Archive of Our Own ^beta

Derek didn’t mind working at The Den. Book stores have always been a bit of a sanctuary for him. What he minded was working at a book store in a college town. It’d been two years since he’d last taken a college course, and he was already tired of college kids. They were loud, disrespectful, underdeveloped toddlers who wouldn’t know Li Po from Sun Tzu.

He was flipping through a book of photography when the bell on the door rung. It was already well into the semester, so most of the students had already purchased their books. The regulars to the book store all knew Derek well enough to leave him alone, so when a small cough sounded in front of him all he could do was sigh. “neue Leute” he muttered. (new people-German)

“Umm h-hi.” The kid in front of him stuttered a bit as Derek looked up. “Do you have a folklore section? My professor wants us to do our own reading and he wants us to do it ASAP, which sucks cause, really? I’ve got a full load.” Derek cocked an eyebrow at the kid as he rambled. It wasn’t that cold outside but this guy was dressed for a blizzard, t-shirt, flannel, hoodie, beanie, and even those weird fingerless gloves with the little flap to go over your fingers. They did, in fact, have a folklore section, it was tiny, but at least they had one.

“Over by mythology and history.” He pointed to the back corner before turning back to the book. Photography wasn’t really his thing, but he liked to try and enjoy it sometimes, even if it hurt.

“Okay, thanks dude.”

“Nenn mich nicht 'dude'” He grumbled as the kid stumbled about towards the back. (Don’t call me dude-German)

Derek gazed down at the image in the book, a picture of an owl flying towards a sunset. It was kind of blurry and the only reason he knew it was even an owl was because it was titled Owl in Flight. Good to see the photographer was also great an naming pictures. The picture didn’t stir anything in him or whatever photography’s supposed to do. He flipped to the next page and was greeted by another picture of an owl. Great. Fuck owls.

A loud crash from the back snapped him out of his owl hating thoughts. Jumping out of his seat he stalked behind the counter to find the kid sitting on his but surrounded by books. The shelf in front of him hadn’t fallen over, but the kid had managed to knock over almost all the books on it.

“Shit.” Derek stood there and watched as the Bambi blinked up at him slowly, mouth slack.

“Oops?” He sounded shaken but not in pain. Slowly, Derek breathed. Closing his eyes he focused only on counting to five over and over again as his nails dug into his palms. “I’ll help you clean this up, I promise! I am so sorry. Lemme give you a hand.” Derek kept his eyes closed and nodded slowly. This could be fixed. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Which was mostly true, but everything is. He looked at the shelf that was now empty, Mythology H-Z and Folklore A-R. “Separate the mythology books from the folklore.” Red hoodie obeyed instantly, grabbing books at random and sorting them into piles. Derek sunk to the floor defeated and began to grab books as well. “What compelled you to attack my bookstore?”

“Well I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that per say. No attacking, just maybe a bit more climbing than is strictly suggested in non bouldering environments. Not like I go bouldering anyway, that’s more Allison’s thing.” Hoodie continued to sort books as he talked, using them as part of his gesticulations.

“You were climbing my bookshelf.” Derek shook his head and sighed, eyebrow raised again in contempt.

“Uh, yes, sorry?” Most of the books had now been sorted into one of two haphazard piles. “It’s not like I meant to tip over the book shelf and all, I really am sorry.”

Derek shook his head and rolled his eyes. “was für ein trottel.” He set the final book in its pile. “Okay, you alphabetize folklore and put them away. Don‘t hurt anything.” (What an idiot- German)

They set about alphabetizing the books in silence, or at least Derek did. The kid mumbled to himself quietly as he worked, and Derek focused on his own task at hand. The last book slid into place almost half an hour after the initial incident.

“I should probably just go before I break anything else, burn the place down or something” The kid is too busy fumbling with his gloves to notice Derek flinch, which he thinks is definitely for the best. “So I’ll see you around? Or not. Nice to meet you?”

“Sure, you too.” Derek shakes the kid’s hand.

Hoodie leaves and Derek returns to the book of photography. Damn owls. At least this picture is in focus. He turns the page again, hoping for something dif- god damn it. Derek is so tired of owl pictures. Slamming the book shut, he leans forward so that his forehead is resting on his desk. Sure, it’s a bit melodramatic, but he figures that as long as no one is watching he’s allowed to be as melodramatic as he wants. The bell on the door rings again and Derek startles into an upright position.

“So I realized that I didn’t actually buy anything which is a shame cause I really do need more books on folklore.” Hoodie strolls in and heads straight to the back. Derek slides out of his seat and follows him. “Making sure I don’t steal anything?”

“Making sure you don’t break anything.” Derek crosses his harms and leans against the Anthropology/Archaeology section one shelf down from hoodie.

“Whatever makes you feel better dude.” The kid runs his fingers along the books, stroking spines while hemming and hawing.

“Don’t call me dude.” There was no poison clouding his words.

“Then how about you tell me your name.” The kid glanced over and grinned wickedly at him. “Dude.” Derek rolled his eyes and suppressed a smile.

“Derek.”

“Stiles.” Hoodie said. Derek started to chuckle but did his best to cover it with a cough.

“That’s not a real name.”

“Real enough for me.” Stiles pulled a book out of the stack and passed it to Derek. “Hold this.” He grabs the book and doesn’t clutch it to his chest. Not at all. Nope. He most certainly doesn’t almost do that and then hold it at his side.

“Fine then, Stiles, why all the books on folklore?” He gets handed another book and holds it as well.

“Classes, specifically Eastern European Folklore since the 1500’s. Apparently the giant one hundred dollar anthology wasn’t enough, oh no, now we’ve got to buy are own books to read outside of class so that we can have a broader knowledge of the topic. Which I guess is okay, but really? I’m broke! I’m a college kid!” Stiles continues to pull out useful books and hand them to Derek. The older man just nods along and listens. It might have been a while ago, but he still remembers how much it sucked to buy textbooks.

“Anyway, is this all you do? Sit menacingly behind your counter until some poor unfortunate soul wanders into your shop?” Another book gets added to the pile.

“I also do yoga every Thursday.”

“Really?” Stiles stops to look over at Derek.

“No.”

“Ah, didn’t think so.”

“I do everything that has to be done here, so I don’t have time for anything else.” He shrugs and rearranges the books in his grasp. It’s never really bothered him that he spends almost all of his time alone waiting for customers. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

“Well that’s stupid.” Stiles stands up to his full height and reaches for a book.

“Not as stupid as you are trying to get that book. Hold still.” Derek transfers the books into Stiles’ arms and grabs the book. He’s not much taller than Stiles, maybe half an inch, but he’s a lot more coordinated. He grabs the book gracefully. Stiles considers that maybe he was lying about the not doing yoga thing. “Anything else?”

“Nope! All set for now.” They make their way to the register and set the books on the counter.

“Why folklore?” Derek rings up the books and puts them into bags.

“I just think it’s so interesting. Cultures survive through their stories and there’s all this knowledge that they pass along like how to talk to strangers or what to say to your grandma when she visits. There’s so much to learn! Plus, a lot of it’s really violent and crazy, magic and monsters and stuff.” Stiles’ hands flap about as he talks and Derek thinks he may actually be vibrating when he finishes.

“Hmm.” Derek’s always been good with words. “Cool. That’ll be sixty dollars”

Stiles whistles at the price, but he pulls out his wallet anyway. “You wanna go for coffee sometime?”

“What?” People tend not to ask Derek to go do things with them. “I don’t really” he waves his hand around a little, continuing to demonstrate his lexical skill “do that sort of thing?” denk nach Derek, denk nach. (think Derek, think-German).

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push myself on you or anything, you’ve probably heard enough of my chatter. I just get really talkative and forget how to stop. Like what I’m doing right now. Shit.” He throws a hand over his mouth for good measure. Derek smiles.

“ein Kaffee”

“That’s a yes, right? I don’t really know much German. Just a little. Like ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’.” Stiles tilts his head to the side, eyebrows raised a small smile on his face.

“Sorry. Yes. One drink.” It couldn’t hurt.

“Sweet! Tomorrow? That sounds super eager, it doesn’t have to be tomorrow. Just, you know, whenever you’re free?” He grabs the books from the counter.

“My lunch break is from 12:30-1:30.”

“I’ll see you then!” Stiles tries to raise a hand to shake Derek’s, but the bags of books make it into an awkward weight lifting motion. He makes it out the door without breaking anything and Derek watches him until he is out of sight.

Derek opens up the book he’d been flipping through earlier and closes it immediately when he sees another picture of an owl. The rest of the day is spent helping the occasional customer and grabbing books from the back to fill in the empty spaces from what Stiles took. He closes down the shop as usual, turning off the lights and gathering his things before walking to his apartment a few blocks away. His flat mate is gone, probably at a party. Isaac was the type who got invited to do things. One frozen meal later and he was left lounging around with nothing to do but wait. Waiting always lead to thinking, and thinking lead to worrying. Before he could truly delve into a full blown worry fest, Isaac stumbled through the door tailed by another boy.

“Oh hey Derek, this is Scott.” Isaac gestured behind him to an awkward looking boy who badly needed a hair cut. “He’s in my English class.”

“Hey” he raised his hand in a polite but abrupt wave, unsure of what to say.

“Hi.” Scott said cheerfully. His wave much more sure of its self.

The two moved to the table and began chattering about their class. Derek laid back down on the couch and ignored them as best he could. When he opened his eyes next the room was dark and there was no one else around. He sat up creakily and rolled his neck. A post it note fluttered onto his lap.

“I’m going out, be back by morning.” Isaac was always good about leaving him notes. After a year of living together he’d begun to feel almost like an older brother to Isaac, even though neither of them had a good history of familial relations, they made it work. Derek wandered to his room and collapsed onto his bed. He sighed before deciding that he probably should change into pajamas, or at least not be wearing jeans. Kicking off his shoes, he then turned over and took of his pants, wiggling and flopping about. When he was finally free he decided to collapse on his bed again, pull the covers on top of him, and go back to sleep.

