won't you give me tonight (and the rest of your life?)

Summer 2013: Stiles

It started with an exchange after their graduation party. 

Stiles had been drinking as if there was no tomorrow —the alcohol was wasted on the wolves anyway— and eventually needed to sit down because the world was spinning too much around him. Lydia, whose tiny body can keep the alcohol in better than Stiles, sits down with him and asks him how he’s doing.

“Me? I’m feeling fantastic. Brilliant, even,” he slurs.

“God, you’re so drunk. Give me the keys.”

“I can drive.” But even as he says so, the world spins around him, his vision blurring at the edges.

“No, you can’t. One of the wolves will drive you. Wait here.”

Minutes pass with Stiles slouched on the couch in the backyard, people passing him by —saying their hellos or goodbyes, Stiles can’t be sure— when a shadow stands over him. Stiles looks up to see Derek standing there with a frown.

“Give me your keys,” he deadpans.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

“I wasn’t.”

Stiles tilts his head to the side as if he cannot understand what’s happening, which he isn’t. “Then why are you here?”

“Lydia called.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Come on. Keys. Now,” he growls as if he’s mad about having to drive Stiles.

“You don’t have to do it, I can take a lil’ nap here and drive myself home in the morning.” Stiles thinks that’s enough to get the wolf to go, but instead, Derek reaches down and pulls Stiles up to his feet in a swift motion.

“If you don’t want me to carry you, then give me the keys, Stiles.”

“Maybe I want you to carry me,” he says.

“You’re drunk.”

“I thought”—he hiccups— “I thought that was already established.”

Stiles fumbles with his pockets until he gets his keys and gives them to Derek, whose scowl has evolved into a more neutral face. They walk through the crowd celebrating at Lydia’s, and Stiles waves goodbye to the wolves playing beer-pong with their classmates.

Derek drives him home in silence and Stiles slumps against the door, closing his eyes for a second, but the next thing he knows, Derek is gently shaking him awake by the shoulder.

“Do you wanna come in?” Stiles asks.

“What for?”

“I don’t know, didn’t the guys call you to make sure I’m okay? Maybe I’ll fall down the stairs if no one’s there to see me going up.”

“Fine.”

Derek turns off the ignition and gets out of the jeep, making it to Stiles’ door. Stiles stumbles when he gets out, but Derek catches him before he faceplants on the concrete.

“You’re a mess, did you know that?”

Stiles thinks the best answer is no answer, so he lets himself be guided by the arm until he’s safely upstairs. He changes his t-shirt for a fresh one and sits down on the bed, looking up at Derek still leaning against his door.

“Hey, Derek?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you wanna stay?”

“You’re already safe and sound. Do you want me to tuck you in as well?”

“Ha ha, very funny. I was just wondering…”

“What?”

Stiles thinks this would be a good time to say I have a crush on you, so he can play it off as being drunk if it doesn’t go well, but he doesn’t want to. He wants Derek to know it’s real, even if there’s no way he reciprocates those feelings.

Instead, he just says, “nothing, I forgot what I was going to say.”

“It figures. See you around, Stiles.”

“Wait. Derek!” Derek stops by the window, one leg already out. He looks at Stiles as if he can’t be bothered. “I’m leaving for Quantico in two weeks. Can we do something as a pack before that?”

“I’ll think about it,” he says, then jumps out the window and into the night without saying goodbye.

The official pack nights weren’t as often as they used to be since there was no reason to hold them so frequently when things calmed down around Beacon Hills. But they were still a big gathering when they happened. Since Derek’s house in the preserve was still being remodeled, Lydia’s became their main hub to hang out. Besides, Lydia’s place has a pool and no one could object to that.

This would be the last night they’d spend as a pack for a while since Stiles is leaving for Quantico in two days and the rest of the pack is going to college in different cities in the following weeks. The only ones who are not leaving town are Derek and Cora.

There’s alcohol and weed and a general feeling of nostalgia as if they know that things will never be the same after this particular night.

“Did you tell him?” Erica asks.

“Tell who what?”

“Derek, obviously.” Stiles feels himself blushing at that. He hasn’t said anything to anyone about his crush, so he doesn’t understand why Erica is so sure there’s something to say.

“There’s nothing to say,” he reassures out loud. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince Erica or himself.

“Hmm, sure, Jan. Whatever you say.”

“Have you told Boyd?” Stiles attacks back.

“Yes. We decided to stay friends. See? It’s not so hard.”

“You two fucked, didn’t you?”

“We’re friends, Stiles. So what if we did? We are friends. Pack. Nothing is going to change that.”

Instead of answering, Stiles goes back to his rum and coke, downing the glass in big gulps. Then he leaves Erica sitting on the same couch he was sitting on a couple of weeks ago after graduation.

Because of a lack of anything better to do, Stiles turns up the music and dances in front of his friends, lighting up a joint (probably his last one ever). Allison and Lydia immediately turn to him and dance with him. They seem to understand that there’s something in the air tonight.

It’s very late when Derek arrives, which isn’t unusual, but this time Derek looks like he’s been fighting to actually come in.

Stiles looks at him from where he’s dancing with the girls and they maintain eye contact for a few seconds. Then Derek tilts his head in invitation inside Lydia’s house. Stiles excuses himself and follows, finding Derek by the main entrance.

“Let’s go.”

“What?”

“Let’s go for a drive. We’ll come back in a bit.”

Stiles, not one to say no to midnight drives, follows after him.

They drive Derek’s Camaro all the way to the lookout, where Derek gets out of the car and sits on the hood. Stiles follows him silently.

“Why did we come here, Derek?”

“I just wanted a few minutes of peace.”

“On the other side of town?” he says with a grin.

“Out of everyone who’s leaving, you’re the one I’ll miss the most,” Derek says with a flat, neutral tone. It doesn’t answer his question, but it hits Stiles directly in his gut.

Stiles understands then why they call it butterflies in one’s stomach, it truly feels like there’s something fluttering inside of him. He’s sure Derek can smell it on him.

“I’m not leaving forever, though.”

“But things will change when you become an agent. It’s not like joining the local police, Stiles. You’ll be traveling all the time and we’ll barely see you on pack nights because there’ll always be something happening.

“We can try to pretend it’s not going to be different, but it is what it is. I just wanted to have a chance to tell you something. I— You— never mind.”

“What?” The wolf doesn’t respond, so Stiles decides to poke the issue with a stick, “come on, you brought me all the way here. What can be so important?”

“You might be the best friend I’ve had in my life, Stiles.”

Stiles’ stomach tightens. Friend. He can be Derek’s friend.

“You know, I never thought we’d be friends based on our first interaction.”

Derek chuckles softly, one of his beautiful big smiles blossoming on his face. “What? This is private property is an excellent opening.” Stiles laughs at that. “Oh, shut up.”

It’s such a fond expression, that Stiles thinks he might melt if he continues to look at him. Derek’s profile illuminated by the moonlight gives him an ethereal quality as if he were an angel repenting on Earth. Stiles has never been one for poetry, yet here he is, admiring the most beautiful man on Earth, who happens to be his friend.

Stiles can think of a thousand things to say, but instead, he brushes his shoulder against Derek’s making him look up, and closes the distance between them, giving him a light peck on the lips. It was intended to be just that, a short peck on the lips, but Derek doesn’t pull away, instead, he brings his hand to cup Stiles’ face and pushes forward, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss.

Stiles kisses him back, deep and passionately, already missing his lips, knowing there will not be other nights like this one. They’re so into the kiss that his phone startles them both when it rings, Scott’s ringtone echoing loudly in the silence of the preserve. Stiles pulls away and hangs up, but the moment is broken and Derek is staring into the horizon, his lips hardened in a line.

“We should go,” says Stiles.

“Yeah, we should.”

Summer 2014: Derek

It turns out that different colleges, different careers, and different schedules are a bit of a problem for a pack as big as theirs. They’ve been planning this pack night for months and they’re all a little antsy because they haven’t been together for so long that the bond feels weak, frail, incomplete.

But once they’re all together in Derek’s new place, it all goes away. Their lunch goes as well as it’s to be expected, except for the only person that’s missing.

Stiles called the night before to tell them he might arrive after midnight and only to sleep because he has to drive back to Virginia the next afternoon. While everyone was given a warning, Derek was still thinking that maybe he’d fucked up that night they kissed. He wasn’t supposed to let on how much he truly liked Stiles. It was too soon and he was still too young, too inexperienced.

By the time the sun has gone down, Stiles still hasn’t made an appearance and the pack is getting antsy, so Derek sends the wolves out on a run, while Lydia repeatedly calls and calls Stiles as if that could summon him.

Derek hears the jeep before the girls, opens the door, and rushes outside. When Stiles opens the door to the jeep, the strong smell of blood hits his nose, so Derek immediately howls to signal his pack to come up, distressed. He runs to the jeep to help Stiles out.

“Are you okay? Where are you hurt?”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, it’s not mine,” he says, stepping out of the jeep with a limp. “My ankle might be sprained though.”

“Stiles—” Derek begins, but at that moment the rest of the pack starts trickling into the clearing, all of them scared and anxious, wanting to scent their pack member, but they keep their distance.

When Stiles can’t walk all the way to the door, Derek takes matters into his own hands and lifts him up in a princess carry, not listening to Stiles’ protests that he’s just fine, and takes him directly to the main bathroom.

“Take a shower, then call for someone to come pick you up,” he orders.

Stiles immediately starts undressing, so Derek turns around. “I can go down the stairs myself, thank you very much.”

“Stiles don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, leaving the bathroom.

He knows that getting mad at Stiles is pointless since he always gets his way, so instead of leaving him, he sits on the floor across the main bathroom, listening to the shower and Stiles mumbling something too low to be heard over the sound of the shower.

When the water stops, there’s some shuffling inside until Stiles opens the door and glances down to see Derek.

“It figures you’d want to speak with me first.”

“What happened?”

