Archive of Our Own

Derek Hale did not speak a word for the first four years of his life. He'd babbled as an infant a little, though much less than his sisters. But the Hales learned that their little boy could, in fact, speak, about six months into speech therapy, when his mom was strapping him into his car seat.

"We will go to your speech meeting, then get dinner and be home by the time Daddy and Laura get here," she said as she buckled him in. One of the things the speech pathologist had recommended was dropping all baby talk and speaking to him calmly and clearly, explaining things as they went.

He grabbed her thumb, wrapping his fingers gently around it and looked up at her with those wide green eyes and said "I don’t wanna go, mama. Please."

But they went. And as usual, Derek sat quietly. He pointed to things. He nodded. He did not speak.  And, just like always, he looked miserable.

After, when Talia got him in the car, she sat in her seat a few minutes, then turned around to look at her four-year-old child. "Derek, if you talk to us at home, you never have to come here again," she said, feeling a little foolish. Partially like the slip of conversation was a fluke and she was asking something of him that he couldn't understand and partially because she was bargaining with a four-year-old.

But Derek seemed to nod at her then immediately stuck his first two fingers in his mouth and looked out the window.

She got pizza for dinner. Derek didn't say anything until Alexander Hale set a sippy cup full of milk in front of him and he said, very clearly, "thank you, Daddy."

He never spoke much. But he started to answer questions. Some questions. Yes or no questions got nonverbal responses. Talia learned how to phrase questions in certain ways to get verbal answers fairly quickly, but she never pushed him. He was just quiet. And she let him be.

Derek met Stiles on the first day of kindergarten. Because his mother had told the teacher his name when she dropped him off, he hadn’t seen the need to say anything else. They had lunch and he sat quietly to eat. At snack time, the teacher sent them outside to eat their snacks on the benches. Derek had an apple with peanut butter, his favorite thing in the whole world, and it was inside his brand-new Beauty and the Beast lunch box that his daddy had gotten for him (because Beauty and the Beast was his favorite movie). He hadn't even gotten to the benches when another kid from his class, Jackson, took his lunch box from him.

"This is a girl lunch box," Jackson said. "Are you a girl?"

But Derek didn't answer. He couldn't, tears just welled up in his eyes.

"Are you gonna cry about it? Wow, you must be a girl. A little baby girl with a girl lunch box who is crying," Jackson said, "I'm gonna throw this right in the mud and stomp on it."

And Derek was definitely crying but he didn't know what to do, no one had ever been so mean to him before. And his brand-new lunch box was going to get broken and--

"Leave him alone, butthead," said a voice and suddenly Jackson fell back into the mud. Derek's lunch box was pressed back into his hands and this boy with close shaved hair and eyes the color of the honey that Daddy put on Derek's peanut butter sandwiches was right in his space. 

"It got a little muddy, but I think it's okay," the boy said, "I'm Stiles. You're Derek, right? You don't talk much, huh?"

Derek wasn't sure how to respond so he just shook his head. And then the teacher showed up. But she seemed to have missed everything that wasn't Stiles pushing Jackson down into the mud and she took him away by the wrist. Derek wanted to stop her, but he just held his lunch box against his chest, forgotten by Jackson and unnoticed by everyone else until it was time to go back in.

But Stiles didn't come back to class. And Derek was so worried. He shouldn't get in trouble! He saved Derek's life!

When it was time to go, they all lined up with their stuff and started walking out toward the busses and pick up line. As they passed by the office, Derek saw Stiles. He was standing next to a man in a police uniform who had his hand on the boy’s shoulder while he talked to the principal. Stiles had his hands clasped together and was staring at the ground. That had to be Stiles’ dad because pushing Jackson in the mud wasn’t bad enough to go to jail. He knew because Laura pushed him in the mud once and only got no dessert.

Derek made a split-second decision and slipped out of the line. He hurried up behind the group and reached up so he could tug gently on the officer’s shirt. When the man actually looked at him, he got really scared, but he had to be brave, for Stiles!

"Mr. Stiles' Daddy, sir," he said very quietly.

The man's forehead wrinkled, but he turned and crouched down in front of Derek.

"Is everything okay, kiddo?" He asked and Derek immediately shook his head.

"Mr. Stiles' Daddy sir, please don't be mad at Stiles," he said, tears filling his eyes, "Jackson took my lunch box n'said it was for girls and babies n'then he was gonna throw it in the mud and step on it and break it! Stiles saved me." All the words came out in a rush. More words than Derek had ever said to a stranger ever, but he gripped tightly to the man's sleeve because he needed him to know that Stiles saved him.

The officer was quiet a second, then looked up at the principal. "Did you ask Stiles why he pushed the other kid?"

"We have a no-tolerance policy for bullying here, Deputy Stilinski and Stiles was seen pushing Mr. Whittemore down," the principal replied, going a little red in the face.

Deputy, Derek said in his head. Not officer.

The man then looked at Stiles. "Kid, why did you push Jackson?"

Stiles looked up at his dad, his eyes a little red. "He was being mean to Derek. And Derek didn't say anything all day and didn't do nothing to Jackson, but Jackson took his lunch box and made him cry, daddy!" He insisted.

"You should have told your teacher and not pushed, Stiles," the principal said, and Stiles scowled.

"Derek's lunch box woulda been broken! I pushed him cos he was just about to throw it down in the mud! He would have broken it 'fore Miss G coulda even got there," he said, indignant.

He probably would have said more but the Deputy wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into a hug. Stiles relaxed immediately, hugging him back.

"We shouldn't push, kiddo," he said after a minute, "but I get why you did it. And I'm proud of you for sticking up for your friend. Can you talk to him for a minute while I talk to Mr. Ball?"

Stiles nodded and pulled away. He looked at Derek then hugged him. Derek was startled, but he hugged him back.

"Thanks," Stiles said, "I know you don't talk a lot. Wanna be best friends?"

Derek nodded and held out his hand. His mama and daddy were best friends and they held hands, so that's what he was pretty sure he was supposed to do. He smiled with Stiles took it.

The deputy finished talking and took Stiles' hand, leading both boys out.

"Derek!" His mom's voice rang out and he found himself scooped up quickly and held tight.

He made a gasping sound and she loosened her grip but didn't put him down. "I was so worried when you didn't come out with your class. Where were you?" She pulled back so she could look at him and he pointed to the deputy and Stiles.

It took a second, then his mom said, "Noah, hi, it's been a long time."

The deputy smiled. "It has. I guess our boys are in the same class. There was a bit of a scuffle on the playground today and Derek came to make sure I knew the whole story."

Talia glanced at Derek, maybe shocked that he'd spoken to a stranger. Derek looked back at her, then leaned in so he could whisper in her ear, "juice, please.”

Talia gently smoothed his hair down. "Let me put him in the car and we can talk."

The deputy nodded. Derek was buckled into his booster seat and handed a grape juice box. There was always juice in the car.

His juice was almost gone when Talia climbed into the car. She didn't immediately make to leave but instead turned to look at Derek.

"Baby, are you okay?" She asked. He nodded.

"Are you sure? Because I know that little boy was unkind to you."

"Stiles saved me, Mama. He's my best friend now. I'm gonna marry him when I grow up," he said.

Talia watched him for a few seconds. "Marry him, honey?"

"Cos he's my best friend and he held my hand. Like you and Daddy."

Talia smiled then, nodded. "I'm glad you made a friend. Stiles seems like he's going to be a very good friend for you."

