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Derek stumbled away from the battle, quickly checking himself before nodding. Things had gotten a little close there. At one point, he’d been hit by some sort of dust, but, overall,the fight had gone well. He still wasn’t exactly aware of what caused the fairies aggression. He’d just been walking in the woods, when a large stick hit him upside the head. Next thing he knew? Fairy fight. He was probably going to have to be “diplomatic” at some point and try to appease them, but, for today, they had won, and it was time for celebratory pizza.
Derek would never admit it, but ordering pizza after a hard-won battle was one of his most precious rituals. Looking around at his pack and letting himself realize that they were safe, had survived, and were still whole was necessary for him as an alpha. Scott was fighting Jackson for the last piece, Stiles was ranting about how they’d just fought fairies in “a fucking forest, because his life was apparently Fern Gully”, and Erica was sprawled next to Isaac and Boyd on the couch, trying to brush out the dirt from her hair. It was safe. It was home. It was pack.
That night Derek fell asleep content which probably explained why he woke up the next morning deaf. He had long ago accepted that someone out in the Cosmos hated him.
He didn’t notice right away what was wrong. He woke up and felt…odd. Something wasn’t right, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. He sat in bed and listened, trying to pick out the footsteps of an intruder or of his pack- anything to explain why he woke up on edge. That was when, slowly, he noticed that he couldn’t hear anything. Even empty, the house was never silent, constantly creaking due to its age. There was the sound of the pack moving around, or the fridge humming, or the phone ringing, or something. It was never this quiet.
Derek felt his heart start to pound. Every sensor he had was screaming, “NOT OKAY, PACK, DANGER.” He leapt out of bed and out his bedroom door. He raced down the stairs in record time and slid his way into the kitchen, knowing the pack had slept over last night.
They were there. His betas and Stiles were all there and safe. He glanced at them each in turn. Relief flooded through him strongly enough to make his knees weak. With a sigh, he could breathe again, he could...not hear himself. Or Isaac. Isaac was talking and Derek couldn’t…hear…him. His lips were moving, the others were watching, but Derek couldn’t- well, there goes that relief.
Stiles had gotten up. He missed the chair squeaking, but smelled the anxiety as he approached. Derek felt another stab of panic when he realized that Stiles was talking now too. Apparently Derek had lost his hearing.
...This was going to be a fun day.
He glared at Stiles, who was now making what he probably thought was soothing motions with his hands and was still talking.
“I think I’m deaf.” Derek said, feeling strange not being able to hear himself.
Stiles gaped at him, his mouth moving again. Derek could tell he’d asked a question by the way his eyebrows shot up.
“Deaf means I can’t hear you talk, Stiles.” Derek said, trying to draw out the words, speaking as he would to a child.
Stiles said something, shook his head, and then held up his middle finger. Derek just rolled his eyes, and crossed the kitchen to get the notebook lying on the counter. He threw it at Stiles, before glancing around for a pen, and Isaac nodded, held up one finger in the universal sign for “one minute” before running out the door. He came back holding a purple, glittery pen with a large puff ball on the end. He held it out to Stiles with a straight face and even Derek knew that the noise Stiles made was indignant.
As Stiles took the pen, he said something to Isaac making him blush. He quickly wrote, “When, where, and how did this start?”
“When I woke up this morning, probably had something to do with the damn fairies. That’s the only strange thing we did yesterday. Fucking fairies.”
Stiles turned his head, and the others and him began to talk. It was a testament to how often things had gotten bizarre (and to how often they were able to fix it) that no one was panicking. Scott pulled out his phone and began to text someone, probably Allison, but hopefully Lydia. Derek noticed the way they had all turned to Stiles. In everyone’s mind, he was the clear second. He felt the now familiar ache in his chest over what could have been, before swiftly shaking his head. He had to stop thinking like this.
Stiles was now talking on the phone and it looked like he was arguing. Derek raised an eyebrow towards him, then turned towards Isaac who noticed and grabbed the notebook.
