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Derek saw Stiles and Kian everywhere. Every time he went to the coffee shop, the library, the diner, the movie theatre, the quieter upper floor of the mall, the station. Sometimes he even saw them out in the preserve when he was out running. At first he thought they were following him around – there was no way that it was accidental. But Stiles looked so happy with Kian, and Derek couldn’t take that from him, so he said nothing.
He only realised two months into the, admittedly very odd, routine that maybe Stiles wasn’t following him, but the other way around. He never actually hung out with Stiles anymore, aside from meetings between his pack and Scott’s group, which they spent far from each other on opposite sides of the room. Small fragments of the memories of Stiles and Derek when they used to hang out as friends flashed like the pieces of a puzzle in his head. Like when Stiles dragged him to the coffee shop, loudly proclaiming they had the best snickerdoodles known to man.
The time that he took Derek to his favourite part of the library; a section of books that were rarely used and had gathered so much dust that Scott, pre-werewolf abilities, probably could have died inhaling them.
Or when he woke up Derek in the middle of the night to make him drive to the diner and buy curly fries because “I am craving curly fries right now, Derek”.
Whenever Stiles wanted to see a new movie and Scott went with Kira to see it – Derek couldn’t deal with how disappointed he got and was therefore dragged there with Stiles.
The highest floor in the mall, where not a lot of people went unless they had specific errands to run there and Stiles liked sitting to do his research sometimes because the noise from the lower floors was soothing, but he didn’t want to be in the middle of it because that freaked him out.
Derek understood that he couldn’t really avoid seeing Stiles at the station, seeing as his dad was the sheriff and had been since long before Derek went to the academy to become a deputy. But before he remembered that, he had trouble wrapping around his head that Stiles kept showing up, much like he had before Derek had rejected him, with food boxes and a brilliant smile on his face. Only now he didn’t have food for Derek anymore. Which definitely took some getting used to; he went without lunch a lot of days before he started getting into the routine of bringing his own with him.
The time that Stiles first managed to convince him to start using the trails in the preserve to run, instead of running blind through the forest because he knew he would have to run by the burnt out shell of his former house if he used the already existing trails. Stiles had kept the first anxiety-attack at bay and the more he ran, the easier it got, until eventually he could run there without Stiles (Derek’s training regimen was a little stricter than Stiles sporadic one).
The realisation that all of the places that he usually visited, he only visited because of Stiles, made him rethink the entirety of his existence. Stiles and his habits had managed to become such a fixture in Derek’s life that Derek had overtaken them easily. Now that he knew what he was doing, he desperately searched for something else to fill up the empty space in his day.
He found another coffee shop; they didn’t have snickerdoodles at all and their coffee was only decent, but it worked. He gave up going to the library in favour of a neat little book store not far from his apartment complex; it was run a by a small lady called Mrs. Kuminsky, whose hair was white as snow and her glasses a little crooked across her nose because she broke it in a skiing accident when she was young. Derek wasn’t sure how old the lady was, and although she loved having him in the store insistently feeding him with homemade cookies and tea every time he stopped by, she scared him enough that he didn’t dare ask her either.
Giving up going to the movie theatre or the diner was easy, because the only reason he went there in the first place was because of Stiles. He was not entirely sure why he had continued going there to watch movies, but he was content with waiting for them to come out on DVD instead. He also started cooking more instead of eating greasy diner food, which surprisingly let him explore a part of him that he thought he lost along with his mother; he remembered helping her out in the kitchen a lot when he was young and it felt like a proper way to honour her.
He switched shifts at the station to make sure he was there as little as possible when the sheriff was, which seemed to work. The days that he had to be there when the sheriff was, he made sure to duck out for lunch and keep his head down while working. He also took to running the same way he did before Stiles; straight through the forest. But now he was not afraid of running past the husk of his home, which was a relief.
In between all of these things he also made a point to spend more time with his betas, Isaac, Erica and Boyd. They were all three confused the first time, but it didn’t take long to fall into a routine; they had a bonding night at least once a week and spent two hours, three afternoons a week, training. He established a tentative contact with Scott, keeping an eye on him and by extension also Allison, Stiles and Lydia. He sent an email to Jackson in England, who refused to acknowledge they ever had anything to do with each other, something that Derek understood.
He made all of these changes and all along he entirely ignored the actual reason he felt propelled into doing them. In fact, the reason (that he wasn’t talking about, so you can stop asking Erica) didn’t show for at least 3 months after Derek already upended his life to create a new one that was all his own. Derek could feel somewhere a little bit deeper in him that something was missing, but he studiously ignored it by reading more books, spending more time at Mrs. Kuminsky’s store and more importantly; he started making plans for tearing down his old pack house and turn it into a memorial, while building a new one a little further away for his new pack. He even started seeing a therapist, recommended by Deaton so he didn’t have to withhold the truth about who and what he was, to try and work through the remaining anger, guilt and grief he still felt about his past.