Derek nodded. As soon as he'd finished his juice, his first two fingers found their way to his mouth and he looked out the window for the whole ride home.

Stiles already had a best friend, but, turns out, Scott was pretty cool. He was in the other kindergarten class. He didn't talk as much as Stiles, but still more than Derek. It worked out. They did almost everything together.

Derek knew he was in love with Stiles when Stiles first told him that he was in love with Lydia Martin. They were fourteen. Stiles' dad was working a lot then. And drinking. Stiles was at Derek's house almost every day after school. Not that Derek minded. And he had wanted to be there for Stiles after his mom died.

On this particular day, Stiles was laying on Derek's bed, homework discarded to the side as he waxed poetic about Lydia's hair, her eyes, her beautiful smile. Derek, who'd been leaning against his bed with his math homework on his knees, tilted his head back and watched him. He could say all the same things about Stiles, well except the hair, really, because Stiles was still sporting the buzz cut at that point. Though Derek liked that too.

It kinda sucked being in love with Stiles. Because he knew he was supposed to be in love with girls, not guys. That's what guys did. And he was a guy, no matter what Jackson said. Calling Derek a girl, or any other iteration of that, was Jackson's favorite pastime. Derek figured he was an easy target, never fought back. He hadn't ever managed to convince Stiles not to fight back for him. How many times had he been sent to the principal's office for defending Derek?

"She isn't nice to you," Derek pointed out, turning back to his homework.

"She just doesn't know how good I could be for her," Stiles said.

Derek snorted and then he felt Stiles' hands slide down his sides and start to tickle him.

"Oh, ye of little faith."

Derek squirmed, trying to keep his mouth shut, but Stiles knew exactly where to dig his fingers to get Derek to let out a yelping laugh and then he was lost and Stiles didn't stop until Derek was panting and flat on his back, homework forgotten.

"You're the worst," he gasped.

"You love me," Stiles said, moving to lie on his stomach and get back to his history homework.

I do, thought Derek, so much more than you know. But he'd never say it out loud.

Derek came out when he was sixteen. He told his mom first, then his dad. But he felt like he was keeping it from Stiles. And he kind of was because Stiles was his best friend. He was scared to lose him. He avoided him for two whole weeks before Stiles barged into his room.

"What the fuck?" he said. Derek sat at his desk. He looked over, suddenly feeling sick.

"Did I do something?" Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head.

"Did you do something you think I'll be mad about? Because I'm never mad at you, Der, not really."

Derek shook his head again.

"Then what? Why are you avoiding me?"

Derek didn't say anything. He looked down at his homework, eyes full of tears.

"Derek! You can't ignore me! I hate this. Please... fuck, just look at me."

And he did, looking up with tears on his cheeks.

"Der?" Stiles looked so concerned and he was coming across the room and what if he hugged Derek then found out he was gay, and it was weird. Because Derek did love him, and it was probably going to be so uncomfortable and not want to be his friend anymore. And it would kill him to lose Stiles.

"I'm gay," Derek whispered and Stiles stopped. He looked at Derek and chewed at his lower lip and wrung his hands, then he said,

"Is it gonna totally upset you if I say I already knew?"

Derek blinked at him. His face got hot and he rubbed away his tears. He wasn't sure what to say, hadn't expected this and had spent months literal months worrying about it.

"How?" He finally managed.

"Well, when we were twelve and we camped on your backyard and Scott asked about celebrity crushes, you said Brad Pitt. And I know you said you misheard and thought we were saying who would like to hang with, but like..." Stiles chewed on his thumbnail, "you tugged on your hair like you do when you're lying."

Derek just dropped his head in his hands.

"Also, like... Derek, you aren't exactly... subtle when you look at guys."

Derek groaned. "So, you knew."

"Yeah," Stiles said and then suddenly wrapped his arms around Derek from behind. Derek let out a shuddering breath.

"You kidding me, though? With this avoidance shit? Der, it's me. Why would you be scared to tell me?"

Derek squeezed his eyes shut against the tears because I love you, he thought, "I just... was so scared I'd lose you."

"You're never gonna lose me, dummy."

Derek let out a watery laugh. "Was pretty dumb."

"Yep, but I'll forgive you if you take me to the movies and let me get the biggest popcorn and the biggest icee."

"You are very easily bought, Stilinski," Derek laughed and that was that.

Derek went away for the whole summer between sophomore and junior year. A family reunion, a month with his grandma and then a writing camp he'd gotten into. Stiles met Heather before Derek left. They'd gone to a bonfire and Derek had spent the while night jealous of the attention Stiles was giving her. This was his last night with Stiles for the whole summer!

And then every time he called, Stiles only talked about Heather. Derek had to call Scott to get legitimate updates. Very frustrating.

Stiles and Heather dated all of junior year. Derek hated it. Hated that this girl had come in and taken Stiles from him.

Danny, a senior, asked him to prom that year and he said yes. They almost didn't get to go. Two guys. It hadn't ever happened at their school before. And Stiles had probably been the most pissed about it. He rallied, actually rallied and other students backed them up.

He and Stiles got ready together. Derek wasn't sure he would be able to take his eyes off Stiles the whole night, he looked so good. Black jeans, a lavender button-down, black tie and a casual cardigan. He matched Heather's lavender dress.

Danny ended up winning as prom king that night and Derek got to dance with the king. It was nice. And Danny was so sweet, but after, when he was dropping Derek off at home, he kissed him on the porch. And all Derek could think about was that he wasn't kissing Stiles. Danny must have known, though, that he wasn't into it.

"Danny," Derek said softly, but the other boy held up his hands.

"I get it. You should tell him, though," he said.

Derek frowned. "Tell him?"

"Stiles. You couldn't keep your eyes off him tonight."

"Shit, Danny, I'm so-"

"Derek, I had a good night. But you should really tell Stiles, okay?" Danny hugged him and left. Derek sat on the front porch for a long time until his dad came out to sit by him.

"I'm a walking cliche, dad," he sighed.

"Like a gay lifetime movie," Alex said and then laughed when Derek scowled at him. "Sorry, kid. You should talk to Stiles."

Derek sighed, sinking down in his seat. His dad was probably right. And Danny.

He didn't do it, though. Wouldn't while Stiles was in a happy relationship. He just kept it in.

Heather broke up with Stiles in the middle of senior year. She'd gotten into Brown and Princeton. Stiles hadn't even considered applying to an Ivy League. He got into Stanford, though, and UC Davis, like Derek and Scott had. The breakup shattered him. His first heartbreak. And Derek was there through it all.

"Why does this hurt so much?" Stiles asked quietly. They laid face to face in Stiles' bed.

"It'll pass," Derek promised, "I called and asked Laura about heartbreaks. She said cookie dough ice cream and shitty movies. I got both."

Stiles had just nodded, turning his face into his pillow as he cried. Derek wanted to fix it. He hated that Stiles hurt. Hated that it wasn't like when they were kids and a batman Band-Aid plus some apple juice fixed everything.

Scott wasn't around much then. He was still in the newness of his relationship with Allison. It made Stiles sad. And then made him feel bad for not being happy for his best friend. And Scott felt terrible about everything. It was a mess and Derek had intervened, promised to take care of Stiles, promised to keep Scott in the loop.

"You wanna go to prom with me?" Stiles asked a few months after his breakup, "two best buds."

Derek had never experienced such emotional whiplash. Of his own doing, of course. Because he soared when Stiles asked about prom and dropped with the addition of best buds.