“Lydia. We’re going into the woods b/c fairies some1 should stay w/ you, L thinks it should be S, he disagrees”
Derek nodded, understanding the anxiety he saw in Stiles eyes. Stiles didn’t want to stay here with him, and Derek couldn’t blame him. Two months ago they’d finally made sure that the alpha pack wasn’t a threat anymore. It had taken over a year to do. The group had to come together and get their collective heads out of their collective asses to do it. Finally, they were pack. Finally. Derek had sat there under the stars that night feeling giddy and confident in a way he hadn’t for years.
So, he’d kissed Stiles. It was just the two of them celebrating in a clearing. He seen Stiles bright laughing eyes, and he had wanted. It had been so long since Derek had wanted anyone that he didn’t even think before leaning over and just kissing him.
It wasn’t long or passionate. Just a simple press of lips against each other, but it sent shock waves through Derek’s body, a rush of arousal and excitement that he hadn’t felt since…since Kate. With that jarring thought, Derek had pushed Stiles away. He looked into to those big, hopeful brown eyes and said, “No”. It had taken one word for Stiles’ entire face to fall. He couldn’t even explain, couldn’t even try to. He’d never talked about Kate, and when he tried, his tongue felt too dry or his throat too tight. He could barely breathe, let alone talk. Stiles had looked at him hard for a moment, before turning and walking away.He looked small, defeated, and sad, and Derek? Derek had let him. Stiles had worked hard to never be alone with Derek since. Derek was extremely grateful for it, but now, well, now fucking fairies happened.
Derek sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was right about today: fun.
Stiles was continuing to pace, while the pack was talking and grabbing their various breakfasts. There would be the sounds of laughter and the scraping of silverware on plates. Someone would forget about the trick faucet, so the water would be dripping like every morning, an almost pleasant constant in the cacophony. Derek took a deep breath when he felt the panic rise again. They could fix this- fix him. They had to.
He slipped out of the room and showered, pretending like not being able to hear the water hit the tiles wasn’t weird at all. Eventually, he had to leave the curtain open. He kept flinching, thinking there was an intruder he couldn’t hear. Showers normally relaxed Derek, but he stepped out of this one twitching.
He went down stairs and poked his head into the kitchen. No one. He looked at the notebook. Isaac had written, “S lost. We’re going to get L, then get your cure. Have a good day!”
Sarcastic brat.
Derek grabbed the pen and notebook before heading to the living room. Stiles was looking through their DVD collection (it was getting large with everyone’s contributions), but looked up when Derek walked in. He came over and grabbed for the notebook.
“Lydia made me stay. Something about fairies liking red hair. We’re watching a movie. Closed captions, baby!”
Derek had noticed that Stiles mouth moved and he made facial expressions when he wrote. He could practically hear his inflections as he read over the note. He nodded at Stiles, who went back to digging.
He finally held up a movie and grinned. It was Highlander, the stupid movie Stiles had been trying for a months now to get him to watch. It started after he first explained about the alpha pack. Stiles had looked confused before saying in a deep voice, “But, I thought there can be only one?”.
When Derek just quirked an eyebrow at him, Stiles had looked scandalized.
“You’ve never seen Highlander? Seriously? It’s like your perfect movie. It’s about a tortured soul that acts tough and grimaces a lot, but secretly has a heart of gold and just wants companionship. Duncan MacLeod is your patronus.”
Every movie night, Stiles would yell about Highlander, and Derek would yell a firm no back. Now, he was defenseless. He rolled his eyes and sat down on the couch.
Stiles threw his hands up triumphantly, though Derek missed the exclamation that was sure to have accompanied the motion. He stuck it in the player, and jumped onto the couch. Stiles was talking…a lot. He appeared to be rambling, and Derek didn’t think he even cared if he couldn’t be heard. He settled next to Derek on the couch using his hands expressively as he talked.
