Chapter Text
“You ever wonder what would’ve happened?” she asked him. He couldn’t see her face but, from the way she had curled in on herself, Derek guessed Jen probably knew what he would say. “Do you think about how things would be different? If you had stayed?”
“No,” Derek whispered in reply. “Not really.”
Liar.
Truth be told, he did. Every day.
There were times where Derek would be thrown three years back. He’d hear a song or see the back of a stranger’s head. He’d see a little girl at the market with a seemingly familiar tangle of hair and ache down to his bones. There had been a day, a few months back, when he had seen a little boy at the mall and had a meltdown. The boy- with a head of seemingly familiar sandy-brown curls- had been walking next to his father while speaking excitedly and bouncing around, as all seven year olds do. Derek hadn’t even lasted a full five minutes before he had given Jen some excuse and left the mall. If he had hidden in his car for a full half hour and broke down, chest racked with sobs and shuddering breaths- well, only he and the woman in the mini-van next to him knew.
He drew away from her, rubbing a hand over his face. Jen knew, as well as Derek, that he’d experience that familiar, heavy drop in his stomach all the time. She always did this in the quiet of the early morning, the sky still dark. He rolled over to glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand. Sure enough, the clock’s face showed a blinking 3:34 a.m. in bright red numbers. Derek sighed and got himself out of bed to put pants on. He might as well start his day now. There would be no sleep with Stiles on his mind.
3 Years Ago...
The flight back from LA had been a nightmare, but Derek barely noticed. He tuned out the crying baby and slept through the turbulence when they passed through the Bay. He was feeling a million times lighter than he had a week ago. He could breathe easier, knowing Stiles would be coming back. Coming home, he reminded himself.
Derek turned his phone on as Boyd drove him home from the airport. They exchanged a brief greeting before Boyd turned on the radio to the preset classic rock station with an easy turn of the knob. Derek scrolled through a few messages, startling to a stop when he found a text from Chris. For a second, he thought he’d ignore it. He didn’t want to spoil his good mood with whatever it was that Chris wanted. Derek sat still in the quiet of the cab for a few minutes. Finally, his curiosity getting the better of him, he dialed his voicemail.
Call me. Now.
The abruptness of the Chris’ message sent a chill down Derek’s spine. Derek immediately dialed his number.
“Hey,” Chris answered on the first ring. His tone was forcedly cheery, if not a bit manic in his efforts to sound composed. “I can’t speak long. My sister is visiting right now. You should probably just leave, don’t wait for me. I’m sorry I won’t be able to see you off.”
Derek froze. He felt the blood leave his face and his hands tremble. Chris hung up with a quick farewell. Derek continued to stare at his phone after the screen went black. Derek could feel the bile rising in his throat. He grabbed Boyd’s arm, jerking it until he pulled over on the side of the road. Derek barely had the time to throw open the door before he threw up. He fell to his knees and retched until he felt empty.
“What’s going on?” Boyd asked quietly, out of the truck and by Derek’s side in an instant. “Is Laura okay? Is anyone hurt?”
“Kate,” Derek managed to rasp. “Kate’s in town. Chris just told me. Fuck, she’s back.”
Boyd swore under his breath. Digging his phone out of his pocket, he dialed a number while Derek tried to control his breathing from his spot on the ground. The years of panic he had stifled seemed to overwhelm him at once. Years of nightmares and pain; he had spent half his life trying to block out memories of honey blonde hair, bright white teeth framed by dark red lipstick, and the smell of fire. It was like waking up from a nightmare, only to find out reality was worse.
“—don’t think that’s a good idea, Laura,” Boyd was arguing into the phone. “How’re we going to get in there without making it obvious?”
“Let me talk to her,” Derek cut into the conversation. He stood up slowly, spitting the last remnants of the acrid taste in his mouth.
Boyd handed over the phone immediately. They walked back to the truck and got in, Boyd turning over the keys in his hand instead of starting the engine.
