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“Banshees predict death, Scott,” Derek plainly stated as he turned away from Scott. He moved to lean against the table as he let his thoughts wander. “We have to keep this quiet,” he commented. “Lydia promised she wouldn’t say anything.”
“Derek, you have to tell him,” Scott stated as he crossed his arms. “You can’t keep him in the dark, not about this.”
“It’s my choice,” Derek replied.
“He’s not stupid,” Scott remarked. “He’ll find out and be pissed that no one told him. He’ll even help look for—”
“He’ll spend the next days worrying himself with endless research,” Derek snapped as he turned to look at Scott.
“He’s my best friend, Derek,” Scott nearly pleaded.
“And I’ll tell him,” Derek replied.
“Tell who what?” Stiles questioned as he walked into the loft carrying the take out bags.
“Tell your dad that you’ve been spending time here,” Derek lied.
“Funny,” Stiles scrunched his nose at Derek. “If you want to be lectured, go ahead and dig your own grave with that one.”
Derek was grateful Stiles didn’t notice the way Scott grimaced.
For the next week, Derek kept it from Stiles, determined to keep him from worrying. He had to bend the truth when Stiles caught him making a list of things to do. He couldn’t help but smile as Stiles slid down the back of the couch, spreading his legs to practically octopus his limbs around Derek. He loved the warm feeling for Stiles’ body wrapped around him like a cocoon, pulling his fears and uncertainties away from him.
“What are you working on?” Stiles asked as he rested his chin on Derek’s shoulder, peering down at the paper.
“A list,” Derek explained.
“In the middle of the pack having assassins out to get us, you decided to make a list?” Stiles questioned with a fond smile.
“It’s a list of things I’ve never done,” Derek stated, dropping the paper pad and pen onto the coffee table in favor of running his hands along Stiles’ arms.
“Like, things for us to do?” Stiles asked as he curiously leaned forward in an attempt to read Derek’s handwriting.
“If you want,” Derek softly stated. “I’d like that,” he affirmed, turning his head to kiss Stiles. He closed his eyes as he savored the moment—a moment he wanted to freeze time in order to preserve it. He ignored the fluttering of his stomach because of the way Stiles rotated his body to accept Derek’s against him. He chose to ignore his list—reality—in favor of reclining horizontally on the couch, pulling Stiles after him. He could ignore it as long as he had Stiles in his arms, his lips warm and soft, grounding Derek better than any other anchor ever could.
~*~
Stiles agreed to all of the items on Derek’s list. He was annoyed when Derek wouldn’t let him see the list, telling him that the last thing would spoil it all. He was suspicious at first before accepting that it was just Derek being Derek.
Stiles was looking at the back of one of the books that caught his interest, focusing on the different rare titles he was finding. It was one of the weekends Stiles managed to clear his schedule in order to go out with Derek. He thought he was crazy for saying they drive into L.A., but he didn’t argue when Derek said it had to do with his list. He merely rolled his eyes and agreed with a small but fond smile gracing his lips. He loved having an odd boyfriend, and didn’t want to do anything other than give Derek what he wanted—what he deserved.
They had checked into the hotel Derek rented without warning Stiles, completely surprising him when they stopped in valet parking. Derek refused to tell Stiles how much money he planned on spending; telling him that he finally had a reason to spend all the insurance money. Stiles made sure that he slipped his hand into Derek’s, pulling him into his embrace the minute they were in the room.
Stiles had gladly tagged along with Derek when he admitted to wanting to look at a series of nationally ranked bookstores. He thought it was cute how much Derek loved his books. He had been observing the mythology section for at least an hour, Derek having passed by him several times to check in with him. He was in the middle of reading one chapter when he caught sight of Derek lingering near his section. He noticed the way Derek seemed out of place—as if he was thinking of something completely unrelated to the books surrounding them.
Stiles frowned, placing his books back into their pile as he wandered over to Derek. He gently leaned in against him, sliding his hand into Derek’s as he offered him a smile. “You ready to go?” He gently asked, leaning against Derek’s chest as he tried to get as close as possible.
Whenever Derek wore a perplexed look, he always pulled Stiles close, often times scenting him or just making sure his was tucked under his arm. Stiles knew that today wasn’t any different when Derek wrapped his arm around his back.
“Are you?” Derek asked, looking down to see that Stiles didn’t have any books.
“Nothing of interest here,” Stiles stated as he spun out from his place against Derek’s chest. He took confident strides as he pulled on Derek’s hand to lead him towards the exit.
