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It isn't easy to get the whole pack together. Not because of mistrust or rivalry or even hatred - no, they've managed to work through that during their time together - but because everyone is just so busy. The others have school and final exams before graduation, and while Derek could give you a play-by-play of his last week of high school and insist it wasn't that long ago, only about five years - Laura, being the oldest, had made him go back even after leaving Beacon Hills - he still realized that maybe all his friends shouldn't be teenagers.
The only person he's even able to get a beer with is Parrish and they don't do that often because of work and it's awkward.
So one dreary Thursday afternoon, Derek stares up at the ceiling and thinks hard about what he wants to do with his life. The only answer that comes to mind leaves him sad and he feels more lonely than ever, but it's clear and strong and, deep down, he knows that it's the right thing to do. So he picks up his phone and group texts the pack, telling them that they need to meet, that it isn't life or death important but something they need to know eventually.
The day after graduation, that's when they finally end up in Derek's loft.
***
Stiles is feeling restless. He isn't exactly sure why; high school is over, there's still an entire summer until college, there are no tests or homework or monsters in sight. Graduation went off almost with a hitch - he temporarily misplaced his gown, no big deal - with Lydia as valedictorian. They'd celebrated with their parents. He should be relaxed, waiting to order pizza or Chinese or whatever they decide on to celebrate as a pack.
But they're not. Because a couple of weeks before, Derek sent a text saying they needed to meet and talk and it's done nothing except drive him insane. Sure, the guy has always driven him a little nuts. But this time it's different; it's big, it's catastrophically huge - maybe - and it's even got Scott a little on edge. And Scott is a big bad Alpha, he probably can smell that something isn't right. So if Scott's a little worried, Stiles is most definitely worried.
Especially since Derek isn't making things any easier by leaning on the table long the window, shoulders tense and arms crossed. It makes his t-shirt seem tighter than it was before, but Stiles is too worried to focus on that bit. He glances around the room, notices that even Lydia is paying attention without her usual level of smartassness - Stiles wonders if that's an actual word, then decides that yes it is, because going over that properly isn't something he wants to do. Ever.
He makes up words now. The others will deal.
"I'm leaving," Derek finally tells them. In all honesty, he probably could have whispered it, not wanting anyone to actually hear, but no one has spoken for the entire ten minutes they've been in the apartment, so it's more like an echo. It bounces off the walls and smacks people in the face until their jaws can only drop.
It's other five minutes before anyone speaks again.
"Wait, you're leaving?" Scott asks, unable to wrap his head around that. Stiles is feeling the same. "As in actually leaving? Like, moving away and not coming back?"
"Well, I'm not against visiting, I might even come if you need me, but yeah, moving away is the general idea," Derek replies with an eye roll. It doesn't come with his usual level of snark, in fact he sounds just as down as the rest of them.
Then why are you doing it, Stiles wants to shout. He doesn't.
Or maybe he does. Because Derek turns to him, as does everyone else. Lydia and Malia are biting back something that causes their lips to curl upward, maybe a grin, could be a scoff. Kira and Scott agree with him completely, his best friend more than his girlfriend, because despite all the bad times, the beginning when neither side trusted the other and there was a lot of anger and fear, they've still been through too much together and Derek can't just leave without an explanation. Parrish just looks ahead and nods, but he's new to all of this and only comes to learn about what he might be, so either Derek accidentally left him in the group text or Lydia dragged him here. Either way, Stiles doesn't focus on him for too long.
"Because it's the right thing to do," Derek says quietly. He drops his arms in a way Stiles will totally call a sign of dejection when he convinces the guy to stay. "I came here to find my sister and what she was investigating. On the way, I lost my sister, found a sister and became part of a pack again. But I also gained and lost friends, we all did. And this place, it just isn't home anymore. I did what I came here to do and more, now it's time to go."
"But we're a pack," Kira says. "You said it yourself. You can't leave us."
"I'm not leaving you," he promises, revealing one of those rare, small smiles that always makes Stiles' breath catch and his own smile want to come through. Because he's... normal when he smiles, or as normal as semi-violent werewolf called Derek can be, and Stiles likes that. "I'll consider myself a member of this pack for as long as you want me. This is just something I have to do. Maybe I'll miss Beacon Hills so much that I actually come back because I want to. Maybe I'll just miss you lot and visit more than I planned. I guess we'll see."
"Do you know where you're going?" It's Malia's turn to ask a question.