“Derek? Sweetie, we can get your stuff. I know you want to avoid seeing her, so I can get a bag from your place ready,” Laura was using her mom voice. Derek wanted to cry.
“Laura,” he croaked. He didn’t even bother composing himself when his voice had long gone brittle and pained. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago. I—”
“Honey, I know. I know about you two. Trust me: having an Argent as an ex is nothing new to me,” she replied drily.
“No,” Derek desperately tried to speak before Laura could get anything else out. He needed to explain. “You don’t know everything. You can’t…Laura, it’s so bad.”
There was silence over the line. Boyd was looking at him, face creased with worry. Derek didn’t care if Boyd heard, as long as he could tell Laura. He needed to tell someone why hearing Kate’s name made his mouth taste like smoke.
“Derek,” Laura pleaded. She sounded frightened.
“She did it,” Derek whispered, although he knew it made no difference. It was still just as horrific. He could shout it or scream it into the phone: but all that came out was a broken, choked whisper, barely anything more than a rasp.
“Laura, she did it. She burned down the house. She fucking did it and she used me to do it. She waited until we were at the swim meet; she knew we’d be out of the house. She wanted us to know what…how it felt to lose everything. She left me a note. She told me it was my fault. It’s because of me everyone’s gone. Laura, I didn’t know. I didn’t know what to do.”
Laura was crying. He could hear the sobs over the line. Boyd sat in the driver’s seat, jaw tense. Derek wanted the earth to swallow him up; he wanted to disappear.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Laura whimpered. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
How was Derek supposed to explain away his silence? Explain how he had been sleeping with the person who murdered his family? Explain how he had made it entirely possible for her to slip into the house, undetected? Explain how he had shown her the extra key and way into the basement because that’s where they’d go to fool around? What reason could he give for being unable- afraid, ashamed, and traumatized- to bring what he knew to light? He was just as much at fault as Kate.
“It was my fault, too. I should’ve known. I should’ve said no,” Derek mumbled.
“Derek. You listen to me and you shut up: it is not your fault,” she spoke firmly through her quiet sobs. “You were a baby. You were sixteen years old. She took everything from you, but you didn’t deserve it. She did this. Not you. I don’t blame you, honey, I don’t.”
“But you need to tell the Sheriff,” Laura added after a moment, voice quiet and firm. “It’s time.”
Derek nodded. He knew Laura couldn’t see him, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Boyd took the phone from him, then, and started the car. They made their way to the Sheriff’s Department.
Now
Please come back. I want you here for this.
Derek lost count of how many times he’d read the letter. Engaged. We miss you. It’s time. The last line of the letter brought him back to a phone call from years ago. “It’s time,” Laura had pleaded with him then. He could hear her now.
Jen was bustling around in the kitchen, getting her coffee ready before her first class of the day. Her long brown hair tumbled loosely around her shoulders. Her thin fingers flitted around, measuring half & half and sugar. He hadn’t spoken to her about the letter; she knew he didn’t speak to anyone from back home except for his niece and her boyfriend. His own sister hadn’t spoken to him since the trial, two years ago.
They had been a united front in court; every court date they would, along with Chris and Boyd, sit there together. Derek didn’t know how to put into words how it felt to see Kate again; there were no words to describe the terror and relief. In her orange jumpsuit, Kate had sat straight next to her lawyer, defiantly staring ahead. It wasn’t until the sentence was read, after months of proceedings, that she had looked at Derek full in the face. Despite the guilty verdict, despite a courtroom full of people who hated her (including her own brother), despite the heinousness of her actions: she still smiled at him. Derek was rocked to his core. He and Laura had cried together that day, Laura’s hand squeezing tightly around his. Derek had felt far too heavy to appreciate the peace her sentence should have brought. So many wasted years. He could’ve brought peace to his family so much sooner, had he swallowed down his shame and fear.
