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Derek sat staring down at the gold band he held, flipping it slowly between his fingers and watching the light bounce off its shiny surface. He’d been staring at it a lot lately. Ever since he’d bought it, actually. He would find a quiet place to himself, pull it out, and stare at it, wondering if he was really going to do this.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, because he did. He really did. He’d never wanted to do something so badly in his entire life. He just didn’t know if he wanted to do that to the love of his life.
Flipping the ring between his fingers, he tilted his head, listening to the slow and steady breathing coming from upstairs. Where Stiles was. Sleeping.
Where Stiles always was when Derek came downstairs to stare at the ring.
He’d bought it almost five months ago, because he’d known for years, ever since he’d first seen that stupid, gangly kid in the woods, that he would always end up here. With him. They’d been acquaintances for twelve years. They’d been friends for eleven. They’d been dating for eight.
Derek had just turned thirty-one, and Stiles still laughed at the fact that he was an old man now. Derek just reminded him he had two more years to go before he, too, became an ‘old man.’
It was after one of those ‘old man’ comments that Derek realized this was someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He knew he didn’t have to marry Stiles for that to happen, but he wanted to. He wanted it to be official. On paperwork and everything. He wanted to be able to call Stiles his husband, and not just his boyfriend.
He’d gone out to buy the ring kind of on a whim. He wanted Stiles, he wanted to be with him for as long as he would have him, and he wanted to do this right.
But every time the opportunity presented itself, every time Stiles was right there and Derek could ask him, and it’d be perfect, he talked himself out of it. And not because he didn’t want this, but because he didn’t want to do that to Stiles.
Stiles had been thrust into this life when he was barely sixteen years old. He’d been forced to grow up knowing all the horrible things that went bump in the night were real, and most of them wanted to eat him. He’d been kidnapped, tortured, abused, possessed, and nearly killed more times than Derek could count.
He always bounced back eventually. Always brushed off each near-death with a joke, and waved off concern with sarcasm and a cocky grin. He complained constantly, but never about the life he’d been forced to live the day Derek’s uncle had decided Scott would make a good Beta.
Stiles deserved so much better than a life with Derek. He deserved so much more than anything Derek could offer him. He didn’t feel good enough for Stiles. He felt like Stiles was almost... settling. Like he could have much better, but because he was in this life, he needed to be with someone who was also in this life, and Derek was just... convenient.
Derek knew it wasn’t like that, and that Stiles would be devastated if he knew what he was thinking, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted so much more for Stiles than a life in Beacon Hills, fighting off the next monster of the week.
Stiles was brilliant, and a go-getter, and could really be something. He’d been going places, even back when he’d still been in high school. And what was he doing now? IT support for a company across the state.
Brilliant, dedicated, loyal, amazing Stiles was asking people questions like, “Did you try turning it off and on again?” on a daily basis.
Sure, he liked it, because he worked from home and could basically lounge around and watch television whenever he wasn’t on a call, but Derek hated it. He knew Stiles could do so much better, and he knew at one time Stiles had wanted to leave Beacon Hills. Work for the FBI. Make a difference in the world.
But he hadn’t. Because he’d stayed.
For Derek.
Because this was Derek’s territory, and even if he wasn’t the Alpha, he was a Hale, and this was Hale land, and he couldn’t abandon it. So, Derek stayed. And Stiles stayed because Derek did.
Derek kept insisting that Stiles didn’t need to work, considering Derek made more than enough money for the both of them, but Stiles insisted. He wanted to work, he wanted to contribute, and he never seemed to mind his job, though Derek suspected that might be for his benefit.
He didn’t want this life for Stiles. But the problem was, he wanted to keep him. He loved Stiles more than he ever thought possible, considering who he was and what he’d lost. He’d walled up his heart and locked away his feelings years ago, and bit by bit, Stiles had been chipping away at the wall and picking the lock. Derek didn’t even remember it happening, he just knew one day, he didn’t hate that kid who always came around.
Then he realized he liked that kid. Then he realized he really liked that kid. And next thing he knew, Stiles was at university and Derek was driving up there after getting a call from him that sounded somewhat distressing, and next thing he knew he was there the whole weekend. Then the whole week. And then he rented a place on campus and things had kind of just... fallen into place.
But he didn’t know if this was what Stiles truly wanted, or if it was all just convenience. He didn’t know if he wanted to saddle Stiles with the responsibility of being married to him. Being stuck in Beacon Hills forever, answering stupid calls and asking people if they’d thought to turn their machine off and on again. He didn’t want this life for Stiles, because he didn’t think he would be happy. Here. With him.
He didn’t think he was good enough for him. He’d never thought he was good enough for him, and firmly believed he still wasn’t. That he’d managed to keep him around this long was something of a miracle, in his opinion, and now...
