And darlin', this is more than anything I felt before
You're everything that I want, but I didn't think I'd find
JULY
“I’m telling you, Derek, this full shift stuff is next level awesome. Can you teach Scott how to do it?”
They were sitting in Derek’s loft a week after the events in La Iglesia, where Derek almost died… again. Stiles had been hovering because for a hot second he thought that was it: that Derek would die before Stiles— before he— before Stiles could say something. The what was still a question inside his own head, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he asked Derek for his library, and began transcribing notes for posterity.
Derek allowed it and most times stayed silent doing his own thing —which wasn’t much anyway— while Stiles typed furiously, only partially distracted by Derek walking around or sitting down with a book as he was today, sitting three feet from Stiles, uncaring, unknowing of what he was doing to Stiles’ heart.
“As I’m pretty sure I told you before, it’s inherited, not taught.”
“Man, that sucks,” Stiles continues perusing the book on Derek’s table, trying to decipher the handwritten annotations along the borders with varying degrees of success.
“For him,” Derek replies, making Stiles crack a smile. Werewolf’s got jokes, he gets it.
Derek read a lot during the time Stiles studied the notes, rarely responding to Stiles' questions, so this must be a good day.
“Yeah, how does it feel for you?” He might as well try to get some answers while he’s at it, and he’s been curious about the full shift ever since that night. “You wanna share a little of that werewolf wisdom?”
Derek raises an eyebrow at that. “For your little side project?”
“Off the record,” he replies, raising a hand to signal a promise to the sky. “Cross my heart and hope to live a long, boring life.”
Derek stays silent, each second stretching between them, pulling them closer. Stiles can feel there’s something in the air when he says, looking directly into Stiles’ eyes. “It really feels like I have… evolved. It feels like I can see things clearly for once…”
He trails off, standing up in a rush, keeping his distance. Stiles wonders what it is that made him move away, if it was Stiles’ heart beating senselessly inside his ribcage. “Maybe you should leave for the day, Stiles.”
“Why?”
“Just. Go, please.” He’s gripping the edge of the table in a way that reminds him of Scott’s first couple of full moons, but he files it away for later.
“What if I want to stay, have you considered that?”
“You don’t know what you want. You’re 18.”
“I thought we were past this,” replies Stiles, frustrated. He closes the book as if it burns him and then slams his laptop shut in the same fashion. As he packs his things, he takes a long look at Derek, at the outline of his profile against the sunset and says, “I saved your ungrateful ass in Mexico. Twice. Could you be at least a little, I don’t know, nice, for a change?”
Stiles walks to the door, about to use all his strength in opening it so he could slam it closed, when Derek calls to him. “You’re still welcome to come tomorrow.”
Anger leaves his body as soon as it came. Stiles half turns to see Derek and finds him just as beautiful as ever, the orange background cutting his silhouette in a stark contrast. He could say something, but what’s the point, anyway? So he just nods in his direction and leaves.
The next day, they go back to not talking and it works for them the entire afternoon. And the afternoons after that until all of their summer is spent working side by side without much in the way of interaction except for the occasional comments here and there when one of them gets up for water or tea.
It becomes so natural that when his final school year starts, he tries to squeeze in his hours of Derek time at the cost of some of Scott’s movie nights. Until one night Stiles arrives from school to find the lights turned off and a note taped to the coffee table.
Cora needs me. I’ll be back soon.
Stiles doesn’t even question it. He just goes to his normal spot, takes a book from Derek’s shelf and sits down to decipher some more handwriting.
SEPTEMBER
Stiles wakes up one day and realizes most of his interactions with Derek have been over text for the last three weeks. That’s the longest they’d been without seeing each other since Mexico and anxiety-ridden claws threaten to grip his heart once again. Before he can become an anxious mess, Stiles texts Derek: u up?
Three minutes later he gets a response: I am. What for?
I just miss you, he wants to say, but he backspaces once, twice, three times until he settles for: I miss your library.
You’re welcome to use it.
I might run into Peter, so I’d rather not
Derek replies with an emoji rolling his eyes that’s more Stiles-like than anything he’s seen before.
I didn’t know you knew how to use those
Go to school, Stiles.
Stiles, now aware that he’s going to be late if he doesn’t move, does just that.
