Work Text:
It’s not so much that Stiles was avoiding coming back to Beacon Hills. He missed his dad, sure, missed the comforts of home, but there was something about seeing everyone again that just made him uneasy. Four years of college and avoidance and spending the summers and other breaks with new friends to experience the world, to keep from having to go back - it was just a lot of excuses to not face the music. And it’s - he feels stupid, he’s twenty two years old, he’s got new friends who are all human and actually appreciate him and don’t threaten to kill him every full moon. He doesn’t feel excluded or weak, hell sometimes he feels downright powerful, because knowledge, man with human knowledge is such a powerful thing. He’s smart and he’s witty and he’s got friends who appreciate that, who think he’s awesome just for who he is, and it’s all the things he never had in high school. College had been good to him, and he had wanted to stick around the city, to be an actual adult on his own. It just would have been nice if the economy had been in on that plan, but no one was hiring, not a kid that just graduated no matter how much potential he showed.
It’s not the moving back home that bothers him. He doesn’t mind living under the same roof as his dad again, if anything he kind of misses it, wants to worry over him in person instead of over the phone. He missed his dad, missed dinners with him and helping him figure out cases and their easy relationship, because they were so much alike. He missed the way the house smells, like him and his dad and the faint whiff he’d get sometimes of his mom when he closes his eyes and can remember her looking down at him with that fond smile on her face. The house will always be home, and his dad will always be the only real family he has, so Stiles doesn’t mind it.
“Missed you, kid.” It’s the first thing his dad says when he finally gets out of the Jeep and walks up the driveway, wrapping him in a tight hug as soon as he’s close enough. And yeah, coming back home is doable; he’ll just avoid all the supernatural and the drama and pretend like he had for the past four years that none of it actually exists.
Stiles knows it’s going to be easier said than done.
--
He doesn’t tell anybody he’s back in town. There’s no facebook post, all his friends from college know and it’s easier to just text them than have to get into it with impersonal facebook messages anyway. He keeps a low profile, gets a part time job at the library that’s mostly just reshelving books and setting up the conference rooms when they have movies for the seniors during the day. He reads to the kids on the weekends, and tries not to comment on how dead the place is since the internet kind of takes the place of having to spend hours at the library doing research. He likes it though, even if the silence makes him fidget a little, he’s better at keeping his mouth shut, and just finds more books to reshelf, finds more things to organize. He keeps busy, and it’s low profile, and he likes it.
Erica shows up in November. Stiles is reshelving in the kids section, keeping an eye out that no one’s doing anything destructive, that everyone’s just reading quietly, or doing homework. He feels like a babysitter, but it’s not like he minds it, if the kids are here, they’re not getting in trouble, and really he’s just looking out for the youth of Beacon Hills. He’s on the floor sorting the Harry Potter books when he hears her voice, feels her gaze burning into his skin, hot and making him itch.
“Stiles?” She still sounds the same, but when he looks up at her, he sees someone completely different than when he left. Gone is the vampy look, the high heels and the mini skirts and the leopard print, instead she’s just in jeans and a soft looking red sweater hugging her curves, flats on to help balance the little girl she’s got in her arms. And he knows he’s changed, that he looks completely different too, but it’s all such a shock, but especially the toddler she’s holding, the darker skinned little girl that turns to look at him. She’s adorable and Stiles melts a little, forgets to be nervous and anxious like he’d been feeling about possibly reuniting with the pack, because this little girl is all the best parts of Boyd and Erica and Stiles might be a little in love. He gets up slowly, doesn’t want to scare either of the girls, just offers Erica the biggest smile he can and lifts his head up to show her his throat, submitting before he approaches. Erica smiles easily and lets him approach; nuzzling her face into her daughter’s hair as if to tell her it was all right. The girl has a bright smile and Erica’s eyes and she’s sucking on her fingers while watching Stiles quizzically, because he can tell she’s observant and he’s something she’s never seen before.
“Hi, my name is Stiles. I used to be a friend of your mommy’s.” He holds out his hand to her, keeps his voice light like he does when he’s reading to the kids and he watches the little girl’s shy smile, sees she’s all Boyd there. “What’s your name?”
“Emily.” Her voice is quiet and sweet and she reaches out her little hand to engulf Stiles’ index finger, and he doesn’t even mind the baby spit because she is probably the most perfect thing he’s ever seen.