He hadn't told him how he felt. It had felt wrong, like he was taking advantage of his sadness.

But he couldn't sustain it. Not when so badly he wanted to go to prom with Stiles not as friends. He declined a ride home from school saying he had plans with Laura, who was back in town for Memorial Day. He made sure to keep his hands in his pockets when he lied. And he walked home. But it started pouring out of nowhere and he was soaked. He was halfway home when Laura's car pulled up next to him. He hadn't lied about her coming home.

"Doesn't Stiles drive you home?" She asked when she rolled down her window.

"Yeah, but--"

"You're an idiot, get in the car." And he did. And she berated him the whole ride home. He took it. Just sat there, quiet. And then when they got to the house, she hugged him tight.

"Idiot," she said, fond, then got out of the car.

He texted Stiles.

-supposed to be a meteor shower tonight-

-pick u up at 9-

-k-

They sat in the jeep for a long time before either of them spoke and, as usual, it was Stiles who went first.

"Why'd you lie to me today?"

Derek stared at him. He'd tried so hard not to make it obvious! He let out a breath, sinking into his seat.

"It hurts," he said quietly, looking out the window.

"What hurts?" Stiles asked.

"Bein’ just your friend," Derek whispered and he couldn't stop the tears before they fell, but he quickly wiped them away. He felt pathetic. Gay boy in love with straight best friend. Was there anything so tired in the whole world?

Stiles took his hand and squeezed it, but Derek couldn't look at him. He wished he was anywhere else in the whole world. And then he felt the soft pressure of Stiles' lips against his cheek. He turned to look at Stiles.

"I always thought you liked me," Stiles said quietly, "you have this idea of falling in love and marrying your best friend. Like your parents. And I... I'm your best friend. But you never..."

Derek watched him, watched him bring his thumbnail up to his mouth to bite at it, watched him fiddle with the dials on the radio and the air.

"I figured I was wrong. Stopped waiting," Stiles said finally.

"I... am not good with words," Derek said and Stiles laughed. He shook his head.

"I know. But I figured you'd tell me eventually if you did. You've never been able to keep secrets from me. And you're such a terrible liar."

"Only to you," Derek sighed. "Mom still thinks we were at Scott's when we went to that dive bar to see the battle of the bands."

Silence fell between them. Each looked away, out the window or at their hands, just not at each other.

"Derek," Stiles said finally.

"Yeah?"

"You gotta actually say it."

Derek closed his eyes and took a big deep breath then let it out.

"Stiles," he said.

"Yeah?"

"I really, really don't wanna go to prom with you as just best pals." Derek turned to find Stiles watching him. "I'm way too in love with you for that."

And Stiles surged forward and kissed him. And Derek hadn't ever been kissed like this before just the once with Danny on the porch. He could have cried when Stiles curled a hand around the back of his neck. He fisted the front of Stiles' shirt. Neither pulled back until they were breathless.

"You're not getting lucky on prom night," Derek panted. "Already too much of a living breathing romcom."

"Fuck," Stiles said, running a hand over his face. "I... fuck. Derek. There's no rush. We have our whole lives."

And Derek smiled. Their whole lives.

Stiles fucked Derek for the first time on the fourth of July. He'd thought it romantic to fuck under fireworks. And it was amazing. Derek came twice, once while Stiles was taking his damn time opening him up and then once while fucking. It was way better than he'd ever imagined. And he was happy it happened with Stiles first.

When Derek was thirteen, he discovered Harry Potter fanfiction. Just accidentally stumbled across Harry and Draco having sex. It was the first time he realized it was possible. Hadn't really spent much time thinking about sex, but he'd read that story a dozen times, memorizing the way men had sex and wanting it. Then he found more stories.  At fourteen, he started writing them. He had his own computer, but he still hid his writing. Still afraid for anyone to know that he thought of boys the way he was supposed to think of girls. He hid it in folders within folders on flash drives that he kept on him at all times.

He explored a lot by himself. Learned about queerness. Learned about sex, eventually about kink. And that was a whole different rabbit hole. It all started with Snape giving Harry detention and then spanking him. And it made Derek's stomach tighten in a way that wasn't bad. It was thrilling. He read everything he could. Some were more intense, heavier BDSM scenes and he liked them well enough, but the intimacy of spankings is really what interested him. And then he went too far. Learned about daddy kink, read too many things with Harry calling Snape daddy. And it did things to him. Shameful, horrible things and he always felt so bad after he'd done it.

There were things he shared with Stiles about fanfiction. Sometimes even let him read the soft ones where there was just a bit of kissing, but he kept the kink to himself. Didn't know how Stiles could understand when he didn't even understand it himself.

In the summer before senior year, when Stiles was still dating Heather, Derek started writing a fic and posting it. His first time posting anything. It was Harry and Draco and it ticked all his boxes. It was post-Hogwarts. They met again five years later and started an uneasy friendship with slowly evolved into more. The kink came later. First just during sex, but the more Draco realized Harry liked to be spanked during sex, the more he wanted to explore. It started to expand to their relationship outside of the bedroom too.

And then one day, they were walking down a street window shopping when Harry stopped. He saw a dragon in the window of a muggle toy shop. A soft, children's toy and he had never wanted anything so badly in his whole life. But he was ashamed of it. Because it was for children and he was an adult. But Draco bought it for him anyway.

The dive into age play for Harry was therapeutic in nature. Gave him the childhood he never had, with Draco, who loved him so dearly, as his Daddy. Sure, the name came up in sex at times, especially when Harry was teasing, but most of what they had was innocent, nonsexual. About Harry letting go, trusting that Draco would take care of him. And that's what Derek loved best. But he wasn't ever gonna get it. He wasn't ever gonna tell a soul what he desired.

Derek was still writing by the time he went to college. He had a single room in the same dorm as Stiles and Scott. His parents had insisted he not share a room with Stiles, which Derek thought was dumb, but they were paying so he got a single. He was not going to live with a stranger.

It was good because sometimes after he'd written a really steamy scene, he would jack off and it was honestly very nice to not have a roommate, especially when he came whimpering "daddy." It embarrassed him enough. He couldn't imagine if a roommate walked in at the most inopportune time. He was already so sure he was a freak. Didn't need anyone else thinking it. If he'd roomed with Stiles, well, it would have been so much worse. Especially considering they got each other off as often as possible. Once, he came while humping Stiles' thigh, the other's fingers buried in his hair and in his ass and he'd bitten his lip so hard he'd bled to keep from saying anything he shouldn't. The orgasms he had by himself, where he could fantasize about the things he wouldn't ask for, helped keep him from letting Stiles know what a fucking freak he was. But Stiles seemed to have a way of eventually figuring out all of Derek's secrets.

Just after they returned to school for spring semester freshman year, things went a little sideways. On Fridays, they watched a movie and ordered pizza, but Stiles got done with class before Derek did, so they'd meet outside the classroom for his last class so Derek could give Stiles his room keys. They usually kissed for too long and Derek was usually almost late for class, but he didn't mind. Being kissed by Stiles was his favorite thing.

When he got back, Stiles was on Derek's laptop watching YouTube. But he was weird. He barely looked at Derek, like something was bothering him.

"You okay?" Derek asked.

Stiles nodded. "How about we go out to pizza and a movie tonight, bear?"

Derek nodded, smiling a little at the term. Stiles used to call him Der-Bear to tease him, but now he just called him Bear. And it always made him feel good. Though something was wrong. Derek just couldn't figure out what. They went out and by the end of the night everything seemed okay again.