OCTOBER
Things settle down in Beacon Hills in something akin to quiet. There’s no supernatural emergencies like there used to be and the pack bond solidifies around them. Except for the one occasion Liam needs to be tied down during the full moon, nothing happens; supernatural creatures don’t threaten them, no witches sacrifice anyone, and Derek stays away from Beacon Hills.
They still text each other during the week, but the texts have slowed down as well. It is as if the quiet means there’s no reason for them to talk. Maybe once, what it feels like a lifetime ago, that would’ve made sense, but Derek’s changed, he knows this.
One night, when he’s tossing and turning on his bed, he taps a message for Derek: I miss you, big guy, but at the last minute he changes it to we miss your sourly face at the pack meetings.
Less than five minutes later, Derek replies why are you up so late?
I could ask you the same thing, he shoots back.
Cora and I are going hunting
Like deer or something? Stiles even adds a little sick emoji at the end.
The text bubble stays on for a long time before Stiles gets something back. It used to be a Hale tradition when you became an adult. Laura did it for me, I thought I’d do it for Cora.
So you went to hunt deer in the Canadian wilderness?
Just south of
Stiles starts typing but he can’t find an answer to that, so he starts and stops a couple of times before he receives another message from Derek.
Go to sleep, Stiles
He wants to ask why he’s been gone two months already, but for all he knows his hunt is supposed to last all that. He promises himself that he’s going to research deer populations in the US, but he falls asleep not long after his second wikipedia jump.
NOVEMBER
When November hits, Stiles decides that Derek must’ve been playing with him and he’s actually gone for good, but he’s proven wrong the second he steps into his room after school and Derek is lounging on his bed with Stiles’ copy of Ulysses, that wretched book.
“I thought we’d never see you around anymore,” he says by way of greeting. “And take off your shoes if you’re going to be on my bed.”
Stiles’ cheeks burn imagining all the other ways Derek and him could be on a bed together, but instead of acknowledging it, he starts taking his books and assignments out of his bag to study.
“You’re not going to ask anything else?”
“Are you coming to the pack meeting on Friday?”
“Stiles, is it a pack meeting if all you’ll do is sit around and watch a movie?”
“We’re doing this for Malia. She lost many years of good cinema trapped as a coyote.”
Derek chuckles —a chuckle, with his proper, handsome smile— and closes the book, leaving it on Stiles’ bedside table.
“Why are you here, Derek?”
“I missed this town.” He sits up properly and glances up at Stiles from the bed. Stiles wishes he was immune to those green eyes turned on him, but he’s not. “Cora needed some convincing before coming back, though.”
“And then the first thing you did was come here? Have you talked with Scott?”
“I don’t need to talk to Scott, he’s not my Alpha.” He closes his eyes and when he opens them, they’re bright red. “Not anymore, at least.”
“Woah, there, big guy! What was that?”
If Derek’s eyes changed, it meant someone died during his little trip up North.
“We ran into some trouble on the way back.” He doesn’t elaborate though and Stiles can understand why. If the fight was nasty enough for someone to die, he'd skip over the details as well.
“Well, you might wanna warn Scott before he starts investigating this new Alpha in town. He’s gotten pretty good at that, you know? Being an Alpha and all that.”
“Fine. Pick up your phone every once in a while.” He stands up and climbs out the window, but doesn’t jump just yet. “See you tomorrow at my place?”
“I may have plans, ever thought of that?” But Derek’s already jumped and doesn’t even turn around to answer Stiles’ question.
***
The first thing he sees when he comes by the next day is Cora using the loft’s kitchenette and burning something.
“Can’t you guys smell it before it gets burned to a crisp?”
Stiles doesn’t expect an answer, but Cora calls from the kitchen, “oh, I’m sorry I grew up in the wilderness thinking my family was dead and I don’t know how to cook a fucking omelet.”
Derek comes down the stairs dressed comfortably in sweatpants and a comfy blue t-shirt that’s still tight around his fit shoulders. He flops down on the sofa and signals Stiles with his hand. “Don’t mind Cora, she’s been trying to recreate something we ate on our way back somewhere near Salem.”
“Huh, now that’s something I wouldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams. Cora likes to cook.”
“Cora likes it when you shut up,” she stresses from the kitchen.
Stiles sits on the same spot he used to sit all the time and Derek tenses in such a way that Stiles knows it’s about him.
“What?”
“Nothing,” but it comes too quickly and it’s followed by Derek standing up and walking away to stand next to his kitchenette, observing Cora’s work with the eggs.
