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It started subtly, right from the beginning. Something about the human made Derek instinctively reach for him, a need to protect. If he had to pinpoint an exact moment, he could now say it might have been the chop-my-arm-off-or-I'll-die day. Or when he stood between Peter and the teenager when they realised he was the alpha. But the one that truly cemented it was the pool incident. The way the werewolf's instincts automatically shifted into protection mode, turning his back to the enemy in an attempt to keep the human safe and how Stiles had saved him in the end was more than enough to make Derek notice the thin thread of a pack bond.
Derek tried to ignore the pull because he was terrified of humans, and this one seemed completely oblivious of the tug in his gut that formed, spread, and kept growing stronger every time they saved each other.
If it weren’t for their bond Derek might have never woken up from the Darach’s love spell. Still, Stiles had no idea how his feelings overflowed through it and how the smell of his desperation and anxiety was what made the werewolf break the illusion in his mind and shift.
The Nogitsune was the biggest challenge, he had no problem suggesting to kill the host until it became clear that host was Stiles. Instead, he sought a way out and protected Stiles in the meantime.
When Derek left, both times, he did it thinking it was for the best. That the bond would wither and eventually disappear. But it never did. Derek took care of it because it was special, in a certain way, it kept him sane.
The most amazing thing was that the pack bond was a two-way street, and on some unconscious level, Stiles was keeping it too.
-.-
The moment Stiles left for college Derek Hale came back to town. He needed to take care of his pack, and that extended to the Sheriff. Having lost all his loved ones he could empathize with Stiles's worries for his only living relative. Besides the man had been good to Derek, feeding into the bond as well, unknowingly.
So, Derek bought a house in Beacon Hills and quickly became the go-to guy for the older Stilinski to ask questions about the supernatural and and exchange thoughts with. The bond with the Sheriff became stronger too; it fed off of shared lunches, sleepless nights trying to keep everyone alive, watching baseball when things calmed down, and of course talking about Stiles.
The younger Stilinski was surprised by the "sudden" friendship between Derek and his father, completely unaware it wasn't sudden at all.
-.-
The Sheriff department of Beacon Hills was doing a great job with Parrish and other supernaturals joining the force. They did most of the job while all Derek shared was knowledge, and the incidents after the first year of working together reduced a lot.
The last case had nothing to do with the supernatural, but Derek decided to tag along and that's how he ended up jumping between the Sheriff and a hail of bullets. The werewolf was unharmed, of course, because they were simple bullets and the small gang of thieves that tried to settle in their town was disbanded immediately after.
He knew Stilinski would never tell his son about his close call with death, so Derek didn´t think much about it until the beginning of summer. The change in the bond came out of nowhere and it took Derek by surprise how palpable it became, impossible to ignore.
-.-
Stiles didn't bother to knock, using the spare key he’d wheedled out of Cora the moment he learned Derek was staying in town. He burst into the kitchen, the screen door slamming behind him with a cheerful thud.
“You saved my dad,” Stiles declared, his voice a weird mix of accusation and gratitude.
Derek, predictably, didn't flinch. He just kept stirring the pot on the stove, a deep, earthy smell of salsa filling the air. He had been waiting for the human since he’d heard the rackety engine of the Jeep three blocks away, a sound now as familiar as his own heartbeat.
Stiles immediately started pacing, his hands already flying as he ticked off a mental list. “You live here now. You have a job as a consultant. You bought a whole house!” Stiles's gesticulations grew wilder, his arms windmilling as he moved around the room. “It’s nice. You have furniture, dude. Furniture!”
Derek finally looked up, his expression carefully blank. “Are you staying for dinner?”
Stiles staggered to a halt mid-pace, one hand frozen in the air near his head. “Are you… inviting me?”
Derek raised one dark, perfectly sculpted eyebrow, the universal Hale sign for are you serious? “You make it sound as if I’ve never invited you to a meal before.”
“You never did,” Stiles shot back instantly, crossing his arms. The sudden stillness of his body only made the rapid, defensive beat of his heart more audible to Derek.
“Yes, I did.”
“Nah-ah. I would remember that. It would be a whole thing. I’d probably document it.”
“Evidently, you wouldn’t, because it happened and you didn't. Sit down.” Derek turned back to the stove.
They argued back and forth for the next ten minutes while the wolf finished cooking. It was a comfortable exchange of sarcastic back-and-forth, with a few growled retorts and more dramatic eye rolls and huffs than normal.