“That’s a cute name for a cute little girl.” And she giggles and turns her head into Erica’s shoulder and Erica just beams at him, because she has every right to be a proud mama.
“Em, go find a seat for story time, I’m gonna stay and talk to Stiles, okay?” Erica’s voice is like honey with her daughter and Emily nods as she’s set down, runs towards the little playroom the library has set up for story time with the kids. It’s full of toddlers playing with the toys they’ve accumulated over the years and the older woman in charge of story time for the afternoon. Stiles moves to one of the empty tables and pulls up a chair, knowing Erica will follow. It feels a little like high school, but they both smile easier, because nothing breaks the ice like an adorable baby.
“So, a kid huh? How old is she, I can’t believe it.” Stiles breaks their silence first, because he’s Stiles and even though he’s developed a filter, he has this habit of speaking through awkward silences.
“She’ll be three in January. It’s crazy, I can remember having her like it was yesterday and she’s already so... big.” Erica laughs, but there’s wistfulness to it, because he can understand that, that time flies and those little things get lost so easily.
“Is she?” Stiles gestures vaguely to fill in the blank and Erica smirks at him, obviously wanting to make him say it. He missed this a little bit, their easy nonverbal communication of raised eyebrows and gestures, the way she would always finally give in because Stiles has always been way more stubborn than she is.
“We think so. Derek says she’s too young to know, but more than likely, since we are, she will be too. She’s got keen senses so far anyway, but she’s too young to change or explain to us how she’s feeling properly.” Stiles nods and the silence feels awkward again, because there’s just not that many ways to follow up asking someone if their kid is a werewolf. “Scott didn’t say you were back.”
“I didn’t tell Scott.” Stiles shrugs, moving his fingers to scrub through his hair in frustration a little bit. “Sort of didn’t tell anybody? I mean it’s not... it’s probably stupid because it’s been like four years, but we all didn’t leave on the best of terms, you know? So, I figured I’d just keep it low profile and stay out of the way. Which is stupid, because you’re... you know.” He laughed, slumping down in the chair as she laughed at him, earning some glares from the librarian manning the desk. “Stop laughing, you are gonna get me fired and I need this job.”
Erica gets up and pulls Stiles with her by the hand, back to where he was stacking the Harry Potter books. They both sit indian style, Stiles more slumped as he focuses his eyes on the books and lets Erica choose her words.
“I get it, you know? You were only there to help Scott, and when Scott stopped needing your help you felt out of place. Cause like, we weren’t a good pack back then, like at all. Horrible even.” She laughs again, quietly this time, and Stiles can’t help smile, because yeah, they were a shit pack. “We got better.” She digs her finger into his side and he lets out a squeak and swats her hand away before trying to squeeze a rather battered copy of Prisoner of Azkaban between two newer copies.
“You’re gonna tell them all I’m back, right?” It’s a new wave of anxiety coming over him and Stiles knows Erica can sense it on him, finally looks back at her and pleads with her silently not to.
“I have to tell Derek. Well, and Boyd, because you touched Emily, and I can’t make her keep secrets from the pack...” Stiles sighs and hangs his head and Erica reaches over to scratch at the hair on the nape of his neck, and he lets himself enjoy it for a few seconds before lifting his head up.
“It was bound to happen eventually. You just used your baby voodoo on me to do it.”
“Lies and slander, Stilinski, I would never use my baby to do anything.” Stiles believes her, and he thinks, at least he can maybe still count Erica as a friend.
--
Stiles doesn’t exactly expect a reprieve after seeing Erica. He knows she told them all after she and Emily left the library, and after she leaves, he just feels paranoid and on guard. No one visits him at the library though, everything seems quiet and the same and he stops at the supermarket on the way home to pick up dinner for him and his dad for the night. He makes it through unscathed and loads up the Jeep, ready to lock all the doors and windows of the house and just stay in for the night. He hates being reminded that he’s human and he’s weak, and that’s all that’s going to be rubbed in his face if he falls into the same patterns, and he can’t do that again, can’t hate himself every waking moment again.