Harsh beeps shot into Derek until he lashed out and slapped his alarm clock. Getting up at five wasn’t all that bad after the first five minutes, but for those five minutes he liked to reconsider all of his life choices. He got up out of bed and changed into his work out clothes before he could convince himself to sleep in. Slipping on his running shoes he went outside and stretched before starting off. He never listened to music on his run, instead he like to focus on every foot fall and every breath. Two miles every morning woke him up and kept him in shape, that and the pushups, pull ups, jumping jacks, crunches, and lifting routine he did when he got back. Today he found his mind wandering away from his counting. He thought about Stiles, about how he would be seeing him today. What would they talk about? How much could he tell him? His life history was not really a first date kind of conversation. Was this a date? Derek wasn’t really sure. After the third time of tripping over a rock, he refocused and went back to counting, ignoring the other thoughts that polluted him.

He went through the rest of his workout before showering and eating breakfast. Derek didn’t have a lot of clothes, but he cared more about his appearance than he’d like. This when paired with his maybe-but-probably-not-a-date with Stiles later meant it took him almost double the time to figure out what he was going to wear. In the end it was a grey Henley and black jeans. That plus his leather jacket made him feel comfortable and stable. The rest of his morning was spent on autopilot, waiting till lunch. If you’d of asked he would have no clue how many customers he had helped that morning (13), nor how many books he had sold (21). What he could tell you at any given time was how much longer he had till his lunch break. Derek couldn’t pinpoint why he was so excited about this, he knew chances were good it would just end up in with him being told that he’s a freak or a prude, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Another half truth he told himself.
For the entire hour leading up to his lunch break Derek would jump and look up at the door whenever the little bell rang. He would subsequently glare at every person who came inside who wasn’t Stiles. By the time his lunch break actually rolled around, Derek was so angry at himself for being earnest that he had exiled himself to re-organizing the books on the small second floor of The Den.

“Derek?” Stiles called from the first floor. Quickly Derek stood up and raced to the stairs, whereupon he decided to appear cool and calm and gently walked down to meet Stiles. 

“Ready?”

“Sure.” He grabbed his jacket and then walked over to the door where Stiles was still waiting. “Where do you want to go?” He asked as he locked up The Den.

“Just follow me.” Stiles turned and started walking down the road. Derek shrugged and followed. “My friend works over at this coffee shop and she swears by the stuff there. I trust her opinion because she has very high standards.” He laughed to himself, an inside joke maybe? Derek smiled at him anyway, enjoying his laughter.

“Sounds perfect.” He fumbled around awkwardly trying to carry on the conversation. “What other classes are you taking? Besides the Folklore one that is.” gut gemacht coming up with a question. (well done-German)

“I’ve got this English class I’m taking with my best friend which is pretty great. Besides that I’ve got pre-calc, Russian, and this ballroom dance class I got roped into by the friend who works at the coffee shop.” Stiles is yet again dressed for weather that’s at least fifteen degrees colder than how the weather actually is.

“Those sound like fun classes.” Stiles snorted at Derek’s comment.

“All except pre-calc! Luckily Lydia is a magical goddess of both coffee and math.” He grinned recklessly.

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” Derek’s smile was like a scarf over a lamp, soft and gentle with the possibility for both beauty and lighting on fire and destroying everything. “I only ever got as far as statistics.” He never even finish the statistics class.

“Math’s not for everyone, don’t listen to the lies that professors try and feed you. Some of us really just aren’t meant for math.” Stiles has never really stopped smiling and glancing at Derek every few foot falls.

“What about your other classes, are they going well? Do you like dancing?” Derek had never really danced. Laura used to love to dance, so Derek had never been able to muster the strength to follow in her foot steps.

“It’s not too bad, or at least it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Lydia already knows how to do all the dances, she just wants me to learn so she can have someone to dance with. Her girlfriend is the worst dancer on the planet, so I’m just filling in.” Derek let out a sigh of relief that Stiles wasn’t with Lydia, one he didn’t know why he had been holding in. Another lie, he knew exactly why he’d been holding his breath. “It’s pretty fun sometimes, I’m not so good and any of the slow sexy stuff like the tango, but I’m not too bad a swing dancer.”

They arrived at the coffee shop, quite originally titles Downtown Coffee. Derek had probably been inside once or twice before, but he didn’t drink coffee all that often.

“Order whatever you want, my treat.” Stiles grabbed him by the crook of his arm and towed him towards the counter. No one else was in line, but most of the tables were full of patrons. Behind the counter was a young woman with red hair and a quizzical gaze. “Lydia! Light of my life, mathematic genius, fairest of them all, how are you doing today?” He leaned against the counter like he owned the place, at home in an instant.

“I’m excellent, and who’s this” She gestured lazily at Derek, but her eyes grazed over him until he felt like he was being searched by TSA.

“This is Derek. Derek, this is Lydia Martin.” Stiles smiled reassuringly at Derek and lurched his head slightly toward the woman.

“It’s a pleasure.” Derek shook her hand from across the counter.

“I assure you that the pleasure is all mine. Or at least mostly mine.” She winked at him. He flinched and backed up a step. Stiles luckily didn’t seem to notice again, but Lydia most certainly did. “Interesting.” Derek wasn’t sure if he liked her. He took another step back for good measure.

“Okay then.” Stiles dragged out the vowels. “I’ll have my usual. Derek?” He turned to Derek who glanced up again at the board. Luckily it was almost exactly the same as every other coffee shop ever, so he didn’t have to think too long about his order.

“Caramel macchiato.” Lydia and Stiles turned to him with their eyebrows raised.

“I would have guess you’d have wanted a coffee so dark and bitter it would match that sour disposition you had before.” Stiles grinned. “You know, when I accidentally almost destroyed your book store?” Derek just smiled and shrugged while Lydia finished the transaction. “Come on, let’s sit down. Lydia will bring our drinks out, won’t she?” He turned to wink at his friend as they walked to their seats.

“Thanks for the coffee, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I didn’t, I wanted to. You seem like a cool enough guy, and I did attack your shop.” Stiles set his arms on the table and leaned toward Derek as he talked, his shoulders and head moving about almost as expressively as his hands.

“Well when you put it that way I guess you do owe me.” He grinned worriedly until Stiles let out a bark of laughter and Derek relaxed into his own happiness.

“So Derek, tell me a bit about yourself. All I really know is that you work in a book store and speak German.” Derek frowned at the comment. He always hated these sorts of questions, he never knew quite what to say. Luckily, Lydia bought him some time by choosing that moment to come over and give them their drinks. Derek’s mug sat next to Stiles’ glass of what appeared to be iced coffee.

“I went to college for a few years before coming out here and working at The Den. Technically it’s mine, but it still doesn’t feel like I own it or anything. Just kind of like I’m babysitting. Besides that I mostly just read.” Derek took a sip of his coffee. It was surprisingly excellent, maybe Stiles wasn’t kidding when he called Lydia a coffee goddess.

“That’s a good pastime for someone who owns a book store. What do you like to read?” Stiles drinks his coffee through a straw that he appears to have never really learned how to use.

“Anything.” Stiles rolls his eyes at Derek’s answer. “My favorites are books of poetry.” Derek practically whispers.

“Cool!” Stiles abandons his drink in favor of talking with his hands. “Oh man poetry’s great. It’s never really been my main thing but there’s a lot of old ballads and stuff that are more my thing. Even more modern stuff’s not too bad. Jabberwocky is by far my favorite poem ever.”

“It’s a good poem.” Derek smiles softly. “I’ve always been fond of Sylvia Plath, she’s honest.”

“Sure, but she’s also sad.” Stiles shakes his head. “Just because someone’s blunt or honest doesn’t mean they have to be so dark about it.” Derek shrugs and returns to his drink.

They spend the rest of Derek’s lunch hour chatting idly, mostly about Stiles’ classes or The Den. It’s nice, relaxing in a way Derek doesn’t usually allow. It isn’t until the alarm on Derek’s phone goes off that they notice the time. It’s already the end of Derek’s lunch break, and Stiles really does need to get to class soon. It’s English so it’s not too hard but he’d still rather not be late. He excuses himself to ‘powder his nose’ (what a dork) before they leave. As soon as Stiles is out of sight Lydia swoops in.

“If you hurt him I will destroy you.” She says as she grabs their cups.

“Okay.” Derek glances over at her, confused and more than just a little scared.

“He’s a good kid” she flips her hair over her shoulder and puts her hand on her hip, “and if you push him into anything he’s not ready for I will castrate you.” She struts away, leaving Derek off kilter. Stiles returns and they walk back to The Den. Chatter continues as usual but Derek remains distracted by Lydia’s comments, hearing her voice replay over and over in his mind.

“So I guess this is it.” Stiles sticks his hands in his pockets and scuffs his shoes on the sidewalk in front of The Den. His smile was small and sweet, wishful in a way.

“Yeah. I’ll see you around?” Derek ignored the urge to rub the back of his neck, focusing more on looking cool and composed.

“That’d be nice, here” Stiles took a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Text me or something.” Derek took his number and grinned at that little slip or paper. “Or don’t, you know, no pressure.”

“I’ll text you.” He looked Stiles in the eye for the first time since they left the coffee shop. Derek’s grin relaxed as the other boy’s smile grew radiant. Stiles leaned forward a little, closer, his hand reached for Derek’s arm. “So I’ll see you later then?” Derek backed up into the shop’s door and Stiles quickly regained his composer, though his smile was forced.

“For sure.” Stiles turned and walked away as Derek slunk into his shop, metaphorical tail between his legs.

