Fic: Occam's Razor (14/14)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
It was a difficult week, but Stiles got through it. By the skin of his teeth, it felt like, but he did. He made up his chemistry final, though his final grade wasn’t going to dazzle anybody. He put in a little more effort to talk to Isaac, despite Isaac’s growly-bitey-wounded-animal attitude. And he warned Malia about Peter.
That had been an uncomfortable conversation. Because Stiles couldn’t tell her Peter was her biological father - who knew how that would blow up in their faces - and he couldn’t tell her how he knew she was in danger. Like anyone would believe Stiles being able to tell the future if he tried, anyway. Basically he was telling a girl who’d been through enough trauma in her life that some old guy she didn’t know wanted to abduct her so she best watch herself. She was looking at Stiles like maybe he did belong in Eichen House by the time he was finished, and he figured he kind of deserved that. He’d think the same thing in her place.
It was maddening not knowing if she’d even heed his words. If she would even think twice about crossing a dark street alone. He wanted to shake her and tell her it was real, Peter was a threat, but he couldn’t. He had to arm her with the information and hope for the best.
Which sucked.
Stiles was one hundred percent done with dealing with people by the week’s end. Everything he said or did, he worried it was unduly influenced by events he shouldn’t rightly know about. It was stressing him out. He wondered if descending into hermitdom was an option at his age.
That’s why Stiles was holed up in his room Saturday night, having turned down Scott’s invitation to hang out. Scott was still concerned about him, though whether it was about the nogitsune or his latest funk, Stiles didn’t really know. Because his life was just that awesome that he had multiple reasons to be depressed.
Stiles wanted to block it all out. Thus the reason he was lying in bed, laptop on his stomach playing music, and earbuds shoved into his ears. His eyes were closed so he didn’t even have to see his room. Because that was wrong, too. There should be a painting of a pack of wolves on the wall.
He nearly had a heart attack when someone snatched the laptop off his stomach and it yanked the earbuds out of his ears.
“Hey, what -” he protested, then his voice died in his throat when he looked up and saw Derek in his bedroom, laptop in hand and glaring down at Stiles.
A snare drum solo started inside his ribcage.
“Do you want to tell me why Malia Tate came to the loft to see my uncle with this idea he was planning on kidnapping her that she apparently got from you?”
“She what?!” Stiles leapt to his feet.
Derek tossed Stiles’ laptop on to his bed. “She came to see Peter. She was livid. I had to separate them.”
“I told her to stay away from him! What the hell was she thinking?”
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“Where is she now?” Stiles insisted. “Malia… is she okay?”
“She’s fine… I dropped her off at Scott’s before I came here.”
“Oh thank god,” Stiles sat down on his bed, relief washing through him. At least someone was with her, watching her. Scott would keep her safe.
“Now you tell me what possessed you to tell Malia that Peter wants to abduct her.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order.
“Because he does,” Stiles countered.
Instead of deny it or proclaim such an idea unthinkable, Derek frowned thoughtfully. “What makes you so sure?”
“I can’t… I can’t tell you that, you just have to trust me. He’s a threat to her, and I couldn’t do nothing. I had to warn her.”
Derek eyed him, and Stiles wanted to cry. His husband would have believed him, but he didn’t have that relationship with this Derek. This Derek probably thought Stiles was cracked, broken from the nogitsune that had so recently been in residence.
“Look,” Derek began, “I get you being protective of your little girlfriend -”
“She’s not my girlfriend!”
Derek went quiet then. Stiles just wanted the encounter to end. He was going to ruin everything.
Without a word, Derek went over to Stiles’ desk, grabbed his chair, and brought it toward the bed. He positioned it facing Stiles and sat down, looking intently at him. Stiles swallowed. It was too close and too far away at the same time.