So of course when he climbs in the driver’s seat, there’s Derek in the passenger side, looking somehow even better than he did four years ago. He’s still all stubble and perfect jaw and shades of gray and black, but there’s some slack in what was once a perpetually tight jaw, like he’s loosened up a little even if he’s tense as hell now. Stiles stares and Derek glares and it finally takes Stiles a second to break the silence.
“Dude, what are you doing in my car? I have frozen stuff, I need to get it home before it melts.”
“How long have you been back?” And it’s sort of like Derek, to ignore social norms and just be demanding and Stiles’ nerves are sort of fried, so he just sits back in the seat, closes his eyes, and waits for everything to blow up in his face.
“A couple months? Since the end of August.” He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know Derek’s got his pissed face on, he’s just radiating the anger.
“And you didn’t bother to tell anyone?”
“You’re werewolves, I’m surprised it took you this long to sniff me out.” Stiles snaps back quickly and opens his eyes, reaching across Derek to open his door. “Just get out of my car, Derek. I don’t want to play this stupid fucking game. I’m an adult and I don’t want to be part of the pack, I don’t want to help you, I don’t want to be friends. Just get out of my car and let me live my fucking life in peace.” He’s breathing hard, but he’s just, he’s so mad and it’s been bubbling inside him for years, all the words he never got to say because once he left he never came back for four long years.
“I’m just protecting my pack, Stiles.” Derek’s calmer, like he gets it maybe, but Stiles is just on the verge of a breakdown, so understanding isn’t really enough to calm him down.
“Yeah, that’s great, but I’m not going to hurt anybody, okay. What am I going to do, sarcasm them to death?” Derek shrugs and finally slides out of the car and Stiles feels so many emotions burning through him, hot and angry and pumping fast and hard through his veins. “And if you want to repay me for all those times I saved your ass, you can tell your pack to stay the fuck away from me and my dad.” He slams the door shut after Derek, checks his mirrors and pulls out as quickly as possible. Which, it’s not exactly the best storming off ever because Stiles is safe and doesn’t want to hit anybody, but he’s gone, and that’s enough for him.
--
“So I hear Derek put an embargo on you.” Allison Argent looks better than Stiles remembers her. She’s less a girl and more a woman, but she still somehow looks like what a Disney princess would look like if they were real girls. He half expects to see bluebirds floating around her shoulders putting flowers in her hair, but there are none, just a knit hat over her long hair, a blue plaid scarf loose around her neck. She’s still with the shades of black and grey that she had adopted after her mom died, but Stiles kind of understands, her life sort of took a complete 180 and never really got any better. She sets down a coffee in front of Stiles and he takes it eagerly, letting her sit down across from him as he sips at it.
“I sort of asked him to? Didn’t really want to get sucked up running with the high school crowd again.” Stiles shrugs and Allison smiles at him sympathetically, because she gets it, she knows. They were all her friends too, before things changed, before she changed.
“You’re afraid of getting sucked up again, aren’t you?” And it’s not like Allison was ever useless in the group, she’s a warrior, like a gorgeous Amazon with great taste in coffee.
“More like I don’t want to be reminded every day how inadequate I am? They were shit for my self-esteem, and I just don’t want to go back to that. It’s not my life, it’s theirs, I don’t want to deal with all of that again. And like...” Stiles trails off, because the truth is, he doesn’t know how to talk to her about Scott, not with all they went through. “It’s so much easier to hate Isaac than Scott.” He finally laughs out and Allison laughs too, a sad mirthful thing and he knows, even if it’s in different ways.
“I think they needed each other. And we’re better off without them, because we’re not like them. We’re not always going to understand what’s going on with them, and... it sucks.” She laughs again, and Stiles reaches across the table and offers her his hand, lets their fingers wrap together comfortably and squeeze.
“For the record, you were never useless. You were always badass, even when that badass was trying to kill all of them. And if I had been in your shoes, I probably would have done the same thing. Crazy and all.” He smiles at her big and genuine and her smile back is so bright, he understands why Scott was so in love with her.
“You were never useless either, Stiles. Everyone was just shit at showing you that.”
--
Allison told him that at the pack meeting the hunters regularly attended Derek had told the pack that Stiles was back, and that due to Stiles’ request, they were to stay away from him. It was the alpha command apparently, according to Chris Argent who had been at the meeting, so it was to be enforced. Which was of course, why Stiles wasn’t surprised at all when Scott came barging into his house like he owned the place.