A week later, Derek posted the last ever chapter of his fic. He'd been writing the chapter for two weeks and it was bittersweet to end this thing he'd been working on for a year and a half, but it was done. There had been an upset, Harry's anxiety had gotten worse and he'd lashed out, wanting Draco to push him away. Because he felt broken and unlovable, like this couldn't last forever. Eventually he'd have to grow up, but he didn't know if he could. Draco would eventually tired of the games, but Harry didn't know if he could ever let go of his Daddy. Draco hadn't run, no, in fact, he took Harry to cottage by a lake and when inside took him right into a room that made Harry gasp. A playroom. With colorful carpets, a beautiful forest painted on the walls, lots of toys. But, sitting on the daybed was his dragon. His dragon was there in this room which meant... He looked at Draco but found him on his knees a ring in his hand.

"I promise to love every part of you forever. Little or big. I'm always going to be yours, Harry, and you're always going to be mine."

Derek cried writing it. He'd written a big long author's note at the end thanking all his readers and then closed his laptop. It was over. And it was late. He crawled into bed and fell right asleep.

In the morning, he had a dozen emails about comments and as he checked them all but froze when he read one in particular.

-Bear, I'll be the Draco to your Harry. But, you gotta actually say it- 

You gotta actually say it. What Stiles had said the night of the meteor shower. But how had Stiles known? Then Derek remembered the Friday before. When Stiles had been on his laptop. Derek had been working on the last chapter the night before and Stiles must have seen it! That's why he'd been so weird. But... had he gone and read the whole thing? All fifty chapters?

Derek shook. He was wearing batman pajama bottoms and Stiles' lacrosse hoodie from high school, didn't even bother to put shoes on. He grabbed his keys and ran down the hall, trembling as he knocked on the door Scott and Stiles shared. Stiles opened the door, he looked unsure, nervous, but he stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

"Bear," he said softly.

"I don't know how to say it," Derek said, voice quiet and shaking, "thought... I was a freak."

Stiles cupped his face. "You're perfect. My perfect little bear," he said, "and I didn't understand at first, but then I read it, the whole thing and... a lot of Harry's thoughts... they are yours, right?"

Derek swallowed and nodded. "I didn't understand either. Felt bad. Wrong. But I started writing and... it felt better."

Stiles nodded and hugged him tightly. "Let's go back to your room and talk, okay? Some of this is completely new to me, but there are some things I've thought about before."

They spent the whole day talking. Turned out that Stiles thought Derek had the most spankable ass he'd ever seen but had been too scared to actually do it. When Stiles actually spanked him during sex the next day, Derek came immediately. He got hot and embarrassed, but Stiles told him that he kinda fucking loved it and he felt better.

Derek learned quickly that he’d had nothing to worry about with Stiles.

Domestic discipline entered their lives junior year. Stiles was the one to bring it up this time. They'd gotten an apartment with Scott off-campus. Derek was struggling. He was feeling overwhelmed by classes and he was getting bad about actually remembering to eat and drink water. When he passed out and had to go to the campus clinic and sit for a whole bag of IV fluids, Stiles was done. Derek had a sticker book in their bedroom for when he was small because they learned little space Derek didn't respond well to punishment but would do anything for stickers, but the book that Stiles pulled out didn't look as fun.

"You're going to eat two meals a day," Stiles said, "at least. And I've bought three water bottles that I expect you to drink every day, plus some other things. If you don't do something, you get an x. On Sundays, when Scott goes to see Allison, you get a hand spanking and then a swat with the hairbrush for every x."

Derek looked at the list. Clothes in the hamper, unload dishwasher. Wash counters. Tell either Scott or Stiles about his day. He felt ashamed. Had he gotten that bad that Stiles was having to remind him to put his clothes in the hamper and to unload the dishwasher, which had been his designated chore since they'd moved in. Stiles loaded and washed. He unloaded and wiped down the counters. Scott took out the trash. Everything else they split as needed.

"We can come up with other rules, if you want. I know a lot of DD couples have them. But I didn't want to just make all these choices for you. Just these ones, the ones that affect your health and us in the apartment," Stiles said.

Derek was tired and sad, and rules sounded like structure, which sounded good, but he also didn't want to have to think too much.

"Later," he said quietly, "want Daddy."

Stiles, who up until that point had looked unhappy and disappointed, softened and pushed back from the table, opening his arms. Derek snuggled as best he could in his lap.

"I know you can't help some of this, bear. I know sometimes the sad seeps in without you even knowing, but I was so scared today. I don't want it to ever happen again," Stiles whispered into Derek's hair.

"I was scared too," Derek replied, holding tighter to Stiles. They stayed like that until they went to take a shower and Stiles washed Derek from top to bottom, dried him, got him into soft pajamas, coaxed some food into him, and they watched cartoons in bed until they both fell asleep.

That Christmas, they agreed no presents because all their money went to rent, utilities and groceries, but both of them did it anyway. Derek saved for months to get Stiles the new seat covers he wanted for his jeep and little Derek had painted a picture frame and put a picture of them in it. Stiles had been really excited in front of their family for the seat covers, but when Derek gave him the picture frame later, he got a little teary eyed.

Stiles got him a year's subscription to the New Yorker, which he'd been hemming and hawing about for months, unsure if he should. But he also had a present wrapped from Daddy and inside was a violet blanket with blue silky ribbon around the edge. Like a baby blanket, but bigger. Derek-sized. He'd made it and was self-conscious about some of the flaws, but Derek saw exactly none of them. He did cry. And then even more when Stiles gave him a hand drawn coupon for a day out with Daddy to go to build a bear and then get lunch anywhere Derek wanted. On the bottom, it said "even McDonald's" which make Derek laugh. Because little Derek only ever wanted McDonald's. And Daddy said no. A lot. Though usually when he said no, he'd come home sometime during the week with a chicken nugget kid's meal with apple slices and sprite. Derek had a whole shelf of toys from McDonald's.

Stiles asked Derek to marry him the night before graduation. Derek said yes, of course, but he wanted to get his MFA first. So he wasn't in grad school for their first year of marriage. He wanted to be with Stiles completely, and he'd already gotten into an MFA program in creative writing at a private university not too far from Beacon Hills. They moved home. Derek loved it. He'd hated being so far from his family, but he could see that Stiles didn't. He'd gotten a criminal justice degree with a minor in IT and had planned to work at the sheriff's station. He'd wanted to be a deputy since forever. But his heart wasn't in it anymore, so he applied to work in their IT department instead.

Derek turned twenty-five the year he graduated with his MFA and he took a job at the local paper. It had been his dream to work at this paper since childhood. He was going to be editor someday. He was where he wanted to be. And he tried to help Stiles to feel settled, to figure out what he wanted to do, but he was restless in Beacon Hills.

By the time Derek turned twenty-six, Stiles was gone.

"It's not because I don't love you," Stiles said sitting next to Derek on the bed, "I just can't breathe, Derek. I'm going to die if I don't get out. And you're happy. You have wanted to work at the Gazette since you were eight."

Derek let out a hiccupping sob. "I could be happy wherever you go," he said. And he said it over and over. But Stiles still left. He held Derek, kissed his forehead, told him he loved him, and left. He didn't take Derek with him.

Derek wrapped himself up in his blanket and clutched his bear to his chest. He felt like he'd been cut open

"Daddy left."

He cried himself to sleep.

In the morning, he packed up everything little and put it in the back of the closet.