The movie came on. It took some adjustment, but it wasn’t hard to read the words that ran along the bottom of the screen. Derek even caught himself smiling faintly at the look on Stiles face during the intro to the movie. Stiles obviously loved the movie, and it was easy to tell when the action scenes were coming, because Stiles started to get visibly excited. About an hour into the movie, Stiles flinched and sat up. He turned his head towards Derek, said something, hit his palm to his head, then grabbed for the notebook. He tossed it over and Derek read, “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS THAT NOISE? KILL IT.” Derek was confused for a second before he remembered and rushed out of the room. He grabbed for his cellphone near the kitchen table and shut it off. He’d forgotten about the alarms.
When he came back into the living room, phone in his pocket, Stiles was already writing.
“Why do you have an alarm set for 10? You’re up at dawn every morning.”
Derek shrugged, “I use it to keep me on track during the day. 10 was workout. I need the alarm to keep me focused. I…I drift sometimes. It helps to have something to pull me back.” Derek said this all stiffly while staring at the wall over Stiles shoulder.
Stiles reached out slowly and touched his arm. Derek didn’t like talking about this, because it meant acknowledging that, sometimes, all the bad in his head pulled him under. It made him feel like he had burned with his family, lost to the pain running through him until he was just a dry husk. The alarm was like a jump-start to his brain. He had one set for every hour making it impossible to get lost for too long. He didn’t say another word, and Stiles didn’t ask.
They made eye contact and held it, Stiles hand still on his arm. Derek saw compassion and empathy in Stiles’ steady gaze, but not pity. Stiles watched him for a moment, then nodded and stepped away. Stiles bent over the notebook for a moment, while Derek struggled to breath. He didn’t want to talk about this- couldn’t talk about this.
When Stiles held up the notebook, it read, “10- Workout, 11- “Me” time 12- Lunch with the gals 1- Nails at Frederico’s 2- Shopping! 3- The kids come home and make such a mess!”
Stiles grinned as Derek read it over. Derek grabbed it and ripped the sheet up with a scowl. He could see Stiles laughing and could barely hold back his smile. That was all it took for the tension to clear, and Derek’s heart to slow. Derek gave him a light smack upside Stiles’ head as they sat back down to continue the movie.
They had only been sitting for maybe fifteen more minutes when Stiles sat up again. He reached into his pocket and held up his lit cellphone. It must have been ringing. Stiles paused the movie to answer the call. The next few minutes were equal parts frustrating and amusing for Derek. It bothered him to not know what was being said, but whatever it was had shocked Stiles, and his face was making a dozen strange expressions. Stiles eyebrows were high up, and he was blinking a lot. Finally, he said something into the phone, nodding slowly, then hung up.
He looked at Derek, blinked a few more times, then wrote down, “They need 9 lbs of Mayonnaise, blue pipe cleaners, and toilet paper. I know what you’re thinking, but, apparently, it would take too long to explain. Then we meet them at the usual spot. On the bright side, all you have to lose is a vital part of your basic functioning.”
Derek groaned aloud and put his head in his hands. He felt a pat on the back, then the couch bounce when Stiles jumped up. He pushed the notebook at Derek.
“Get in loser, we're going shopping,” was written.
Derek smirked a little. He only knew the quote, because of Erica’s insistence on chick flicks every time she chose for movie nights. Something about “needing some sensitivity and estrogen up in here”. He grabbed his coat, waited for Stiles to grab his stuff, then headed out the door. He walked over to the driver’s side of the Camaro, but felt a hand on his shoulder. Stiles was smiling in a very evil way, before holding out the notebook.
“You need a special license to drive deaf in California. You wouldn’t encourage a young, impressionable mind to break the law would you?”
It was even written out beforehand, that bastard. Stiles had planned this knowing that the pack had taken Stiles’ jeep. Derek rolled his eyes upwards before hesitantly holding out the keys. Stiles wasn’t a bad driver, but this was his baby.
“No speeding, tight curves, or fast breaking. I will end you if you so much as scratch her.” Derek all but growled, as Stiles face broke into a grin.
Stiles grabbed the keys and danced into the driver’s seat. Derek took one look at him there and tried not to visibly wince. He went around and sat in the passenger’s seat. Derek held his breath until they got to the main roads. The woods were the hardest to maneuver, but Stiles had handled them well. Then he started dancing.