“Stiles!” And maybe hoping for excitement was the wrong thing, because Stiles knew that voice, that was Scott’s I’m-fucking-pissed-off voice, which he just really didn’t feel like dealing with. He had a stir-fry to focus on, and cutting up bell peppers was a fucking bitch. He knew Scott would just follow the noise into the kitchen, so he stayed quiet, didn’t bother to look up when Scott came in the room. “You come back and you don’t even tell me! I have to find out from Derek! And then you go out on a date with Allison?!”
And it’s just - it’s so reminiscent of high school Stiles can only roll his eyes, dumping the peppers into the pan and stirring it up to mix with everything else in there.
“It doesn’t matter that I’m back, Scott. We’ve barely talked the last four years anyway; me coming back wasn’t suddenly going to make us best friends again. And for the record, it wasn’t a date. I was there, she was there, we drank coffee and we talked. Not all of us make out with girls our friends like.” And that’s sort of below the belt, but Stiles has a lot of pent up anger he never exactly got out with Scott, and well, this seems sort of like a good of a time as any. He goes back to pushing around the contents of the pan with a spatula, but Scott’s still angry and he’s not coming down at all.
“You could call at least! You could say ‘hey Scott, I’m back let’s go hang out’ or something! You were supposed to be my best friend and you left after college and you barely came home and now you come back and you think you’re better than us!”
And Stiles just lets out a laugh, lowers the heat on the stove and covers the pan, turning around to Scott, brandishing his spatula.
“No, Scott, I don’t think I’m better than you. I just found better friends than you. Friends who appreciated the shit I did for them and didn’t just expect it. Who didn’t ditch me with dying werewolves for family dinners with their girlfriends, who actually answered when I called. Friends who didn’t try to kill me every full moon, or make out with girls I was in love with, or who I had to get beaten up by geriatric psychopaths for. They didn’t replace me or make me feel useless or weak. I’m not better than you, but I found people who were. And I want to find more.” It’s cathartic to get it all out, but the look on Scott’s face breaks Stiles’ heart a little, because it’s like... Stiles doesn’t think Scott fully realized all of that, and maybe it’s his fault for not telling him everything, for opening up a little more. “Look, that was harsh and I’m sorry it came out like that...”
“But you meant it.” Scott finally speaks up quietly, anger subsided. He’s making himself look as small as possible and Stiles sighs, drops the spatula and pulls Scott in for a tight hug.
“We grew up and we grew apart. And I didn’t help things and I’m sorry.” It’s all out now, all the anger and hurt and Stiles feels... not like it’s resolved, but it’s at least not a burden on him anymore. Scott holds onto him tight, but he knows he’s holding back because of his strength and he appreciates that much anyway. “We should hang out again.” He offers into Scott’s shoulder and he feels Scott nod, pats his back a few times to let him know the hug is over.
“Can I bring Isaac?”
Stiles just throws the spatula at him.
--
Stiles is shopping for all the necessary items for Thanksgiving dinner when he sees them. It’s beyond weird to see Derek in a grocery store, walking next to an incredibly attractive brunette pushing a shopping cart. She’s gorgeous, tall and curvy in all the right places, beautiful in the way that it’s like she’s not even trying because she’s just in jeans and a plaid button down and a leather jacket, and she’s so Derek’s type he knows what this is already. It’s just confirmed when she reaches for his hand and smiles warmly before asking him about something on the shelf, and he looks back at her with this fondness that makes Stiles want to throw up. He slips into another aisle and tries to get everything together as fast as he can, because god he doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to have this confirmed to him.
He makes it to the counters before he hears Derek call out his name, wincing before he turns around and tries to seem like he’s not freaking out about this whole thing.
“Derek, hey.” He waves a hand awkwardly and feels roughly all of sixteen again, forcing up a smile at the two of them. “Doing a little grocery shopping?” And he’s immediately asking himself why he asked that, completely embarrassed under Derek’s raised eyebrows and both of their smiles. And ugh, of course her smile is amazing, and she holds out her hand to him.
“You must be Stiles, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Derek and the pack.” And he’s sort of freaking out about that as he shakes her hand, because this is so weird, and they’ve talked about him? “I’m Morgan, Derek’s fiancée.” He finally sees the ring on her other hand, huge and sparkling and Derek’s got this sort of embarrassed but happy smile on his face and Stiles just wants to curl up and die on the spot.
