Work Text:
Derek sat on the lowest branch of the tree, his legs dangling beneath him as he studied the sky. There was a storm brewing further north, the smell of the rain heavy in the air, and he shivered as a damp, cool breeze blew through the leaves. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face as he let his mind go. He allowed in the thoughts he’d been holding at bay since early that morning when he’d awoken beside Stiles on the mattress in the corner of the loft.
The hand he’d rubbed over his face went to his chest, and he attempted to rub away the ache growing there. He’d awoke in the dim light of the early morning light and rolled over to see Stiles watching him through still heavy-lidded eyes. His phone in his hand told Derek he’d snoozed his alarm and was putting off getting out of bed to head into work. As Derek watched, Stiles pushed himself onto his elbow and pressed a kiss to the tip of Derek’s nose; they’d both learned the hazards of morning breath.
Climbing off the bed, Stiles stood and headed towards the bathroom, Derek watching him as he went. He thought over the previous year and the number of times they’d woken up together. He wondered what it was that was happening between the two of them. When it had all started, he figured it was all a fling for Stiles, but he’d been spending more and more nights at the loft and a few weeks earlier, he’d mentioned plans for a few months in the future. Derek wanted this thing between them to be serious, but he didn’t know how to ask without sounding clingy.
Even with his mind reeling, he managed to fall back to sleep, Derek woke when Stiles came back, showered, and dressed. He stood next to the bed in his uniform, eyes still half-mast, as they would be until he had his first cup of coffee. “Don’t stay in bed all day, lazy wolf,” he said, kissing his fingers and pressing them to Derek’s lips before turning to head towards the stairs.
Derek stole Stiles’ pillow and snuggled into it. “I won’t. Love you,” he mumbled.
The sound of Stiles’ keys hitting the floor sent Derek upright in bed. His eyes met Stiles’ suddenly wide-open ones. His mind went back over the conversation they’d just had, stuttering to a stop on the words never before spoken between the two of them.
Stiles fishmouthed, and Derek leaped off the bed, shifting as he did so. He was thankful he’d forgone sleeping in sweats as he’d already lost several pairs shifting without thought. He hurried down the stairs on four legs, skidding to a halt when he reached the loft door. He debated shifting back to open it so he could escape, but Stiles was already down the stairs and right behind him.
A hand fell on the scruff of his neck, and he recoiled, ducking out from under it and heading towards the couch. He tried to crawl underneath it and only succeeded in knocking it over onto its back. He huffed and curled up behind it, knowing it wasn’t an ideal hiding place, but he was limited in the open space of the loft. Even if he went into the bathroom and managed to close the door, Stiles would be through it before he had a chance to shift back and lock it.
Stiles settled on the floor at the opposite end of the couch, glancing over at him. He didn’t smell angry or upset, only confused and Derek felt terrible. They’d been doing this thing they do for almost a year now, and never once did Derek tell Stiles he loved him. Those were words he just didn’t say anymore. Every non-family person he’d ever said, “I love you,” to was dead now. In fact, the only person he’d ever said it to that was still alive was his sister Cora and he hadn’t said it to her since long before the fire.
The truth was that he loved Stiles far too much to tell him.
“I already knew, ya know?” Stiles said after the silence had dragged on between them and the sun was starting to rise. He was texting on his phone, and when Derek lifted his head, he tilted the phone enough to see that he was texting his dad to say he was going to be late for work.
Derek dropped his head to his paws. He was a terrible boyfriend, making Stiles late because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He started to rise to find a way out when Stiles moved closer and dropped a hand to rub at Derek’s ears.
“Growing up, I watched my mom and dad. They loved each other so much that everyone knew it, but I never once heard them say it to each other,” Stiles told him. “I was in awe of other couples who threw it around all the time, and I wondered if maybe my parents didn’t love each other as much as I thought.”
Derek whined, and Stiles smiled down at him. His eyes were slightly damp, but he only smelled nostalgic, not sad, so Derek scooted closer to him. He nudged his knee with his nose and was rewarded with some more head scratches.
“After my mom died, once Dad had put the bottle away, I asked him about it. He’d looked so hurt by the question that I immediately started to apologize, and he waved me off.” Stiles laughed and leaned his head back against the couch. “He asked me if I thought that he loved my mom, and I told him I did because he was always smiling around her and doing things for her.
“He told me, ‘I smiled because she made me happy. I did things for her because I loved her. I didn’t need to tell her I loved her because she already knew that I did.’” Stiles lifted Derek’s chin up so that they could make eye contact. “Today might be the first time you said those words to me, but you’ve been telling me long before we got together.”
Derek shifted back, pulling the blanket that usually laid over the back of the couch across his lap; he wasn’t embarrassed, but this didn’t seem to be a conversation to be had while one of them was naked. “I don’t say it,” he said. “I haven’t said it to anyone since…” He swallowed hard, and Stiles’ face creased into a frown. “I killed the first person outside my family that I said it to and-”
“You didn’t kill Paige,” Stiles argued, and Derek rolled his eyes and looked across the room towards the windows. “You ended her suffering. And you did love her. You also loved Kate but telling her you loved her had nothing to do with what she did to your family. They are just words, Derek. I don’t need the words, and if they are so hard for you to say, I don’t want them either.”
“You don’t want me to love you?” Derek asked, confused.
“I don’t have to want you to love me because you already do, and you show me every day in little ways.”
“Right,” Derek said, rubbing at his eyes.
“Dude, you always make sure my uniform is clean, pressed, and ready for me when I spend the night. I’m still not sure when you do that, by the way. You keep your fridge and cupboards stocked with my favorite things. You came to every single presentation I gave in college, even if you had no interest in the topic,” Stiles listed off.
“That one you gave on the history of male circumcision was pretty interesting,” Derek offered, grinning when Stiles rolled his eyes and smacked him in the arm.
“You hate texting, but you send me at least one message a day so that I know that you are thinking of me. You say things like ‘drive safe’ and ‘do you have your gloves’ to make sure I’m taking care of myself. You put yourself between me and an utterly crazy Alpha and a Kanima and me without thought to your personal safety-”
“You held me up for two hours in eight feet of water,” Derek pointed out.
“Even though I didn’t know it then, I did it because I love you,” Stiles told him.
Derek thought about his words. Not just those last three but all of the ones he’d said to him that morning. “Does this mean we’re actually together?”
Stiles laughed as he stood up and offered Derek his hand. “Derek, we’ve been actually together since you kissed me under the fake mistletoe at Scott and Kira’s Christmas party.” He pressed a quick kiss to Derek’s lips. “Now, I have to go to work before my dad murders me.”
“Drive safe,” Derek called after him.
“I love you, too,” Stiles responded with a wink.