Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everyone thinks Stiles will be the one to cave first, which is exactly why he refuses to. To his (and everyone else’s) surprise, Derek has only been gone for three days when he texts Stiles.

Naturally, Stiles takes the conversation to mean that Derek does, in fact, want to talk to him. Some small, subconscious part of him, anyway. He texts him once every few days, with no replies in between.

After two weeks, he finds himself afraid that Derek won’t contact him again. (Wait, why does that scare him? Psh. He doesn’t care. Really, he doesn’t.) When he finally does reply, bright and early at 7:00 in the morning, of course, he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Stiles sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He’d been hoping that wouldn’t come up. It’s his fault, he supposes, for texting people at all hours of the god damn day.

Derek takes a good fifteen minutes to reply, all of which Stiles spends pacing around his room, worrying. He hasn’t talked to anyone about this; occasionally he’ll get together with Scott and Allison when they’re all feeling especially miserable, but he mostly prefers to just deal with it himself. Getting it off his chest is relieving, but also terrifying. Especially when the person he’s bearing his deepest feelings to is Derek Hale.

Stiles tries to make it at least a day before he goes running to Derek. He really does. But the darkness gets heavier the later it gets, and now that the offer is there, he can’t resist the desire to be comforted.

Minutes later, Stiles’ phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Stiles."

"Derek, hey. Man, it’s good to hear your voice." Jesus. Why does he say things ever? "I mean, not your voice specifically, just good to hear a voice…because, you know, it’s late, and usually there’s no one to talk to, and…” He tries desperately to backpedal, until Derek cuts him off.

"Yeah. You too."

Stiles can hear the sincerity in his voice, and no, it does not give him butterflies, thank you very much.

"So, anyway, I’m sorry for waking you up."

"You didn’t."

"Ah, you seemed so concerned about me staying up at all hours of the night, but you do it too, eh?"

"Not exactly. I stayed awake in case you needed me."

And that, well, that surprises Stiles. Because he didn’t know what he was expecting from this whole “tell me when you’re having trouble sleeping” thing, but it wasn’t this. Nonetheless, he’s knocked uncharacteristically speechless for a minute.

"I…" he trails off, searching for words. "You didn’t have to do that."

"I didn’t do it because I had to."

"Well, thanks. It means a lot. Seriously, dude."

"It’s no problem."

Suddenly, miraculously, Stiles finds himself yawning.

"Tired?"

"Little bit, yeah."

"When you can’t sleep, is it because you can’t sleep, or because you’re afraid to sleep?"

Huh. He’s not entirely sure, actually.

"Both, maybe? I’ve had insomnia since my mom died, but now it’s way more intense. Every time I close my eyes, I see everything I’ve tried so hard to forget. Lydia laying on the lacrosse field, covered in blood. Isaac coming after me that time at the police station. That mechanic dying right in front of me. Boyd trying to drown himself in that fucking motel bathroom. Scott, all broken and bloody and refusing to let himself heal. You…"

"Me?"

"It’s stupid, I know, with all the other, immensely more depressing things on that list, but…you leaving."

It’s silent for longer than Stiles is particularly comfortable with, but he can’t bring himself to speak.

"I know you said you didn’t mind, but I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye."

"Derek Hale, apologizing? That’s a new one."

"Shut up, Stiles."

"Yeah. Anyway, you don’t have to be sorry. You had bigger things on your mind than little old me."

"Don’t do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like you’re not important."

Stiles can’t help but smirk.

"Are you saying that I’m important?"

He can practically hear Derek roll his eyes.

"I’m saying that what I did was wrong."

"Hey, I’ll take what I can get."

"Good choice. So, I’m kind of exhausted. I’ll probably fall asleep soon, but feel free to keep talking as long as you like."

"For once, I’m kind of feeling all talked out. But can you just…can you just not hang up? So we can just…fall asleep together? Or is that weird? Oh, god, that’s weird, isn’t it? Forget it, you can just—"

"It’s fine, Stiles. I don’t mind."

"Are you sure? Because I don’t want to waste your minutes or anything."

"Goodnight, Stiles."

"Yeah. Yeah, goodnight."

For the first time since the sacrifice, Stiles sleeps through the night easily.

Chapter Text

Derek's eating breakfast when Stiles texts him. Cora, ever sticking her nose into Derek's business, glances down at the screen to see who it was he was talking to. When she sees Stiles' name, she raises an eyebrow.

He glares at her until she returns her attention to her cereal without a word.

Derek rolls his eyes halfheartedly. Lately, he's finding his annoyance with Stiles less and less genuine. It's probably just because he's not around to be irritating in person, he figures.

After five minutes of staring at the "..." that indicates that Stiles is typing (Cora had to teach him what that meant), Derek figures he's probably writing a god damn dictionary of Internet lingo. So he sets his phone down on the crappy motel nightstand and picks up The Silence of the Lambs.

The next time he looks at the clock, it's almost noon. He curses, grabs his phone faster than he cares to admit.

He finds himself laughing fondly at the kid. Nonetheless, he has to play the broody werewolf part, so he replies with just a No.

This time, it's Stiles that doesn't reply, and Derek is almost, maybe, possibly a little bit worried that he pissed him off. Grudgingly, he texts him again.

Stiles finally texts back half an hour later, and Derek would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved.

Suddenly, this conversation seems to be bordering on domestic, and Derek's not sure how he feels about that. Luckily, Stiles takes care of that effortlessly.

His phone rings around midnight, right as Cora's getting ready to go to bed. She groans, mutters "Who in the holy hell...?" before Derek shushes her and presses the answer button.

"Hey."

"Hey. Alright, I've got popcorn and the pilot of Breaking Bad ready to be played. Let's do this."

"I don't have any way to watch it."

Stiles' mouth is gaping, he can tell.

"Please tell me you have Netflix."

Derek says nothing.

"I'll take your silence as a no. Jesus, Derek. Get with the times. Okay, you can use my account. You know how to get there, at least, yeah? Netflix.com?"

"Yes, Stiles," he says bitterly, walking over to sit at the makeshift dining room table and open his laptop.

"Hey, I gotta cover all my bases with you. Okay. Email, [email protected]. Password is 'Allison,' and stop smirking, it's a joke. A pretty damn funny one, too, as far as I'm concerned. Anyway, I'm providing you with free television here, so your making fun of me privileges are revoked as of now."

Derek tries and fails to wipe the grin off his face. "You talk too much," he says, fondly.

"You're not the first to tell me that, buddy. Okay, you get it? Are you ready now?"

He grabs his headphones from across the table and plugs them into the laptop, taking pity on Cora. "I'm ready."

"Alright, play."

The episode starts, and a few minutes into it, Derek starts to make a comment, but is immediately shushed by Stiles.

"No talking during TV shows, dude. Only at the end. Or commericals, but that doesn't apply here. Shh."

He means it, too. True to his word, the hyperactive teenager that can never, never stop talking, just...stops talking. For almost an hour, he doesn't say a word. It's almost worrisome, but Derek gets it. Stiles is really into this stuff. And whereas a few months ago, he would have given him shit for it, now...now he admires it.

So they watch the episode over the phone in silence, and once it's over, they discuss. And then they watch another episode, and discuss. And another, and another, and then suddenly it's 6:00 AM and they're done with season one.

"They ended a season like that? But...how?"

Stiles laughs. "Trust me, I know."

It's quiet for a minute or two before Stiles speaks again.

"Alright, well, I should probably go get ready for school now."

Jesus. Derek didn't even think about that.

"You should have gone to sleep. At least for awhile."

Stiles snorts. "Fuck sleep."

Derek smiles sadly. "It's not healthy, doing what you're doing."

"Thanks for the concern, dad. I'll be fine. Anyway, I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"Night."

Not long after he's hung up, he gets a text message.

I was too chicken shit to say it out loud, but...thank you for hanging out with me tonight. I know I was supposed to be helping you (and I did, because everyone needs Breaking Bad in their life, I mean come on), but we both know this whole thing was more for me. So, anyway, thanks.

Derek smiles harder than he has in a long time, and if he stays up for the rest of the day without sleeping because he doesn't want Stiles to be the only one to have to do it, that's no one's business but his own.

Chapter Text

Stiles is pretty far gone.

Scott had texted him that afternoon, said the darkness was overpowering him today, that he needed to go out and try to put it out of his mind. So they went out, drove around until they came across some rager/rave type thing (Is there a difference between the two? Stiles doesn't have a clue, he doesn't go to these things) in the park and decide to go for it. Seeing as Scott's inability to get drunk makes him the most reliable designated driver in the history of ever, Stiles figures there's no harm in getting wasted. He might as well, right?

Scott doesn't quite agree when he's driving Stiles home later.

"You know I hate taking care of your drunk ass, right?" he asks as he pulls into Stiles' driveway.

Stiles smirks. "You're just jealous because you're no longer capable of having a drunk ass."

"Whatever, dude," Scott says, but he's laughing. "See you at school Monday."

"Yep. I'll be there. Later, buddy," Stiles replies, stumbling as he walks toward the front door.

Once he makes it into his room, he checks his phone and proceeds to fist pump victoriously, because fuck yes, iOS7 is finally available.

An hour and a half later, he's kicking himself, because it's still not done installing, and he hasn't talked to Derek all day, and he wants to get a chance to text him before Derek goes to sleep. (Normally, he'd at least try to deny it, but the alcohol has pretty much taken a baseball bat to his already very limited mental filter.)

It takes another forty-five minutes before Stiles is scrolling through his updated phone, smiling contently because it's so awesome, and because now he can talk to Derek.

And, okay. Normally, Stiles would never. The winking emoji? No. He would absolutely never. But, hey. He can't be held accountable right now. And, besides, Derek started it.

He snorts, because Derek being concerned still feels so foreign to him. And a little unsettling, really. So he does what he does best; deflects.

Damn. He thought he'd been acting so normal. That picture of Derek, though. He opens it up about ten times just to admire that smile. It's kind of comforting, to see him looking the opposite of the way Stiles so constantly feels now. At least one of them can be happy.

Stiles is pretty positive he should have ended the conversation by this point; he's saying so many things he shouldn't be. But, yet, he can't bring himself to. Because he's saying all these things, but Derek's sticking around. Not completely dismissing him. And that's really encouraging, somehow.

He can't help but laugh, because of course Derek would want to keep such a good attribute a secret.

That's fair, Stiles thinks. He is being a little weird. Still, though, as soon as he's gone, the loneliness creeps back up on him. He groans dramatically, flops down on his bed, and prepares himself for another night of tossing and turning.

He sleeps from 2:00-5:00 (three hours is actually pretty good for him, he's not complaining) and immediately grabs his phone once willing himself back to sleep proves unsuccessful around 6:00. He takes a minute to swoon over iOS7 a little bit more, then reluctantly goes to read through what he sent to Derek last night.

He can't help but sigh at himself, because seriously? He called him incredible? Jesus. Scott so should have stayed with him last night. Friends don't let friends drunk text. Then again, Scott has no idea that Stiles has talked to Derek since he left. Ugh. Guess there's no one to blame but himself.

In other news, his head is killing him. He goes down to the kitchen to get some aspirin and a glass of water, and almost misses it when Derek calls. He sees his phone lit up and vibrating on his nightstand when he walks back into the room and surges forward to grab it, escalating the pain in his head by a factor of a million.

"Ugh. Hello?"

"Figured you'd be up. How's the hangover?"

"It fucking sucks, thank you for asking!" Stiles says, faking enthusiasm.

He hears Derek laugh quietly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I. I'm sorry, for, you know. Drunk texting. S'never good. I'm surprised you let it go on for as long as you did, though, honestly."

"I just wanted to be there in case you wanted to talk about it. Like I am now. Though you keep changing the subject."

"I don't really know what there is to say. I mean, you know what's going on. With the whole permanent darkness around my freaking heart thing. It's, well, dark. Not exactly an easy thing to cope with."

"I know. I just want to help."

Stiles sighs. "I'm a major asshole."

"Yeah. Kind of."

He cracks a smile. "I get it, that you're trying to help. And I get that you're not very good at it. But that makes it mean more, I think. That you're willing to step out of your comfort zone and try."

"Yeah."

"Someone's talkative this morning."

"Someone's sarcastic this morning."

"That's an always thing, dude."

"And my not being talkative isn't?"

"I mean, it is. But it isn't. You talk to me a pretty decent amount, nowadays. Kind of ironic, actually. When you were here, it was like talking to me was a hardship. But then you leave, which gives you a permanent out, and you decide to keep in contact with me willingly."

"It's easier from a distance. Saying things. Being honest."

"Yeah, I get that. So. I have a question, then."

"That's never good."

Stiles grins. He can't resist. "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

"I'm hanging up now."

"Hey, no, wait! I mean, I said the same thing, and much worse. The least you can do is admit it."

He hears Derek sigh like this is literally going to be the death of him. "Yes, Stiles, you are attractive."

Even though he knew it was coming, he's still taken aback. "I...huh. Really?"

"Is there a particular reason that's so surprising?"

"Just, I don't know. Didn't think someone like you would think so."

"Someone like me?" Derek asks, and Stiles honestly can't tell if he's trying to pull it out of him or if he's genuinely oblivious.

"Yeah, I mean. You're practically a model, you know. Like, next level attractive."

Now, Derek is aware of how good looking he is. Stiles knows that much for sure. However, the brief pause Derek takes suggests that he wasn't expecting that from Stiles at all.

"You're an idiot," he says.

"I know." Stiles doesn't ask for an explanation. He can't.

"Do you have much homework?"

"No, I did it all before I went out last night."

"Good. Breaking Bad?"

"Yeah." Stiles smiles. "Yeah."

They're at the beginning of season three by the end of the day, the awkward atmosphere long gone.

Chapter Text

Stiles calls him before he leaves for school that morning. Derek mutes the TV to answer the phone, despite Cora's violent protest.

"Morning."

"Good morning to you! How are you?"

Derek raises a brow. "You're happy today."

"Today, Derek, is going to be a good day. I can feel it. Anyway, you didn't answer my question. How are you? Oh, and how's Cora, by the way?"

"She's right here, actually, if you want to talk to her."

"Oooh, yes please. Speakerphone!"

Derek obliges, looking over at Cora by way of telling her to say hello.

"Hi, Stiles."

"Cora, hey! How are you doing? It's been awhile."

"I'm good," she says, and she's smiling. Derek knows, even though she won't admit it, that she misses him. And the others.

He knows because he feels the same way.

"How about you?" she asks.

"I'm hangin' in there. I'm sure Derek's told you all about it."

"He hasn't, actually. As a matter of fact, he's been pretty secretive when it comes to you two's little conversations," she says, winking at Derek.

He glares at her, because seriously? Why would she even say that?

"Ah. I've done the same thing, I guess. No one knows I've even talked to him since he left."

"Hm. Why is that?" she asks, and Derek could kill her, he swears.

"We all kind of had this agreement not to make contact with you guys. Moving on, and all that jazz."

That's interesting, because Scott's called him once or twice since they've been gone. He decides not to mention that for now.