“I know my uncle is dangerous,” Derek said lowly, uncharacteristically honest and very much the opposite of defensive at that moment. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him, because I don’t trust him. It’s the only reason I’ve let him stay - I want him where I can watch him.” He sighed and looked down at his hands. Like he was thinking about what he should do with them. He returned his gaze to Stiles. “Are you sure about this?”
“I am serious as a heart attack. Peter is going to kidnap her.” He looked Derek in the eye, beseeching him. “I know it sounds crazy, and I can’t tell you how I know, but if you’ve ever trusted me about anything, trust me on this.”
Derek studied him for a long time. Stiles tried to swallow the heart lodged in his throat.
Eventually, Derek’s expression hardened again and he sat back. “You should have known better than to tell Malia. She’s still too feral. You show her a threat and she’s not going to back down from it. She’s a predator.”
“Then what was I supposed to do?” Stiles asked, incredulous.
“You should have come to me.”
He couldn’t go to Derek. He hadn’t been sure the sight of him wouldn’t break his heart. He wasn’t sure it wasn’t doing that right now.
“I’ll handle this,” Derek said, standing up to leave, “but next time you plan on dropping a disaster in my lap, maybe warn me about it first?” His voice carried a hint of a growl.
Stiles felt his body trembling.
Derek paused then. He stepped forward and leaned down to look closer at Stiles.
Stiles panicked just a little and jumped to his feet so he could put some distance between them.
Derek’s eyes tracked him, expression confused. “Your heart’s going crazy… are you…?” Derek’s eyebrows rose. “You’re scared of me.”
“I’ve always been scared of you,” Stiles argued feebly.
“Not like this.” Derek frowned. “Are you okay?”
Stiles opened his mouth, but no words would come out. He struggled to breathe for a minute, then he just looked at Derek. No, he was not okay. He was supposed to be married. They were adopting a baby.
And Derek had no idea.
He must have looked bad, because Derek got uncomfortable and cleared his throat. “Should you be left alone?”
Stiles forced out a laugh. “Why, you going to stay and read me a bedtime story?” The words came out before he could stop them. He remembered Derek sitting at his bedside reading ShineGold to him, voice steady and soothing and home.
Derek’s eyes landed on Stiles’ ceiling, as if praying for the restraint not to bludgeon him.
“Don’t worry about me,” Stiles offered, trying for cavalier and missing it by a mile.
“You make that literally impossible,” Derek returned. Then he sighed. “I have to go. Don’t…”
“Don’t do anything stupid?” Stiles guessed. “Come on, this is me we’re talking about.”
“I know.”
Then Derek was crawling out Stiles’ bedroom window, and Stiles was backing up until he hit a wall. He slid down to sit on the floor, fighting to control his lungs, clenching his hands into fists.
It took all his willpower not to climb out the window right after Derek.
********************
Derek: come to the loft at 6
Stiles stared at the text message from Derek on his phone two days later, not trusting his eyes.
It wasn’t really an invitation though, it was a command, and Stiles numbly wrote back:
Stiles: ok
When he showed up at six o’clock with his backpack slung over one shoulder, he wondered what the medical odds were of someone his age working themselves into a cardiac arrest. He banged on the metal door and barely heard the sound over his own heart as he tried to tamp down on the flight reflex.
Too late now, because the door slid open and Derek was looking back at him.
“Hey,” Stiles squeaked, fidgeting.
“Hi,” Derek gave him a patented ‘what is wrong with you’ frown, then stepped back. “Come on in.”
Stiles walked inside and Derek shut the door behind him.
Immediately, Stiles looked around for Peter. It was instinct. When you walk into a viper pit, you look for snakes.
“Where’s Peter?”
Derek stepped past him into the loft. “He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Stiles blinked as he followed Derek.
Derek sat down on his couch and regarded Stiles a moment. Stiles felt like he was at an audition, stuck in the spotlight, all eyes on him. He fiddled with the fabric adjustment strap to his backpack. It was worn and frayed from how often it fell victim to Stiles’ restless hands.
“Scott, Isaac, and I ran him out of town yesterday.”
