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Stiles is fuming—furious!—as he paces in front of his bed. Another fight with another big bad, and Derek throwing himself into danger before the pack could arrive...again!
His window creaks open, letting in the cool night air. Derek climbs through, shirt still torn and bloody from the fight. Stiles’s blood boils at the sight.
“You can’t—” He glares at the ‘wolf, who stares at the ground. “Uh uh, no way!” He rushes to stand in front of Derek, pushing his chest into the alpha. “You look at me when I’m talking to you!”
Derek’s head snaps up at the heated words, eyes flaring red for just a moment before he clenches his jaw. “What was I supposed to do, Stiles?”
“Let us help you! What’s the point of a pack if you’re constantly leaving us behind?” War drums beat in Stiles’s chest, his vision swims in a sea of red. ‘Leaving me behind’ is what he wants to yell.
“Stiles…” Derek’s tone is petal-soft, throwing Stiles off.
Stiles narrows his eyes as he stares at Derek questioningly. “What? Stiles, what, Derek?” His anger wanes as he takes in the worry etched across Derek’s face. “Talk to me…” he begs, voice breaking like glass.
Derek sighs, taking his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, leaning forward, to rest their foreheads together. The gesture is a surprise. For all the stolen glances and lingering touches, they’ve never done this.
“That’s not good enough. You can’t keep doing this, Derek. I can’t— God! If something had happened to you…” Stiles can’t continue, the thought is too much to bear. Tears sting his eyes, threatening to overflow. He can’t help but lean into the touch as Derek’s fingers caress his cheek.
“I know. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I won’t.”
Stiles grips Derek’s waist, tentatively pulling him closer. He doesn’t want to scare Derek away, but he needs him to be close, to feel he’s alright. He puffs out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding when Derek relaxes against him. “Good. Because I’m not k—mmpf!”
He’s cut off as Derek’s lips crash against his own. It’s a bruising kiss, and it takes his brain a minute to catch up to the realization that Derek is kissing him! He returns the kiss with equal vigor, climbing Derek’s bruised and battered body, closing the gap between them. He’s a panting mess when Derek pulls away.
They stare at each other long and hard. What does this mean, Stiles wonders? And just as he’s about to ask, Derek steps forward again, cupping his face.
Derek places a much gentler kiss on him this time. One laced with so much emotion that it leaves Stiles weak in the knees. An arm snakes around his back, holding him in place.
“Stiles.” Derek says his name like a prayer.
Resting his forehead on Derek’s shoulder, Stiles gathers his thoughts. “What is this, Derek? What are we doing?”
Derek takes a deep breath before speaking. “I want to be with you, Stiles. I know we haven’t talked about it, that I’ve never said anything, but…”
“I want that too.” The words rush from Stiles’s mouth, too scared that Derek might take his pronouncement back. “But why now, Derek?”
“When you showed up… When I saw you standing there? The look on your face— Knowing I put that there. It made me sick. And when you walked away? I realized how much I wanted you to stay, how much I need you. I love you, Stiles.”
Throwing his arms around Derek’s shoulders, he whispers, “And I love you, Derek,” and kisses him with the promise of tomorrow, of their future, of forever.