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Derek tossed the duffel bags into the bedroom and flicked on the fans. He'd had someone come out and clean up the beach house and air it out, but it still smelled a little too much like cleaning supplies and stale air for his tastes.
He went back out to the main room, where Stiles stood between the living room and the kitchen, surveying the house with his hands shoved in his back pockets. "I can't believe you have a beach house sitting out here that no one knows about."
Derek shrugged. "Mom and Dad had a lot of property, and Laura and I didn't exactly go through everything before we left for New York. I just knew about this one because we took family vacations here."
Stiles nodded. "So, what, you're saying you could have a Hale house in every state and you probably don't know about it?"
Derek snorted a laugh. "Yeah, probably."
Stiles shook his head, but he was grinning. The sight loosened something in Derek's chest.
"Maybe next time Dad tells you to take me out of town, you can drag me to a ski resort or something," Stiles said.
"I'll see what I can dig up."
***
The sheriff had come to Derek three weeks ago, tense-shouldered and grim-mouthed.
"He hasn't gotten a decent night's sleep in months," he'd said without any preamble. "He needs to get out of here, and I can't take him. Can you?"
Derek hadn't hesitated. "Of course."
It looked as though a weight had dropped off the sheriff's shoulders. He wiped a shaking hand over his face. "Thank God. I can't take off more than three days right now, and he needs..."
Derek understood, without Sheriff Stilinski having to say anymore. Stiles would need longer than that.
"I'll take care of him," he'd said.
The sheriff had clapped him on the shoulder. "Thank
you, son."
***
So Derek had looked up the beach house they'd used to go to for two weeks every summer and called someone to get it ready. Now he and Stiles were here for...well, for as long as they needed to be. Until someone called and told them to come back or until Stiles had to go to college, whichever came first.
Or until Stiles asked to go home.
***
They went to the grocery store and stocked up. Stiles muttered about going grocery shopping on vacation, but Derek tossed a bag of chips at him and told him to pick up something for dessert.
Stiles got four gallons of ice cream. Derek raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word.
Derek slapped together some roast beef sandwiches for dinner, because neither of them felt like cooking anything intensive after the three-hour drive, and afterward they went out for a walk on the beach.
He'd always loved the beach: the smell of salt in the air, the gritty sand in between his toes, the way the moon glistened on the dark water and the sound of the waves crashing on the beach. It made him want to throw back his head and howl in celebration.
It was hard to tell how Stiles felt about it. He'd spent most of the day and the drive talking about inconsequential things, which made him sound normal but did nothing for the bitter tinge of stress and paranoia that colored his scent. Now, though, he was quieter, and the bitter smell was slowly ebbing away, replaced by something else Derek couldn't quite identify.
"You didn't have to bring me out here," Stiles finally said, eyes fixed on the star-speckled horizon.
"I know. I wanted to."
"Why'd you leave?" Stiles blurted out.
Honestly, Derek was surprised he hadn't heard the question before now. "Because the town was suffocating me," he said honestly. "I needed to get out before it killed me." He took a deep breath. "My only regret is that I didn't take you with me then."
Stiles's lips twitched up in a wry smile. "I wouldn't have gone with you then."
Derek nodded. He understood. "I'm glad you did this time."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Did I really have a choice?"
"Of course you did." Derek put his hands on Stiles's shoulders and turned him so they were facing each other, so Stiles would see how serious he was. "Stiles, you always have a choice. About everything. I will never make you do something you don't want to."
Stiles chewed on his lower lip. "What if I wanted to go home right now?"
"Do you?"
Stiles glared at him for a moment, and then his face crumpled and he dropped his gaze to the beach. His shoulders shook.
Derek gently pulled him into a hug, and Stiles clung to him like a lifeline. "We don't have to go back," Derek said. "Not until you're ready. And even then, it can just be for a visit."
"My dad—"
"Will be much less stressed knowing that you're sleeping through the night," Derek said.
Stiles laughed wetly into his shoulder. "He'll stop eating vegetables."
"Give the man some credit," Derek said. "Also, I asked Melissa to watch his diet."
Stiles hugged him harder. "Thank you," he said fiercely.
Derek closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of the ocean and Stiles. "Of course."
"I think I'm in love with you," Stiles whispered, a quiet confession Derek almost didn't hear over the ocean.
He turned his head to he could press a kiss into Stiles's hair. "I'm a little in love with you, too."
A lot in love, really, but they could talk about that later. Right now, Derek was content just to hold Stiles under the light of the quarter moon.
"Want to go back and split a half-gallon of ice cream?" Stiles asked.
Derek smiled. "Come on. We can sit on the back porch and watch the waves while we eat."
"Sounds perfect," Stiles said.
For the first time in months, he sounded like he meant it.