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Stiles is at college and it's not... the pack is jittery and the house doesn't feel right and it's only been a week.
Jackson and Lydia have left as well, and the pack misses them, of course they do, but it's not the same. Stiles was... he held the pack together in the rough first months and he cared for them and helped them, made them happy.
He taught Derek to be happy again.
Isaac is the worst.
Scott and Allison have gone to the local college, and Erica and Boyd are both working just outside of town, while Isaac interns for Deaton, and he's the only one still at home now, there everyday when the others are only there every other day.
He's quiet, and shy, like he was before Stiles really became pack and Derek has to coax him into talking about his internship, but when he does Isaac beams and tells him everything while Derek cooks (one of Stiles' recipes), and later when Derek and Stiles talk on the phone, Stiles listens to everything and says “I'm so proud of him.” when Derek finishes and they both ignore how they both sound like parents, but it's nice. Warm.
-
“-So anyway, in my mythology class, we're studying Norse Gods and we had to watch Thor and The Avengers, and it was awesome, no seriously, Derek I can hear you laughing shut up! We have to write a thesis on the relations between film Loki and Thor and Norse Mythology Loki and Thor, and I've already got three thousand words, and my room-mate hasn't even started-”
Derek huffs a laugh and tunes out the words, he doesn't need them, just needs to hear the sound of Stiles' voice, happy and warm and safe.
It's Thursday night, and Stiles has been away for two months. It's gotten easier, kind of. The house still doesn't feel right (Derek's not sure it will until Stiles is back home), but they have a schedule (Stiles' words), and it makes things better, Derek can lose himself to the sound of Stiles' voice as he rambles about his classes, and Derek talks about the pack and how he's kind of, maybe, helping out the Sheriff a little bit, can listen to the full belly laughs Stiles gives and his soft snores when he falls asleep on the phone.
On Wednesday the rest of the pack are home, Scott brings his laptop and Stiles, Jackson and Lydia all skype call, and sometimes they watch films together. It had been weird, awkward at first, the conversations had been quiet and stilted, until Stiles' “I can almost feel the awkward, it's weird. Oh! It's almost like that moment in-” and the collective “Stiles shut up!” and they'd laughed, even Derek, and it had been like before, expect less physical, but it's, yeah, it's good.
They're making it work.
Derek flicks his ears to the babble that's slowed, but keeps the warmth of pack and home and films deep in his belly and tries to ignore the ache.
He can almost feel his eyes bleed to red.
“-stripper, because I think I'd be good at it, you know? There's this place in town and, oh hey sourwolf! You can stop growling now, I was joking, but you weren't even listening so... I'll keep my amazing moves for your eyes only, even if the world will be sorely missing out.”
Derek doesn't realise he's growling when he realises what Stiles is saying, when he tunes back in to the words, but he can't, it's, Stiles is his anchor, his mate and the wolf hates the thought of somebody else seeing Stiles like that, the thought of the smell of other men, women, aroused because they've seen Stiles' body, the wolf wants to howl, and when he speaks if rough and low,
“If anybody else sees you like that, how you are only for me, I'll rip their throats out, with my teeth, and then make sure you know who you belong too.”
He can hear Stiles' heartbeat quicken but when he speaks his voice his steady,
“Always with the bodily harm, although I'm kind of liking the sound of the second part, possessive sourwolf!”
“Stiles.” He can't, can't, wants to run now and howl and hold Stiles and-
“It's only for you.”
“God, it's, you can't-.”
“I'm sorry...I miss you,”
It's like everything explodes, and Derek's exhale is loud to his own ears, because this is what's important, and Derek misses him, so much, he can't remember missing anyone like this apart from his family, but that's a different kind of it and-
“Yeah, I-me too.” You don't know how much Stiles.
“I do, I know Derek.”
Oh.
-
Isaac starts having nightmares a week before the anniversary of his fathers death.
He's had them before, but the pack had been there.
Stiles had been there.
“Derek?” Isaac's whispering, at the door to Derek and Stiles' room, he's not scared, Derek's said it's fine when it'd happened before and he'd wanted to be near his alpha's and feel pack, but Isaac's meant to have stopped, it's meant to get better, it's-
“Isaac, what's wrong?” Derek's staring at him from the bed, he's worried and Isaac can only tell because he's spent so long around him, but it's there and he steps further into the room.
“Nightmare, it's... my dad, it's been nearly two years.”
Derek doesn't say anything, never has been good with words, but he pats the space next to him and Isaac doesn't hesitate to climb onto the bed and place his head in his lap, Derek's leaning against the headboard and his hands running through Isaac's hair when he spots the phone.
“Were you going to call Stiles?”
“Huh?” Derek's eyes follow Isaac's to the phone resting my his elbow. “Oh, no, he just called to check in, he's got a load of assignments to finish.”
“Oh.” There's something off about Derek's voice but he's not... Isaac's not jealous, but he's kind of disappointed, wishes he got to talk to Stiles, just to him and not with the pack.
“Isaac?” The hand in is hair has paused and he makes a low whine until it resumes.
“I miss him.”
“I know.”
And yeah, Derek would, Derek knows, and Isaac can, Isaac falls asleep curled around Derek, it's not the same, but it's good, and manages to get what seems like minutes of sleep before he's jolting awake, a whimper dying in his breath, Derek's right there, rubbing awkward circles between his shoulder blades, and it's calming but it's not enough, he can't breathe, can just see his fathers dead eyes staring at him.
“Isaac? Hey, come on, calm down, deep breaths, it's alright, you're safe, that's it-”
And that's Stiles, that's-
Isaac finds himself calming, taking deep breaths and matching it to the low thrum of Stiles' that he can hear through the phone speakers.
