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The alpha pack had caught him by surprise. Stiles was nursing a few small cuts and some nasty bruises, but things had almost been worse, a lot worse. He’d barely gotten away with help from Deaton. Now, he was sitting in his house, waiting. God, Stiles hated waiting. He was shaking, and his heart was jumping. He felt like he was falling, unable to find solid ground.
When he finally heard footsteps on his porch, he leapt from the couch. Stiles ran until abruptly stopped by the door and squinted at it, nose wrinkling.
“I’m warning you, if you’re not Derek, I will shoot you. I’m not in the mood to play, little alphas.”
He heard a snort, and there it was, his balance restored. His anchor found. The world held warmth once more.
Stiles wrenched the door open, and they just stood looking at each other. Both were desperately trying to let themselves believe the other was okay. Derek smiled, and it was like the spell broke, they were able to move forward. They wrapped their arms around each other and just hung on tightly. Stiles concentrated on just breathing Derek in, feeling his weight, realizing this was real. Derek was safe.
"You're an idiot." Derek said into Stiles' shoulder.
“And you're obviously a romantic.” Stiles said as he pulled Derek in by the hand. Derek grinned, full and happy. Grins like that were rare and always manged to cause Stiles' heart to skip. Derek used their entangled hands to drag him up the stairs and towards the bedroom.
“We need to talk, dude, like strategy, training, emergencies situa-” Stiles was cut off by a kiss. He let himself melt into it easily. For a while, he forgot about the fear and just felt Derek lead. He was pushed onto the bed and stripped of his shirt. He regained his train of thought though when Derek leaned back to take off his own shirt.
“No! Wait, I’m trying to have a conversation here! This is important. Strategy!” Stiles said, flushed.
Derek looked him in the eyes, head bent, as he licked a stripe down Stiles’ stomach.
“So go on.” He began to circle one nipple.
“Mhmm, I was saying...oh, that we really need something...and to do something else and- I can’t think like this! Get off me! We need to talk!”
Derek, with one last lick, moved up so he was looking in Stiles’ eyes. He looked almost bemused.
“No, see, right now, we really don’t. You’re panicking, not thinking rationally. Trying to actually plan would be useless."
Stiles just continued glaring. Derek sighed and rolled his eyes slightly before continuing, "Listen, I gave you part of me. It’s yours now, and it always will be. If you die, that piece dies too. Does that terrify me a little? Of course, but I decided to trust in this, in us,” here he paused to kiss Stiles lightly, “and it’s made me happier than I thought I could ever be again.
"Yeah, you’re right, we need to train, prepare, and learn all we can, but we can’t worry. You’re smart; you know there’s no guarantee that we’ll win every fight. I love you, and I’ll listen when you need it, but you don’t right now. You need proof that I’m not dead. I thought I lost you today, and I need to remind my body that you’re okay, and you need it too. Tonight, we’re just alive and in love, okay?”
The speech had been delivered hastily, like it was embarrassing, but with a certainty that struck Stiles. He’d listened to it with his eyes slowly widening and his jaw dropping slightly. Derek was searching his face now, trying to see what the reaction would be. Stiles gave him a grin and reached up to touch his face.
“Would it wreck the mood if I pointed out that that's the longest string of sentences I've heard come out of your mouth?”
“Only completely.” Derek said, dropping a kiss onto Stiles’ hand, “Stiles, I want to be here. Right here, whether you're scared, sad, angry, or laughing. I'll always do everything I can to come back to you."
“I’m so in love with you,” Stiles said with a laugh, even as a tear dripped down his face. Derek just grinned and kissed it away.
They didn’t have sex that night. They made love. They both clung to each other a little too tight and whispered words of love a little too often, but they laughed too. They shared a night of reassurance and devotion.
…
Stiles let his vision blur as his hand wiped the gravestone.
“You can’t be gone,” a whimper and a trembling lip kept him from speaking for a moment, but he continued, choking on the pain in his tight throat, “I’m not okay. I’ll never be okay again, so you need to be here to fix me.”
Stiles fell to his knees and whispered with a shaking voice, “I love you. Don’t leave.”
By a headstone marked, “Derek Hale. He lost everything, but made himself a new home” the young man sobbed and broke.