Stiles’ hands froze. He stared at Derek, eyes wide. “You did?”
Derek nodded.
“Because… because of what I said?”
Derek looked pointedly at him. That was a ‘yes, but don’t make me say it’ if Stiles ever saw one.
“I…” Stiles stammered, “I didn’t think you’d do that just because I… I don’t know what to say.”
Derek scowled. “Stiles, you’re… you’re possibly the most irritating human being I have ever met. You talk too much, and you never stop moving, and half the time I want to throw you out a window. But you have this thing about protecting people. You put yourself in danger to help people you don’t even know. And if you do know them - if they’re a friend - you’re kind of frightening. Your loyalty to your friends is like… a werewolf’s loyalty to its pack.” Derek shook his head at the thought. “The other night, you were so sure about Peter. That was enough for me.”
Stiles was stunned.
“Besides,” Derek added sourly, “when she was here challenging my uncle, Malia said that you were the one who warned her about him. There was something in Peter’s eyes that I… I knew you wouldn’t be safe from him.”
He’d done it to protect Stiles.
That managed to uproot Stiles’ feet from the spot they were in. He moved to the couch and sat down on the other end, setting his backpack on the floor. “So you called in the troops and chased him off?”
“Scott and Isaac weren’t very eager to help me at first when I told them I was going to kick Peter out of town,” Derek growled, and Stiles got it. He’d heard this story from the backend, of the pack flying apart and Derek alone at ground zero. “They didn’t get on board with the idea until I told them it was yours.”
“But it wasn’t… not really.”
Derek shrugged. “I took some liberties. Are you saying you didn’t want Peter out of town?”
“I want him dead, but you can’t always get what you want.”
Derek snorted.
A not-completely-uncomfortable silence fell between them.
“So…” Stiles started, “why did you ask me to come over? You could have just texted me about Peter.”
The question made Derek look uncertain. “There was something weird going on the other night. Something was off with you.” He shrugged, failing to fake indifference. “I guess I wanted another shot at figuring it out.”
“Can’t resist a puzzle, Mr. Hale?” Stiles teased. When Derek didn’t take the bait, he cleared his throat. “So then I guess you’re still eavesdropping on my ticker.”
“I know the beatings of your heart, and this is…” Derek canted his head to catch the sound better, “this is new. I don’t know what it means.”
That was an honest answer, at least, so Stiles did his best to reciprocate. “I’ve been working through some stuff lately.”
That earned him a look from Derek. “Stuff. About me?”
Oh, boy. Talk about a loaded question. Stiles looked pointedly at him. “You know if you ask and I lie you’ll be able to tell I’m lying, so think hard before you ask.”
Derek blinked at the blunt statement, opened his mouth… then shut it.
He had to suspect. Between Stiles’ heart and his scent, he had to be leaking clues. But mercifully Derek didn’t say anything.
And he didn’t throw Stiles out.
“I got you something,” Stiles broke into the tense silence. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a brand-new copy of ShineGold. He handed it to Derek, who took the book with a puzzled frown.
“You got me a book?”
“I have a feeling you’ll like it.”
Derek thumbed through the pages. “Okay. Thanks?”
Stiles laughed. “You’d think no one ever gave you a present before.”
“It’s been a long time,” Derek conceded as he turned the book over in his hands. The last time someone gave Derek a gift was probably before the fire. That made Stiles want to hug the guy. Because he knew Derek liked physical affection. He knew Derek was a cuddler underneath that growly werewolf exterior.
But they weren’t there yet.
Maybe one day, though.
“I better get home,” Stiles said as he got up and shouldered his backpack.
Derek put ShineGold on the couch cushion beside him and stood to see Stiles out.
When he was standing outside Derek’s loft, Stiles turned and said in parting, “Thank you for trusting me.”
One corner of Derek’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. “Just don’t get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Stiles smiled. “I’ll see you later.”