Stumbling to his seat behind the counter Derek threw himself down and collapsed onto the table top. At least he didn’t completely mess it up? Slowly and repeatedly he thumps his head against the still closed photo book on the table. Derek sits up and unclenches his fists. He looks down at the crumpled up piece of paper in his palm and without thinking adds it into his phone. A few people wander in and out of the shop, but Derek spends the next few hours writing and subsequently deleting text message after text message that he never sends to Stiles. The one he finally sends is only sent when Derek becomes startled by the alarm on his phone going off again, this one is to remind him that it’s time to go home. “It’s Derek. Sorry about earlier. Do you want to hang out again so” The unfortunate bit is that the message was sent before Derek could really finish it. As soon as it gets sent he sets the phone down on the table before covering his face with his hands. Derek was not made to handle this sort of stress.

“Oh mein Gott” he muttered over and over as he locked up the shop. The words were on his breath as he walked home, and as he opened the door to his house they were again the first words he said. (Oh my god-German)

“What’s wrong?” Isaac looked up from where he was doing homework at the table. “Hey, Derek, look at me.” He stood up and walked over till he was standing right in front of the other man. “Look at me.” Derek looked into his eyes as Isaac placed his hands on Derek’s shoulders. “Come on, count with me. One…Two…Three…Four…” The boys counted in the doorway all the way to fifty before Derek finally shook himself free of his anxieties.

“Thank you.” He patted Isaac’s arm as he walked past him into the house.

“No problem. What’s going on with you?” He moved back to his homework.

“Nothing.” Derek turned on the television and Isaac left him alone. He wallowed in his thoughts and paid little attention to the documentary on the plague that was playing. His phone vibrated against his thigh and Derek did not almost jump off the couch in surprise. Rabidly he pulled his phone from his pocket to see that Stiles had responded. “No worries man. Sure, but I’m busy the next few days. How does Saturday sound?” He hastily told him that Saturday would be great, forcing the tone of his text to seem calm and casual. Looks like he didn’t ruin anything after all.

The next few days were spent exchanges texts. They would ask each other simple or silly questions: Favorite color, favorite flavor of ice cream, on and on and on. Little things so that they could get to know each other better. On Friday they finalized plans, go see a movie at the little theater downtown between The Den and the coffee shop Lydia works at. No idea what movie, but neither of them really cared about that anyway. Derek was a nervous wreck by the time he closed up on Friday, which was not really how he’d wanted to present himself to Stiles’ friend.

“Uh-hum” A woman cleared her throat from behind Derek as he locked the door. “So you two are going to see a movie tomorrow.” Lydia supplied.

“Yes?”

“Are you unsure of whether or not you will in fact be seeing a movie?” Lydia took a step towards Derek, remaining casual but killer. A brown haired girl leaned against the glasswatching them, a small smile on her lips as she looked at Lydia.

“No, I’m sure. We’re seeing a movie tomorrow. Yes.” He stuttered it all out but in the end he hoped it made sense.

“You remember what I told you?” She took another step forward. Lydia was almost six inches shorter then Derek but in that moment he felt like an ant.

“Don’t hurt Stiles or you’ll castrate me.” The girl leaning against his shop giggled.

“And…”

“And don’t push him into anything he isn’t ready for.” He furrowed his brow. “You really don’t have to worry about that. I won’t hurt him and you definitely don’t need to worry about making him do anything.”

“Stiles wants people to be happy.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “If he thinks that there is something he can do for you that will make you happy and like him he will do it even if he doesn’t really want to.” Lydia stared at him. “So don’t let him unless you know he wants to.”

“You mean sex stuff, right?” The other girl laughed again. He glared over at her until Lydia snapped her fingers right in front of his face.

“That is exactly what I mean.” She took a step back. “Come on Allison, let’s go.” She held out her hand and the other girl took it. Using her one free hand she waved good bye to Derek, he automatically waved back.

“Das war seltsam.” He shook his head and walked home, unsure of what to think of these strange interactions. At least Allison seemed nice enough. (That was weird-German)

The scene replayed in his head until he fell asleep, and in the morning it was the first thing on his mind. His routine was not hindered by these thoughts, Derek had become well versed in focusing on counting steps or lifts instead of on thoughts polluting his brain. He wasn’t supposed to meet Stiles at the theater until 3, so he still had a few hours and nothing to do. Even though he loved to read, Derek didn’t have his own book shelf at the apartment, The Den was only a few blocks away so he didn’t see why he needed to keep more books in his home. The Den was a safer place to keep such things anyway. His laptop was charging in his room, and this spot on the couch was far too comfortable to move from, so Derek spends an hour napping: waking up disoriented and more exhausted then before. Giving up, he grabs his jacket and keys before walking the short distance to downtown. He’s still got plenty of time, so he instead of doing something productive, he leans against the side of the theater and watches the people walking by. A couple, a mother, friends, families. Everyone going somewhere. No one watches him long, all of them shying away when he makes eye contact.

“You’re early.” Stiles bounds up to him. “I figured I should show up early just in case and you’re here so we both had the same idea it seems. Great minds and all.” His grin is omnipotent. Derek’s is more a beautiful vase on the edge of a cliff.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Mostly true, in reality he didn’t know what else he’d wanted to do.

“Me neither, plus I was kinda excited. Let’s go inside.” Stiles towed him forward by the arm towards the ticket booth.

“Hi.” Oh no. “So Derek, why don’t you introduce me to this cutie.” Erica was predatory and one of Derek’s few friends. They mostly hung out after she got of work on the weekends and bitched about their lives. It was probably his most cherished relationship. Stiles’ ears were bright red, and the color was seeping up his neck.

“Hey Erica.” Derek loves her like a sister, but her flirtation style is rather aggressive for someone who’s engaged. “This Stiles.”

“Stiles” She says his name like she’s ordering at the Ritz. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Luckily there is glass blocking the two from really meeting, Derek thanks every god he can think of for that piece of glass. “How long have you known Derek?”

“Um…only a few days.” He’s shifting his weight, glancing between Derek and Erica.

“He came into my shop.” Derek supplies.

“And nearly tore the place to the ground.” Stiles smiles at him, relaxing at his own joke. “So I repaid him in coffee.”

“Excellent. So what are you two seeing?”

“The new Nic Cage film.” Derek doesn’t really like action films or Nic Cage, but Stiles really wanted to see it. He’s not sure if Stiles is actually a Nic Cage fan or a Nic Cage is awful but hilarious kind of guy.

“Oh no, that’s an awful choice.” Erica looks into Derek’s eyes and smiles. “You should go see the new romantic comedy we just got.” She’s already begun to punch everything in and print the tickets before she finishes her sentence.

“Oh, well, umm” Derek mumbles.

“Sure!” Stiles’ grip on Derek’s arm intensifies, he hadn’t realized that Stiles had kept his hand on him. “If you think that’s the movie to see we might as well give it a try.”

“I like him.” She winks at Derek. “Enjoy!” Her nails are perfectly manicured and blood red as she slides their tickets out to them.

“Thanks Erica.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night!” She called as they walked through the doors to the theater.

“Friend of yours?” Stiles let go of Derek’s arm so that they could easily step inside.

“Probably my best friend.” Derek handed their tickets over and started walking to their theater.

“Wait a second, are you trying to walk into a theater to watch a movie without buying popcorn?!?” Stiles had stepped in front of Derek, blocking his path, his hand reached out in front of him. “That’s awful! Come on!”

While they waited in line, Derek explained his relationship to Erica. How they had grown up together but didn’t really keep in contact after he went to New York for college. That when he came back she was there for him. He left out that they regularly got drunk, that he knew WAY too much about her sex life, and that her fiancé Boyd was one of the nicest people he has ever met. The first two were inappropriate, the third just didn’t really come up. They got a bag of popcorn and a medium soda “we can just share” Stiles had reassured him. Two straws and a million napkins later the pair made their way into the theater. It wasn’t very crowded yet, but they were still stuck in the very last row.
It was a good enough movie, but Derek didn’t pay much attention to it. Stiles moved around a lot and whispered his own commentary about almost everything on screen. Little quips about bad writing, overly dramatic zooms, and on inconsistencies made the whole experience weirdly enjoyable. Weird because Derek rarely enjoyed going to the movies or doing things with new people. Still, he liked sitting next to Stiles. They left the theater, drunkenly happy and time warped in the best way, as one should always be when leaving the cinema.

“That was better than I expected. You’re friends pretty good at the whole choosing movies thing.” Stiles commented as they walked back towards Derek’s apartment. “Well, I mean, it wasn’t all that great so it was good that I had super low expectations, but it was actually entertaining!”

“So is that why you insulted almost every character and decision made by the director?” Derek huffed with a smile.

“Oh, sorry about that. I forget to stop talking sometimes, you’ve probably noticed. It’s like a disease, but not a real disease. Well, kind of like a real disease, but much less contagious I guess.”

“No, it was nice.”

“Really?” Stiles stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, almost causing a young woman to run into him.

“Yeah, I like hanging out with you.” Derek shrugs and keeps walking. Stiles runs a bit to catch up, but he’s all smiles when their eyes meet next.

“That’s good, cause I like hanging out with you too.” He bumped his shoulder into Derek’s. It felt like they had become friends too quickly for it to really be real. It was nice having someone new who hadn’t known him before and didn’t treat him like a broken thing. Stiles rambles on about the movie until they get to Derek’s apartment. “So I guess I’ll see you later?”

“Would you like to come in?” He shuffled his feet and didn’t quite meet Stiles’ eyes. “Coffee or something?” Derek’s heart was racing and he felt about ready to pass out. This was probably too much too fast. He’d never been good at knowing how quickly relationships progressed. Did he even have coffee? Isaac hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a while.

“Oh.” Stiles chewed his lip. “That’s really sweet of you, but I don’t really….do that sort of thing.” His face was almost as red as it had been when Erica had talked to them. “You’re nice but it’s only been a few days and I’m just not ready for that sort of” he waved his hands about wildly “thing.” he finally settled on.

