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Stiles’ eyes narrowed as he examined the numerous purple and white wrappers sticking out of the trashcan. Stiles didn’t need to see the orange packets of mild sauce to know it was evidence of large Taco Bell haul. Stiles smirked to himself as he wandered away from the small kitchen of Derek’s loft, and stood in front of the long wall of windows.
He ran his fingers along the old panes, his finger nails chipping away some of the paint that stuck to the glass as a result of a sloppy paint job from long ago. Stiles figured he’d wait around for a few minutes before Derek would inevitably emerge and ask what Stiles was doing there. Because Derek was nothing if not predictable.
The minutes ticked by and by. Stiles absentmindedly unlocking his phone over and over just to stare at the time and relock it. If it wasn’t for the faint rustling and the every so often squeak of bed springs, Stiles would have thought the place vacant. Stiles began tapping rhythms on the glass, his knuckles rapping louder with each passing minute. Derek didn’t come out. Stiles sighed eventually, and whispered a feeble warning.
"This is your fault. You’re forcing me to do this."
Stiles walked over to the rusted metal staircase. He was surprised at how little noise it made as he spiraled up it. His head peeked out at the ground level of Derek’s bedroom. Stiles didn’t really know what to expect when climbing up there, but Derek sitting cross legged on the floor leaning against the side of his mattress, surrounded by Taco Bell paper bags and two pints of empty Hagen Daz containers was not even in the realm of possibility in Stiles’ mind. But yet, that’s what awaited him. That and a few Snickers bars and a half eaten Reese’s peanut butter cup.
Derek had his head tilted back against the bed, his eyes closed, and a smear of chocolate on his bottom lip. Upon closer inspection Stiles noticed black earbuds in his ears and could faintly hear a blasting melody escaping. Stiles climbed up the last couple stairs and took a step towards Derek, suddenly feeling like he shouldn’t be there at all.
“Um, Derek?” Stiles waved awkwardly. Derek’s nose twitched and his chest took two large inhales before his eyebrows scrunched together. He opened his eyes just a smidgen before exhaling loudly and jerking the headphones out of his ears.
“What are you doing here?”
Stiles shrugged. “Well, I’m at your loft because I wanted to go over some of the the whole Argent-Hale-McCall-Stilinski Alliance thing. You didn’t come down, so I investigated. And you’re having an indoor picnic…which kind of defeats the purpose of a picnic, being that their sole purpose is to be held outdoors. They also are normally served on a red checkered blanket with a wicker basket. A probably a frisbee. I feel like those two just sort of go together. So, what’s the occasion?” Derek offered a glare up as a response. Stiles rolled his eyes, and took it in stride. “What going through a bad break up?” Stiles smiled, only to then pale. “Oh shit sorry, that’s like really insensitive. Fuck, I was just, yeah.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair and looked towards the ground, finding immense entertainment in trying to read the miniscule font upside down on crinkled wrappers.
“I was hungry.”
“Raw rabbits not doing it for you?”
“Werewolf, were meaning man, aka human, Stiles.”
“Yeah, werewolf. Last I checked, wolves eat raw animals, and they certainly don’t have pockets to keep spare change to pay for a Taco Bell run. And really? Taco Bell? That’s for stoners and poor college students.” Derek sighed again.
“Why are you here?”
“Why are you eating your feelings?” Derek crumpled up the wrapper nearest him, and chucked it at Stiles’ direction. Stiles ducked, then plopped himself on the ground in front of Derek. Picking up the peanut butter cup he’d seen earlier, Stiles took a bite before flicking the wrapper at Derek. “Throwing trash at someone is no way to treat a guest.”
“You’re an intruder, not a guest.”
“Yeah, pretty sure if I have a key, I’m not an intruder.”
“How’d you get a key?”
“Stole it off Cora’s key ring, and made a copy. But still not an intruder, because you totally want me here.”
“Do I?” Derek scoffed in disbelief, no longer eating the stuffed burrito by his side.
“Yep.”
“And why do you think that?”
“Well, besides the obvious if-you-really-didn’t-want-me-here-you’d-have-literally-kicked-me-out-by-now thing?”
“Besides that…”
“You so kindly bought my favorite ice cream. Don’t act like you got Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia for yourself.” Stiles snatched the pint and pulled off the lid, licking the excess of of it. Derek’s eyes glowed blue for a moment, and Stiles pretended not to notice.
“Laura used to love that kind.” Derek looked down, tearing off pieces of the burrito’s wrapper. “No one else in my family liked it. It was the only ice cream that was safe for her to eat without anyone else stealing it.” Stiles took his next bite more gingerly, the cherry and dark chocolate tasting richer, having more depth.
“Is today her…” Stiles dropped off the question when Derek began to shake his head.
“Birthday? No. Just…Cora reminds me a lot of her and sometimes…if I’m not paying attention, I think it’s her, Laura.” Derek uncrossed his legs and laid them straight out. “I know she’s Cora, I know that. But I missed her growing up. She was ten when I last saw her, and now she’s a miniature Laura. I never thought I’d get Cora back, and when Laura died…I didn’t think I’d ever have a family again. It’s just…odd.”
“Did anything happen recently?”
“No.” Derek said it cautiously, resigned, as if he didn’t completely agree with his own statement.
“It’s harder some days.” Stiles spoke softly, a force of habit whenever his thoughts and words seemed to connect and center themselves around his mom. Derek’s lip tugged up slightly; he nodded in agreement. They sat in content silence for several minutes. Stiles ended up sprawling on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Derek joined him shortly. They laid side by side, breathing in unison, though as much as Derek tried he couldn’t get his heart beat to sync with Stiles’ slightly quickened rate. The room was now dark, and Stiles couldn’t recall noticing the light dim let alone the horizon turning a dark midnight blue. Stiles looked outside the window examining the salt sprinkled sky, then returning to the enclosed ceiling. “You should put a skylight in. You know just kind of tear some of this off. You’d get a great view of the stars.” Derek huffed a laugh beside him.
“It be a great door for the next supernatural disaster that goes bump in the night too.”
“We could put a bell.”
“I think the shattering glass would be enough of a warning.”
Stiles chuckled and gently knocked his elbows against Derek’s ribs.
“Hey, Derek?”
“Yeah.”
“Next time, uh, let me know.” Derek was quiet, and Stiles could hear him turn his head. Stiles waited as long as physically possible, before he turned and locked eyes with Derek, who was suddenly way too close. Stiles swallowed, then offered up a shy smile. The next word Derek would say was simple and maybe seen by others as meaningless, but the confidence it instilled in Stiles was astounding. He knew without a doubt that there would be more quiet healing times like this. Because Derek put in more meaning, more promise, in this one word then most people could put in five minute pledge. It was simple and true, and it was just so Derek.
“Okay.”