***************
Stiles couldn’t sleep. He was too keyed up. He was high from his time at Derek’s. It had only been a conversation, granted, but Stiles was drunk on it. Had there been sweeping declarations of love? No. But Derek had gathered an (albeit small) army and thrown his own uncle out of town because he trusted Stiles. Because he wanted to keep Stiles safe. It probably didn’t hurt that Derek didn’t trust Peter as far as he could throw him in the first place, but still. He’d been putting up with the psycho for years, biding his time and keeping watch, but when Stiles said ‘enough’, Derek tossed him.
It was already different from the beginning, when Derek had sided with his uncle. Now push came to shove, and Derek picked Stiles.
It was their weird backwards relationship where they trusted each other with their lives, but wouldn’t say they were friends.
Stiles hoped that would change. He knew how good they could be.
On a whim, Stiles grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and texted:
Stiles: what are you doing?
He maybe kind of held his breath until the phone dinged with an incoming text.
Derek: reading
Stiles grinned.
Derek: why are you awake?
Stiles: can’t sleep
He tapped his finger against the side of the phone waiting for a response.
Derek: any reason?
He probably meant like a nogitsune or a kanima or homicidal hunters, but Stiles would just pretend it was more than that. He was going to act like Derek cared. It was late and he was going to be idealistic for a hot minute, god damnit.
Stiles: brain won’t stop talking
He imagined Derek’s chuckle.
Stiles debated a moment before sending his next text.
Stiles: we should go on a road trip sometime
Derek: you mean the pack?
Stiles: no
Stiles: you and me
Stiles chewed on his lip anxiously. Was that too much? Too soon? It probably was. Shit. He was going to blow it. He was going to send Derek running for the hills.
As the seconds crawled by and his phone rested inert in his hands, he felt that familiar tightening in his chest of his lungs threatening to seize up on him. He didn’t know what he’d do if he screwed this up. He’d had a good day today, and there was no denying it was because he’d seen hope of having the life he’d tasted. Not just having it for a few weeks, but for a lifetime.
He wasn’t sure what he’d do if that light at the end of the tunnel was ripped from him, if…
Derek: maybe
Stiles heaved out a sigh. It wasn’t exactly a marriage proposal, but it was Derek not dismissing out of hand the idea of him and Stiles hitting the road together. With Derek, Stiles would take what he could get. After all, this wasn’t the Derek that smiled against his skin. This wasn’t the Derek that pulled him close to nuzzle his neck, tickling Stiles with his stubble. Not yet. There was a lot of work left to do to tame that wolf.
But Stiles had an advantage. He knew it could be done. He’d seen it. Lived it. Breathed it. He’d tangled naked and happy with it.
Derek: go to sleep stiles
Stiles smiled and put his phone back on the nightstand. He turned over in bed and got comfortable, tugging up the nice blue covers and burrowing into his pillow with the magical sleep-inducing powers.
He honestly felt good. It was almost a strange sensation to him. When he’d woken up in his old life, as his old self, it had been a crushing disappointment. It felt like nothing but losses everywhere he looked. If future Derek’s accounts could be believed, this was the hardest time in Stiles’ life. And Stiles didn’t doubt that. The nogitsune had left him in ruins. No one knew how completely, because he pretended all the time. Most days, he felt more like the act than a person. He was a cheap veneer over wreckage.
But not today. Today, he actually felt good. And all because he’d held out his hand, and Derek didn’t bite him. Maybe there wasn’t as much ground to make up as he thought. Maybe Derek Hale wasn’t as wild as he seemed… or maybe he didn’t really want to be. Maybe they both wanted comfort and companionship, even now, but were too damaged to seek it. Maybe. Maybe.
Maybe Stiles could have that life he’d had but briefly. For keeps.
Before he drifted off, Stiles whispered into the darkness, like a schoolgirl with a crush, “I’m going to marry you someday, Derek Hale.”
It felt good to say it.