Derek had seen him do it plenty while driving his jeep. He would just move his free arm and leg while keeping the necessary ones on the wheel and gas. Normally loud and obnoxious singing accompanied it, and Derek found himself glad that he was deaf for the first time since he awoke.
“No. No dancing while driving the Camaro.”
Stiles smiled slightly, but limited the dancing to just bobbing his head and, from what Derek could see, singing loudly.
“What are we even listening to?”
Stiles wiggled his eyebrows, but obviously couldn’t drive and write. A few minutes later they had pulled into the grocery store parking lot. Before getting out of the car, Stiles wrote, “A very manly song for men about recognizing the threat of an approaching person and other robust qualities.”
Great. Stiles had been listening to some girly song in his car.
As they approached the mayonnaise, Stiles wrote “Lydia did the math. It’ll take 144 ounces, these come in 8. Ready to look like complete maniacs, because we are literally going to walk up to the cashier with 18 of these, pipe cleaners, and toilet paper?”
“We’ll get ice cream too.” Derek said with a shrug.
Stiles laughed again and started grabbing mayonnaise jars. It took a trip to three aisles and a written fight about which flavor of ice cream to buy before they were standing in front of a very startled cashier. Stiles paid, so Derek wouldn’t try to explain anything. They walked out of the store, caught each other’s eye, and started to laugh. The day was just too surreal, and they could either laugh or cry at this point. They climbed into the car and drove over to the meeting place while occasionally bursting into giggles.
They pulled up to the side of the road and started in. It was only a five minute hike to the meeting space. They had chosen it as a pack because it had a good level trail from the road that opened up to a large, comfortable clearing. In the six months since they regularly started using it, they’d built benches and a fire pit there. It was a friendly, homey place. When Stiles and Derek got in sight of it today though, they didn’t move or say a word. They just stared, because something was wrong, really wrong.
The pack turned to look at them all at once, which meant Stiles had probably yelled something. Derek wished he could hear the explanation for this, because the entire pack was blue.
They had blue clothes, blue skin, blue hair, and even blue teeth. He could see them all yelling things to Stiles as he walked up and poked Scott. They took the supplies and ran off into the woods again leaving Derek and Stiles trying to figure out if that had actually happened.
“Wha- I mean how?” Derek said. Stiles just looked over at him, eyes wide.
He wrote, “Hell if I know. All they said was ‘no time’. Their voices were all like the chipmunks' though. All high. I have decided that I officially don’t want to know, deal?”
Derek felt a spike of fear. No, no deal. He needed to know to situation so he could give the right orders. He looked at Stiles face and saw absolute calm. Stiles wasn’t worried at all, but was trusting them to find a solution. If Stiles, a human, could trust them, then maybe their alpha should try to. He took a breath, pushing down the instincts of protect-find-lead, and focused on what he knew.
The pack had been through a lot in the last year. They’d fought not just the alpha pack, but various other “woodland creatures” (as Stiles had named them). The creatures had heard about the familial upset and wanted territory or to make new treaties. It had been trying and undeniably strange year but the pack survived it all. He could depend on them and, with that thought, he felt the comfort of support. He wasn’t alone, and wow, that was weird to think. He wasn’t alone. Stiles must have read it on his face, because he smiled and slapped a hand to his back.
“Yeah, pack. Cool, huh?” said the paper Stiles held up.
Derek smiled lightly at him and turned to walk back up the path. The ride back was uneventful, but when they got back Stiles grabbed his hand before he got out of the car, before writing.
“Stiles plan for Derek’s day of deafness. 1. Finish Highlander, because, admit it, you like it. 2. Food. Food is a beautiful thing. 3. Reading aloud. Why? Because you are not losing your ability to word. 4. Eagerly await pack.”
Derek looked at the list then at Stiles. He was wearing that face Derek hated. It was his this-is-going-to-happen-I-don’t-care-what-you-say look. It had led him to do dangerous, stupid, and questionable things over the last year, and if it had also led him to do things that were amazing and fun? Well, Derek didn’t have to tell a soul. The point was that he knew not to fight that look, so he just sighed and nodded.
