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Over the years, Stiles had come to realize one thing.
There were times when Derek comforted him and there were times when Stiles comforted Derek. They both suffered their demons; and they both found their angels in each other. Stiles anchored Derek and Derek anchored him.
It was one of those times when Stiles woke up to see Derek sitting on the edge of their bed, face buried in his hands. Stiles was awake in a second, pushing off the blankets and moving forward.
“Der?”
Derek startled when Stiles’s hand touched his shoulder and he lifted his head. Red-rimmed around his eyes and Stiles’s heart fluttered nervously— was there something he’d missed? Derek had seemed fine when they’d gone to bed last night. A little quiet, yes, but Stiles had chalked that up as too little sleep the day before. Or maybe something involving the pack.
“Derek,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t realize you were awake,” Derek murmured. Stiles chuckled softly.
“Are you losing your touch, Sourwolf?”
Derek rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. Stiles rubbed the spot between his shoulders and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Hey,” he said. “Talk to me.”
Derek leaned into the touch, their shoulders brushing together. It’d taken a little while for them to get to this point; one of quiet trust. The kind that didn’t need to be spoken aloud and could be heard just as well through touch, rather than words. It was a big thing for werewolves, Stiles had noticed, moving his hand up to trace along the back of Derek’s neck. The older man sighed softly as his eyes fluttered closed. “Stiles…”
“I’m here.”
“It’s today,” Derek whispered. His eyes opened again and gazed distantly at nothing. “Laura’s birthday. She would’ve been turning twenty-nine.”
Stiles’s stomach sunk.
“The last time we celebrated was before the fire,” Derek said. “We never really did anything after that. She was always working late or we just pretended it didn’t happen. It wasn’t the same, being just the two of us.”
“I’m sorry,” Stiles said quietly. Derek looked at him nervously.
“I know I didn’t mention it last night. Things have been… good lately. I didn’t want to mess that up.”
“Oh my god,” Stiles said, looking at the werewolf in exasperation. “Derek, I want you to tell me everything always. It won’t mess anything up. I want to be there for you whenever I can.”
“You’re a sap,” Derek told him. Stiles rolled his eyes.
“Yes, but I’m your sap. And I’d like to be the kind of sap you feel confident to confide in. Whenever, no matter what it is.”
Derek smiled. Cupping his face with both hands, Stiles leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the man’s forehead. Derek melted into the touch and Stiles brushed his nose against his, placing another kiss on Derek’s cheek.
“I love you,” he whispered. “And I’m always here, Sourwolf.”
Derek had his eyes closed when Stiles pulled back, as if he was trying to memorize the moment. Stiles rubbed his thumb over the back of the man’s hand and chewed on his lower lip as Derek opened his eyes again, the grey-green of them glazed slightly. Leaning forward, Stiles rested his chin on his shoulder.
“We’ll stay inside today,” he said. “We’ll kick the rest of the pack out and we can do whatever you want. Make cookies, watch movies, sleep the entire time. I don’t care.”
“The pack won’t like that,” Derek said. Stiles huffed.
“I’ll make them like it.”
“Rude!”
Stiles squawked, startling so hard he slipped off the edge of the bed and went tumbling to the floor. Derek was on his feet in a second and the door creaked open to reveal all three betas gathered in front of it. Stiles shoved himself up, glaring indignantly. “What the hell, guys? What are you doing?”
“Something felt wrong this morning,” Isaac said, peering over the top of Erica’s head. “We wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“And you decided to stick around for the rest of the show after that?”
“Well, you two are disgustingly sweet,” Erica said, a smirk tugging at her lips. “And since someone forgot to stock up on cocoa puffs, I had to get my spoonful of sugar somehow.”
“I tried to stop them,” Boyd said. “But then…”
“I think we could totally be that sweet,” Erica said, turning to grab Boyd’s face. She planted a giant kiss on his forehead and then crooned some things that made Stiles roll his eyes, while Boyd turned into a flushing mess.
Shoving himself up, Stiles stalked across the room and the betas scrambled backward, taking off down the hall. He shut the door with a sigh, flipping the lock and turning back to Derek.
“I hate your betas sometimes.”
“Believe me,” Derek said. “I usually wonder why I chose them.”
“Rude!”
“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “They better be out of the house by the time we leave this room.”
Derek just looked at him. Stiles raised a brow, shifting from foot to foot.
“Der?”
“Come here,” Derek said, and Stiles moved forward nervously. The man took his hands and moved up, touching his lips against Stiles’s forehead. Stiles chuckled; he couldn’t help it. Derek’s unshaved stubble always tickled more in the morning.
“What was that for?”
“I love you too,” Derek said. “And thank you. For being here. Laura… she would’ve loved you.”
“You’re a sap,” Stiles said. Derek rolled his eyes.
“But I’m your sap.”
“Yeah,” Stiles said. “Mine.”
Derek’s eyes flashed red and he growled lowly. Stiles smirked and moved forward, catching Derek’s lips with his and then peppered little kisses all across his face. Derek leaned toward his ear and sighed, breaths ticking his skin. “Yours.”
“Always.”