“Can we do this downstairs so the wolves don’t have to strain their ears? They’re going to hear it all anyway.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but Stiles is right. It’s better to have everyone together. Stiles refuses to be carried unless it is on a piggyback ride, so Derek carries him down and sets him on a sofa. Allison, for her part, gives Stiles an elastic bandage to wrap his foot with.

“Can someone bring me something to drink? I’m thirsty as fuck,” says Stiles.

“What happened, Stiles?” asks Lydia, her tone soft but worried.

“Long story short, I had to shoot some shifters somewhere in the desert. I may have had to run for my life for a bit there.”

Erica whines low on her throat and so does Scott, who comes to sit next to Stiles and helps him with the bandage for his swollen ankle. “You should ice this,” he says.

“Yeah, sure, let’s do that. Are we having dinner or not?”

Derek frowns, about to say something, but Stiles speaks first, “I will tell you everything, I just want to eat something first.”

Dinner goes as usual for the pack: there’s tons of food, drinks, and thanks to Erica, a delicious dessert. Stiles explains his run-in with a family of “probably wolves” and tells them about how he had to use his gun when one of them grabbed him by his ankle and pulled him to the ground. He doesn’t specify why his shirt was still drenched in blood and he insists that save for a few cuts, he’s fine.

That doesn’t stop the pack from fussing though. After they’re finished with dinner, Stiles is shoved onto the couch and surrounded by wolves. He doesn’t protest too much and lets himself relax until he falls asleep in the pile.

Derek, whose heart is still trying to recover from the smell of blood and Stiles in the same place, doesn’t sleep that night at all.

The next morning, as the pack leaves, each in a different direction once again, they all mark Stiles as if he would disappear without it. Stiles allows it and even goes for hugs with the members of the pack he’s usually not so tactile with like Boyd and Isaac.

Eventually, only Cora is left and she leaves them alone as soon as the last wolf leaves the house.

“Will you tell me what happened now?” Derek asks.

“I told you what happened, Derek.” His heart beats a little faster at that. “And don’t start on how you know I’m lying because my heart rate spiked or whatever. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m your Alpha. I always have to worry about my pack, it’s my job.”

“And we’ve discussed this a hundred times, whatever I have to do while on assignment— Derek, you can’t protect me from the world.”

“So this wasn’t a family of wolves?”

“I mean, they were definitely shifters, normal bullets didn’t do shit.”

“Stiles, what are you getting into?”

“Nothing, man. Just a little assignment gone haywire. It shouldn’t happen again. It’s not like the FBI has a special division of hunters or anything.”

His heart rate spikes again.

Derek wants to say something, but what would be the point? Stiles won’t be persuaded.

“You can’t make a habit of this, y’know?”

“Yes, Mom.” He rolls his eyes at Stiles at that. “Anything else? Or can I go home to visit my dad real quick?”

“Go. It was nice to see you, Stiles.”

He hopes he conveys as much feeling into it as he wants, that he can let Stiles know without words that he’s here, that he hasn’t stopped thinking about the kiss, that he would do anything to wind the clock back and get a chance of something.

Instead, all he gets is a quick hug that’s not even enough to leave Stiles’ scent on his clothes.

Summer 2015: Stiles

Stiles stirs awake to the sound of his phone under his pillow. He answers with a slurred hello to a commotion on the other side.

“Hello?” He checks the caller once again. “Scott?”

“Stiles, you gotta get here. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t eat anything offered to you, just drive and come home.”

“What’s going on Scott?”

“I can’t— Allison! On your four! Stiles, we need our Spark.”

Before Stiles can reply, the connection is broken. It takes Stiles less than ten minutes to pack up and leave the premises.

He’s not supposed to just leave Quantico, but his pack needs him, and Stiles would rather be charged with desertion before leaving them to face any attack alone.

And so, Stiles drives, and drives, and drives. Straight to California, no stops besides a nap here and there. He knows it’s a terrible idea to drive in his state, but Scott only warned him of one thing and it stuck; no food or drinks. That can only mean one thing: the Fae found them and decided to pay a visit.

The Hale house looks just as he remembers it from a couple of months ago —the last time he visited— except it is a lot quieter. He takes a minute to arm himself: gun, iron knives, mountain ash, enough to last him for days. At last, he leaves his car in the entryway and goes inside the house.

Lydia is sitting at the head of the table, her hands tied to the chair, her voice muffled by the cloth gagging her mouth.

“Stiles, what the fuck are you doing here?” she spits when Stiles unties the gag, a thread of saliva running down the side of her mouth.

“Scott called me.”

Lydia looks skeptical. “Well, I guess he was good at something.”

“What happened?”

“We haven’t paid our respects to the Fae, you know?" she whispers. "Apparently, Derek did back when his pack was him and three more teenagers, but it’s not enough for a pack this size.”

“Where’s everyone else? Why are you here?” 

“Cause I’m the bait, dumbass. Ally is tied upstairs with a guard. You’re supposed to save us and get trapped here. Or, you could leave me here and follow Derek before he does something stupid like not pay his respects until the guys are free.”

“Why are they even trapped?”

“The Fae had their names, conned them into drinking something. No one has your name, Stiles. They can’t just summon you to the Fae realm.”

After a beat of silence, he sighs, “God, what a clusterfuck.”

“But you can do it, Stiles. I believe in you.”

“I don’t even know where to begin. Where do I go?”

“You have to follow your instinct, only you know where it is. That’s part of your Spark.”

He leaves one of his knives out for Lydia, who thanks him and starts working on her own ropes, while Stiles goes outside and breathes in deeply.

If his spark is all he needs, then he needs to hone his abilities like Deaton taught him. Breathe in, breathe out. Listen closely until he can hear his heartbeat. Breathe in, breathe out. Follow the thread that connects him to the wolves. Breathe in, breathe out.

It feels like a pull in Derek’s direction, strong like a thick rope joining him to the pack and his Alpha. He starts walking, slow and steady until he’s somewhere in the preserve that he doesn’t recognize very well. He sees the remnants of a fight and wonders if this is the fight Scott called him from. There’s dry blood on the ground and a broken bow near a tree. The image gives him the chills.

Before long, he realizes he’s probably not going to find Derek before dark and he’ll be lost in the woods, but right there, he feels a stronger pull as he crosses the natural arch formed by two trees. The other side of the arch looks exactly the same, except every color is more vivid here than back home. Here being the Fae realm, because it can’t be anywhere else.

At first, the man looks like a stranger, but then as Stiles walks closer, he notices the familiar stubble, the familiar shoulders, the familiar gait. “Derek!” he calls, trying to keep his voice down. 

It doesn’t matter because a bunch of pixies immediately come at him from the trees, bright and small, not very smart but very interested in Stiles’ buttons. Derek turns around with an incredulous look that Stiles wishes he could frame.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, man. You didn’t think you were going to go to Fairyland without me, right?”

“No, it can’t be.” He keeps his distance as he raises his hand. “I fell for this before. I won’t do it again.”

“Fell for what?” Derek just eyes him suspiciously. Meanwhile, Stiles swats pixies away from his buttons before they steal them. “Derek, come on. We have to get the rest of our pack back.”

“The rest of our pack?”

“Yeah, come on. I’m pretty sure they’re not happy to be summoned here.”

There's a beat of silence before Derek says, “My pack is dead, Stiles.”

Cold runs through Stiles’ back at that. “What do you mean?”

“I saw it happen?” Derek says it as a question as if he’s not sure if it actually happened or not. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “Stiles?”

Carefully, he says, “what?”

“Are you really here?”

Stiles knows that if any Fae impersonated him before —which apparently happened enough for Derek to be confused— they probably used whatever feelings Derek has for him against him. So instead of doing what he wants —run into his arms and kiss him senseless— he comes closer slowly, close enough to touch, and says, “touch me. I’m real.”

Derek touches his arm and immediately goes to find the pulse on his wrist. 

“Can you feel that?” he asks.

Derek doesn’t answer with words, but wraps him in a bone-crushing hug, burrowing his nose in the crook of his neck, scenting him.

“You smell different.”

“Like I haven’t showered in 2 days?” he asks, teasingly.

“No, like you’re packing enough iron to start a war.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Maybe that would be stupid,” and when he says those last words his breath brushes against Stiles’ ear, and a shiver goes through him. He knows Derek felt it, but decides to ignore it himself and save it for nights when he feels alone back in Virginia.

“Let’s go,” says Stiles, letting go of him. Derek takes his hand tight as if needing a lifeline to someone and Stiles only feels a little bad for enjoying the proximity.

Once they find the rest of their pack, it is only a matter of finding someone high enough in the hierarchy to pay their respects and get the wolves released. Eventually, they run into a tall, blonde Fae who was more than willing to release them in exchange for silence. She didn’t want a fight, she said. She was even nice enough to say nothing about the iron he probably reeks of.

When they cross the trees that mark the transition from the Fae realm into the human world, all the wolves appear to shake themselves out of something, looking around in puzzlement at where they were, wondering why they were tired as if they’d been partying for two days —which they had. Fae food usually makes people go frantic and dance maniacally for hours. Humans would have gone crazy twelve hours into it. 

They walk together until they find a trail to follow down to Derek's. When they arrive at the Hale house, the wolves take a moment to scent him. They hadn’t seen each other in months and they missed their packmate, but one look at Derek told them they should all head inside as soon as possible.

Stiles waits until Malia has rubbed her cheek against his long enough, softly pulls back, and tells the guys, “don’t worry, I’ll be there in a second.”

“What are you doing here, Stiles?” asks Derek, leaning against the jeep. He sounds tired and offended that Stiles is here in Beacon Hills.

What? Seriously?

“Are you fucking serious right now? I just saved your asses from dying in Fairyland. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Stiles, you can’t just leave the FBI.”

“I fucking know! But what was I supposed to do when Scott called?”

“Scott called?”