Stiles grinned like he’d been handed a puppy with a coupon for a year’s supply of curly fries attached to the collar, and, damn it, that smile was almost worth every annoyance of the day. Derek quickly backpedaled his thinking. It was part of the reason he’d distanced himself, hoping separation would’ve stopped thoughts like that from bouncing into his head. It didn’t appear to be working.
Derek opened the car door with more force than was strictly necessary and hurried into the house. Close spaces, Stiles, and grinning weren’t a good combination. He threw his coat onto the kitchen table and grabbed a soda.
Stiles was already on the couch when he got back into the living room. Derek made sure to sit on the very far end. They sat in silence as the movie played. He was surprised to actually be getting worried at the final fight scene. When it was over, he looked over at Stiles to find him watching carefully. He held up the notebook, which read, “So…?”
“A little cheesy, but it was okay.” He wouldn’t give Stiles the satisfaction of good.
Stiles laughed and wrote, “I knew you’d like it! You love the lone heroes! I win!”
“Yay! You win!” Derek said with faked enthusiasm before abruptly changing his tone, “Now, go get the leftover pizza so we can eat.”
Stiles pouted and wrote, “Why do I have to get it?”
Derek put his a hand to his ear and said with exaggerated volume, “Sorry? What? I can’t hear you.”
He got hit with a couch pillow, but Stiles got the pizza, so Derek counted that as his own win. They sat and ate, talking a little about the movie and about Derek’s “blatant lying”. When they were done, Stiles grabbed the plates and jumped up. The notebook hit Derek on the head after a moment.
“Alright, we’re reading now. Don’t give me that look, it’s happening, and I've been meaning to read through these anyway.”
Then a book of Grimm’s fairytales landed on his lap. Derek glared at Stiles who just waggled his eyebrows at him, before stealing the notebook back.
“Entertain me, peon.”
Derek rolled his eyes, but opened the book. He’d never actually read all of these stories before. His parents were against traditional fairytales, due to their “inaccurate and, frankly, horrifying portrayal of wolves”. He’d been ten before he’d first read “The Three Little Pigs”, not to mention “Little Red Riding Hood”. He started to read, and some stories were interesting, others boring, and some hit too close to reality, but he made sure to keep his tone even. It was strange, but comforting, to see everything he was afraid made into children’s tales. A story was something to laugh at or learn from, but it couldn’t hurt you. He took particular pleasure in the stories that painted fairies as harmless.
When he glanced over, Stiles was curled up on his couch and listening to him, eyes open and happy. His voice trailed off, and, soon, they were just staring at each other. Derek felt that now familiar weight on his chest again. It was so hard to describe. There was guilt, but there was happy anticipation; worry, but peace; loss, but something he wanted to gain too. It was this terrifying whirlwind that Stiles bright gaze always seemed to cause in him.
From the moment he met Derek, Stiles had judged him not for what he was but who he was. That’s when this feeling started for Derek. That this human could just blindly accept that he was a werewolf but wouldn’t accept him being an asshole. He didn’t even know, couldn’t know, what he did to Derek. He was this fascinating, intoxicating creature that Derek had started watching and hadn’t been able to look away from. Not being able to hear Stiles hadn’t even affected Derek too much, because he knew all of Stiles’ facial cues. He had been watching Stiles for what felt like years.
Stiles was sliding over now, cautiously, across the couch like he didn’t want to spook him. Derek didn't want to leave though. He was so tired of running, and he just really wanted to hold Stiles, talk to him, and, god, even be yelled at by him. So, Derek watched as Stiles moved closer and paused in front of his face. They’re eyes were only inches apart like this, and Derek saw it all again- the acceptance, the strength, and the determination. Derek’s heart skipped a little. Stiles said so much silently. Stiles nodded, then moved forward. Shyly, their lips met. Derek felt himself sigh and his shoulders relax. He melted into Stiles, warmth, and chapped lips, but then he remembered. It all came rushing back. That brush of lips reminded him of his first hesitant kisses with Kate.
Kate.