“Wow, seriously, that’s so amazing. Congrats, both of you, that’s great. Wow, that’s so... that’s so great.” Stiles tries to make it sound as genuine as he can, pushing his cart up as the line moves, apologizing profusely to the woman in front of him when he pushes his cart into hers. He can’t load his stuff onto the belt fast enough, but after what feels like forever he’s got everything paid for and back in his cart, waving awkwardly at Derek and Morgan, booking it the hell out of there.
He throws up when he gets home.
--
It’s sort of a weekly thing now, like a support group for people who were too human for a pack of werewolves. Except it’s not really people, just Allison and Stiles sitting in the coffee shop, drinking coffee and eating horribly unhealthy pastries, because they need to talk to another person who gets it.
“How do you deal?” Stiles blurts it out without meaning to, wants to swallow the words back in immediately, but he’s been rolling them over in his head for a half hour of sitting here, since he saw the two of them in the supermarket last week and hasn’t been able to get his heart beating right again since. Allison raises an eyebrow, because she needs him to be more specific, there is a lot of shit in her life that is pretty hard to deal with. “Being... you know, like not being able to be with him and still be so close? Knowing he’s with...” He still doesn’t like saying Isaac’s name, because even if Stiles and Scott are on better terms, he’s not ready to stop being an immature asshole and let go of the grudge he’s been holding against Isaac since they were seventeen. Allison’s face falls a bit, but she shrugs, sips at her coffee in avoidance of answering right away. Stiles is patient though, does the same as he waits.
“It’s like...” she laughs, and it’s that sad laugh he’s sort of gotten used to hearing, because these meetings between the two of them are never actually happy, it’s sort of a nice little pity party they have going on. “It’s like, this war between my brain and my heart. And we try to stay away from each other as much as possible, but it’s like, I can’t leave here, you know? Not with the treaty, and with my dad being all I have left and...” Allison stops for a second to swallow back her tears and Stiles gets it, because they’ve become so similar to one another, she’s not someone he resents for taking away Scott’s attention now, she’s Allison, she’s his friend. “He’s always going to be the first boy I ever loved. And I’m always going to love him in some ways, and it’s always going to hurt. But I just have to make it hurt less, that’s all.” She laughs again, stronger this time, because she’s Allison, and she’s really one of the strongest people he knows. “I’m not a girl that needs a guy to make me feel better about myself. He was just a special guy, that’s all.”
“He still loves you, you know that, right? He gets that it’s complicated and he’s giving you the space you need, but now it’s all complicated and...” Allison reaches across the table and grabs his hand to shut him up, smiling ruefully at Stiles.
“We’re too old to be playing Romeo and Juliet, Stiles. We all know how it ends.”
--
“So are you two...” his dad gestures a little towards the living room where Allison is putting up ornaments on the tree, because she’s actually got a sense of where things belong whereas Stiles and his dad usually just haphazardly put them on and wind up with an uneven tree. Stiles, meanwhile is doing Christmas Eve dinner, which is just a frozen lasagna because really, he’s not that skilled in the kitchen either.
“No, don’t be weird. It’s just her and her dad for Christmas, so I thought like we could band together. Share the holiday spirit amongst friends. Not have so many leftovers.” He grabs four plates from the cabinet and hands them to his dad, pushing his arm a little. “Now set the table, because her dad will be here soon and then we can eat.”
And it’s not the perfect Christmas, but it’s nice. Chris is pretty cool when he’s not trying to kill Stiles’ friends or throwing him into walls, and he and his dad get along pretty well. There’s definitely a bromance brewing when the eggnog comes out, and at the end of the night when he’s sprawled out on the couch with Allison watching the old claymation Santa Claus Is Coming To Town, he feels warm and content, something he hasn’t felt since he came back to Beacon Hills.
--
“If we’re not married by the time we’re thirty five, I’m gonna marry you.” Stiles is drunk, mittens slipping on the chains of the swing set. He kicks his feet out, gaining some air, and he can hear Allison laughing on the swing next to him, stopping only to take a drink from the bottle they snuck out. They really need to be quiet or they’re going to get arrested and his dad is going to kill him, but it’s new years eve and they’re not really doing any harm to anything, they’re just... out. Drinking. On a playground. Stiles doesn’t really care, because this year had been crap anyway, coming home had really been a terrible idea.
