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The loft is home in a strange way. With all the memories associated with it, good and bad, it's the one place that everyone in the pack is familiar with. That's the main reason why Derek has held on to the building even though for a long time, it was lying empty.
He doesn't live there, not anymore. When the war was over, he didn't come back to Beacon Hills to live, he didn't settle anywhere. Instead, he was the moving piece between the pack members, the connection between them, no matter where they were. Derek spent his time coordinating their communication and meeting with all of them face to face when necessary. In times of crisis, there were times when he'd fly from the south of France where he'd met Isaac to London—where Jackson and Ethan were along with Danny—then across the Atlantic to meet Lydia in Boston and Stiles in DC.
Most of his travel took him back to California though. Even trips to South America to meet up with Cora tended to end with a flight to San Francisco.
Nine out of ten of his visits to the loft are fun and good. When the pack gathers, it's usually there—the loft has proven in the past to be a great spot for a party—and he doesn't get to think too hard about the past. He does, however, get to watch as the old furniture gets rearranged to better suit whatever purpose that it needs to serve.
Like when Stiles decides it's time for a movie night and he somehow manages to procure bean bags and cushions that end up laid out on the floor, the one undamaged wall serving as the screen once he sets up the projector. Or when Scott and Satomi use the loft for negotiating of territory borders and other pack dealings.
But then there are nights when, with everyone else gone home—wherever that is—Derek ends up in the loft alone.
Alone means that he thinks and he remembers. Alone means that he gets to relive the bad parts of the loft's past. He gets to think about the people he lost here, the ones he almost lost right there in front of the big windows that are no longer covered in grime. He gets to look at the cleaned floor and still see where the blood stains are, at the walls where pieces are missing and where there are holes from fists.
He's never along for too long though.
"You're not back to brooding again, are you, sourwolf?" Stiles asks every time, no matter how many times he's asked the same question before. "Because moping isn't allowed inside these walls."
"Maybe a little," Derek admits, then he taps the spot on the couch next to him.
He admits it now, but it's taken a long time for him to get to a place where he doesn't try to pretend that everything is fine even when it very clearly isn't. He still doesn't say it easily and not to just anyone. But Stiles has always been able to see right through Derek's smoke screen, always knew to cut through it and call things for what they were. It's a little ironic that the person who talks circles around his own problems and issues is the one who can get to the bottom of Derek's. It works both ways though, for them—Derek knows when Stiles's talking is there to hide what Stiles is really concerned about.
"We should do something about this place," Stiles says once he's sitting down and leaning right into Derek's space. "Take out of the flooring and change it, rebuild the walls that you've punched holes into."
"It wasn't just me," Derek says defensively.
"Well, no, I know that. I was here for Scott's and Liam's shenanigans. But I'm pretty sure several of those, " he points at the holes in the walls, "are your doing. I vividly remember that one," he says, looking at the big one, the wall that's still almost completely gone.
"Maybe we should do something about it,” Derek says. "Maybe the whole building needs to come down."
"Wow, overkill much?" Stiles tells him with a quiet chuckle. "I'm sure we can find a solution that's not all that drastic."
"Think the pack would be up for it?"
"Promise them a big screen and feed them,” Stiles says. "They're all easily bribed."
"Those sound like bribes more suited to you than any of the others," Derek says, chuckling.
Stiles twists his neck and looks at Derek, his expression probably meant to convey innocence but doing no such thing. Derek chuckles again and shakes his head when Stiles looks offended at Derek not believing him. Instead of falling into the trap of having the same argument that they've had a million times before, Derek leans in and presses his lips against Stiles's, then smiles into the kiss and turns around properly.
"Would you want to live here again?" Stiles asks when they pull away from each other.
Derek shakes his head.
"But you don't want to give this place up, fist-shaped holes in the walls and all."
"It feels right," Derek says, then adds, when Stiles looks confused, "to keep it."
He's rewarded with an acknowledging hum and a nod.
"But fixing the place up is long overdue," he continues, glancing at the battle-worn space. "We should look into the spaces on this whole floor. Maybe make one of them into an official training room and restrict the fisticuffs to that one?"
Stiles nods again and smiles, looking like he's already started making plans for the refit. Derek can't argue, he's already thinking about ways to rearrange the loft into a space more suitable for hanging out than it is at the moment. There are more spaces on the same floor and even more in the rest of the building that could be used for the pack's various activities.
When he first bought it, it was convenient. The warehouse district was abandoned for the most part, the loft itself in just enough of a shape that he could use it to live in, the electricity running as well as the water. He's still paying the—mostly nonexistent—bills, since he never got around to getting anything disconnected. He was glad, when he came back to Beacon Hills, because it meant less hassle with getting the loft functional again.
He glances at Stiles, who's got his phone out, scrolling through apps suitable for floor plans and design.
"New project?" Derek asks him, leaning against his side.
"Yeah. Sounds like fun," Stiles replies.
Derek smiles and reaches for Stiles's hand. It does sound like a good plan.