He couldn’t be Stiles’ Kate. It was easy to think you want something when you’re young, but he wouldn’t hurt Stiles like that. There was a light in his eyes that was too precious, and Derek wouldn’t be the one to extinguish it. He pulled back and shook his head slightly. Stiles blinked and when his eyes opened they looked so sad. It took all of Derek’s will power to not reach out to him again. He was pretty sure he’d do anything to make Stiles stop looking like that. Stiles grabbed for the notebook, but didn’t move from next to Derek.
“Why? You want this as much as I do, so why?”
Derek looked from the paper, to Stiles hard and angry stare, before in a quiet voice saying, “Kate.”
Stiles head tilted to the side a little. He looked confused as he wrote, “Allison’s aunt?”
Derek fought the immediate impulse to lie and run. Stiles at least deserved an explanation. He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to do more. Long minutes past, Stiles watching carefully. He didn't push, seemed to realize that Derek would tell him, he just needed to remember how to breathe first. He looked up, met Stiles' gaze, and began to speak. Stiles would tell him much later that his voice had cracked and broken as he told the story of a beautiful woman and an arrogant kid, and Derek would forever be glad he didn’t know at the time. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to continue.
“So, we can’t do this. I won’t take advantage of you like that.” Derek said, when he’d finally finished.
Stiles looked at Derek, his mouth open, and began to write. It took a while for him to finish, and his lips were moving the entire time. Occasionally, he would glance at Derek, roll his eyes, and visibly groan.
“First let me say that you are such an idiot. I could’ve been having all sorts of debauched fun with you for months, but no! You had to be noble. Idiot. Kate sucked, like majorly, but you’re not her, and I, thank God, am not you. What happened to you was tragic (like I’m pretty sure I read it in Classical Greek) but you don’t want to kill my entire family, correct? You have no ulterior motives beside the obvious one of getting in my pants. Derek, this is not whatever fucked up thing you had with Kate. This is real and honest and deserves a chance. It’s not going anywhere anyway. You tried the ‘ignore and run’ method, how about the ‘face it like a man’ method?”
Derek blinked after reading it all. He looked at Stiles, who just grabbed the book back.
“I will write more if necessary. I will write prose, and sonnets, and epic odes, if that’s what I need to do to change your mind. We can do this, Derek. This crazy relationship in the middle of chaos thing? We can do it.”
Derek just stared at Stiles. He stared and thought of the warmth he’d felt during the kiss. It had been different than the warmth the pack gave him. It had been special and he’d felt something dark and lost fall from him. He finally felt…healed. Wait…no he WAS healed. He could hear Stiles’ muttering.
“…that bitch, and, news flash, some little sadist when you were like sixteen doesn’t actually get to ruin your life. You are an emotionally constipated idiot, but you could be my emotionally constipated idiot. That’s what we both want. I love you, douche-canoe. Love is literally knocking at your door…”
He was writing angrily and hadn’t looked up, or he would’ve seen Derek’s incredulous stare. Fortunately the phone rang just as Stiles was putting on a high voice and saying something about “breasts of evil.” Stiles glanced up at Derek, who was still just staring, before getting up to grab phone he’d left near the television.
“Hey! Where are you guys? What? Did what work? You fixed it?” he looked up at Derek almost guiltily, before chuckling nervously “Yeah. I think he’s better.”
Stiles hung up, still watching Derek.
“So, umm, Derek? How much of that exactly did you hear? Because I’m hoping very little, if I’m being honest. If we do the relationship thing, that should be a rule. Honesty…yeah.” Stiles trailed off when Derek didn’t respond.
“Fine, you heard. I know it’s not mutual, that’s cool, but can you at least let me try to help you. You were hurt more than anyone should. You have some serious issues to work through, dude, but you can trust me. You don’t need to date me or even like me, but can you try to trust me? I do reserve the right to try to woo you though. We’d be awesome together.”
It was, after everything, Stiles standing there with his hands placed firmly on his hips that made Derek crack. Not because of some grand declaration or because Stiles said just the right thing. It was because he was there. He’d heard Derek’s story. The deepest, darkest tale of shame that Derek had to tell and was asking, no, demanding to be in a relationship with him. He still wanted Derek. That is why he took his first halting step towards Stiles.