It would feel even better to make it happen.
END
It was a difficult week, but Stiles got through it. By the skin of his teeth, it felt like, but he did. He made up his chemistry final, though his final grade wasn’t going to dazzle anybody. He put in a little more effort to talk to Isaac, despite Isaac’s growly-bitey-wounded-animal attitude. And he warned Malia about Peter.
That had been an uncomfortable conversation. Because Stiles couldn’t tell her Peter was her biological father - who knew how that would blow up in their faces - and he couldn’t tell her how he knew she was in danger. Like anyone would believe Stiles being able to tell the future if he tried, anyway. Basically he was telling a girl who’d been through enough trauma in her life that some old guy she didn’t know wanted to abduct her so she best watch herself. She was looking at Stiles like maybe he did belong in Eichen House by the time he was finished, and he figured he kind of deserved that. He’d think the same thing in her place.
It was maddening not knowing if she’d even heed his words. If she would even think twice about crossing a dark street alone. He wanted to shake her and tell her it was real, Peter was a threat, but he couldn’t. He had to arm her with the information and hope for the best.
Which sucked.
Stiles was one hundred percent done with dealing with people by the week’s end. Everything he said or did, he worried it was unduly influenced by events he shouldn’t rightly know about. It was stressing him out. He wondered if descending into hermitdom was an option at his age.
That’s why Stiles was holed up in his room Saturday night, having turned down Scott’s invitation to hang out. Scott was still concerned about him, though whether it was about the nogitsune or his latest funk, Stiles didn’t really know. Because his life was just that awesome that he had multiple reasons to be depressed.
Stiles wanted to block it all out. Thus the reason he was lying in bed, laptop on his stomach playing music, and earbuds shoved into his ears. His eyes were closed so he didn’t even have to see his room. Because that was wrong, too. There should be a painting of a pack of wolves on the wall.
He nearly had a heart attack when someone snatched the laptop off his stomach and it yanked the earbuds out of his ears.
“Hey, what -” he protested, then his voice died in his throat when he looked up and saw Derek in his bedroom, laptop in hand and glaring down at Stiles.
A snare drum solo started inside his ribcage.
“Do you want to tell me why Malia Tate came to the loft to see my uncle with this idea he was planning on kidnapping her that she apparently got from you?”
“She what?!” Stiles leapt to his feet.
Derek tossed Stiles’ laptop on to his bed. “She came to see Peter. She was livid. I had to separate them.”
“I told her to stay away from him! What the hell was she thinking?”
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“Where is she now?” Stiles insisted. “Malia… is she okay?”
“She’s fine… I dropped her off at Scott’s before I came here.”
“Oh thank god,” Stiles sat down on his bed, relief washing through him. At least someone was with her, watching her. Scott would keep her safe.
“Now you tell me what possessed you to tell Malia that Peter wants to abduct her.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order.
“Because he does,” Stiles countered.
Instead of deny it or proclaim such an idea unthinkable, Derek frowned thoughtfully. “What makes you so sure?”
“I can’t… I can’t tell you that, you just have to trust me. He’s a threat to her, and I couldn’t do nothing. I had to warn her.”
Derek eyed him, and Stiles wanted to cry. His husband would have believed him, but he didn’t have that relationship with this Derek. This Derek probably thought Stiles was cracked, broken from the nogitsune that had so recently been in residence.
“Look,” Derek began, “I get you being protective of your little girlfriend -”
“She’s not my girlfriend!”
Derek went quiet then. Stiles just wanted the encounter to end. He was going to ruin everything.
Without a word, Derek went over to Stiles’ desk, grabbed his chair, and brought it toward the bed. He positioned it facing Stiles and sat down, looking intently at him. Stiles swallowed. It was too close and too far away at the same time.
“I know my uncle is dangerous,” Derek said lowly, uncharacteristically honest and very much the opposite of defensive at that moment. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him, because I don’t trust him. It’s the only reason I’ve let him stay - I want him where I can watch him.” He sighed and looked down at his hands. Like he was thinking about what he should do with them. He returned his gaze to Stiles. “Are you sure about this?”