"We're that disposable, eh?" Cora asks, and it sounds like a joke on the surface, but Derek can hear the honesty in it.

"I couldn't stay away, so obviously not."

They both smile at that. (Derek also takes a moment to appreciate Stiles not letting slip that he had been the one to contact Stiles first.)

"Alright, well, I'd better be off to school." He fakes a gagging noise. "But Cora, get my number from Derek and text me so I have yours, okay?"

"I will. Bye, Stiles."

"Bye, Cora. It was good talking to you. Bye, Derek!"

"Bye, Stiles. Have a good day at school."

After he hangs up, he tries not to be upset that he'd barely gotten to talk to Stiles, because being upset about that would be silly.

Unfortunately, it's not really working. Cora notices.

"Sorry I took away valuable talk time with your boy toy," she says with a smile.

"I hate you," he replies, getting off of the motel bed and slipping his leather jacket on so he can get out of here. He's not here for this. (When the hell did he start thinking in Stiles' stupid Internet lingo?)

"Hate me all you want, but you've got it bad, and you know it. Have a good day at school? Seriously?"

He growls, doesn't give himself a chance to realize how right she is. "I'll be back later," he says, and walks out the door, phone forgotten on his nightstand.

When Stiles texts him that night, two things stick out. First, is the fact that Stiles didn't have nearly as good a day as he had thought he would this morning. And second, Cora had changed Stiles' name in his phonebook while he'd been gone. (In retrospect, that was probably on him; Laura's birthday is way too easy a password to crack.) He goes to change it back to what it had been before, but pauses. Cora probably figured he wouldn't know how to (everyone assumes he's way more technologically challenged than he actually is), so he may as well just leave it. Cora never has to know.

Derek understands that those are problems, sure, but they're not nearly as bad as they could be. There aren't any alpha packs around, or kanimas, or darachs, or anything trying to hurt them. To Derek, that's a victory.

Derek sighs. This isn't exactly the conversation he'd been wanting to have all day.

He's really surprised, he's not going to lie. According to Scott, Stiles has had a crush on her for the better part of a decade. (And he's not lying about Stiles' love life just "coming up"; Scott was updating him on everything going on in Beacon Hills, and he mentioned Lydia finally kissing Stiles in the locker room, and how it probably never would have happened otherwise, because Stiles isn't a person that can make a move, ever. If Derek asked him to elaborate on that, well, that's a different story.)

Derek wonders when the hell this became his life, letting a damn teenager confide in him, and confiding in him right back.

He's so sick of hearing people tell him it's not his fault.

He doesn't want to talk about this right now. He's too tired. He knows he should at least tell Stiles that he's going to bed, but he can't bring himself to. If he knows Stiles (and he's pretty sure he does at this point, wow, when did that happen), he'll understand.

Derek replies first thing when he wakes up, though he really, really doesn't want to.

Derek has to stop and just take a minute, because does that mean what he thinks it means? He wants to ask Cora, but every bone in his body tells him not to give her such a golden opportunity to tease him.

He means it.

Chapter Text

Stiles groans dramatically, throwing his pencil onto his desk in annoyance. His calculus teacher had given them thirty minutes of free time to work on their homework, which would be great, except for the fact that he had left his damn textbook at home. Not that anyone's actually working; but Stiles doesn't feel like talking to anyone. None of his real friends are in this class with him, and the acquaintances he usually chats with are being even more douchey than usual. Fuck high school.

He stares at his phone sitting on his desk, eyes wide, willing a text from Scott (or better, Derek) to pop up.

Five minutes later, Derek really does text him. For a minute, Stiles is ecstatic at his new found telepathic abilities, but then he reads the message, and the smile falls off his face.

Stiles winces, because he knows those fights. He has them with his dad occasionally, when one of them brings up Claudia at the wrong time.

He can picture it, honestly. Cora telling Derek that she might want to come back to Beacon Hills, and him just shutting her down. Still, he's trying to be supportive here. That's what friends do, right? (It's weird - he's normally pretty decent at being a good friend, but it feels like there's a whole different etiquette for being a good friend to Derek Hale, and he definitely never got the handbook.)

He actually changes his mind at the last minute and asks to go to the library instead, because he isn't sure how long this conversation is going to last. He walks out to the parking lot as fast as he can without looking suspicious (though he probably looks suspicious anyway) and hops into his Jeep before dialing Derek's number.

"Hey," Derek says, and his voice is quiet. Unnervingly quiet.

"Hey, buddy." His eyes widen in spite of himself, because did he seriously just call him buddy? "What's going on?"

He expects Derek to deflect, but he just jumps right into it. Huh. That's new.

"I told her that I had been thinking that I may be ready to go back to Beacon Hills soon, and she said she didn't feel that way yet. She asked me why, and I said because it's home. And because we left so many people behind."

Hm. So it was the opposite of what Stiles thought. He nods, even though Derek can't see him. "Yeah. Scott and Isaac miss you, and I know you miss them too."

"Yeah," Derek says, but it sounds halfhearted. "And, you know, you."

Stiles feels his cheeks heating up, and he has no idea what to say that. (He should start a tally of how many times Derek renders him speechless. Not many people can do it, and yet he seems to do so almost daily.)

"Anyway, she told me I was being selfish. That I should put my family before my...well, to quote her...my boyfriend and his posse."

Stiles chokes on his spit, because he's about 96% sure that Cora wasn't talking about Isaac or Scott when she said 'boyfriend.'

"I, uh..." He stutters intelligently, grateful when Derek cuts him off.

"I mean, I know I'm a shitty brother. But what does she expect? I don't even remember how to be a member of a family. It's been so long."

Apparently they're not going to talk about the boyfriend thing, which Stiles is fine with. He is completely, completely fine with burying that.

"So, she thinks I don't give a damn about her. That you're more important to me." He pauses for a moment too long before adding "And Scott and Isaac."

"So, just to be clear...you wanted to come home, for me?" He asks, then tacks on "And Scott, and Isaac?" though it's hardly needed anymore.

"I was considering it." He hears Derek sigh. "I can't, though. I can't make Cora think she's right. I can't leave her."

Stiles does his best to hide his disappointment. (He still doesn't know if the 'werewolf picking up on lies' thing works over the phone.) "Yeah, no, of course. She needs you." But so do I, he thinks.

"I don't know how to--I just feel like I'm doing everything wrong with her."

"Yeah, teenage girls can do that to you," Stiles says, and they both chuckle. "You're doing fine, Derek. It's a tough situation. And I think traveling eight million miles away from home with her just to give her a break from everything is a pretty damn good example of making an effort."

Derek snorts. "I'm not eight million miles away, Stiles."

"Feels like you are." The words tumble out of his mouth before he has a chance to realize he probably should have kept it to himself.

"I'll come back. I just don't know when."

Stiles knows he shouldn't say it, but he does anyway. "Would you consider, like, a short visit, at least? Because I have a four day weekend coming up, and we could, I don't know, see a movie or something. Oooooh, or watch Breaking Bad. I've put off watching the series finale so that I can watch it with you, for Christ's sake. I can't wait much longer."

"You didn't watch that live? Wow. I'm impressed. You must really like me."

"Yeaaaah." He means for it to sound sarcastic, but it comes out fondly. Damn it.

"I can do a visit. Just let me know when."

Stiles can't even help it, he fucking beams. "Yeah, definitely. Prepare to have your mind blown by season five. There's this episode where they steal methylamine from a train while it's moving, it's freaking insane, and--"

He's cut off by the shrill sound of the bell signaling the end of the period.

"Shit. I forgot to go back to class. I gotta go."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to keep you that long." He hears Derek take a deep breath. "Stiles?"

"Yeah?" he asks, jumping out of his car and shutting the door behind him.

"Thanks for listening."

He smiles. "Any time, dude. I mean it, okay? I'm here whenever you need."

"Yeah. Stay out of trouble."

"You too. Later."

Stiles decides to tell Scott about Derek at lunch. He figures that's the best time, because they sit with Allison, and he's banking on her distracting Scott enough that he can casually slip it in unnoticed.

"So, I've been talking to Derek," he says, while the two of them are looking into each others' eyes and laughing.

Both of their heads snap up to look at him at lightning speed.

"You what?" Scott asks.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Don't act so innocent. He told me you've talked to him, too. Thanks for discussing my barely existent love life with him, by the way."

Scott grins at him sheepishly. "Sorry, buddy. Anyway, I just wanted to keep him updated. It's only been a couple of times. That's probably what you've been doing too. Right?"

"Mhm," he says around a mouthful of pizza, hoping that'll cover up the lie.

"Stiles."

Okay, guess that doesn't work either. (He's running out of ideas of ways to pull off lying to a werewolf.)

"Alright, so we're kind of...friends."

Allison raises a brow. "You've got to be kidding," she says.

"No. I mean, we text each other, call each other, watch TV with each other. There's definite friendship taking place."

"Uh huh," Scott says, and Stiles hates that know-it-all tone. "And this friendship, that's all it is? Friends?"

"Yes, Scott."

"Okay. Is that all you want it to be?"

Stiles groans, because there's no way out of that question. "I plead the fifth. And I hate you."

Later, when Stiles is driving him home from school, he brings it up again.

"It's cool, you know. That you like Derek."

"I didn't realize I needed your permission," Stiles says, and it sounds a bit too harsh.

"You don't, I just...this is the only person you've ever liked other than Lydia. You know? When you fall for someone, you fall hard. And I just don't want him to hurt you. But I trust you, and I...I think I trust him, too. So, you know, it's cool."

Stiles can't help but smile, because he seriously loves mature Scott.

"Thanks, Scotty boy."

"You got it," Scott says. "Does he...does he know?"

Stiles isn't entirely sure, honestly.

"That's debatable. I haven't come out and said it, but I'm not always subtle, either. He's coming to see me on the long weekend, though, hopefully."

"Oh my god." Stiles glances at Scott out of the corner of his eye. "You're gonna go on a date."

Stiles does that choking on his spit thing again. He really needs to stop that. "It's not a date."

Scott looks at him like he's insane. "Dude. He's driving god knows how far just to come spend time with you. It's a date."

Stiles slams on the brakes, because honestly, he can't. "Just for that, you can walk the rest of the way home." (It'd be a lot more effective if he was farther than a street or so away from Scott's house, but whatever.) "It is not a date, and seriously, you know that I hate, you, right?"

Scott's laughing as he hops out of the car. "You've mentioned it once or twice."

"Good. Fucker."

"Love you, too. See you tomorrow," Scott singsongs to him as he drives away.

Scott's an idiot. It's not a date, right?

He's, like, 60% sure it's not a date.

Chapter Text

Cora's still not talking to him on his birthday, so he's really not expecting anything.

If he were smart, he would have foreseen this, but Stiles surprised him. Stiles always surprises him.

He had texted him some time last week, but Derek hadn't thought anything of it.

He'd sounded pretty desperate, and besides, Derek trusted Stiles at this point. So he had given him the motel's address without a second thought.

The morning of his birthday, though, he gets a call from the front desk telling him that they have a package for him, and he just knows.

Carrying the package back to his and Cora's room, he briefly wonders how Stiles even knows his birthday.

Cora isn't here (she hasn't been since yesterday, and Derek has no idea where she went), so at least he doesn't have to subject himself to teasing as he grabs a pair of scissors and opens the box.

At the top is a letter.

Hey, Sourwolf.

Happy birthday, dude! 24, yeah? Damn, you're old. I forget that sometimes. I bet you're wondering how I even know when your birthday is. That would be thanks to police records, my friend. Being the sheriff's son has its perks sometimes. Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone. You won't get bombarded with presents or cake or anything. I'm guessing that wouldn't be a dream come true for you. You do have to deal with my presents, though.

I didn't know exactly what to get you, but I did my best. About the...well, you'll know what I'm talking about when you see it. I'm sorry if it went over the line, crossed a boundary or something. The intention wasn't to make you upset or uncomfortable, I just wanted you to realize that you didn't ruin their lives, Derek. They needed what you gave them, they needed you. And they were happy with you. (Also, tell Cora not to be mad. I would have included her too, but I didn't have any pictures of her.)

Anyway, do me a favor and don't be Sir Grumps-a-lot today. Enjoy yourself. You deserve it. I want you to be as happy as you were in those pictures, alright? I mean it. Happy birthday, Derek. Miss you.

Stiles

There's a pit in Derek's stomach the size of Texas, because Jesus, it's been awhile since someone's cared enough to do something like this. To go this out of their way to do something nice for him. He sets the letter on the table, hands shaking ever so slightly, and goes to look inside the box.

There are a number of items in the box, each with a blue sticky note stuck onto it, with Stiles' handwriting scribbled across them. (It figures that even when he's writing, the kid can't help but ramble.)

The first thing Derek pulls out is a Beacon Hills newspaper from a few days ago. The sticky note says It's kind of boring. Not much happening here lately. But I figure you'll like that.

Derek smiles, setting the paper aside to take out the next item, which he discovers to be all six seasons of Lost.

You mentioned you liked it once. If you ever need a watching partner, you know I'm there.

At first glance, Derek thinks the next thing in the box is Stiles' lacrosse jersey. But that's...it couldn't be. That wouldn't make any sense. Girlfriends wear their boyfriend's jerseys, and Derek is most definitely not some ditzy high school girl dating the captain of the team.

That's exactly what it is, though. Once he takes it out of the box, Derek can see the 24, and...oh. He's suddenly hit with the overwhelming scent of Stiles. He's practically dizzy with it, and it makes him realize how much he'd missed it.

To remind you of me. And of home. It's kind of big on me, so it should fit you. Because, you know, I'm sure you didn't bring all your clothes with you. So here's one more to put into the rotation, if you need it.

Derek can't help but laugh, because it's kind of hilarious how inclined Stiles feels to explain himself. He could have stopped the note after the first two sentences and that's all Derek would have needed. (Maybe even just the first sentence.)

What really gets him, though, is the final item. He takes it out of the box and nearly drops it in shock.

It's a picture frame type thing, with room for three pictures. He's in all of them, and standing next to him are his pack. Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. Above the pictures, in big, capital letters, is the word family.

Derek can remember when each of these pictures were taken like they were yesterday.

The one with Erica was at some fancy restaurant he'd never been to before. He had come home one day to find her on his couch. She was wearing a nice dress, but her hair was up in a messy bun and there were tears staining her face. For a brief moment, he'd considered telling her to get the hell out, but he asked her what was wrong instead. She told him that some douchebag stood her up (her words, not his). So he pulled the jacket he had just taken off back on and stretched out a hand to her.

"Where are we going?" she'd asked.

"On the date you should have gotten."

She'd stared at him. "I...Derek, I look like hell."

He shook his head. "You look beautiful. You always do. Come on."

She raised a brow, but took his hand anyway.

They'd spent the night talking, and laughing, and Derek may have subtly hinted that Boyd wouldn't stand her up, that he'd be good to her. That he's seen the way they look at each other.

When they got up to leave, Derek had told her to get out her phone.

She'd pulled it out of her purse and passed it to him, looking confused. "What for?"

"To make that asshole jealous," he'd said, tapping the camera icon. "Smile."