Stiles still hadn’t been back by then. Derek had called him to let him know what was happening every so often, but Scott had always been the one on the other end. Stiles, admittedly, had been busy with his own mess. Hailey had relapsed. Hard. Derek could hardly stand thinking about it, but he refused to leave Scott without someone to talk to. The twins were still too young to fully understand what was happening, though he spoke with them as well. He missed them. He knew what Stiles was dealing with- at least, he thought he knew, anyway. It should’ve been easy to resent him, but Derek hurt too much to really blame the guy for trying to fix his family. Derek, if he was being honest, lost contact after he left. He still received texts from Scott and he still sent letters to the twins, along with presents on every holiday (even the small ones, because he still couldn’t say no to Erica). But Stiles had shut him out when he returned home to find Derek gone. Derek hated himself for it.
“Laura sent me a letter,” Derek blurted out.
Jen kept stirring her coffee. She turned her head slightly, waiting for him to continue. Derek wasn’t sure what needed to be said; he didn’t know how to word everything he was thinking.
“She’s engaged. She wants me to be there for the engagement party,” he continued. “And I think she just wants me to come home.”
Jen nodded absently as she picked up her mug and walked over to the table. Sitting down, she blew on her coffee and seemed to consider Derek for a while. After a silent few moments, she took a measured sip from her cup.
“What do you want?”
Derek knew. He shrugged and looked away. She knew, too.
“I think it’s time,” Derek replied, the words of Laura’s letter echoing in his head. “I think I’ve been running away long enough.”
Jen glanced at him and nodded. She took another sip.
“I can’t come with you,” she murmured, speaking into her cup. She didn’t look as sad as he thought she would be. She looked pensive, calculated. “But I think you knew that.”
“Yeah,” Derek answered the silent question in Jen’s conclusion: Are you going back for good?
“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Derek,” she said. She reached over and took his hand. She squeezed it briefly and then let go. She stood and left the kitchen, not glancing back once. Her registered the door shutting as she left for her morning class.
For three years, he had drifted around. The day he left, Boyd had given him the motorcycle he’d been fixing up. They didn’t talk about it, but Derek knew Boyd: he knew Derek was grateful. Derek had packed enough to help him get by and spent the next few months driving aimlessly, doing odd jobs in garages and bike shops when he stopped for more than a week at a time. Then, in a small town in Texas just outside Dallas, Derek had met Jen. They had met outside of a bookstore downtown, where she had stumbled into him and knocked him over. They’d been together on and off for the last two years or so; it was easy.
Things were effortless with Jen. An English Lit professor at SMU, she had been raised in Dallas all her life. She was a few years younger than him, although not by much, and a good Southern girl. Jen was beautiful, kind, and incredibly intelligent. They rarely fought or argued; there were no hurdles to jump over with their relationship. But then again, it was never something that was going to last. It went unsaid between them: an unspoken, agreed-upon contract. They’d known that going into this, whatever “this” was.
From the first time she had taken him to a university function (everyone had cooed at him and smiled at them, together; “Jen, he’s a good one. You better get a ring on that finger before someone snaps him right up from under ya!” “Look at those eyes and that jawline! You two will have the prettiest babies, for sure!” “Darlin’, Jen’s a good girl: y’all are just perfect for each other!”), he had known how much she could mean for him- had he been a different Derek in a different universe, maybe. But for all that potential: it was never meant to be.
Derek would never love Jen, not really. He liked their morning routines and the easy companionship she provided him. He liked sleeping next to a warm body at night. The sex was good; she fit well in his hands and against his body. He appreciated her silence when he spoke with Allison on the phone every Tuesday. She never asked for more than he gave; Derek never promised more than what he was capable of giving. It never felt permanent. Derek had just been waiting around until their expiration date.
His phone buzzed on the table, making him jump.
From: Jen
Leave your key under the mat. Fly safe.
Derek texted back a response, just a few words of gratitude. His phone buzzed almost immediately in reply.
From: Jen
Thank you, Derek. Take care of yourself; find happiness. Find peace.