Stiles shakes his head, setting up his computer and picking up where he left off in his notes over two months ago.
He’s absorbed in this when Cora slides a plate in front of him with an omelet just this side of brown-ish. “Ham and cheese.”
“Thanks.” And he means it, his stomach grumbles at the sight of food.
There’s a moment of mildly awkward silence before Cora speaks again.
“Hey, I know you’re part of Scott’s pack and that you may not want to come anyway, but we’re having a wake tonight.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Derek tense up.
“Why?”
“It’s the night Derek found Laura. He’s not going to ask you, but he’d like it if you were there.”
He’s suddenly assaulted by the memory of going there with Scott looking for a body, the night his best friend was turned and their lives changed forever. He remembers finding only half of a body buried in the Hale property, in a magically protected space where no one else would dig it up, except two dumb teenagers who should’ve known better.
He doesn’t think mentioning it to Cora will be a good idea.
“How do you know this?”
“There’s only so much your Alpha can hide from you when you travel with him for hours on end.”
Stiles is dying to ask what else she’d learned with him, but instead he asks, “what time?”
***
Stiles could’ve sworn that the night they found Laura Hale hadn’t been as cold as this one, but here he is, dressed appropriately for the usual November Californian weather, shivering, sitting down on the steps leading to the old Hale house.
He hears Derek’s car before he sees it and it comes to a stop with a screech.
“What are you doing here?” asks Derek, barely out of the car.
“I figured you’d need a third person to make this a real wake.”
Derek shakes his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. A tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
He closes the door and walks around to meet him at the front steps. “You’re a pain in the ass, did you know that?”
A tiny smile of his own plays at the corner of Stiles’ mouth. Oh, he knows.
JANUARY
“When’s your birthday?”
“Why do you suddenly care?” Derek had taken up sitting on the armchair in front of him instead of sharing the couch, but as the physical distance grew, the more chatty Derek became. Now Stiles spent as much as half of his time at Derek’s just talking, Derek listening intently and replying with his dry humor when Stiles asked something he deemed funny.
“I know all of my friends’ birthdays but yours. How will I know when to give you all my love and gratitude otherwise?” As he says it, he knows his words are dripping sarcasm, but his heart genuinely jumps at the mention of love.
Derek frowns in his direction. “Well, you're almost a month late.”
Stiles quickly counts the days backwards and smiles wide, “Derek, are you a Christmas baby?”
Instead of replying, he goes back to the book he’s reading today —something in Spanish that’s way above Stiles’ understanding of the language.
Stiles’ grin is mischievous now. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re bitter because in the excitement of Christmas, everyone forgets your birthday.”
“You can’t forget it if you don’t know it in the first place.”
Stiles has a moment to feel good about knowing this new piece of information, but it’s quickly drowned by the realization that no one has celebrated Derek’s birthday in who knows how long.
“So,” he says, dragging the word longer than necessary, “what do you want for your birthday?”
“You already gave me a Christmas gift.”
It is true. Stiles called Derek on Christmas and asked him to come over to his place. Scott, Cora and Lydia were also there and they played board games, stuffing themselves silly. Before the Hales left, Stiles gave them two gifts: a cookbook for Cora and a copy of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man for Derek, since he seemed to like Ulysses so badly.
“But it wasn’t your birthday gift, so come on. Spit it out.”
There’s a beat of silence. They’re alone in the loft for the first time in a while and the silence feels heavy somehow.
“I can’t have what I truly want,” Derek says in the end.
“Oh, come on, Derek.”
“I’m serious.”
“What can it be that’s so impossible to get?”
Stiles expects him to say he wants his family back or something equally sobering, not to whisper with barely contained anger, “you, okay?”
Deafening silence fills the room like a live thing, slithering between them until it’s all there is. He knows, without knowing how he knows, that Derek is listening to his heartbeat.
Before he thinks it through, the words are out of his mouth. “You can have me if that’s what you want.”
Derek sits up straight. “Don’t say that.”
“Say what?”
“You know.”
Derek stands up, dropping his book on the table, and paces in front of him, agitation making his eyes flash red. Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t find it hot.
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not, damn it! Stop using your werewolf abilities to listen to my heart if you’re not going to do it at the proper times.” He stands up, to be on the same level as Derek and tries to reach out for him, but Derek takes his arm away. “If you don’t believe that I like you, then that’s on you.”
