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Falling in love? That’s the easy part.
It’s so easy, in fact, that Derek never even noticed it happening. When exactly did his dislike of the loudly annoying Stiles Stilinski morph into something entirely different? He thinks it wasn’t a single moment. Something that huge and transformative? He would have noticed that, if it was all at once, like an incoming tidal wave smashing into him and turning him end over end.
It had to be more like a river, slowly and steadily chipping away at his resistance. The incident in the pool with the kanima venom? Chip. The sympathy after Boyd’s death? Chip. Those were big things, but there were countless smaller things, too.
Little things like the way he laughed, throwing his head back and putting his whole body into it. The endless stream of consciousness coming from his mouth. At first that had been annoying, but gradually? Gradually it became soothing, and then entertaining. After all, if Stiles was talking, it meant Derek didn’t have to. Besides, Stiles knew a lot of things, and he was smart. Sometimes his ideas were ridiculous, but by not censoring himself he came up with patterns and conclusions so much faster than anyone else. The awkwardness and clumsiness likewise was aggravating at first, but later? Endearing. Derek had come to realize that most of the time when Stiles tripped or stumbled it was because his brain was working out some problem or another. When it counted, he pulled it together. He was more athletic and stronger than most people gave him credit for.
The sarcasm could be cutting, but again… also whip-smart and on point. He claimed it was his only defense, which may have been true once, but not now. Probably not then, either. He used it to distract and deflect so that he was constantly underestimated.
But the things that really mattered snuck up on Derek. Stiles wasn’t easy to win over, but when you did? You had his loyalty, completely. He defended Derek when appropriate, pushed him when he needed pushing, somehow knew when pushing was a Very Bad Idea.
Derek wasn’t entirely sure when Stiles had become his friend at all, let alone the most trusted one.
How could someone so loud and bright end up being so sneaky in the ways that counted the most?
Stiles reached over and pushed him in the bicep. “You’re being quiet, even for you, Sourwolf,” he commented. He was sitting next to him on a large flat rock, roasting a hot dog over the fire in Scott’s back yard.
“Just… thinking,” he murmured.
“Yeah? About what?”
The fire cast flickering highlights over Stiles’ hair. He’d grown it out since the buzz cut days, thank God. Derek much preferred this look, though in the end it didn’t matter all that much. Stiles’ most attractive feature was his intelligence, which had absolutely nothing to do with his physical appearance.
Still, having beautiful amber-brown eyes didn’t hurt, and those moles had become ridiculously distracting. Sometimes he had fantasies about tracing a path between them, first with his fingertip, then with his tongue.
He coughed and scowled.
“Nothing.”
“Right. Nothing. Well… when you’re ready to tell me, I’m ready to listen.”
“Mm.”
Falling in love, that’s the easy part. Doing anything about it?
Impossible.