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Stiles didn't really know what to do with himself. His life felt off. He didn't know how to talk to dad. He didn't know how to talk to Scott. Talking with Deaton made him want to rip his hair out (it was growing out; letting his dad buzz it was giving him too much of an interrogation opportunity). What he wanted was to march up to the bloody Hales and shake them down for answers. Except he was too scared to even glance in the twins direction at school. Also, they had all been dead? Stiles scowled and stabbed at his lunch. The whole episode made him feel like the music had cut off just before the beat dropped. Unfinished. Unbalanced. Itching. Scott put his hand on Stiles' arm; Stiles flinched.
"Sorry, sorry," he muttered in Scott's direction, cleaning up his spilled food and avoiding Scott's worried eyes.
He had to stop being so goddamnd scared all the time.
Stiles stared at the wall, sitting on his unmade bed. There were no answers to get, because those belonged to - another dimension? What was even his life. He knew that ordinary he would have deep dived into every part of it. But. Stiles let his gaze drop to that part of the floor. His thoughts skittered away. Just thinking about the... the episode - made his heart beat and his hands feel clammy. Stiles looked down, massaging his wrists like he had in Deaton's office. Okay. Stiles took a deep breath. He knew what unsettled him so much, and it wasn't just the episode. No. Think the goddamned word, Stiles. The kidnapping. It wasn't just the kidnapping. It was Derek. How he'd been invading Stiles' space, even when he hadn't been physically close. With is eyes. How he'd said his name. Stiles shuddered and shoot to his feet. He looked over at his computer. Okay. Time to stop being so goddamned scared.
Derek closed his eyes aganist the sun, soaking up the sounds and smells of home. Nothing beat the first day home of summer break. It didn’t matter how desperately he'd wanted to get away after high-school and how much he'd had to convince his mum to let him study in New York, it still settled him in a way nothing else could. Laura came out and joined him on the porch steps. They chatted idly, catching up. Suddenly Laura frowned, lifting her face to catch the wind. When Derek did the same, he felt the whiff. Human. Unfamiliar. Someone scared and frustrated. More specifically, a teenage male, scared and frustrated. Wonderful. Soon they could hear him, coming closer through the woods. He and Laura rose in sync. Mum caught Laura's eyes through the porch door. Laura shrugged. Derek leand against the railing, waiting. A boy emerged from the treeline. He stopped and seemed to survey the house. Then he caught sight of Derek and Laura and froze. And seemed stuck that way. Derek glanced at Laura. What on earth? Laura looked back, just as confused.
Stiles felt his heart beat wildly as Laura approached him, Derek slightly behind. Get yourself together. Get yourself together. Get yourself together, he thought. When they got closer his limbs finally unfroze, and he stumbled backwards. And promptly tripped over a root and fell on his ass. Everyone sort of stopped. This is going great, Stiles though hysterically. Excellent plan.
"Ah," Laura said. "Are you okay?"
Stiles felt his face heat in embarrassment. He was so sick of this. He clenched his jaw, glared up at Laura (only at Laura). "No," he said, defiantly. Then he rode the wave of anger and forced himself to look at Derek. Who stared at him, looking like a gormless idiot. Stiles gave him the finger. Fuck that dude. Fuck him. Derek scowled, taking a step closer. Stiles was up on his feet, scrambling backwards before he knew it. He forced himself to stop. Okay. This was not the plan. Why was he always such an idiot?
Laura crossed her arms. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Her voice was clipped.
Stiles opened his mouth. Too late to say that he was lost and needed to borrow a phone.
"I believe he's the sheriff's son," Talia Hale said thoughtfully, her voice slightly raised to carry over from the porch.
He was having goddamned tea again. Wonderful. Stiles pretended he couldn't feel everyone's eyes on him. The twins being there made it especially embarrassing.
"What's your name?" Talia asked, evenly.
"Stiles," he mumbled.
"Stiles."
"Everyone calls him that," Rachel inserted. Talia looked over at her. "In school," she clarified.
"Hmm," Talia said. "May I ask why you were rude to my son?"
Stiles bit his lip. He felt a hysterical urge to just say it.
"He kidnapped me!" There. The relief almost made him light-headed. It wasn't like he needed to keep the supernatural a secret to them.
"What?!" Derek exclaimed. "No I didn't! I've never seen you in my life."
"Yes, you have. You and the basket team used to hang out at the diner all the time when I was there with my dad."
"I... what?" Derek shook his head. "I haven't kidnapped anyone. And especially not you!"