“Yeah,” he says as if it’s obvious, why else would he have left Virginia in the middle of the night? His best friends, his pack, needed him. He doesn’t say this to Derek, but he’s pretty sure Derek can read it right off his face by the way he moved his eyelid or something.

“So, you’re what? Leaving the feds?”

“They’re gonna kick me out anyways, I’ve been gone two days already.”

“Stiles, you—”

“Derek, it doesn’t matter. It’s okay. Maybe I knew this would happen someday.”

Silence stretches between them at the admission and Stiles wishes Derek would not look at him with those beautiful eyes as if he pitied him.

“It was your dream,” Derek says finally.

“I have other dreams,” he says. “Come on. There’s a pack inside who needs to be cuddled. And probably a Fae guard that Lydia and Ally subdued.”

Derek follows him, shaking his head almost fondly.

Summer 2016: Stiles

“Welcome to Jr’s. How can I help you?” Stiles asked for the hundredth time that evening. The restaurant was still open for the next two hours and then he’ll have to close with Martin, who always forgets something inside and makes Stiles retrace his steps to get it.

“Stiles?” the girl in the booth asked. Great. Former classmate. 

He looked down at her but didn’t recognize her at first sight. “Yeah, have we met before?”

“It’s me, Caitlin.” Her hair is now a white-ish blonde with blue streaks, but otherwise, she looked the same as he remembered her now that his brain had been prompted. “I thought you moved to Virginia to be FBI, what are you doing here?” 

So the rumor mill didn’t move as fast as he thought. Small town, giant hell, his grandmother used to say, meaning everyone knows everyone and everything there is to know. He should be glad people weren’t going around saying he washed out of the FBI after his first year.

He went with the usual lie. “Yeah, it turns out I’d rather save to go to college than become a soulless agent with a desk job.”

Stiles even put on his big smile that said it’s all good, I want to be here. Caitlin smiles at him but her eyes are full of pity as if she can read his real feelings on his face.

“So, what do you want? I’ll make it extra generous for you, Cait,” the nickname came easily to his lips as if they’re lifelong friends and not just two people who kissed once at a party.

“A tall glass of iced tea? Just that, I’m waiting for someone.”

Stiles takes his sweet time with the iced tea, and when he comes back to the table, Caitlin is deep in conversation with another girl who also recognizes him. They order waffles like every other customer today. He excuses himself when another customer comes in and he repeats his spiel.

It goes on and on, customer after customer as every single day goes in the restaurant. The same five orders by pretty much everyone, the same lousy tips. Except for Caitlin, who leaves him a twenty that Stiles can only read as pity, so he dumps it in the communal tip jar.

Five minutes before closing, when Stiles has already started the closing routine, the bell by the door chimes in announcing a new customer.

“Sorry, but we’re closing already,” he yells, hoping the person listens to him and leaves before Martin tries to be a good employee and offers to take their order.

“You can’t just shoo customers away, Stiles,” says a familiar voice.

“Derek, you have got to stop coming here when we’re closing, my boss already thinks we’re fucking in the backroom when you come over. If she cared a little, I’d be out of a job.”

Derek smiles, leaning on the bar. “She doesn’t think that, you’re exaggerating.”

The truth is, no one in the restaurant seemed to care about Stiles’ life outside of the restaurant, which made it a perfect place for Stiles to work. He knows he can’t hide in the restaurant forever, but what he told Caitlin was true: he is saving up and applying to colleges like crazy. Now that he knows what lies on the other side of the FBI, part of him is glad he didn’t make it in Virginia.

The part of Stiles that loves Beacon Hills because this is Derek’s town is particularly happy that he didn’t make it. Derek had been right once when he said that being an FBI agent would change things. His pack was almost killed when he was on the other side of the continent and he wouldn’t have known until it was too late. If he attended college nearby, he’d always be available for the pack.

It was a little sad, but it was what got him through the endless shifts at Jr’s. When he went to college, he’d still be close to them and if anything supernatural threatened the peace in his town, he’d make their lives impossible.

Stiles told Martin to just leave and finished closing on his own —with a little help from Derek who lowered the metal curtain in the main entrance.

Some nights, like tonight, Derek would appear at the restaurant and take him for a drive, sometimes tell him a story from his old pack and how it was for him growing up a wolf in the preserve. On rare nights, they’d drive past a diner open 24/7 and buy themselves a pair of monster milkshakes, then sit down on the hood of Derek’s car to drink them in the parking lot. Eventually, Derek would take Stiles to pick up his car and they’d go their separate ways.

Tonight seemed to be one of the second kind of days, so Stiles didn’t walk immediately to his car when he completed his closing routine.

“What are we doing tonight?” Stiles asks.

“I thought we could go for milkshakes? It’s not a good day.”

That’s another thing Stiles and Derek had begun doing. They spent so much time together now that Stiles was back in town that it was impossible for them to not talk about how they felt. Sometimes it was a simple I had a bad day via text; sometimes those nights would involve milkshakes.

“Sure, what is today?” Stiles can’t remember if Derek told him it was a special day.

“Laura’s birthday. Cora is punching holes through a wall back in the loft. I needed something else.”

Derek needed Stiles. Isn’t that a funny thought to entertain? He supposes what Derek needed was different company and didn’t mean anything else by it, so he only replies with a nod.

“Do you want me to drive?” offers Stiles.

“No, this was Laura’s car. I wanna drive it today,” he replies.

Stiles understood that and let himself be driven around town. Derek drove them out of town for a good forty minutes before turning into a side road and driving five more minutes to another town that looked smaller than Beacon Hills.

“You didn’t bring me here to kill me, did you?”

Derek looks up at him from his seat and raises his eyebrows. “If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it last pack night when you decided to use me as a plushie.”

Stiles laughs because Derek likes to pretend like he minds when people wake up hugging him, but in reality, the wolf slept like a rock when someone used him, as he put it, as a plushie.

Cora once said that werewolves, like wolves, were tactile creatures, that’s why she’d always touch his shoulder or an arm when he was around. She also said that werewolves needed to scent their pack and keep them close out of survival but also out of love. A pack is a family; it is the most human of their traits. 

Stiles usually wondered how Derek had felt when he thought he was alone in the world. No wonder he convinced Isaac, Erica, and Boyd to join the pack. They were all lonely as hell.

“Let’s go get those milkshakes.”

After they’ve gotten their milkshakes and they’re both sitting on the hood of the car, Derek tells him, softly, as a secret “do you think there’s anything after?”

“I feel like that conversation needs vodka and weed, not a milkshake,” he replies, not daring to look in Derek’s direction.

“I dreamt of Laura last night. It got me thinking.”

Stiles doesn’t think he’s high enough to have a conversation about the afterlife so he takes a sip from his milkshake, letting Derek work through it in silence.

“I don’t know, Derek,” he says after the silence becomes too much. He takes a long sip of his milkshake. “I wish there was Something, capital S. I miss my mom.”

“Still?” he asks.

“Every goddamn day. But now it’s not the first thing I think about every day. And someday, losing Laura will not be the first thing you think of in the morning.”

They finish their milkshakes in silence. Then, before they get into the car, Derek says, “thank you.”

Stiles wants to ask what for but decides not to. Instead, he offers his fist in a clumsy fist bump that Derek returns. Then they’re off, back to Beacon Hills.

Summer 2017: Derek

He’s nervous as he hasn’t been in a while. It’s not like he’s introducing his girlfriend to his mother, but it feels a lot like it is. Cora had taken a look at her, raised an eyebrow, and then played nice for the time she was in the house, but immediately asked him, once Gabi had left, what he was thinking.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“If this is some weird ploy to make Stiles jealous, he’s not gonna see it. You gotta spell it out for him.”

Stiles? Derek hardly ever thought of Stiles outside of pack meetings anymore. It wasn’t that he didn’t like him, it was that he could see the man only liked him as a friend and he still had some dignity.

Stiles had been dating some douchebag the last time he came to visit during spring break. Derek hadn’t met him but if Scott called him a douchebag, he had to be. Scott’s tolerance for douchebags was high and even he couldn’t stand the man.

“I like Gabi. I don’t see what this has got to do with Stiles.”

“Sure, Derek. Whatever you say.”

Erica had a similar reaction a couple of nights later when he introduced Gabi to the rest of the pack. She didn’t wait until Gabi left, just until she could corner Derek in the kitchen for a minute.

“What are you doing? Where did you find this girl?”

“We met in a bookstore. Why are you asking?”

“Well, excuse me for being worried about potential threats,” she says as if Derek should be aware of it too. “I don’t get it. I thought you and Stiles were working on something?”

“Stiles has a boyfriend,” he replies in the same stiff tone he told Cora when he found out.

“That Theo guy? Man, they hate each other. They’re literally just having hate sex while you decide to fight for him.”

“That sounds insane, Erica.”

“This is Stiles we are talking about,” she argued. “He went to the Fae realm loaded on iron and survived unscathed because some Fae was scared of him going batshit insane in their realm. If you don’t think Stiles would hate-fuck someone then we don’t know the same Stiles.”

After a beat of silence, Derek realizes Gabi is standing behind the door, probably listening in on their conversation.

He doesn’t get to say anything, since Derek hears the familiar jeep coming to the house. “We’ll finish this conversation, Erica.”

Gabi turns to him when Derek exits the kitchen, “hey, sorry I didn’t mean to pry, I just didn’t want to be alone with everyone else.”

“Don’t worry about it, Erica has some weird ideas about the pack and how it works.”

Stiles chooses that moment to enter the house using his own keys and everyone welcomes him with hugs and cheek rubs.

When Derek comes out of the hallway, Erica goes past him and jumps to Stiles’ open arms. Stiles, who has gotten stronger over the years, doesn’t even move when he catches her. For his part, Derek tries his best to hide the small pang of jealousy at their familiarity.

“Hey, handsome. Missed you,” then she buries her head on his neck.

“You always say so, yet you never drop by my dorm to visit me and you’re the closest to me.”

“I have a reputation to uphold outside, you dummy.”