Derek doesn’t even turn to look at him.
Stiles, feeling awkward and unwanted, decides he’s still got a little pride in him, gathers his stuff up and leaves.
He doesn’t visit the loft the next day, or the day after that, or the week after that.
FEBRUARY
Stiles never thought that he’d be so hung up on someone who was not Lydia Martin. For the longest time in his life he was sure that they were destined to be together forever. Now, though, he knows better.
The texts between Derek and him stopped right after their argument in the loft and Stiles realized that for the last few months, Derek was the first person he’d text every morning and the last he’d text past midnight when Stiles was still awake stuck in a Wikipedia dive.
If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said they were acting like a couple before Stiles knew that was a possibility.
He thought his crush on Derek was one-sided, that with enough time it would shrink in size and evolve into something he could fit into a beautiful friendship. Now it’s all he thinks about at all hours of the day, but, because Derek seems intent on maintaining the distance, Stiles doesn’t bridge it either.
Stiles distracts himself by immersing in his last semester of high school with the intent to save his GPA and maybe put some distance between him and Beacon Hills in the near future.
APRIL
When he opened the door, his first words were tinted with worry. “What are you doing here? Did something happen to Derek?” Then he notices the pile of tupperware in Cora’s hands. “What’s that?”
“Wow.” Cora grins mischievously. “Not even a ‘hi, Cora, lovely to see you again’ after all this time?”
“Hi, Cora. Lovely to see you. Wanna come in and tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on, but let me in anyway. Where’s the kitchen?”
“Over here,” he says, leading the way.
Cora leaves the pile of tupperware on the counter and then turns around to face him. “Alright, here’s what you can freeze and what’s better eaten tonight.”
“What am I eating? And why? That would be helpful as well.”
She rolls her eyes in a way so similar to Derek that his heart tightens for a second.
“It’s venison. For your birthday.”
Stunned, Stiles says, “my birthday was last week.”
“We only caught it last night,” Cora replies as if he should’ve known this.
“We only— you mean, you hunted, prepped and cooked a deer? For my birthday?” Still lost, he frowns at Cora. “I thought it was a Hale pack tradition.”
“Sweet Jesus you are not the brightest star in the county, are you?”
“Hey!”
“I’m just saying, that you’ve got it spelled out for you, Stiles. I’m just the delivery service.”
Cora starts making her way to the door, but Stiles cuts in line before she gets to the door.
“Is this some sort of apology? Because I’m pretty sure you’re not the offending Hale.”
“Look, Stiles, my brother is ridiculously smitten with you and if I have to hear anything else about it, I’ll lose my mind.”
As she leaves, Stiles says —not bothering to yell, knowing it will carry for the werewolf’s ears— “well, it’s too late. I’m seeing someone.”
“Sure. Tell him that. See you,” Cora yells back, dismissively.
She’s gone before Stiles can say anything else.
***
[04.15.13 17:00]
why is your sister delivering a deer
[04.15.13 17:02]
I didn’t know if you’d open the door for me
[04.15.13 17:05]
you’re ridiculous
we’re still friends that didn’t change
[04.15.13 17:07]
Friends
Ok
I can be friends
[04.15.13 17:11]
I’m seeing someone
Stiles doesn’t get an answer to his last text, but the two checkmarks next to it tell him it’s been delivered and read.
It only stings a little.
JUNE
Stiles is busy looking over the Classic’s section of the bookstore when he first feels the prickling sensation of being watched.
He turns around just in time to see Derek turn around and duck behind a bookshelf. Stiles, who’s feeling masochist today, walks to where he saw him disappear and finds him leaning against the bookshelf with a book in his hand.
“I didn’t think you were a Camus man,” he says with a nod to the book he’s holding.
“I’ve only ever read The Stranger, so I wouldn’t know.”
Stiles wants to smile, but the undercurrent of tension left between them since the night at Derek’s loft keeps him from doing so. He’s no longer mad —if he ever was to begin with—, he thinks he understands where Derek is coming from, but it doesn’t mean that weeks of silence will be solved after a chance encounter in a bookstore.
“How have you been?” he asks, genuinely interested in hearing from him.
“Alright. You?”
“I’m doing fine. Great, even. I got into Berkeley.”
Silence becomes heavy within a few seconds. Stiles wishes he could go back to the easy companionship they’d had before Stiles said he liked the man, but that’s probably lost forever.
