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“Hello?”
Stiles knew from the way her dad’s posture changed that the station was on the other end of the phone. She also knew what was about to happen without him saying a word, without even seeing his face. They wouldn’t call unless they really needed him, not today.
“Go.” He turned to face her, spare hand over the receiver.
“Stiles-”
“I’ll be fine. Go.” She uncurled herself from her spot on the sofa and got up to escort him to the front door. While he finished the call and got his gun from the safe, she got his coat and ran through her limited choices for company, weighed her options and narrowed them down to one. Once he'd shrugged it on, the Sheriff took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye.
“Call your friends. Don’t be alone.”
“Already on it. Be safe.”
“Be law-abiding. I love you, kiddo.” He kissed her forehead as they hugged and she closed her eyes before they started to fill.
“Love you too, dad.”
The moment the cruiser was out of view Stiles went upstairs, shoved her laptop, a bunch of dvds and most of her candy stash in her school bag and grabbed her car keys. She had no plans to call anybody as it was generally easier to get forgiveness than permission, she didn’t know how much easier in this instance, but it was less likely that she’d be turned away at the door than on the phone.
From the lack of fanfare when she entered, she assumed one of the half-dozen or so people with superhuman hearing that could conceivably have been in in the loft had heard her jeep approach and turned off the alarm.
“What do you want, Stiles.” On any other day, she would have pointed out to Derek’s turned back that his complete lack of intonation had stopped being threatening and was now approaching endearingly characteristic. Because it wasn’t any other day, she just walked further into the apartment until she could see him putting away the grumpy-cat mug she’d Secret Santa-d him the previous Christmas. The memory of him swearing that nobody would ever see him using his made the corner of her mouth twitch, the closest she’d come to a genuine smile since she’d woken up that morning. He gave her the eyebrows of slight-annoyance-pretending-to-be-murderous-intent. “Stiles.”
“Sorry for turning up uninvited.” They both knew it was a lie but Stiles hoped Derek was at least giving her points for observing the niceties now that she was there. Something in her voice or her scent, or both, probably both, must have given him the idea that all was not well because he went to the fridge and got one of the chocolate milks Erica demanded he stock for her non-wolfy time of the month, putting it on her side of the breakfast bar. “Thanks, I appreciate you risking death by PMS to give me chocolate.” After toying with the label for a moment, she opened it, took a drink and replaced the lid while trying to find the words to articulate her pain without poking at the still smouldering embers of his. Eventually, she lifted her eyes to his and just said it. “It’s mom’s anniversary and dad got called into work.” His jaw unclenched, which did magical things to his expression, making him look almost approachable, and he stepped towards her.
“I’ll say it again. What. Do. You. Want.” Stiles was sure Derek had never directed his I’m-trying-to-be-stoic-but-i-will-give-you-whatever-you-ask-for-to-make-your-current-emotion-stop face at her, mostly it was aimed at Lydia and Allison, because he wasn’t an idiot, and Isaac because everyone had periodic Isaac feels. As much as the pack maligned him for being a grumpy stick-in-the-mud with absolute zero sense of humour, Derek wasn’t an utter fail as alpha, in that his intentions were awesome even if the outcome left something to be desired sometimes.
“Will you watch Lord of The Rings with me? I just want to be quiet and sad but distracting my brain with something so I don’t get super sad and also not alone.” When she realised he hadn’t done more than raise his eyebrows at her movie choice she started chewing on her bottom lip. Derek sighed, more for effect than anything else, and jerked his head towards the sofa.
“Go set it up.”
“About that…it’s kind of a long film and I forgot the extension cord.”
“I’m not rearranging furniture. Use the outlet by the bed.”
“You want me in your bed for at least three hours?” She watched with a small smile as Derek’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. “Couldn’t not, I’m me…even today.”
“Just go.” He shook his head at her, at himself and at the prospect of what would probably be a long, if not exactly wasted, few hours and followed with two bottles of water. She’d balanced her computer on the second and third films and tipped a couple of pounds of candy on to his bed. He was having a sleepover in the middle of the day; there was no getting away from it. “Move over.”
“Now you want me against the wall, kinky.” Derek was reminded of the Oscar Wilde quote about the gutter, Stiles wasn’t looking up at the stars, she was merrily playing in the filth, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed anymore, repeated exposure had probably increased his tolerance.