The two cousins stare each other down, having the type of silent conversation that only Hales seem to have. Eventually he shakes his head. "Right now my plan is to just... drive. But I didn't want to just take off, you all needed to know."
"So we don't come looking for you again," Scott says in a tone you know means he'd have done so willingly.
"Partly. That you know why and will know I'm safe so don't need to come looking was more what I was thinking," Derek admits with a shrug.
That's when Stiles stops listening. He can't do it anymore, just sit and listen and pretend he's okay with Derek leaving them, leaving him. After all the crap they've been through, he'd have thought the stubborn, stupid werewolf would have finally realized he belongs in Beacon Hills.
That sounds strange, even in his head. Like rational thought and instinct and everything else is working together to contradict what he tells himself. Like, deep down, he doesn't believe that Derek belongs in this town.
Still, when the others get up to order pizza or Chinese or whatever they decide on, Stiles goes to Derek and says, "Don't go."
"Come with me," Derek counters, challenging him almost; making him see that demands aren't so easy to follow through.
Except his is. Stiles is so close to saying okay, only he bites his tongue before the word can escape. First, because Derek, already thinking he's won the argument, walks away. Second, because he's not even sure why he wants to agree and leave with a man who's spent at least most of their time together insulting him and hating him and even hurting him a little.
But he's also complimented him and liked being with him and saved him, so Stiles knows he's not all bad.
Plus there's the... other reasons. But they can't mean anything.
Can they?
***
Stiles wakes up in his own bed. Him and the others had left soon after finishing their pizza. Now he's alone, his mind still on what he'd wanted to say, wondering why he wanted to say it. Derek is probably packing right now, if he even has things he wants to take with him. He wishes he can go there, try and persuade him to stay with them. He wishes he can pack his stuff and take him up on his offer.
He doesn't do either.
Scott finds him still in his room some time after noon, lying on top of his covers in bed. He'd thought about getting showered and dressed, even got as far as to stand up and pull off his t-shirt, and then he'd wondered about the point of it all, decided there wasn't one and fell back down. He hasn't moved since.
Scott doesn't comment on that, or anything at all. Instead, he kicks off his trainers and copies Stiles, so they're side-by-side and looking at the bumps in the ceiling.
"Spoken to Derek today?"
"Yep."
"And?"
Scott turns to him in concern. "Do you really want to know, Stiles?" He hesitates before he nods, but it's assured enough for his friend. "He'll be gone by four. He's really leaving. I spent all last night hoping he'd change his mind, then this morning hoping it was a dream. But then he called me and said the loft was in his name, that it wouldn't be sold, and he reminded me of the alarm code and that we have keys so we can still use it. It hit me that he was really leaving then. I came straight here.
"I just -" Scott sighs, frustrated. "He was such an ass, but he always came through for us when we needed him. And then he became a friend and... it's just going to be weird with him gone. How are you handling it?"
"Fine. I'm fine, Scott. Why wouldn't I be fine?" Stiles asks him. He doesn't quite recognize his own voice. It's much too quiet.
"You didn't take it very well when he told us the news and now you've locked yourself away in your room."
"Well, I haven't locked myself away, clearly, because you're in here," he points out. "It's just going to take some getting used to, that's all."
"I suppose one good thing will come from it," Scott says with a kind of grimace. "Your life will get much easier without him around."
"My life?" Stiles sits up on his bed and turns to face him, tugging on Scott's arm until he finally takes the hint and joins him. "What do you mean my life will get easier?" he demands.
"I just mean that with him gone, so will the tension between you," Scott explains.
"Tension?"
"Yeah."
Stiles' arms and shoulders shake because he so wants that explained further, but can't find the words. "What tension?" he finally gets out.
"Lust, passion, arousal," his best friend replies, using the same words Stiles himself has used to describe it.
"You smelt that on me?" Scott nods, looking unsure now that he's telling him. Stiles' voice drops to a whisper. "Did you smell that on him?"
"Not as much. You're a stereotypically horny teenager, he is not. It's not all I picked up on."
Stiles is almost afraid to ask. "What else did you pick up on?"
It takes him a while to find the right words, and even then he doesn't look like he wants to say it. "The same thing I picked up on you. Something... more."
The speed with which Stiles jumps off the bed startles Scott. The boy in question, however, is too busy freaking out to notice. "Oh, my God! Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"I'm sorry. I figured you'd know what you were feeling. I wasn't sure you'd believe me about what he feels," Scott stammers out in defense.
"I'm an emotionally immature eighteen year old with a terrible dating record who apparently has feelings for a borderline masochistic werewolf guy with a, what, five age difference, whose track record in dating sucks worse than mine." He finally takes a breath and leans in close. "Do you really think I'd know?"