When Stiles left, Derek texted him for months after. They had a rule that Derek told him about his day if they weren't together at the end of it. And while Derek was sure the rules dissolved when Stiles left, it was hard to let go. They had been part of his everyday life for five years.

And the texting probably hurt Stiles. There was a voice in Derek's head that was smug about it. Because he hurt more than he ever had in his whole life. He had no idea how to exist without Stiles. And he was angry for being left. But months of texting without a single reply drained everything out of him. So, he deleted Stiles' number and tried to move on with his life.

For his thirty-fourth birthday, Derek bought himself a house. It wasn't huge. Had two small bedrooms on the first floor, a living room, a kitchen, a laundry room, a bathroom. Upstairs was just the master bed and bath. It had sloped ceilings and a beautiful balcony that looked out across the road to the river. The balcony was his favorite part. He imagined drinking coffee in the mornings. Usually just him, quiet, relaxed, but sometimes he thought about Stiles. Eight years and he still couldn’t help it. Because this was the type of house they'd talked about. They'd talked about a balcony and a nice view. There was a wraparound porch and fenced in backyard. But now it was just Derek's. Which he was fine with. He was.

His sisters insulted his furniture when he moved in. He'd just moved it from his last place. It was the furniture that he and Stiles had moved into their first Beacon Hills apartment with. It hadn't been new then. But it was comfortable. And he ordered covers, so it was all more visually appealing. It wasn’t his fault they’d ended up on backorder.

He did buy a new bed, one that was bigger to fill up a bigger space. It was a sturdy wooden canopy bed. He imagined it'd be nice to be tied to. But that hadn't happened in a while. He had hope. Started talking to a guy online a month before the move. Seemed to be going well. Isaac was his name, at least Derek thought so. Dating was such a hassle, though. He'd never been quite sure how necessary it was.

It took him five years to become editor of the Beacon Hills Gazette and he'd been writing fiction for a while had a few short stories published. He was fairly happy. And that was enough, right?

That's what he told himself.

Sheriff Stilinski was shot twice during an attempted robbery on the 5th of December, weeks before Derek's thirty-fifth birthday. One bullet entered through his chest, a through and through that miraculously hit nothing vital. One went into his shoulder, another through and through, but this one shattered bone and tore muscle. They weren't sure it would ever be the same again. He laughed it off when Derek went to visit him with sunflowers and a batch of chocolate chip cookies. About time he retired anyway. He did not tell Derek that Stiles would be coming home, though Derek should have expected it. Just wished he hadn't run into him on the way out of the hospital.

He stopped, frozen. Unsure what to say or do. Nine years since he had seen Stiles face to face. And time had been good to him. He'd filled out more. He grew a beard with touches of silver in it. Derek had more silver. Or it just showed up better because his hair was so dark.

"Excuse me," Derek said. He ducked around Stiles.

"Derek," he sounded a little different, gruffer, maybe. But Derek didn't turn around. He kept going until he got to his car and drove off hospital property. He could breathe again.

Derek didn't go to see Noah Stilinski again before he got out of the hospital. He would visit after a few weeks, after Stiles went back to wherever he lived. Derek didn't leave his house much the following week. He wasn't sure he could face seeing Stiles again.

One morning while Derek drank coffee on his balcony, someone ran by on the road in front of his house. That never happened. And the temperature had dropped the last couple of days. Derek froze when he recognized Stiles. He didn't move, didn't breathe until Stiles passed out of sight. There was an ache inside of Derek. It only got worse when, half an hour later, Stiles ran past again. Derek went inside after that. But Stiles showed up at the same time the next day. And the day after and the day after. Derek could have adjusted his coffee time, but he refused. He had coffee every day at 7:15 on his balcony and had since the day he moved in.

Part of Derek rejoiced in the fact that he and Stiles once again had a regular routine. The rest of Derek shoved that down.

After two weeks, Stiles was still there, still running every day. Derek just wanted him to go home, to stop running by his house, to let Derek out of his self-imposed house arrest.

"I've heard Stilinski is staying," Isaac said a few days before Christmas. He had Derek over his lap, jeans and briefs pulled down to his knees.

Derek frowned. He didn't want to hear about Stiles. He wanted to get spanked. He had come to get spanked.

"He wants to build a non-profit, I think." Isaac started to absently bring his hand down. Derek whined.

"Please sir," Derek said, "I don't want to hear his name."

Isaac apologized with his hand to Derek's ass, giving him what he needed. They hadn't had the romantic sparks when they met, but worked as friends and once a month, they got together for spanking purposes only.

"You should consider talking to him," Isaac said after.

Derek buried his face in his pillow. It hurt too much. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to cry in front of Stiles. Not now. Isaac didn't push. Just held him for a long time.

On Christmas Eve, Derek drove to the Stilinski house. He sat in his car for a long time then finally got out with his gift for Noah. He always stopped by around Christmas. He'd picked out a sweater for him this year, a soft one that he knew would look good on the older man. Derek thought Noah deserved soft nice things, especially now that he'd been shot and was retiring. It was cardigan style, so he didn't have to try to get it over his head with his bum shoulder. And there was a gift certificate for his favorite steak house nestled in among the sweater.

It took Derek five solid minutes to ring the doorbell. And then Stiles answered it. He looked surprised.

"Derek?"

Derek thrust the gift forward. "This is for your dad," he said.

Stiles took it, looked down at the neatly wrapped gift. "Do you want to come in? Dad has something for you under the tree too."

"I can't stay," Derek said.

"Would you stay if I wasn't here?"

The question caught Derek off guard, and he lied and when he glanced at Stiles, he knew Stiles knew he lied. But he tried to ignore that face and he turned and walk away.

"Merry Christmas," he threw over his shoulder. He got in his car and drove away. He hated himself for being so weak. After nine years, he shouldn't be so weak.

But he never figured out how to stop loving the person he knew was his soulmate.

He wanted to be mad again. He wanted to be pissed at Stiles for leaving. But Derek understood that. He understood that Stiles had been unhappy. Leaving Derek behind had been the hard part. That's what Derek struggled to understand. Because he'd have gone anywhere with Stiles. Yeah, he was happy in Beacon Hills. Maybe Stiles didn't want to take that away from him. But shouldn't Derek have been given the chance to try to be happy somewhere else? Shouldn't he have been given a choice?

He went to bed, wrapped himself up like a burrito in the middle of the bed, but stayed up long enough to watch the clock turn from 11:59 to 12:00. Thirty-five didn't feel any different than thirty-four. His phone buzzed. He knew without looking it was Laura. He fell asleep.

In the morning, he was woken by his whole family clamoring onto his bed, jostling him. He opened one eye to look at them. Cora had the cake. Laura had one arm wrapped around her five-year-old son, Peter, and the other around her daughter Claudia who was eleven and had been given that name because Stiles and Derek weren't going to have children, but having a niece named after a much-missed mother was just as good.

Talia and Alex sat on either side of him grinning. And even though Derek didn't feel much like celebrating, he loved that even though he was now thirty-five, this was still how they started the day. 

They had cake for breakfast and then went over as a group to mom and dad's to open presents and start on making their usual late Christmas lunch.

Derek was standing at the counter peeling potatoes when the doorbell rang. He didn't go to get it, just focused on peeling potatoes and not thinking much about the door.

"Derek," Stiles said behind him and Derek froze for just a second before he hunched his shoulders and started peeling again.

"Derek, can I talk to you?"

Derek didn't reply. For once he had so many words, he was afraid to let them out, afraid to lay himself out bare for the world to see.