He'd held out the phone, flashing his best, most charming smile before snapping the picture.

"There," he'd said, handing it back to Erica. "Post it on Facebook, or whatever. Make him regret it."

She'd grinned at him, and said "You're a good alpha, Derek."

The middle picture was Guy's Night Out, minus Stiles. (He'd been grounded for lying to his dad, and they'd all felt awful, but he'd told them to go have fun.) They'd gone to some street fair in town in the name of fried food. They ate corn dogs and funnel cake until they felt sick, and then tried to walk it off. Scott had found a stand selling baseball caps with the letter 'S' on it.

"Hey! S for Scott!" He'd been so excited, running off to buy one.

"What do they actually stand for?" Boyd had asked, eager to rain on Scott's parade.

But Scott had just shrugged. "I dunno. Oh, wait! I should get one for Stiles too!"

He'd come back, one hat on his head and one in his hand, looking pleased with himself.

"Wait," he'd said, content smile falling from his face. "I don't wanna have to carry this around."

Without warning, he ran over and stuck the other hat on Derek's head.

"Much better." He glanced at Derek once he'd backed up and his face broke out in a grin. "Oh, this is too good. We need a picture."

Scott had pulled out his phone and held it up, telling Derek and Boyd to "Look happy, both of you, or I'll kill you. None of that mug shot crap you're always pulling."

Isaac had jumped in at the last second, ever the photobomber.

"I think that's the happiest I've ever seen either of you," Scott had said with a smile, turning the phone around to show them. "That deserves a slow clap."

Isaac joined him in slow clapping, chiming in with "The grumps know how to smile! It's a miracle!"

Derek had merely rolled his eyes, chuckling.

The last one was at the ice skating rink. Boyd was teaching a kid's skating lesson that day, and his TA had canceled on him, so Derek had volunteered to help. He liked kids. He always had. Kids were less likely to play you, deceive you, ruin you.

Derek had been surprised to learn, however, that Boyd felt the same way to some degree. When he was at work, with the kids, he smiled a hell of a lot more.

"Don't even think about mocking me," he'd said threateningly to Derek.

And Derek didn't want him to feel like he needed to defend himself. He wanted him to feel comfortable around him, around pack. So he did the same thing. He opened himself up for an hour that day.

The pair of them were all laughs, and it was so, so strange, but it was nice. Boyd lifted a little girl up and twirled her around, while Derek held a boy's hand to help him skate around the ice. They'd even messed around with each other, racing each other and pushing each other until they landed on their asses ("Bottoms, Boyd, that's a bad word").

By the time the hour was up, none of the kids wanted to leave. They'd even started a chant of "Stay with Boyd and Derek!"

They'd both hugged all of them on their way out the door, and before they left, the manager came up and told them what a great job they'd done. She'd asked if she could take a picture of them and honor them as employees of the week. They'd shrugged and said why not, and Derek decided to keep it to himself that he didn't actually work here.

They'd smiled for the picture, and smiled as they said goodbye to each other.

The next day at the pack meeting, they were both back to their constant straight faces, and neither of them said a word about it.

When Derek comes back to reality, he realizes there are tears in his eyes. And of course, Cora chooses that moment to walk back into the motel room.

"Are you alright? What's all this?" she asks, gesturing to Stiles' presents laying on the table. After observing everything for a moment or two, she gasps.

"Jesus. It's your...I completely forgot. I'm so sorry, Derek."

Derek just shrugs. He doesn't trust himself to speak right now; he's still choked up.

She takes a step closer timidly. "I didn't blow it off just because I was mad at you, I swear, I would never. I just forgot. I mean, it's been awhile since I've celebrated your birthday with you, you know? I'm so, so sorry."

Derek clears his throat, willing himself to be able to speak again. "It's fine, Cora. Really." When he sees that she doesn't feel any better, he adds "I don't remember your birthday, either, so that makes us even, right?"

She laughs. "I guess so. It's March 19th, by the way."

"Noted."

"Hey, come here," Cora says, pulling him into a hug. "Happy birthday."

Derek smiles, kisses her on the forehead. "Thank you."

When they pull away, he adds, "I'm going to call Stiles now, and you don't get to make fun of me. Got it?"

"Yeah," she grumbles.

He smirks, then pulls out his phone and dials Stiles' number.

When Stiles answers, he starts singing immediately.

"Haaaaappy birthday to you, haaaappy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Derek, happy birthday to yooooouuuu!"

Derek shakes his head fondly. "Thanks, Stiles."

"You got it, dude. How's your day? D'you get my package?"

"It's good. Cora and I made up, I think. I got it."

"That's awesome. Good for y'all. Ah, so you're either calling to thank me or to yell at me."

"Why would I yell at you?"

"For...you know. The thing."

"I'm not going to yell at you. I...love it, actually."

He can hear Stiles breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank God. Do you really? That's awesome. I just figured, you know, you're always saying that 'it's my fault' bullshit. And while, yes, some of the bad things to happen to them wouldn't have happened had you never turned them, some of the good things wouldn't have happened, either."

"I know."

"I mean it, dude, they needed someone like you to--wait, you know?"

Derek nods, then realizes Stiles can't see him. "Yeah. You're helping me realize that, finally. So I guess that's another thank you I owe you."

Stiles laughs. "You owe me infinite thank yous. But I owe you just as many."

"Probably," Derek agrees. "When was that weekend that you wanted me to come see you?"

"Next weekend. And you better not stand me up." Subconsciously, Derek finds himself thinking of the night he told Erica that Boyd would never stand him up, and realizing that the same is true for him and Stiles. He couldn't do it if he tried. "Because if you do, I'm watching the finale without you. I can't wait any longer."

"I'll be there," Derek says, smiling. "Do you want me to pick you up from school on Friday?"

"Uh, how about yes. I have plans with Lydia Friday night, actually, but I can cancel. It's not important."

Derek's heart soars at that, because Stiles finds him more important than his crush of ten years. Even if he's over her, that's pretty significant.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, dumbass."

Derek grins. "Okay. I'll see you then."

"Looking forward to it. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Alright. Happy birthday, Derek."

"Thanks. Bye."

Cora's staring at him when he hangs up, and he figures now's as good a time as any.

"So, since you didn't get me a birthday present, your gift can be to let me visit Stiles next weekend with no bitching, no fighting, and no smartass comments."

"Fine," she says. "You're lucky I love you so much."

That's the first time she's said that to him since she's been back. Derek hasn't heard those words in so long, and god, they feel good.

"I love you too," he says, hoping it brings her the same joy, and the huge smile on her face tells him that it does.

He hangs the picture frame on the wall by the dining room table with a smile on his face, and Cora watches Lost with him for the rest of the night.

It's the best birthday he's had in a long time.

Chapter Text

Honestly, Stiles has been steps away from a panic attack all day.

It's not so much that he's scared Derek won't show, he's more scared that he will. Because, yes, he wants to see him, but this cyber friendship they've had going on has been so nice. So easy. And being together in person again could shatter that. Damn it, why did he ever ask Derek to come visit anyway?

Stiles knows he's being stupid, because what kind of friendship is it if you can't be around each other? Still, that doesn't stop him from nearly seizing when Derek texts him around 11:00 to let him know that he's on his way.

Paying attention in class isn't even a possibility. He can't do anything but sit there, leg bouncing up and down subconsciously, staring out the window. Isaac keeps side-eyeing him; Stiles guesses it's because his heart is pounding so hard. That's gotta be annoying. How do werewolves ever pay attention to anything? Stiles can't even do it without the super hearing.

"Dude," Isaac says, once the bell rings and they're walking out of class. "Are you okay?"

"Yep. Yeah. Uh-huh. I'm good."

"Right." Isaac nods, pretending he isn't aware that Stiles' answer was bullshit. (That's one of the reasons Stiles loves Isaac; he can tell when he shouldn't push things.) "I'm here if you need me, though, yeah?"

"I know, man. Thanks," Stiles says, waving goodbye to him as they part ways.

Scott brings it up at lunch, too.

"Seriously, man, cool it with the heartbeat. Are you dying? Is this because of your date with Derek?"

Stiles glares.

"Not a date, Scott."

"My ass."

"Your ass is what's going to be kicked in a minute, if you don't let it go," Stiles says, trying to sound as tough as he can muster.

Scott softens, starts being serious. "Stiles, why are you being so defensive about this?"

He sighs. "Because, Scott, I...he doesn't like me, okay? We're friends. That's it. He's just coming to see me because I've asked him to so many times, like a damn baby, I've practically begged him. That's the only reason."

Scott doesn't believe him. He can see it in his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"No," Stiles admits.

"Don't sell yourself so short, dude. When has Derek ever done anything just because someone asked him to?" When Stiles doesn't answer, Scott continues pointedly. "At the very least, he misses you too. He wouldn't come all this way otherwise. And that's something, isn't it?"

Stiles nods. "Yeah. I guess it is."

"So quit freakin' out, man. Go have fun hanging out with your guy."

Stiles is smiling, until Scott adds "And be safe."

"Scott," he groans. "Please go find Allison and leave me alone."

"You got it, buddy," Scott says with a wink, hopping out of his seat. "Love you!" he calls over his shoulder as he's walking away.

The rest of the day is a blur. When the last bell finally rings, Stiles seriously can't breathe. Before leaving the building, he ducks into a bathroom. He knows Derek's here by now, because Derek's never late. And he feels bad making him wait, but this is all so overwhelming.

He grips the sides of the sink with both hands and looks in the mirror.

"You can do this," he says to himself. "You've handled worse. This is nothing. It's hanging out. You do that all the time. It's like hanging out with Scott. Only you don't want to kiss Scott. Or hold his hand. Or...anyway," he continues, shutting that train down, "you've survived friggin' kanimas and alpha packs and hunters, for God's sake, you can survive this. Man up."

He turns around to see Danny staring at him, puzzled look on his face.

"Not a word," Stiles says, rushing out the door.

The walk down the hallway to the front door seems impossibly long, and it gives Stiles enough time to realize he doesn't know what the hell kind of greeting is appropriate here. How do you say hello to your friend/recently-established-crush that you haven't seen in almost two months? A fist bump? A head nod?

Stiles is almost positive he's going to throw up at this point, but then he steps outside and sees Derek leaning against his car with his arms crossed, waiting for him. And holy hell, he's wearing his lacrosse jersey. He thinks it's some kind of cruel joke at first, but then Derek spots him and his face lights up like Stiles has never seen it light up before, and then all his fears fall away.

He practically charges at Derek, slipping in a "Hi" before he throws his arms around him. And Jesus, it feels like a piece of himself has been put back where it belongs. (When did he get so sappy?)

"I like your shirt," Stiles comments.

Derek smirks. "Yeah, you know. I had to put it into the rotation."

"Shut up," Stiles retorts, but he's grinning. He doesn't think he could wipe the smile off his face if he tried.

They hop in the car and head to Stiles' house, and Stiles scream sings to I Need Your Love on the radio (and tries desperately to ignore the irony of that), looking over at Derek fondly when he notices that he's humming along.

Stiles introduces Derek to his dad, which is significantly less awkward and easier to explain now that he knows about werewolves. His dad still gives them a suspicious look, though, and says "The door stays open when you're in your bedroom," which is thoroughly mortifying.

"Sorry about that," Stiles says once his dad has retreated to his room. He puts a bag of popcorn into the microwave, then looks over at Derek. "It's gotta be kind of weird for you. Being a grown adult and still having to deal with teenagers and their parents."

Derek shakes his head. "I don't mind. It's nice to see, actually. I miss being around family."

Stiles nods, because he gets that. The microwave goes off, and he takes the popcorn out and puts it into a bowl.

"So, where were we? Season five, episode...two, I think? Yeah?" Stiles asks, motioning for Derek to follow him to the living room.

He plops down on the couch and looks up to see Derek deeply contemplating whether he should sit next to Stiles or in the chair across the room. Stiles raises a brow, then stares pointedly at the other end of the couch until Derek sits there.

"Episode two, yeah," Derek says, as if the whole thing had never happened.

Stiles smiles as he scrolls through his DVR to find the right episode. He takes a leap of faith and brings his feet up to rest in Derek's lap. He tenses a little, but doesn't push him away, so Stiles considers it a victory.

They get through three episodes without much talking, aside from Derek's few comments ("Exterminators, they're gonna make meth in peoples' houses, that's genius). But then it's time for Stiles' favorite episode of the entire series, and he can't. He wants to keep his feet propped up on Derek, but he can't sit still anymore. He needs to rant. So he repositions himself so that he's sitting cross-legged on the couch.

"Okay, this is that episode I was telling you about. With the train. And the stealing. And holy crap, I just love it so much. You don't even know. It's--"

"Stiles."

"Right. Sorry," he says, pressing play. He's practically bouncing in his seat.

At the end of every scene, he looks over at Derek to see his reaction. It's taking everything in him to respect his "no talking during TV" rule. He wants to know what Derek thinks, wants to say what he thinks, wants to scream at how freaking amazing this show is.

Somehow, he makes it through. As Vince Gilligan's damn name pops up on the screen, he looks over at Derek for the millionth time, and he's shocked.

"They actually pulled that off," he says, stunned.

"I know."

"But Todd...and the kid..."

"I know."

"This show's going to kill me," Derek says, rubbing a hand over his face.

Stiles laughs. "Believe me, I know."

They watch through the midseries finale ("You had to wait a year after that? How'd you do it?") before Stiles' dad comes out to tell them that it's 3:00 in the god damn morning, why is the TV so loud, get to bed.

"I should probably get going," Derek says, and Stiles doesn't like that.

"Wait, do you...do you even have a place to stay?"

He shrugs. "I'll find something."

"Why don't you just, I mean...you can stay. We have to finish the rest of the season anyway, so you might as well, like, yeah." Jesus. Talk much, Stilinski?

But Derek just asks "Are you sure?" like it was a perfectly normal invitation.

Stiles nods. "Absolutely. The couch pulls out, so you'll have plenty of room. I'll just go to my room."

"No, stay," Derek says, and Stiles must be hallucinating, because there's no way he said that.

He did, though. Derek Hale is on his couch and wearing his jersey and asking him to sleep with him. Er, sleep next to him.

"Uh, yeah. Okay."

Stiles pulls out the rest of the couch and lays down where Derek isn't, getting situated before turning the TV off. And then it's complete darkness, and Stiles is willing his heartbeat to slow down.

"Night," Derek says. It's strange, because he says that to him almost every night over the phone, but it's so different in person somehow.

"Night," Stiles replies, and god, his dad's probably gonna kill him for this, but then Derek hooks his foot around Stiles' ankle, and he can't find it in him to care.

Chapter Text

All that's running through Derek's mind when he wakes up is a string of shouldn't haves.

He shouldn't have stayed, shouldn't have asked Stiles to stay with him, shouldn't have come here in the first place. Shouldn't have let his feelings for Stiles cloud his judgment.

It's just gonna make it hurt that much more when he has to leave again.

He sits up, runs a hand through his hair. Stiles is sitting by his feet, watching some show on his laptop with his headphones in. How I Met Your Mother, Derek thinks.

