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At first, he walked past it and didn’t notice. Which in retrospect was a huge mistake, especially since he was out by the river specifically to inspect the ravine’s walls so they could ensure that the spell would hold once fully cast.
“It’s shaped like a lightning bolt,” Stiles says as he scrolls through his camera for the photos he took, trying to show them to Deaton back in the vet’s office. “And I know that it could be a natural crack in the wall, but there’s no reason that it should be there, going by the reports I found.”
“An accident then,” Deaton nods, and Stiles narrows his eyes in confusion.
“No, it’s not like it’s there by chance, or that something ran into the wall…” Stiles starts, but he’s cut off by Deaton’s head shake.
“In geology, an accident is an irregularity in a rock formation that seems to have no natural explanation,” Deaton tells him, glancing at the photos that Stiles has finally pulled up on the small camera screen. “If that’s what we’re looking at, then it might be a problem.”
“What kind of a problem?”
“If it’s of magical origin, then we can assume that it hasn’t appeared by natural means,” Deaton says, continuing to look through the photos.
“Yeah, I figured that,” Stiles mutters in frustration, because Deaton as per usual isn’t giving him clear answers.
“I suggest that you and Mr. Hale return to the ravine,” Deaton finally looks up from the camera’s screen. “He’ll be able to tell if the crack has any unnatural causes. Of course if it does, we’ll need to adjust the spell accordingly.”
Stiles already has his phone out by the time Deaton begins rummaging through his stash of vials on the side of the room, finger poised over Derek’s name in the contacts list. He pauses though, and narrows his eyes at the vet’s back.
“So you think it’s older?” Stiles asks. “Not something more recent, or even a current threat?”
“Let us hope,” Deaton replies, and before Stiles can question him further, he leaves the room.
An hour later, Stiles is cursing as he’s climbing back down into the ravine. Derek’s already at the bottom, of course, his werewolf abilities allowing him to just jump down without the danger of breaking something -- or at least ensuring that if he did get injured, he’d heal in moments.
“It’s unfair,” Stiles grumbles, sliding down the last bit of the incline. “Deaton just had to insist on me coming back here. Why couldn’t it be just the werewolf? No, let’s send the human, slow down the process.”
“Emissary in training,” Derek tells him with a smile, knowing better than to offer help. “I’m guessing he wanted back-up for the werewolf, in case this turns out to be of magical origin,” he adds, waving a hand at the rock wall.
“And is it?” Stiles asks, catching his breath after the climb down.
“I don’t know. It’s not like Deaton told me what exactly to look for,” Derek shrugs, and he walks closer to where the crack in the surface is.
“Of course not,” Stiles mumbles. “Why make this easier on anyone? Why not send the werewolf with the human into a remote rock ravine where magical forces might be, and hope for the best? What even is the best? Oh, the magic could do anything, like make the wolf feral. I’m sure the human will be useful when he’s mauled to pieces.”
“I can hear you, you know?” Derek growls. “It’s not that kind of magic. At most, it’s someone else’s protection spell. It’s not natural or human in origin.”
Stiles looks at the wall again, and he realizes that he can hear a low hum coming from the crack. It vanishes the moment Derek takes his hand off the rock, and comes back louder when he touches closer to the lightning shape.
“It’s recent, though,” Derek says. “Someone has tried to mark this off as their own territory.”
“Recent like,” Stiles starts, and he looks around the ravine, “someone could be creeping up on us kind of recent?”
“No,” Derek replies, and his smile could be considered fond if Stiles didn’t know better. “A few months, I’d say. You’ll be able to feel it, here,” he grabs Stiles’ hand and puts it to the wall, right next to the crack in it.
Stiles stands there, his palm against the cold stone, Derek’s hand covering his own, and he can’t for the life of him focus on what he’s supposed to be feeling or hearing. The buzzing in his ears feels less like the one he caught when Derek’s hand was pressed against the rock, and more like the rushing of blood caused by Derek standing right behind him.
It’s been weeks since they were this close. Stiles was -- he can’t deny it or pretend otherwise -- avoiding Derek from the morning after the last full moon, but now he’s at a loss for a reason why. It comes rushing back to him when he hears Derek’s breathing right by his ear, and he remembers waking up in the loft, curled against the furry wolf shape in the bed. Derek shifted that night, and Stiles was the only one who was not growled out of the loft. Instead, Derek wrapped himself around Stiles protectively, and refused to let Stiles leave.
“Hi,” Stiles says now, afraid to turn his head to look at Derek.