Derek wanted to spend the rest of his life with Stiles, but he didn’t know if that was what Stiles would want. Maybe he’d say yes only because he didn’t want to hurt Derek. Maybe he’d secretly resent him for the entirety of their marriage, until the day one of them was on their death bed and Stiles admitted, “I regret you.”
He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to think that was anything Stiles would ever say to him, but the ‘what if’ resonating in his mind was pretty loud.
“What are you doing down here?”
Derek stiffened and hastily shoved the ring into the pocket of his sweats. He’d been distracted by his thoughts and hadn’t heard Stiles wake up.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said softly, Stiles’ footsteps padding towards him. He came around the side of the couch, and then promptly lay down with his head in Derek’s lap, shifting onto his side so one hand was cradling his own face and the other was wrapped around Derek’s waist. He closed his eyes and exhaled softly, looking like he was getting comfortable so he could go back to sleep.
“What’s wrong?” he asked sleepily.
Derek reached out one hand, sliding his fingers through Stiles’ hair, the other coming up to rub lightly at his back. “Doesn’t matter,” he whispered.
“Does to me,” Stiles peeked open one sleepy eye. “What’s going on?”
“Just thinking,” Derek hedged. “How come you’re not sleeping?”
“Because I woke up and my boyfriend was gone. And then he didn’t come back, so I went to hunt him down.” Stiles closed his eyes once more and inhaled deeply. “Found him. I am a good hunter. He would disagree, but I think I’m pretty great.”
Derek couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his features, still running his fingers through Stiles’ hair, then scratching lightly at his scalp, enjoying the soft sound of contentment escaping him.
“You found him, didn’t you? I’d say that makes you a pretty good hunter.”
Stiles just hummed in response, nuzzling against Derek’s leg and his own hand and tightening the other arm around his waist, clearly ready for sleep. Derek kept running his fingers through his hair, staring down at his face. He had some stubble, likely because he hadn’t shaved in a while since Stiles tended to get lazy about that working from home.
He’d lost a lot of baby fat in his face since he’d hit his twenties, and he was a little taller than he had been back when Derek had met him. Leaner, too. More muscled.
And scarred.
Stiles had a lot of scars.
Nothing grotesque, nothing Derek thought he was embarrassed or ashamed of, but he hated seeing them on Stiles’ skin. He hated looking at parts of his body and knowing that a particular scar was from that time he got shot, and that other one was when a Werewolf had tried to rearrange his insides, and that other one was when he’d had a giant scorpion tail impale him, and so on and so forth.
Other people had scars from falling off their bikes as toddlers, or cutting into their fingers while making dinner, or even doing something reckless and crazy. Stiles had scars because monsters tried to kill him on a daily basis. Because of the life he led.
Because of Derek.
“Stop thinking so loud,” Stiles mumbled sleepily, shifting closer so his nose was pressed right up against Derek’s stomach. “You’re making it hard to sleep.”
“Sorry, I’ll think more quietly.”
“Or you could stop thinking,” Stiles insisted, peeking open one eye. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Do you, now?” Derek asked, a little amused.
“Yeah. Because you get like this sometimes. And I give you space, or I try to, but this is a relationship and you can’t decide what I want without me being part of the conversation.”
Derek’s hands stilled, and he stared down at Stiles like he’d never seen him before. Because of course Stiles would know exactly what Derek was doing sitting down in the living room in the middle of the night in the dark. Of course Stiles knew it was about him.
“How do you do that?” he asked softly.
“I just know you.” Stiles grunted and rolled onto his back, staring up at Derek. He still looked tired, but he was more alert now that he knew the problem was him. “Always wanting everyone else to be happy, even at the risk of sacrificing your own happiness.”
“Some people’s happiness is more important than mine,” Derek said, brushing one thumb gently along Stiles’ cheek.
“Did it ever occur to you that your happiness is more important to other people than their own?” Stiles asked, giving him a look. “You haven’t had much to be happy about in your life, can you at least let me help make you happy right now? Your happiness means everything to me, and I hate knowing you’re down here angsting in the middle of the night by yourself.”
“I’m not angsting.” Derek rolled his eyes.
“Brooding then, whatever.”
“Not brooding, either. Just thinking.”
“Then think upstairs. In bed. Wrapped around me like an octopus.” Stiles reached out one hand and poked at Derek’s nose. “I don’t like it when you try and make decisions for me. That never works out in your favour, and I always win anyway.”
Derek just sighed, moving his hand back to Stiles’ hair, raking his fingers through the strands. “I just don’t want you to regret anything.”
“I don’t regret anything,” Stiles insisted.
“You wanted to be in the FBI.”
