Work Text:
There was something about the soft glow of amber eyes that could make Derek’s heart twist. Something about pale mole-dotted skin that Derek used to imagine tracing, sitting under the stars as he wondered if they’d reveal the same constellations. Something about the smell of cinnamon and electricity that made Derek’s stomach twist and his heart hurt.
Derek had never had the best luck finding love.
He could probably laugh it off. After his past, after Kate, Derek had decided it probably just wasn't for him. He always made the wrong decisions. He always went after the things he yearned for and there was always someone that got burned because of it.
It wasn’t always him. And Derek was terrified about who might get hurt next.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t watch. The soft glow of amber eyes that crinkled when they laughed. Stiles would throw his head back, pale neck stretched out, and Derek would just want. He wasn’t sure what exactly.
He would just want.
Suddenly, Stiles’s eyes met his own. Sitting across the bonfire they had started in front of the Hale house, Stiles grinned and wiggled his fingers through the air, expression nothing but playful. Derek only rolled his eyes and averted his gaze.
Stiles watched him for a few moments longer before turning back to Scott again.
There was something about summer nights like this. When the betas were back from college, when Stiles came to the Hale house in his blue jeep with a six-pack of Coke in his backseat and a bright grin on his face. The rest of the pack would filter in as the night stretched on and Derek would settle down on the bottom step of the Hale house, just quietly watching them.
He liked seeing how they all had grown. Not much appearance wise from four or so years ago, maybe, but the light in their eyes. The way Erica no longer curled in on herself, not like she had after the Alphas. Boyd smiled more and looked distant less. And Isaac was always smiling. Gentle, careful looks that sometimes came out in full and Derek loved to see those the most.
Because they were his. They were his pack. They were a part of Derek.
And then there was Stiles.
Still loud-mouthed, uncoordinated Stiles. But he’d grown into himself. Grown out his buzz cut and filled out in his shoulders. He cracked jokes and talked with the confidence of an Alpha himself. Sometimes it hurt, when Derek quietly wondered if he could call Stiles his too. Not his- his , maybe. Derek could never have that. But his. His pack. Part of him.
Part of him and Scott, perhaps.
Derek thought he could live with that. Or he could learn to live with it, at the very least.
It was the crunching of footsteps that drew Derek back to reality. He stiffened as Stiles moved closer and the boy laughed, raising his hands with an icy coke held in each.
“Relax, Sourwolf, I come bearing gifts.”
“I’m good.”
“Oh come on, big guy, a sugar rush or two isn’t going to ruin your little werewolfy ab muscles. I promise!”
Derek rolled his eyes but didn’t argue as Stiles popped the caps off the bottles and passed one over. Cold fingers brushed against his as Derek took it and he shivered, unintentionally leaning a little closer. Stiles’s eyes sparked but he didn’t say a word.
They watched the fire in silence for a moment. Then Stiles bumped against his shoulder.
“Feeling the pride, wolf-man?”
“What does that even mean, Stiles?”
“The pack,” Stiles said, laughing. “Your pack. Our pack.”
Derek tensed again but this time, it was for a completely different reason. He managed a jerky nod and Stiles sighed, leaning back against the steps. His long legs splayed out and his shirt rode up a little, even more as he lifted the soda bottle to his lips again.
“I bet you feel like a proud pack-mom.”
“A Pack-mom.”
“... A Pack dad?”
“Please never speak again.”
“Could be worse,” Stiles mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I could’ve called you pack daddy or something.”
Derek gave him a red-eyed look. One that might have startled a younger Stiles into shutting up but this one only grinned lazily, smirk coiling around the edges of his lips. Grunting, Derek just pushed himself up and left his coke on the step, turning inside.
Stiles’s voice followed him. “Derek, wait! Hold up, Sourbutt, I didn’t mean it!”
Derek closed the door behind him, rubbing a hand over his face for a moment as he sighed. Stiles didn’t follow, so Derek was pretty sure he’d scared him away. He listened to the sounds of his pack again, letting that lull him back into a sense of relaxation, and then moved into the main room.
Lydia sat on the couch, book in hand. Derek slowed, raising an eyebrow, and the girl gave him a green-eyed glance over her pages.
“You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”
Derek raised his other eyebrow too. Lydia sighed, setting her book down.
“So are you just never going to tell Stiles you love him, then?”
In a single moment, not even the sounds of Derek’s pack could calm him down. He stiffened and then turned away, stalking into the kitchen. He heard the sounds of Lydia sighing, pushing herself up, and then trailing after him.
Not for the first time, Derek wished she was a beta. At least he could growl obedience into Erica when she was pushing a little too far.