“I’m sorry,” Derek says, and Stiles’ eyes widen. “For the other night, I’m sorry I… I shouldn’t have…”
“Derek,” Stiles slips his hand from under Derek’s palm, and he turns around. “What are you apologizing for?”
“For holding you in the loft against your will,” Derek says, his eyes cast down on the ground. “It was… it doesn’t matter what it was, but I shouldn’t have.”
It’s then that Stiles gets it, because he knows how much it still terrifies Derek to be held hostage, and what memories it brings.
“It wasn’t,” he says, and waits until Derek looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I would have stayed anyway, if you’d asked.”
“Can’t really speak in that form,” Derek mumbles, and his face starts turning downwards again.
“You can now, can’t you?” Stiles asks, and he reaches up to Derek’s chin. “Ask me now.”
There’s a beat, and Stiles can see the way Derek’s eyes scan his whole face, how his nostrils flare a little as he tries to make sure that Stiles is speaking for himself, that there is no magic at play. So he keeps talking, because he also has things to explain.
“I didn’t leave because I felt like you were holding me hostage,” Stiles says, his fingers still on Derek’s jaw. “You were in your wolf form though, and I wasn’t sure if it was a territory thing, an instinct thing, or something else. And I didn’t want you to know… it’s the first night that I slept though, without nightmares, without jumping up at the slightest noise.”
Derek’s eyes are wide and still searching Stiles’ face -- for what, Stiles doesn’t know, but he doesn’t care. There’s no lie in his words, and knowing that Derek felt guilt over that night makes him want to confess things that he held back for a long time.
“I also figured that your senses might be a little sharper in that form, and…” he pauses, and bites his bottom lip as a blush spreads over his cheeks. “There were things you’d definitely notice when waking up. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Also, I wasn’t sure if there would be any clothes when you shifted back.”
Stiles pulls his hand back from Derek’s face and tucks his fingers into his pockets. There’s no way he’s going to go into detail about how he would’ve reacted if he’d woken up to Derek as a human. Then again, he doesn’t think he needs to, if the little hint of a smile on Derek’s lips is anything to go by.
“There usually aren’t any,” Derek says, and the smile grows. “Would that have been a problem?”
The tone of Derek’s words makes Stiles breathe out in relief and relax. Teasing is something he’s familiar with, even though it never happened between them. He wonders for a second if it’s flirting , then decides to test the waters further.
“That depends on what you’d consider a problem,” he says, and shrugs his shoulders. “Waking up in bed with a hot guy? Not a problem for me. Having said hot guy panic and hate the situation? Potentially friendship damaging.”
“What if the guy didn’t hate it?” Derek asks, and Stiles’ head snaps up.
“No?”
Derek shakes his head. “I thought you did,” he says. “You disappeared in the morning, and then you wouldn’t talk to me for weeks.”
Stiles has to stop himself from slapping a hand to his face.
“It wasn’t just a territorial thing,” Derek continues. “To keep you there that night, I mean. It was the first night of good sleep for me too, in a long time. You… it’s not that my wolf side is separate from me , it’s just a little more simple that way, to do what I want.”
“What do you want, Derek?” Stiles asks, emboldened by the conversation and the revelations.
“You make me feel safe,” Derek tells him, and Stiles’ eyes are drawn to Derek’s hands twitching by his sides, like he’s trying to hold himself back from reaching out. “I just didn’t know… I didn’t think you’d want to know.”
“We’re both idiots, you know?” Stiles asks, but it’s not a question he needs an answer to.
He’s already close enough to touch Derek, so he pulls a hand out of his pocket, and reaches out to lace their fingers together.
“Stiles?” Derek says, looking at Stiles with a confused expression.
“So, next full moon, if you want me to, I’ll stay again,” Stiles whispers. “No need to get all growly at the others about it either.”
“Do I have to wait until the full moon?” Derek asks, and there’s a smile playing on his lips now, his eyes brighter than they were moments earlier.
“My Dad’s on the late shift tonight,” Stiles offers.
He’s smiling just as brightly as Derek is when they close the gap between them, and when Derek cups Stiles’ jaw in his free hand.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out, and presses his lips against Derek’s gently.
The kiss doesn’t turn much deeper, they both keep it soft and gentle, and pull away only seconds later.
“Let’s go tell Deaton about the thing,” Stiles says, and he nods towards the rock wall next to them. “Then you can show me if the full shift is only a full moon thing.”
He’s halfway up the ravine’s wall when he hears Derek’s voice from behind his back.
“It’s not, but there are easier ways to get me out of my clothes.”
Stiles doesn’t slide down the rocks, but it’s a close thing.