“It’s not kinky, it’s strategic.”
“Aww shucks, you do care.”
“Put the film on or I’m going to smother you with a pillow.”
“Gimme a sec.” He dodged an airborne sneaker and waited while she rearranged and fluffed his pillows, making herself comfortable and getting her scent all over the one part of the loft that had previously smelled solely of him. “Okay, done. Your turn.” Half expecting a joke about turning around three times before settling, Derek sat on the bed at what he thought was a reasonable distance from her, judging by the way her eyes flitted from the screen to him, she disagreed. Without so much as a ‘’scuse me’ she leaned over to approximate his view of the dvd menu. “Nope.” She shuffled closer, laptop now balanced on her thighs, and pressed play. “Don’t look at me in that tone of eyebrow, broody britches, I’d have to have kissed someone to get cooties, besides which, you’re immune.”
They watched the prologue and birthday preparations in companionable silence but when it got to the party Derek found himself talking over the action, something that bugged him in other people, especially if he’d never seen the movie before.
“You and Scott are Merry and Pippin.”
“And Frodo and Sam. We eat almost constantly and we should never be separated for longer than, like, a day. You’re Aragorn b-t-dubs. You haven’t finished your arc yet but you’ll get there, I have faith in you.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Hmm, probably for the best.” There was a familiar smell when Aragorn came onscreen, and again when Arwen and Legolas were introduced, not that it was close to being as obnoxiously present as it had been during the last Marvel Marathon, with her scent today so blanketed with sadness. However she obfuscated with banter, she couldn’t hide her mood from his nose. Understanding but still not having the words, he subtly adjusted his position, leaving their arms touching. She moved a bit, leaned towards him ever so slightly but didn’t otherwise acknowledge him until the end of the movie to ask him if he was good for round two. He rolled his eyes and went to the bathroom while she changed the disc again only to return to find her beginning the descent to horizontal. At the rate she was going, she’d fall asleep when her sugar high ended, epic quest or no epic quest. She proved him right before they were halfway into The Two Towers. Moving slowly so as not to jostle her, he put the laptop on the floor and picked up a book, when she rested her head on his chest he had to concede that he’d been trapped in worse situations.
Halfway through Usurpers, Derek smelled saline again and looked down. He’d ignored the tears after Gandalf and Boromir died, but he couldn’t ignore the ones that rolled down her cheeks while she slept, the fingers that twisted themselves into his shirt and the intensifying scent of grief, thick and previously unfamiliar on her. Stiles’ breath hitched and was that, yes, that was a sob. While he’d ignore his own pain almost up to the point of it getting someone killed, he wasn’t dick enough to pretend she wasn’t crying into his chest so he could carry on reading Ayala. After putting his book on top of the laptop, he wrapped an arm around her, what, there was nowhere else to put it, and gently shook her awake.
“Stiles, Stiles, you’re dreaming.” Her eyes fluttered open, releasing a few fresh tears.
“Wha-oh, oh crap.” Once she realised their positions, she scooted away, pink-cheeked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-I’m a sleep-snuggler, ask Scott.”
“I don’t have to.” The flush deepened.
“Right. I’ll just-”
“It’s fine. Stiles, it’s fine.” The ‘if it makes you feel better’ was unspoken but still somehow there, like he was suddenly somehow okay with cuddling if she needed it. She’d have made a possession joke but nobody found them funny anymore, her least of all. She burrowed back down into her previous position, finding the warm patch her face had made on his shirt, the one with the saltwater lake in the middle.
“You’re really nice, not like friend-zoned ‘nice guy’ nice, like…good, decent. Not enough people see that.”
“I’m not giving you money, or the Camaro.” The growl she got for swatting his abs was just for show, she was ninety-nine point a lot more nines percent sure.
“Learn to take a compliment, you ass.”
“I’ll put it on my list of things to do. Want to talk about it?” Being the taciturn, conceal-don’t-feel kind of guy that he was made that offer the nicest thing Derek had ever done for her, life-saving stuff aside.
“Just dreaming about how it happened. She wasn’t herself near the end, she didn’t recognise me anymore and I was the only person with her when she went, Dad was attending the Tate car crash. I think it would be easier to be on my own on the anniversary if I hadn’t been alone then.”
“Makes sense.”
