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Derek's washing dishes, facing the open kitchen window above the sink as a little bluebird perches on a branch before it and chirps at him.
Birds never used to do things like that before Stiles came along.
Now woodland creatures encroach all over his land, not at all afraid of his scary wolf eyes, but chirping at him and making their nests in nearby trees and twittering all through the night. That's not all that's happened, the grass has been greener; more fertile with fewer and fewer patches of muddied earth that were there before Stiles came along. Now that he really thinks about it actually, that's happened all over town, poppies springing up along sidewalks where before there was just dirt. In just the space of a few weeks.
Flowers and petals have been blossoming along trees by the road, and more and more people have been talking about how very pretty a place Beacon Hills is. That's the difference, Stiles had said, not arrogantly with having a more powerful fae. Some of the most beautiful places in America are the way they are because of the large number of fae there, ever wonder about all that natural beauty, Der-bear?
Speak of the devil- or the beautiful, angelic fairy- Derek hears the sound of the jeep pulling up and steps to the left to peer out further, watching as the flash of kingfisher blue becomes visible and Stiles hops out.
He's clad in a darker green plaid shirt that blends against the forestry of the preserve, and he's waltzing into Derek's house whistling and tossing his keys onto the dining table.
"You should have seen Bells, Der, she's a vision. I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd have said she was the child of the fairy queen herself."
Derek smiles, shutting off the water and turning around. Stiles' eyes are rimmed with the faintest lilac. "Is that actually a thing?"
Stiles waggles his eyebrows "wouldn't you like to know."
He snorts "I would like to know, actually, if you ever told me anything about fairies." He's not mad though, not really, Stiles has his reasons. Besides, everyday that he knows Stiles, he learns a little more.
"That's why I came over actually," he says, crossing his arms. His wings flicker into view for a second before dissipating, and that means he's nervous. Derek feels proud for knowing that. "I was wondering if this Friday, you and Bells might like to come and watch me to the dew."
"The dew?" Derek blinks; confused.
"Yeah," Stiles waves his hand, leaving a trail of glitter in the air "the dew? The wet stuff on the grass? The annoying condensation on the windows? That's all me, baby. Or it has been, for the last three weeks and two days."
"You actually do that? The...dew?"
"Yup." He replied, popping the p, "wanna see or not? About 4am? The park by the post office?"
Derek thinks there's nothing more alluring than Stiles doing magic, so he nods. "Did Izzy have everything for school?" He asks, taking carrots out of the vegetable tray. He wants to make something healthy but also slightly disgusting for lunch so that the new assistant at the gym will stop taking his food.
"I think so, her backpack seemed pretty heavy." Stiles had been dropping her off at school for the past few days, as soon as she'd seen the jeep and how high it stood off the ground and how much she could see when inside it, she had declared it her carriage. Derek had taken a look at the engine, and fixed up a few things.
"That Jeep is older than me, Stiles." He shook his head "why don't you trade it out for a newer model?"
Stiles chuckled "with what money? Besides, I can't do that. She's my baby," he patted the hood affectionately "my dad bought this back in the day and one day I too shall pass it on."
"What times are you at the gym today?"
"11 till 4,"
Stiles whistled "at least you've got the physique to be a gym instructor. Do you scare the people that you train? You'd scare me."
"Nothing scares you," Derek huffed, and Stiles tilted his head contemplatively.
"No," he said, strangely softly "I get scared."
Derek put down the carrots, stepping towards him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Stiles cleared his throat "of losing...I mean, of anything happening to you, or to Bells, or my dad. Or Scotty. But he's all wolfish- I mean so are you, but...you know what I mean. Sparkly wings can only do so much."
"You're much more than that." Derek scoffs "as you remind me everyday."
The fairy laughed, chirping back at the bluebird who had resumed singing enthusiastically once it noticed that Stiles was in the house. "That's true. I'm pretty incredible. Wanna hang till you have to go to work? I brought movies."
Derek doesn't think he's heard a better plan.
The rest of the week passes pretty slowly, because nothing particularly eventful happens.
Derek spends most of the week wondering what exactly he and Stiles are, because friends doesn't sound like quite enough.
They spend most of the day together, with Stiles dropping Isabella off to school and more often than not picking her up so that Derek can finish a shift. And god help him, there isn't anything better than coming out of the gym to see Stiles and his daughter sitting in that rusty blue jeep in the parking lot waving at him. He slides into the passenger seat as Isabella rattles off her day and then Stiles turns up the radio and they both sing at him in appalling voices.
Derek will deny singing along if anyone asks.
Stiles stays for dinner and has cooked it for the two of them on occasion- it wasn't very good. His shepherds pie had been decidedly too sweet, but they'd eaten it gratefully.
The only thing Stiles hasn't done is spend the night, Derek's offered him the couch on three occasions, when it was far too dark out and Stiles had drifted off during a movie, but he'd always declined and Derek had watched worriedly as an exhausted fairy had gotten back into his jeep and driven home to his dad.
It's...it's not quite a friendship.
