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Derek looks up at the sky and watches the fireworks explode above the tree line. It's the first year that he's spending in the newly rebuilt house, the first change of years with him back in Beacon Hills permanently. It feels strange—his family never really celebrated the turning of the years, their important days different from the regular human ones—but it doesn't feel wrong like watching the celebrations did in the past years.
It's a new start, at least that's what he's told through media and news, that's what people around him seem to think with their resolutions and goals for the next 365 days. He doesn't have any, not anymore. His only goal, now that the house is done and he's all moved in, is to be okay. He holds no illusions about the recovery from his past that he still needs to go through, despite having made massive strides forward in that regard. But "okay" seems like a good thing to aim for.
He hasn't been, he realizes when a particularly loud firework's explosion makes him jump a little and he feels panic rise in his chest. But where normally he would already be flashing his eyes and having trouble holding back his shift, this one's just mild surprise.
What is more surprising is that through all the explosions in the distance, while the fireworks are still lighting up the town below the Preserve, he can clearly hear the familiar rumbling of a baby blue Jeep as it approaches through the woods.
Stiles.
Because Derek's not the only one who returned to Beacon Hills. He's not the only one who came back to his roots and decided to set up camp and settle down. Sure, Scott's still around, as are all the parents, but the rest of what was once a pack is scattered across several countries and continents. Lydia is on the east coast, Jackson and Ethan in London, Isaac found a new home in France and Cora is, to the best of Derek's knowledge, still in South America. Kira's parents took an extended leave and went to Japan, with Kira herself following them once she finished college.
They meet up, but most of their communication is through emails and phone calls, not in person.
Derek likes it that way, somehow. He knows that if he needs anything, there are people only a call away, and he's finally getting to the point where he's not afraid or hesitant to make it.
But then there's Stiles. The mystery, the enigma, the continuous presence in Derek's life, no matter where he is or what either of them are doing. He's there, whether Derek asks or not, like he has a link to Derek that tells him when he's needed.
Like now.
Stiles stumbles out of the Jeep the same way he used to back when he was a teenager and chuckles at himself because he's nowhere near as uncoordinated these days. Then he strides over to where Derek is standing on the new porch and stops right at the foot of the stairs.
"Hey there," he says, smiling.
"Hey. Happy new year," Derek replies quietly, with an answering smile of his own.
"So, why are you here all by your lonesome?" Stiles asks. "You're not reverting back to your lurker wolf ways, are you?"
Derek shakes his head. "It seemed right, to start the new year in the new house."
"Ah yes, you're a homeowner again," Stiles says, glancing around and up at the house behind Derek. "Permission to join you?"
This time, Derek nods and Stiles is up on the porch barely a beat later.
"Nice view," he says, looking up and above the trees.
"You could see the fireworks from here," Derek tells him, but he keeps his eyes on the forest.
"Maybe I'll get to watch them from here next year," Stiles says.
It's a question, but it's also not. It feels like he's leaving it to Derek to decide.
"I'd like that," Derek says, finally looking away from the trees and at Stiles, who's already turned to him.
"So. New year? New start?" Stiles asks.
"New beginnings," Derek says.
It doesn't take much courage or internal debate to reach out and cup his hand around Stiles's cheek. It's been a long time coming, wanting this, trying for them. When he sees Stiles's head move in an almost imperceptible nod, it's the easiest thing in the world to lean in and kiss him.
It feels like the best start.