When the food was ready, Stiles helped set the table. He put down the two mismatched plates onto the solid oak kitchen table Derek had bought. It had four chairs, after all. He had a house now, a nicely furnished one.
The human got distracted by the food, complimenting Derek´s cooking between moans and sounds that made the wolf´s ears turn red.
-.-
Stiles scraped the last remnants of salsa from his plate, his fork sounding loud in the suddenly quiet kitchen. He avoided Derek’s gaze, focusing intensely on a spot of sauce he was pretending to clean.
“So,” Stiles began, his voice surprisingly small, "are we ever gonna talk about it?"
Thankfully, Derek had finished eating. He set his fork and prepared for what was coming with a guarded expression.
Meeting Stiles’s gaze took a lot of effort, “I didn't think you wanted to.”
Stiles flinched as if struck. His eyes went wide with disbelief washing over his face, which was confusing, after all he was the one who initiated the conversation. “So… You’re not denying it? You won’t tell me I’m imagining things?”
Derek frowned, his brow furrowing deeper than usual. “Why would you think that?”
“I, I thought…” Stiles trailed off, his cheeks quickly flaring bright red. He broke eye contact, his hand shooting up to rub the back of his neck nervously, a tell as familiar to Derek as his own scent. "I guess I really thought I was. Imagining things."
Derek felt a sudden, profound ache in his chest, right where the bond was thrumming with Stiles’s vulnerability and fear. The human could face an Alpha pack with nothing but sarcasm and a bat, yet he was terrified of acknowledging his own feelings.
Sometimes Derek forgot how much time they had lost, how young they both still were despite the years of constant trauma.
Derek's face softened, the edges around his eyes easing. He lifted his hand and placed it flat against his chest, a subtle, grounding gesture. “You’re not,” he confessed, his voice dropping to a low, steady rumble.
Stiles’ head snapped up. He met Derek’s eyes, his mouth slightly parted in shock. “So… You feel…things too?” The sudden tremor in Stiles’s voice instantly pushed Derek into protective mode. He needed to eliminate the anxiety now.
“Yes, Stiles. I do feel it. For longer than I care to admit.” Derek leaned forward, speaking with a sudden, forceful honesty. “You know I wasn't in a good place when we first met. And things kept trying to kill us, and thinking Scott was your Alpha I couldn't do or say anything to get in the way. I never thought to say anything, not for years. But no matter how far or how long we spent apart, I still felt it.”
He had to stop to take a deep breath. This was harder than fighting monsters.
Meanwhile Stiles just kept looking, his big, round, brown eyes wide and unwavering. The tangled mess of emotions through the bond was nearly overwhelming with shock, disbelief but above all hope.
“Years?” Stiles whispered, the single word thin and fragile.
Sighing in surrender Derek leaned further across the table. He extended his hand, palm up, and waited. It was a silent request for permission, if Stiles agreed to it, Derek would reach out the only way he knew how.
Stiles stared at the offering, his breath hitching as he processed the meaning behind the gesture, physical touch was an integral part of a pack, especially to provide comfort and show love. His fingers trembled slightly, but he didn't hesitate for long, placing his palm into Derek’s.
The moment their skin connected Derek felt a shock of deep, calming relief. He stood up to slowly pull Stiles out of his chair and into his arms. Then, he buried his face in Stiles's familiar hair, his large body relaxing instantly as the tension that had held him taut for years finally began to bleed away.
“I never thought you’d feel it too,” Derek murmured against Stiles’s temple.
“Oh, God. You have no idea.” Stiles squeezed him tighter, clinging to the back of his blue henley.
They stayed there, clinging to each other for a long time.
Eventually they disentangled enough to move to the living room where Stiles decided they should cuddle on the couch to compensate for the lost time. Derek was amazed at how their bodies slotted together with unnerving perfection while the muted sounds of some documentary played on the TV.
For the first time in years, Derek felt safe, he felt anchored.
-.-
As expected their relationship changed and now they touched a lot. It was something Derek had been neglecting, a side of him that he chained deep inside after he lost his family. Even with Laura he had been distant. But with Stiles? He could finally give in to his need. More often than not, Derek found himself keeping an arm around Stiles' shoulder while they watched movies, or placing a reassuring hand against Stiles’s back when they walked around the preserve.