Scott has to say no.
Pacing the side of the bed, Stiles alternates between running his hand though hair and pressing his arms in front of him. His hair is a mess and there are red marks along his chest by the time he's ready to speak again.
"Do you think he knows? Do you think that's why he's leaving?" He is assured that no, Derek probably hasn't figured it out and is leaving for the reasons he said so. "He asked me to go with him, you know. I figured he was just making a point or something."
"What did you say?"
"I didn't say anything," he says with a shrug. But then he admits, "I wanted to say okay."
Stiles expects the harsh breath his friend takes after hearing that little declaration, it's the murmured 'I thought you would have' that has him staring back in shock while his mind works to turn everything he's ever known upside down.
Why shouldn't he go with Derek? It's what he apparently wants to do and if Derek was so open to suggesting it, and if Scott is right about what he sensed around them, then surely the guy can't be completely against the idea. The age difference - which he likes to think is the reason Derek never did anything, when he's all alone at night and allows his mind to wander - doesn't mean much anymore because Stiles is eighteen and everything is legal. School is over, so there's nothing to keep him in Beacon Hills. Except his dad.
His dad. Who is not the sheriff in that moment, just the man who raised him, who loves him. He can't leave the old man alone; maybe if his mom was here, but she isn't and he's never really gotten over that. Can Stiles really put what he wants first?
Then he remembers that he already is. College is coming, not for a while yet but it's not in years to come either. It's happening and he's going, has already accepted Berkeley. Which means he'll be back and his dad will be here and this is like a road trip, like one of the stories he and Scott used to tell each other would be an adventure. Only this is with Derek.
He can do that. He kinda really wants to do that.
"Dude, your heartbeat is erratic and it's starting to freak me out," Scott says, breaking his concentration.
"Pack my bags. Come on, Scott. I gotta call my dad."
Stiles rushes off, not thinking about anything other than right now. And if he's accidentally ignoring Scott call out his name, then he's sure he'll be forgiven.
***
"Come on, Dad. Pick up the phone," Stiles mutters.
He's back in his room, dressed and with a large duffel bag open on his bed. It's half full and he's playing with the strap, taking in everything in his room that Scott isn't holding; between the two of them, they'd thought they could get it done in record time. And maybe they might have, except his dad isn't answering his cell or his office phone at the station and he's stalling. It's half past three already and he wants to talk to his dad on the phone, since he can't in person, but it's starting to look like he'll have to leave a message.
He isn't ready to do that yet. Because that will mean he's actually doing this and he still isn't quite sure why.
Dropping the phone, Stiles grabs the last of his pile of clothes and drops them in.
"If we tell Derek what's happening, he'll wait," Scott tries to promise, but Stiles has known him long enough to tell when he isn't sure of himself. Derek can be difficult when it comes to what he wants and if he's willing to get it and Stiles can be too unpredictable for him to handle when he has time to think.
So no telling Derek first.
He puts his laptop in his backpack, along with other little things like his handheld games, his medication, money and snacks he stole from the kitchen cupboards, including the box of chocolate bars his dad had tried to hide. As well as clothes in the duffel, he puts in a few books and comics, along with his own hard copy of the bestiary he put together. Just in case. Then there's the necessities, like deodorant and a toothbrush and anything else he thinks he might need - because if his plan works then God only knows where they might go.
Finally, he turns to his best friend, who still looks like he wants to put an end to this insane plan and keep him here.
"It's gonna be okay, Scott. I'm coming back, remember?"
"Yeah, for college. But what about during that and after? This is you going after Derek! What if he doesn't want you to go? Or what if he does and you don't want to come back? Stiles, you're my best friend."
"And you can't live without me, I know," he adds with a grin. "And you're not going to; we'll still talk every day on the phone. And this way you'll know that Derek will be alright. You're the reason I get to come back. Well, you and my dad and my jeep. And the others, of course."
"I won't tell Lydia and Melia you didn't mention them," he promises when he catches the cautious look on Stiles' face. "It's just, we used to always say we'd go. Now you are and it's... hard. Because you're not going with me."
"One day I will."
You say that now, Scott wants to say. Stiles can see it as clear on his face as though he said the words. He vows they will; it'd be nice to have an adventure with his best friend that doesn't involve potential death.
Instead Scott claps him on the back and offers him a smile. "If you come back and tell me he wasn't worth it or if he hurts you in any way, I'll kill him for you."