She holds onto Stiles for a second more and Stiles holds her tightly until she lets go. Then Stiles turns to Derek.

“Can I get a hug or are we only shaking hands now?” he asks cheekily.

Derek only walks to him and gives him a short hug but he still manages to get his nose full of Stiles’ scent. He misses him immediately.

“And who do we have here?” he asks, looking over Derek’s shoulder to take Gabi in.

Silence falls in the room like a heavy blanket. It seems as if the entire room is holding its breath.

“This is Gabriella. We are dating,” he says.

Stiles quirks an eyebrow upwards. “Well, hello, Gabriella.”

Gabi doesn’t move an inch, in fact, she puts her arms around herself as if protecting her body from a blow.

“Not very talkative, I guess?” Gabi doesn’t say anything. “Well, it’s fine, I can do the talking for the whole pack if necessary.”

Erica laughs, breaking the silence, and the whole room relaxes around him. Except for Stiles, who seems to be holding his breath for something else to happen.

Gabi, who looks slightly out of place, relaxes an inch or so, looking at Derek with her soft, brown eyes and a shy smile.

For their part, the rest of the pack takes their cue from Stiles, as they usually do, and they make sure to make Gabi feel comfortable while she’s there. And when she leaves, none of them start questioning him, but he sees the wolves turn to Stiles more than once as if searching for something.

Stiles is none the wiser.

Summer 2018: Stiles

Stiles is driving home from college when his phone rings. He doesn’t pick up because he doesn’t want to risk having an accident, but that means he gets home without a warning.

There’s an ambulance parked outside his father’s home and they’re wheeling his dad out of the house. Scott is there anxiously pacing around, phone to his ear, face serious. His phone rings again.

He slams on the brakes and he’s out of the jeep in a second. “Scott, what happened?”

“Stiles, what the hell? Answer your phone, I’ve been calling you for ages.”

“Hey, man, that’s my dad— Dad! Dad, can you hear me?” Stiles calls, his dad turns in his direction and makes an effort to wave but his hand falls limp on his stomach.

Scott stops him by his arm. “Stiles, listen to me. Your father had a coronary. I found him only a few minutes ago. The ambulance got here on time. He’s gonna be okay.”

But Stiles cannot listen to reason because that’s his dad over there and they’re taking him to the hospital.

“I need to go with him,” he says.

“I’ll drive you. Give me the keys.” Stiles finds it easy to do as he’s told because the only thing that matters is that his father gets safe to the hospital.

In the car, Stiles texts Derek.

[07.09.18 20:02]
omw to the hospital
with my dad
heart attack

[07.09.18 20:03]
I’ll be there as soon as I can

[07.09.18 20:03]
don't rush
dont want u crashing your car
I couldnt take it

[07.09.18 20:04]
Are you in the ambulance?

[07.09.18 20:05]
nah
Scott’s driving me

[07.09.18 20:06]
Good

Stiles looks up from his phone. They’re stopped at a red light and Scott is inspecting his face for something that Stiles can’t name. He feels weirdly calm about the situation as he wasn’t before.

“What did Derek say?” Scott asks.

“He’s coming to the hospital.”

“Good,” Scott says, unknowingly echoing Derek’s words. 

Stiles can only hope things resolve that easily.

His father will need some physical therapy for a couple of weeks, but otherwise, the doctors expect him to make a full recovery. Derek takes his hand when he sits down after the doctor speaks to him, deflated. Stiles cries then, unable to hold it in anymore. He cries on Derek’s shoulder for what seems like hours, but could only have been a handful of very intense minutes.

After that, he’s spent and falls asleep on Derek, but he keeps waking up every few minutes to ask about his dad. Eventually, Scott and Derek convince him to go take a nap in the jeep, and Derek shifts into his wolf in the parking lot and climbs the car to sleep next to Stiles, giving him wolf cuddles when he needs them the most.

Stiles wakes up to a soft knock on the window. Scott holds up a brown bag of goodies and Stiles’ stomach roars at the idea of food.

Derek stirs when Stiles moves and gets out of the car, shifting outside back to man, then getting back in the car to get dressed.

“Dude,” Scott calls from outside. “You are going to get arrested.”

Stiles finds the prospect of a cop arresting him for not having sex with Derek absurd and laughs himself fully awake. Sitting up, Stiles stretches his back and his arms as much as he can, then opens the door to get out himself and stretch some more. 

Derek, finally dressed, gets out and sort of mumbles at them, “this would be a dumb way to get arrested, I’ll give you that.”

Stiles takes a moment to really drink Derek in, to appreciate the beard he’s grown, the way the twilight sky darkened his eyes, the tightness of his t-shirt, the way his muscles seemed carved on his body.

Derek has always been hot, but Stiles thinks that now he’s so out of his league, it’s not even funny enough to joke about.

“My mom says your dad can receive visits tomorrow, so we can go home for now,” says Scott.

“I’m not going anywhere,” replies Stiles.

Scott glances at Derek, clearly asking for help.

“Stiles, as your Alpha, I’m sending you home until tomorrow.”

“You can’t just pull rank on me,” he says.

“Well, don’t make me do it then,” Derek looks at him for a few seconds and Stiles folds like a house of cards.

“Fine, but I’ll complain the whole way.”

Scott decides to go with him and Derek follows them in his car, all the way to Stiles’ place. He doesn’t get out of the car but frowns at them until they go inside.

Once they’re in his room, exhaustion sets in, and Stiles barely has enough strength to get out of his shoes and jeans. Scott, knowing Stiles will have a difficult time sleeping by himself, gets a few blankets and a pillow from the linen closet, and settles down on the floor next to Stiles.

“Hey, Scott?” he asks when the lights are off.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being there for my dad.”

“You should thank my mom for sending me here when she did,” he replies.

“I will.”

There’s nothing but silence for a while until Scott asks, “hey, did you know Ally and I are dating Isaac now?”

Stiles, in his infinite knowledge of Scott’s distraction tactics, says, “Isaac is way out of your league.”

“Hey!”

“Not Allison’s though,” he adds. “Allison is way out of y’all’s league.”

Scott throws his pillow at Stiles’ face. “I’m serious, we really are dating.”

Stiles turns until he can look at Scott, which takes some time in the dark, but he manages. “Are you happy, Scott?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Then I’m happy for you three.” And he is, he sort of suspected that something was going on before, but he’s glad his friend told him. It does make him feel a little lonely as if all his friends are finding the loves of their lives except him.

“I’m also going to Med school next semester.”

At that, Stiles sits up.

“Dude. That’s fucking awesome.”

“Is it?” Scott’s voice is laced with doubt at that. 

“You’re going to be a kickass doctor, Scott.”

“I haven’t told my mom yet. I told her I was happy as a nurse but the truth is…”

“You want to wear the white coat that badly?” he ventures.

“I just want to help people,” he says. “And Beacon Hills could use a doctor or two who know about the supernatural.”

“Scott, you’re going to do great. And your mom will be happy for you,” he reassures.

Scott thanks him then, and says “sleep now. You have to see your dad tomorrow.”

So Stiles does.

Summer 2019: Derek

Stiles looks like a dream with the new beard he’s grown. It’s not exactly a new thing, but every time Derek sees him again after a month or two, he gets the air knocked out of him once again. This time, he’s teaming with Lydia to tease Allison and her new dungarees. Apparently, Isaac’s gotten her into gardening and that’s why she’s got more than one. Derek couldn’t care less, all he wanted to do was talk to Stiles, but he didn’t want to impose.

Ever since he and Gabi broke up, he’s been looking for a way to tell Stiles that he was not an insignificant part of their final fight, but he can’t find the words to tell him hey, I might be a little bit in love with you.

It could be as simple as that, but how can he say that if he doesn’t know if Stiles feels the same? He can’t risk his heart getting broken again. Because the hard part of it all is that he did love Gabi, he’s just loved Stiles longer, harder, for as long as they’ve known each other almost.

Stiles eventually makes his way through everyone gathered at their little pack meeting and ends up next to Derek with a glass of rum and coke and a lit joint.

“How are you doin’, stud?” he says. If Derek’s heart beat any faster, he’d probably die. “Why are you suddenly so silent over here? I thought your brooding days were over thanks to our darlin’ Gabriella. Where is she, by the way?”

“Gabi and I broke up a couple of weeks ago,” he says, taking a sip from his own drink. Maybe he can’t get drunk, but the whiskey burns all the same. “I thought someone would’ve told you by now.”

Stiles looks at him like there’s a million things he wants to say to that, but can’t find the words, so Derek continues, “we’d been having some issues.”

“I thought you’d get over that phase. What was it called? The ‘oh, your friends take an awful lot of your time’ one.”

“Well, she was worried I was part of a cult,” he defends.

“Any woman who wants to isolate you from your friends is not to be trusted, babe,” he says, taking a hit from the joint. Derek’s heart jumps at the pet name. “Besides, she was weird about our pack.”

It was true. As a werewolf herself, Gabi had never had a problem with the pack per se, but she was weird about the humans, the banshee, and other shifters —namely Malia— under the pack's protection as well. She didn’t have to say it outright, but from her comments about Allison, it was clear she did not want any human in her pack.

Not that it was her pack yet, she was omega and had no pack of her own. That reminder stung: she was out there, alone and unprotected. Derek wanted to find her out of some weird sense of devotion, but Stiles was right, maybe this was a long time coming and Derek didn’t see it yet.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he ends up asking. He knows it’s too early to bail on their pack night hangout, but he needs to be somewhere where there are no reminders of Gabi and his home is not it: he can see her in the ugly cushions she made for his previous birthday, in the bright blue color of his curtains, in the ashtray she made as part of her clay endeavors.

“Sure, where we going?” Stiles asks, joint in between his lips, already walking down the hallway in the direction of the main entrance.

“Let’s just drive for a while.”