Well, for one thing, Derek's completely in love with him.
And sometimes...
Well, sometimes Derek thinks that his lingering looks are returned, even if only for a moment.
He shakes his head though because...because no.
Stiles looks young, and though he'd said he was twenty Derek has his doubts. Because yes, Stiles probably has the body of a twenty year old, but there must be some weird fairy ageing thing because from the glimpses that Derek's seen, the Sheriff is getting old and he knows he didn't have a son late. And also, there's a photo on Stiles' phone of him and Scott taken what must have been at least three years ago, and Stiles doesn't look all that different.
Derek knows wolves age a little slower, and he doesn't think Stiles is ancient or anything, but there's definitely something at play.
By the time it gets to Friday, Derek's excited. He exits the gym at 3pm, shoving his trainers into his duffel bag only to see the blue jeep parked right outside the door. Isabella waves at him and Stiles gives him a salute. The top's off and Derek blinks as he realises that it's a beautifully sunny day.
Stiles shines in the sun, his elbow hooked over the side of the car. "Get in old man, we're going shopping."
Derek stares at him.
"It's...it's Mean Girls. Have neither of you watched Mean Girls?! This is outrageous! We are watching it tomorrow you can be sure of that."
"Isn't that for teenagers?" Derek asks, shoving his bag into the back and looking pointedly at Isabella who shakes her head warningly.
"No way, daddy, I was here first and I called gun shot, so this seat is mine!"
Stiles winces "shot gun," he corrects softly, and she nods
"Yeah! Shot gun!"
Derek tries to win a stare off with her and ultimately loses, clambering into the backseat to his daughter's triumphant cheer which sounds a lot like Stiles'. He takes a moment to appraise her, she's in a yellow sundress that Laura bought her, and there's the residual sheen of what smells like sun block. He wants to smile, wolves don't have to worry about things like that, but still, it doesn't hurt. Her hair is held back by a yellow alice band, and there's not a strand out of place. She smells like sand. Derek frowns.
"Did you go to the beach?" He asks, as Stiles backs onto the road.
By the cringe on Stiles' face and the uptick of his daughter's heart he doesn't have to know they're lying when they chime: "No," in unison.
He stares at Stiles in the rear mirror until he relents.
"Alright, fine, so I didn't actually take her to school today, I got us both absorbed by plants in my garden and regrown on a Californian beach, sue me, Derek! The girl had never seen a starfish!"
"They were so cool, daddy! I went swimming in the ocean! The plant thing was not that cool." She shudders "It felt very slimy."
Stiles looks like he might argue for a moment, but then tips his head in acquiescence.
"Stiles," Derek sighs "you can't just take her out of school to go to the beach."
"I would have done it afterwards but you know growing those plants takes at least a few hours. Besides, she learnt way more at the beach than she would have in school. All they do is colour, Derek!"
"Yeah daddy, I learnt lots of stuff. Did you know that glass is made of tiny pieces of sand? And that crabs walk sideways?"
Derek tries to be angry, but Stiles is beaming so proudly and Isabella is radiating the purest joy, that all he does is sit back in his seat and mutter: "Next time you go, take me with you."
Stiles whirls in his seat, nearly crashing the car in excitement "Seriously?!" He yelps "Hell yeah!" And he and Isabella high-five.
They drive to the nearest supermarket, and before Derek can ask what exactly they're doing, Izzy is shoving a basket into his hand and telling him to pick out picnic supplies. "Stiles says we're having a nighttime picnic, daddy," she informs him politely "so we need to pick out yummy nighttime snacks."
It's all a little surreal, walking through the shop like a family. They get fond, and sometimes a few jealous, looks from other patrons as Isabella sits on Derek's shoulders plucking down things she finds interesting, and Stiles yanking at Derek's wrist down aisles. Derek falls into it comfortably, pretending for a few moments that this is all real.
"Oh my gosh." Stiles freezes "that's pick'n'mix."
Derek frowns, thumbs gentle on Isabella's ankles, as she brushes her fingers through his hair soothingly.
Derek watches in mild horror as begins yanking handfuls of sweets into a large cup. He doesn't seem to distinguish really, and Derek watches with increasing worry as chocolate eggs, flying saucers, haribos of every shape and size go into the bag. They're followed by at least 100 candy hearts and drumsticks, mini marshmallows and jelly babies, razzles and sugar-coated fudge.
Stiles is on his third cup by the time Derek finds the words to say something. And even then, it's just his name
"Stiles-"
Stiles pouts at him, lips rose red and eyes the colour of nectar.
He doesn't have the heart to say anything after that, and lets Stiles put it in the basket.
"Oh Daddy look! I forgot to show you!" She flicks his ear to be put down and he sets her on the ground gently as they head towards the checkout. "Stiles made me a crown at the beach." She reaches into one of the very handy pockets in her dress (Laura is entirely about practicality) and pulls out an intricate, beautiful white shell crown made of coral and embedded with green sea class.
Stiles looks over his shoulder and smiles softly "Fit for a princess," he reminds her, and his warm eyes land on Derek.