“Sometimes I wonder what she’d think about the kind of life I live, being part of the weird two-pack thing we have going on, fighting evil, learning magic…I know dad would throw a party if I ever walked away from it, not that I would. I don’t know if she’d think-”
“She’d be proud, just like the Sheriff is.”
“Maybe. For the record, I think your mom would be proud of you too.” Suddenly, she was cuddling a marble statue. “Did I overstep? I’m sorry.” Stiles was almost able to feel the effort Derek put in to making himself relax again.
“No, I...I’m glad you think so. She’d have liked you.” Stiles craned her neck to look at him, she never knew when he was joking because of his resting poker face.
“Really?”
“Yeah. She had a snarky brother, a snarky husband and a snarky teenage daughter all under the same roof. At the very least she’d have been prepared.”
“Did your dad or Laura go off on tangents about the history of male circumcision though?” Derek wasn’t going to ask. Being born a werewolf made the issue irrelevant to him and he didn’t want to fall down the rabbit hole that was Stiles’ brain.
“Not that I remember, neither did Peter.”
“I don’t put anything past your uncle, no offence.”
“None taken, it’s the most sensible thing you’ve ever said.” She poked him in the ribs because reasons.
“I think your mom had a snarky son too.”
“It’s possible.” There was a smile hiding in his voice, it was in the Olympic hide-and-seek team but Stiles wasn’t fooled. I Fought the Law started coming from her bag.
“That’s dad’s extension at the station. Lemme up.” Derek’s entire left side was cold when she moved to climb over him and retrieve her phone. He didn’t try to listen in on the conversation but it was pretty unavoidable even though he was clearing his bed of noisy candy wrappers.
“Hey, dad. You about done?”
“I should be home in half an hour. Want me to pick up a pizza?”
“No, because you’ll order toppings you’re not supposed to have. I’ll pick up pizza on my way home.”
“You went out?”
“I’m at the loft. You might as well be on speaker right now, by the way.”
“Is everything ok?”
“Great, considering what day it is. Derek has been a stand-up stand-in. I got chocolate milk.”
“I’m…glad? I’ve still got a few things to sign here so I’ll get back to it and see you at home.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you too.” They didn’t say goodbye to each other on the anniversary, it was a thing. Stiles tucked her phone into the pocket of her jeans and packed her things into her bag with Derek helicopter Alpha-ing like he was waiting for something.
“Thanks for…whatever this was, if there’s anything you want when it’s…just ask, day/night/middle of chemistry class, I don’t care.” Derek would have been surprised at her telling the truth but she’d never had a chemistry teacher that didn’t make her mutter under her breath about lab accidents. He doubted she’d care about walking out of class even if it was only to do something for him.
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Stiles took that to mean that he’d remember her offer but never take her up on it. swinging her bag on to her back, she started making towards the door. for some reason Derek moved to follow her.
“I’ll walk you out.”
“Okaaay.” Today seemed to be a day for firsts with him, or them so, seeing as it was more than deserved and way overdue, Stiles decided to continue the trend. “I’m really sorry I was ever a dick to you. I mean Scott and I did some stuff that really wasn’t cool.” How lying on his bed and letting her be upset on him warranted this kind of treatment, Derek wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe she was conspicuously nice to everyone on the anniversary and he’d just never been around to benefit. “Although…let’s be real, it’ll probably happen again.” No, wait, there was the Stiles he knew and…knew.
“Just don’t implicate me in any more murders.”
“No promises…although dad wouldn’t believe me if I tried.” Derek wasn’t sure he’d grown on the Sheriff that much, but Stiles must have been, her heartbeat didn’t falter. He opened the door for her, making a note to oil where he felt it catch and she ambushed him with a hug. “Thanks again.”
“It’s what pack does.” When she got far as the lift she paused and turned to look at him.
“What the hell.” She ran over, kissed him on the cheek, and ran back to the lift, throwing a “see you later” over her shoulder.
Derek didn’t close the door, or blink, until after the lift was out of sight. He should have been angry, or perturbed or…something. As it was he was just mildly confused at how they seemed to have gone from zero to, if not sixty, then at least 30 in terms of physical affection in the space of a few hours and vaguely aware that dwelling on why his reaction was more ‘huh’ than ‘what the hell?!’ was not going to lead him anywhere he wanted to go.