They wind up in the lookout because of course they do. Derek has very fond memories of kissing Stiles that one night before he left for Quantico, the night where he fucked up by not asking him to stay. Stiles gets out of the car putting on a sweater as he does so, not bothering to zip it up. He leans against the hood of the car and Derek joins him there

“What’s on your mind?” Stiles asks.

“I really thought Gabi and I were it,” he says, not bothering to explain that it was only that way because he knew he would never have Stiles.

“I didn’t think things were so serious,” Stiles says.

“I don’t know. It was the longest relationship I’ve had. Kinda like you and that guy you went out with in college.” Derek leaves out the part where he was secretly hoping Stiles’ relationship wouldn’t work so they’d be together someday.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m glad Theo and I didn’t work out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he was a dick. I honestly only did it to make you jealous, I think.”

Derek’s heart beats faster at that. If Stiles was a shifter, he’d be able to know exactly how those words affect him.

“Why?” Derek asks because he’s a bit of a masochist.

“I had a giant crush on you, big guy. How you never noticed it, it’s beyond me,” as he says so, he takes out another joint from his pocket and lights it up. “I honestly thought we had a chance somewhere there. But I’m glad we never ruined our friendship.”

Stiles smokes, taking a big hit from his joint and then passing it to Derek. Derek won’t get high, but he takes a hit anyway. They smoke out there for a while, until Stiles says, “would you have ruined our friendship, Derek?”

“Yes,” he says, no hesitation in his words. “I still would, to be honest.”

Stiles stands up straight. “Don’t play games with my heart, Derek.”

“I’m serious,” he says, bumping his shoulder with Stiles. Stiles puts out the joint and turns to him.

“I don’t make a habit of sleeping with my friends.” Stiles leans closer, just a breath away, “for you though? I can make an exception.”

Derek leans in and kisses him, tentatively at first, scared he might be dreaming. But when he doesn’t wake up alone in his bed, he pushes against Stiles’ mouth and it opens up for him, their kiss all tongues and teeth and hot panting against each other.

Stiles brings his hands to his face to guide their kiss, but it only becomes more urgent and Derek turns them around so Stiles is leaning against the car, Derek’s body pressed heavily against him. 

“Derek,” Stiles pants, forehead pressed to Derek’s, “please tell me you have condoms in the car.”

Derek reaches out behind Stiles and opens the door to the car —shoving Stiles out of the way as he does so— looking in the glove compartment, but all he finds are old receipts and actual gloves he hasn’t worn once.

“Fuck.” He opens the glove compartment again just to make sure. Nothing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“It’s fine, we can leave that for another day, come on,” Stiles reassures him. Derek is not so sure about it.

He closes the door and Stiles leans against it, chuckling. “Man, if I knew that all I needed was to move to the Bay area for you to pay attention to me, I would’ve done that a lot sooner, y’know?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says, but it’s a fond remnant of their antagonistic past. 

They go back to kissing, this time at a much more leisurely pace. Derek cannot get enough of Stiles’ mouth, he’s sure he’d spend an eternity kissing him if it were possible.

“When are you leaving?” asks Derek when they come up for a breath.

“I have to work on Monday, so I should drive down tomorrow afternoon,” but he sounds reluctant about it.

“Stay another day, I’ll drive you if you need to sleep.”

“God, you’re gonna get me fired.”

“You don’t even like to work as a copywriter.” He’d said so a million times before, but Derek still felt like an asshole bringing it up.

“It’s a job. Some of us didn’t inherit millions from our family, y’know?” It stings, of course, it does, Stiles knows him enough to always know where to drive the knife into to make the most damage. “Fuck, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, but you did.”

Silence hangs heavy between them now, and they pull apart, the mood soured by their words. Derek walks to the other side of the car and opens the door to his car.

“Let’s go back to the party. I’m sure people are asking about you.”

Summer 2020: Stiles

Stiles opens the door to find Derek standing on the other side.

“Derek?” he asks, frowning. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Derek had never visited him in his apartment in the Bay Area and Stiles was immediately assaulted with images of his pack in need of help.

“Nothing happened, why would something have happened?”

“You’re here. You’ve never been here before,” he states as if it’s obvious.

“Scott gave me your address, I thought I’d drop by sometime if that’s okay?”

The past year they’d been texting more than seeing each other, as Stiles would only visit for short periods while he used all his free time to write his book. Even his father has driven down to visit him instead of Stiles going to him. 

Stiles can’t say he misses Beacon Hills. He misses his pack when he’s away, but he’s finally found a place for himself in the world. He’s got a steady job he doesn’t hate in a library where he can use his free time to write and he’s finally getting over his years-long crush on Derek —something that seemed impossible for a bit after they kissed the year before. But Derek went back to Gabi less than a month after their ill-fated moment at the lookout, closing the coffin of Stiles’ feelings for him.

Or so he thought before Derek appeared back at his door, his stubble now a full-grown beard, his beautiful green eyes set on him. He’s looking as fit as ever in his black leather jacket and his tight-fitting jeans.

In the end, he lets Derek in and gets him a beer while getting one for himself. He plays with the label on the bottle whereas Derek seems to swallow his words over and over again.

“So, I came to bring you this.” He reaches into his jacket and takes out a small white envelope. Stiles’ stomach drops. “Here.”

Stiles takes the envelope and takes out the small invitation inside. You’re invited to the wedding joining the lives of Gabriella Day and Derek Hale. Two months from now. Stiles frowns. “September 12th?”

“I hear they call it a shotgun wedding.”

No. Not this. The last nail in the coffin for his crush on Derek.

“Really? Gabriella is pregnant?” he asks, trying to keep his tone even. 

“Yeah, she’s three months along.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it in one of your texts?” he asks, his annoyance only slightly fake.

“You know how it is, the first three months. No one knew before yesterday, you’re not the last one to know.”

Stiles, by now an expert in deflecting and hiding his real emotions around Derek, says, “well, congratulations.” Derek grimaces. “Or not?” He leaves the question hanging, waiting to see what Derek thinks.

“It’s just. Everything’s happened so fast. I feel like only yesterday we were talking about traveling and living life on the road, and now we’re settling down because of a baby of all things.”

“But you’re happy with her?” Stiles asks, feeling like he’s asked this before.

“I am. Just not the way I pictured things.”

“Things hardly ever are,” he replies.

They finish their beer in cordial silence, Stiles peeling the label off completely in his need to fidget with something.

“You should come over soon. Isaac is throwing me a bachelor party.”

Stiles can think of a million places he’d rather be instead of Derek’s bachelor party to marry someone else. He agrees to go and excuses himself with work. Derek leaves with a frown on his face that reminded Stiles of their first year as not-quite-allies. 

It stings.

Stiles thinks he might be stupid for agreeing to come to Derek’s bachelor party. There are other reasons to back him up, but the main one is there’s alcohol and weed and Stiles doesn’t have a filter when he’s cross-faded.

He is chatting to Scott when Derek comes into the bar looking like a dream come true: a tight-fitting gray shirt and jeans, wearing glasses he’d never seen on him before. He looks positively sinful.

Stiles catcalls Derek when he comes in and Scott follows his lead, taunting him until he sits down.

“Derek here is pulling all the stops in his final night out as a single man, I see,” Stiles says.

Derek smiles but it’s a strained smile, almost as if he’s not allowed to have fun.

“Everything ok, man?” asks Scott, who probably heard the man’s heartbeat change or something. Stiles knows some werewolf bullshit is going on by the way Boyd’s posture changes and Isaac’s face twists in a grimace.

“Yeah, yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

They drink a round of shots and —while Stiles notices that something is wrong with Derek when he downs three shots in a row as if chasing a high— the conversation is light and fun for a while. Then Scott suggests they leave the bar and go to a burlesque show Allison suggested.

“I gotta head back soon,” says Derek.

Stiles, who lit up a joint the minute they went outside, makes a whip sound. Scott chuckles, but Derek doesn’t find it funny. 

“Oh, come on, Derek,” he says, offering his joint to the wolf. “Let’s go see the dancers. You can be a good fiancé tomorrow.”

But Derek doesn’t want to go and it somehow ruins the mood for the rest of the guys, making Stiles feel awkward as the only one who wishes to continue the debauchery until morning comes.

In the end, they go their separate ways, Stiles being the only exception, as he is taken to Scott’s place to crash for the night, deemed too intoxicated to drive anywhere.

The truth is, Stiles wasn’t nearly as intoxicated as he made it seem, he just didn’t want to be alone for a while. He almost wishes he’d said something to Derek, but it was too late now.

Derek’s wedding is a small affair. They get married at the courthouse and then celebrate with a dinner party at the Hale house. Gabriella looks beautiful, so much so that Stiles almost cries when he sees her. Of course Derek would fall in love with her.

Stiles doesn’t drink or smoke or do anything that could be considered intoxicating. Once the cake’s been cut, he leaves the party without saying goodbye, immediately driving down to his apartment.

When he gets home, Stiles doesn’t even make it to his bedroom. He leans against the closed door and cries until he can’t stay upright. He doesn’t feel better, in fact, he’s assaulted with the idea of his selfishness immediately, but he can’t stop the tears from falling, just like he can’t stop his heart from loving Derek.

Summer 2021: Derek

Derek is putting Eli to sleep when the phone rings, startling the baby again. He takes the phone in one hand and puts it in silence, leaving it on the table while he gets Eli settled. Once that’s done, he calls Stiles back.

“You know, putting a baby to sleep is twice as difficult when you keep calling,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

“I just wanted to let you know it’s here! My book has finally been printed and the advanced copies are under my desk right now.”

“Congrats, Stiles!” and he means it. He's been hearing about Stiles’ project for the last year and he’s happy his friend can finally be free of the pressure he’s built around himself to finish the project.

“Scott promised we’d celebrate, so I’m driving north now. Are you coming?”

“I don’t know, Stiles. Life with a six-month-old baby is not exactly…”

“Easy?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah,” replies Derek. He doesn’t let on that Gabi might not be thrilled about Stiles altogether because he knows Stiles himself is not big on Gabi either.