Derek sighed out in relief before he called Laura.
“Hey,” he greeted. “I’m coming home.”
Derek knocked again, louder this time. He bounced from leg to leg in his nervousness. Finally, the door swung open. Allison smiled before jumping on him.
“Oh my God,” she squealed, “I can’t believe you’re really here. You’re back!”
Derek dropped his bags and hugged her tightly. Never leaving you again, he thought to himself. He had been there since her first steps, but he had missed her first day of high school. Her first date had come and gone, although he received a play-by-play from both Scott and Allison. He missed this: being wanted. He’d never leave her again.
“Hey, Ally,” he murmured into her hair. Allison had sprouted; she was just a few inches shorter than him now. Derek noticed as he hugged her, the muscularity of her arms and shoulders. He had missed a lot in his gap years. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, Bear,” she cooed.
“Hey, Pop,” Scott called out. He clapped Derek on the shoulder and Derek was surprised to find it actually hurt. The shaggy-haired boy he had met all those years ago was gone, leaving a full-blown teenager in his place. I’m turning into a Lifetime movie in the doorway. He moved inside, following Allison and Scott into the living room.
Truth be told, Derek felt good. Scott had never stopped calling him “Poppa” or “Pop,” despite the circumstances. There was no bad blood between them; Derek knew he’d have to make things up to the twins, but Scott understood. There was no way Derek could’ve stayed in Beacon Hills and healed. He had needed to leave: needed to work through the damage, himself. Beacon Hills couldn’t have given Derek the space he had needed to grow out of the roots that had long held him down. But now, listening to his niece and the boy he called his son chatter about classes and summer jobs: he felt whole again. Derek had healed himself and was well on his way to making everything right.
“How long are you back?” Scott asked carefully. Derek knew what he meant.
“I’m back,” he replied. “I’m home.”
Scott smiled and hugged him tightly, clapping him on the back. Derek wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders and chuckled. Scott may be a strapping young man, but he still hugged like a twelve year old.
“Der,” Laura spoke softly.
Derek released Scott from the bear hug and faced his sister. Her once long, black hair was shorter now, framing the soft angles of her face. Her big brown eyes had more lines at the corners, from stress or the burden of the last few years- Derek didn’t know. She looked tired, but happy. That was all Derek could hope for, really.
“Laura,” he answered. “Congratulations.”
Laura laughed through a sob before she, too, ran towards him. He scooped her up and hugged her tightly, spinning her around. The silence between them had been uncomfortable, almost stifling. There had been so many times where he had wanted to speak to her. He had almost asked Allison to pass the phone, but he feared the possibility of Laura’s rejection. Derek had a lot of things to make up to a lot of people and he would start with his sister.
“I’m so sorry,” Derek said as he pulled back from Laura. “I just couldn’t be here. I couldn’t—”
“I know, I know,” Laura interrupted, still sniffling through tears. “I don’t blame you. Trust me, I get it. Just don’t leave again.”
In that moment, she sounded so young; she didn’t sound like the overbearing, loud-mouthed, overly affectionate older sister he was familiarized with in his head. Derek felt shame wash through him. He had never meant to be away this long. But once he’d started running, it’d been hard to stop. Derek nodded, more a jerky movement of his head than a real nod, and hugged her again. The four of them spent the next few hours catching up and talking about the wedding. Later, when Boyd came home from the garage, they had dinner at the Inn. Derek ordered the lasagna, surprised to find Scott helping Laura in the kitchen. They ate together, after Laura passed on kitchen duties to a few new college students she’d hired. It was everything Derek needed; it was family. Boyd sent him a grateful glance as he threw an arm around Laura.
“You took care of her when I couldn’t,” Derek said by way of thanks. “I’ll always be grateful to you.”
“You’d done enough taking care of everyone. It was time to take care of you,” Boyd said in response. “You have to put yourself first, sometimes.”