Talia tilted her head. "Stiles seems to believe this to be the truth."
"I. Haven't. Kidnapped. Anyone."
"How curious," a man mumbled, further away, from the back of the room, where he stood leaning against the wall. Stiles was unsure if he was the father or the uncle.
"Well," Stiles looked at the steam raising from his teacup. "It was apparently a Derek from another dimension? I don't really know the details." He gave Talia a serene smile. "You'll have to ask Deaton for that."
A silence descended over the sitting room.
"I see," Talia said.
"What," Derek said again. "That makes no sense! Why would I do that?"
"I don't know! You were all stupid."
Derek spluttered.
"You were. You showed up in my - in my room, even though you could tell I didn't know you! Saying my name and looking at me like you, like -" Stiles couldn't put that into words. "You knew where I kept my duct tape! And I still think the whole duct tape, tying-me-up-thing was overkill, but apparently I'm 'resourceful'." Stiles made air quotes, crossed his arms and looked at Derek.
Derek looked lost. "I wouldn't do that. Why would I do that?"
"Because you're stupid," Stiles muttered. "Like, why would I help you?! Plus - I knew nothing. You knew that, you took me straight to Deaton's anyway. It was all completely useless. All you wanted with me was -" Stiles shook his head, trying to dispel the memory of Derek's eyes on him, how they made him feel itchy and uncomfortable. "You said my name like - like you expected me to - and you knew things about me that no one knows!" Stiles felt out of breath.
Derek seemed to be blushing and pale at the same time.
"No," Derek denied.
"Well, l can see the appeal."
"Shut up, Peter," Laura said.
Stiles looked over at, apparently, Peter. I'm going to ignore that, he thought, and started babbling. "Anyway. I just wanted to come here and, and - I didn't intend to tell you all this - I just wanted to, I dunno. See Derek. This Derek. That he's different." Stiles looked over at Derek, who still seemed pale. "Now that you're in town. To be sure that you wouldn't, you know, ah - Anyway." Stiles swallowed. "Thanks for the tea?"
"It can't be true," Derek said. The family was once again gathered around the sitting room table. Dad was back from work.
"You heard him. He implied - I would never be involved with someone that age." The ghost of Kate hung in the room.
"It wasn't you you, though," Rachel said.
"No version of me."
"I'm with Derek. I mean, like, Stiles? No way," Cora said.
"What I find concerning is that dear Alan didn't see fit to share this little mishap with us. What do you say, hmm, sister?"
"Yes. That is concerning." Mum and Peter exchanged a significant look.
Derek took a breath. "I'm coming with you."
"Derek."
"It's not true."
"Let him come," Peter said. Mum and Peter exchanged another look.
"Very well."
Derek sat with his back against a tree. Scowling into the woods. Deaton had been completely useless. And he hadn't even been allowed to participate in the whole meeting. The only thing he had learned was that apparently the other him had been older than Derek is now - and thus the other Stiles should be older as well. Derek dug his hands into the earth, felt his claws lengthen. That was worse, that meant it was an even bigger age gap between them. Them as in that Derek and this Stiles. When he straight out asked if that Derek had been inappropriate with Stiles, Deaton had just looked at him blandly and mused that he hadn’t come across any kidnapping he could classify as appropriate behavior, actually.
Derek let his feelings ebb out, released his hands. He had to know. He had to ask Stiles.
Stiles added some chiliflakes and stirred, singing along with the radio and feeling lighter than he had in a long time. When he came home after the confrontation with the Hales he had collapsed on his bed. Exhausted, but also weirdly settled. After resting, his mind sort of blank - his mind sort of blank, that in itself was a miracle - he was now buzzing with energy.
He heard the front door open. "Hi dad!" he called. Then the familiar unease creapt over him and he rushed to the hall, colliding painfully with dad when he rounded the corner.
"Ouff. Stiles, for God's sake."
He grinned with relief. "Hi dad," he said, more softly.
Dad grabbed his shoulder. His arm was warm and grounding over Stiles shoulder as they walked back to the kitchen. His dad sniffed. "Do something smell burnt?"
"Crap."
Noah grabbed a beer and watched as Stiles tried to save the stir fry. His son seemed at ease today. He had called out, instead of rushing to the front door. Hearing the light-hearted sound again had made Noah's heart constrict, and he'd halted in the hallway. And then Stiles had come barreling to the front door, all the same. Noah sighed and wondered for the uptenth time what actually had happened that evening. Stiles had spun him a story about a creepy guy following him from the game store. How he hadn't dared to go home and instead hung out at Deaton's until Noah had called, even though Scott already gone home. There was indeed a man approaching Stiles on the grainy surveillance tape from the game store. A man Noah very much wanted to identify, because he was certain he'd only gotten a heavily edited version and Stiles wasn't talking. Scott wasn't talking. In fact, Noah was fairly certain Scott didn't know either.
