass to Stiles, letting him dry it, while he washed the next one.
" That wouldn't be comfortable for either of us."
" Phew, that's a relief. Who needs talk anyway, when you have booze and years of experience in unhealthy coping mechanisms and repression of trauma?"
Derek side-eyed Stiles, was almost blinded by the innocent grin he was given but in no way deserved.
" I hate the aftertaste of booze, it does nothing for me."
" Oh yeah, you're screwed."
Stiles drained what was left of his beer after taking a few contemplative seconds to think of ways to unscrew Derek, but that train had left the station when his house had burned down along with his family. Maybe even when he had to put his claws into his first love's guts. It was difficult to trace it all back to just one thing. It seemed like Derek's identity was threaded with a series of tragedies and losses and just – shit.
" No, but really, what's going on with you?"
" It just.. it was a lot. I'm having trouble shaking it."
" Cora told me things got really intense after I had to take Scott to the clinic. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help out." The plummeting sensation in Derek's stomach deepened, a sudden stabbing to his heart at the thought of Stiles being there, making everything so much worse.
" It was pretty bad." Derek shrugged, chilled down to his bones.
" Hey, man, it's over, okay? She's dead. You did it. You don't have to worry about it, Derek. You made it out."
Stiles' hands fell onto his, trying to calm the crashing waves of blind, panic, trying to keep him afloat, when he hadn't even realized he'd felt so much like drowning, that he was choking on his own breaths. Stiles turned the water off, refusing to completely detach himself from Derek to do so.
" Okay, we've got that sorted. Are you okay? Huh?" Stiles tilted his head downward, trying to find Derek's dazed eyes, offer some form of grounding. Derek nodded, or at least, tried to move his head into somewhat of a steady motion, willing a shaky breath out.
" You're good at this." Derek acknowledged, with something resembling a smile.
" I distinctively remember you telling me I was good at a bunch of other things too." Stiles wiggled his eyebrows, a mischievous, young glint in his eyes. The following breath that Derek forced out, reformed into something like a laugh. And it was the last one he had to force out, the rest of them came a bit more easily.
" Yeah, those too." Derek looked down at the hands held between Stiles', and how he could barely feel that grip, because it was all so familiar. He knew how to be held by Stiles. Or at least, he used to.
Stiles cleared his throat, kindly pulled his hands away from Derek's, reminded of the worlds that continued to move around them, and how their own no longer revolved around the other. They just couldn't do that anymore.
" We had a good run though, didn't we?" Derek noted, hating how done they had to be with the conversation.
" Yeah. Yeah, we definitely did. Would have been a much longer run if someone didn't think I was too young for their standards but whatever." Stiles' shoulders moved into a shrug, something like a smile curving around his lips. There was no more bitterness behind his words, no more blaming.
" It was never about my standards, Stiles, you know that. If anything, you were so much.. more."
" What do you mean?" Stiles sat back against the bar, tried to make himself comfortable. They'd never had an open conversation about it, not really. They'd yelled and fought and cried and then they'd both just given up. Stiles had always had trouble forgiving that one, even after his friendship with Derek slowly started reviving.
" I mean, the age difference was an issue, sure, but it was never just that. I wasn't in the right headspace to be in a relationship back then. Things were happening on top of one another and I was co-dependent when it came to you. I'd come to you for a kiss or whatever and everything else would just.. slip away. Then as soon as you were gone, I’d be thrown back into it and I wouldn't know what to do. It wasn't healthy. And you were young, and inexperienced, and – it wasn't fair on you. I wanted you to go out into the world and meet people and make friends and just – live. Outside of me, and, all of this. I wanted better things for you, Stiles."
" It shouldn't have mattered, Derek. What you wanted for me? It doesn't matter. I wanted to be with you and that should have been enough. You should have let me make my own calls."
" Maybe. I mean. There are a lot of things that I probably should have done differently. But, it is what it is." Stiles nodded, looking down upon his twitching fingers, until Derek slid another beer towards him, giving him something to wrap around, cling to.
" You never told me any of this."
" Yeah, well. I never told you a lot of things."