And slowly, Derek felt a little bit better about himself.
---
“Derek!” a loud voice shocked him out of where he was entirely absorbed in a new book that Mrs. Kuminsky had given to him and forced him to promise he’d read it.
“…yeah?” he called out eventually, and heard footsteps nearing the staircase to the upper floor of his loft where he was lying on the bed. The scent was vaguely familiar and none-threatening and it took him way too long to realise who it belonged to.
“Are you gonna come down here or do I have to come up?” Stiles tone was calm, but Derek could smell the annoyance even from the second floor. He took a deep breath and got off the bed, book in hand as he made his way downstairs. Stiles was pacing in front of the gigantic panel of windows on the back wall in the living room area.
“Stiles.” Derek acknowledged and the young man spun.
“There you are.” Stiles replied, taking in the way Derek looked. There was no product in his hair and he’d let his beard grow out a little, although he kept it neat and trimmed. Stiles looked almost the same, aside from the clothing; he was wearing his usual jeans, but paired with only a plain white t-shirt – no print and definitely no plaid shirt over it.
“Here I am.” Derek said, in lack of any other response.
“So, are we over the ‘can’t be in the same room without imploding’-thing now, or should I come back in another three months?” Stiles asked, the bite in his voice piercing through his attempt at a joke. Derek blinked owlishly, frowning.
“Uh… yeah, sure.” He said eventually, unsure how to answer that question.
“Cool.” Stiles forced a smile, now wandering aimlessly around the apartment, touching his fingertips over the spines of Derek’s books, shuffling through the papers on his desk. “So, what have you been up to?” he asked after a while. Derek was still standing by the staircase, his gaze following Stiles as he moved through the loft.
“Nothing aside from the ordinary…” Derek replied slowly.
“Oh, cool. Great.” Stiles started absently, turning back in Derek’s direction “That’s great, Derek.” Derek’s eyebrows furrowed and he blinked through the following thick of silence, waiting for it to disperse.
“What are you doing here, Stiles?” he asked eventually, when the silence insisted on trying to suffocate the both of them. Stiles averted his gaze towards his feet without an answer. Derek crossed his arms over his chest, waiting him out.
“I just… I don’t know.” Stiles said softly, scuffing his shoe against the floor. “I miss our friendship, Derek.” He admitted eventually and something in Derek released at the same time another part of him clenched tight. He ignored that last part and let a smile curl across his lips.
“That’s all?”
“What do you mean ‘that’s all’?” Stiles gaped at him.
“I mean it like that’s easily fixed, Stiles.” Derek said, taking a seat on his sofa. “We can start now, if you want.” He added, turning on the TV and booting up Netflix to play a random episode of Supernatural that he knew Stiles liked. Stiles stared for a few more moments.
“I want!” he choked out, diving for the couch, spreading his limbs and torpedoing around until he was satisfied with his position against the couch pillows. Derek laughed at him; despite the knowledge he was still with Kian, the view of Stiles on his couch again set something free in his chest. And he had missed the spastic young man.
So Derek let Stiles back in.
---
Letting Stiles back into his life had been easier than Derek expected. He’d surprised even himself when Stiles told him he missed their friendship and he’d just said that they could start fixing it immediately. But it had felt right, in a way a lot of things hadn’t ever since Laura died. The sessions he’d had with his therapist had helped him let go of a lot his aggressions already, and it was easier for him to live in the moment, unlike when he’d just imagined doing it. Derek decided not to change his routine, but instead accommodate Stiles into the life he’d already made.
Sometimes they went to the café that he used to go to with Stiles. Sometimes they hung out in each other’s apartments. And sometimes, they hung out with the others as well. They slowly converged into an actual pack – one time Scott came up to Derek, took his hand without a word and slowly bared his throat. Derek blinked in surprise, but let instinct drive him as he lifted his hand to cradle Scott’s neck and then drag along his throat, scent marking him and accepting the offer for what it was. Scott nodded and then returned to his seat by Allison. Derek saw the flash of a smile and thumbs up that Stiles sent Scott when he thought no one was looking and knew instantly who to thank for Scott’s submission. And so the groups had become one big pack together.