“Is Gabriella home? I could drop by, give you your signed copy myself, maybe we could chat for a bit?”

Gabi is not home, but instead of replying, Derek tells Stiles, “we can meet tomorrow for lunch? Will you still be in town?”

“You betcha, big man,” he sounds disappointed, but without seeing him Derek can’t know for sure.

“See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

Neither of them hangs up immediately and Derek can hear Stiles’ breathing on the other side of the line. When Stiles doesn’t say anything, Derek hangs up feeling like there was more in that silence than in all the words they’ve spoken the last couple of months.

Stiles is late, something that almost never happens, and yet, here Derek is, standing by the door of the restaurant they agreed on, waiting for him.

When Stiles finally arrives, he’s winded as if he’d been running from someone or something.

“Since when do you guys fuck around with fairies in here?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

“We haven’t had any issues with them since that time you broke us out of the Fae realm,” Derek replies.

“Well, you could tell that to the fairies that thought it would be a good idea to fuck with my car.”

“What happened?” Stiles smelled of smoke and iron, he didn’t think he wanted to hear Stiles’ answer.

“Let’s go in, we have to start planning how to break the news to the rest of the pack that we’re now on red alert.”

They sit in the corner farthest away from the door, Stiles claiming the seat with a clear line of sight to the door.

“So, what happens now?” Derek asks. “You’re supposed to be our link to the Fae realm and you just murdered, what? Two of the Fae?”

“More like five, but that’s not important. They were all low-ranking Fae, the problem is they were hanging out with a Princess.”

“Did you kill the Princess too?” right then, a waitress comes up to their table and raises her eyebrows. 

“Video game,” explains Stiles, ordering himself a beer and a club sandwich.

Derek orders too, but it barely registers to him. All he can think of is fairies coming to his house and attacking them while their defenses are down.

“And no, I didn’t kill the Princess, I’m not a fucking idiot,” Stiles continues, oblivious to Derek’s struggle. “I did tell her to stop hanging out in the city, so I’m pretty sure they’re going to interpret it as we are allowed to live in the preserve. You know how they are.” 

Derek’s stomach tightens. “I have to let them know.”

“That’s what we’re gonna do. After lunch. I’m hungry as fuck and there’s nothing we can do until they decide to appear,” he says so nonchalantly, so unpreoccupied with the matter at hand that Derek’s stomach twists.

“Stiles,” he tries to keep an even tone, but he’s sure his eyes have turned red by now. “My family is in the preserve.”

“And I put the wards up in there, I’m not a seventeen-year-old idiot, Derek. I know what I’m saying.” He sounds smug about it too, and that’s the last straw for him.

He stands up and drops a twenty on the table. “I gotta go see my family.”

It turns out, Stiles was correct in his assumption that the Fae would try to stake out the preserve. He was also correct that the wards he put up would protect his family because they are unharmed inside the house, but Derek is now surrounded by the Fae outside his place.

With no other option but to fight, he howls as loud as he can, hoping some of his pack can make it on time.

He partially shifts just in time for the first Fae to attack. It slashes his arm and pain shoots through it, but he cannot take a second to dwell on it because a second Fae is running in his direction. 

As usual, he hears the jeep coming to the clearing before he sees it. The Fae that is coming his way is not paying attention to anything that’s not Derek and Stiles crashes into it with enough force that the creature goes flying.

Without missing a beat, he gets out of the car and points his gun, firing two shots at the first Fae. Derek gets thrown off by a Fae that jumps him from behind, sinking its teeth in his shoulder. Derek throws the creature off with a shake and catches a glimpse of iron from behind, where Stiles stabs the creature for him. 

There’s more of them coming, their pack is not gonna make it on time.

It seems as if Stiles can read his mind since he takes a deep breath and throws a handful of mountain ash around them, which falls in a perfect circle surrounding them. It’s not enough and it will only buy them a couple of minutes, but Derek will take it.

Except, that’s when he spots Gabi running in their direction, teeth, and claws out, biting down on one of the Fae’s neck, ripping its throat out with her bare teeth.

“Gabi, watch out!” he calls and several things happen at the same time.

He hears another car approaching, which can only mean some of his pack is finally arriving on the scene.

Stiles breaks the mountain ash circle and runs towards Gabi.

One of the Fae, a tall, white-blonde woman who looks a lot like a Princess —for all he knows, this is the princess Stiles talked about— attacks Gabi, sparks flying from her hand in her direction.

Stiles almost makes it to her, as if he saw her movement before it even started, but it’s too late. Gabi gets glued to her spot and the Fae uses a longsword to cut her in half.

Stiles takes advantage of his momentum and crashes against the Fae, rolling around the ground for a moment. Then he stabs her shoulder with a knife that makes her scream.

Right then, Derek notices that the person who screamed wasn’t the Fae, but Lydia, who’s probably sensing how the whole thing will develop. Derek, still frozen in his spot, feels a hand on his shoulder, trying to stop him from going to Gabi.

“Derek!” He hears his name among the commotion around him but all he can see is the blood staining the ground around his wife.

When he gets to her side, she’s still conscious, looking up at him.

“Derek, I- I can’t feel anything,” she says, tears welling up in her eyes. Derek’s heart beats in his ears, his tongue is heavy in his mouth. He feels as if the air has been punched out of him. “I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

Derek thinks she can’t see what’s happened to her, but she clearly feels something is wrong.

“Hey, hey, hey. You’re gonna be alright.”

Derek hears a wolf howl in pain behind him but he can’t be bothered to check. His hands are stained with Gabi’s blood and all he can do is hold her hand. Not even a werewolf can survive this.

“I’m leaving him,” she sobs. “I’m leaving Eli and I’m leaving you.”

She chokes and spits some blood. Derek cleans the corner of her mouth and his own tears fall on Gabi’s face.

“We will see each other again,” Derek says.

“You have to tell him, Derek,” she urges. “You have to tell him I didn’t abandon him.”

Derek doesn’t know what to reply to that, so he only nods and brings one of Gabi’s hands to his lips, kissing it softly.

“I love you, Derek. So much,” she whispers, then her body lies inert on the ground, her eyes still looking up at the forest sky.

Derek howls. It tears through his throat as a living thing: a long, doleful cry that escapes him from deep within himself. He hasn’t felt this since he found Laura in a similar fashion.

All at once, the cries of the fight around him come back to him and he joins the fight, fueled by a sorrow so immense, he can never come back from.

He tears through flesh, biting, ripping, slashing until he’s covered in Fae blood and the only person standing is the tall, white-blond Fae who took Gabi away from him.

Before he can jump her, several wolves come to him —some fully shifted, some partially so— trying to stop him, but all he sees is red, the same color staining the earth beneath Gabi’s body.

He doesn’t get to the Fae before Stiles though, who uses one of his long, thick knives and chops one of the creature’s hands, making it shriek in terror. She cradles her limb against her chest and looks at Stiles down as if thinking of her next move.

“I fucking told you once, if you came looking for trouble with this pack, there’d be consequences.”

Derek can’t recall clearly their previous encounter with the Fae, but Stiles apparently can. He speaks with such a finality, there’s no doubt he means it.

“If any of you dare to touch Beacon Hills or its surroundings, if you ever put a finger on my pack again, you’re going to lose more than a hand. Is that understood?” The Fae nods. Derek wants to rip its throat out with his teeth. “You better run while you can because the next of you motherfuckers that crosses my path will not live to tell the tale.”

The Fae runs until she disappears from Derek’s view. Once they’re sure the Fae left for good, the wolves holding him let him go.

“Why did you let her go?” Derek growls.

“Because if no one carried a message, this would keep happening. I’m done playing nice with the Fae.”

“Isn’t your Spark part Fae?” asks Erica.

He doesn’t get to reply, because Derek goes to stand in front of him and pushes him, almost making him trip and fall. “That was not your decision to make! I want that bitch dead!”

“Derek, you’re not thinking clearly now,” says Scott, coming to stand next to Stiles.

“No, I am thinking clearly.” He breaks away from Boyd and Isaac’s grip and points at Stiles. Hot, white anger fills him up, and with nowhere to go, it goes toward Stiles. “They were here because of you. Because you started a fight with some idiot fairy that messed with your car.”

“Derek—”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it. I want you out. Out of the pack, out of town, and if I ever see you again, I will rip your throat out. With my teeth.”

Stiles looks at him for a moment, then he seems to decide that there’s nothing to discuss, he picks up his gun and books it to the car.

“You can’t kick Stiles out,” says Erica. “Isn’t he your second in command or something?”

As the jeep drives away, it hits him that Stiles, the only person he wanted to talk to about what just happened, won’t be around and his heart breaks once more. He feels tears in the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill once again.

He turns to the pack and says, “we’ll bury Gabi tonight.”

Then he walks into his home, where Eli is sitting in a high chair, none the wiser.

Summer 2022: Derek

Derek wakes up to Eli crying out for him. The last couple of weeks, he’s been getting restless in the morning and he calls for Derek as soon as he wakes up.

He drags his feet to his son’s room and picks him up, carrying him with him to the kitchen to give him his bottle. Eli settles down when he is left to his own devices in a high chair. In the meantime, Derek prepares breakfast for himself. His phone rings somewhere in the living room but he can’t be bothered to check. Not today.

It’s been a year since Gabi’s death and he is handling it… well, by his standards, he’s handling it. Lydia would say something else along the lines of “you know you’ve got a phone and you’ve got his number. Why don’t you call him?”

He knows this because it was their last conversation. How much he misses Stiles, his friend, his second in command, the only person he’s ever trusted this much.

But he’s ashamed. How could he not be? He kicked him out, pushed him away in a moment where he wasn’t thinking clearly, fueled by grief, and Stiles, for once, listened to him and left.

He left.

Derek wishes it didn’t hurt this bad, he wishes his love for Stiles was gone so it was easier to forget him, easier to move on and be there for his son who needs him more than anything. However there’s one thing that remains the same: he loves him, he’s never stopped loving him. Somewhere down the line, he fell in love with his best friend and he’s been in love ever since.