He nudges Stiles with his foot until he presses pause and pulls a headphone out.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asks him.

Stiles shrugs. "Little bit."

"Does your dad know how much trouble you've been having?"

"Nope. Just you and Scott."

Derek sighs, wishes there was some tangible way he could help. Stiles is always saying that he helps him by keeping him company when he's awake, but to Derek, as long as Stiles can't sleep at night, it's not enough.

"You should tell him. He could, I don't know. Get you help, or something."

Stiles shakes his head. "He has enough to worry about. There's no need to add this to his mile-long shit list."

"He'd put you first. You're his son, Stiles."

"Hey, as long as I have you to use as my personal e-therapist, I'll survive. So unless you're trying to tell me that you quit, I'm good."

"I'm not quitting," Derek says, smiling sadly.

"Good. Now," Stiles says, shutting his laptop and tossing the remote to Derek, "You get the episode ready, I'll get breakfast. PopTarts or cereal?"

"Surprise me."

When Stiles returns, he hands Derek a plate of PopTarts with a bite taken out of one. Derek raises an eyebrow, looking up at him.

Stiles just grins at him. "I didn't know which one I wanted, so I had to try them both," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, carefully navigating to his side of the couch with his bowl of cereal. "Okay, now we're getting into the good stuff. Every episode of this half season is on point. There's never a disappointing moment. It's seriously, like, television porn."

Derek loves how shamelessly in love with TV Stiles is. "I don't doubt it," he says, handing the remote back to Stiles.

"Prepare yourself, Derek Hale," Stiles says seriously before pressing play.

They have three episodes left (and Derek is dying here, because three more just isn't enough), when Stiles says "Man, I'm seriously craving some frozen yogurt. Wanna go?"

No, Derek does not want to go, he wants to lay here and finish this damn show before it kills him, thank you very much. But at this point, Stiles gets what Stiles wants when it comes to Derek.

"Sure."

They take Stiles' car. There's already a CD playing when he turns on the car, and every song on it, Derek notices, is about missing someone who's far away. He decides not to mention it.

Once they get there, Stiles says, "Oh, shit. You probably don't want to go out in public, right? You don't want people to know that you're here?"

And Stiles is right, but at the same time, Derek is imagining the two of them sitting at a table eating yogurt together, so closely resembling a date, and then he doesn't really give a damn if people know he's back.

"No, it's okay. Let's go in."

Derek gets plain tart yogurt and puts lots of fruit on it, while Stiles gets a little bit of each flavor, which, gross. He then proceeds to dump copious amounts of cookie dough and gummy worms and chocolate chips galore, and Derek can't not comment on that.

"You're disgusting," he tells Stiles.

"Gotta take advantage of my fast metabolism while I still got it," he says with a shrug.

Derek shakes his head, but pays for Stiles' yogurt anyway.

"Thanks," Stiles says as they sit down at the nearest table. "You didn't have to do that. Despite Cora and Scott's constant insistence, we're not actually dating."

Derek wants to say Why aren't we?, but he just fakes a laugh. "Scott thinks so too?"

"Ugh, yeah. He won't shut up about it," he says around a mouthful of yogurt. "But hey, look at us. Going out and doing stuff. Being friends. Remember when we hated each other?"

"The simpler times," he says, and Stiles snorts. "I never really hated you, though."

"I hated you out of fear, I think," Stiles says. "I was friggin' terrified of you, dude."

"I think I prefer the friendship to you wishing me dead."

"Hey, karma came back to get me for that. That time we thought you were dead was one of the worst days of my life," Stiles says, and Derek can hear the honesty of it.

"The time Gerard kidnapped you wasn't a great day for me, either," Derek admits.

"We should probably stop almost-dying so often," Stiles says before shoveling more of his disgraceful yogurt into his mouth.

"At least we're usually there to save each other," Derek offers.

"We're like Batman and Robin."

"We're the heroes Beacon Hills deserves, but not the ones it needs right now," Derek says with his best Batman voice, and Stiles cracks up.

Five minutes later, he's still laughing, tears threatening to fall, and Derek can't help but laugh too.

"Oh man, you're..." Stiles trails off, going back into another fit of laughter. "You're awesome," he finally chokes out, breathing heavily. "You deserve all the awards."

Derek takes a bite of his yogurt, silently pleased with himself for putting such a big smile on Stiles' face. "I try."

"You succeed."

They fall into a comfortable silence, taking simultaneous bites and cracking smiles at each other.

"It's weird seeing you smile so much," Stiles comments, sticking his spoon into Derek's yogurt once he runs out of his own.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember inviting you to eat my food," Derek says, but makes no move to stop him. "Should I stop? Smiling?"

"Sharing is caring, Derek," he says, and Derek glares at him. "You definitely shouldn't stop. It's nice."

"You should go back to smiling as much as you did before," Derek says before he can stop himself.

"I'm doing the best I can, dude. Maybe the world just isn't ready for both of us to be happy at the same time."

Derek wants to say that he'd rather Stiles be happy than himself any day, but he keeps it to himself.

He also wants to take Stiles' hand as they walk out of the yogurt shop, but he refrains from that too.

Stiles is lying face down on his living room floor, moaning and groaning like he's in physical pain.

"I can't believe it's over," he says miserably.

"The finale was amazing, though," Derek offers.

"It was better than anything I could have ever imagined," Stiles practically whines, "but now it's over. There will never be a new episode of Breaking Bad."

Derek wants to do the same thing Stiles is doing, if he's being honest. "We can start watching a new show," he tries.

"It's too soon, Derek," Stiles says hopelessly. "Besides," he adds, pulling himself into a sitting position, "it'll never be the same."

"I bet you say that every time you finish a show."

"He does," the sheriff interjects from his spot at the dining room table, and Derek chuckles.

"See? You'll survive," he says, turning back to Stiles.

"Ugh, you two are the worst."

"So you've told me. Alright, I'm heading into the station for awhile," Sheriff Stilinski calls.

Stiles lifts his head up from where it's currently resting in his hands to protest. "It's 5:00 on a Saturday. Is it something bad?"

"Nah. I just need to catch up on some paperwork." Derek can hear the sheriff's lie, but he doesn't say anything.

"Fine. Just leave me here to die," Stiles grumbles dramatically.

"Derek's here," the sheriff says. "Speaking of, I trust you two will behave while I'm gone. I don't need to send Derek home, do I?"

"Dad. Bye."

"Just checking. I'll be home soon."

"Bye, Sheriff Stilinski," Derek says as he's walking out the door.

"It really will be okay," he says to Stiles.

"Ugh. But this is worse. Because not only is one of my favorite shows over, but us finishing it means that you're leaving soon."

Derek sighs. He wishes he didn't have to go back. He wishes he could stay here and sleep on the Stilinskis' couch for the foreseeable future.

Stiles stares at him for a few moments before saying "I just realized. I gave you my number 24 lacrosse jersey for your 24th birthday. That would have been a hell of a lot better of an excuse than that laundry shit I used. I'm surprised you kept it, let alone wore it."

"It smelled like you," Derek says, though he probably shouldn't. (He's getting pretty bad about doing things he shouldn't where Stiles is concerned.)

"Is that a creepy wolf thing?" Stiles asks.

"It's an 'I missed you' thing."

Then Stiles smiles, and it's how he always used to smile, that genuine smile that Derek took advantage of back when he saw it so often, and Derek would give anything to have that smile on Stiles' face 24/7.

"You really shouldn't have come. It's gonna hurt like a bitch when you're gone again," Stiles says.

"Should we talk about that CD you had in your car?" Derek asks.

"Okay, so it already hurts like a bitch," Stiles answers, and Derek aches.

"Look," Stiles continues, "I don't know when the hell I got so dependent on you, and I get that you need to be gone right now. Or, that Cora needs to be gone, and you need to be with her. But damn it, Derek, I miss you. When something happens to me, you're the first person I want to tell. Even before Scott, usually. And while technology has done wonders to give you the ability to communicate with people far away, you not being here really, really sucks for me."

Derek leans back on the couch so he can look at the ceiling instead of at Stiles. "You know I'd stay if I could," he says.

"I know."

"I can stay another night. I feel like the longer I stay, the harder it'll be to leave, but if it's what you want, I can stay."

Stiles sighs. "No, you're right, it'll make it worse. You should go. I just."

Derek stands, though all he wants to do is sink farther into the couch. "We'll still talk every day."

"We better," Stiles says, holding out his arms until Derek takes his hands and pulls him to his feet.

Derek hesitates for a second too long before dropping Stiles' hands.

"I don't think I can do the whole 'standing in the doorway watching you leave' thing, so I'm just gonna go to my room, and when I come back out, you'll be gone. Is that cool?"

"Okay."

"Alright, well. Say hi to Cora for me."

"I will. Tell Isaac I said hi, too, would you?"

"Sure, buddy. I'll see you soon, yeah?" Stiles asks, sounding unsure.

"Yeah," Derek says, though he doesn't know if he's telling the truth.

"Cool. Later, Derek."

"Bye, Stiles," Derek says to his back as he walks toward his room.

It takes everything he has to walk out the front door.

Chapter Text

Stiles doesn't sleep at all the night before.

Granted, he doesn't sleep at all most nights, but it's different. Because he doesn't even bother to try this time. He knows there's no point. He's already seeing images of the worst day of his life playing back in his head; he doesn't need even more vivid ones in his dreams.

Laying in bed, Stiles does the only thing that feels right and texts Derek.

He sighs, because he doesn't feel up to it at all, but he also doesn't feel up to a day of laying around feeling sorry for himself.

With the smallest hint of a smile on his face, Stiles drags himself out of bed, decision made.

His dad's already gone when he goes downstairs, which he expects. He usually doesn't see him the whole day, and while he would really prefer his dad to be around to grieve with him, he knows that it's the hardest thing in the world for him to deal with and/or talk about, so he respects his father's decision to make himself scarce.

Once he gets to school, he's greeted by Scott and Lydia waiting for him. Scott's arms are around him before he even gets the car door shut, and he returns the hug gratefully.

"I miss her too, dude. I really do," Scott says. "I love you, you know."

As soon as Scott moves away, Lydia's there, taking his hands in hers and planting a kiss on his cheek. "I love you too, sweetie. We're all thinking about you today."

"Thanks, guys. You're the best. Love you."

This really is a nice surprise, actually, because prior to this year, Scott never remembered today. Also prior to this year, Scott was pretty much Stiles' only friend, so if he didn't remember, there was no one else. For the first time in what feels like forever, he goes into this day feeling hopeful.

But then he's in Calculus, and he's trying to take his test, but the numbers keep floating all around on the page like he has dyslexia or something. And he's reminded of when his mom used to help him with his math homework, so, so long ago, and his chest tightens.

He looks around the room, but there's no one. No one that cares about him. No one that can get him through this. He needs his dad, he needs Scott, he needs Derek, but none of them are here. Most of all, he needs his mom, but she'll never be here again. And that's too much.

He can't breathe, and he can't be in here anymore. He jumps up at lightning speed and rushes out the door, ignoring his teacher's confused calls.

He high tails it out of the school, and turns to head for his car, but he knows he won't be able to drive. So he goes for the lacrosse field instead, more slowly this time. He sits on the bench he knows so well; he used to live on it when Coach never played him. He'd always wanted to quit the team, but he never did. He couldn't. Because his mom had always wanted him to play. He did it for her. Still does it for her.

He starts sobbing, almost uncontrollably, tugging at his hair as hard as he can. God, he would give anything to have her back. To have her hold him while he cried like this, just like she always used to.

He needs to talk to someone; Scott's in class and his dad's still MIA, but he knows that Derek will be there. He knows it. Right as he pulls out his phone, it vibrates with a text message.

Stiles takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down enough to talk on the phone. He swallows when it vibrates, swiping at it with a shaking finger to answer the call.

"Hey," he says, voice cracking.

"Hey. Are you hanging in there?"

"Not so much," Stiles says admittedly.

"Tell me about her," Derek says, and Stiles is taken aback for a moment. Because usually today (and pretty much every other day, honestly) people tiptoe around the subject of his mother, doing everything they can not to bring it up. But here Derek is, straight up asking about her. No bullshit.

He loves it.

"She was perfect, Derek. She was obsessed with TV, just like me. I remember, she was always watching Law & Order. She told me that number one on her bucket list was to watch every single episode. She never did do that, though." He sniffles, willing away the tears so he can continue. "I used to help her make dinner every night. I was too young to do a whole lot of anything, but I'd sit on the counter and watch her. She always had the radio on, and she'd sing along to every song that came on. I always swore she knew every song in the world. And when one of her favorites played, she'd pull me down from the counter and dance me around the kitchen."

He pauses, because he just needs a second here. Derek understands that, he thinks, because he doesn't say a word.

"She used to pick me up from school every day. And there was this one day, the first day I'd ever gotten bullied, that she could tell something was wrong the minute she saw me. I didn't say anything, but she knew. She was always good like that. So she didn't ask what had happened--she never did that, ever, she always said that if I wanted her to know, I'd tell her--but she took me out for ice cream on the way home, and she hung out with me for the rest of the night. When she was tucking me in for bed, I told her that some of the older boys had called me gay, and I asked her what it meant. She said that sometimes boys like boys, and sometimes girls like girls. And I was like, 'Okay, but they said it like it was a bad thing.' And she smiled and said 'Some people think it is a bad thing. But it isn't, sweetheart, I promise. Not to the people that matter. Mommy and Daddy will always love you, no matter what, alright?' I'm pretty sure they only called me gay because douchebag kids call everyone gay, but she knew, I think. That I was. Way before I did."

He clears his throat before going on.

"The last thing she ever said to me was 'I love you to the moon and back, honey.' And it wasn't luck. She was the kind of person to always remind the people she loved that she loved them. She could be furious with me, or with my dad, but she'd still say 'I love you' before she went to bed that night. She thought that was the most important thing. That her favorite boys never doubted the way she felt about them."

He sighs, signaling that he's done.

"She sounds amazing."

"She is," Stiles says, nodding. "Was," he corrects himself, and just like that, he's crying again.

"Stiles, shh. Talk to me. What can I do?"

"I really wish you were here," he says, and Jesus, it comes out sounding so desperate mixed with the tears.

"If I could get there fast enough, I would be there, I swear," Derek says, and the worried tone in his voice suggests that he isn't lying.

Stiles doesn't reply. He can't. It's getting harder to breathe again.

"Alright, just...just pretend I'm there. I know it sounds stupid, but I'm serious. Pretend I'm sitting next to you, and I'm putting my arms around you. And you're leaning on me. And your head's on my chest. And you can hear my heartbeat. Let it calm you."

So Stiles does. He lays down on the grass, and closes his eyes, and pretends that Derek's there to comfort him. All the while, Derek is whispering things like "I know it hurts" and "I'm here, I'm here" and "I'm so, so sorry" in his ear through the phone. And sure, Derek's been nicer to him lately, but this tenderness is a surprise. It's so unlike him, and it stirs something inside Stiles.

Stiles hears the final bell ring, but it barely registers. He's too focused on breathing. In, out, in, out. But then he hears Scott calling his name and opens his eyes.