Stiles wasn’t surprised when Derek vetoed sex. He had indefinitely vetoed sex until Stiles was eighteen, even after the awkward conversation they both were forced to have with the Sheriff when Stiles brought Derek home. A conversation where the Sheriff gave his blessing and noted that he wasn’t concerned about Stiles being underage, because he knew Derek wouldn’t pressure.
Stiles, however, pushed the boundaries every time, and he was glad that Derek caved to giving in to showering together. He didn’t want to leave Derek alone, knowing that something was offsetting him for the past few weeks. He stood partially beneath the spray as he leaned his head back into Derek’s hands. He didn’t bother to suppress his moan as Derek’s fingertips massaged small circles into his skull.
“Magic hands,” Stiles mumbled as Derek’s fingers trails down to his neck, massaging the muscle there.
Derek released a soft snort in response, letting his hands fall from Stiles as he leaned under the spray. He watched as Stiles ran his hands through his hair to rinse out all of the shampoo before turning to face him.
Stiles as he pushed forward, pressing his body against Derek’s as he kissed him.
“Stiles,” Derek partially warned, his arousal spiking at the feel of Stiles’ naked body against him.
“Full body contact doesn’t count,” Stiles smiled when Derek stationed his hands on his hips, prying them apart some.
“Maybe not for you,” Derek answered, softly maneuvering them until Stiles as against the shower wall.
Stiles released a small noise of protest as the freezing tile touched his skin. “Cold,” he partially glared at Derek because he knew that he did it on purpose.
“Good,” Derek answered, placing small kisses along Stiles’ jawline before burying his face in the hollow of his throat. “You need to simmer down.”
“You’re sending me mixed signals,” Stiles protested as he buried his hands in Derek’s wet hair. “Besides, you are so much hotter wet than dry.”
Derek released another snort, partially shaking his head as he continued to suck small lover bites into Stiles’ skin.
“You can’t snort at me for being a mess as you’re sucking on my neck,” Stiles argued, wiggling his hips some as he brushed against Derek’s own growing interest in their activities.
“Someone is along for the ride,” Stiles smiled as he moved to bite Derek’s ear.
“Stiles,” Derek partially groaned.
“I know, I know,” Stiles partially panted as he ran his hand down Derek’s chest, his fingers wrapping around his already erect cock. “No penetrative sex until I’m eighteen. But my hands and mouth on you aren’t penetrative,” he wickedly smiled at his own explanation as he placed another kiss on Derek’s lips.
~*~
Stiles was asleep in the bed, his naked legs and hips precariously wrapped in the white hotel sheets. He hugged his pillow, burying his face into the plush material as he lost whatever dream was playing out for him. He blinked several times, forcing himself to wake up when he realized Derek wasn’t in bed with him. He turned his head to see if he was being a stupid gentleman and sleeping in the armchair. He was content to find that he was not.
There wasn’t much reserved action left to be taken between them, not after Stiles blew Derek in the shower, followed by Derek reciprocating by laying Stiles’ still partially damp body out across the bed as he rimmed the hell out of him. Stiles swore he saw heaven when he finally came, his eyes watering from the pure ecstasy Derek’s mouth gave him as tremors ran through his limbs in the aftermath.
Stiles sat up, pulling the sheet along with him as he didn’t bother to detangle himself. He pulled the sheet along with him as he walked towards the balcony, catching sight of Derek sitting in the chair just outside the door. He ignored the dread that swept over him when he realized Derek was brooding as he reflected on whatever was bothering him.
Derek barely brooded when he knew Stile could catch him, and Stiles knew he hid it more often than not now that they were together. But the fact that Derek wasn’t hiding it now made Stiles’ skin crawl with worry.
Stiles didn’t say anything as he stepped out onto the balcony, slowly slipping his way into Derek’s lap. He was happy when Derek smiled, his arms already knowingly moved to make room for Stiles. He snuggled back into Derek, comforted when he wrapped his arms around him before pressing his nose to the base of his neck.
“What are you doing out here?” Stiles finally asked.
“Thinking,” Derek answered, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against Stiles’ shoulder.
“You’re starting to worry me about that,” Stiles replied, entangling his fingers with Derek’s.
“It’s—”
“Don’t you dare say it’s nothing,” Stiles countered. “You’ve been saying that none stop for the past few weeks, and it’s starting to freak me out.” He leaned forward out of Derek’s embrace, turning to face him. He rested his hands on the chair’s armrests as he leaned over Derek. “Stop lying to me. Even if I wasn’t your boyfriend I would still be your pack. You’re supposed to tell me things.”
