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Stiles is doing it again.
And Derek hasn’t been able to stop staring at him, sitting on his couch like he belongs. He does, Derek’s mind tells him like the traitor it is. He’s been trying to keep that part of his brain quiet, but then Stiles enters his loft without knocking because he knows that Derek heard his Jeep three miles down the road. It’s the way Stiles makes himself at home in Derek’s space, the way he throws a Hey Sourwolf at him, the way he goes into the kitchen to get his favorite soda (Derek keeps it stocked just for him), the way Stiles throws himself onto the couch that he picked out for him (seriously Derek, you need a goddamn couch, we can’t have pack nights sitting on the floor) and finally it's the way he tore down Derek’s carefully put up walls and made him feel human again without even realising he did it, that makes it nearly impossible for Derek to ignore the continuous chanting in his mind of mine, mine, mine.
So now, here they are. Stiles in his obliviousness of the way he affects Derek and Derek in love with Stiles. Stiles singing under his breath while he does research and Derek slowly losing his mind over the way his voice reverberates through his space, filling even the coldest corners of the loft with a warmth that finally thaws Derek’s last resolve. He doesn’t know the song that Stiles is singing but he can make out the words. He nearly laughs at the irony of them.
Bring it over to my place
and you be like “baby, who cares?”
but I know you care
bring it over to my place
you don’t know what you did
did to me
your body lightweight speaks to me
I don’t know what you did
did to me
your body lightweight speaks to me
Derek watches in rapt fascination at how Stiles’ mouth moves when he sings, how his beautiful whiskey brown eyes scan the pages in front of him with an intense focus that Derek sometimes wishes would be granted to him. His eyes follow the veins on his arms down to his hands, holding the bestiary that Derek got him for Christmas. Stiles is so lost in his research he hasn’t even noticed how Derek got up from the kitchen table and kneeled down in front of where Stiles is sitting on the couch. To be fair, Derek can’t remember making the conscious decision either. Deep down he knew that this was inevitable, that one day his resolve to stay away from the man in front of him would be worn down by Stiles’ constant persistence to save his life and to make it a little more bearable with each time he shows up unannounced and makes himself at home.
you don’t know what you did
did to me
“Stiles.”
“Mhh?” he mumbles, without taking his attention off the pages.
“Stiles,” Derek says with more urgency than he meant to.
Stiles raises his head and Derek can already see the eyeroll coming, knows that he doesn’t like being interrupted while he does research. Something in Derek’s face and tone must have caught Stiles off guard though, because there’s no eye roll or threats of bodily harm thrown his way.
“Everything okay?” Stiles asks instead, in this low voice that makes Derek’s insides flutter.
Only now, Derek doesn’t know how to continue. He hasn’t thought this through. Like always, his mind supplies and it sounds dangerously close like Stiles. Derek looks up into those wonderful warm eyes and notices how close they’re actually sitting. He watches as Stiles tentatively raises his hand to place it carefully on his neck, his slender fingers finding Derek’s hair. Derek shudders involuntarily as Stiles softly caress his neck with his thumb. He closes his eyes and leans even more into his touch, unconsciously baring his neck to Stiles.
“Derek?” Stiles voice is barely above a whisper, full of wonder and confusion at the same time. He steels himself for a moment longer before he opens his eyes again to see the worry in Stiles’ eyes.
“Derek, what’s going on? Are you dying?” Stiles asks in this jokey voice that’s laced with a little too much concern to be convincing. Derek huffs out a laugh nonetheless, because only he could be so socially inept that wanting to confess his feelings turns into Stiles thinking Derek is dying.
“I love you. And I’m not dying, but not being able to say it was killing me,” Derek finally confesses.
He hears Stiles’ heartbeat quicken and feels a sudden cold where Stiles’ hand was resting on his neck just moments prior. Derek’s hope deflates as he takes in how Stiles moves out of his space, his expression twisted in anger.
“Are you fucking with me? Why would you say something like that? When you know, you must’ve known! I knew you were an asshole, Derek Hale. But I didn’t think you were this cruel,” Stiles all but shouts and Derek is momentarily too shocked to speak in the face of Stiles’ anger directed at him. Stiles lets out an irritated huff at Derek’s apparent apathy and climbs off the couch, stalking towards the exit. No, this is all wrong, how could Derek have fucked this up so badly. He knew the chances of Stiles loving or even liking him back were slim but he never thought Stiles would react like he did. He’s nearly at the door when Derek finally moves to stop him from storming out of the apartment.
“Stiles! Stop! I don’t understand, what do you mean ‘I must’ve known’?” Derek asks, his voice desperate. He made it just in time to slide between Stiles and the door, trying to push down the hurt when he sees how Stiles takes a step back again to create some space.
“Derek, let me go,” Stiles says, his voice trembling with barely concealed rage. Derek shivers, he’s never been on the receiving end of this voice, has only heard it directed at their enemies. Still, he braces himself, because he can’t let Stiles leave like this.
“No, Stiles. Not without an explanation! It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, I just wanted you to know. What’s going on? What did I do?” Derek sees some of the anger leaving Stiles’ eyes, taken over by cautious curiosity. Stiles looks at him with the intense focus Derek wished would be directed at him just moments prior, only now he isn’t sure what to do with it.
“Do you really not know?”
“No, Stiles! Know what?” Derek asks, voice laced with frustration, because this really couldn’t have gone any worse. Stiles watches him a moment a longer, his eyes turning gentle and uncharacteristically shy.
“That I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen.” He takes a hesitant step towards Derek, who tries to make sense of what Stiles just said. Stiles didn’t lie, his heartbeat was steady over the words.
I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen.
How could Derek have gotten this so wrong. How could he have not known. Slowly, carefully, he takes Stiles’ hand in his and pulls him towards his chest, eliminating any space between them.
“Oh.”
Stiles laughs. “Derek, I know you are a man of few words, and I appreciate that, I talk more than enough for the both of us, but I’m gonna need you to say a little bit more than oh.” Derek raises his hand to caress Stiles’ cheek and watches in wonder how his eyelids flutter close, leaning into his touch. He lets his forehead rest against Stiles’, a few hairs tickling his face and he takes in the way Stiles smells like home and safety and comfort.
“Can I just kiss you instead?”
He feels Stiles’ smile more than he sees it and it’s easily the best thing Derek has felt in a really long time. Instead of answering, Stiles simply presses his smile onto his lips and Derek was wrong.
Tasting it is even better.