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Derek slammed the door to his loft shut and stumbled over to the couch. Between finding Erica and spending the rest of the night searching for Cora and Boyd with absolutely zero luck, he was done. So fucking done with everything. He needed a few hours - just a few hours - of quiet, so he could think, sort out the mess of emotions in his head. Sleep would be good too, but he didn’t think he’d be getting any of that any time soon, with today’s massive onslaught of new failures. Failing to realize that Cora was still alive, abandoning her for six years, god. Failing Erica, sassy, strong Erica who was gone now, because of him. Failing Boyd, who was still out there somewhere. Derek just hoped he could find him before the alpha pack or hunters did.
“Derek? You okay?”
Derek growled softly under his breath. Damn it, he’d been so distracted that he hadn’t even noticed Stiles was there, assuming the scent had just been lingering from earlier. He closed his eyes and listened, sighing in relief that there weren’t any other heartbeats around. He was in even less of a mood for Peter’s shit than Stiles’ shit.
“Go home, Stiles. Leave me alone,” Derek said, and he couldn’t even be bothered to get angry, he simply slumped deeper into his couch, eyes still closed in the hope that if he ignored Stiles, he would eventually go away.
With his eyes closed, the rustle of Stiles’ clothes as he fidgeted was almost gratingly loud. “If you want me to, I will. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Well, for a given value of okay, I guess.”
“Why do you even care?” he snapped, annoyed. He even went to the effort of raising his head and turning in Stiles’ direction to glare at him. That answer wasn’t really what he’d expected, but even if it wasn’t the accusations or jokes he’d been bracing for, he wasn’t in the mood for some kind of stupid pity party, either. No, he wasn’t okay, but it didn’t really matter, anyway. There was more important shit going on than Derek’s wellbeing.
“Hey, I may not be very good at that whole, I don’t know, being nice thing. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care, alright?” Stiles’ voice was soft and calm, but he looked kind of hurt that Derek thought he didn’t care. But still, he hesitantly moved closer to the couch in these weird twitches, thumbs rubbing over the second joints of his curled up fingers in some sort of nervous gesture. He finally sat down on the couch, and Derek was fairly sure he’d never seen Stiles with a posture that ramrod straight before. Stiles seemed to always slouch or sprawl. He never perched on the edge of a couch seat, as if he was afraid to put weight on the seat cushion.
It was strange enough that Derek could focus enough on it to not have to think about... well, everything else. He wondered what the point of this conversation was, though. Surely Stiles hadn’t waited at the loft just to ask Derek if he was okay. He fixed Stiles with an expectant stare, and Stiles couldn’t meet his eyes for more than a few split-seconds before his gaze flickered around the room, from nervousness or awkwardness or something else entirely, Derek didn’t know.
“Just... If you need someone to talk to, or someone to sit with in silence, I’m here, okay?” Stiles offered with a small, awkward smile.
Derek huffed in a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You and silence?”
“Ha ha, laugh it up, funnypaws, but this is not an offer many people get. Seriously, consider this a once in a lifetime event.” Stiles’ tongue darted out to wet his lips, and in the dark of early morning light filtering through the dusty windows, it looked almost blood red, so dark it was almost black, even to Derek’s eyes. For a second, he was reminded of teenage musings of how things looked to less keen human eyes, especially in low lighting.
“Actually, that was a lie,” Stiles continued, snapping Derek back from his quick detour down memory lane. He dry swallowed and curled his hands into fists on his thighs, wondering which part was a lie, because he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t even been on guard for a lie. “Which you could probably tell, with your wolfy senses. Huh. Does your wolfy lie detector work on jokes and sarcasm? I mean, if there’s no intent to deceive and no pressure to come up with something plausible, does it still work? Okay, discussion for another time. I had a point before I got distracted, I swear. Point, um, right.”
Stiles paused, his eyes rolling upward and his lips moving subtly as if he was replaying their conversation and trying to figure out where he’d been going before he derailed. He suddenly brightened. “Point!” he exclaimed. “Right. Not actually a once in a lifetime thing. Seriously, if you ever need someone to be silent at you, just let me know. Providing it doesn’t drown again, I have a phone, and I answer 24/7. Well, maybe not in class. Will probably answer if I’m in the bathroom.”
Derek grimaced. He knew teenagers were married to their phones, but there were limits, right? There was still such a thing as phone etiquette, right? “Please don’t. I don’t need to hear that.”
Stiles barked a quick laugh. “Gotcha. I’ll return the call or something instead,” he said with a smile that seemed almost happy, even though Stiles was clearly physically and emotionally exhausted as well, judging by his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes. He could still smile. He’d still taken the time to wonder if someone else - if Derek - was okay. To wonder if there was something he could do.
It made a weird part of Derek’s chest ache, but it didn’t hurt like all his other aches. It was just... tender.
“So?” Stiles said with that soft, exhausted, happy smile, sprawled out on the couch now, and looking more like himself. And even without his usual loquacious manner of speech, Derek still knew what he meant. He managed a slight twitch of his lips himself.
“You can stay.”