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The first time Derek kissed him, Stiles was barefoot.
Derek was kissing him in the middle of his room, in the middle of the night and he wasn't wearing shoes or socks. He could feel the tips of Derek's shoes brushing against his toes. Out of everything, that seemed the most profound.
***
Stiles kept his window open every day after things began to calm down. He let the sounds from outside - crickets chirping, dogs barking, tires rolling across asphalt - lull him to sleep at night. He sat at his desk, bare feet tapping a random beat against the carpet, as he did homework and research with a light breeze sweeping through the room. Days passed, nothing important happened, and Stiles felt like he was waiting for something.
He didn't know what it was exactly he was waiting for until it dropped into his room in the shape of a leather-clad werewolf.
He was surprised to find that he wasn't at all surprised by Derek's sudden appearance. Apparently he'd become accustomed to werewolves randomly popping up wherever he happened to be with no warning whatsoever. He couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. Either way, he swiveled his chair around and crossed his arms.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Hale?" Stiles asked with a smirk playing on his lips as he tapped his nails on the surface of his desk.
"Nothing," Derek answered, scowling and pursing his lips. His head fell forward until his chin was almost brushing against his chest. He was either studying his shoes like he was going to suddenly be quizzed on them or - yeah, he was definitely avoiding making eye contact with Stiles. "I just wanted to - I'm leaving."
"You're leaving," Stiles repeated, mouth falling slack as he took in the tense lines of Derek's frame. He pushed against the arm rests on his chair until he was standing. "As in going away from Beacon Hills?"
"Yes."
"For how long?" The question fell from Stiles' mouth before he could stop it and as it did, he abruptly realized that he wanted to know - like the information was paramount to his life in some way.
Derek looked up then, obviously surprised. Had he come to tell Stiles he was leaving expecting that Stiles would be happy about it? Would be all 'Okay then, see you never'? Yeah, sometimes Stiles was an asshole but he wouldn't save someone's life - repeatedly, mind you - if he didn't care about them at least a little bit.
"I'm not coming back, Stiles," Derek confessed, voice thick with an emotion that Stiles didn't know how to describe. "I've lost too much here and I'm not coming back."
Stiles was expecting it. He really was. After everything that had happened - Erica and Boyd dying, Isaac joining Scott, Derek losing his Alpha status, and whatever it was that he'd had with Jennifer - he knew that Derek had no reason to stay in Beacon Hills. And he had even expected that he'd be sad to see him - and Cora - go. What he didn't expect was his heart to literally ache at the thought of never seeing Derek again. The thing was, after all these months dealing with his best friend becoming a werewolf and all of these people that he'd never expected coming into his life, he actually started to like most of them - he'd started to like Derek. And maybe - no, he couldn't think about that right now. Not when his heart was squeezing up in his chest and tears were prickling the corners of his eyes.
"Cora and I have already packed up everything we had and we're going to head north; probably end up staying somewhere in Canada," Derek continued as if he hadn't heard the erratic beat of Stiles' heart. "There's a pack - my parents used to be close to them and they took Laura and I in before we moved to New York. We might join them."
"That's - that's friggin' great, Derek," Stiles managed to say, forcing the words around the 'Stop's and the 'Don't go's that were forming in the back of his throat. He didn't have the right to say those things, not to Derek.
"Thanks."
Silence overwhelmed them then; it filled Stiles' room and surrounded him until he thought he was going to implode from the pressure. He blinked rapidly and tried so hard to look away from Derek but he couldn't. If it was the last time that he would see him, he was going to look his fill.
"Stiles," Derek started but halted when Stiles shook his head. His lips were drawn into a thin frown, brows furrowed as he looked at the younger man. "I didn't think you'd-"
That was all it took for Stiles to break from his false sense of calmness; the accusing tone of Derek's voice and what Stiles knew he had been about to say.
"You didn't think what? That I'd mind if someone else I care about walks out of my life?" Stiles wanted to raise his voice, wanted to shout at Derek but he couldn't. He settled for harsh whispers instead. "My mom, Erica, Boyd, Heather. I almost lost Scott too. And my dad. You thought I'd be okay with that?"
Derek surged forward into Stiles' space, hissing out, "I didn't think you'd care about me."
The words brought Stiles to a sudden stop, the fight draining from his body in one fell swoop. Derek was close enough to touch now, his body radiating a warmth that filled the space between them. Their eyes met in the dim light from Stiles' desk lamp and Stiles' breath left his body in a rush. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and he could feel Derek's breath as it escaped his body. His tongue flicked out, running over his bottom lips, and he gasped when Derek's eyes followed the movement.
Barely a second passed before Stiles fell forward, letting gravity and whatever magnetism that went from his body to Derek's lead him where he needed to go.
Derek's lips were soft. They were so soft and they had touched his first. Derek was kissing Stiles in the middle of his bedroom, in the middle of the night, and it wasn't Stiles' first kiss but it felt like something important. There was barely a trace of tongue, running along the swell of his bottom lip and pressing until Stiles parted his lips just a little more. And - Oh, Stiles thought when Derek's bottom lip slid between his. Oh.
Stiles wasn't counting seconds anymore but it didn't feel like it had been long enough when Derek pulled away, mouth lingering. His forehead was sticky with sweat where he rested it against Stiles'.
"Goodbye, Stiles."
***
"Hey, Dad! I'm home," Stiles called as he dropped his backpack on the coffee table. He plopped down onto the couch and set his feet up on the table, shoes brushing against his backpack. "What's for dinner?"
"No 'How was work?' or even an 'I love you' for your old man - you go straight for asking about the food," the Sheriff shouted from the kitchen with a hint of laughter in his voice. "We're having barbeque chicken and mac n' cheese. Does this please you?"
"Aye aye, captain!" Stiles shouted and then laughed. "How was work?"
"Now he wants to know, after he's found out if he's going to be fed or not."
"Daaaad," Stiles groaned.
"It was fine. Same ol', same ol'," His dad answered. "Oh hey, a post card came for you in the mail today. It's on the table."
"Yeah? Who's it from?" Stiles asked, reaching for the stack of mail he hadn't noticed before.
"Dunno. It didn't have a return address."
Stiles leafed through bills and sales papers before he found the post card tucked between the envelope from the electric company and coupons for the fast food joint his dad liked to go to during work. It had a forest landscape with a giant moose right in the middle. Stiles snorted as he flipped it over to read the back.
'The moon looks exactly the same from here - D'
***
The first time Derek kissed Stiles was also the last.