"Stiles, I'm so sorry, I heard you when you ran out here...I tried to follow you, but she wouldn't let me out of class. Are you okay?"

He pulls himself into a sitting position. "I'm okay," he says to Scott; then, to Derek, "Hey, Scott's here, so I have to go, alright?"

"Sure. Call me later, let me know you're alright."

"I will. Thank you."

Once he hangs up, he looks up at Scott. "I'm okay," he says again.

"Was that Derek?" Scott asks.

"Yeah."

Scott doesn't push it.

"Want me to drive you home?"

"Yeah."

They don't go home right away. First, they buy flowers and go to the cemetery. They're there for the better part of an hour, telling Claudia about how Scott's a werewolf and how they actually have friends other than each other now and how Stiles Stilinski finally kissed the Lydia Martin and then decided he was over her. ("You were right, Mom. Sometimes boys like boys. His name's Derek," Stiles says, and Scott puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.)

Once they leave, Scott takes Stiles out for ice cream. And instead of going home after dropping Stiles off, he stays with him. Just like his mom always used to when he had a bad day. He really, truly, and honestly cannot even fathom what he did to deserve having Scott McCall for a best friend.

They're sitting on the couch in their pajamas, Stiles scrolling through Tumblr and Scott working on economics homework, when he calls Derek.

"Are you feeling better?" Derek asks by way of greeting.

"I am, yeah. Scott took care of me."

Scott nudges him in the side with his foot by way of acknowledgement.

"Tell him thank you for me. You really scared me, you know."

"Yeah, it always freaks people out. You know, last time I had a panic attack, Lydia kissed me to make it stop."

Derek chuckles. "I'll keep that in mind for next time. Try to get some sleep, okay? You'll feel better tomorrow."

"'Kay. Thanks for being there for me today, Derek. Seriously."

"I'll always be here for you."

Stiles tries desperately to ignore the butterflies that gives him. "Night."

"Goodnight."

"Derek says thanks for being with me today," Stiles says once he puts the phone down.

"Why aren't you two dating again?" Scott asks, and Stiles is prepared to tell him to shut up, but then he looks up at Scott and realizes that he's not joking.

"He's too far away. It wouldn't work."

"It sounds to me like you two are really good at making far away work, actually," Scott points out.

Stiles shrugs. "Maybe some day," he says, and that's the end of the conversation.

With Derek's sweet words on a loop in his head and Scott's comforting presence next to him, he sleeps almost completely through the night with only good dreams about his mother.

Chapter Text

Derek wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing, which has been happening a lot recently, actually. He could ignore it and fall back asleep easily if he wanted to, and he would, if it were anyone but Stiles. But, well, it is Stiles. And he can never turn down an opportunity to talk to him.

"Hey. What time s'it?" Derek asks, voice still thick with sleep.

"5:30 ish. Sorry. Did I wake you?"

He smiles. "Yeah, but it's okay. I don't mind. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just, you know. Weekend boredom. It's pretty common for people with no lives."

"I've had my share of weekends like that."

Stiles snorts. "By choice, I'm sure. Not the same."

"Don't act like you're some poor victim with no friends," Derek retorts. "Where's Scott?"

"With Allison and Isaac, probably. Did you know about the three of them, by the way? Like, good for them, I'm happy for them and all, but Jesus, I thought Scott was annoying when it was just Allison. You should see him now."

Derek raises an eyebrow. "They're...?"

"Mhm. It's kind of stupidly adorable, honestly. No one at school knows, because they're all judgmental assholes, so it's kind of a secret. But the three of them all sit next to each other in chemistry, and they'll always hold hands under the table. They haven't even done any sex stuff yet, because they want to wait until it's right and all that lovey dovey crap. It really doesn't make any sense to me, because Allison and Scott have already banged a million times, but hey. It's sweet."

He has no idea when he started caring about all their personal lives, but he finds himself grinning. "That's good."

Stiles hums in agreement. "Yeah. So, anyway, the three of them are always together now, and Lydia's visiting Jackson for the weekend. She invited me to come with her, and I almost did, because I've always wanted to see London, but then I realized I'd rather gouge my eyes out than see Jackson, so I passed. And then there's you, who's still gone for the foreseeable future. How long can you stay in Washington without wanting to kill yourself, anyway?"

"Cora likes the rain."

"I like the rain too, but I feel like there's just entirely too much of it there. It's not natural. How is Cora, by the way? I haven't talked to her in awhile. Did you guys do anything for Halloween?"

"She's not doing so well, actually. That's probably why she hasn't texted you lately."

"What's wrong?" Stiles asks.

Derek lowers his voice, even though Cora's still asleep. She'd probably kill him if she knew he was telling anyone about this.

"She's not handling the near-death experience well. It seems like a post-traumatic stress thing. She has bad dreams. Cries a lot. It's not good."

Stiles sighs. "Man. That sucks. I'm guessing you guys didn't dress up or anything, then?"

"No. I did wolf out in public a couple times just for the fun of it, though," Derek admits.

"That's awesome," Stiles says with a chuckle. "I was Roy from Arrow. You probably don't know who that is, but dude, he looks a lot like Jackson. It's kind of creepy."

"You willingly dressed up as someone who reminds you of Jackson?"

"Shut up. I was lazy, and I already had a red hoodie, and that's pretty much all there is to being him, so. I hope you know, if you were here, we would have been Walt and Jesse. And it would have been awesome."

Derek can totally picture that, actually. "With the hazmat suits and everything?"

"Duh. Oh, speaking of. I've been thinking."

"And?"

"I think it's time. For a new show."

Derek gasps dramatically, then laughs at himself.

"I know you can't see it, but I'm flipping you off right now," Stiles says.

"I don't doubt it. Anyway, what show were you thinking?"

"I dunno. I've heard good things about Dexter. And Hannibal. I don't know if I'm in the mood to start watching a dark show, though, you know?"

Derek nods. "Let's do something funny. We could use some funny in our lives."

"Alright, if you're thinking comedy, I'd say the best options are Parks & Rec, Community, or How I Met Your Mother."

"Don't you already watch all of those?" Derek asks.

"Not Community."

"Let's do that one, then," he says. "So it's new to both of us."

"Sounds good to me. It's not on Netflix, though, so you'll have to torrent it. And I don't suppose you know how to do that."

"You'd be correct."

Stiles groans. "I deserve an award for putting up with you, you know."

"I could say the same thing about you," Derek says, but it's a lie. Putting up with Stiles is the reward.

It takes about an hour of clicking and installing and downloading (and Derek honestly doesn't even really know what he did) before he's successfully downloading season one.

"Okay, so, couple disclaimers about this show. First of all, it supposedly takes awhile to really get into it. Like five to ten episodes, depending on how easily you get attached and whatnot. And two, you either or love it or hate it. There's no inbetween. That's just what I've heard on the internet, anyway. So."

"You'll probably love it, Mr. TV Addict," Derek comments.

"It's not me I'm worried about, it's you. Your ass better like it. Got it?"

He chuckles. "I'll do my best."

"Do better than your best. Alright, the first episode should be done by now, at least. Ready?"

"Ready," Derek says, and they both press play.

"I actually really like it already," he says once they finish the pilot.

"Me too. I even have a favorite already. It's-"

"Annie," they both say at the same time.

"You're my TV soulmate, Derek Hale," Stiles says fondly, and Derek can tell he's smiling.

He smiles, too. "A dream come true," he teases.

"You better believe it. So, what do you say? Wanna binge watch all day?"

"Sounds perfect."

He invites Cora to watch with them once she wakes up, and he can tell her heart's not completely in it, but she smiles more often than she has in weeks, and it's nice to see. He loves Stiles' ability to make everyone happy, even without being there.

The three of them stay in bed all day, watching and talking (though never at the same time, they had to teach Cora), and Derek can't help but think about how nice this is. How easy it is. And how he wouldn't mind doing it all day, every day, all the time.

"I miss you," he tells Stiles when Cora goes to take a shower.

It's quiet for a moment longer than Derek is comfortable with, and then Stiles says "You could come get me. Take me out there with you. It could be just the three of us."

He sounds so hopeful that Derek shivers at it, and God, it's tempting. He has to be the adult here, though, and he hates it.

"Stiles, I can't."

"Why not?" The hope in his voice is replaced with hurt, and Derek aches.

"You have school."

Stiles laughs harshly. "I haven't given a damn about school since--"

"It's important," Derek argues.

"But--"

He cuts him off before he even starts, because he only has so much willpower. He can only say no so many times.

"Damn it, Stiles, I said--"

"Alright, okay," Stiles interrupts, and Derek just knows he's putting his hands up defensively. "Let's not fight, okay? Please? Not while you're gone. It was fun arguing when I knew I'd see you again the next day, but when you're gone, I just, I can't."

Derek nods. "Okay."

It's quiet for a minute or so, and then Stiles laughs.

"What?"

"We sound like an old married couple. 'Don't go to bed angry,' or something like that. Jesus."

Images immediately fill his mind, of being old and married to Stiles, but he pushes them away. That's a problem for another day.

"I don't want to go to bed angry with you," he says instead.

He can hear Stiles grin around the words "Yeah. Me either."

They fall asleep on the phone together, just like they did on that first night, the night that started all this, and Derek can't help but think about how far they've come.

Chapter Text

When it finally happens, it's a complete accident.

His phone rings while he's getting ready for school, and he picks it up without so much as glancing at it. He knows who it is; there's only one person that calls him.

"Hey, Derek. What's up?"

"Morning. I was just calling to let you know I won't be by my phone much today. I'm taking Cora out. Gonna try to cheer her up a bit."

Stiles swears, his whole heart smiles, because Derek's becoming such a good big brother. (Or, rebecoming, he should say, because there's not a doubt in his mind that Derek was a good brother back before everything went to hell.)

"Oh, cool. That's nice of you," he says, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder while he flails around in an attempt to shrug his hoodie on.

"Yeah. I know she's been wanting to go see the mountains and stuff, so we're gonna do that, I think. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Alright, have fun. Love you."

He hangs up, and it takes him all of about fifteen seconds to realize what he just said.

Shit. Shit.

He's in the middle of typing a text to Derek (Jesus, I'm so sorry, dude) when his phone rings. He almost declines it, too afraid of what Derek might say. He picks up on the last ring.

"I love you, too," Derek says, then hangs up.

Stiles spends the rest of the morning smiling like an idiot.

Scott notices.

"What's got you all grinny?" he asks him as he's paying for his lunch.

"It's just a beautiful day, Scotty boy."

"Right," Scott says, rolling his eyes. "It's because of Derek, isn't it?"

Stiles shrugs. "It could be."

"Come on, I'm your best friend. You have to tell me. It's a rule."

"Oh, is it?" Stiles asks with a laugh.

Scott just stares.

"Alright, fine. I, uh...I may have told him I loved him."

His stare goes from annoyed to shocked almost instantaneously.

"You said the words 'I love you.'"

Stiles nods. "Yep."

"And he said it back?"

"Would I be smiling like this if he didn't?"

"You two do realize that you're not even going out, right?" Scott asks, then pats Stiles on the back. "Congratulations, though, buddy. I'm happy for you."

Later that afternoon, Derek sends him a picture of the mountains he and Cora had been exploring all day. They're beautiful, but what really gets him is the caption.

Stiles texts him later that evening, when he's sure he's back "home," safe and sound at some shady motel.

Stiles takes a deep breath, gives himself a mental pep talk. He knows neither of them excel at serious conversations, but this is a thing that needs to happen.

Stiles sighs, because that's so Derek.

He almost leaves it at that, but he goes for honesty. That's important in a...whatever this is, right?

Stiles doesn't know what he's missing here, because Derek's hot, and people like hot people. It's a fact. He's pretty sure he's right here.

And that's...oh. That's kind of a lot, actually. A good a lot, but still a lot. He doesn't know if he can handle a secret, but he can't himself.

That's not a thing he can respond to via text message. He just can't.

He dials Derek's number.

"Did you mean that?" he asks, before Derek even gets a chance to open his mouth.

"I swear," Derek says, and Stiles feels a little dizzy.

"You're not wrong, you know. About me not hurting you. I'd never."

"I know."

Derek doesn't have to tell him what a big deal that is, because Stiles knows. He really does.

"Sometimes I just want to punch everyone that's ever hurt you in the face, you know? I'm serious, I would bring Kate Argent back from the dead just to bitch slap her and say 'Screw you for taking advantage of Derek Hale. For making him so scared to trust, so scared to love.' I mean it. You're the last person that deserves to feel so shitty all the time. Kate, Jennifer, they're nothing compared to you. You're so perfect, Derek, god, you don't even know, and I just want you to be happy, I--"

"Stiles."

He pauses mid-rant (which is probably a good thing, considering how sappy it was getting). "Yeah?"

"When you're around, I am happy."

Stiles grins, and then they watch a couple episodes of Community before he has to start his homework.

They never really discuss their relationship again after that. They don't have to. They know what they are to each other.

Chapter Text

Once they make their relationship official, Derek starts to miss Stiles a million times more than he already had.

It's not that anything's changed, really, but it's the knowledge that if he was back home, things would change substantially. He could kiss Stiles now. Fall asleep with Stiles pressed against him. Wake up to Stiles smiling warmly at him. Lay Stiles out underneath him and worship every inch of him.

But, of course, he can't do any of that, because he's 1,000 miles away, and it's killing him.

He's pretty sure if he told Cora that it wasn't just a game with Stiles anymore, that this is real, she'd give in and let them go back to Beacon Hills. But Derek doesn't have the heart to even bring it up, because she hardly ever stops crying these days.

They've been going out more often lately, because Derek thought it would help to get her out of the dreary motel room, but it seems to be making it worse. A few days ago, they went out for pizza, and the second they got back, Cora locked herself in the bathroom and cried for an hour. Derek's trying not to push it, to just let her cope, but he's starting to get worried.

It's late, and they're both in the room; Derek's reading, and Cora's lying flat on her bed, listening to music in her headphones, staring at the ceiling. One second, everything's fine, and the next, Cora breaks down. This is the first time it's happened in front of him, so Derek's kind of panicking here.

He's up immediately, instinctively, and he crosses the room in record time, but hesitates before sitting next to her on the bed. She mutters a "Don't touch me" as Derek lifts his hand but he doesn't listen, just puts his arm around her and then she buries her face in his shirt and sobs. Derek doesn't know what to do, just rubs her arm comfortingly and says the things he said to Stiles during his panic attack. I know it hurts, I'm here, I'm sorry.

After her crying has been reduced to sniffling, Derek decides it's time to push it.

"Alright, talk to me. What's been going on with you?"

Cora just stares at the wall.

"Cora."

"Nothing," she says, and it's harsh.

"Please let me help you."

"I just..." She pauses, sighs. "I feel like I'll never feel normal again. And I appreciate you trying to help me, taking me to do things, but it kind of makes it hurt more. Because it's like, I'm trying to be normal and it just feels fake. You know what I mean?"

Derek nods.

"I'm sorry," he says, because what else is there to say?