Derek could think of one person who would disagree. Derek had been avoiding the topic of c Stiles altogether, if he could bring himself to be honest. Like clockwork, Derek sent letters to the twins, Scott, and Stiles. The twins never failed to write him back and sometimes call him, but always on Scott’s phone. He didn’t expect anything more. He knew he had let Stiles down. After Stiles had stopped calling him, Derek had stopped trying. He thought maybe distance would work towards their benefit. But then, after the trial was over, he had left without a word to anyone except Frank and Boyd. Scott had forgiven him. But Stiles never spoke to him again. Derek hadn’t been there when Stiles came back from LA. No letter or phone call. Derek had been somewhere in New Mexico when Scott had called to tell him they’d moved back. News of Kate and the trial had spread throughout Beacon Hills, so Stiles must have known what the outcome had been. But he had never called. Derek thought about picking up the phone and dialing the long-since memorized number. But he always stopped short, not quite able to follow through.
Derek, lost in his head, came back to the table. He looked at the people around him and took a moment to appreciate the heady, warm feeling growing in his chest. Being needed. Being wanted. Being loved, his mind supplied. He remembered Jen’s text from days before. Find peace. It wasn’t as shocking a discovery to realize he had never needed to look for it, he just needed to let himself accept it.
“Are you gonna go see him?” Erica asked. A tangible, heavy tension had filled the house since Scott had come home the previous night. Derek was back and, from what they were told, was here to stay. He had been moving back into his old house all morning. Erica had immediately wanted to go over, excited to see her Poppa. Isaac shared the sentiment, although Stiles could tell he was more anxious about Derek’s arrival. Typical, he thought.
Stiles tensed in his seat at his desk. He continued typing, pretending not to hear her. Maybe, she’d go away. He should know better by now. Erica was a stubborn pain in the ass when something piqued her interest, relentless in her efforts to get what she wanted. Basically, she was exactly like her father. Damn genetics.
“Dad,” Erica groaned. “Are we going to go? Or are Izzy and I catching a ride with Scott?”
“Since when are you going over?” Stiles asked, avoiding answering his daughter’s questions.
“Since I heard he was back,” Erica fired back. Shit, she wasn’t going to drop this any time soon. “Are you coming?”
Stiles considered it, for a moment. He thought of seeing Derek again, after years of wondering. He thought of how he would look, and he thought about whether or not Derek would want to see him. Granted, the man had only been back for a few hours- but Stiles had spent every one of those hours torturing himself.
He remembered how caught up in Hailey’s mess he’d been; after a while, he had shut Derek out. Months of phone calls and Skyping had gone out the window when he had totally dropped the ball. Scott had tried, valiantly, to be the middleman for a few months during the trial. But Stiles had his hands full with Hailey. It was like she had been a black hole: drawing everything into the dark void inside her. After a year of trying, Stiles gave up. Exhausted and sick, he had given up trying to salvage the irreparable: he had packed up and moved home. He couldn’t bring himself to care how Hailey coped. Lydia accepted this. She and Jackson had helped him pack up the Jeep, this time. If she hadn’t have been seven months pregnant at the time, she would have gone down to move him in. Stiles remembers leaving Hailey in the apartment the day he moved. Her once bright blue eyes, now glazed over and bloodshot, didn’t even register his face. He remembers how she had sat listlessly as he had said his goodbyes. He didn’t want the twins to have their last memories of her like this, so he had packed them up while they were asleep. Scott had flat out refused to say goodbye.
Stiles remembers what it had been like to come back to Beacon Hills, only to find out Derek was gone. He remembers driving to Derek’s house, only to find it mostly empty: doors locked, windows shuttered, and boxes out front on the porch. Then he had found out about the trial. All of it. His father had called him down to the station, voice somber and carefully void of sounding too careful. Stiles remembers how hard he cried that night, sobbing into his arms and screaming into his pillow. Again, he had let Derek down in his need to cater to Hailey. He had put her first, again, instead of the people who mattered. And he paid dearly for it. The only thing stopping him now from running all the way to Derek’s was his own cowardice.