“Do you really regret it?” Allison stops swinging and Stiles stops too, realizing too late he said it out loud.
“Yeah.” He doesn’t hesitate, because he means it, wants to leave again so badly. “I love the town, and my dad, and like you, you know, in our way. But I always just feel so...”
“Inadequate.” Allison finishes and Stiles nods.
“Unfinished.” He adds on, and she reaches out a mitten-covered hand for his, and they sway together, passing the bottle of whiskey back and forth until there are fireworks in the air, signaling the new year.
--
It’s Emily’s third birthday party, so of course Stiles goes, and brings her a huge box filled with a variety of stuffed unicorns because unicorns are her favorite and Stiles couldn’t pick just one. It’s at the Hale house, which Derek managed to finish up again and make it look like an actual home, and Stiles tries not to feel sick over it. The whole pack is over, and Stiles tries to find a place again, but it’s not exactly the easiest thing. He’s better with Scott, it feels almost like it did in high school again, but more appreciative on both ends, because they’re adults, because they had to learn to be better with one another. Boyd and Erica are busy trying to make the day perfect, and Morgan’s rushing around with them, and god Stiles wants so much not to like her, but she’s sweet and she’s kind of perfect. There are other moms around, huddled together kind of staring at the boys because they’re all kind of stupidly attractive with their wolfliness, so Stiles hangs out in the living room with a bunch of three year olds, because he’s good at story time, he’s good with kids.
He spends three hours doing a grand tea party, telling three different stories made up off the top of his head, playing tag, and juggling. Once the moms are gone, Erica tackles him to the ground and nuzzles him in thanks, and when she finally lets him up, Boyd just laughs and shakes his hand. Everyone else goes to clean up and Emily clings to Stiles’ neck as they sit on the porch, jackets and hats on to keep warm while he tells her a story about a dragon prince he bases loosely on his own adventures with the pack when he was in high school. Emily deserves a happy ending though, so he makes up the part about the mean wizard falling in love with the dragon prince and she squeals when he tickles her when he finishes. She runs inside and Stiles sits out for a few minutes more, relishing the quiet finally until he realizes he’s not alone.
Derek’s next to him, offering him a bottle of water which he takes gladly, chugging down half of it in one go. They sit in silence for a while, staring off at the woods surrounding the house, until Derek finally stands up.
“Come for a drive with me.” He doesn’t grab a jacket, just takes Stiles’ keys and heads towards the Jeep, Stiles following after him with an indignant “HEY”.
“That was rude, you’re a car thief, you’re stealing my car.” Derek just sort of grins and rolls his eyes when he starts it up, heading away from the property, and probably the real reason, out of the wolves hearing distance. They drive for a while in silence, through town and out of it again, up the cliffside to the point. And it’s ridiculous because this is where people come to hook up, and Stiles just rolls his eyes, pushing Derek’s shoulder lightly. “Oh, I see, you think I’m this easy, well you are so wrong, I need dinner at least first, god...”
“Stiles.” Derek’s got the stern voice now, even with the smile lingering on his lips. It’s fond and heart warming and he hates that he missed this, missed this warmed up Derek that’s healthier and happier than he ever was when Stiles was home. “You’re giving all the signs like you want to talk, so I figured we could do it in private.” And god, Derek wants to talk and Stiles isn’t even sure who’s in the car with him anymore.
“You aren’t the same guy I used to know and it’s weird.” Derek raises his eyebrows and god, that always made him crazy, because they speak volumes more than his mouth does, but Stiles just barrels right on. “And like I know I’m not the same either. I’m not even the same guy I was when I got back it’s just...” He shrugs, laughing with the frustration bubbling up in him, turning his head away from Derek to lean his temple on the window. “This is a bad idea, I think you should take me home.”
“Scott’s worried about you, he asked me to talk to you.” And it’s just... it’s frustration bubbling over again, the unhappiness washing over him and Stiles just wants to kick something, so he climbs out of the car instead, because Derek is a dick but at least Stiles knows he’ll get his car home safe. He doesn’t make it that far before Derek is caught up to him, grabbing him by the arm. Stiles shrugs him off and keeps walking, sticks his hands in his pockets and trudges on because fuck him, fuck Scott, fuck all of them. “Stiles!” Derek yells out and Stiles has just had it, can’t do this anymore.