“Yeah, and then I realized that was a bad idea since I know more than those yahoos, and I’d probably end up in federal prison. Or locked away in some underground secret facility. Besides, I wasn’t getting enough action in the FBI, which is a crazy thing to realize, but I’m definitely more active chasing after monsters with you and the rest of the pack.”
“You’re way too smart for the job you have.”
“Hey, I like my job.” Stiles scowled. “I get to use my skills to help improve the infrastructure of the company, and I only occasionally have to answer stupid calls. And the calls don’t even bother me because they just make me laugh. And I get to stay in my pyjamas and watch TV pretty much all day while I’m working, I’m living the dream.”
Derek stared down at him, and wished he had the nerve to say it. Wished he could force the words out of himself. You’re too good for me.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t say them.
Maybe his expression said them for him, because Stiles’ features shifted and he reached up with one hand, pulling Derek’s face down and kissing him lingeringly before pressing his forehead against Derek’s.
“I love you,” he said softly. “Even when you forget to buy laundry detergent. Even when you don’t load the dishwasher. Even when you drive me so crazy I think I might murder someone, I still love you. I’ve loved you for a long time, Derek, and nothing you ever do or say is going to change that. You’re stuck with me, and there’s no refunds. Receipt’s been expired for a long time, so you’re just gonna have to live with the knowledge that I belong here, with you, and there’s nothing you can ever do about it.” He kissed him again lightly, then released him so Derek could sit up properly.
“I just don’t want you to have any regrets,” Derek said again quietly.
“The only regret I’d ever have in my life is not having you in it.” Stiles reached up to poke his nose again. “And maybe that I didn’t punch Jackson in the mouth before he moved to England, jury’s still out on that one.”
Derek let out a small laugh, and bent down again to kiss at Stiles’ lips. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Can we go back upstairs and go to sleep now?”
“I suppose.”
Stiles let out a loud groan while slowly getting to his feet, whining about being old, but finding solace in reminding Derek that he was older. Derek just followed behind him back up the stairs, using the elevated stance to push up Stiles’ shirt to lick and suck at the base of his spine. He had to stop once they reached the top, but Stiles turned and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, letting him walk him backwards to the bed. They stopped before falling onto it so nobody would end up getting hurt, and then resumed kissing once they were both comfortably lying down.
It was a lazy makeout session, and very short, because Stiles was evidently extremely tired, but Derek still relished every moment he had with him, kissing him softly before pulling away completely so Stiles could twist and lie down properly. Derek went back to the stairs to turn the light off downstairs, then returned to the bed to crawl under the covers, wrapping his arms around Stiles, who let out a happy hum and eased back into him, Derek’s chest pressed flush against Stiles’ back.
Something was pressing into Derek’s thigh from this position, and he had to release Stiles—despite his whine—to reach into his pocket to try and get rid of the problem.
He pulled the ring out and stared at it. He wanted to wait for the right moment. He wanted to make sure this was what Stiles wanted, what he truly wanted. But Stiles had been with him for eight years. He’d never once commented on breaking up. They’d been living together for at least seven years, and Stiles had basically told him he was never getting rid of him.
They didn’t need to have a big, fancy engagement. They didn’t need to throw a huge party, make a big deal of it, have everyone know the moment Derek asked him. Why couldn’t the right moment be here, lying in bed together, enjoying each other’s warmth and the knowledge that neither of them slept well when the other wasn’t there? Who said engagements had to be some big to-do?
“Stiles?”
“Mm?” he asked sleepily, nuzzling into his pillow.
Derek moved the ring to his other hand, then reached out to find Stiles’ left hand. When he did, it was easy to manoeuvre the ring onto his relaxed hand, Stiles stiffening the moment Derek slid it past the first knuckle.
It fit fairly well, though might have been a touch too big. Not enough for it to need resizing, but enough that Stiles would have no problems slipping it on and off.
Stiles turned in bed to look at him, eyes wide and heart going a mile a minute. Derek felt like his might be going faster, because silence with Stiles was never a good thing.
“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Derek said quietly in the darkness of their room. “You can think about it, and—”
Stiles was on top of him instantly, hands on his face and lips on his, kissing him so hard it was almost painful.
“You fucking stupid dickhead,” Stiles insisted between kisses, biting along Derek’s jaw and rubbing his cheek against his. “I fucking love you so much, you idiot.”
“That’s not technically a yes,” Derek informed him.
Stiles slapped him in the side, but still said, “Yes,” before going for his mouth again.
Derek couldn’t help but smile around the kiss, wrapping his arms around Stiles and rolling them over.
Maybe Derek didn’t think he was good enough for Stiles, but he wanted him. Oh, did he want him. So he would spend however long he needed to in order to deserve him.
Even if it took him the rest of his life.
END.