“Daddy,” Erica called. He snapped out of his reverie, brought back to his office and the blue screen of his laptop. “Daddy, we should go.”
Stiles nodded and closed his Macbook shut. Not for the first time, his daughter was right.
Derek dropped the last box out of the storage container into the garage. Six hours later, it was finally empty. Laura handed him a beer in celebration.
“You think he’ll show?” Laura asked, all pervious attempts at shyness and caution gone.
There’s the Laura I know.
“Who?” Derek asked. “Stiles?”
Laura rolled her eyes and took a long swig of beer. Boyd came and sat down next to her, taking her beer and downing half the bottle in two swigs. She swatted at him and reclaimed it.
“No, the fucking mayor. Of course, I mean Stiles, you moron,” she replied. Well, he’d deserved that.
“I don’t know,” Derek responded quietly. He didn’t. He hoped, maybe, but he didn’t know for certain.
“Speak of the devil,” Boyd intoned from his seat in between Laura’s legs. He looked way too comfortable for the impeding situation at hand.
“Oh, shit,” Laura added helpfully.
Derek sat up, knocking over the beer at his feet in his haste. He didn’t stop to pick it up. He just stared at the parked blue Jeep in his driveway as it puddled around his left shoe. Stiles wore a similar expression inside the Jeep, eyes saucer-wide and mouth slightly agape in a way only Stiles could really pull off. Derek wanted to laugh at how much he’d missed that stupid face. Stiles’ hair was longer now, coming up in a little flick above his forehead. His face a little tanner and missing the lavender pools under his eyes from stress and days without sleep. His face was filled out again and Derek noticed his favorite ruddy flush pinking Stiles’ cheeks and neck. He looked healthier, older. He looked beautiful. But, then again, he had never been anything but.
Derek’s legs seemed rooted to the spot, even though he wanted nothing more than to run and throw the driver’s side door open. He wanted to kiss Stiles until he couldn’t take a breath without tasting him. He wanted so many things, but he found he could only stand in a puddle of spilled beer and stare. Stiles seemed to make up his mind as he climbed down and pulled Erica and Isaac out with him. Erica waited a polite three seconds before she took off and catapulted herself into Derek’s legs.
“You’re so dumb for leaving without us!” she yelled. Her voice was muffled as she continued to berate Derek while crushing her face into the material of his pants. Derek sunk down to his knees, gathering her into his arms. She fought him, slapping and pushing- much like when he had come to LA to see her and Isaac. Derek didn’t fight it this time. He just slumped over her as he waited for her to calm down.
“You’re such a poopface. I hate you. You made Daddy so sad and you made Isaac cry,” she continued. “And you sent us presents and the dinosaur bone necklace is still my favorite. And you still smell like my Poppa. And I love you and I missed you so much.”
Finally, Erica sunk into his chest. She didn’t cry this time, but she still shook with her dwindling anger. Derek nuzzled into her hair and kissed her on the forehead.
“I missed you too, bug,” he whispered into her hair. “My strong little warrior girl.”
Derek looked up to seek out Isaac. He needed to get to work on his list of apologies.
“Derek,” Boyd called. He was brushing himself off and helping Laura up. “We’re gonna start unpacking inside. Give us a shout if you need anything.”
Derek nodded and sank fully onto the ground and he sat with Erica sprawled in his lap. He kissed her temple again and beckoned Isaac over with his free hand. Isaac walked towards him, slowly and cautiously. Derek offered a hand when Isaac came near enough to touch. Isaac took his hand and sat down beside him. He seemed content enough to rest his head against Derek’s shoulder, smiling softly as Derek pushed a few stray curls away from his face. Isaac squeezed his hand and looked at his sister. She nodded after a while, bottom lip trembling. Isaac climbed into Derek’s lap then, Erica’s permission to forgive Derek granted. Derek picked them up and walked over to Stiles. He looked him in the face as he spoke, addressing all three of them.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t wait,” Derek started shakily. “I needed to go, but I should’ve waited for you. I should’ve told you. I should’ve done a lot of things differently. I want you guys to know that I missed you every second. I’m so sorry.”