Derek turned his head to look out over the city’s skyline, taking a deep breath before he moved to force both of them to stand.
Stiles was a little uncertain as he stood, allowing Derek to release him from his hold as he watched him move back into the room. He shyly followed, uncertain what Derek was doing. He hunched the sheet up over his shoulder as he made a makeshift toga out of the material. Part of him had wished he put on a pair of pants, similar to Derek, for the looming conversation they were about to have.
Derek opened his duffle bag, pulling a piece of paper out of an inside pocket. He unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the list. Everything had been crossed off except for the final thing. He looked up at Stiles, wishing he didn’t have to tell him.
“This list … There’s a reason I wanted to do all of these things at least once,” Derek started.
Stiles’ eyes flickered between the paper and Derek’s face. Fear began to curl up in his stomach, making him want to hide. His chest constricted, certain he was about to have a panic attack. “Are you … breaking up with me?” His voice was weak and hurt as he spoke.
Derek’s eyes widened slightly before he released a heavy breath. “No, God, no,” he exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face as he thought about how stupid he had been handling everything. He looked down at the paper in his hand. “This was stupid,” he says to himself.
Stiles looked at the paper, finally having enough courage to move forward and slip the paper out of Derek’s hand. He was glad Derek didn’t fight him, giving the paper over to him. His eyes scanned the list, able to read the things Derek had crossed off that they did already.
There were two things left on the list.
The first read: ‘The Last Book Store—L.A.’
They had done that today—technically yesterday.
The very last one read: ‘Kiss Stiles one last time’
Stiles stared at the last line, his features twisting into a perplexed frown. He approved of the first part, but the last part made his insides tighten in a sickening way. He looked up at Derek, eyes searching for a meaning. “One last time,” he firmly stated, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes looked back at the paper. “Why ‘one last time’?” He knew he sounded demanding, but he didn’t care—he had to know.
“That’s the last thing I want to do before I die,” Derek confessed, his eyes fixed on Stiles.
Stiles’ body tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention as Derek’s words washed over him. He slowly looked up at Derek, his eyes narrow and calculating as they guarded the fear and worry overwhelming him. “Before you—Derek we have a while before then,” he stated, hoping that Derek was just being morbidly cautious, opposed to the alternative that Derek actually was dying.
“Not as long as we’d like,” Derek quietly answered.
Stiles shook his head. “No,” he protested. “No, you’re a werewolf. You’ll be fine. You heal, Derek. You fell multiple stories through a condemned mall, and survived. You’ve had a pipe through your chest, and survived. You heal every—”
“I don’t have my powers anymore,” Derek finally admitted, stopping Stiles’ ill thought out argument. “I’m not … I’m human. Fragile and human,” he sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t want to tell you now,” he explained.
“Were you going to tell me at all?” Stiles finally asked, his anger overpowering his fear. He would have spent the time differently with Derek. He would have blown off lacrosse practice. He would have told the pack that he needed Derek to himself. He would have had the break down that was creeping up on him in private, without worrying Derek.
Derek looked up at Stiles, noticing the way his cheeks reddened from the tears gathering in his eyes and the anger in his lungs. He looked at Stiles’ hand when he heard the paper crumple, the list being balled up as Stiles clenched his hand.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Derek confessed, knowing now that it sounded stupid.
Stiles released a bitter scoff, throwing the paper towards the wastebasket in the corner. He ran a hand through his hair as he slightly paced in circles. “So, you just thought that we’d go do all this stuff, and I’d never figure it out? That I’d just accept you acting strange, or that I wouldn’t care that you’re dying?”
“I never thought that, Stiles,” Derek tiredly sighed, resting his head in his hands.
“How?” Stiles finally asked as he turned to face Derek.
“How what?” Derek questioned, keeping his eyes focused on the carpet.
“How are you dying?” Stiles specified.
“I don’t know,” Derek answered, his voice feeling hollow.
“You don’t—” Stiles paused before uttering, “Lydia.”
“She showed up one night and screamed in my face,” Derek explained. “She promised not to tell if I agreed to tell you.”
Stiles took a step forward, gracefully falling to his knees in front of Derek. He placed his hands on Derek’s thighs, prompting him to look at him. “I’m still pissed at you for not telling me,” he quietly started. “And after this is all over and done with, you and I have to have a conversation about the importance of communication in relationships.”