“I am serious as a heart attack. Peter is going to kidnap her.” He looked Derek in the eye, beseeching him. “I know it sounds crazy, and I can’t tell you how I know, but if you’ve ever trusted me about anything, trust me on this.”
Derek studied him for a long time. Stiles tried to swallow the heart lodged in his throat.
Eventually, Derek’s expression hardened again and he sat back. “You should have known better than to tell Malia. She’s still too feral. You show her a threat and she’s not going to back down from it. She’s a predator.”
“Then what was I supposed to do?” Stiles asked, incredulous.
“You should have come to me.”
He couldn’t go to Derek. He hadn’t been sure the sight of him wouldn’t break his heart. He wasn’t sure it wasn’t doing that right now.
“I’ll handle this,” Derek said, standing up to leave, “but next time you plan on dropping a disaster in my lap, maybe warn me about it first?” His voice carried a hint of a growl.
Stiles felt his body trembling.
Derek paused then. He stepped forward and leaned down to look closer at Stiles.
Stiles panicked just a little and jumped to his feet so he could put some distance between them.
Derek’s eyes tracked him, expression confused. “Your heart’s going crazy… are you…?” Derek’s eyebrows rose. “You’re scared of me.”
“I’ve always been scared of you,” Stiles argued feebly.
“Not like this.” Derek frowned. “Are you okay?”
Stiles opened his mouth, but no words would come out. He struggled to breathe for a minute, then he just looked at Derek. No, he was not okay. He was supposed to be married. They were adopting a baby.
And Derek had no idea.
He must have looked bad, because Derek got uncomfortable and cleared his throat. “Should you be left alone?”
Stiles forced out a laugh. “Why, you going to stay and read me a bedtime story?” The words came out before he could stop them. He remembered Derek sitting at his bedside reading ShineGold to him, voice steady and soothing and home.
Derek’s eyes landed on Stiles’ ceiling, as if praying for the restraint not to bludgeon him.
“Don’t worry about me,” Stiles offered, trying for cavalier and missing it by a mile.
“You make that literally impossible,” Derek returned. Then he sighed. “I have to go. Don’t…”
“Don’t do anything stupid?” Stiles guessed. “Come on, this is me we’re talking about.”
“I know.”
Then Derek was crawling out Stiles’ bedroom window, and Stiles was backing up until he hit a wall. He slid down to sit on the floor, fighting to control his lungs, clenching his hands into fists.
It took all his willpower not to climb out the window right after Derek.
********************
Derek: come to the loft at 6
Stiles stared at the text message from Derek on his phone two days later, not trusting his eyes.
It wasn’t really an invitation though, it was a command, and Stiles numbly wrote back:
Stiles: ok
When he showed up at six o’clock with his backpack slung over one shoulder, he wondered what the medical odds were of someone his age working themselves into a cardiac arrest. He banged on the metal door and barely heard the sound over his own heart as he tried to tamp down on the flight reflex.
Too late now, because the door slid open and Derek was looking back at him.
“Hey,” Stiles squeaked, fidgeting.
“Hi,” Derek gave him a patented ‘what is wrong with you’ frown, then stepped back. “Come on in.”
Stiles walked inside and Derek shut the door behind him.
Immediately, Stiles looked around for Peter. It was instinct. When you walk into a viper pit, you look for snakes.
“Where’s Peter?”
Derek stepped past him into the loft. “He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Stiles blinked as he followed Derek.
Derek sat down on his couch and regarded Stiles a moment. Stiles felt like he was at an audition, stuck in the spotlight, all eyes on him. He fiddled with the fabric adjustment strap to his backpack. It was worn and frayed from how often it fell victim to Stiles’ restless hands.
“Scott, Isaac, and I ran him out of town yesterday.”