“It’s a wonder Stiles hasn’t found out yet,” Lydia said, trailing her fingers over the counter top. Then she frowned at them and looked back at Derek. “You look at him like he hung the moon.”
“Shut up.”
“That’s not denial, Derek.”
“Stop talking.”
Lydia rested two elbows on the counter, looking flatly at him. Derek would never admit out loud that she was a part of the pack that scared him a little. He had no control over Lydia and she knew that. Not like he’d ever really want it, but Lydia was smart. Lydia spoke her mind.
Derek would never attempt to cross a woman like her.
“One of these days,” Lydia said. “Someone else is going to fall in love with Stiles and he’s going to fall in love with them.”
Derek clenched his jaw, feeling like he’d been punched. It seemed like Lydia knew exactly where to land her blows, but Derek just didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that. Lydia was looking at him like there was something he was missing and Derek had no idea what it was. Only that apparently, he wasn’t the only one who agreed Stiles deserved a hell of a lot more.
He could love Stiles from a distance.
Nodding, Derek moved around her and stalked upstairs. The girl didn’t move to follow but Derek heard her sigh again. He ducked into his room, fangs poking at his lower lip.
Growling, he paced a few times. Then there was a knock on the door and Derek froze, scents of cinnamon and electricity reaching his nose.
Not that he needed to catch them. Derek knew Stiles’s heartbeat from a mile away.
“Hey, big guy,” the boy called. “Can I come in?”
“Go away, Stiles.”
“Lydia said you’re being a stubborn-headed idiot and I needed to come talk to you. Care to expand on that?”
Derek stared at the door for a moment. Then he swallowed hard. “No.”
“Too bad, I’m coming in.”
Derek flashed his eyes as Stiles pushed inside, if only on instinct. Stiles just rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him, before plodding across the room and dropping down on the edge of Derek’s bed.
“So, big guy. Talk.”
“I told you no.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. So, uh, is this gonna take all night? Because I’m getting comfortable if that’s true.”
Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles smirked at him. Before Derek could react, the boy stripped off his sweatshirt and then pulled off his shoes too, dropping back onto the bed with a sigh. He stretched out again, toes curling a little. Derek’s stomach flipped.
He was glad his betas were very far away.
“What are you doing, Stiles?”
“Getting comfortable.”
“I’m trying to kick you out.”
“Yeah,” Stiles said, those amber eyes studying his face. “And you’re doing a terrible job. Now unless you plan on forcibly manhandling me out of this room, I’m not leaving until you talk. Otherwise, Lydia is going to come for us both.”
“I’m not scared of Lydia.”
Stiles snorted. “Everyone is scared of Lydia.”
Derek growled and paced the room again. He could feel Stiles’s gaze tracking his every movement and he made the decision then; Stiles could stay here all night if he wanted to. Derek wasn’t saying a word.
Silently, he moved around the bed and climbed in. He could smell Stiles’s surprise.
Then to his own, Stiles climbed into bed too.
“Stiles,” Derek said, glaring hard at the opposite wall. “What the hell are you doing?”
“... Getting comfortable?”
“Get out.”
“Forcibly manhandling, dude. Forcibly manhandling.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Kinky.”
Derek tensed. For a moment, silence fell over the room and then Stiles sighed. Derek tensed even more, if that was possible, when a gentle hand laid on his shoulder. Stiles’s touch was much warmer now and there were calluses that line his palm. Every part of Derek’s brain screamed for him to move. Maybe snap and growl. That would send Stiles running.
He melted into the touch instead.
“You, uh, sound like you’re purring, dude,” Stiles said quietly. Derek snapped back to reality, clamping his mouth close, and did growl this time instead. Stiles chuckled. “There’s the Sourwolf I know.”
“Go away, Stiles.”
Stiles didn’t. Instead, his hand traced around to the back of his neck and Derek closed his eyes, shivering. Stiles made a soft noise of approval.
“Hey there, big guy.”
“Stiles—”
“Can you look at me?”
Derek hesitated for a long moment before rolling over. Stiles blinked at him with amber eyes and a small smile curled along the edges of his mouth. He reached out, tracing careful fingers over Derek’s face and eyebrows, before grinning. The expression slipped a little though, when Stiles’s fingers dipped downward and the pad of his thumb traced over Derek’s lips.
“Can you talk to me?”
“It’s fine, Stiles.”
Stiles’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He shifted forward so their noses were inches apart and his breaths warmed Derek’s face. “I missed you, you know.”
Derek blinked. Stiles wet his lips.
“When I was gone halfway across the country.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh, big guy.”
“Why?”
