Work Text:
Stiles didn't mean for it to happen. He really really didn't. But how much could he be expected to take? How many times was he going to have to see Derek almost die? How many times was he going to have to save his life?
None of it's fair, not one single part of any of their lives, but Stiles has always been stuck on how much worse it was for Derek.
Because they've all lost a lot, but Derek? He's lost just about every god damn thing he ever could. And it isn't fair.
Derek has to carry so much shit with him every day, and sometimes it wears him down so much Stiles swears he can see it. Can see all of the guilt and regret permanently embedded onto Derek's shoulders.
It shouldn't bother Stiles as much as it does, he knows that. It shouldn't make him as sad and angry as it does, shouldn't make him hate Kate Argent more than he's ever hated anything in his entire life. More than everyone who's taken people from them, more than Derek and Peter and Theo back when he used to hate them. (But looking back, he never really hated Derek.) More than the fucking Nogistune.
Stiles keeps it all to himself, because how could he explain that knowing Derek's been through so much shit makes his heart break a little more each time he thinks about it?
But the thing is, he wouldn't have to think about it so much if shit would just stop happening to them. But it never does. There's always a new tragedy looming on the horizon. And Stiles is sick and tired of Derek being the main fucking target for them.
Ultimately, that's the reason he does what he does.
Derek is hurt, healing, but still hurt.
"He just needs rest, we all do." Scott had said.
And Stiles knows he right. But it was another close call and Stiles was the only one there, the only one that saw too-large claws digging into Derek, and the only one who was there to save him. It’s not the first time they'd been in a situation like that, and that was the problem. It had taken its toll on Stiles, and this time he just snapped.
So when the rest of the pack has left and it's just Derek and Stiles left in the loft, Derek who's breathing still hasn't gone back to normal, Derek who's still wincing in pain every time he moves even though all of the wolves took away as much of the pain as they could, Derek who's hurt, Stiles does what every instinct in his body is screaming at him to do.
He kneels down next to Derek who's laying on the couch, so they're face to face, and he kisses him as carefully as he can.
Stiles hadn't really been aware of what was happening, everything since the attack has gone by in a blur. He has vague memories of the drive to Derek's loft, of Scott talking to him about the monster, of the pack leaving, of watching Derek. But the kiss snaps him back into place. He didn't mean to kiss him, but he knows he's thought about kissing Derek before, and not just after near-death experiences.
He thinks maybe he should pull away and apologize, but then Derek's kissing back and moving a hand to the back of Stiles' head to run his fingers through his hair, the other hand still pressed firmly against the worst part of his wound.
Stiles shuts his brain off and just focuses on kissing Derek. Derek who's here and safe, even if he's hurt, even if he's gone through too much shit to ever be anything other than broken. He's still here and he's still safe, and Stiles is going to keep it that way or so help him, god—
"Stiles?" Derek whispers. He looks confused, but he doesn't look upset or disgusted or any of the other things Stiles realizes he’s worried Derek might feel if he ever kissed him.
"I think if I have to watch you almost get killed one more time I'm going to go insane."
"I'm sorry." Derek says, but he's smiling, the jackass.
"Don't be. It's not your fault the universe hates you."
"Wow, rude."
"Fuck the universe. I don't hate you and that's all that matters."
Derek laughs then, and Stiles sees the small wince he tries to hide.
"Someone's full of themself."
Stiles scoffs and resists the urge to shove Derek playfully, because well, huge painful wound covering his chest, remember? He's quiet for a moment and Derek can tell that he's being serious now.
"I just...you deserve better. You deserve to have a life where you don't have to worry about being killed."
"So do you," Derek says, serious and slightly confused.
"You deserve it more though, you've been dealing with this kind of stuff for too long."
Derek looks at him intensely then. It definitely does not make Stiles blush.
"You're worried about me," Derek says suddenly.
"Of course I'm worried about you! Are you only just now getting that?"
"I thought it was because I got hurt. I mean, it is because I got hurt, but it's more than that, right?"
"I'm always worried about you." Stiles sighs. He lays his head down on the couch so he doesn't have to look at Derek.
"I can take care of myself."
"Obviously. You're a werewolf, taking care of yourself is no problem."
"Then what are you..?" Derek trails off, and it's quiet for a long moment. Stiles doesn't know if Derek will be able to put the pieces together on his own, there's so much unsaid between them. There always has been.
"I'm not just worried about you dying. I'm worried about you... not living? Like, really living. We're all so busy trying to stay alive it's like we don't take the time to actually live, and I want you to get to live."
"You don't have to worry about me like that Stiles."
"I can't really help it."
And well, he can't. Not when he has all of these feelings for Derek. And he doesn't say that part out loud, but he thinks Derek understands anyways. He hopes he does.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh."
"I worry about you too. And not just because you're an idiot who's always getting himself in the most dangerous situations possible."
Stiles laughs softly.
"So where does that leave us?"
"I think it leaves us here," Derek says, before leaning in and kissing Stiles again.
Yeah. Stiles thinks he can work with that.