"I know you miss home, and you want to go back," she says, waving off his apology, "but I just...I don't think I can. Maybe not ever, but definitely not yet. Is that okay?"

And no, it's really the farthest thing from okay, because not going back to Beacon Hills means not going back to Stiles, and that's just an unacceptable idea. But despite everything, family comes first.

So he means to tell her that of course it's okay, but what comes out instead is "Stiles and I are dating."

"I...you are?"

When he nods, she smiles.

"For how long?" she asks.

"Couple days."

He really, really didn't mean to bring this up, so now he's trying to backtrack and make it seem like less of the big deal that it is, because he honestly had zero intention of guilting her into letting them go home when they started this conversation.

But then she asks him "Does he make you happy?", and he can't downplay that.

"More than anything," he answers.

She's quiet for a minute or two, looking deep in thought.

"We can go back if you want," she says finally, and Derek feels like the biggest asshole in the world.

He texts Stiles about it, and then immediately wishes he hadn't.

He reads it in Stiles' voice and his heart flutters. (He'd never admit it to anyone, but he loves pet names.)

He takes a minute to compose his manly status, then calls Stiles.

"Hey, you."

Derek can't help but grin. "Hey. How are you?"

"Better, now that you're here. What'd you wanna talk about?"

He hesitates. "It's, uh...kind of important, actually."

"Derek Hale, if you're breaking up with me because you think I'm too young for you or too good for you or too anything else for you, I absolutely will not stand for it."

Derek's eyes widen. "God, no, it's not that. Never that."

He winces. Never's a strong word. Stiles doesn't seem to notice, though.

"Good. So what is it, then?"

"I told Cora about us, and she said we can come back home if I want."

Before he can go on, Stiles interjects.

"Why do you sound so disappointed, then? That's great news."

"It is, except for the fact that hardly five minutes before she said that, she had a breakdown and said she wasn't ready to come home yet."

"Oh. Shit."

"Yeah. I figured I'd let you decide what I do."

When Stiles doesn't say anything, Derek continues.

"I know that's a lot of pressure, but I can't do it. I just can't."

Stiles still says nothing.

"Stiles."

"Shhh."

Derek raises a brow in confusion. "What do you--"

"Shut up, Derek, I'm trying to channel the best version of myself."

He's pretty sure that doesn't even make sense, but Derek still understands. He waits.

"Stay with Cora," Stiles says, after a good five minutes of silence.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't ask me that. I'll change my mind."

Derek sighs. "I shouldn't have told you."

"Honesty's important in a relationship, honey, come on."

"Of course, dearest," Derek plays along, voice sickeningly sweet.

"Seriously, though. It's okay. I mean, it's not okay, at all, actually, I miss you more than anything, but. You gotta do what you gotta do, right?"

"I miss you, too," Derek says in lieu of acknowledging his question.

Stiles chuckles. "We've gotta stop being those people that sit around saying 'I miss you' every other minute. It's kind of pathetic."

"It is a little pathetic, isn't it?" Derek says with a laugh.

"Little bit. We should totally just have phone sex instead," Stiles offers, and he says it so bluntly, so casually, that Derek chokes on his spit.

"We're not doing that until we have actual sex, and we're not having sex until you're 18. "

"I won't be 18 for eight months."

Derek rolls his eyes. "It won't kill you to wait that long, Stiles, I promise."

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean...you think we'll still be together in eight months."

"I was planning on it, yeah."

"How long are you planning on us, then?" Stiles asks, and Derek can tell he's smiling.

"As long as you'll have me," Derek says, and he means it.

"I'm in it for the long haul, dude."

Now it's Derek that's smiling. "Good."

They slip into a comfortable silence, and before long Derek can hear Stiles typing away on his laptop.

"What are you doing?" he asks, putting Stiles on speakerphone.

"Research paper. S'gonna kill me."

"Do you want me to go?"

"Why on earth would I want that? That would make my dying process about a hundred times faster."

Derek laughs. "Okay. What are you gonna do this weekend?"

"I'm helping Scott out at the clinic, actually."

"That sounds fun."

"Definitely. I'll be sure to send you pictures of me cuddling with the puppies. Scott says I look adorable with dogs."

Derek really hopes those pictures aren't just a joke. "I don't doubt that," he says.

Cora walks through the door then, back from her walk. She looks like she's been crying (again). He doesn't mention it.

"Hey," he greets her.

"Hey. Is that the new boyfriend on the phone?"

"The one and only. Hey, Cora."

"Hey, Stiles. How are you?"

"I'm good. I'm really good. That's mostly thanks to your brother." (Derek refuses to admit that he blushes, but he does.) "I hear you're not doing so great, though."

"Yeah, I've been better."

"Well, listen, you know I'm here for you, right? I have my shitfaced depressed days, too, the Nematon made sure of that. I usually go to Derek with it, but I can hit you up and we can be screwed up freaks together."

"You better still come to me with it too," Derek says threateningly.

"Don't worry, Sourwolf, you're still my person."

"Is that a TV reference?"

"Very good! It is, in fact. Grey's Anatomy, for the record. You know me well, sugarplum."

"Ugh, you two are cute," Cora says, like it's the most disgusting thing in the world.

"I've always wanted to be part of one of those couples that make other people depressed because of how cute they are."

"You're on your way," Cora promises.

"Score."

Cora shakes her head fondly, then asks Derek if she can talk to Stiles alone for a minute.

He complies, gets up and leaves the motel room, but he can still hear them from down the hall. He doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but he can't turn his werewolf senses on and off, so...

"I know you're the one that convinced Derek to stay in Washington with me. I just wanted to say thank you. It couldn't have been easy," she says.

"It wasn't the easiest thing I've ever done, no, but hey. He was your guy before he was mine. You come first."

Derek doesn't think he could be more in love if he tried.

"I'm really glad he found you," Cora tells him.

"I'm glad I did too," Stiles says. "I'd be a wreck without him."

"Kind of like me," Cora says, and Derek feels his heart break.

"Hey," Stiles says, and god, his voice is so gentle. "You're not a wreck. You've been through a hell of a lot lately, and it's understandable to feel the way you do. Let Derek help you, though, okay? I swear, he's actually pretty good at it. I'd kill to be able to have him hold me through one of my breakdowns, so take advantage of having him, alright? Please?"

"I will."

"Good deal. Hey, I gotta go, my dad and I are hanging out tonight, but seriously, if you ever need me, day or night, I'm around. Tell Derek I said bye, and that he's the apple of my eye, would you?"

Derek hears Cora snort. "Sure, Stiles. I'll talk to you later. Bye."

When she comes into the hallway, she wraps her arms around him and holds him tight.

"That's from Stiles. And me, too. You're a good brother, you know. And a good boyfriend," she tells him, and honestly, those are the only two things he wants to be.

Chapter Text

Stiles doesn't understand why he can't figure how to just fucking say it.

All day long, he's said it.

He told Scott that he's his best friend, his brother, forever.

He told Lydia that he's glad he finally found a healthy, reciprocated way to love her.

He told Isaac how glad he is to see him doing so much better after everything that's happened.

He told Allison that he appreciates how happy she makes his friends, and himself.

He told his father that he couldn't have asked for a better dad, a better friend, a better hero.

He went to his mom's grave and told her that he misses her, that he's forever thankful he was blessed enough to have her in his life, and Jesus, you would think that'd be the hardest one to say, but no.

All day long, he's told everyone he loves them, that he's thankful for them, no problem, but yet, he can't find the words to say it to Derek. Nothing seems good enough.

He's had a blank text to him open on his phone all day long, but he's been putting it off.

Now it's 3:00 in the morning and there's nothing to distract him, and he's laying in bed, staring at his phone.

He can't do this, he thinks to himself, and he finally gives up, taps out, surrenders.

Stiles smiles, feels like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders.

He doesn't know that that's true, necessarily, but it would make the insomnia a hell of a lot more bearable.

He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't soar at Derek calling him adorable.

Stiles frowns, because he knows Derek's into Thanksgiving, has been since he was a kid. He thinks that maybe he's been giving up a little too much for Cora lately, but he knows it's not in his place to say anything. Still, it worries him.

He gets up and changes into his pajamas, then dials Derek's number as he's grabbing his laptop and getting himself resituated in bed.

"Hello?"

"And how is the light of my life?"

"M'tired."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather go to bed, then?"

"Nah. Can't sleep," Derek says, and Stiles raises a brow.

"Aren't I usually the one with that problem? Is everything okay?"

"Sometimes people can't sleep, Stiles. It's normal."

"For most people, sure. But I know you, and the only time you can't sleep is when something's bothering you. So tell me what it is, you ass."

He hears Derek sigh. "There was a time when it was only me that could tell when you were lying, not the other way around."

Stiles smirks. "That's what happens when you let someone get close to you, stud muffin. Now, are you gonna tell me what's up?"

"I have a feeling you already know."

Challenge accepted.

"Hm. Well, Thanksgiving's always been one of your favorite holidays, second only to Christmas, and you like big get-togethers, though you'd never admit it to anyone but yourself, and this is just speculation, but I'm guessing this year you'd been hoping to have the whole pack together - Erica, Boyd, and Jackson included - and that we'd all go around the table and say what we're thankful for and eat inhuman amounts of food and watch all the Thanksgiving episodes of Friends huddled together in the living room of the loft, and that it'd be the best Thanksgiving you'd had since before the fire. But instead, what you got was pizza in a motel room. And that fucking sucks."

It's silent for a moment or two, and then Derek says "How the hell do you do that?"

"I know you well, pumpkin." He pauses. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. I'd rather not talk about it, though, if that's okay."

Stiles nods. "Your wish is my command. Now, where were we in Community?"

"Season finale," Derek says. "You made us stop there to build up the suspense." Stiles can tell he's rolling his eyes.

He grins. "Of course. How could I forget?"

"You know, I don't get the Jeff and Britta hype. I think he and Annie would be so much better together," Derek comments once they finish the episode.

Stiles swoons.

"You understand all my TV feelings, baby," he says fondly.

"I try. Now, do you want to watch more, or are you ready to sleep?"

"Believe me, I'd much rather stay up with you all night, but I should probably at least try to get some rest. I told Lydia I'd go Black Friday shopping with her tomorrow."

Derek laughs. "Tell her she better make sure my man comes home in one piece."

Stiles snorts. "Your man can take care of himself, thank you."

"I know you can. People can be crazy, though."

"I promise, I'll be careful. Talk to you soon, okay?"

"Alright. Oh, and Stiles?"

"Yes, angelface?"

"I'm ridiculously thankful for you and your stupid pet names."

He beams.

"I'm glad someone is. Back at you, sourwolf."

The next day, he tells everyone something different.

He skips over Scott, because he already knows, but he tells everyone else. Lydia, Isaac, Allison, Dad, Mom.

"Derek and I are dating," he tells them.

Everyone is excited and accepting (not that he expected any less), and he adds that to his list of things he's thankful for.

Chapter Text

Derek thinks he might actually be going insane. He's considering checking himself into a facility. He can't do this anymore.

He hasn't left the motel room in almost a week. Every time he tries to, even if he has a valid reason (like food), Cora practically begs him not to leave her alone. So they stay there. All day. Every day. Derek doesn't know what the hell they're gonna do when they run out of stuff, but at this point, he wouldn't put it past Cora to become one of those people that order everything online, food included, and Jesus Christ, this is his life now. He's never going to see the outside of this room again, oh god.

He's still worried about her, sure (he wouldn't be putting up with this bullshit otherwise), but he's also getting pretty irritable. He can't get angry at Cora, though, of course, because that would just upset her even more, and that's not what he wants. Seeing as she's the only person around, Derek has been pretty good about keeping his anger to himself. There may be some claw marks on the dining room table, but all in all, he considers it a win.

When Stiles comes around, though, it becomes a bit of a problem. Because then there's someone to take it out on.

He really doesn't mean to be a complete ass, but he can't hold it in anymore. He's so far from in the mood for small talk about Scott's texting habits.

Derek can't quite suppress an eye roll.

And normally, that would make Derek feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but he couldn't do warm and fuzzy right now if he tried. He thinks he can literally feel his blood pressure rising.

He doesn't even know what's going on anymore, can't even remember how this escalated this far. All he knows is that he's pissed.

He doesn't get a reply. Instead, his phone rings.

He answers the call, but says nothing.

"You're a jackass," Stiles says, but his voice is calm.

"Yeah, well," Derek grumbles.

"Are you ready to talk, or are you really gonna shut me out?"

Derek stays silent.

"It's Cora, right?"

God, he's going to scream.

He screams.

"Yes. Okay? Yes! Do you feel better now, now that you know what's wrong with poor, broken Derek?"

"Just tell me what's going on." He's trying to keep his voice even, but Derek can hear the hurt.

He's starting to feel bad, but by now he's too far gone to stop.

"What's going on? I haven't been outside in days. I've been stuck in this fucking room, wasting my damn life away, but I can't complain, because that would be selfish! Because Cora needs this! Cora's not ready! Cora, Cora, Cora! All day long, my only job is to take care of Cora, hold her while she cries, make sure she eats so she doesn't fucking starve to death. And that's bad enough, but then you have to go and ask me about it. The one thing I don't want to talk about, and you bring it up every two fucking seconds. Jesus, it's common sense, not to--"

"Okay, hey, no need to take shots at me."

"Quit suffocating me and I wouldn't have to."

"You don't get to punish me for giving a shit about you, you absolute ass. I get that the feeling might be foreign to you, but I care, okay?"

"Because I've never heard that lie before."

"Tell me you're not going there. Fuck, Derek, I'm not Kate!"

Derek knows that. He does. He just...

"God, this is unbelievable. What the hell are we even doing, then? Was that shit you said about trusting me just a bunch of lies?"

He deflates immediately at that. Because this isn't what they're supposed to be fighting about. They shouldn't be fighting at all, but definitely not about their relationship. That is so far from the problem.

Before he can say anything, he hears Stiles take a deep breath.

"Okay, look, I'm trying to be here for you, because you're always there for me, but you're making it really fucking hard."

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, because, okay, he gets that he's the one that started this mostly unnecessary fight, yet still, Stiles doesn't get it.

"I don't need you to be there for me. I need..." He pauses to keep himself from yelling. "I need you to just leave me alone sometimes."

"And what about what I need? I can't just not worry about people, Derek. I can't get rid of my obsessive need to know everyone I care about is okay, all the time. There's not a switch I can turn on and off. I worry all the time. I need to be there for you."

"No offense, Stiles, but I'm sick and tired of taking care of everyone else's needs and ignoring mine."

"Well, I'm sick and tired of you shutting me out like I'm not important. I'm sick and tired of putting up with your trust issues when you've told me time and again that you trust me. I'm sick and tired of bending over backwards to convince you that you're right to trust me and you throwing it back in my face. I'm sick and tired of you acting like you're not ready for a commitment after you already committed. I'm sick and tired, too, Derek."

Derek...well, he doesn't know what to say to that.

"I'm sorry," Stiles says, as if he has anything to apologize for, as if he spoke anything but the truth.