Stiles’ hands froze. He stared at Derek, eyes wide. “You did?”
Derek nodded.
“Because… because of what I said?”
Derek looked pointedly at him. That was a ‘yes, but don’t make me say it’ if Stiles ever saw one.
“I…” Stiles stammered, “I didn’t think you’d do that just because I… I don’t know what to say.”
Derek scowled. “Stiles, you’re… you’re possibly the most irritating human being I have ever met. You talk too much, and you never stop moving, and half the time I want to throw you out a window. But you have this thing about protecting people. You put yourself in danger to help people you don’t even know. And if you do know them - if they’re a friend - you’re kind of frightening. Your loyalty to your friends is like… a werewolf’s loyalty to its pack.” Derek shook his head at the thought. “The other night, you were so sure about Peter. That was enough for me.”
Stiles was stunned.
“Besides,” Derek added sourly, “when she was here challenging my uncle, Malia said that you were the one who warned her about him. There was something in Peter’s eyes that I… I knew you wouldn’t be safe from him.”
He’d done it to protect Stiles.
That managed to uproot Stiles’ feet from the spot they were in. He moved to the couch and sat down on the other end, setting his backpack on the floor. “So you called in the troops and chased him off?”
“Scott and Isaac weren’t very eager to help me at first when I told them I was going to kick Peter out of town,” Derek growled, and Stiles got it. He’d heard this story from the backend, of the pack flying apart and Derek alone at ground zero. “They didn’t get on board with the idea until I told them it was yours.”
“But it wasn’t… not really.”
Derek shrugged. “I took some liberties. Are you saying you didn’t want Peter out of town?”
“I want him dead, but you can’t always get what you want.”
Derek snorted.
A not-completely-uncomfortable silence fell between them.
“So…” Stiles started, “why did you ask me to come over? You could have just texted me about Peter.”
The question made Derek look uncertain. “There was something weird going on the other night. Something was off with you.” He shrugged, failing to fake indifference. “I guess I wanted another shot at figuring it out.”
“Can’t resist a puzzle, Mr. Hale?” Stiles teased. When Derek didn’t take the bait, he cleared his throat. “So then I guess you’re still eavesdropping on my ticker.”
“I know the beatings of your heart, and this is…” Derek canted his head to catch the sound better, “this is new. I don’t know what it means.”
That was an honest answer, at least, so Stiles did his best to reciprocate. “I’ve been working through some stuff lately.”
That earned him a look from Derek. “Stuff. About me?”
Oh, boy. Talk about a loaded question. Stiles looked pointedly at him. “You know if you ask and I lie you’ll be able to tell I’m lying, so think hard before you ask.”
Derek blinked at the blunt statement, opened his mouth… then shut it.
He had to suspect. Between Stiles’ heart and his scent, he had to be leaking clues. But mercifully Derek didn’t say anything.
And he didn’t throw Stiles out.
“I got you something,” Stiles broke into the tense silence. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a brand-new copy of ShineGold. He handed it to Derek, who took the book with a puzzled frown.
“You got me a book?”
“I have a feeling you’ll like it.”
Derek thumbed through the pages. “Okay. Thanks?”
Stiles laughed. “You’d think no one ever gave you a present before.”
“It’s been a long time,” Derek conceded as he turned the book over in his hands. The last time someone gave Derek a gift was probably before the fire. That made Stiles want to hug the guy. Because he knew Derek liked physical affection. He knew Derek was a cuddler underneath that growly werewolf exterior.
But they weren’t there yet.
Maybe one day, though.
“I better get home,” Stiles said as he got up and shouldered his backpack.
Derek put ShineGold on the couch cushion beside him and stood to see Stiles out.
When he was standing outside Derek’s loft, Stiles turned and said in parting, “Thank you for trusting me.”
One corner of Derek’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. “Just don’t get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Stiles smiled. “I’ll see you later.”