“But we had coffee just a few days ago?” Derek didn’t see why Stiles was suddenly so anti-coffee, maybe he was just worried that he didn’t have iced coffee? That’s a silly worry.

“But you’re not actually asking me in for coffee, right?” Stiles stopped fidgeting and looked at Derek.

“What else would I be asking you for?” Derek furrowed is eyebrows.

“Sex!” Stiles practically shouted. A few other people walking nearby stopped and stared at them. Stiles’ hands slapped over his mouth and Derek delved into another coughing fit.

“That’s what people usually mean when they ask someone to come in for coffee you know.” He hisses out between fingers. Derek has yet to get control of himself. “I mean I guess this would be the second date, third if you count us re-shelving the books I knocked over and the third is usually the time that couples put out and all but I’m just not like that and I’m sorry and I’ll just go cause I’ve talked too much and this is awkward.” He turned and started walking away, back towards downtown and his own apartment. Stiles was a few blocks down before Derek had made a decision. He ran down the street, jumping around the few other people walking about until he reached Stiles, grabbed him by the shoulder, and spun him around. Stiles barely kept his balance, clinging to Derek’s sleeve to keep himself upright.

“I wasn’t sure these were dates.” Was not quite what he meant to say, but at least it was honest.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Oh shit, are you straight, that would explain why you leaned away in front of your shop. I am so sorry, I really-” It was at this point Derek decided he was just kind of finished and covered Stiles’ mouth with his free hand. Stiles opened his mouth and licked Derek’s hand. The pair jumped apart, Stiles apologized and Derek did his best to wipe the spit off onto his jeans.

“It’s fine.” Derek shushed him with a raise of his hand. “I’m glad they were dates.”

“So that means you’re not straight, right?”

“No, I’m…I’m not straight.” He was always so bad at this part. Even if Stiles seemed like maybe he’d be okay with it, he hated this part of the conversation. At least with Erica he’d gotten to be drunk. “I’m asexual.” Derek flinched back and looked at Stiles, who instead of looking confuse like everyone else did looked like it was Christmas morning.

“You’re kidding!” He was vibrating almost audibly and lightly punched Derek in the chest. “Get out of town, you’re ace! This is awesome.” Derek couldn’t help but smile at the younger man’s excitement. A young man who was so excited that he jumped forward and hugged Derek. By the time Derek realized he should hug him back, Stiles had already let go. Or at least mostly let go, he was still holding onto Derek’s arms. “I’m demi, so that probably explains a few things, and oh man I did not see that coming. It makes sense though what with the whole not kissing me thing, but that’s super good to know.”

“Uh, yeah. This is certainly the most excited anyone’s ever been about this.” He was holding onto Derek’s forearms as well, and embrace that was surprisingly not awkward. “It’s cool that you’re demi.”

“Let’s go back to yours and drink coffee.” He spun them around and pulled Derek along, this time by the wrist. “This makes things so much easier. Also, I’m so sorry about anything Lydia has said to you cause I swear she’s just overly protective of me.” They make it to his door and Derek lets them in. Isaac is out again, probably with that friend of his he brought over the other day. Derek leads them to the kitchen where he gets the coffee maker going.

“Have you met any aces before?” Derek sits himself up on the counter, a habit that he should probably someday break.

“Not really. I mean, it’s not like people advertise it, you know? I can’t just go up to every boy and girl I see asking if they’re ace. It’d make things easier but I’d probably become a social pariah.” Stiles sits himself up on the counter next to Derek. “What about you?”

“Not really. I haven’t told many people I’m asexual anyway. Erica knows, and Isaac kind of knows. I tried to explain it, but he just doesn’t get it.” Derek was used to that, which was why he doesn’t really tell people. Doesn’t have anyone else to tell anyway.

“What about your family, do they know? Or at least that you’re not straight?” Stiles knocked his knee against Derek. Shit. Derek didn’t think this would come up so fast. These are two very different very important conversations and he’s not really emotionally stable on the best days and this days been good but good days fall apart easily. Talk about his family, about New York, The Den, the fire, his mom, his dad, his sisters, baby brother, family, New York, Den, fire, mom, dad, sisters, brother, family, New York, Den, fire, family, mom, dad, sisters, brothers, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire

A voice berated him, could have been saying his name, but he was lost. Lost in smoke and flames. Screaming and yelling, slamming of doors, smoke and heat all around him. Cool hands grabbed his face, wrenching it towards light. Calm voices spoke rhythmically to him, words or maybe just incoherent babble. He reached for cold reality of the hands cradling him, the voice that counted. Back to the surface he dragged himself until he could count along.

“Thirty nine, forty, forty one…” The twined voices droned on and on, counting until Derek reached air and could breath. His hair was petted by the cool hands encircling him, calming him. Stiff arms clung to tight legs still pulled up to his chest. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

“There you are.” Isaac smiled at him.

“Where’s Stiles?” Derek stayed on the floor, still unsure of his legs.

“Calm down, let’s go to the couch so you can sit.” He wobbled when he stood, so Isaac kept his hand firm against Derek’s back, leading him to the couch. “I sent him out.”

“You got rid off him?” This was awful a complete misunderstanding. “It wasn’t his fault that I had another attack. He didn’t know.”

“What did he say?” Isaac knew Derek’s life story almost to a tee, after the third panic attack in a month after they moved in together he figured it was information that needed to be shared.

“Nothing really.” It never is anything that big that sets him off. “He just asked if my family knows I’m not straight.” Derek’s breathing grew ragged, but Isaac refocused him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay? You’ve been even more unstable than usual lately.” That’s one of the things Derek likes about Isaac, he’s honest.

“I don’t know.” He confesses. “I’ve just been off the last two days. More empty I guess.”

“Does it have anything to do with Stiles?”

“No, he doesn’t make me feel sad or anything. He’s nice.” He looks up at Isaac who smiles back. Derek hadn’t even gone on a date since he came back to California, and Isaac was thankful for this change.

“Do you want me to go get him?”

“Not yet.” Derek stretches out, releasing his wound up muscles. Panic attacks always made him feel a bit worthless and really tired. “I think I want to take a nap.”

“One, go to your room first. Two, do you want me to get Stiles? Three, maybe take off your shoes.” Isaac had already untied them, so Derek kicked them off with ease. Derek nodded as he stumbled to his room. The front door was opened and Isaac did his usual: vaguely explain the situation without giving away too many details spiel.

“Hey.” Stiles enters Derek’s bedroom slowly, the second man looks up from where he’s already lying on the bed.

“Hrmg.” He grunts back in return.

“I get that.” Sitting down near the bed, he leans his back against the frame, letting his head fall back against the mattress. “Used to get panic attacks all the time when I was younger. Not so much any more, but I remember what it was like. How scary it is. I’m really sorry I set you off.” He turned his head to look at Derek. The older man had turned over onto his stomach and looked back down at Stiles. “Isaac told me what not to talk about, not why, but that can wait. Take your time. Don’t tell me ever if you don’t want to. I get it.” Derek nodded in response. “Wanna talk? We don’t have to talk about any of this stuff, we could talk about anything. It helped me sometime, to come back to reality.” He nodded again, slower this time.

“I didn’t really watch the movie very much.” Derek confessed. One of the problems he encountered when talking in times of stress is that he is very honest. “From what I remember it was pretty good.” He talked mostly into his pillow, mouthing at it as he spoke.

“It wasn’t all that good, but I’ve seen worse.” Stiles shrugged and turned his knees so that he was kneeling instead of sitting. “What were you doing, just zoning out the entire time?”

“Just thinking.” He snuggled into his pillow. “Thinking about you and how you talk a lot and bounce your leg.” Sighing with a smile he opened his eyes. “About us I guess.” He closed his eyes before Stiles could look into them.

“Okay.” Stiles did his best to sit still and not comment, gnawing on his lip and squeezing his hands tightly together. In the end he knew it would be useless. He propped his elbows up on the mattress like he was about to pray. Prayer had never been one of his habits, but he didn’t mind every now and then. Today he asked for Derek to be okay, and he also sent up a thank you. And as always a hello to his mother. “Anything in particular?” He really couldn’t stop his curiosity though.

“Mmmm.” Derek’s mind was sluggish, but picking up speed as they chatted. “Not really I guess. You’re smart and funny and good at talking and also pretty good at listening but you are also kind of a mess but I guess that’s okay cause it’s not like I’m much better.”

“You could say that.” Stiles smiles and pokes Derek in the side. His reflexes are much faster than Stiles’ and he gets a hold of the other man’s wrist before he can retreat. “Well then.”

“Even loopy I’m faster than you.” Derek held on.

“Guess you’re probably not very loopy then.” Stiles doesn’t fight it when Derek pull gently. “You want something?”

“Come ’ere.” Derek pulls again, a little more force, but still gentle. He rolls, hand still clutched to Stiles’ wrist, pulling his arm over his body. Stiles scrambles onto the bed, kicking off his shoes quickly. Yanked against Derek’s back, he does his best to figure out what on earth he’s supposed to do with his left arm.
“Lift your head silly.” Derek does as he’s told and Stiles slips his arm underneath, forcing Derek to wiggle down a little and become more comfortable.
In the end it’s pretty awkward. One of them just had a panic attack, and the other is still coming to terms with one of them having a panic attack. Plus both of them are still reeling and finding another ace person. Overall it’s not the best cuddling ever, but it‘s nice. Stiles can feel as Derek relaxes, his heart beat slowing down and evening out. Soon enough the snoring starts, it’s not too loud compared to his dad’s, so Stiles is able to fall asleep soon after. The nice part about after panic attack naps for Derek is that he can never remember the dreams.