"I don't want to see you," he said through gritted teeth.

"I deserve that, I do, but please, Derek. Please."

Derek threw the peeler and potato he had been working on down in the bowl and turned. He pressed himself back against the counter. He looked down at the floor.

"You left," he said, "you left and you left me behind."

"You were happy," Stiles said, "living here, working for the Gazette. It's what you'd wanted for years."

"I could have been happy anywhere with you," Derek said, looking up and immediately regretting it. Because there were Stiles' beautiful honey-colored eyes and his open, honest face.

Stiles rubbed a hand across his face. "You don't know that."

"Neither do you," Derek replied, anger flaring. "You should have given me a chance. You took everything from me. My whole world just yanked out from underneath me. My best friend, my partner, the love of my life, my..." he looked away. He couldn't say that Stiles had taken away his Daddy. Not just because he knew his family was all within hearing range but also because Derek couldn't let himself be that vulnerable.

Stiles looked at him for a long moment and then sighed his name. And that hurt. To hear it so soft, so gently from Stiles' lips. The way he used to.

"You didn't give me the choice," Derek said quietly. "You just made the decision. Did what you thought was best for me. You'd never taken away all my choices before. It made me feel like I was nothing."

He closed his eyes, felt the hand on his arm, but he jerked away. "Please go."

Derek turned back to his potatoes. Didn't look back again until he finished, and Stiles was gone. He left the peeled potatoes on the counter and went upstairs to his old bedroom where he could hide. He buried his face in the pillows on the bed and cried.

He prayed Isaac was wrong. That after the holidays, Stiles would go away again, and Derek could live the rest of his life without him.

When Stiles first left and Derek had hidden away all traces of the younger part of him, he'd needed an outlet. He got pain at a club in the next town. Was stupid and reckless for a few years, seeking punishment for the guilt he would later tackle with a counselor. But he started writing again as he'd done with the fanfiction. Only this time he wrote his own characters, Leo and Greg. Leo, a little, finds his Daddy Greg and they have ups and downs but are happy. He knew when he finished the novel-length story that Daddy's Little Lion was about him and Stiles. But he didn't care. He ended up sending it to a publishing company known for BDSM content and they published it as an ebook.

He wrote two more in the series, ending it at a trilogy, and then stopped. Somewhere along the way, he fell out of love with Leo and Greg. He was sad about it because people seemed to really like the non-sexual age play. He liked it too, always had and it was hard to find. He remembered reading a discussion about a chapter a few months after it was published. In it, Leo had been misbehaving all day and just not listening to his Daddy, so Greg gave him a spanking and it hadn't gone well.

It was a moment he'd pulled from his own life. The first time Stiles spanked him little. The last time. Because after, when it was all over, Derek had withdrawn. He'd flinched away from Stiles and stayed across the room from him for hours. He remembered whimpering every time he'd shifted around, reigniting the sting in his bottom. Daddy hit him. It hurt. Daddy wasn't supposed to make things hurt. He made things better. With kisses and Disney princess Band-Aids. He remembered spiraling. Thinking that maybe Daddy didn't love him anymore. That maybe he'd been too bad. But the more he spiraled the less he could manage to use his words.

He'd been silent while Stiles bathed him, helped him brush his teeth, got him into jammies. Stiles sat on the bed next to him, looking so sad and Derek had wanted so badly to make him feel better, but he also felt so bad himself.

"Daddy, you love me still?" He had asked and the look on Stiles' face was heartbreaking.

"Always little bear. Always."

"Hitted me."

"I know," Stiles said, "I'm sorry. Won't ever hit my little bear again."

Derek held up his pinkie and Stiles took it.

They'd talked about it when Derek was big again, when he had the words to express how it felt. Spankings never again entered little space. And the sticker book appeared a few weeks later. Stickers worked much better.

The discussions praised it, mostly. Talked about how it was a good example of why kink needed to be negotiated through every step. Just because big Leo responded well to spankings didn't mean little Leo would. It was realistic. Showed one of the many bumps that came up in real BDSM relationships.

He'd wanted to join. Say he didn't deserve any praise. Because he was just telling a story of what happened. But he didn't. Didn't spend much time reading responses after that.

It made him miss what he didn't anymore have too much.

Derek took off the week between Christmas and New Year's, mostly to wallow. He also figured he couldn't run into Stiles at his own house. Which actually wasn't true because Stiles still ran by every morning. But he didn't know he was running by Derek's house. It was different. Derek bided his time until Stiles left. Though even a week after New Year's, Stiles was still running by his house every damn morning.

Derek was going to have to move.

Laura visited Derek in mid-January.

"Be careful," she said, and he wanted to disappear. He was being careful. He hadn't spoken to Stiles since Christmas. He hated that she thought him weak.

"He's staying. Bought a building downtown," she said softly, "for something to do with tech."

Derek nodded. He sat on his bed, looking out toward the balcony for a long time after she'd left.

Stiles had been successful when he left. He'd created a type of social media platform, something to help connect people. Facebook bought the whole thing for a lot of money. Stiles had bought and sold a few companies since then. He had money. Technology Now had done a piece on him just before he turned thirty, after he'd been put on a list of successful people. Thirty under thirty. It hadn't even taken Stiles four years to become something wonderful after he left.

Derek had started seeing a therapist when he was twenty-eight. It was nice to have someone to talk to. She'd told him that thinking the way he had was unhealthy, that he shouldn't think that he'd been the one holding Stiles back. Sometimes, when he saw Stiles' name somewhere, he still felt a pang of guilt. But he'd learned how to reason with himself.

Therapy had given him ways to cope with the anxiety that had just gotten worse without Stiles. He hadn't even realized how much Stiles helped with that. How much he'd put on Stiles. He'd struggled with anxiety for a long as he could remember, but Stiles had always made it easier. Never in his life had he needed to handle it all alone.

"I just want you to be okay," Laura had said, "I know you still..."

Derek had known what she meant. He still loved Stiles. Nine years and he was no closer to being over Stiles than right after he'd gone. And it sucked because Stiles was in the public eye and Derek couldn't avoid seeing his dating life. No matter how much he tried. Derek hadn't dated anyone for more than a few months. He wondered when he'd stop comparing everyone to Stiles. If he ever would. He hated it.

Isaac took him out to dinner at the end of January. He was staying the weekend, giving Derek two full days where he had to make no choices. He just had to obey. They'd spent weeks negotiating everything.

 They ate at an Italian place in the heart of downtown. After they'd ordered an appetizer to share and drinks, Isaac leaned over to whisper in his ear. "You're going to be sleeping on your tummy tonight. Got a bedtime spanking coming."

It made Derek squirm, thinking about it. He was excited but already letting himself fall into a role that was nervous about a spanking, that knew bedtime spankings were always delivered on the bare bottom with a wooden flat-backed hairbrush. That if he'd been extra naughty, he'd get a couple licks of the belt. He let himself get worked up and when their mains arrived, Isaac grabbed his wrist underneath the table.

"If you don't sit still and behave, I'm going to take you to the bathroom and spank you right now," he hissed and Derek couldn't help the whine at the idea, the embarrassment of being marched into the bathroom and being spanked in a public restaurant.

But Isaac's threat had him even more nervous and before he knew it, Isaac was leading him to the bathroom.

Derek bit back his apologies until they were in the bathroom and he was shoved forward over the sink. He looked at himself, Isaac standing behind him and whined when Isaac swatted him twice over his jeans. And then twice more. He probably would have gone for even more, but the door opened, and Isaac stepped back. Derek looked down at the sink, pretended he was washing his hands.