" Like what?" There was something genuine about the curiosity in Stiles' eyes. There was always something so.. comforting, about Stiles' acceptance of pretty much anything.
" Like that night your father called me down to the station to help him with a case that almost got all of us killed, including you, even though you never stirred in bed that night. Or how much time I spent outside your house after the nogitsune just to be able to hear your heartbeat, make sure there was nothing wrong with it, or with you. Or, or how loving you made me feel young and full again. I swear, it was the closest thing I've ever felt to my mother's hugs. I don't talk about these things, Stiles, because I don't know how to. But I feel them, so overwhelmingly. I felt all those things for you – because of you. You can't simplify all of this into numbers and age differences. We could never be just about that."
Stiles' eyes widened, and Derek longed for the sound of his speeding heartbeat, wanted to know if he could still chase his breath away slightly, stagger everything inside him, even for a while. But he was no longer an alpha now, or a werewolf at all, and his human hearing did nothing to satisfy his aching for Stiles.
" Oh, uh, wow. I – I didn't know any of this. I thought you just, I don't know, I thought you were having a bit of fun with the awkward highschool kid that no one could believe you'd ever want to spend any time on. I guess. I don't know."
Derek's head moved into immediate shakes, his feet carrying him around the bar, bringing him closer to Stiles.
" You know, that witch really messed with my head. There were moments when I just – she kinda made me want to die again." Derek chuckled self-depreciatingly, remembering all the fights he used to have with Stiles for throwing himself into things, not necessarily willing to kill himself, but not fighting against it either. If it were to happen, he wouldn't have minded it, and oh what a sad thought that was.
" Derek,"
" You helped Stiles. You always do, but this time, I was weak and delirious and you had so much on your plate already. Malia told me about that portion you made, and how much blood you had to put into it, how it almost wiped you out completely. And you did all of that, to save me. Even – even after the break-up and the distance and, that mess. You did it and you stayed there with me. You were the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes, Stiles. I can at least remember that, very vividly too. Yes, people talked when we were together, and almost no one believed we would make it. But I did. I wouldn't have risked it otherwise, Stiles. Don't – you can't ever doubt my love to you. What we had? It was real and it ran deeper than even you and I could ever possibly comprehend. And. I know you have a boyfriend now, and we're friends or whatever, and I'm okay with it. I am. As long as you know that it was never just feel-good-sex for me. Nothing about this was ever that simple. Please, just – if there's one thing you're willing to keep from this time we had together, keep that. Know that. Okay? Please."
Stiles stared at Derek like he was staring through him. Derek didn't doubt that he probably could. But then he softly smiled, nodding his head, and putting his beer in the air to clink it against Derek's soapy glass, that he'd forgotten all about washing.
" Yeah, okay. And, for what it's worth, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you. I at least knew that." He still kind of did too. He believed that there were parts of him that he'd left with Derek, that had morphed into his being and they could no longer tell where Stiles ended and Derek began. He believed that their story was the kind of story that outlasted them and their lives and their times on this earth and it just – lived on. He really did believe that he would never love anyone else like that, probably because it wasn't humanly possible. It never should have been, but it was, with Derek.
Derek gave him the validation he needed, nodding along, with something of a smile, before returning to the sink. Stiles followed, and they both silently finished up the cleaning and washing and sweeping of the place. They were sorting the chairs and tables out when Stiles' boyfriend started calling, wondering where he ran off to and when he planned on coming home. So Derek waved him off, giving up on the tables because the locking up had taken too long and he was incredibly drained by having to not spew everything he felt in Stiles' face.
When Derek fell into his bed that night, he got a text from Stiles, with a ridiculous dog joke that no longer worked since Derek wasn't part of the species but he laughed anyway, although he didn't tell Stiles that. With a goodnight, Stiles, Derek went to sleep, with his mother's voice ringing through the empty spaces in his head, speaking of Gods and angels and universes and he wondered if she would have thought Stiles was an otherworldly being too. She probably would have. After all, Derek didn't believe in much, but he believed in Stiles being some sort of angel sent his way to give him something to cling onto, give him something that would feel like being held. And yeah, that was definitely Stiles. It would always be.