He loved Gabi too, but he has loved Stiles the longest. And while life without Gabi has been horrible, it has been worse because he lost his best friend too.

Derek eats breakfast in silence, the only sound in the room is the happy babbles from his son as he drinks his bottle.

Summer 2023: Stiles

He’s running errands before Scott’s visit when he spots Derek. He’s pushing a stroller that Stiles can only assume carries Eli around.

Because he doesn’t want to run into the man, he turns around and hides behind a kiosk selling magazines. He thinks he lost them when he turns around and Derek is right there looking at him like he can’t understand why he bothers.

“Hey,” he says, at a loss for words.

“You haven’t been answering your phone,” replies Derek. 

Stiles saw Derek call and immediately rejected the call, hoping to avoid the awkwardness of their conversation. It’s been two years since he last saw him and he looks beautiful as ever, his beard showing some gray hair growing at the sides.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, and you?”

“I’m better.”

He doesn’t look like death warmed over, which is nice, but he still looks haunted and Stiles can’t possibly deal with this, not when seeing him immediately brings back the memories of that day. Stiles can’t look at Derek without feeling guilty for the part he had in his wife’s death.

When Derek doesn’t say anything for the longest time, Stiles speaks up, “why are you here, Derek?”

The man seems to be fighting himself on how to continue this conversation, but in the end, he says, “the guys miss you.”

“Everyone’s come to visit at least once. Even Boyd who fucking hates San Francisco.”

“I’ve missed you,” he adds.

Stiles gapes at him, working his mouth but unable to make any sound.

“You kicked me out.”

“And I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the last six months but you won’t pick up your damn phone.”

“Have you thought that maybe I don’t wanna talk to you?” he asks.

“You don’t?”

“I do, but that’s beside the point.”

Oh, and how Stiles wants to talk to him. He’s been resisting the urge to show up at his door for so long. He thinks he deserves some sort of recognition for his willingness to accept that Derek was right in kicking him out. In the end, it was his fault that Gabriella died.

There’s a long silence that’s interrupted by someone who wants them to move out of the way so they can pass by and buy something in the kiosk. Stiles tilts his head in invitation and starts walking. Derek follows him, catching up to walk beside him.

“How are you?” Stiles asks. “The truth. Not the kind of bullshit you talk to your therapist about.”

“I don’t even have a therapist.”

“Well, that’s part of the problem, man. You can’t just bottle things up until they explode.”

“Do you have a therapist?” Derek asks.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He signals Derek to turn left so they can walk to his street. “There’s someone who knows about the supernatural in every profession. Erica gave me her number.”

“How did Erica—”

“She works with a law firm, Derek. She has seen some shit.”

They arrive at Stiles' building and he glances at the stroller.

“We don’t have an elevator. You’ll have to carry him upstairs.”

Derek gets Eli out of the stroller and passes him to Stiles, who awkwardly holds him for a minute while Derek folds the stroller into a more manageable shape.

When Derek looks back up at him, he stares for a second, as if the image of Stiles holding a baby was too foreign to him.

“Here, take your baby. Someone’s gotta deal with the lock and you don’t know how.”

Stiles, relieved that Derek didn’t question him, takes a moment to regroup before going up a flight of stairs and opening the door for them. Derek lets Eli down and the baby immediately tries to run to the couch but struggles to make it all the way and settles for crawling the rest of the way.

“Is he supposed to give up walking?”

“He’s a baby, Stiles,” he deadpans.

“Fine. Don’t blame me, I’ve never had a kid, I just write for them.”

“How’s the writing going?”

“Excellent, actually. I haven’t written a word for months but it’s going well.” He walks to his fridge and gets himself a beer. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Just water is fine.”

They sit and drink in silence for a while until Stiles can’t stand it any longer.

“Derek, I’m sorry—”

“I’m sorry—” Derek starts, but gets interrupted by Stiles. Stiles wants to laugh, but all he manages is a weak smile.

“Let me go first,” he says. “I’m sorry about Gabriella. Should’ve known she’d see you fighting and come rushing out from the safety of your home. She never trusted me with the wards to begin with—”

“No, Stiles, that isn’t your fault,” Derek interrupts. “She knew about the wards. She should’ve let me handle it. I was her Alpha and I failed her.”

“I brought the Fae to your home,” says Stiles. “They were after me. Not you, not the rest of the pack.”

“You are part of the pack, Stiles.” He looks over to where Eli is playing with one of Stiles’ books. “You are pack and I failed you too.”

“Derek—”

“Stiles, let me finish. I’ve been trying to say this since the moment you left Beacon Hills.” He swallows the rest of his water and continues. “The Fae had probably been around for a couple of weeks before you arrived. I should’ve said something, done something before it got to that.

“I was a lousy Alpha and I know it,” he sighs and before continuing, he goes to Eli and takes the book he is playing with out of his hands. Derek pulls a set of toy keys out of his pocket and passes them to Eli. Stiles’ heart jumps looking at him so comfortable being a dad. “It doesn’t matter what I say or do now, things have changed and I know I can’t expect you to be part of a pack where the Alpha abandoned you, but god, I’ve missed you so much during this time. You were my best friend and I threw that out the window because I couldn’t see clearly and for that I’m sorry.”

Stiles wipes the corner of his eye where tears have welled up. “Derek, I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

There’s a beat of silence where Stiles thinks Derek is listening to his heart before he says. “You know you can come back to Beacon Hills whenever you want, right?”

“Well, you made it very clear what would happen if I stepped foot in town.”

“Forget about that. Even if you don’t want to come back to the pack, that town is yours as much as it’s the pack’s.”

“Do you want me to come back? To the pack, I mean.”

Derek looks at his son then at Stiles.

“The truth is, sometimes I wish I could be back in that car with you before you left for Quantico.”

Stiles’ heart beats faster. He can’t do this. He can’t fall again for Derek’s words. His time away from Beacon Hills has been hard but he’s become a stronger version of himself, he accepted that Derek was the love of his life but that it wasn’t the other way around and he was happy with it. He buried his love for Derek and only occasionally thought of the could-have-beens.

Because he’s a masochist, he asks, “how long are you staying for?”

“I suppose that’s up to you. Look, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. It took me a long time to see it myself, I'm still trying to figure it out, and you wouldn’t answer your damn phone, but I couldn’t text you—”

“Derek, wait. Before you—”

“It’s just—”

“Derek, please. There’s something I have to tell you.” There’s a heavy silence before Stiles spits it out. “I’ve met someone.”

“You’ve met someone?” asks Derek, disbelief dripping from his tone.

“Is that really so hard to believe?”

“A man?” He frowns as if this were a foreign concept to him.

“Yes, a man. A guy.”

“Oh, a guy. He’s a guy now. I see.”

“He’s handsome, he’s charming. He’s French.” Stiles feels like he has to justify his decision, which is stupid considering he hasn’t been around Derek for two years. He’s not his Alpha.

“Oh, French. What does that mean? What, he’s arrogant?”

“No.”

“He smells bad?”

“Derek, why are you being like this?”

“Oh God, you mean he’s sexy. You’re having lots of sex, is that it?”

“Since when do I need to ask your permission? God knows you never asked mine,” says Stiles, annoyed.

There’s a moment when they don’t say anything, they just look at each other and the tension becomes almost palpable in the room.

“Look, don’t you think it’s a good idea? You and me?”

“I do. I did. In the early 10s. Now I’m not so sure.” It hurts to say it but it’s the truth. They could have had it all but they’ve probably changed and grown apart during these years.

If Derek can hear Stiles’ heart rate spike, he doesn’t say anything.

“Look, I better go,” Derek says. “It was selfish of me to drop this on you.”

“Stay for lunch,” he asks, pleads almost. He doesn’t want Derek to go yet because once he’s left it’ll be for good. “You don’t have to leave.”

“I think I do.” He gives Stiles a watery smile.

“I’m sorry, Derek.”

Reaching out to grab his hand, Derek says, “hey, don’t be.”

Stiles gives him a weak smile and Derek lets go of his hand after squeezing once. He picks up his son from the floor and the stroller on the way out. Stiles’ heart clenches at the sight. He could’ve had this, he could’ve had everything with Derek.

Maybe Stiles was still hung up on him, but that didn't mean he'd drop everything because the man showed an interest in him after so long. Stiles had grown into himself and he still had some dignity; he wouldn't be someone's back-up plan.

He walks to his small living room and spots the set of toy keys Eli was playing with and feels a pang in his chest. Derek said he'd go back in time to make things right, but maybe this is the way things should have always been: fated to miss each other for one reason or another. Right now though, Stiles can't stop touching his chest, feeling his heart break all over again. They’re going to leave and never come back. He can’t let that happen.

He can’t let that happen.

Stiles gets his keys from the table and before he knows it, he’s out of the door. He runs down the stairs and he’s out of his building in record time. His eyes search the street and see Derek turning the corner with the stroller. He runs to them, crashing into two people on the way.

“Derek! Wait, Derek!”

The wolf turns around with a question written on his face. When Stiles gets to his side, Derek’s green eyes look cautiously at him.

“I thought I sent you away. Forever,” Stiles says.

There’s a moment where they’re both frozen at the words. Electricity seems to cackle in the space between their bodies. Then Stiles’ hand reaches to touch Derek’s face, stopping less than an inch from him. “May I?”

Derek nods, and Stiles grabs his face then leans in and kisses him.

Stiles always wondered how it felt to stop time, for a moment, they are suspended in all of eternity as they kiss, every second stretching into millions. It’s a short kiss —they’re in the middle of the street and Derek’s attention is on the stroller— but it feels like finally coming home.

“If you lead me on, Derek, I swear to god, I will murder you,” Stiles is firm even when he’s resting his forehead against Derek’s.

“I won’t do that,” he replies.

“You swear?”