“What the fuck do you want from me, Derek? I told you when I came back I didn’t want to be pack, and I was stupid in letting Scott suck me back in again. I don’t want this, I don’t want any of this! I want to be happy, and not feel like shit all the time I’m with you guys! I’m human, I get it. I’m fragile and I can’t do whatever you can do and all I was good at was doing the tedious shit work research and making everybody laugh, but you know what, Derek? Nobody likes research! Nobody wants to be just comic relief! Nobody wants to feel like they’re not good enough all the goddamn time!” And its just Stiles feels like a kid having a tantrum, throat raw and cheeks red, embarrassment and anger running through him. “And you were the worst of them all. Like yeah, you know what when I first met you I was a dick and I’m sorry, but I saved your ass how many times? And not for Scott, and not for me, but for you, Derek, for you.” Stiles closes his eyes tight because this is all fucking horrible and Derek’s not making a sound and he just wants to get out of this town so badly. “I had such a fucking thing for you, and you didn’t trust me to save your life.” He’s quieter now, finally looking up to Derek. “And it frustrates me, it all frustrates me and it makes it hard to be around you all because it’s the same behavior patterns and I don’t want to be that guy again, Derek. And like seeing you with Morgan is the worst because she’s so nice and she makes you happy and you deserve that and I...”
Derek cuts him off with his mouth, holding the back of Stiles head as he kisses him. He kisses him hard and fast and rough and there’s teeth and tongue and Stiles wants this more than anything, wants him, wants to be wanted and told he’s worth it, that he’s always been worth it. They back up to the Jeep and keep kissing because Stiles is all want and Derek is giving him all he has, like he’s wanted this just as long as Stiles has.
“You met me at a very bad time in my life.” Derek mumbles against Stiles’ lips before they climb into the backseat, before Stiles’ jacket is pushed off and Derek’s henley is being pulled over his head. Stiles looses his hat to Derek’s fingers, but he’s deft with Derek’s belt, and even if they’re both way too big for trying to do this in the backseat, they manage, linking limbs and hot mouths.
It’s all made considerably easier by the fact that Stiles always keeps a condom and a small packet of lube in his wallet, because hey, you never know, and before he can even defend that, Derek’s slick finger is fucking up into him, adding another to stretch him out. He feels like a virgin again because he’s sort of had a dry spell since returning to Beacon Hills. Derek stretches him until he assures him he’s ready and Stiles rolls the condom onto him, feeling him up with a groan because god, Derek’s perfect.
It’s quick and dirty, and Stiles’ short nails leave marks on Derek’s skin that heal right away. It’s desperate in the way that it has to be; because once Stiles comes down from the high he knows it was only ever a quick fuck. He kisses Derek one last time before they leave to head back to the house.
“You’re happy, right?” And it’s like Derek knows where this is going, looks scared for the first time in a long time when he looks at Stiles.
“Stiles, don’t...”
“Yes or no, Derek.” He cuts him off, because this isn’t the time for bullshit, and Stiles may not be a wolf, but he knows when Derek’s lying.
“Yes.” Derek looks like he just swallowed a bag of rocks though and Stiles nods, holds his hand out for his keys. Derek hands them back, and Stiles swallows thickly, because this... this is the hardest thing he’s ever done.
“I never want to see you again. I want you to get married to her and keep up your pack and have lots of little kids or puppies, or whatever? I don’t know.” The tears are burning in his eyes but he won’t cry, not yet, can’t do it. “This right here, is between you and me, because we had a lot of years where this needed to happen and didn’t. So, it did, and we’re okay, and you need to get the fuck out of my life forever.” And Stiles smiles, grabs Derek’s hand and squeezes it tightly. “Be happy. You deserve it.”
Stiles lets go of Derek’s hand and climbs out of the car, ignoring the way it hurts from being fucked in the backseat of his car. He looks out the window after he showers and Derek is still there, but by the time his dad gets home, there’s no trace of him.