Stiles frowned down at the singed stir fry, probably contemplating if it was worse than takeout for his cholesterol.
Noah ruffled his hair and started to set the table.
After consulting Laura and contemplating his options Derek decided that talking to Stiles at his home was a no go. He rubbed his head where Laura had smacked him. Maybe he should discreetly follow him to see what would be a good option.
Following Stiles was easy enough. He seemed to be dividing his time between visiting his dad at work and visiting his friend. Also at work. The rest of the time he spent at home, or cruising around town in an old jeep.
He watched Stiles absently eat an ice cream, parked in the shade with the windows down. He squared his shoulders. This seemed like a good opportunity. He took care to be noisy and visible to Stiles as he approached the car. He saw all of Stiles’ movements cease when he noticed him. Derek stopped, uncertain. Suddenly Stiles flung himself out of the car, marched up to Derek and threw his ice cream at Derek’s chest.
“Thanks for the constant anxiety I’ve had over the last three days!”
Derek spluttered.
Stiles bounced on his feet, glaring. “You’ve been following me. Why have you been following me?”
Derek dabbed at his shirt, looking down at the ice cream melting on the hot asphalt. This was not going well.
“Sorry,” he managed, glancing up at Stiles but then deciding that the ice cream was a safer bet. He frowned. How would he ask Stiles now?
Stiles heaved a sigh. “Was there a reason you were following me?” he said, impatiently.
Derek jammed his hands into his pockets. He looked up, and felt Stiles’ too hard, elevated heartbeat in his own body.
“I need to know what the other Derek did to you.”
They relocated to a picnic table in the shade. Stiles drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes going everywhere. “Look, I don’t really know what to tell you.”
Derek tried to find a way to ask without sounding like a character from a Victorian novel. “Was he - inappropriate - with you?” Yeah. Apparently there was no other way.
Stiles looked incredulous. “Oh, you mean apart from standing way too close to me? Pinning me to the floor and - and - wolfing out! Or crowding me against a wall? My own bedroom wall, to be exact. No, not at all.”
Derek felt ice in his stomach.
“Hey.” Stiles chewed on his lip. “It’s not like it was you, you. I mean, I can tell you’re different. And the wolfing out was more, you know, to prove that he was telling the truth. He wasn't attacking me. Or, technically he was? What with the whole kidnapping thing. But not in a werewolf way." Stiles squinted at him. "Why does it matter so much?”
“It, before, when you talked. It sounded like. Did he -“
"Why does it matter so much?"
Derek looked determinatly at the table.
“Fine. Okay. Fine." Stiles drummed his fingers. "Everything he did was too intense. But not like that. I don’t think. I mean, he scared me. He acted like he knew me. Too well. Too - that was what made me uncomfortable. Sometimes it still feels like he’s too close. I mean, not like, physically, but - and I don’t think he purposefully - it was more like autopilot? So it wasn’t anything, you know-“ Stiles waggled his eyebrows “-sexually inappropriate about it. I don't think. Well. I'm not actually sure? But I don't think so.”
“Oh.” Derek knew about not being sure.
"Listen. He wasn't like that. I'm like, eighty percent sure. Eighty five. It was more that he knew me, and it was very - intense. But I didn't know him. I think that's what's been bothering me so much. Every time he looked at me, it felt like he got too close. And I couldn't - yeah. It felt like I didn't fit. Like I was wrong. And I've been feeling wrong and unsettled and itchy ever since. And scared." Stiles frown.
The ice was gone from his stomach, replacement by a burning uneasiness. Derek didn't know what to do with this. And he certainly didn't want to know anything more about that other dimension. He could see the signs. Danger ahead.
The breeze rustled in the trees around them.
“Huh,” Stiles said, after I while. “It actually does help, being around you. You don’t look at me the way he did. It’s a - it’s a relief.”
Stiles wriggled on the bench, fishing out a receipt and a pen. He wrote his number down and put it in Derek's shirt pocket. "You owe me an ice cream."
Fuck, Derek thought.
Stiles rose up, paused, and then lightly smacked Derek over the head.
“Do not ever stalk me again.”
Derek watched him leave. He couldn’t name a single thought he had in his head.