“I swear, Stiles.”

They kiss briefly again, and again until a kiss becomes a dozen small pecks on the lips.

And even in the middle of a street, in a city that’s never felt quite his own, he feels safe, at home with Derek.

Summer 2023: Derek

Derek opens the door to let Cora in. “You’re late.”

“You said after seven. This is after seven.” She gives him a sarcastic smile and Derek does the same back at her.

“I’m late to meet Stiles.”

“It’s not like you saw each other what? Eight hours ago?”

“It’s a special evening,” he says, grabbing his wallet and keys from the table.

“He’s gonna say yes.”

“Don’t jinx it,” he gives his son a quick kiss on the top of his head and heads out.

It’s the longest drive to the library ever. When he arrives, Stiles is sitting on the steps that lead to the old building. His head snaps up when he parks next to him, jumping out the steps at a hurried pace.

“For a second I thought you forgot,” says Stiles as soon as he gets in.

“Cora was late.”

“Cora is always late. You should’ve known better.”

They drive to the restaurant bickering about their pack’s tardiness and, to Derek’s ears, they sound married already.

They eat a nice dinner and then Derek drives them to the lookout. They get out of the car and sit on the hood like they’ve done hundreds of times. Derek’s heart is beating double time and his ribcage feels tight like he can’t take a breath.

He turns to Stiles, who’s looking up at the nearly full moon, his hands sweaty. He looks so beautiful illuminated by the moonlight that Derek’s sure his love shows on his face. He’s so irrevocably in love with this man and it doesn’t scare him anymore. He can admit it to himself and he’s ready to show the entire world.

He reaches inside his pocket and his fingers linger on the ring before taking it out. Stiles turns around right then.

“Derek?” he asks cautiously.

“Stiles, you are my best friend, and the only person I can imagine spending the rest of my life with. The last year with you has been a dream come true and I couldn’t have imagined I’d feel happy again after all I’ve been through. But you, Stiles? You make me happy.” He sighs contentedly, giving himself a final second before asking, “will you marry me?”

Stiles’ eyes catch on the silver band that Derek is holding and his eyes sparkle for a second. He laughs then, a full-on, genuine laugh as he reaches into his own pocket and gets a small box out.

“Derek, you are the only person I’ve ever wanted to marry. Will you marry me?” he opens the box and Derek’s eye catches on an almost identical silver band.

Derek laughs then, nodding as he says “yes, yes, I will marry you.”

Stiles gets the ring out and slides Derek’s finger in it. Then he looks at Derek intently, wiggling his fingers, and Derek puts the ring on Stiles.

“God, I can’t believe it only took us, what? Ten years to get here?” Stiles laughs then and all Derek can do is laugh with him, treasuring the moment. He hates that Cora will be insufferable about it in the future, though.

When they finally stop laughing, Stiles leans his head on Derek's shoulder and mumbles, “I love you, Derek.”

“I know. You too.”

Summer 2024: Stiles

Music fills every corner of the Hale property as guests fill in the patio for the reception. Stiles is carrying Eli because he asked nicely and now his suit is all wrinkled and he knows Lydia will have something to say about it. Derek keeps telling him that one day he’ll have to stop being fun stepdad Stiles and become serious stepdad Stiles, but Stiles thinks that can wait another year or so.

He’s being congratulated by Scott’s mom when Lydia signs at him from where she’s directing things, so he leaves Eli with Melissa and goes to her.

“Stiles, your suit, for fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay, I’ll dance without the jacket.”

“Fine, where’s Derek?”

“I’ll go get him.”

He finds Derek in the master bedroom upstairs, sitting down on the bed.

“Are you okay, babe?”

Derek lifts his head and looks at him for a second. “There’s just. People outside.”

“I know. It’s almost like we invited them.”

He knows there’s something else going on, but he lets Derek work through it without pushing.

“I’d rather it was the pack only. I wish my family was still here to see it. Especially Laura.”

“Well, we can kick everyone out if you want.”

Derek smiles then. “Nah, you wouldn’t do that to your dad, would you?”

“For you, Derek, I’d do anything.”

Derek’s smile becomes even brighter. He stands up and grabs Stiles' hand. “Maybe we can leave after the dance? Leave Eli with Melissa and your dad?”

“Yes, a hundred times yes.”

They go down the stairs, say hello to a few people, and then they’re whisked to the makeshift dance floor for their first dance.

They practiced a lot for their first dance —though Lydia would say they lost many minutes during the dance lessons—, and, even if it’s not perfect, Stiles gets the satisfaction of losing himself in Derek’s loving eyes for the duration of the song. Some people cheerfully clap at the end. 

For a moment, it was everything.

They manage to escape without a hitch and Derek drives them to the hotel where they’ll spend the night before driving to their short honeymoon tomorrow morning. Stiles would’ve been okay without a honeymoon, but Derek insisted, so Stiles caved in.

The room is big and luxurious and someone, most likely Lydia, asked for the floor to be covered in rose petals. A bottle of sparkling wine, two flutes on the table, and a spread of chocolate-covered berries completed the picture. It was cheesy —and if it had been a movie, Stiles wouldn’t have believed it— but it made his heart beat double time anyway.

He is celebrating his wedding. To Derek.

He turns around to see Derek taking his jacket off, Stiles’ eyes following the movement, heat pooling in his belly. He just married the most handsome man in the world. This is his husband, the love of his life.

“I’m so in love with you, Derek Hale,” says Stiles.

Derek turns his beautiful green eyes to him, a smile playing on his lips. “Is that so?”

“You have no idea.”

With a huff, he says, “oh, I can imagine.”

Then he closes the distance between them and kisses him. It feels like their first kiss all over again: Stiles pushing against him, Derek grabbing his face, deepening the kiss until they’re both panting.

Derek walks him back, pushing gently until Stiles is sitting on the bed, kicking his shoes off as he does so, then he kneels in front of Stiles and takes his shoes off gently, every movement deliberate. Stiles holds his breath when Derek gets rid of the socks and immediately moves his hands to his pants, unzipping them.

Stiles helps Derek take off his clothes by moving this way and that, however, the main event is Derek, depositing soft kisses along the way: a kiss on Stiles’ knee once he’s out of his pants, on his chest, on his shoulder. Carefully mapping Stiles moles and freckles.

When Stiles is undressed, he scoots back on the bed, watching as Derek takes off his shirt without the care he took with Stiles, ripping a few buttons on the way. It’s a quick affair and Stiles looks at him fascinated: the ripple of muscles as he takes off his briefs, the last piece of clothing separating them.

Derek comes to lie on top of Stiles, every inch of their bodies touching, and he feels Derek’s erection against his hip. He wants to touch him badly, but Derek takes a moment to bury his nose in his neck, breathing him in.

“I want to mark you,” Derek says against his skin. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“God that sounds so hot, Derek, do you have any idea?”

Derek snickers and puts his mouth back on Stiles’ neck. Then he says, his breath hot on Stiles’ skin, “you have to stay still so I won’t puncture the skin. I don’t want to turn you.”

He bites Stiles playfully, sucking marks down his neck that will turn purple in the morning. For a moment, Stiles wonders what it would be like, to have Derek bite hard enough to turn, but he can’t linger on that when Derek sucks a nipple inside his mouth and playfully bites down. 

A moan escapes Stiles and his hips buck up in sync with Derek’s, who uses his advantage to push him down with his hips. Stiles moans again at the friction, throwing his head back for Derek who kisses a trail up to his ear, tongue playing with the shell of his ear, biting the lobe.

“How do you wanna do it?” Derek pants against his ear. The vibrations go down his spine all the way to his toes.

“Fuck me. Either way, I’m not gonna last,” replies Stiles.

“And you think I will?” he bucks his hips down as he says so, his cock heavy, dripping already. A low moan against his ear threatens to tip him over the edge. He loves it when Derek is loud in bed.

“Just fuck me, Derek.”

Derek gets the lube and nudges Stiles’ legs open, positioning himself between them. Instead of using the lube immediately and fucking Stiles silly, he maddeningly kisses the inside of his thighs, the length of his dick, teasing his hole with his tongue. He’s about to ask for more when the first of Derek’s fingers goes in, soft but firm until it is completely inside of Stiles.

His mouth continues to work kisses to the base of his dick, while his finger works his ass in and out, in and out. Stiles’ insides feel increasingly hot. Derek chooses that moment to slide a second finger in, he slides them all the way, curling them when they sit at the base.

“Derek,” he pants. “Oh, fuck, Derek, just—”

“What do you want, baby?” Derek asks from where his nose is buried on Stiles’ pubes, moving his fingers in and out.

“Fuck me. For the love of god, fuck me.”

“How bad do you want me to fuck you?”

“Please, Derek”—Stiles moans mid-sentence, morphing his sentences into slurred words—”pleasefuckme.”

Derek rearranges himself in between Stiles’ legs, and Stiles whines when his fingers withdraw, missing him already, but then the bed dips and Derek lines up, and then he’s filling Stiles up until he’s completely seated.

They kiss deep and slow, for so long that Stiles thinks Derek forgets he’s deep inside Stiles. 

After that mild moment of calm, Derek lets go and fucks him with abandon, no longer teasing, —maintaining intense eye contact that reminds him of the first time they did this—, and the sounds of Derek fucking Stiles fill the room: the guttural growls, the slap of skin on skin, the moaning. Stiles feels particularly fond of Derek —his husband!— moaning while fucking him silly.

He comes with a cry and Derek is not much behind him, with barely enough time to pull out and paint Stiles’ chest with his cum.

Stiles’ brain is still fuzzy when Derek arranges the duvet on top of them so they’re both covered, but he appreciates it all the same. He thinks he mumbles something to Derek, but not even he can make out what it is. 

Later, after a shared shower, they sleep in the soft embrace of the fancy sheets and Stiles thinks he could get used to this: the feeling of warmth in the middle of the night with the love of his life by his side and the soft humming of his heart beating with happiness.