"I can't talk about this anymore," Derek says, because he's never been able to apologize right after an argument. He needs time. (He's a coward.)

"Right. Okay. I'll let you go, then."

"Okay," he says. He can't get anything else out.

"I love you," Stiles says.

"Yeah. You too."

"Derek, please."

He can tell Stiles is on the verge of tears, and he gets that this is an important thing to him. Never go to bed angry, though they joked about it once...it's not a joke to Stiles. His mom had taught him that. This is more than important. This is everything.

"I love you, Stiles," he says, and it's the first thing he's said all night that feels right.

He hears him breathe a sigh of relief. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Night."

Cora's crying when he hangs up the phone, and he guesses that started somewhere around his 'taking care of my sister is the worst job in the world' rant. He feels terrible about it, but he can't bring himself to say anything to her. He's so tired.

He turns off the light and buries himself under the covers, thinking about how false Cora's statement about him being a good brother and boyfriend was until he falls asleep.

He apologizes immediately the next morning. To both of them.

"Taking care of you isn't what was bothering me," he tells Cora. "It's just the being locked in here like a prison part I could do without."

"That's fair," she says.

"How about I still stay home with you, but I get at least an hour a day to go out and keep myself from losing it?"

"Deal."

"Okay, then," he says, pulling her into a hug. "Love you."

"Love you, too, loser," she says with a smile.

It doesn't hit him that he's calling Stiles during school hours until he hits dial, so he figures he won't answer, which is probably for the best. He prepares himself to leave a voicemail, but instead, he gets the real thing.

"Hey."

"Hey," he says, trying to remember what he had been planning to say without panicking. "Didn't think you'd answer."

"I figured it was probably a call I wanted to take."

"I'm sorry," he says, and then all the words start falling out. "You're right, I'm an ass, and I have monumental trust issues, but I wasn't lying about trusting you, I swear. I know you're not Kate, you would never, and I'm sorry for taking my shit out on you. They were my problems, and they should have stayed my problems, I shouldn't have turned it into a fight with you, because I don't want to fight with you. I hate fighting with you."

Stiles chuckles. "All is forgiven, cupcake."

Derek's never been so happy to hear one of those ridiculous pet names. (And he's always happy to hear them.)

"I love you," he says, because he can never say it enough.

"I know you do, dumbass," Stiles jokes through a grin. "I love you, too."

Chapter Text

Derek's been saying 'I love you' a lot more often since the fight, and while Stiles can't say he doesn't enjoy that, he knows it means that Derek still feels guilty about fighting with him in the first place.

"Are you busy?" Stiles asks him when they're on the phone one Friday night.

"I'm talking to you, but otherwise, no. Why?"

"Everything's been weird since the fight. I mean, not excessively - most passersby wouldn't notice, I mean, it's not like we're ignoring each other at the dinner table or yelling at each other in the supermarket - but a subtle kind of weird, you know?"

"The point, Stiles?"

Right. All that rambling and he didn't even get to the point. What else is new?

"The point, doodlebug, is that we need to go on a date. Take the pressure off, have fun. You know."

"Like an e-date?"

"Exactly. We can both go to a really nice restaurant and, like, FaceTime, or something."

"I thought we couldn't FaceTime without WiFi," Derek says, and Stiles raises a brow.

That's right. Damn you, iPhone 4.

"Look at my baby, being all technologically savvy," Stiles says with a grin, and he literally feels like a proud poppa right about now. "You're right. We'll just have to do it over the phone, then. Go get dressed, okay? Call me when you're ready."

"Alright, be back in a few. Love you."

"Love you too, gumdrop," he says, and he may sigh in contentment a little bit once he hangs the phone up.

He goes to his room, and as he's digging around for something to wear, he finds one of Derek's famous leather jackets in the back of his closet, and he'd forgotten he even had that. (It was the night of the pool/kanima catastrophe, and Stiles had been shivering so hard it was actually kind of scary, and Derek had noticed when no one else had, shrugged his jacket off of himself and chucked it at Stiles.) God, if he'd known he still had this, he would have been wearing it ever since Derek left.

Since he hasn't, though, it still smells like Derek, and for the love of all that is holy, this is perfect. He shrugs it on, snaps a picture of himself, and sends it to Derek.

While he waits for him to call back, he puts on some cologne, and yes, he realizes that it's kind of unnecessary, but this is technically their first date, and fuck if he's not nervous. He's gotta cover all his bases.

"S'that my jacket?" Derek asks when he calls back.

"Yeah, I actually completely forgot it was in my closet. I still had it from the--"

"The night at the pool," he says. "I remember. It looks good on you."

"Aw, thanks, sweetums. It still smells like you. It's fucking awesome. I wanna see your pretty face, though. Send me a picture."

"Okay, hang on a sec."

Moments later, his phone pings, and he swears his heart stops for a second once he opens the message.

"Jesus Christ, Derek, how the holy hell are you so freaking hot? You are just, like, god. I don't know. Out of my league a million times over. How am I even with you? How are you not with, like, a supermodel, or a celebrity, or--"

"Let's shut that train down before it picks up too much speed. You're better than any supermodel or celebrity, Stiles. There's no one I want to 'be with' but you."

Stiles beams and instantly feels his insecurity starting to fall away. Because, no, they've never been on a date before, but they talk on the phone every day. And that's all this is. And he knows, that with Derek, it'll be okay.

"You're such a sap," he says, feigning nonchalance.

"I learned it from you," Derek says, and, okay, fair enough.

"I'm going out with Stiles," he hears Derek tell Cora, and he snorts, because it makes Derek sound kind of crazy.

Stiles heads out of the house, locks the front door behind him, because he doesn't know when his dad'll be home.

"Just so you know, if we were actually together right now, I would totally hold the door open for you," Stiles comments as he's getting into the Jeep.

Derek chuckles. "How sweet of you."

Derek makes them hang up while they're driving, ever a stickler for safety (as if speakerphone doesn't exist, Stiles thinks, but he thinks the sentiment is sweet, so he doesn't argue).

Stiles goes to the fanciest place he knows in town, and he's never been there before, because he'd never had a reason to. As soon as he walks in, he feels more out of place than he did at school freshman year. It's like everyone's looking down on him, judging him, and when the hostess asks him how many and he says "just one," it gets a million times worse.

"Hey, Derek?" Stiles asks, ready to throw in the towel and just go home.

And he doesn't know if a similar thing is happening to Derek, or if he could just read it in his voice, but because Derek always knows the right thing to say, he asks, "Wanna go get curly fries and shakes instead?"

"God, I love you, yes."

Twenty minutes later, Stiles is at his favorite diner, burger, curly fries, and strawberry milkshake in front of him.

"This is so much better," he says around a mouthful of a combination of the three.

"Yeah, fancy restaurants with seven different forks at each place setting isn't really our scene."

"Far from. Let's never do that again, yeah?"

"Respectfully, dear, it was your idea."

"God, I love when you use pet names," Stiles says, and he meant to only think that, but screw it.

"I know you do," Derek says, and the fucker sounds so smug.

"Hey, keep being a little shit and no Christmas present for you."

"Sorry, babe," he teases. Stiles could kill him, if he wasn't so damn fond of him.

"Speaking of Christmas, are you and your dad doing anything special this year?"

Stiles shakes his head. "Nah. I'll be spending most of my time off from school working on college applications. Ugh."

And, shit. Why did he even bring that up? That could be such a dangerous topic.

Derek doesn't seem to mind, though.

"Ah. Where are you planning to apply?"

"I dunno. I'd prefer to get away from home, but stay somewhere warm. So somewhere in, like, New Mexico, or Texas, maybe. But I've actually...I've actually been looking at a couple schools in Washington, too."

And good lord, that sounds so fucking desperate-to-be-near-you that Stiles could hit himself.

"I thought you don't like how much it rains."

"Well, I don't, but I do like how much more often I'd be able to see my boyfriend," he says pointedly.

"That shouldn't be your criteria for choosing a college. You should go to the best place for you."

"I can get a teacher certification anywhere," Stiles says, waving a hand as if Derek can see it. "There's only one of you, though."

Stiles is pretty sure, honestly, that this would have turned into a fight, had Derek not still been tip-toeing, being as nice and polite and gentlemanly as possible since the first one. He much prefers discussing things like adults to yelling about it, though, so he hopes things stay this way for good.

"I want you to go where you want to go, and I want that to be the most important factor. The only factor, even. In fact..." Derek pauses, and Stiles knows he's about to say something big. "Look, you won't have to leave for another nine months. If I'm still here in Washington with Cora, that'll make it nearly a year that I've put everything else aside for her. So if we're not home by then - and that's worst case, because I really think she'll be better by then - but if she's not, I'll tell her that it's time for me to get on with my life. And I can...I'll follow you. Wherever you want to go, I'll be right behind you."

For a second, Stiles is knocked speechless, mouth gaping. Then, carefully, making sure not to let his voice crack, he says "You're kind of perfect, you know that? I mean, what did I do to deserve you?"

"I ask myself the same thing all the time."

"God, I miss you."

"I thought we were trying not to be that couple."

Stiles laughs, then says "Screw it. Let's be that couple. We can be any kind of couple we want to be, damn it."

"In that case, I miss you too," Derek says, laughing all the while.

"I told everyone about us," Stiles mentions, because it seems like the time to say it. "On Thanksgiving."

"Everyone?" Derek asks, and Stiles snorts, because he can hear the unasked question of even your dad?

"Yes, sir. Well, everyone that matters. Lydia, Isaac, Allison, my parents."

"You told your mom? About me?"

"Mhm."

"I'm honored," Derek says, quietly.

"I think she'd have really liked you."

"I think I'd have really liked her," he says, and Stiles smiles.

"I wish you could have met her."

"I'll go with you to see her some time."

"She'd like that," Stiles says. "I'd like that."

They fall into a comfortable silence, save for the sound of Stiles slurping on his milkshake.

When the slurping finally ceases, Derek asks him if he's ready to go.

"I'm done, yeah, but can we just...can we not go home just yet? I'm not ready to say goodbye."

"Sure," Derek says, and Stiles appreciates that he doesn't mention how pathetic he sounded just then. "Let's take a walk."

"Hey, Stiles?" Derek asks, as they're both pacing around their respective towns.

"Yes, my better half?"

"You know how much I love you, right? I just feel like I've been saying it so much lately it's starting to lose its meaning, but I mean it. Before you, I'd never said it to anyone but Kate, but you...you make me want to say it to everyone. All the time. To you, to Cora, to the random strangers I pass on the street. You just make me want to be a better person. You're my better half. And I really, really do love you."

Stiles can't even help it, he sheds a (manly) tear or two. "I know you do, Der. It won't lose its meaning to me until you stop meaning it. And I really, really love you, too. And fuck, I hate being away from you."

"I know, but we'll be okay. We'll make it."

"I know." He smiles. "There's this song, Endlessly, that always makes me think of you. Of us."

Stiles wishes he had a nice voice, wishes he could serenade Derek, make him swoon like Derek always does to him. But he can't sing worth a damn, but he still wants Derek to hear the lyrics, so he goes for the comedic approach, and just busts it out at the top of his lungs.

"I'm not perfect, but I swear I'm perfect for you. And there's no guarantee, that this'll be eeeeasy. It's not a miracle you need, belieeeeeve me. Yeah, I'm no angel, I'm just me, but I will love you endlesslyyyy!"

Then Derek's laughing, and it's the 'throw your head back, stop what you're doing because you're laughing so hard' kind of laughing, and Stiles gets a warm feeling in his stomach.

"I'll love you endlessly, too, you dork."

Stiles grins. "Wanna go home and watch Community all night?"

"I'll race you."

"You are so on," he says before hanging up.

As he's sprinting to his car, looking completely insane, it hits him that he can't remember the last time he was this happy.

Chapter Text

Stiles shows up at their door on Christmas Eve, soaking wet.

The day hadn't been bad so far - Cora's been doing notably better lately, so it made everything much more bearable. Lately, he could get her out of the motel room almost daily, and he was proud of her for that. But today, she'd been the one to initiate it, asked Derek if he wanted to go ice skating, or see a movie, or go to some bar and pretend to get drunk.

They did all of it, and it was the best day Derek had had in a long time.

And now they're sitting around, drinking eggnog and watching Supernatural together (after Derek made Cora swear on her life not to tell Stiles, because god, Derek's made fun of this show since ever) because they'd bought the first two seasons while they were out tonight as a Christmas present to each other, with the sound of rain pouring in the background.

So Derek's just sitting there, watching Sam and Dean take on Bloody Mary, when he gets a text message from Stiles.

He raises a brow in confusion, and shoots a glare at Cora, who's reading the message over his shoulder with a suspicious grin on her face.

And then there's a knock at the door, and all the air is knocked out of Derek in an instant, because no way.

He's up and across the room in record time, and his hands are shaking as he reaches for the doorknob and pulls.

"You know, Seattle could at least have the courtesy to be cold enough to turn the rain into snow. I'm fucking freez--"

Derek shuts Stiles up with a kiss, and fuck, he finally feels like he's home.

"Hi," Derek says once they pull away.

"Hi," Stiles says, then "God, I missed you," and he pulls Derek into a hug, clinging to him like he's dying.

And Derek doesn't care that Stiles is dripping wet, he holds him just as tightly.

"What are you doing here? What about your dad?"

Stiles shrugs. "I just told him how much Christmas means to you, and he was happy to let me come see you. He's spending it with Scott and Melissa, and Scott and I are executing an excellent mistletoe mission, so he'll probably end up thanking me for it."

Derek's smiling so hard he's sure his face is going to end up stuck like that.

"Look," Stiles says, and his voice gets quiet like it's something serious. "I kind of used every cent to my name to pay for the gas to get here, so I didn't get you an actual present, and I'm really sorry."

Derek rolls his eyes, shakes his head. "This is better."

Stiles grins, then turns to Cora, who'd walked up behind them.

"My girl!" he says, picking her up and twirling her around. "Thanks for keeping it a secret."

Derek gives her another of his world-famous glares. "You knew?"

She shrugs, winks at him. "Maybe."

"It's really good to see you smile in person, candycane. Such a--hey, is that Supernatural I spy on the TV?"

Derek sighs, defeated. "Maybe."

Derek braves the storm to go get Stiles' duffel bag from the Jeep ("My knight in shining armor!") so that he can change out of his wet clothes, and then the three of them watch Supernatural together.

He and Stiles are laying together on his bed, the one that's never felt quite right, and Stiles has his head on Derek's shoulder and his arm draped across his stomach, and Derek realizes that it wasn't the California air that he longed for, or the loft, or even the old house. This is all he's been missing.

He turns his head to press a kiss to Stiles' temple, and the instant smile he gets in return gives him a warm and fuzzy feeling.

He laces their fingers together, and appreciates Stiles not saying anything about him being a sap because of it.

Cora notices, though, and rolls her eyes. "God, get married already," she teases.

Derek laughs, but then Stiles says "We should get married," and it dies in his throat.

He must have misheard that.

"I...are you..."

"Yes, I'm serious."

He doesn't know what to say. All that's running through his mind is yesyesyes, but he's gotta give this a second here.