Stiles choked on a laugh and covered his face with his hands. He let out a frustrated yelp and shook his head.
“You’re…ugh,” he coughed on a sob. “I was coming over here to apologize and you beat me to it. Don’t you ever get tired of playing the good guy?”
Derek dropped the twins to the ground, although Erica refused to separate herself from where she was trying to fuse herself into Derek’s right leg. Isaac seemed content to hold Derek’s hand and rest his head against Derek’s side. He was taller now, so he came up to Derek’s hip. Derek rubbed the back of his head as he considered Stiles’ words. Apologize? For what? I’m the one who left this time, he thought. I was so angry when Stiles left. And then I turn around and do the same. I’m the hypocrite, here.
“What—“
“I let you down. Again,” Stiles chuckled harshly. The sound was ugly and too acerbic to match his sentiment. “I put Hailey in front of everyone. Again. I had a plan, you know? I was going to move back. I wanted a life with you, Derek. My kids and me and you. That was what I wanted. And then I let my martyr complex ruin everything. I pushed you out and you needed me. I know about the trial. Jesus, Derek. How could I not even be there? She…I can’t, I men- I was so selfish. Derek- how can you even look at me? I pushed you away and then you left. And it’s my fault. Again.”
Derek gaped at Stiles. How long were they going to do this to each other? Push and pull. Leave, only to come back again. Derek didn’t care whose fault it was anymore. He didn’t care where they ranked on the scale of blame. He surged forward, dragging the twins with him as he went. He reached for Stiles and kissed him hard on the mouth. Just like that first kiss all those years ago, their teeth clacked together and they bit at each other’s lips. Derek pulled away after a few minutes. Stiles looked at him with such a desperate, painful longing- it made Derek burn, right down to his core.
That ache; it was why Derek knew Jen hadn’t been it for him. It was what kept him from fully moving into her small house by the university’s campus. It was what kept him up at night- numb and cold, despite the warmth from a sleeping body of the pretty woman lying next to him. That beautiful, wonderful ache inside of his bones was the reason he could never walk away from Stiles. Not really. Not for good.
Sitting down in the Jeep, Stiles couldn’t stop shaking. It was harder, now, without the twins or Scott as a buffer. Scott had come to the house a few days later, with Allison in tow and offered to take the twins so he and Derek could talk. After prying Erica from Derek, he had driven Derek into the preserve for a little privacy. Stiles was starting to miss having Erica and Isaac around; without them, he felt like he was drowning in the nervous tension and in his own anxiety. Jesus, he was 29 years old. He couldn’t believe he couldn’t have an adult conversation without his kids as an emotional safety net. C’mon, Stiles. Let’s try that whole “emotional maturity” thing we’ve been hearing so much about. Derek reached over and took his hand, waiting for him to speak.
“Derek,” Stiles didn’t have flashcards or a prepared speech, but he could start with honesty. “We have to stop.”
Derek flinched, mouth turning down at the corners as he grimaced. His grip around Stiles’ hand loosened and he tried to shoulder his way back to his side of the Jeep. Stiles immediately regretted his word choice. That’s not what he’d meant; he was messing this up, horribly. He took Derek’s hand again and squeezed it.
“I mean- we have to stop tiptoeing around this. We can’t half-ass anything this time, if there’s going to be a this time.”
“Do you want…what do you want? Do you want a this time?” Derek asked warily.
“I do. Derek, you have to know that I do. After everything? You have to know that I’ll always want you,” Stiles replied earnestly.