“Stiles—”
“No,” Stiles argued, moving his hands to cup Derek’s face. “I’m not letting this happen. I’m not going to roll over and let some stupid supernatural force take you away from me. And after I bash Kate’s face in with my baseball bat, and figure out how to get your wolfie powers back, you’re going to owe me,” he stated with a soft smile when Derek managed a weak laugh. “The only person who can take you away from me is you. And I don’t think you want to leave me behind.”
“I came back for you,” Derek admitted, his hands moving to grip the sheet tangled around Stiles’ body, pulling him in close as he moved his legs apart to better house Stiles’ waist.
Stiles shuffled his body forward, pressing into Derek. “We’ll figure it out,” he stated, his lips practically ghosting over Derek’s. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he added as he pressed his lips against Derek’s, his hands shifting to push up through Derek’s hair.
~*~
Stiles had spent countless days and hours on researching all possibilities for born werewolves to lose their powers. Peter was no help as he ignored all of Stiles’ phone calls. Lydia helped translate the passages Stiles couldn’t—whoever thought archaic Latin was a suitable form of transcript was insane or an asshole, or more likely an insane asshole. Kira spoke with her mom and started to sift through her contacts and connections for anything.
Regardless of all the dead ends Stiles hit, he constantly found another path to go down. He wasn’t going to let Lydia’s banshee powers of prediction murder Derek. Where there was a will, there was always a way.
At least, that was what Stiles thought.
~*~
Stiles and Derek fought when they mounted their rescue mission to La Iglesia in order to save Scott. Stiles finally crumbled, snapping at Peter when he realized that he was also coming on their apparent suicide mission. The van ride did nothing to help his nerves, especially when Liam almost mauled Derek and him to death. He had instinctively moved to get between Derek and Liam, knowing that he would never forgive Liam if he was the one that killed Derek.
When the van finally lurched to a pause, Stiles looked at Derek, catching his attention. Derek looked at the van’s door, leaning forward to look back ways in order to check if the coast was clear. He climbed over Stiles as he opened the door. He was caught off guard when a berserker appeared out of thin air, tightly grasping his jacket as it yanked him out of the van.
“Derek!” Stiles yelled as he scrambled to follow after him. He tripped over his feet, cursing his gracelessness as he practically tumbled out of the van. He heard the gunshots before he saw Derek leaning against the rock, panting heavily. His feet sprung back into action the moment Braeden’s gun silenced. He ran forward to Derek, sliding onto his knees as he halted next to him. He looked down at Derek’s chest to inspect it when he noticed he winced in pain from trying to move.
Even in just the moonlight, Stiles could see the blood. His lungs burned as his mind raced with an idea of what to do.
“How bad is it?” Peter questioned in concern.
“I’m fine! I’m fine! Just get to Scott!” Derek quickly uttered, struggling against the pain. “Just find him. We’ll be right behind you. Go. Go!”
Peter hesitated before he finally turned to run off into the church. Malia hesitated as she looked at Liam before running after Peter. Liam followed after her.
“Stiles,” Derek started, reaching his hand out to stop Stiles from touching his chest.
“I’m not going,” Stiles almost snapped as he looked up at Derek.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Derek lied.
“I’m not a werewolf and even I know you’re lying,” Stiles bitterly stated. He looked up at Braeden who lingered next to Derek. “Do you have a first aid kit, something? If we put pressure—”
“Stiles!” Derek snapped, stopping Stiles’ rambling. “It went right through my chest,” he finally admitted. “There’s nothing you can do for me,” he added. “Go and save Scott.”
Stiles stubbornly shook his head. “Fuck you,” he gruffly uttered as he looked up at Derek. “I’m not leaving.”
“I don’t want you to,” Derek admitted, swallowing down a cough that bubbled its way up. “But the truth is, if you don’t go in there, Scott will die.”
“And if I don’t stay—”
“I’m already dead, Stiles,” Derek argued, reaching a hand up to cup his face, turning him to look at him. “But you can’t lose Scott, too.”
“Derek, don’t you dare make me choose. Because I can’t—I won’t,” Stiles stated as his tears burned his eyes.
“I’m not making you,” Derek quietly explained. “I’m telling you to go.”
Stiles looked up at Derek in disbelief. His stomach churned and his heart hurt as he thought about never seeing Derek again after this. He thought that maybe it would have been better if Derek left Beacon Hills when he had the chance and never came back. At least he’d be with Cora; he’d be alive.
“I love you,” Derek uttered, grabbing Stiles’ immediate attention. “I fell in love with you a long time ago,” he explained as his thumb brushed away the tears rolling down Stiles’ cheeks. “I don’t regret this—us.”