Strange vibrations against his butt wake Derek from his sleep. All the lights are off and the sun had set, and the weird vibrations continued to emanate from Stiles. He turned and shook the younger man gently until he sprung suddenly into action.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit” he muttered as he dug his phone from his pocket. “Scott!” he yelped into the phone. “That was so loud, I am sorry.” Stiles moved the phone back to his mouth, whispering this time. “Hey buddy, I’m sorry about not being home”… “I’m fine, just…can I explain later?”… “I’m in town, kinda at Isaac’s house? Not really. With his roommate.”… “No! Sorry again. No Scott, I didn’t. You know what? He’s awake and I’d really like to have this conversation later.” He hung up his phone and set it on the ground before crawling back into bed. Derek and made his way under the covers while Stiles was on the phone.

“Wirst du gehen?" Derek asked from the bed.

“Huh?” German was really not Stiles’ language.

“Are you going to leave?” It had sounded much less pathetic in Derek’s head (and in German).

“Nah, he’s fine. Do you want me to leave?” Stiles hovered about, not quite touching the bed.

“Nein.” Derek grabbed his wrist and Stiles followed, this time he pulled him up against his chest. The rude awakening left them both too on edge to go back to sleep quickly, but to tired to do anything but lay there.

Drifting in and out of reality, Derek eventually gives up on sleep and just gets up out of bed. This task is more difficult than he had anticipated, as Stiles is lying on one of his arms and is closer to the edge of the bed. In the end he slips his arm out slowly and goes over the back of the bed instead of over Stiles. The younger of the two rolls into where the other had been sleeping, soaking in the remaining heat. Tip-toeing out of his room, Derek maneuvers into the bathroom. One day without working out won’t kill him, and he’s still tense and sore from yesterday. He runs the water for his bath, grabs some of the lavender bath salts from the shelf, and sets up his bath. Derek strips slowly and carefully, uncomfortable with his form and face. Not shaving for a few days had left him more mountain man like than he enjoyed. Stepping carefully into the bathtub, he sunk down as far as he could while still being able to breath. He hadn’t at first wanted this apartment, two bed one bath was small for two grown men, but the size of the tub had ensnared him. Baths had always helped Derek relax, and in New York he never had one quite large enough for him. Here he could relax, curled up a bit but not uncomfortably so, he took his time washing himself and his hair. Even after the water had cooled he sat, stretching and breathing, running his hands through his hair.

“Stiles is up.” Isaac called from the other side of the door. “He offered to make breakfast so I’m letting him stay.”

“Okay.” Derek unplugged the bath tub and climbed out. He toweled himself off and then shaved. Today’s clothes were still sitting untouched in his room, so he slipped on his old shirt, wrapped the towel around his waist, and opened the bathroom door.

Stiles was cracking eggs into a bowl, pausing to turn around and look at Derek.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning to you too. Feeling better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Derek felt awkward and over exposed in just a t-shirt and a towel. His skin was still damp and the shirt clung to him unnecessarily.

“No problem. Breakfast will be ready in a bit!” Stiles turned back to his work and Derek retreated to his room. He takes some time choosing the proper pair of jeans (well worn and comfortable, a few holes here and there) and a good shirt (long sleeve forest green v-neck). Socks were added as well, even though it had been warm enough to go without. Moving to the kitchen he sees Stiles has already begun to cook the eggs. He hoped up on the counter and watched for a while as Stiles danced about and prepared their food.

“Looks good.” Derek commented. Stiles jumped into the air and turned around, plastic spoon held aloft like a weapon.

“Holy shit you scared me! You need a bell or something.” Stiles cracked rolled his neck and shook out his limbs before returning to the food. “And thanks, for the compliment. Figured some good food would help. You didn’t have much in the fridge so this is all pretty basic. Scrambled eggs with some cheese and turkey. You also only had one mushroom left and I grabbed that too. I’ll buy you some new ones later.” He sprinkled the cheese on top of the eggs. “All that okay with you?”

“Sounds delicious. I appreciate it.” Derek crossed his ankles and swung them a tiny bit.

“It’s no problem, really. I like cooking. Oh! I almost forgot, Isaac is going on a day trip somewhere, I was only kinda paying attention, but he’ll be back in time for class tomorrow.” Stiles turned off the stove and poured the eggs onto two plate he had already prepared. “Here you go.” He handed one plate to Derek, keeping the other for himself. They ate in silence, enjoying the food but also unsure of what to say. Neither of them knew how to quantify their relationship nor knew that the other was also so unsure. Feeling alone and confused can be an egocentric past time, and one this pair was engrossed in.

“So…” Stiles started. Derek paused his eating and looked up at him. “Um… this is a bit awkward. I mean, I guess last night we clarified that these were dates and that we both had fun, and I really like you and I’m pretty sure you like me too. So, what do you want? I mean you don’t need to propose or anything I just wanna know if you want to be in a relationship with me or not? Are we exclusive? Should I call you my boyfriend? Friend with benefits? I’m not sure what we’ve got going on here.”

Derek sat for a moment, turning it over in his mind, not wanting to say the wrong words. He was so careful and concise and even a bit afraid. This was one thing he didn’t want to mess up.

“I think I want to try being in a relationship. With you.” Derek spoke gently.

“Good.” Stiles smiled and set his plate down on the counter next to Derek’s. He put his hands on the other man’s knees and leaned in. This time he was much more confident that things would go as planned, at least 98.9% confident. Derek flinched back when Stiles was still six inches away. “I’m sorry.” Stiles leaned his head against Derek’s shoulder instead, forgetting his second and equally disastrous attempt at a kiss. “Are you not into the whole kissing thing? I should have asked earlier. I know it’s not every ace’s thing, and I can go without. Not a big deal.” Or at least Stiles hoped it wouldn’t develop into a big deal, he could be both needy and handsy.

“It’s just been a while, and I’ve never really…”

“You’ve never been kissed?” Stiles yanks back his head, mouth agape.

“No.” Derek settles on. Not quite the truth, but a safer truth to believe and share.

“Okay. Do you want to kiss? Doesn’t have to be right now, I’m just looking for a bit of a timeline. Like, yes I’d like to kiss but probably not for ten years, or, yes just give me a week to get used to the idea.” Stiles’ hands rest on the counter on either side of Derek.

“I’d like to kiss you.” Derek slid his hands to Stiles’. “Just not right now. Give me a bit of time.” It wasn’t the first time Derek had thought about kissing someone else, he’d spent many nights lying awake wondering if he’d even really like it. From what he’d gathered it wasn’t all that nice. Everyone said it was but from the outside it just looked gross.

“That’s cool. I’m super patient, so good at this.” He nodded enthusiastically. Derek chuckled and shook his head. At least he was willing to try, that was more than could be said about a lot of people.

“I’ve got to go open and run The Den.” Derek lamented.

“Do you want any help? Or I could just get out of your hair. I shouldn’t invite myself along like that. Sorry.” Derek squeezed Stiles’ hands gently.

“No, that’d be nice. It’s mostly a lot of sitting around anyway.”

Derek pushed Stiles back and then hopped down from the counter. He rinsed off their plates before going back to his room and putting on some shoes. Stiles followed suit. He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, so Derek lent him a shirt. All of his clothes were a bit loose, so Stiles was swimming in even his tightest shirt. It was close enough to work, so they headed off into town.

Stiles let his hands swing freely and used them as he talked about how much homework he had in his classes and how he really should be doing some reading. Derek kept his shoved firmly in his pockets. His walk was relaxed but his hands were all but fists. Derek unlocked the bookstore only a few minutes after the sign said they would be open. Walking about, he turned on the lights, set up a few displays, and made sure everything was in its proper place. Stiles sat in Derek’s chair behind the counter and watched. There were a few other chairs scattered throughout the store, fancy overly ornate, comfy chairs that the customers adored. Derek liked them well enough, but it’s not how he would have decorated the place. The fan overhead spun lazily, stirring up the air and making the whole shop hum. It always felt like magic when he first started everything up.

“It’s amazing.” Stiles took in the whole place, fingers running along the edge of the counter.

“Danke.” Derek grabbed a folklore book from one shelf, a book on Ansell Adams from another. “Here you go.” He handed the first book to Stiles, taking the second one for himself. Turning away, he sat down in one of the larger chairs, kicking off his shoes and slipping his feet underneath him. People stopped in every few minutes to look around or buy things. Derek walked over to the register every time some needed to purchase anything, but he preferred to stay in his chair. By lunch time Stiles was getting antsy, looking around the shop, going up and down the stairs, and just being a little tightly wound. In the end, Derek sent him out to go buy sandwiches and coffee from Lydia’s shop. Stiles needed to go outside and move about, and Derek needed him to relax. While he was gone, Derek started up the laptop he kept in the shop. He needed to double check a few money things and just make sure everything was running smoothly. It wasn’t really something he had to do, but he liked knowing his affairs were in order. Stiles tumbled through the door with lunch and Derek closed the lap top.

“The line was super long, sorry.” He set everything down on the front counter. “Also, Lydia told me to remind you that she’s not kidding? I don’t know what that’s about but I told her that we didn’t even kiss.” Derek looked down shamefully.

“I’m sorry about that, I’m just…”

“No! Shoot, no. It’s all good! Take as long as you need. That was an awful thing for me to say I’m just gonna” and then Stiles proceeded to take a large bite out of his sandwich in order to keep himself quiet. At least it worked.

“It’s fine, sometimes people says stuff they don’t really mean. It’s okay.” Derek shrugged and took a bite out of his own sandwich. Stiles tilted his head and looked at him.

“No. They don’t. Not really. I did kinda mean that, but I’m sorry I said it. People tend not to lie accidentally. Less than ten percent of the population is thought to be a pathological liar, but a lot of people do lie or say half truths. Everyone’s pretty consciences about it though.” Stiles took a sip of his iced coffee. Derek guessed he was probably right, people tend to tell at least half truths. Or at least people with nothing to hide did. “Who told you that anyway? That people just spout off lies?”

“Just someone that I used to know when I was a kid.” Derek did his best to say it like it meant nothing. Stiles nodded and continued eating.

“So why the Ansell Adams book?” Stiles barely paused between bites to ask.