"I'll be waiting at the table," Isaac said. Derek nodded, didn't look up. The door opened and closed.

When Derek lifted his head to look at himself in the mirror, he saw Stiles, jaw tight, arms folded across his chest. Derek didn't turn. He used the mirror to look Stiles in the eyes and murmured, "Shouldn't leave Daddy waiting.” The words tasted bad in his mouth. Daddy was the one Derek had put his foot down against. Because he wouldn't ever call anyone that ever again. And Isaac knew that, answered to sir. But Derek, at that moment, wanted Stiles to think he'd moved on. He didn't look up again before he went back out to the table. He was quiet then and Isaac, who must not have seen who walked into the bathroom, wrapped an arm around him. Maybe he assumed the almost getting caught thing had killed the mood for Derek. He paid for dinner and took Derek home. They laid in Derek's bed and watched Jurassic Park instead of all the things they'd planned.

Saturday morning, he woke up sick. A migraine. He threw up everything he put into his stomach and even though all their plans had been ruined, Isaac stayed the whole weekend. Derek wished he could love Isaac. Wished there was something more there because Isaac was good. He was kind and sweet and just this beautiful, lanky man with a smile that made Derek feel good inside. Isaac would make a good partner. And Derek could see himself being happy with Isaac, if only he could feel that way.

Isaac left early Monday morning without ever getting to do any playing, but Derek stood on the porch in bare feet and hugged him hard.

"Thank you," he said. "I'm so sorry our plans got ruined."

"We can try again, Derek. I had a good weekend," Isaac promised. He kissed Derek on the forehead and left.

Derek watched from the porch, arms wrapped around himself, toes like ice. He was standing out there when Stiles ran by. The other man stopped on the side of the street, right in front of Derek's house. Derek could see the way his chest rose and fell quickly, breathing hard and they made eye contact. Derek broke it. He turned and went inside, locking the door behind him. Great. Now he really was going to have to move.

A few days later, there were two small presents sitting on the chair closest to the door on his porch. Derek took them inside. Each had a tag. One said it was from Noah and was wrapped in blue paper with snowflakes. The other said Stiles, the gift wrapped in purple.

Noah had gotten him a mug with the first lines of more than a dozen classic books and a gift card to his favorite tea shop. The one he rarely let himself go to.

He wasn't going to open the other gift, but then he did anyway and inside was a watch. A beautiful black watch with a galaxy splattered across its face. And, when Derek set the time, he was delighted to find that it actually ticked. He loved that sound.

A voice in his head asked if he seriously thought Stiles would get him a quiet watch, but he pushed it away. A lot of things could change in nine years 

After that, gifts just started showing up. About once a week. A customized fountain pen, a DVD copy of one of Derek's favorite childhood films. Caramels covered in creamy milk chocolate. When he caught the flu at the beginning of March, there was a blanket. Soft and large enough that he could wrap his whole body inside it. It was thin enough that he wouldn't overheat.

He was too sick to be mad about it for a week, but as soon as he felt well enough to go out of the house, he went right now to Stiles' office. Sure, he was wearing sweats and a sweater, and he didn't look his best, his nose was still a little blocked and he was coughing, but he was well enough to be out and that meant he was giving Stiles a piece of his mind.

The receptionist looked worried when she made eye contact.

"I need to see Mr. Stilinski," he said.

"Do you have a meeting?" She asked.

"No."

"Then I'm afraid that is not possible,” she said.

“I need to see Mr. Stilinski,” Derek repeated.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to—sir, what are you doing?" Derek started to move stuff on the shelves in the small reception area.

"I'm going to stay here and be a nuisance until I'm allowed to see Stiles," he said, trying not to let on that he felt not great. He moved everything to a different shelf and then started to move the furniture. It was hard, though, and he was trying to shove the couch with his whole body, and it wasn't going where he wanted it to. The receptionist had asked him to stop over a dozen times when finally, exasperated, she said "Mr. Stilinksi will see you now."

He looked up. "Oh, thanks." And he went back. Stiles had a big office in the back with windows and Derek walked right in.

"Close the door, please," Stiles said, but Derek just crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Stiles until the man rolled his eyes and got up to shut the door himself.

"Why are you bothering Lily, Derek? She's a perfectly lovely woman and just doing her job."

Derek shrugged. He had a lot to say, but he was also pretty sure if he opened his mouth, he'd cough which would devolve into a short coughing fit. And that seemed counterproductive.

"Derek." Stiles sat back down at his desk.

"Stop sending me shit," Derek said, voice a little gravelly.

"Are you sure it's me?"

Derek scoffed. Or he tried to. He coughed actually and it took a few minutes for him to get it under control. And then Stiles looked worried.

"Who else would send me the original Land Before Time?" he rasped.

"Have you watched it yet?"

Derek scowled. "You know I can't watch it by myself." He cried. A lot. Every time.

"Thought perhaps it would be nice viewing material for you and your daddy." And the thing was that Stiles said it in a way that he wanted to be nonchalant, but Derek knew by the way his nose got red that Stiles was pissed.

He felt a little victorious about it. And also, very, very bad because Stiles was probably upset with him. Which after nine years, shouldn't have mattered as much as it did.

"Thought you were the leading expert on knowing when Derek Hale lies to your face," he snapped.

Stiles looked confused at first, then surprised, then upset again. "That was low," he said finally.

Derek shrugged. "You started it, looking at me like I owed you an explanation."

"I... it was a surprise to see you doing that with..."

"Did you think I'd never do any of the things I wanted again?" Derek asked. "Because you left. I'm allowed to move on."

Stiles rubbed his hand over his face. "Stop saying that. I know I left."

Derek opened his mouth to reply and had to quickly bury his face in the crook of his elbow as a coughing fit hit him. He felt weak, a little shaky and didn't fight the hands that led him to a small couch. He sank into it, out of breath throat raw.

"Derek, you're sick. You should be home."

"How the fuck did you know I was sick?" he grumbled.

"You just had a coughing fit in my office?"

Derek opened his eyes and glared at Stiles who was crouched in front of him.

"Dad mentioned it. He saw your mom at the store. She was there getting stuff to take to you," he said softly. And Derek wanted to relax into the way Stiles was gently rubbing circles with his thumb on his wrist, but he slowly pulled his hand away.

Stiles moved to sit next to him on the couch.

"I have a line," Derek said after a few quiet minutes. "And that name is on the side I don't cross."

Stiles took in a long breath and let it out.

"Isaac knows. And he's not..." Derek rubbed his hands over his face. "We are friends. And he's a hell of a lot safer than some of the shit I did before therapy."

"You're seeing a therapist?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah. I know you wanted me to for a long time," Derek said. He looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry I didn't sooner. After you..." he paused, "I figured out just how much you did for me in the broken brain department."

Stiles' fingers wrapped around Derek's wrist.

"Your brain isn't broken. Just operates a little differently," he said softly, but firmly. And that tone was going to make Derek cry. He pulled his wrist away and carefully stood.

"I need to go," he said.

Stiles stood too. "Do you need help? I can drive you."

Derek shook his head. He looked at Stiles for a few long seconds, then headed out of his office. In the reception area, the receptionist, Lily, was still at her desk.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he carefully righted the things on the shelves. He glanced at the furniture, but yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

 He drove home. He wrapped himself up in the new blanket. He fell asleep.