Stiles leaned forward, presses his lips against Derek’s, He tightened his hold on Derek’s jacket as he opened his mouth, ignoring the bitter metallic taste of blood that reminded him this was the last time he was going to kiss Derek. He was going to make it a good one.
When they parted, Stiles pressed his forehead against Derek’s, his eyes tightly shut as he tried to block out reality. “I’m coming back,” he firmly stated against Derek’s lips, finally pulling back to look at him.
“I’ll be right here,” Derek replied.
Stiles looked at Braeden who gave him an affirming nod—a guarantee that she wasn’t going to leave Derek alone. He let his hands fall from Derek, slipping out of his grasp as he turned to run for the church. He wanted to pause and look back, but he knew he wouldn’t keep going if he did. He knew that Derek didn’t want him to look back.
~*~
Stiles hugged Scott as quickly as possible before he turned and ran as fast as he could towards the exit. He barely made the turns, running and bouncing off of the walls whenever a turn was sharper than he expected. He heard his friends yelling his name and asking him where he was going. He had to make it to Derek; he had to make it back in time. He stumbled outside, surprised by the gunfire that was happening. Argent must have showed up with the back-up he promised.
Stiles careful watched his surroundings as he ran back towards the van and the rock where Derek was. He halted his steps when he came upon the rock, only to have the spot be empty. He was surprised when a strong force pulled him out of the way of a haze of bullets. He noticed it was Braeden.
“Where’s Derek?” Stiles asked as he leaned against the van.
“I don’t know!” Braeden replied as she reloaded her weapon. “I got distracted by Kate. One moment he was laying there and then the next, he was gone.”
Kate.
Stiles dashed over to the van’s door, diving in and grabbing his discarded baseball bat. He was never happier that he had Lydia help him infuse mountain ash into the wood as he grasped the grip, sliding out of the van. He dashed out of Braeden’s reach, determined to put an end to everything that was Kate Argent.
Stiles didn’t get his chance to say goodbye, not completely. He had to tell Derek he loved him. He had to let him know that there was so much he wanted to do with him. He had to tell him that he’d take care of everything, even when it felt like his heart was shattered into a million pieces just from the thought of it.
Even if Derek was dead—which Stiles refused to believe until he saw his body—Kate wouldn’t have his body. Stiles was taking Derek home to be buried next to his sister, and he had a mountain ash infused baseball bat to back him up.
Stiles wasn’t sure what came over him, but he knew the adrenaline pumping through his veins was enough to spur him into running and tackling an unaware Kate Argent. They both tumbled onto the ground, Stiles rolling away from her as he hurried to stand.
Kate turned to look at him, her look of surprise changing into a look of delight when she realized who it was. “Little Red came out to play now that the hunter took care of the wolf?” She taunted as she stood, dusting her jacket off.
“Where is he?” Stiles demanded, his hold on his bat tightening.
“Where you left him,” Kate snapped. “I will say, I’m glad I got to see him finally dead. As much fun as he gave me, he was more—”
Stiles didn’t let her finish as he swung the bat, catching her off guard as he connected the wood with her head. The repelling force of the mountain ash hitting Kate’s body forced the bat backwards, almost causing Stiles to lose his balance. As extreme as the reaction was, there was a slight twinge of joy Stiles got from finally being able to hit Kate.
“You little shit!” Kate swore as she held the side of her head, steadying herself.
“Derek gave you nothing! You took everything from him!” Stiles snapped as he reared up to hit her again. He swung once more, not at all surprised that Kate was expecting it now, easily dashing out of the way.
“I can’t believe out of all of them, you were the one to get the nerve to hit a woman,” Kate countered.
Stiles laughed in contempt. “You’re not a woman—you’re not even human. You’re evil incarnate.”
“You really fell in love with him,” Kate almost sneered. “Of course he’d go for you.” A wicked smile twisted her lips around. “The boy who stayed—the boy who chose to run with wolves. You’re just as broken as he was.”
“He’s not broken!” Stiles snapped. “You caused unbelievable damage, but you didn’t break him.” He tried swinging at her again, this time losing the grip on his bat as she reached out to hit it away from her. The bat flung out of Stiles’ hands, flying out to settle underneath one of the vehicles.
“What now, Bambi?” Kate angrily snapped at him.
Stiles’ fist balled up, prepared to fight Kate with his bare hands if he had to. He ignored her laugh as he waited.
A howl broke through the night.