Stiles took the rest, until they were pressed against each other with Stiles arms wrapping him in a hug. Derek felt his arms grab Stiles reflexively. Stiles nuzzled in, and, for a moment, they just stood there wrapped in each other. Derek felt his heart race as he desperately tried to keep from pushing away.
“This is a good thing,” he thought firmly.
Stiles sighed, pulling away slightly so he could look at Derek’s face, “I’m going to kiss you now. You’ve been warned.”
Stiles leaned forward and, yeah, there it was again, warmth and safety in the soft press of lips. Derek leaned forward and pressed harder; Stiles made a little eager-sounding noise and slowly opened his mouth. Derek pulled back, looked, first, at Stiles eyes then at Stiles open mouth just as his tongue flicked over them. He’s pretty sure he groaned as he bent to kiss Stiles again. This time they both opened their mouths. It was a little awkward and their noses bumped, but Derek never felt so at ease. He finally felt his guard drop. Just for Stiles, just for this one boy, he would try this. Derek moved his hand to cup Stiles’ face and felt him grin against his lips.
When Derek did pull away it was to whisper into Stiles’ ear, “You’re terrifying.”
Stiles just wiggled like he was trying to get closer to Derek’s body which was impossible at this point, “Why?”
“Because the feeling is mutual.”
Stiles breath hitched, and he pulled back to look into Derek’s eyes. He must have seen it there, the hope and determination to make this work, because he smiled. He looked so free and open.
“I’m so glad you were just going through something simple, like a complete mental breakdown because of PTSD. I thought I was going to have to deal with a gay panic or some shit.” Stiles said smiling up at Derek, mischief and laughter in his eyes.
Derek just smirked and leaned down for another kiss, and, when their lips met again, they both felt something finally fit into a space that had been empty for so long. There had been a wound left when their families died, and, while the pack had done its best, they were scarred. With each other though that was okay. The pain would fade, though the scars would remain. They kissed standing in the middle of the living room, breaking off randomly to laugh or just smile at each other.
“Seriously!? I hike all over the woods, have sparkles in weird places, and was blue ALL DAY, and you two are kissing? Seriously!?”
Derek turned and glared at Jackson, while Stiles deadpanned, “Thank you for your tireless and selfless service.”
Derek saw Scott look at Stiles and tilt his head to the side. Stiles nodded, and Scott grinned at them both. He walked over and high-fived Stiles, then turned towards Derek.
“You’re my alpha. I get that, but if you hurt him, I hurt you. Deal?”
Derek nodded with a smirk, then Lydia walked up.
“Same goes for me,” she said with a vicious smile.
Derek’s smirk immediately dropped. Lydia he actually feared. He nodded, and she smiled, before yelling about first shower rights.
When he glanced over at Erica, who was standing with Boyd, she just smiled and said, “If you get a divorce, we all go with Stiles. No pressure.”
Stiles grinned and saluted her, “Oh, yeah!”
Derek turned towards Isaac who had just walked in and blinked.
“Isaac, eyebrows?” Derek said, because, though Isaac’s hair was still there, the area over his eyes was smooth and appeared waxed.
Isaac just turned towards the kitchen muttering about, “Damn fairies and their hair fetishes.”
Stiles and Derek looked at each other, then back at Isaac’s retreating back.
“Alright then.” Stiles said, and placed one more kiss on Derek before grabbing the phone and calling the pizza place.
Some things changed, but most didn’t. Derek never got all the details on the fairies. The pack still had to fight, still had to be led, and still had to be taught. They had problems and life was hard at times. There were times when Derek felt like he was going to break and he got so scared he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Now, though, he had a hand clasped in his and a heart beating in time with his. There was someone offering him support and love however he needed it. He had a partner, a conspirator, a challenger, and a comforter.
Now, he had a love.
Now, in a box, next to a charred picture of Derek’s parents, were pieces of paper with the writing on it is rushed and hasty with a lot of mistakes and large crossed-out sections. These were his most precious belongings.