The gifts stopped. But they were replaced by Stiles who started to just randomly show up. Sometimes Derek wouldn't be there and there was a note stuck to his door when he got home. missed you. I'll come again later. -S

He grumbled about it. Because that isn't what he meant when he said stop sending him shit. This was loads worse. Because now Derek had to actually see him. And he had manners, so he never just sent him away. He played host. He made tea. But he didn't make polite conversation, that was over the line that he personally had drawn in the sand. Sometimes they just sat. Stiles didn't even seem to mind. He always smiled when he left.

It drove Derek mad.

One morning, when Derek was sitting on his balcony drinking coffee, Stiles ran by. But he stopped and looked up at Derek on the balcony.

"How many times have I run by and not known you were sitting right there?" he shouted.

Derek thunked his head back against his chair with a groan. "Every day since you fucking got back," he called in response after a few seconds.

"Huh." Stiles replied, then continued on his run.

Derek was losing his job. Not because he'd done anything wrong, no, but because the parent company that owned the paper was shutting down the Gazette. It wasn't profitable enough. People were all moving online, they said. It wasn't profitable to have a paper for each of the towns in the area, so there would now be one for the whole fucking county. And he wasn't going to be Editor-in-Chief of that paper. No. Leonard Morris was. Because he'd been working there for twenty years. And he had seniority.

They hadn't fired Derek. Demoted him. And not even to Managing Editor. Leonard Morris hated him and wanted him to be gone. His new job title? Advertising Manager. One day, he was Editor-in-Chief, the next Advertising Manager. They wanted him to quit. And he wanted to quit. But he had a mortgage payment and if he quit, he'd lose his house. Everything he'd worked for.

Okay, so that wasn't true. His parents would not let him lose his house. But he was thirty-five years old! He shouldn't need to be bailed out by his parents.

He was sulking when his doorbell rang.

It rang again when he ignored it and he wished stale potato chips for the rest of forever on the person on the other side as he got up. He pulled it open and there, of course was Stiles

Derek didn't say anything, just turned and walked back to the living room. He sank down into the armchair to continue his sulking.

"You okay?" Stiles asked.

"No."

"What happened?"

Derek sank further into his chair. He wanted it to just consume him. Then he wouldn't have to deal with anything.

Stiles sat down on the couch, wincing as it made a sound as if it was complaining. "You really need new furniture. I think this couch is just going to give up soon."

"Need a job to buy furniture," Derek grumbled, looking out the window.

"What happened?"

"They're shutting down my paper." And he sounded so petulant and he hated it.

"I'll buy it." Stiles said immediately and Derek actually sat up to glare at him.

"You can't just buy it."

"Sure I can." And it didn't sound smug, but it still made Derek angry.

"I don't need you to buy me a job," he snapped. "I am capable of finding a new one myself."

"But you love the Gazette," Stiles said.

"Yeah, but the Gazette is gone and now there is the Beacon County Sun where I'm the advertising manager because they want me to quit. And I'm going to quit because I have given them ten years of my life for what? To be shit on." Derek tried to get out of the chair and he got stuck which just proved to make him even angrier and then, stuck in his chair and feeling like a turtle on his back, he burst into tears that were angry and sad and with a good dose of him feeling sorry for himself.

"Derek, it'll be okay." Stiles said softly, slowly moving closer.

"Stop," Derek said, holding a hand up. "I need you to stop. Trying to fix shit. Just showing up at my house. You're hurting me. It's like you're just holding my wound open, so it'll never heal. I couldn't get over you while you were gone. It's even harder when you're right fucking here."

"So don't," Stiles said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't get over me."

Derek stared at him. "Get out."

"Der-"

"Get the fuck out of my house," he said. And he stared until Stiles was gone. Then he gave into the chair and cried.

Everything hurt. Somewhere deep in his chest ached. He'd lost his dream job. He had to start over somewhere new, probably move. Sell this house that he loved so much. He stayed in bed, stopped drinking coffee on his balcony. And Stiles. Whatever that meant. Because he wanted to not get over him. He wanted, more than anything in the world, to be Stiles' again. But he wasn't sure he'd survive if Stiles left a second time. And he was scared that he would. Derek wasn't enough to keep him the first time. 

He made an appointment with his therapist. He didn't remember the appointment at all by the time he got home and there was this voice in his head that says that was bad.

He couldn't sleep, just laid in bed for a long time. After three, he got up and turned on the light in his walk-in closet. He pulled a plastic box from the back corner and sat on the floor.

He could have cried just from the feeling of the silk ribbon in his fingers. He did cry when he rubbed it against his cheek, just like he used to. Nine years. It felt like coming home. He left the bear but took the blanket with him. He fell asleep with his first two fingers tucked in his mouth.

On the first of April, Derek stood at the edge of the yard when Stiles ran by. The blanket from Stiles when he was sick wrapped around him. Stiles almost tripped trying to stop himself.

"What happens when you just can't breathe anymore?" Derek asked. "And have to leave again."

"I needed time out. But I'm back. I'm here to stay," Stiles said.

"Hm." Derek walked back into the house.

The next morning, Derek stood again by the edge of his yard.

"How do I know for sure?"

"I bought an office building. I'm setting up a company here."

"Hm."

The next morning.

"You've sold four companies in the last six years."

"This one's different."

"Hm."

And the one after.

"You won't be as connected to the tech world here."

"I have a phone. And Beacon Hills is my home. I don't care."

"Hm."

And another after that.

But on that morning, Derek stood on the sidewalk in front of his house. He felt so small and vulnerable there, wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"I'm scared," he said, "that it's going to end the same. And I'm going to give you another twenty years of my life only to end up all on my own again. I don’t think I’ll survive it again."

Stiles looked at him, panting hard, didn't seem to have an answer at first, but he stepped forward.

"I have regretted leaving you since the moment I drove away. I thought I was doing the right thing. That I wasn't taking you away from your dream job, your family. That it was better for you," he said, voice soft and breathy. "I've felt so fucking empty, Derek. Absolutely left ragged. And I knew I'd done the leaving. And if I hurt that bad, I could only imagine how it felt for you. I didn't think you'd ever forgive me. I was scared to come home."

"Home," Derek repeated.

"To you, bear. And I'm not ever leaving again."

Derek scrunched his face up, trying not to cry, but he lost all resolve when he felt Stiles' arms around him, and he buried his face against his neck and sobbed for a long time right there on the sidewalk.

"Do you like my house?" Derek asked between the soft, hiccupping sobs.

Stiles paused, then asked, "what?"

"House. Like it? Has the balcony like we always talked about."

"Oh, yeah, yeah. It's a nice house."

"Good, because I like it too and I’m not moving. You're welcome to move in." Derek rubbed at his eyes, pulling back to look at Stiles.

"You gonna let me make a few mortgage payments while you figure out what's next career-wise?" Stiles asked gently stroking his fingers down Derek's cheek.

"Hafta think about it."

Derek took his hand and pulled him inside. They laid on the bed for a long time, facing toward each other, Derek afraid to close his eyes for too long and that he'd wake to find Stiles gone, but when he woke up from an unplanned nap, Stiles was still there, looking right at him like he was the most precious thing in the whole world. Derek curled their fingers together and pulled their joined hands to his chest, just keeping him there, close.

"I love you," Stiles whispered. "Forever."

"Forever," Derek repeated.

By the time Derek turned thirty-six, he was married to his best friend in the whole world. They lived in their house and drank coffee in the mornings, sitting out on the balcony that faced toward the river. Just like they'd always wanted.