Stiles was surprised when Kate worriedly looked around them in an attempt to locate the source. He turned to follow Kate’s eye line, looking up at a black wolf standing on the rubble above. He dared to let himself hope that it was Derek when he caught the blue shine flicker across the wolf’s eyes as it moved to stand beside Stiles.
“Derek,” Stiles quietly called his name.
The wolf kept its eyes on Kate as it growled, baring its teeth at her. It lunged at Kate, its teeth snapping at Kate before its jaws fastened down around Kate’s arm. It wrestled her down to the ground, weakening her until she was crawling away.
Stiles released a laugh of relief, a soft sob catching in his throat when he realized it was Derek when the wolf started to slowly transform into a naked human form. He made an abortive move to reach out and touch him, just to make sure he was real. It was Derek standing between Stiles and Kate.
“You … you were dead,” Kate stated in disbelief.
“No,” Derek shook his head, a satisfied smile covering his lips. “I was evolving. Something you’ll never do.”
Kate look scared, turning her eyes towards the berserker in hopes it could overpower Derek. She started to scramble backwards when Derek turned his attentions towards the berserker.
Stiles ran and slid partially underneath the car, grasping the bat as he made his way around the back. He ran until he practically ran face first into Kate, swinging out his bat on reacting instincts alone. He connected the bat with Kate’s abdomen, causing her to stumble backwards, where she landed at a weary Chris’ feet. He nodded to Chris when he realized that he had it from there, turning and running back to Derek.
Stiles caught sight of Derek slipping into a pair of pants Stiles had brought in the spare clothes for Scott. He didn’t wait to say anything or to even give Derek a warning. He ran as fast as he could, dropping his baseball bat to the ground as his hug practically tackled Derek off balance and caused him to waver on his feet. He tightened his grip on Derek, refusing to let go for even a second in fear that he would disappear.
“Stiles,” Derek started, remaining still as he let Stiles press his face into his neck. “If you let go, I can turn around and face you.”
“I can’t believe you told me to go to Scott,” Stiles angry stated as he released Derek, his joy at Derek breathing still being overshadowed. “I can’t believe you told me you loved me because you thought you were dying. I can’t—”
Derek reached his hand out to cover Stiles’ mouth. “Can I explain?”
Stiles rolled his eyes, nodding his head against Derek’s hand.
“I shouldn’t have said that to you, I know,” Derek started. “But it wasn’t because I was dying. I wasn’t lying when I said that I knew I loved you a while ago—I just didn’t want to risk never being able to tell you that. I wanted you to know that I loved you, but I didn’t think about how that could hurt you in the long run.”
Stiles tried to talk against Derek’s hand, dashing his tongue out to lick Derek’s palm. He suppressed his smile when Derek’s nose scrunched up, pulling his hand back to wipe Stiles’ saliva on his jeans. “You’re sorry for saying it because you think that I’d be screwed up if you had actually died? I’m not mad because you said you loved me, Derek. I’m mad because I wanted to say it but … I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be that cliché last moment. Because I didn’t know if you’d know I meant it—that I wasn’t just saying it because you had.”
“I know you love me,” Derek answered.
“I’ve done nothing to prove it,” Stiles stubbornly argued.
“I’m not some damsel in distress princess that needs you to prove it, Stiles,” Derek deadpanned.
“I know, I just … I just wanted to make sure you know,” Stiles replied. “I want you to know that you’re special to me.”
Derek’s eyes flicked over to where Chris and the Calaveras were moving Kate towards the van for processing. He looked back at Stiles. “I know all that,” he finally stated. “You actually hit Kate in the face with a baseball bat, Stiles. No one’s ever defended me against the demons of my past—even against my own self-inflicted guilt—before. But Kate … she embodies all of that, and you …” he released an surprisingly amused laugh. “And you just went after her with a baseball bat.”
Stiles smiled as he ducked his chin. “Well, you know,” he partially mumbled. “She fucked with my man,” he finally looked up at Derek. “Nobody fucks with you and gets away with it.”
Derek’s soft smile grew out of amusement.
“That was terrible, wasn’t it?” Stiles asked as he looked around to see who heard him. He ignored the fact that Braeden was laughing as she pretended to be inspecting her guns. “I went horribly cliché and—”
“And it kind of works,” Derek added, pulling Stiles in close for a kiss.
“I told you I’d beat her up with my baseball bat and get your wolfie powers back,” Stiles stated with a smile as he kissed Derek back.
“My hero,” Derek replied.
(And Stiles still argued that he didn’t swoon when Derek dipped him in order to give him a toe-numbing kiss.)