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Stiles gulped, trying to control his heartbeat. He had lugged all of his books and the Argent’s borrowed bestiary to Derek’s loft three hours earlier and was still sitting at Derek’s kitchen table, books spread out around him. Lydia had been there helping him up until 10 minutes earlier, when she had to leave to do – Stiles can’t even remember, he was so intently aware of the fact that he and Derek would be alone together.
It had been weeks since they last were left alone together. Stiles had misread Derek’s tolerance of him for something more and in a moment of exhaustion - 8 hours of research and lack of caffeine did that to him, along with his Adderall withdrawal - had kissed him. It had only been a short, innocent peck, but Derek's facial expression afterwards had been anything but friendly. Derek had only turned on his heel and marched up the stairs to the room that he had finally claimed as his bedroom and Stiles had let himself out only minutes later. He wasn’t sure what had happened either; he didn’t recall falling in love with Derek?
Since then Stiles had made sure to not be alone with Derek, aside from incredibly short amounts of time. Derek hadn’t said anything about it, but he had started being softer, more aware of Stiles feelings and his human-ness – he almost seemed caring. But Stiles knew it was only because he was trying not to hurt his feelings; he knew that Derek had something going on with Jennifer Blake, his English teacher. Derek’s words all meant nothing now, and it only served to make Stiles feel even more pathetic because he knew that Derek was only doing it because he knew now what Stiles actually felt for him. Or rather, that he felt something at all.
“Stiles…” Derek said, and you could almost call Derek’s voice soft. But Stiles just held up a hand and shook his head.
“I know, okay? I know.” He took a breath, stealing himself, before looking up to meet Derek’s gaze. His eyes were carefully void of emotion. “I just- I need you to not look at me like I’m wounded. And just… forget it happened. Please.” He wasn’t really pleading, but the tone of his voice was oddly thick. After a moment or two, Derek nodded and his posture relaxed.
“Okay.” He nodded, seemingly to himself.
“Okay.”
---
Four months later and Stiles had stopped feeling ready to fall apart whenever he saw Derek. The butterflies that erupted in his stomach when he watched the corner of Derek’s lips curl up into what could only be deemed a smile, had disappeared. After finally acknowledging that it was a long shot, halfway impossible, for him and Derek to become anything more than tentative friends, it had been easier to ignore and eventually the feelings had sort of… gone away.
He had been on a bunch of dates with a guy named Kian and it felt good; they had recently started referring to each other as boyfriends. The guy was funny, nice, thoughtful and had very charming, incredibly blue eyes that sparkled every time he laughed or smiled. It was a nice change of pace from the surly, broody, frowning, stubbled complexion that Derek was rocking. Stiles liked it. He might even like it a little bit better; Kian wasn’t as big as Derek was, but still covered in muscles with which he had no trouble fucking Stiles up against the wall.
They had defeated the Darach, and although Stiles felt bad for Derek for finding out another one his girlfriends was killing people, he didn’t wish for anything more, even if the opportunity would have presented itself. He was happy with Kian. He hoped that Derek would find the same thing someday.
---
Stiles looked up from his book when the doorbell rang and the door to the café opened. Derek stepped through and locked eyes with Stiles. Stiles smiled and waved, while Derek did his customary nod and approached the counter. Stiles looked back to his book, and only a minute or two later, the doorbell chimed again and he looked up to see Kian this time, striding towards him from the closing door. Kian bent down to press a gentle kiss to Stiles lips, coaxing a soft, infatuated smile from him, before sitting down on the opposite side of the table.
And if Derek might’ve clenched his hands a little harder, sending a discreet glare in Kian’s direction as he waited for his coffee, well; Stiles was too happy to notice.
It was too late anyway.