Stiles is still talking when Isaac can breathe properly, and Derek is making low grumbling noises deep in his chest.
“My two favourite puppies,” Stiles is saying, “Shut up Derek, I know you don't really mind it when I call you a puppy, but don't tell Scott that... or Erica, actually don't tell anyone that, they'll make me into a werewolf chew toy.” Stiles is laughing and it's such a good sound, even when it's rough and breathy that Isaac can't help but laugh as well and when he turns his head he can see Derek's small smile.
“You okay now Isaac?”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry for disturbing you.”
“Hey! None of that, I'm always here, there's enough of Stiles to go around.” Stiles' voice is light, but his heartbeat hitches. “Night, Isaac!”
Isaac has just enough time to reply before his eyes are shutting and his chest starts to slow it's rise and fall with sleep, he can still hear the low whispers and mumbles of Derek's voice as he talks to Stiles, manages to catch the end of the conversation before he gives over to sleep again, wonders what it means.
“It's going to be okay, Stiles.”
-
“What would you do if you had me there?”
The house is quiet, and Stiles' voice seems loud over the speaker but it's not. It hasn't been loud for nearly a week and Derek aches with not being able to make it better, he'd be in the car and on the highway to Stiles' college if he would let him, but he “Wants to stick it out, I've only been here just over a month, and yeah it sucks right now and I miss the pack and my dad, you, but I need to- I'll be home in a few weeks for Christmas, I can make it just, just talk to me. Please.”
Derek wishes he was better with words, wishes he could say the right thing, soothe Stiles, he can't, but Stiles had sounded almost needy and insecure and Derek just wants him in every way he's aloud so,
“I wish you were here, I'd make you know how much I want you, and when you get back I'll show you.” Derek's almost comfortable talking like this, knows how to use his words like this, and he doesn't want to think of why he knows, (Kate), because it's not relevant and this is different, good, it's Stiles.
“What would you do if you had me there?”
“I'd lay you on the bed and kiss you, slowly and wet until your lips are red and you're out of breath while I run my palms across your hips-” Stiles' breath stutters and he gasps, Derek can hear the whisper of cloth moving, “I'd raise your shirt up your chest, and kiss along your collarbones the way you like it. Mark you.”
He has to pause and move onto the bed, didn't expect it to effect him this much, but it's been so long and he can hear Stiles moving and gasping and the slick slide of his tongue across his lips.
“Raise your top, just like I said.”
“Derek,” Stiles' voice is low and raspy, it's dark and curls around Derek and-
“I want you to do what I say Stiles, can you do that for me? Can you-”
“Yes, yes, please,”
“Wet your palm and slide it across your neck,” Derek wants, he wants, “Keep going down until you reach your nipples, I want you to tug them until they're nice and red, hard like when I bite them, let me hear you.”
Stiles is almost incoherent already, a slow babble slipping past his lips the way it always does when Derek talks like this, he's gasping and there's small moans bubbling in his throat, Derek wants to see and touch, feel.
“Are they hard?” He can't wait, can't, can't, Stiles makes a humming noise and Derek just, “Good boy, keep running your palm down your chest until you reach your jeans, don't undo them, just rub your fingers across the top.” His voice is raw, and he's got his hand pressed down on his crotch, rough pressure, grounding him keeping him- Stiles moans and Derek can't keep in the sound he makes.
“Open them, push them down until they're wrapped around your thighs, keep them there.” Derek hears the clatter of the phone being placed down, and then the sound of a zip and fabric.
“Derek please, are, are you touching yourself? I miss your hands, and your mouth and, and,” Stiles voice is wet, it's still low and he's still turned on, but it gives Derek pause, makes him, he can, slower, just.
“I know, I know, it's okay. You can touch yourself, keep it slow, just let me hear you.”
There's a flick of a cap, and then wet, slick sound and Stiles gasping and moaning in his ears, little hitching breaths.
Derek's got his hand wrapped around his cock, strong slow tugs and thumbing the head, using pre-come to ease and dipping into the slit, and he's talking, mumbling things that he can't be sure of, but Stiles is replying, and the sounds are faster and slicker.
“So good, and when you're here, when you're home we'll do this all day, I'll take my time, and you'll come so hard, it'll feel so good, make you mine again, make sure everyone knows it, and-”
“Yes yes, everything, just want it, want your hands on me, and your cock and, please, i'm gonna, come, can I? Please, Derek.” Derek looses it.
Stiles is whining, and slick and his mouth is letting out wet air. Derek can imagine it, how his lips are swollen red from biting, wet, and his nipples hard, throbbing, his cock curving towards his belly and the tip glistening, how his long fingers wrap around it and thumb the slit, the curve of his spine as he tries not to come, tries to make it last longer, longer until Derek says-
“Yes, yes, come.”
The line goes silent, there's static in Derek's ears until there's not, it's a rush and wet and moaning, Stiles is sobbing and-
“Derek please, wanna hear you come,”
Derek's gone, he can hear Stiles panting, and he's, he's, his muscles tense and then he's coming, long pulses onto his chest and his shirt.
“Stiles.” There's a hum, it's happy and sated, warm, “Stiles.”
“Mm, that was, Derek, we need to do that again.” His voice is quiet, always is after sex, almost shy, and Derek grunts in reply, because he's dead to the world, only thing that would make this better, if Stiles was next to him, curling into him-
“I Love you.” and yeah, it's not, that's not lust ridden words, that's everything, it's truth and Stiles and home.
It's late night phone calls and pack calls and smiles and laughter,
Not Kate, or hunters or fire,
Yeah, Derek can, he can-
“Love you too, yeah.”