"No, you won't."
"No," he admits, his smile wider, as is Stiles'. "But he'll wish I would. Come on, if you're really going to do this you can call your dad from the car."
His heart hammers in his chest, but thankfully Scott doesn't mention it. They get all the way to the jeep before Stiles says anything. "If I let you drive, do you promise not to go in the wrong direction?"
"No."
Stiles takes a chance anyway.
Despite his honest admission about potentially driving him the wrong way and missing Derek, Scott takes him to the loft. The car has barely stopped and they can both see that Derek's car isn't there. Stiles checks his watch, his phone and Scott's, all of which tell him it's five to four. But Derek has already gone.
"We can still catch him," his friend says, already turning the jeep around and getting back on the road. Stiles tries to say that it's too late, that Derek might be long gone by now.
That's when they see the Camaro turning on the next street.
And that's when Stiles' dad calls back.
"Follow him," he snaps, pressing answer. "Hey dad. Before I give you my reason for calling, let me make it clear that I am not in trouble in any way, there's no big bad, everything is fine."
"Stiles, what have done?" his father sighs down the phone. But it's the kind of annoyed sigh parents do when they think the child themselves have done something stupid. He calls that a success.
"I'm going on a road trip. It's my pre-college way of giving myself a break. I'll be back before summer ends," he explains in a rush.
The sheriff says nothing, neither of them do. Stiles wonders if his dad is mad, sad or anything in between. When he sighs again, it sound more resigned, like he knows . "Scott told me that Derek is leaving. He warned me."
He turns his head to his sheepish friend. "Oh, he did, did he?" Lights turn red and both cars stop; there's only one car between him and Derek. Now or never. "Dad, I'll tell you whatever you want in a few minutes; there's just something I've gotta do."
Phone in one hand and eye on the lights, Stiles awkwardly maneuvers his backpack onto his shoulder and his duffel bag into his free hand. Then he turns to Scott.
"Why are you doing this?"
"It's okay to want something for yourself every once in a while. You told me that."
He remembers. Traffic is still cutting across the road, the light is still on red; he has a little time to pull Scott in for what he counts as a hug despite the bags in between them. "I love you, buddy."
"You too," Scott murmured. He leans over to open the door for him. "I'll look after your jeep till you get back."
"You better had," Stiles threatens with a grin that is only mildly threatening.
He jumps out of the jeep and into Derek's car.
***
Derek didn't really want to leave early, but he'd told the others he'd be gone around four and he hadn't wanted to be surprised with goodbyes. Still, he considers the traffic going by his punishment and he takes it because he has to. Because the alternative is cutting the lights and maybe causing an accident and he doesn't want to risk jail before he can get out of town.
He tries not to think of the others, of the cousin he barely knows and the friends he's hardly even made. Because they're so much more than that; they're pack, leaving them is like having a limb torn off.
Just remembering the look on Stiles' face...
Derek pushes that away, too. He can't believe he actually asked the kid to come with him... or, well, dared him would be more accurate. Not that Stiles seemed to notice just how true he kind of wished it could be; he doesn't know whether to be thankful or devastated, so he settles for ignoring it.
Traffic seems to be slowing down, the lights to his left looking ready to turn red, and Derek prepares to drive off and leave Beacon Hills behind when passenger door opens, the seat is pushed forward and bags are thrown in. He can clearly see familiar faded jeans and the edge of a grey t-shirt he thinks might be his, but he doesn't let himself believe that its who he thinks it is until the seat is pushed back again and Stiles jumps in.
"I'm still here. Hang on." He rests the phone against his chest and smiles. "Hey, Derek."
Derek, flustered and confused, can only go, "What the hell, Stiles?"
"You invited me, remember?"
The confusion on his face doesn't last, it quickly turning until a wide, though fake, grin. It's the heavy beating of the younger guy's chest that reveals just how petrified he is about whatever's happening.
Derek remembers the 'invitation'. "Stiles, what I said - I didn't - you didn't have to - why are you here?"
It's all he can really manage, but it seems to calm Stiles' heart a little and the third time his smile is much more genuine. "I'll tell you about it on the way," he says, gesturing to the green light, and Derek finally focuses on the car horns going off behind him, yells joining it to make a distorted, angry rhythm.
Still, it's another few seconds before Derek finally believes that Stiles is actually in the car with him and that they're going. Both of them. He takes off the brake and moves.
"So dad, you were asking?" Stiles says into the phone.
Derek listens along, keeping quiet. He can't wait to hear the full story.