This was his chance to meet Derek halfway. He remembers Derek talking to him about that; he remembers a talk, some ways back, about that. Stiles knew he had to try. He couldn’t let Derek do all the legwork anymore. It was his turn to put himself out there
“I’ve been thinking…maybe I don’t think I care anymore about who left who, and for what reasons,” Stiles admitted. “I want you. You told me once I needed to meet you halfway? You remember that? Well, this is me meeting you halfway: I want you.”
He climbed out of his seat and into Derek’s lap on the passenger side. Personal space be damned, he needed to have Derek as close as possible. Once he was situated in Derek’s lap, he twined their fingers together, leaving one hand free to gesticulate as he spoke. He knew himself well enough to accept he needed at least one hand to speak.
“I don’t want to spend any more time being without you, wondering about what could’ve been or what could be. I don’t care about whose fault certain things were, granted most things have been my fault. Don’t fight me on this. I have a point to make,” Stiles warned, stabbing a finger into Derek’s chest.
“It’s just—I’m done looking,” his finger slipped won until his hand was placed against Derek’s warm chest. “There is nothing out there for me and for my family. And I’m done running away from what I want and need. I don’t need you, anymore, Derek. We’ve both grown enough and healed on our own. And I’m so proud of us. But, what I do need is for my family to be whole again. That’s impossible without you. I know what I want: and that’s you, next to me, always. That’s Isaac, Erica, and Scott in a house with us. I want you to be there for Scott’s graduation. I want you helping me with the twins because Erica’s a little shit and Isaac is just such a brilliant kid- and they’re only 8. Derek, I want to wake up in the morning and feel you drooling on my pillow. I want to fight with you and then have awesome makeup sex. I want us and everything that entails. Derek, there’s just no place for me to call home that doesn’t have you in it.”
Derek grinned softly, staring at where his fingers were intertwined with Stiles’. Stiles bit his lip as he waited for Derek to respond. Derek was really milking this for all that it was worth, wasn’t he? Then he shifted, bringing Stiles further down into his lap. Derek leaned in until their mouths were touching, just brushing with their breaths. Not quite a kiss, but a promise of one.
“I want all that, too,” Derek whispered against Stiles’ lips. “I need that, too.”
Stiles may or may not have whimpered as he laughed; he may or may not have lunged at Derek’s mouth, keening and whispering nonsense into heated kisses. There was a possibility that he may have cried as Derek laid him down in the backseat, mouthing at every inch of Stiles’ skin he could reach. Stiles can’t really remember (he’ll say) whether or not he came five minutes after Derek took him into his mouth; he can’t quite put together (not really, anyway) if he came again when Derek pushed into him, full and hot and perfect. Derek may have made love to him, half hanging out of the Jeep with his pants around his ankles.
He’ll claim he can’t be certain; that he’ll just have to rely on Derek’s memory for those moments. But, maybe, he’ll look back on that day, years from now, and remember. Hushed moans and whispered promises. Wet, hot mouths moving together and apart. Big, strong hands around his hips, moving him up and down as he gasped and sobbed. Teeth biting at the curve of his throat and rough fingers running through the trail of hair below his belly. Maybe he will replay the sound of Derek panting his name in the quiet of the surrounding woods.
Maybe Stiles will roll over to trace the tattoo on Derek’s back and think about how he doesn’t have to cling to memories anymore: he has forever in bed, snoring loudly in the stillness of an early grey morning. There’s a good chance Stiles will scoot closer and wrap his arms and a leg around and over Derek, choosing to be the big spoon because Derek likes the way it makes him feel safe. There’s an even stronger chance that Stiles will whisper something outrageously crude into Derek’s ear, knowing he’ll hear him because he’s a light sleeper. Knowing it will annoy Derek when they’ve, “just had sex like four hours ago, Stiles. Let me sleep, goddamnit.” There’s also certainty that Derek will roll his eyes and grind into Stiles’ morning wood, anyway.
Stiles will, almost assuredly, forget about that day in the woods in favor of the day that lies before him; the life that lies before him, with Derek at his side. But maybe he’ll never let himself forget: he is loved.
Fiercely. Fully. Always.