Derek and Stiles never talked about Kian, Stiles previous feelings or the 3-month blip in their friendship where they didn’t talk to each other at all. Derek had admitted to himself early on that he was curious; they had been back to hanging out, snarking and biting at each other in their typical friendly fashion for almost 2 months and Stiles hadn’t mentioned him once, not even in passing. Instead of asking, Derek spent his time focusing on his therapy sessions and being a good friend to not only Stiles, but all of the pack members. He remembered their interests and made an effort to ask them about them as well as talk to them about their days. The only place he never took anyone or talked to anyone about was to the bookstore, simply because he liked thinking of it as his own, even though he knew that Boyd knew exactly where he was when he left the loft to go there.
In fact, it was because he knew that only Boyd was aware of the bookstore that he never expected Stiles to show up there. Especially in the middle of him giggling like a child because Mrs. Kuminsky had adopted a three-legged cat that spent all its time tripping her into chairs and sofas, only to crawl onto her, purring loudly. The presence of Kian in the doorway behind Stiles only added to the effect and Derek sobered up immediately, a distantly familiar, yet oddly uncomfortable blankness falling over his face. Stiles stared wide-eyed at him, blinking in surprise.
“Uh, Stiles, honey?” Kian pleaded from behind him, shocked him into movement. Stiles whipped around to stare at his boyfriend. “It’s still raining… think you want to let me in too?” he asked, smiling crookedly.
“Oh, uh, right. Sorry.” Stiles fumbled backwards a few steps to let Kian inside. Kian shook water out of his hair before looking up and spotting Derek by the counter, Mrs. Kuminsky standing behind it, the cat purring on top of a pile of books behind her.
“Hi Derek!” he greeted pleasantly, waving at Derek who only nodded in acknowledgement. He’d met Kian a few times before the weird fallout of his and Stiles friendship, but hadn’t seen him since they’d started hanging out again.
“I didn’t know you’d be here.” Stiles said, voice wavering uncertainly even though there was a smile plastered on his face. Derek forced a smile that felt unnatural to him, even if he knew he’d smiled a lot more lately.
“Yeah, well… I was just leaving!” he said, turning slightly to grab the jack he’d tossed over the back of one of the armchairs. He tossed a smile to Mrs. Kuminsky who glared at him muttering something under her breath about the never-ending changes in the behaviour of youths. “I’ll see you later Mrs. K!” before nearly running past Stiles and Kian towards the door “Bye guys!” and then he’d been running towards his apartment in the pouring rain.
Seeing Stiles and Kian together, even after so long since the last time, made it feel like something had stabbed at his chest. He thought he’d gotten over it. He had acquainted himself with the thought of never being with Stiles and only being his friend. It was something he hadn’t brought up in his therapy session because he thought he could handle it on his own. Apparently he hadn’t done a very good job. The moment he’d closed the door to his apartment, he picked up the phone and stared at it, debating whether it warranted a call to his therapist or not.
After a few minutes of debating with himself, wavering between feeling ridiculous that something this small could make him feel so off balance and feeling angry because life was completely unfair, he finally made the call. It turned out to be the right thing to do when the man on the other end of the line told him that not all of the panic he felt had to be a result of only Stiles, but could be something that also stemmed from all of his previous relationships. They would start working on it the next session. He also added that Derek wasn’t overreacting and that it was perfectly fine to feel the way he did.
And Derek finally felt like he could breathe again.
---
Since the run in at the bookstore, cleverly named Come-Insky Books (Mrs. Kuminsky had told him on one of his first visits that it was her husband’s idea and he thought it hilarious. She hated it, but even so couldn’t bring herself to change it after he died), Stiles started showing up once or twice a week when Derek was there. Derek had no idea how Stiles knew, since he never told anyone when he would be there, but somehow he happened to be there anyway.
While spending time with Stiles was a highlight for him, it stressed Derek out that his little haven of books and Mrs. Kuminsky’s snarky attitude and long-winding stories of her childhood had been invaded without his consent. He promptly stopped visiting more than maybe once or twice a week himself – mostly because he didn’t want Mrs. Kuminsky to yell at him like she did after the week he didn’t show up at all.
Boyd, Erica and Isaac immediately noticed the strained set of his shoulders and how they would more and more often find him curled up on a few pillows in a corner of the almost finished house out in the preserve on the days where they would usually not see him at home at all. After a few times Boyd had sat down in front of Derek and asked him why he wasn’t at the bookstore and all Derek could reply with was a shrug.
“Stiles…” he said softly and trailed off to focus on the book again. Boyd sighed, resignation in his movements as he got to his feet again and went to go find Erica and Isaac. Derek arrived a little early for pack night at the McCall house a few days later, to hear what appeared to be some kind of intervention on their part.