“I’ve never really been interested in photography, but I like having a basic knowledge of everything we’ve got in the shop.” Derek hadn’t read most of the books, but he liked to know who the more famous of any section were.

“That’s cool.” They chatted about trivial things until both had finished eating, and then they chatted a little more until closing time. It was mostly Stiles talking and Derek commenting, but he liked it that way. Not having the pressure to carry on the conversation was nice. The pair talked on the way back to Derek’s apartment as well. It was easy for both of them, just chatting and feeling comfortable. Neither had found someone quite like this before, someone with whom everything felt simple and natural. Inside they snacked on strawberries, feet tangled in the middle of the couch while each leaned against their own arm rest.

“Sup Derek, ready t- oh merde, il est toujours là?” Erica swung into his house, bottle of wine in one hand, the other raised in greeting. (shit, he's still here?)

"On a passé la journée ensemble". Derek untangled himself and sat up straight. (We spent the day together-French)

“Mignon.” She set the bottle down in the kitchen before addressing Stiles. “It is Stiles, right?” (Cute-French)

“Yep!” He seemed a little less nervous compared to their last meeting, but not by much. They shook hands this time, Stiles stood up awkwardly to do so, but Derek thought it was cute. “What did I miss with the whole French conversation?”

“I was just telling Derek how cute you two are.” Erica smiled widely, she had always been good at half truths. She and Derek had promised each other long ago to never lie to the other, even in half lies.

“Anyway, I should probably get going. You know, homework and stuff. No big deal, college life.” Stiles gathered up his things that had somehow become thrown about the apartment. “Have fun with your French and wine and stuff.” He stumbled to the door, Derek jumped up after him.

“Wait.” He grabbed the younger man and pulled him in, just a hug, but it was nice. They melted into each other and held tightly. “I’ll text you later. Sorry if I text you tonight.”

“No worries. Bye.” Stiles squeezes once more before disappearing off to his home in town.

“Someone’s got it baa-aaaad.” Erica sing-songed as she opened up the bottle of wine. “You know that if he hurts you or does anything before you want to I will kill him for you.”

Derek smiled, he liked having friends that cared about him so much.

“Actually, he’s demi.” They’d had enough conversations about Derek’s asexuality for her to know the ins and outs of the whole spectrum.

“You’re kidding!” She grabbed two glasses and brought them, along with the wine, with her to the living room. “That’s great. So you think this has a chance then?”

“I hope so.” Derek grab his glace from Erica and took a sip. Red wine had always been one of his favorites.

“Why him?” She took a sip of wine as well. They always tried to start out slow, but by the end of the night the bottle was always empty.

“I don’t know.”

“There must be something about him that stands out. You’re not dating him just cause his the first ace boy you’ve come across, right?” She looked at him coolly over her glass. it was a fair statement.

“No. He’s a cool guy. I liked him before I knew he was demi.” He refilled their glasses. (To be fair, Erica had only filled them about half way the first time.)

“So you two spent the day together. Go out and get breakfast, all that jazz?”

“He might have spent the night.” Derek cringed as Erica let loose a roar of laughter and amazed sounds.

“You sly dog! Look at you, haven’t kissed anyone in ages and already inviting this boy to bed.” She raised her glass and clinked it with Derek’s. “He didn’t do anything without permission, right? I know he’s demi but just cause he’s ace doesn’t mean he doesn’t want a taste!”

“Sauf, sauf que he did try and kiss me? He backed off when I said I wanted to wait and wasn’t comfortable.” (but, but-French)

“Did you tell him you’d never been kissed before?” Erica knew all his lies.
Derek responded by making non-committal facial expressions and hand gestures, waving his glass about a little before taking another sip.

“You’re gonna have to tell ‘m the truth eventually.” She refilled their glasses again.

“I know, but I don’t really count any of that anyway.” Derek took a sip, legitimately trying to slow his drinking. (To be fair, they’re smaller than average wine glasses, more like champagne flutes.)

“That’s good! So you wanna kiss Stiles?” She relaxed into the easy chair even further, limp except for what was required to keep her drink aloft.

“Yes? No? Je ne sais pas.” Derek was often confused and worried and unsure, mostly he was unaware that everyone else felt the same way. (I don’t know-French)

“What’s there to je ne sais pas?” Erica quizzed. “Either you do or ya don’t.”

“Well maybe je ne sais pas, bein?”

“Pas d'accord.” Erica slapped her hand on the coffee table. “qu'est ce qui t'inquiètes?” (No good. What are you worried about?-French)

Derek stayed quiet. He wasn’t quite sure what he was so worried about, but it was forming, a growing pain in the back of his mind. Tickling tendrils that treaded thoughtfully. All the thoughts and worries compiled into a phrase. “Dann würde er wissen, wie kaputt ich bin!"

“Je ne parle pas allemand.” Erica scolded. (I don’t speak German.-French)

“Alors il saura que je suis brisé.” Derek finished off his glass and poured himself, and Erica, another. (Then he will know I am broken-German, French)

“Oh Derek.” She drank more wine. “On ne connaît pas une personne avec un baiser.” (You don’t know a person with one kiss-French)

“Mais s'il peut?” Derek explained. There was too much to worry about. Too many possibilities. (But what if he can-French)

“Invraisemblable.” Erica was better at this stuff then Derek was, so he agreed that it was impossible for someone to completely understand anyone else with just one kiss.

“Si j'ai une autre crise d'angoisse?” He lamented, “il pense que je suis fou.” (What if I have a panic attack? He’ll think I’m crazy. -French)

“Si tu ne veux pas l'embrasser, ne le fait pas.” She often gave up on helping Derek at this point in the conversation. Erica knew he needed to figure it out himself anyway. Mostly she was there because both liked the other’s company. (If you don’t want to kiss him, don’t.-French)

“Mais je veux!” Derek was a very frustrating person to be around at times. (But I want to!-French)

“Ugh!” Erica finished her wine, set the glass on the table, and covered her face with a pillow. Derek tried to pour himself some more wine, only to realize the bottle had become empty. He shrugged, and placed the glass onto the table. The friends got as comfortable as they could on the living room furniture before going to sleep.

Waking up the next morning was always his least favorite activity. Neither of them really had to deal with hangovers, but couches were at their most comfortable when they had been drunkenly slept on. He started up the coffee and they had breakfast together like they always did on Monday mornings. They never carried on the conversation into the morning, part of it was shame and part of it was it felt weird discussing things in English that had already been said in French. Derek checked his phone and made sure that he hadn’t sent any stupid text messages to Stiles. All was well and peaceful in his world. It was a good change of pace.

The next few weeks went by just as smoothly. Derek and Stiles hung out a few times a week and texted when they weren’t together. Stiles didn’t spend the night again, but he did come over for dinner and other meals. A visit to Stile’s house had also been attempted, but when they got there Scott, Stiles’ best friend and room mate, was studying for a huge anatomy and physiology test. They decided to go for coffee instead. Stiles hung out around The Den with Derek too, reading through his collection of folklore. Hugs were exchanged when they met and parted, but they never held hands unless they were in Derek’s house, and they had yet to kiss.

“I know I said I wouldn’t push or anything, but last time I asked you said it’d just be a little bit. You don’t have to prove anything to me or kiss me if you don’t want to, but I’d like to know why, you know? Is it just cause it’d be your first kiss? That’s cool, it’s fine. You’re 23, not everyone’s been kissed by then. You don’t need to worry about being a bad kisser or anything like that.” Stiles sat on a regal chair across from Derek in The Den. No customers were about, and the shop was set to close in a few minutes anyway.

“I don’t really know.” Derek did his best to never lie to Stiles, but he let himself lie about this, and why not? He’d been lying his whole life.

“That’s bullshit.” Stiles closed his book and set it on the floor. “It’s been three weeks since that conversation, over a month since we met! You should at least have some reason you don’t want to. I just want to know why. Is it an ace thing?”

“No it’s not an ace thing.” Derek set his own book on the ground. “I just don’t know, okay?” He didn’t want to have this conversation.

“No!” Stiles snapped. “I just want to know why, okay? I can wait, but I just want to know why.”

“Sometimes you don’t get to know why.” Derek shot back.

“This isn’t one of those times, this is you choosing to withhold information from me. We don’t even hold hands in public!” Stiles’ voice was growing, Derek flinched back. “What, did you think I wasn’t going to notice?”

“Just let this rest.” Derek stood up angrily, and Stiles jumped up after him.

“Damn it, I want you to be okay, I want us to be okay. That can’t happen if you hide everything.” Stiles tried to keep his voice even but it was useless.

“Let me have this.”

“Have what, a brooding guilt trip? Sadness and despair over something that I might be able to help you with?” Stiles felt like pulling his hair out. “I want to help you!”

“Well stop!” Derek yelled as the bell to the store chimed.

“Umm…” The student in the doorway mumbled.

“Leave right now!” Derek yelled at the kid as Stiles turned to glare. The door rang again as it closed. “Can’t you see that I don’t want to talk about this?”

“Well I do. Not everything is about you.”

“Fine! What do you want to know? Why I don’t touch you? Why I have panic attacks? I’ll tell you whatever you fucking want to know but don’t blame me when you’re stuck with the consequences!” They were screaming at each other, empty and desperate.

“Just tell me why you won’t kiss me!” Stiles wanted to punch something, but instead he just clenched his fists.

“Because then you’ll see how fucking broken I am! If you kiss me you’ll just see that I’m just damaged goods! That I’m worthless. You’ll just treat me like all I am is everything that’s happened to me.” Derek took a deep breath and looked Stiles in the eye. “And then what are you gonna do after that? Fix me with more kisses?” He yelled the last lines, daring Stiles to do anything.

“God damn it Derek, find me when you stop having this pity party.” Stiles turned around and marched out the door. Derek shut off the lights, locked up, went home, got changed, and went for a run. He ran until it was dark and he had to find his way home by street lights. Every step was numbered, every move precise. For a while Derek controlled everything in his world.