Stiles’s scent soured for a moment. He blinked a few times and looked away and Derek felt it like a punch to the stomach. As if he’d done something wrong. He’d done something wrong.
“I missed you too,” he said. Stiles huffed into the pillow.
“Softiewolf.”
“I’ll still rip your throat out.”
“Mmhm.”
Derek rolled his eyes and Stiles grinned again. The boy was quiet for a moment and then once more, his scent was tinged by something new. Nervousness maybe, but Derek wasn't sure why.
“Derek, I’m twenty-one now.”
“Yes.”
“An adult.”
“Frighteningly.”
“Shut up. As an adult, it’s my sacred duty to make the hard decisions and try stuff that might not end well, right?”
Derek studied his face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer that. “Like what?”
“I want to tell you something.”
“Stiles—”
“Never mind,” Stiles said. “I don’t want to tell you anything.”
Derek’s stomach sunk. But then Stiles’s eyes lit up and Derek could hear the way his heartbeats changed. They were quicker, louder, and that made him freeze for some reason. Stiles smirked, leaning closer.
“I want to do this.”
Derek didn’t expect to feel the boy’s lips brush against his. For a long moment he didn’t move and then suddenly he was. Moving forward, breathing Stiles in, then pulling the boy over him pressing upward. Stiles was grinning around his lips, scent intoxicating. He smelled happy. He smelled… well, definitely turned on. Stiles straddled him and one hand splayed flat on Derek’s chest, as if he thought that could hold him in place.
Derek’s brain was nothing but fuzz for a moment. He nipped at Stiles’s lower lip and let his eyes close. Stiles’s hands carded through his hair. Tightened their grasp and tilted his chin upward as sharp teeth nipped beneath Derek’s jaw.
Heat coiled in Derek’s stomach and spread like wildfire. An ache turned into a yearning. A want. Stiles’s amber eyes set him on fire and when Derek opened his own, he realized Stiles had come back up, lips inches away from his own, and was watching him with a soft smile.
Derek yanked away like he’d been burned.
Stiles was falling sideways in a second, scrambling around in the sheets as he tried to righten himself back up. Terror and hurt and anger— anger at himself— crashed over Derek. He pulled himself out of bed and backed away, shaking his head.
“We shouldn’t, Stiles.”
Stiles froze. His eyes widened and for a moment, he looked horrified. He drew a hand up to his lips and stumbled out of bed too, scent souring with tinges of guilt. “I-I’m sorry.”
“It’s not— you’re not—” But Derek couldn’t. He couldn’t hold Stiles close tonight knowing it was just tonight. And it was Stiles. It was the boy who would one day fall in love with someone else and Derek could only have the memories. That would tear him apart.
“It’s okay, Derek,” Stiles said softly. “I’m not what you want. I was wrong.”
Derek stared. Stiles gathered up his sweatshirt and shoes and it looked like he was shaking. He mumbling ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again, but all Derek could do was hear the boy’s words ringing through his ears.
“Stiles.”
The boy froze. His things slipped back to the floor and his eyes were fixed on the floor.
“Stiles, what did you say?”
Stiles chuckled humorlessly. He slowly met Derek’s eyes and there was no touch of amber. Just empty grief. “Derek, I’ve been in love with you for years.”
Derek stood stock-still. The ache was back.
“Sorry, big guy.”
Derek moved forward and Stiles shied back. Hesitating, Derek reached out and traced careful fingers over the boy’s cheek. Stiles turned his face into the touch and Derek moved his fingers toward the moles that dotted his face. Tracing lines from each one.
He thought they were their own constellation.
“Hey, big guy?”
“Stiles.”
“What is this to you? What do you want from it?”
Derek’s heart stuttered. He moved closer, brushing his lips over Stiles’s forehead, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him in close. “You.”
“Me.”
“Want you, Stiles.”
Derek did. He had for so long. He wanted the feeling of Stiles in his arms. Soft scents in the morning, a body wrapped in his arms. He wanted amber eyes to look at him and glow. Derek wanted to trace the constellations on Stiles’s skin every morning and every night.
But those words evaded him. He swallowed, resting his chin on the top of the boy’s head.
“I want you, Stiles.”
Stiles’s scent filled with happiness. Like earlier, lips tracing down Derek’s neck. He shivered again, despite the boy’s warmth.
Because see, Derek had never had the best luck finding love.
But this, this was different. This was no Kate. This was nothing of his past. This was Stiles; loud, spatic Stiles. Full of jokes and bright grins. With eyes like melted amber and skin gifted with constellations. This was his Stiles. His anchor.
This was his- his.
“I want you too,” Stiles said softly. Derek totally didn’t whimper.
Part of him.