“-you can’t go there anymore.” Isaac said decidedly.
“But why not? It’s a cool store!” Stiles asked, confused.
“Look, Stiles… that bookstore is Derek’s hideout. He's come far but sometimes he still feel like hiding, so he goes there. He never told you, because he really never told anyone. You being there now is stressing him out again and setting him back so many steps." Erica explained, and Derek could imagine the determination in her eyes even from where he was standing on the porch.
“Again?”
“Yeah, again.” Isaac confirmed. There was a tense pause before Boyd cleared his throat.
“When you and Kian started dating and Derek kept bumping into you everywhere, he realised that a lot of places he went and things he did was dependant on others, but especially you. So he reorganised his life. And then you started hanging out again and he started sharing all his new places. Except for that bookstore, because that is where he goes to get away.” Boyd finally said.
“Oh…” Stiles mumbled.
“Mm. Let him have it to himself, okay?” Derek heard the unmistakable sound of Isaac patting Stiles shoulder and Erica smacking a kiss on his cheek. Derek felt his heart swell in his chest as he realised what his betas just did for him. He still wasn’t sure he deserved the affection that they seemed to hold for him, but he knew that he would do everything he could not to destroy it again. Taking a deep breath, he finally knocked on the door and opened it to step inside. He pulled off his jacket and walked into the living room where the entire pack was already sitting, sans Scott and Allison, a pile of movies on the coffee table.
“Hey Der.”
“Hi Derek!”
“Derek.”
Erica walked over and kissed him on the cheek, before dragging him over to sit on the sofa with her, Boyd and Isaac. Derek allowed a small smile to take over his features and nodded hello to everyone, settling in between the betas. He looked around the room, Scott and Allison walking in with bowls of popcorn in their hands that they distributed around to the group. Eventually he met Stiles gaze who looked uncertain for a second before smiling disarmingly at him.
So Derek smiled back.
---
The house in the preserve stood finished on a sunny afternoon in April. It was three stories high and a very pleasant cream colour that contrasted nicely with the green of the forest around it. The entire pack had helped with painting and furnishing, under Lydia’s watchful gaze, and they all had their own rooms picked out. Erica and Boyd shared one, as did Scott and Allison, but the others had their separate rooms so they could stay in the house whenever they wanted to. Derek’s room was the biggest and the only one on the third floor.
He was lounging on his bed about a month after it was finished, lost in the world of another book he’d borrowed from Mrs. Kuminsky when he picked up the sound of a rattling jeep and an erratic heartbeat nearing the house. Stiles. He got to his feet and padded down the stairs when the engine was cut. He opened the door to the porch, expecting to see Stiles coming up the steps but he looked like he was frozen in the driver’s seat of his car. Derek waited a few moments, but when Stiles continued to look like he wasn’t moving anywhere, he stepped down and over to the vehicle.
“Stiles?” he called, knocking lightly on the window. Stiles jerked in the seat, tousled hair whipping as he turned his head in Derek’s direction. He looked like a dear caught in headlights, and his heart beat and even faster rhythm in his ribcage. He suddenly started tearing at the seatbelt, trying to get loose. His breathing came in short bursts and he didn’t seem to get at the mechanism for the belt. Derek pulled the door open, leaning in to click the belt loose and Stiles spilled out of the car.
Derek grabbed his shoulders, steadying him against the vehicle. Stiles hands came up to hold onto his biceps, trying to steady his breathing. Derek held onto him until he’d calmed enough that they could both straighten up properly.
“Stiles, what happened?” Derek asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Stiles lifted his gaze to look at Derek. He ran a hand through his hair, awkwardly clearing his throat.
“Uh…” he looked away. “Can we go inside and I’ll tell you?” he asked shyly. Derek nodded.
“Yeah, sure. Come on!” he stepped away from the car, going back up the steps to the house again and held the door open for Stiles. He passed him with a blush on his cheeks and they both made their way to the living room where they sat down on the couch. After 10 minutes of silence, and no indication that Stiles would start talking anytime soon, Derek stood up from his seat.
“I’ll make some tea, and then we’ll talk, okay?” Stiles nodded slowly in agreement as he stared at the blank TV, but Derek had already walked away into the kitchen through the door adjoining it to the living room. He warmed the water and only a few minutes later he was walking back into the room with two steaming mugs in his hands. Derek handed one to Stiles, one spoon of honey and a splash of milk in it – just the way he liked it.
“I broke up with Kian.” Stiles confessed after a few moments of fidgeting with his cup. Derek only managed to not startle because of his werewolf reflexes. Something akin to hope and/or happiness flared in his chest at those words and he brutally tamped it down.