"I'm not saying no, but Stiles...have you really thought about this?"

"Mhm," Stiles hums. "I've thought about it a lot, actually. Ask me any question. Really. Hit me with it."

"What about the fact that you're only seventeen years old?"

"Psh. If Nathan and Haley can do it, we can do it," Stiles says matter-of-factly. "One Tree Hill," he adds when he realizes that's a reference Derek doesn't understand.

Derek figures that answer probably makes perfect sense in Stiles' head, so he lets him have it.

"Alright...what if the sex is bad?"

Stiles shrugs with the shoulder that isn't pressed against Derek. "Then we won't have sex. Or we'll have bad sex. I don't care. Me being a virgin and all, I probably wouldn't even be able to tell the difference," he says with a chuckle.

Derek smiles. "What if this doesn't turn out to be what you want?"

"Listen, I could give you a month-long speech about how much this is in fact what I want, but let me just remind you that I had a decade-long crush on a member of a team I don't even swing for. I'm embarrassingly serious about this stuff. I love you, and I want you, and I'm not gonna change my mind about that."

Derek's quiet for a moment, and Stiles feels the need to break the silence, of course.

"And hey, seriously, if you're not comfortable with marrying a minor, or whatever, we can wait until after graduation. That's completely fine. And you were probably going to get around to the 'what about the fact that we haven't been together very long' question, and yeah, technically we haven't been dating for long, but we've been in love for way longer, and we both know it. And as for what people think, I really couldn't care less. People will tell me I'm making the biggest mistake of my life, no doubt, but I'll know they're wrong, and so will you. I just really, really want to be your husband."

Stiles pauses, takes a deep breath.

"So. I know this is a completely lame proposal, because I don't have a ring, and I'm not even kneeling because you're so damn comfy I don't wanna move, but...will you marry me, Sourwolf?"

And what can he say? Derek's sold.

"Yeah, I can do that," he says, then proceeds to kiss Stiles silly.

Scott calls a little less than an hour later, and Stiles puts it on speakerphone when he answers.

"Mission was a success. I repeat, mission was a success. Sheriff and Mom kissed. Over."

"Stiles and I are engaged," Derek says with a smirk, because he can't help himself. Stiles looks over at him fondly.

"Okay, you guys win."

Stiles nudges him awake the next morning, mug of hot chocolate in his hand.

"Merry Christmas, my lovely fiancé," he says, handing Derek the mug as he sits up in bed.

Derek smiles at him, gives him a peck on the lips over the warmth of the hot chocolate. "Merry Christmas, Stiles."

Stiles beams right back at him, then gets up and walks over to Cora's bed to hand her a mug as well.

"Merry Christmas, Cora!" he singsongs to her, and Derek's heart swells, because he knows that Stiles is going to be an incredible brother-in-law.

"I need to talk to you guys, actually," she says.

Stiles plops down at the foot of her bed. "Shoot."

"I have a Christmas present for the two of you," she says. "Let's go home."

Derek opens his mouth to voice his concerns, but Stiles beats him to it.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do this for us, Cor. We'll be fine. You two could move to Hong Kong and we'd still be fine. We want to do what's best for you."

"I love you," Derek says, because he can't help it. "What he said," he says to Cora.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm ready. I really am. Being away has been nice, and I'm so thankful to you, Derek, for putting your life on hold for three months to run away with me, but it's time to face everything. It's time to go back."

Stiles attacks Cora with a bone-crushing hug, says "I love you I love you I love you," and he's bouncing like a toddler on a sugar rush.

And then he's tackling Derek, laughing almost hysterically, saying "And I love you, god, you're finally gonna be home."

Derek laughs right along with him, and he can't quite bring himself to feel bad for thinking that this is the best Christmas he's ever had.

They decide to go back to Beacon Hills after the new year, because Stiles is a poetic fucker and he thinks they should say goodbye to 2013 by saying goodbye to Seattle.

Until then, Stiles is glad to be away from home for awhile, and Cora and Derek are glad to have a little piece of home with them after all this time.

Chapter Text

The three of them make the most of the rest of their time in Washington.

They go on ferry rides (Derek learns that he gets incredibly seasick, and spends the entire time with his face in Stiles' chest to ground himself, using his scent to mask the salt), and to the Space Needle (Stiles learns that he's afraid of heights, and spends the entire time sandwiched between Derek and Cora, refusing to let go of either of their hands), and all the other touristy things that the ever-grumpy Hales never got around to doing without Stiles.

They go to a Seahawks game, and Derek and Stiles buy matching jerseys for some player they've never heard of, because Stiles insists it's cute and coupley. When they go to the bathroom to change, they end up helping each other out of their current clothing and making out in one of the stalls. Cora gives them a disapproving look when they finally make it to their seats twenty minutes later, hair disheveled and grins on both their faces.

Stiles kisses Derek at midnight on New Year's, and it's his first real New Year's kiss (not counting the ones from his mother when he was little, or that one time with Scott.) He kisses Cora, too, so she doesn't feel left out. ("At least you're conscious this time," he jokes.)

They tell each other their New Year's resolutions, so that they'll have people to hold them to it. Cora says she wants to learn to love Beacon Hills again. Stiles says he's going to beat his personal record of most TV series watched in a year. Derek says that all he wants to do is to be a good husband, and Stiles kisses him on the cheek and amends his own to include "and to love Derek more every day, if that's even possible."

They get in a fight on the last day, because they had agreed the night before that they were leaving at 10:00 the next morning, and now it's noon and Derek and Cora are still waiting on Stiles.

"Jesus, Stiles, out of the three of us, you're the one with absolutely no right to be taking this long. We've been here for months, for Christ's sake, you've been here for less than two weeks," Derek yells when he can't take it anymore.

Stiles pauses to look up from his laptop. (And, yes, okay, he's supposed to be packing--and he is, he just needs to find a download for the new Sherlock episode so that he can watch it while they're driving.)

"I don't focus well, sugarplum, you know that," he says, and it's anything but nice. "Just let me do this thing, and then I'll finish packing, alright?"

"You realize how disrespectful this is, right? We all agreed on a time to leave, and now here Cora and I are, with nothing to do, because we've packed everything, sitting around waiting on you."

"Patience is a virtue," Stiles mutters, but Derek's not having it.

"No, Stiles. This is you having no god damn respect for us or our time. It's unbelievable."

"Oh, I have no respect for you? Really?" He'd been trying not to raise his voice, but that ship has sailed.

"Just hurry up, Stilinski, or we're leaving without you, I swear to God," Derek says.

"Maybe you should!" Stiles yells, and wow, is he six years old? Because that comeback would suggest so. He can't take it back now, though, so he goes into the bathroom, and slams the door for good measure.

He sits down on the side of the tub, and scrolls through Twitter on his phone, because what the hell else is he supposed to do in here?

About fifteen minutes later, someone knocks on the bathroom door. Stiles stands up and opens it, most unimpressed expression he can muster on his face.

"I love you," Derek tells him, and he presses a gentle kiss to Stiles' forehead.

He breaks out in a smile, because it only took Derek one fight to learn what Stiles needs. (And he's grateful for that, because it took him forever to drill it into Scott's head.)

"I would have been in here faster, but I finished packing for you. Oh, and I found your stupid download. So can we please go now, darling?"

"You're my favorite," Stiles says, then nods. "Love you."

They stop at a record store before they officially get going, so they'll have good music for the road.

They each choose a CD; Stiles picks All Time Low, Derek picks The Cab ("Aw, baby, you're so sentimental"), and Cora picks Van Halen.

"Okay, wait, wait, wait," Stiles says, like it's an emergency, and grabs Selena Gomez's latest album.

When Cora raises a brow questioningly, he says "We had all guy groups. We needed some womanly influence," like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

No one argues, because it's Stiles.

They take turns driving.

"Hey," Stiles says to Cora during one of his shifts, while Derek's asleep in the backseat. "I'm sorry if Der and I have made you feel third-wheely since I've been here. I know this whole thing was kind of you two's adventure, so I'm sorry if I, you know, encroached, or anything like that."

"Don't be stupid," Cora says, shaking her head. "You guys are actually really good at making me feel included. I never feel left out, like I'm just a girl hanging out with two guys in love. It always feels like...I don't know. Like family."

"I'm glad," he says, smiling. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, I do," she says. "Thanks for that, by the way. For teaching Derek how to tell the people he loves that he loves them. It kind of taught me, too."

"Say 'I love you' as often as you say 'hello.' S'what my mom always used to tell me."

"She was a smart woman. I love you, too, by the way."

"She taught me everything I know," Stiles says, smiling sadly. "I only knew her until I was eight, but I've used all her little pieces of advice to navigate my real, grown up relationship with Derek. She's never been wrong."

Cora puts a comforting hand on Stiles' arm, and she doesn't move it until it's her turn to drive.

Come & Get It turns out to be the only song off of any of the four albums that all three of them know. When it comes on, Stiles cranks it up to max volume, and they all belt it out. And Stiles knows that Derek's been loosening up a lot lately, but to witness it in person, to see Derek singing a Selena Gomez song at the top of his lungs with a smile on his face, completely carefree, it gives him an incredible feeling. He adds it to his mental list of the top ten best moments of his life, singing the lyrics on autopilot.

Derek watches Sherlock with Stiles while Cora's driving, without Stiles having to ask him.

About halfway into it, Stiles pauses it so that he can talk.

"I really love when you watch TV with me."

"I really love you," Derek says, and winks playfully. "I'd sit through any stupid show with you. Even Gossip Girl."

"Are you saying that Sherlock is stupid? Because let me tell you, buddy..." Stiles starts, but then he cuts off suddenly and sits up so fast he gets a bit of a head rush. "Wait, are you saying that you'll watch Gossip Girl with me?"

"I'll probably regret it, but I guess that's what I'm saying, yeah."

"Oh my god, you're too good to be true. If I hadn't already proposed, I'd do it right now."

"Because of Gossip Girl?" Derek asks, laughing.

"Because of Gossip Girl."

When they get close to Beacon Hills, the car gets quiet.

"Are you 100% sure about this?" Derek asks Cora. He looks over at her when he stops at a red light.

"Yep. I'm sure. Positive."

Stiles leans forward from the backseat to pat her on the shoulder.

"I believe in you, Cora. We both do. You can do this."

"I know. I know," she says quietly, more to herself than to anyone else. "I have missed everyone."

"I'm sure everyone's missed you too," Derek says.

"We've all missed you both like crazy," Stiles agrees.

Cora nods. "Let's do this."

Turns out, Scott had taken it upon himself to throw them a welcome home/engagement party, and there are so many cars at Stiles' house when they pull up that they have to park clear down the street.

Cora panics a little as they climb out of the car, because a party is a little too much too fast, but Stiles knows she's strong enough to handle it.

"Promise you guys won't leave my side," she says.

"Promise," they say in unison, and she nods.

"Okay."

The whole pack is there, and Stiles can see Derek visibly relax at the sight of all the people he'd left behind, all safe and sound.

Scott tackles Stiles in a hug before he can even make it through the door. "I missed you, buddy!"

And then everyone is hugging everyone, a mess of tangled limbs.

Everyone is much more interested in Derek and Cora's three months away than Stiles' two weeks, so after ensuring that Cora will be okay without him, Stiles falls back with Scott, away from everyone else.

"You're my best friend, dude," Scott says, out of the blue.

"You're my best friend, too." Stiles pauses a moment before saying, "And, I was hoping you could also be my best man."

Scott jumps up, grinning like an excited puppy. "Yeah, buddy. Of course."

Stiles pats him on the back. "Thanks, Scott. And thanks for not saying anything."

"About what?"

"Me making a huge mistake."

Scott shakes his head. "Look, man...under normal circumstances, yeah, I'd say it's a little iffy, but you and Derek are different, you know? You're kind of made for each other, as stupid as that sounds. And besides, if Nathan and Haley can do it, the two of you sure as hell can."

Stiles beams, because this is why Scott's his best friend. "That's what I said."

When they tell everyone they're engaged, there's another round of hugs.

All the girls want to know who proposed, and how, and where.

Stiles is all too excited to make up an intricate story about doing it at the top of the Space Needle with balloons and flowers and a skywriter and everything, until Derek laughs and tells the real story, and says it was even better.

Later, once everyone's finally gone, Derek wraps his arms around Stiles' waist from behind, pressing a kiss to his neck.

"Hi," he says.

"Hey, babe. You don't care about a big wedding ceremony, do you?"

"Not particularly," Derek shrugs, then asks, "Do you?"

"Couldn't care less."

They get married a week later at City Hall. (Lydia's furious once she finds out, said she was looking forward to planning the wedding, but Stiles figures she'll get over it eventually. "I couldn't stand not being married to him, Lyd," Stiles tells her, and she grumbles something about not being able to stay mad at the cutest freaking couple on earth.)

His dad's there (partially because he's a minor and therefore needs parental consent, but mostly because he couldn't do it without him), and the best men, Scott and Cora, but they don't tell anyone else about it until after.

All three of them give speeches that bring Stiles to tears, and then the lady is saying congratulations and Derek is kissing him and holy hell, they're married.

"We're married," he says to Derek, pressing their foreheads together.

"Good observation," Derek says, and winks at him.

"I freaking love you, Derek Hale."

"I've been thinking about Derek Stilinski, actually," he says casually, like it's no big deal.

Stiles grins and kisses him until they're both breathless.

Stiles ends up going to The University of Texas, and he's ecstatic when Scott tells him he got in, too. ("Looks like you're not as big of a dumbass as we all thought," he jokes. "I'm so proud of you, buddy.")

"How do you feel about Austin?" Stiles asks Derek over breakfast on the day he's officially decided.

"Sounds perfect."

"As long as I can come," Cora interjects from her spot on the couch.

"I suppose that'd be alright," Stiles teases.

Scott pouts about Stiles leaving him for dead in the dorm rooms while he lives with Derek until Stiles can't take it anymore.

He wants to offer for Scott to live with them, but he doesn't know if Derek would be okay with it, and he hasn't found a way to bring it up yet.

To his surprise, Derek offers himself before Stiles can figure it out.

"You might as well," Derek says. "Cora's already gonna be with us, anyway. What's one more?"

Scott jumps into his arms and hugs him, and Derek just rolls his eyes.

Cora enrolls at the community college, and they find a nice three-bedroom apartment.

"We've been married for less than a year, and we already have two kids," Stiles jokes as they're signing the lease.

"At least they have money," Derek says with a smile.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," Derek says, smirking.

"I hate you," Stiles says simply. "When did you know? That you loved me?"

Derek pauses for a moment, thinking.

"I always did, I think. But the moment it hit me was that day I was at your house. I wanted so badly to kiss you before I left, and the fact that I couldn't really hit me."

"Aw, baby," Stiles says, pinching his cheek affectionately. "I'd have given anything for you to have kissed me."

"When did you know?" Derek asks, curiously.

"The minute Scott told me you left," Stiles says honestly.

Derek smiles, takes Stiles' face in his hands. "I'm not going anywhere," he says, leaning in to kiss his husband.