God Derek loves him.
He helps place the crown on his daughter's head as she stashes her alice band in her pocket.
The check out woman fawns over them. She's in her late seventies and obviously isn't getting enough from her retirement fund, so Derek leaves a hefty tip just as Stiles conjures a long stemmed, thornless rose from behind his back and presents it to her.
"A beautiful rose for an elegant woman," he murmurs, and tears spring to her eyes and she thanks them both sincerely.
Isabella nods her head at both of them as they head back to the car. "You made that lady very happy." She says "I like that." And without another word she clambers into the backseat, leaving the passenger side for Derek.
Derek doesn't know if he was always the man who encouraged school skiving or tipping old women, but he knows he is now, with Stiles.
They head home and catch as much sleep as they can, it feels wrong to leave Stiles on the sofa (Derek knows where he'd much rather have him) but Stiles is out like a light, happy and sprawled into the glitter covered cushions.
At about three am, Derek's awoken by Stiles' dark form shaking his shoulder. Isabella is up already, stamping her feet impatiently, all wrapped up in her coat and scarf. Stiles is less clad, but he does have a red hoodie thrown on over his typical plaid ensemble. He's carrying the picnic basket.
"Come on, daddy!" She squeals impatiently, sprinkling her bluebell on his face so he's coughing on glitter.
Stiles tries to hide his laugh behind a cough as Derek mock glares at him. "We'll wait outside," he says, guiding Isabella out as she traipses along behind him. Derek doesn't have time to contemplate the intimacy of having Stiles in his bedroom even for a moment before he has to start getting dressed.
With some persuasion Derek manages to get them to use his car, and they're at the park in no time. They head right out into the middle of the field, and Stiles takes a cursory look around, before the grass all around them starts to grow, higher and higher, knee heigh, waist high, shoulder high- till it cocoons above them in a wide circle, and Derek understands immediately.
It's warmer, and with barely a flick of his wrist the grass is weaving together like a circular tent, insulating and warm but offering a perfect view of the moonlit sky with a wide opening into the still night. Or early morning.
They lay out their blanket and assortment of food and sweets, and Derek feels like a young boy again, mischievous and excited, and Stiles conjures little balls of light to dot around their makeshift tent.
They eat and they talk. Derek brings up the possibility of Stiles coming over next week during the full moon and experiencing the shift with them. By the way he blushes and ducks his head, Derek thinks that Stiles likes the idea. They relax, warm and sated till around four am.
Stiles diligently packs everything back into the bag, and the grass recedes to its normal length.
Isabella is clutching her father's hand impatiently and Stiles nods.
"Okay guys, get ready,"
He takes a few steps away from him and both wolves watch him closely.
Stiles kneels, hands out and flat on the ground, and his body glows, a gentle humming gold, stark against the night, and wetness starts to spread from around his hands. The dark juniper of the grass starts glinting emerald and silver in the starlight as the wetness lands on every strand. It spreads, all over the park and on some of the low trees as Stiles draws a large arc into the air with his arm, the dew follows, perching on the flowers and the distant car windows, they watch as it spreads over the town, droplets of water and reflected light. It spreads smoothly as a shadow, leaving glitter and water in its wake.
It's breathtaking.
He's at it for a few minutes, and when he comes to them, he's out of breath though all he was doing was moving his arms.
He produces two dew-soaked daffodils for them.
"Try it," he murmurs shyly, tiredly.
Isabella licks hers without pause, and gasps, so Derek follows.
He blinks in surprise. "It's sweet."
"Yessir," he grins "nature's nectar."
Derek frowns "isn't nectar, nature's nectar?"
Stiles flicks him on the ear, and Isabella gushes over how cool it was as they walk back towards the car.
Derek's shoes get damp from the dew, and he has to spend a few minutes heating up his car so the condensation wipes away. He doesn't complain though, he doubts he'll ever complain about it again.
Isabella falls asleep pretty quickly, the excitement proving to be too much for her and Derek clears his throat a little. The darkness, and the low buzz of the radio, along with the smell of Stiles and his daughter makes him brave. "You know you...you always look really beautiful when you do your magic. Not just then, though! You always- I mean, you always look...beautiful."
Stiles looks at him, eyes wide and hopeful. "You think?"
Derek nods, throat suddenly far too dry.
Stiles looks out the window at the string of green traffic lights. "I think you always look beautiful, too. I know Bells calls me the Fairy Prince, but you? You look like...a Wolf King, or something." Derek laughs breathily. "Not just...outside though, you're...you do such good things without even thinking about it and...I'm just fucking lucky to have met you, alright?" His voice breaks, and Derek meets his eyes.
"I was lucky too." He whispers.
They don't get together that morning, but as the sun starts to rise and the dew twinkles on the grass, their eyes lock and it's so full of meaning that they nearly do.
But Isabella wakes up and demands pancakes, which is quickly seconded by Stiles.
They eat pancakes all morning.
And they get together in the afternoon.
Their lips taste of syrup and chocolate, and the dew outside is long gone.