“Oh?” he said instead, taking a sip of his tea and waited for Stiles to continue.
“Yeah.” Was all that came out of him and they continued drinking their tea in silence.
“Is that why you were freaking out in the car?” Derek asked eventually.
“No.” Was Stiles quick reply. “No, I- it wasn’t that. Although, I suppose it was a part of it.” He put his cup down on the coffee table and his shoulders curled into himself, with his knees drawn up on the couch underneath him. Derek put his own cup down, placing one hand on Stiles shoulder.
“Stiles, just tell me what happened.” He encouraged softly, smiling. Stiles looked up only to look down again just as quick.
“I had a revelation. I was standing in Kian’s apartment washing the dishes and it hit me – is this it?” Stiles fidgeted. “I have spent over a year with that man and I love him, but…” he trailed off with a huff. “Sometimes we behave more like friends than lovers and there is no passion and- it’s just not right.”
“All couples experience lull’s in the relationship, Stiles.” Derek started and he could barely believe he was saying the words himself. “It’s really not that uncommon. Maybe if you just-“
“No, that’s just it.” Stiles urged, looking up. “It’s been like this since we met. There’s no fire, no passion no- spontaneity! It feels like we settled for each other. Or maybe I settled for him, I don’t know.” Stiles mumbled something incoherent under his breath. Derek had trouble understanding why Stiles was telling him this.
“Okay, so… you broke up with him?” Stiles nodded. “When?”
“Two weeks ago.” He admitted quietly and Derek’s eyes widened.
“Two weeks ago?” Derek gaped. It was unattractive even for him.
“Yeah…”
“Alright well…” Derek started, pondering how to phrase his next question, until he decided that to hell with it! He’d just ask. “Why are you telling me this? And why now?” Stiles took a few deep breaths before looking his gaze with Derek.
“You gave me hope, Derek.” And Derek blinked in confusion.
“What are you- I never- I didn’t- what?”
“I didn’t allow myself to hope. Especially before Kian, because you and I were just friends. But after I met him…” Stiles trailed off, looking into his lap. “You stopped coming to the places where we used to hang out, you didn’t talk to me for months and you created a whole new routine for yourself that didn’t include me. I’m not conceited enough to think that your entire life changed purely because of me, but based on the way you ran out of the bookstore when you saw me with Kian I’m guessing you either did that because it hurt or because the thought of me with a person in general is disgusting.” He chuckled humourlessly. “I’m really hoping it’s not the last one.” It was quiet between them for a minute or two.
"Stiles… did you break up with Kian because you had a hunch about me?” Derek asked slowly, one brow lifted.
“No, no, god… no, I didn’t!” Stiles protested adamantly, a fierce glow in his eyes enforcing the words. “That’s why I didn’t tell you for so long that I broke up with him. I almost thought the same, but, that’s not it. I’ve thought it over a thousand times and – I would’ve broken up with him anyway.” He continued. “Hanging out with you these past few months just re-established why I fell for you the first time, which had me doing it again and… your reaction just made me hope that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t imagining your response this time.”
“I- are you sure?” Derek’s tone was uncertain. Stiles grabbed one of his hands, pressing it to his chest and they stared at each other.
“Nobody has ever made me feel the way that you do, Derek. I don’t have to look for the passion; I see it in your eyes and in who you are.” He smiled shyly. “Please, tell me I’m not wrong this time.” Derek searched his eyes for a moment before a smile spread on his face and he seemed to have found what he was searching for.
“You’re not.” He whispered, free hand moving up to cradle Stiles chin in his hand. They both knew that they had long and hard conversations ahead of them, if either of them wanted it to actually work. But that could wait. Their lips slid together, soft kisses being traded and they curled up close together on the couch.
To Derek, it felt like coming home.
---
“You never told me what made you freak out so badly.” Derek said a few hours, several cups of tea, a movie or two, and long conversations later.
“Oh… I, uh, I was contemplating whether I was making the biggest mistake of my life or not. Kind of, almost worked myself into a panic attack.” Stiles confessed, smiling sheepishly. Derek lifted his head to be able to look at Stiles properly from where he was propped up on top of him.
“What?” he asked incredulously.
“Well, I knew that it was a make-it-or-break-it-moment. I don’t think our friendship could’ve survived if it had turned out I was wrong again, despite everything.” Stiles made a grimace. “I had to try though. I’d say it was worth it, don’t you?” he smiled shyly and Derek grinned back.
“Yeah.” He agreed, pecking Stiles on the lips before putting his head back down, cuddling closer.
Derek definitely thought it was worth it.