***************
Stiles couldn’t sleep. He was too keyed up. He was high from his time at Derek’s. It had only been a conversation, granted, but Stiles was drunk on it. Had there been sweeping declarations of love? No. But Derek had gathered an (albeit small) army and thrown his own uncle out of town because he trusted Stiles. Because he wanted to keep Stiles safe. It probably didn’t hurt that Derek didn’t trust Peter as far as he could throw him in the first place, but still. He’d been putting up with the psycho for years, biding his time and keeping watch, but when Stiles said ‘enough’, Derek tossed him.
It was already different from the beginning, when Derek had sided with his uncle. Now push came to shove, and Derek picked Stiles.
It was their weird backwards relationship where they trusted each other with their lives, but wouldn’t say they were friends.
Stiles hoped that would change. He knew how good they could be.
On a whim, Stiles grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and texted:
Stiles: what are you doing?
He maybe kind of held his breath until the phone dinged with an incoming text.
Derek: reading
Stiles grinned.
Derek: why are you awake?
Stiles: can’t sleep
He tapped his finger against the side of the phone waiting for a response.
Derek: any reason?
He probably meant like a nogitsune or a kanima or homicidal hunters, but Stiles would just pretend it was more than that. He was going to act like Derek cared. It was late and he was going to be idealistic for a hot minute, god damnit.
Stiles: brain won’t stop talking
He imagined Derek’s chuckle.
Stiles debated a moment before sending his next text.
Stiles: we should go on a road trip sometime
Derek: you mean the pack?
Stiles: no
Stiles: you and me
Stiles chewed on his lip anxiously. Was that too much? Too soon? It probably was. Shit. He was going to blow it. He was going to send Derek running for the hills.
As the seconds crawled by and his phone rested inert in his hands, he felt that familiar tightening in his chest of his lungs threatening to seize up on him. He didn’t know what he’d do if he screwed this up. He’d had a good day today, and there was no denying it was because he’d seen hope of having the life he’d tasted. Not just having it for a few weeks, but for a lifetime.
He wasn’t sure what he’d do if that light at the end of the tunnel was ripped from him, if…
Derek: maybe
Stiles heaved out a sigh. It wasn’t exactly a marriage proposal, but it was Derek not dismissing out of hand the idea of him and Stiles hitting the road together. With Derek, Stiles would take what he could get. After all, this wasn’t the Derek that smiled against his skin. This wasn’t the Derek that pulled him close to nuzzle his neck, tickling Stiles with his stubble. Not yet. There was a lot of work left to do to tame that wolf.
But Stiles had an advantage. He knew it could be done. He’d seen it. Lived it. Breathed it. He’d tangled naked and happy with it.
Derek: go to sleep stiles
Stiles smiled and put his phone back on the nightstand. He turned over in bed and got comfortable, tugging up the nice blue covers and burrowing into his pillow with the magical sleep-inducing powers.
He honestly felt good. It was almost a strange sensation to him. When he’d woken up in his old life, as his old self, it had been a crushing disappointment. It felt like nothing but losses everywhere he looked. If future Derek’s accounts could be believed, this was the hardest time in Stiles’ life. And Stiles didn’t doubt that. The nogitsune had left him in ruins. No one knew how completely, because he pretended all the time. Most days, he felt more like the act than a person. He was a cheap veneer over wreckage.
But not today. Today, he actually felt good. And all because he’d held out his hand, and Derek didn’t bite him. Maybe there wasn’t as much ground to make up as he thought. Maybe Derek Hale wasn’t as wild as he seemed… or maybe he didn’t really want to be. Maybe they both wanted comfort and companionship, even now, but were too damaged to seek it. Maybe. Maybe.
Maybe Stiles could have that life he’d had but briefly. For keeps.
Before he drifted off, Stiles whispered into the darkness, like a schoolgirl with a crush, “I’m going to marry you someday, Derek Hale.”
It felt good to say it.
It would feel even better to make it happen.
END