“What’s wrong?” Isaac asked as Derek stepped inside, soaked with sweat and still not okay.

“Later.” Derek begged as he went to the bathroom. Isaac knew not to argue with that. He started the water and kept his eyes on the door as he stripped. When the water was almost too hot he stepped inside, closed his eyes, and stood still. The water ripped through him how he wished Stiles had. It would have been easier if he had been angry and yelled and screamed at him. At least then it would make sense. But he had left, left him in his sadness. What a dick. He stood and wallowed, running his hands through his hair, pulling at it. Derek pushed on the walls to feel their weight and test his strength. Eventually he gave up on standing and sat down. Curling into himself he broke down and cried. He’d really messed everything up this time. It was just like him to finally get in a good relationship and to ruin it. Why couldn’t he just tell the truth.

“Come on out Derek, shower time’s over.” Erica called from the other side of the door. Isaac was a really good friend. He reached up and turned off the water before getting out and toweling himself off. Slipping back into his workout clothes, he exited the bathroom. Erica pulled him into a hug. Derek nuzzled into the crook of her neck and hugged her back. “It’s okay, it’s not over yet.” Erica petted his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. “Let’s sit down and you can tell me what happened.” They let go and Erica led her to the couch. Boyd had taken up residence on the chair already, and he stood up to hug Derek as well before the man could sit down. After all hugs had been given the three sat down, Erica and Boyd turned to Derek.

“I think we broke up.” Derek started. “He confronted me about why I haven’t kissed him yet. Or hold his hand in public.”

“Did you tell him?” Erica held his hand now, rubbing it gently with her thumb.

“No.” He looked at the chip in the coffee table. “I mostly just yelled and told him that I was crazy and that if he kissed me he would see how broken I am.” Erica flicked his leg.

“That is exactly what I told you wasn’t true.”

“I know, but I’m still worried about it.” He shrugged. Sometimes he worried about things and couldn’t stop worrying about them or see any other way of imagining the situation.

“Then what happened?” Boyd asked from his chair.

“He said to find him after I stopped wallowing.” He pulled his legs up onto the couch.

“That’s good!” Erica squeezed his hand. “He definitely didn’t break up with you for one thing. And secondly, he put the ball in your court and told you to contact him. He wants you to talk to him!”

“I’m going to mess up again.” He pulled his hand from hers and pulled his knees to himself.

“You need to at least try again.”

“He’s right though.” Boyd spoke up again. “You need to find a way out of this mess on your own. Think things through. Tell the truth.” He stood up and Erica went with him. She ruffled his hair before they left him alone.

Now that he was alone, Derek brooded. He went to his room and turned off all the lights. Lying alone in the dark, he felt all his mistake pile up in front of him. Everything that had happened to him that had left him feeling broken and worthless. There was nothing left to go in the stack. He stared and stared at these awful and horrible things. Derek felt overwhelmed and devastated by all the sorrow he saw in his past. Counting breaths he steadied his mind and as he counted he drifted off to sleep.

In the morning he awoke to a feeling of clarity. It could also be a feeling of empty despair, as sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between clean glass and no glass at all. He borrowed Isaac’s ipod and went for his run. As he ran he stuck to the more upbeat songs, bounding on his way as some rap song about a guy with issues played through the headphones. No steps were counted, no times kept. He listened to the music and just breathed. When he came back home he took a quick shower, enjoying his time but knowing there were other things to do. Going to his room he changed into a t-shirt and jeans. Not his most comfortable, but his most professional by far. Before leaving the house he grabbed a handful of almonds to eat on the walk. His first stop was Lydia’s coffee shop.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing here.” She glared at him. “Leave.”

“I want your help.” Derek made his best puppy dog eyes at her.

“You know he came to me last night, right? I was the one he cried to.” She tapped her fingers against the counter. “Also, if you’re not going to buy anything then leave.”

“I’ll take a small caramel mocha and a large iced coffee.” Derek got out his wallet. “What’s the best way to apologies to him?”

“The coffee is a good start.” She took his money and gave him his change and receipt. “Mostly he just wants you to be honest with him.” Lydia began to make his drink as he stepped to the side. “Also, beg a little. I’m not sure he’ll like it but I want to hear about it.” She handed him the drinks.

“Thanks. He means a lot to me.”

“I still haven’t decided if I’m going to castrate you or not.” She grinned. He fled. Stiles wouldn’t be going to his first class for another hour or so, which means he was probably still at home.

On the way to his apartment, Derek made stop number two, florist. One red rose was a more traditional choice, but tulips were more Stiles’ type. A single red tulip later and he was on his way to the school. It’d been a while since he’d stepped onto a college campus, and he had not missed it. As he walked people stared at him, two coffees and a flower, his intentions were painfully obvious. One person had even wished him luck with whatever he was doing. Every step made him feel like this was the best decision he had ever made. When he caught sight of the apartment building, his steps slowed. Every choice he made was second guessed, but it was too late to turn back now. Stiles was leaving the main building, closing the door carefully behind him. Derek ran up and slowed when he was only a yard away.

“Stiles.” He breathed. “Hold these.” Stiles took the coffees automatically. Derek reached up with his now free hands and placed one on Stiles’ hip, the other on his check. “Kiss me?” He whispered.

“Oh mister Hale you certainly know how to make a boy swoon.” Stiles smiled as they leaned together. The kiss did not stop time nor the world around them, but it was all Derek had hoped for. It was sweet and loving.

“My turn” Stiles said as they pulled apart, setting the coffees on the ground before jumping up and wrapping his arms around Derek, kissing him quickly before pulling him into a hug. Derek grinned and held on. “This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

“I know.” Derek set him down and kissed him quickly again, just because he could. “I’m really sorry about yesterday. About yelling at you and for being mean. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have forced you to do or talk about anything and I needed to be patient. Sorry for yelling.” Stiles scuffed the ground with his shoes as Derek picked up the coffees and flower.

“These are for you.” He kept only the caramel mocha for himself. “And I want to tell you. Maybe not all of it but some of it. Do you mind if we go somewhere private?”

“Sure! I was going out to get coffee anyway, so lets just head back to my room and we can chat. Lucky for you Scott is already in class. He really wanted to beat you up after last night. So does Lydia.” He opened the door and led Derek inside. Inside, Stiles pulled Derek along to the couch. “What do you want to say?”

“This isn’t really something I’ve told people. Erica knows, but that’s it. But I think you deserve to know.” Derek forced himself stoic, easy breathing, calm and collected. Stiles nodded in encouragement. “Actually, I am going to back up first. See, there are two things that have happened so far in my life that have greatly effected everything else. The first is that two years ago, my family died in a fire.” He’d practiced this speech over and over before, but it was still hard to say. Derek stuttered on words and his voice cracked. “It was an accident, but the fire killed everyone. It’s why I came back to California. The Den was my family’s shop. And now that I’m the only one left it’s my responsibility.” Stiles squeezed his hand urging him on. “The second is” he stopped, his voice cracked. Derek opened his mouth and nothing came out. “The second thing is that when I was in middle school I was abused. Not my family or anything, a substitute teacher. She pretended to like me, told me so many things and I ate it all up. She. She.”

“It’s okay.” Stiles yanked him forward into a hug. Derek didn’t explain further, didn’t think he could, but it appeared that Stiles understood. “It’s okay. You’re not broken or damaged goods. You are wonderful and so great.” It was only Stiles who cried, Derek had already spent too long feeling sorry for himself. Stiles’ voice was wobbly and tear stained. “I lost my mom too. When I was in fifth grade she got cancer. It’s just me and my dad. It was a long time ago, but it still hurts.” Derek hugged him tighter and they held onto each other desperately. Stiles didn’t cry for long, he too had already spent too much time alone in his pain. Slowly, they drifted apart to either side of the couch. Derek’s coffee was a bit cold and Stiles’ a bit watery, but they drank it anyway.

“So now what?” Derek had never reached the afterwards.

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone with a past like yours.” Derek huffed at Stiles’ confession. It was true he guessed. “Well, actually, I have to go to class. I’ll stop by The Den after school, okay?” Stiles got up and grabbed his back pack.

“Sounds good.” Derek took his coffee and followed Stiles out the door. “You want me to walk you to class?”

“That be awesome.” Stiles almost jumped in excitement. They held hands loosely, Derek still unsure and a bit uncomfortable with public displays of affection. The couple hugged goodbye as always, but this time Derek kissed him lightly on the forehead. Not quite what Stiles had always hoped for, but more wonderful than he had imagined.
Derek opened up The Den as usual, happier than he had been. It didn’t feel very different, being a person who had never been kissed to now being a person who had. Kissing was nice and he’d like to do it again, but mostly because he liked Stiles. He spent his day daydreaming about his boyfriend, about how nice it was to have someone by that title. Boyd stopped by and made sure he was okay. Derek was thankful for the friends in his life. His eyes glanced at the clock on the wall constantly, waiting for Stiles to get out of class, but the next person to walk through the door wasn’t his beloved.

“Hi Derek.” The brown haired girl who had been with Lydia walked into the shop.

“Alison, right?” Derek stood up to great her.

“Yep. Lyd told me that you came into the coffee shop earlier, and then Stiles sent out a very long mass text,” Derek shook his head smiling “so I’m pretty sure I’m up to date on everything. I just wanted to let you know that I’m really happy for you. Also, that I was state champion in archery for five years until I retired from the sport because I didn’t want to go to the Olympics.” She smiled sweetly at him, and he reassessed her. “So I know Lyds has already made a few threats, but don’t think she’s alone. It’s been good to see you again!” Her floral dress flowed gracefully as she spun to the door.

“Nice to see you too.” How did Stiles end up with so many terrifying friends? He contemplated whether or not Scott was actually a super spy when Stiles finally did show up. “Your friends are all very deadly.”