--
When they get out of the subway station, there’s a dusting of snow on the ground. Stiles adjusts the weight of their bags in his hands while Allison checks the address on her phone, leading the way through the streets of Boston. It’s quiet due to the incoming storm, he thinks, they almost didn’t even make it in to Logan, but luck is with them on this trip anyway. Allison takes her bag back, because he can’t convince her to let him be a gentleman no matter what he does, and if he’s honest, he’s pretty sure she’s stronger than him anyway. The doorman lets them into the building because people don’t say no to Allison, especially not when she looks like a snow goddess in her wool hat and warm jacket and mittens. She tells him they’re here to see the Whittemores and that they’re expected and they head into the elevator, admire the swankiness of the building as they head up to the 8th floor. They’re in 8C, which is the furthest from the elevator and Stiles tries not to roll his eyes, because of course they had to get as far away as they could from the flow of traffic.
When Lydia opens the door, she’s wearing glasses, which means they interrupted her going over her notes for her masters, and she looks ready to chew them out until she sees who it is.
“Jackson!” She’s loud over her shoulder before she’s pulling them both in for a group hug, and Stiles makes sure to drop the bags away from her feet. Stiles feels more than sees Jackson’s arrival in the foyer, another set of arms around them and it feels safe, more like home than Beacon Hills ever did for those five months.
--
Lydia breaks out the wine and the three of them drink, while Jackson goes back to his law textbooks and calls them all lushes. They talk about home and how weird it is now; Lydia tells them about the Boston pack Jackson joined and how they helped them find this place. It’s got a cell in the basement to lock Jackson up if he’s having a bad full moon, and there’s always someone to call to help. It’s organized and Lydia loves it and Stiles can’t help but notice the way Jackson seems way more at ease than he ever did back at home. Lydia asks where they’re staying and when they both sheepishly admit this was sort of a spur of the moment thing, she insists they stay there.
The guest bedroom is nice, but it’s only one bed and Stiles offers to sleep on the couch in the living room, because he doesn’t want it to be weird. Allison tells him no though and he has to admit it’s nice sharing a bed with someone he actually cares about, lets her curl up into him and plays with her hair when she holds him tight.
“I am no one’s second choice, Stiles Stilinski.” She quips finally, a soft laugh and a bright smile and Stiles just grins back at her.
“Neither am I, Allison Argent.” He knows in time they’ll drift off too, Allison will find someone who loves her in all the right ways and Stiles will too maybe, he hopes anyway. He knows that for now he has a friend who loves him as much as she can, and he loves her just as much, and that they’ll never be enough for one another, can’t fix each other in all the right ways. And if this is pack, he understands more now. This little family, Allison and Lydia and Jackson and his dad and maybe even Chris, it’s what he needs to survive.
--
“Do you ever feel like we were all just somewhere we didn’t belong?” Thanksgiving is at Jackson and Lydia’s, with Allison and Chris, and his dad even flying out to Boston for the holiday. They sit around the stupidly fancy table and eat the dinner Stiles and Allison had to try to not ruin in their state of the art kitchen, just enjoying one another’s company. Nobody looks surprised by Stiles’ question; there are just various states of agreement and no commitment to answering. “Like... we did once, you know? But then everything changed and it wasn’t the same anymore.”
“So, we never belonged.” Allison laughs and gestures at her and her father, and Stiles just grins because well, yeah.
“All your fault, Argents, you chased the smart people out of Beacon Hills forever.” He teases her back, and his dad calls out a “hey” around his forkful of pie, because he’s still sheriff and doesn’t want to leave, no matter how much Stiles tells him to come down. He understands, the house is full of his mom and their memories and he can’t leave that behind, because he can’t ever replace her and doesn’t want to forget her.
“So, what are we all thankful for?” Lydia interjects before the conversation gets too serious, refilling everyone’s glasses of wine before taking a sip from hers.
“Friends.” Allison speaks up first, gesturing around the table with her glass.
“Family.” Stiles counters, grinning wide until Allison makes a face at him, countering it with sticking his tongue out at her.
“Pack.” Jackson’s smirking, raising his glass at that one. Chris looks half annoyed and somehow half pleased and Stiles can see the confused look on his face but mouths ‘never mind’ to him as they all raise their glasses, drinking to their own little pack. It’s what they’re all most thankful for after all.