At first, Derek braced himself for Stiles to be awkward or hesitant, maybe retreating after the intensity and the wolf was ready to give him space. But the human was just as tactile, if not more so. Stiles seemed to operate on a base layer of frantic energy, and physical contact with Derek acted as an immediate stabilizer. When they'd settle onto the couch, Stiles’s head would be tucked under Derek’s chin or his leg would be thrown casually over Derek’s lap.
The subtle, constant contact was an anchor for both of them. They hugged when they parted and Derek was allowed to scent Stiles till his heart's content, and it was the quietest and safest Derek had felt since he was a child.
-.-
Being away once Stiles returned to Berkeley was hard. The silence in his house was deafening without the familiar, anxious sound of the human’s heartbeat nearby. They talked on the phone or video chat daily, sometimes for hours. Derek would listen as Stiles recounted his day in fast-paced, tangential detail.
Sometimes, Derek wouldn't even speak, letting Stiles's steady, rambling voice fill the empty space until the human would finally fall asleep and he would stay on the line just a little more to listen to his heart.
It wasn't the same as having Stiles slotted against his side, but it was enough to keep the bond warm and solid until the next visit.
-.-
It was Christmas morning, and Stiles had been buzzing with nerves all through breakfast. They were at the Stilinski house, and Derek could smell and feel the anxiety and hopeful anticipation radiating off the human in waves.
“So, Dad. Um…” He started, picking at his hands, then placed one on Derek's. The Alpha immediately threaded his fingers through Stiles's. It was a simple, comforting gesture, and the scent of Stiles's nerves calmed instantly.
Stiles had mentioned wanting to talk to his dad about them. Derek had been confused, thinking Stiles had already explained their status as pack mates, but agreed to do it together.
After taking a deep breath, Stiles said “Derek and I are dating.”
Dating.
Dating.
Dating.
The word dropped like an anvil in Derek's mind. He was confused by this revelation. They were dating?
“Oh, okay. Uhm… just.” The Sheriff’s hand, which had been lifting a mug of coffee, paused midair. He slowly set the mug down, his expression completely deadpan. “Stay safe.”
Dating.
Dating.
Dating.
Wait, since when were they dating?
“Ew, Dad! It´s nothing like that!” Stiles recoiled, pulling his hand away from Derek’s to flail his arms dramatically. “We haven't even kissed yet! We are too messed up to just go in and ruin it with sex. It's not as if any of us has a good record about relationships. But of course we want to, right?” He whipped his head toward Derek, eyes wide and hopeful, a frantic, high-pitched note in his voice.
Kissing, sex, Stiles? Derek's gaze snapped to those lush lips. They looked so soft. The smell of pure, undeniable yearning hit him hard. Stiles's momentary uncertainty faded, replaced by a small, excited smile, a look that utterly melted the internal panic.
The Sheriff coughed deliberately, obviously uncomfortable by the conversation. He picked up his coffee mug again, rotating it slowly on the coaster, still refusing to make eye contact. “I´m still here.”
“In retrospect,” Stiles muttered, shrinking slightly in his chair, “I think we should have talked about this before coming here. But anyway. Dad, don’t worry, we are taking things slow.”
“I see that,” the Sheriff said flatly, taking a long sip of coffee. “I´ll be in the living room if you need me.”
Dating.
Stiles had thought the talk about pack bonds was a talk about romantic feelings. Rewinding to that particular conversation, maybe it was confusing for a human, and Derek couldn't remember saying the words pack bond, which ok…
In hindsight the confusion was easy to make. But now, how was he supposed to even begin to explain?
“Ok, that was awkward as hell.” Stiles laughed. “I guess we should have talked about this before introducing you as my boyfriend.”
Derek felt their bond hummed with quiet happiness from both sides, and how could he not be happy? Stiles was holding his hand again, his thumb rubbing small circles on Derek's knuckles, his smile blinding. Derek’s entire body was humming. He couldn't find a single logical reason to correct him. He just squeezed back, his internal Alpha giving a delighted growl.
“I love you.” The words came out of his lips without a shadow of doubt.
Stiles gasped, his eyes widening before the surprise melted away, replaced by fondness and certainty. “I love you too, sourwolf.”
Their first kiss was soft and warm, the smell of breakfast still lingering in the air. Sunbeams sneaking through the kitchen window, their bond singing between them, and Derek knew that no matter what happened from now on, he finally found his home.