“Congratulations, Stiles. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks, man. Moving will be a pain, probably, but it’s fine, I’m ready to start a new life away from this supernatural beacon.”
Derek frowns, “how’s your date taking it?”
Date?
Ah, right. He hasn’t spoken to Derek for too long.
“Caitlin and I are not together anymore. Haven’t been for a while. It wasn’t serious.” He doesn’t know who he’s reassuring with that, if Derek or himself.
The corner of Derek’s mouth twitches in an almost smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, no, it’s okay. It was more of a fling than anything.”
Silence fills their shared space and Stiles notices how close he is to Derek, less than 3 feet away even when leaning against the bookshelf opposite to him. For a moment, Stiles is taken back to all the times he and Derek sat next to each other and the air crackled between them.
“See you around, Stiles,” says Derek, interrupting his thoughts. He leaves the book on the shelf behind him and walks past Stiles, close enough to reach out, never touching him though.
Yeah, Stiles might not be getting over his crush this century.
JULY
It’s been weeks since he last saw Derek —and he thinks he might get over him sometime soon— when the Fae attack them. For the Fae though, it’s less of an attack and more of a game. They just want to chew them and spit them back out after they’ve had their fun.
Stiles thinks it’s only his luck to spot the changeling that had been following them around the forest where they’d gathered for their weekly pack night out.
When Scott noticed, he demanded the changeling leave them alone, but instead of leaving, the creature changed to wear Allison’s face and Scott lost it, attacking the creature before it had a chance to speak.
Isaac howls and Kira’s eyes turn orange, getting ready for a fight.
“Scott! No!” Yells someone from behind the changeling. It sounded an awful lot like Derek.
The scream that follows makes everyone turn to Lydia, even Scott, and the changeling, feeling outnumbered and trapped, charges against him.
They fall together in a tangle of limbs, growling, when Stiles spots Derek and Cora running into the clearing, wolfed out and ready to fight. There’s a screech when Scott gets a hit in, loud enough to make Stiles recoil. Lydia screams in terror when something grabs her from the back and before Stiles knows it, he’s knocked to the ground by something jumping him from behind.
He hears more than he sees the fight around him, more of the Fae coming to aid the injured changeling that got Scott, whatever creature is pushing him to the ground has their claws in Stiles’ hair, pushing him to the ground.
As suddenly as the creature trapped him, he feels the weight lift from his back and Stiles catches a glimpse of a big black wolf going after the creature. Lydia, still pinned down next to him screams, a banshee scream loud enough to be heard in the next county.
It chills Stiles to the bone, knowing it means someone could die here.
He stands up, looks around at the fight and sees Scott and Isaac subdue another changeling, Cora and Kira both standing over the bodies of the Fae that are dissolving into a glittery mass at their feet.
Scott charges against the creature pinning Lydia down and takes it out easily, tearing it apart with his strong werewolf jaws.
Stiles spots Derek, fully wolfed out, coming back to the clearing, walking at a leisurely pace, shifting back to human in all his naked glory. Stiles makes himself look anywhere else but him and that’s how he sees the changeling that started it all running at Derek at full speed.
He doesn’t think, adrenaline making the decision for him, and throws himself at the changeling to stop him from touching Derek. They stumble, rolling around together until the changeling gains the upper hand sitting on top of him. It opens its mouth filled with pointy teeth and unhinges its jaws to bite Stiles, but before he can do anything, someone —not someone, Derek— claws at its throat, ripping the creature’s head off.
The creature starts to become slime on top of him almost immediately.
Derek’s face is twisted in anger and pain in a way that Stiles has never seen before. “Are you okay?”
Stiles takes stock of himself and finds nothing is missing. Derek helps him up and before he knows it, there are lips on his mouth and Stiles is so glad he brushed his teeth before leaving the house.
He’s stunned for all of three seconds and Derek begins to pull away, but Stiles’ hands cup his face and bring him back into the kiss, desperately thirsty, and Stiles lets himself enjoy it before Derek does something stupid like pulling away.
“Don’t ever do something like that again,” says Derek, when he comes up for air, his forehead touching Stiles’. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“Okay,” he replies, kissing him again and again until Scott’s catcalls bring them back into the real world.
They have a lot to talk about, and the way ahead might be littered with obstacles, but together? Together they can do anything.