“Who stopped by this time?” Stiles made his way around the counter and kissed Derek on the cheek.

“Alison.” He leaned back against Stiles. “Apparently she’s very good at archery.”

“Oh, is that all she told you, just the archery stuff?” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not about how she’s also good with guns, knives, and could probably kill you with her bare hands too? She’s practically Black Widow.” Stiles’ friends were way too terrifying to be real people, it made more sense that they were super heroes.

“So what’s Scott then? Lydia said she’d castrate me, Alison is an assassin, you’re probably also in cahoots with the local mob boss.” Derek felt safer knowing that he had Erica on his side if all of Stiles’ friends decided to try and kill him. Stiles giggled.

“Scott’s harmless. He’s pretty good at lacrosse but that’s it. And I’m not in with the mob.” Stiles’ stood up apart from Derek who immediately followed him. “My dad’s the sheriff, if I went in with the mob it’d be awful, if anything the mob would be trying to come after me.”

Derek groaned as he made his way over to the large comfy chair, the one that could fit two people. Of course Stiles’ dad was the sheriff. He looked into his future and saw a lot of time being randomly searched, stopped, and otherwise questioned by law enforcement officials. At least he didn’t have to worry about getting pulled over. His car was in storage. The pair sat down together in the love seat, Stiles laid his legs on Derek’s lap, his hands too busy gesticulating to hold.

“You shouldn’t have to worry about him too much, he knows I have a boyfriend but he doesn’t have all the details….” He trailed off, growing quiet as he chewed on his lip.

“Stiles?” Derek asked coolly.

“Well, he doesn’t have all the details which is why he wants to meet you. Specifically he wants us to all have dinner together. At his place. Tomorrow night.” Stiles put on his best doe eyes and looked up at Derek apologetically. “Sorry I forgot to tell you sooner, it’s just that things had, you know, our fight and all.”

“That’s okay. Where does he live?” Derek rubbed circles into Stiles’ calf with his thumb.

“On Cherry Tree by the old fire station. He wants us to both be there by six, so probably show up at five forty five to be safe. Bring white wine, nothing too expensive. Just something to show that you’re a good kid who thinks things through. Dress nicely but casually, I don’t want him to think you’re trying too hard or anything. Oh! And-”

“Stiles.” Derek cut him off. “It will be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I know, I just want him to like you.”

“That would probably help.” Stiles hit him in the arm lightly for his snide comment. “It’ll be great.”

In the end it was great, but at first it was mostly very awkward.

“Sheriff.” Derek greeted from the doorway to the Stilinski house.

“Derek.” They shook hands briefly. The sheriff was out of uniform, but Derek was unsure how to great him. Stiles stood behind his dad, trying to be encouraging by smiling and giving Derek a thumbs up. “Why don’t you come inside kid.” He led the way to the kitchen. The house was painted in light colors, making the space seem well lit and spacious. Photos of a young Stiles hung on the wall, and some of him and his dad were on there too. Derek only saw one picture that featured a woman, presumably Stiles’ mom. On the dining room table was a myriad of guns. “Oops. Silly me. I meant to put these away before you got here.”

“Sure dad, sounds believable.” Stiles stood equidistant from both of them, trying not to look like he was picking sides. The sheriff gathered up his guns and put them in the safe in the living room.

“Don’t worry sir, Stiles’ friends have already threatened me.” Derek provided. Stiles slapped a hand to his face.

“I’m glad to hear that, but I don’t want to be left out. It’s my fatherly privilege to threaten you. And since we’re on the topic, seems pertinent to remind you that I can make your death look like an accident and have it never be inspected by the police.” He put the last gun away and closed the safe. Stiles’ hand remained firmly adhered to his face.

“Good to know.” Derek was terrified, but he didn’t let it show. Showing weakness would be a sure sign of defeat.

“Hey Derek, why don’t you help me finish making dinner over here in the kitchen far away from my dad and his guns?” Stiles was a master of subtlety. His father went back to the living room. “Keep stirring that.” Stiles pointed to a sauce pan on the stove. Derek did as he was told until Stiles forced his way in-between him and his job. “Hi.” He said, kissing Derek gently.

“Hey.” Derek leaned their foreheads together. “Don’t worry, I think this is going well.” Stiles scoffed but didn’t protest. They separated as the oven’s timer went off, Stiles went into a frenzy getting the meatloaf out of the oven.

“Smells delicious.” The sheriff called from the living room.

“That’s cause you can’t smell the tofu in it.” Stiles whispered as he hip checked Derek. He transferred the meatloaf onto a serving dish and took the sauce from Derek. There were a few covered bowls in the kitchen that Stiles directed him to put on the table. The sheriff came into the kitchen and grabbed the plates and silver ware. When the table was set, everyone grabbed a seat. It was a round table so the sheriff couldn’t sit between his son and his son’s boyfriend even if he wanted to. Which he did.

“So Derek, why don’t you tell me about yourself.” The sheriff asked as he loaded up his plate. “Stiles has neglected to give me any information at all besides your name.”

“I own and run The Den.” Derek took his turn grabbing food. “It’s a bookstore in downtown.”

“Interesting. Do you have a criminal record of any sort?”

“Dad!”

“If he doesn’t want to tell me that’s fine. I can look it up.”

“I got a speeding ticket once, but that’s it.” Derek had never been more thankful to have never committed a crime.

“Excellent.” Stiles’ dad cut into his meatloaf. “Do you have a college education?” Stiles hated this interrogation, but if his dad didn’t ask then he would just look it up later. There was no point in stopping him, and it looked like Derek was keeping his head above water.

“I had to leave school junior year to take over the book store.”

“Right, I’m sorry about that.” The sheriff spoke solemnly. “What were you studying?” The questions were asked more kindly now then before, but it still sounded like an interview.

“Linguistics.” Derek had grown up with a love of languages.

“Yeah, Derek speaks four languages fluently and knows a little bit of a few others.” Stiles added.

“What languages do you speak?” It was apparent at that moment where Stiles’ got his mischievous grin from.

“English, German, French, and Italian. I know a little bit of Greek, but not much.” Derek had just never really gotten around to learning Greek after he left school.

“So not Polish then?”

“No sir.”

“Doskonale.” The sheriff turned to Stiles. “Nie wiem, czy go lubię, ale nie nie lubić go.” (Excellent. I don’t know if I like him, but I don’t dislike him-Polish)

“Naprawdę tato?” Stiles sighed. Derek didn’t know much about Polish, but the way Stiles spoke it was beautiful. (Really dad?-Polish)

“Tylko taka zabawa. Anyway, Derek, how did you and Stiles meet? All he would say is that it was at your book store.” The sheriff side eyed Stiles, who now had both hands covering his blushing face. (Just having a little fun-Polish)

“Now that is a great story.” Derek knocked his foot against Stiles’. “He came in to buy some folklore books and ended up knocking all of the books on that shelf to the floor. At least one hundred books came crashing down in the back of my shop. So I go see what happened and there he is, on the floor, looking like a wet cat, saying how he couldn’t reach the top shelf.” Derek and the sheriff chuckled as Stiles continued to hang his head in shame. “So I made him help me put everything back in it’s place. He paid me back in coffee, and we ended up here.” He tapped his foot against Stiles’ again.

“That certainly sounds like Stiles.” The sheriff shook his head and took another bite of food.

Stiles changed the conversation topic after that. Everyone’s nerves calmed down, so dinner ended well. The couple washed the dishes while the sheriff watched the game. It was nice, domestic, an easy part to play for a few hours. They were both invited to stay and watch the rest of the game with Stiles’ dad, but Derek was tired and Stiles wanted some alone time with his boyfriend. Before they left, the sheriff pulled Derek aside.

“I’m sorry about your family kid, they were good people.”

“Thank you.” Derek nodded.

“I think you and Stiles could be good together, just be gentle.” He clapped a hand to Derek’s shoulder and then sent him away, back to Stiles.

“Everything okay?”

“I think so.” Derek wasn’t even lying at all.

They spent the night curled up on Derek’s couch, Stiles chattered on about school and Derek listened half way. It was nice and easy, not all the time of course, but at this moment it was light as air.

Through it all they make it work. Some days Derek doesn’t say a word, and Stiles learns how to stay quiet with him. They take hikes in the forest nearby and they exchange their knowledge of flora and fauna. There are days where Stiles gets wrapped up in research or school and Derek is the one who pulls him out of his mind for. He brings him coffee and helps him just breathe for a little while. Derek exercises less, relaxes more, in the end it’s being less fit that made him more comfortable with his body. The pair go running together about once a week (they made a play list so that they can listen to the same music as they run). A few online classes and Derek has his Bachelor’s degree, he still runs The Den, but he also spends some time translating. Stiles graduates on time and starts his own research in regards to folklore. They move in together after Stiles graduates, Isaac decides to move out of his own accord.

It’s not always that easy. They fight. They argue and push each other. Stiles panics during finals week and doesn’t run away because Derek talks him out of it. Derek learns his triggers the hard way: when Stiles is playing around and blows a raspberry on his belly or when he forgets about the roast in the oven and smoke fills the house. They spend some nights crying together, falling asleep when they become too exhausted to stay awake. Both of them spend a few nights sleeping alone on the couch. After Stiles tells Derek he loves him for the first time, Derek freaks out and spends the night at Erica’s house, worried about the implications of a demi forming an emotional attachment. Erica and Boyd kick him out in the morning, telling him to talk to Stiles. They stay open and honest and Derek tells Stiles he loves him only a few days after.

Derek is the one who proposes, Stiles is so excited he forgets to say yes for a few days. It isn’t until they are lying in bed together one evening that he becomes panic stricken and finally tells Derek he’ll marry him. Derek had already figured it out, but it was nice to hear it anyway. Everyone cries during the ceremony, even the Sheriff. Their first kiss as husbands reminds Derek of their very fist kiss: simple, sweet, and perfect.