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Derek showed up at 8:05, corduroys and a dress shirt with an open collar. I didn’t know where he kept his stuff but three dates in two weeks and never once the same outfit. If I were a girl it would be flattering. I mean seriously, he lived in a burned out hulk. Where the F—k did he keep a wardrobe?
He had done this to me the first time too. I learned a valuable lesson that night. Business casual meets high school swag, the hostess and waiter did not blink. They just assumed I was a younger brother, or cousin, or something and they flirted with Derek like he was some sort of a scruffy leather sex god.
He was a gentleman about it, appearing flattered, but refraining from flirting back. There was no point in being mad. He was a grown man and I was a kid, lesson learned. Date two: I left my plaid shirt behind. I’m a jeans and T-shirt guy, but they were fitted black jeans and it was a silk T-shirt. If the waiter didn’t flirt, he was extra attentive to our table. And Derek, a hundred little touches, showing me details of the menu, pointing out replicated Master’s paintings on the walls. He was amused and amusing.
“This is better don’t you think?”
“You mean Italian?” I should know better, fencing with Derek when he is trying to be nice. His eyes practically threw sparks.
“Okay, I guess being a smart-ass is not consistent with dating a grown-up.” His face got a funny look.
“I don’t think of myself as a paedophile. And it’s not in your interest to make me look like one.”
Well that was clear. Problem was, even at $50 a plate, it looked like he was slumming. He attracted attention, not all of it good. I wasn’t under age anymore, but it was a small town, and people were going to talk. Were they going to say he was a good influence on me, or were they going wonder what I saw in a creeper like him?
It required some mental juggling. “If you didn’t heal up so pretty, they might credit me with some sense.”
He was trying to scowl, but opted for a different tactic. “As if, I let you see much of my face at all.”
“Oh ho! Low blow. Literally. But not low enough…” My eyebrows wriggled. The smile made it to his eyes.
“You know how I get around the full moon. How do you think I feel about twins?” He had timed it right so I blew water out of my nose. Not fair, I was the prankster and master of slapstick humour.
“I’m not sure I can stand the competition Mr Hale.” I usually score off Derek easily. I pulled out the ‘respected elder’ card cause he was trouncing me.
His answer nailed me cold. “Then don’t compete against me, compete with me.” It was that simple. Really, Derek wasn’t trying to make me his mate. He was giving me the opportunity.
“Good thing I have all that sports training.” Derek cocked his head curiously. “Why is that?”
“Cause somebody should know how to set up practice drills.” I ducked the first breadstick, the second clipped a brow piercing and that stung a little. He didn’t seem too sympathetic. We had that whole corner to ourselves so no one was really watching. In the back seat of his mustang we did some drilling but I wouldn’t call it practice.
So fourth date 8:15 Derek shows up on our porch and my dad answers the door. I didn’t even know he was home. In fact, he should not have been home on a Friday night.
“Hello Derek. Would you come in please.” It’s a cop thing, turning a question into an order.
Then Derek was in our living room and my dad closed the front door. It’s just a standard pine panel job but the frame shook and the latch snapped with finality. I had ten seconds to think about changing into regular clothes and playing it off.
“You went to a lot of trouble Stiles. Quit lurking on the stairs and show us what you got.” Also, not a question.
Fuck me. My dad did this sort of thing all day, every day, it was his job. He had never done it with me. His head craned around the living room door. “Get down here. I swear the shotgun is still in the cabinet”
Ah fuck me running. My dad was making jokes about shotguns with my boyfriend in the room. Derek was sitting nervous and attentive on the couch when I slinked in. I say slinked because I should have told dad I was dating someone seriously. I hadn’t and that meant I was somehow ashamed. Caught, I was having a hard time un-tucking my tail.
“I don’t need my shotgun, do I Stiles? He hasn’t gotten you in trouble, has he?” Absolutely I did not want to talk about my sex life with my dad. Even in a locked cabinet, that shotgun was there.
“I don’t know dad. Maybe you can kill me now and save these jokes for the funeral?” See the thing about my humour, it’s not original.
“Oh my! Eyeliner and everything.” Dad whistled in mock admiration. My hair was spiked and I was wearing a white shirt with puffy poet sleeves and black leather pants that hugged my ass in sheer desperation.
Derek’s eyes widened when he saw what I had got up to. I could almost hear his heartbeat gain speed. As did mine when I saw he was wearing a leather corset over midnight blue silk, boots laced halfway up his lean calves. He had teased his black hair into ringlets. Sex on a stick!
“Ahem…” The cough was to remind us we were not alone.
“I guess you’re not going into town like that?” And that was a question. Behind the kohl Derek’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “No sir, we’re going into the City. Stiles wanted to try one of the Goth clubs.”
My mental wheels spun a moment for traction. Derek is cool under pressure but he was also archaic about some things. Dating me behind my dad’s back; apparently was one of them.
“You mean you haven’t told him where we’re going?” It was kind of futile trying to play it off but they had scared me half to death. I have no ‘dignity’ dignity is a waste of time but I do have some pride. They laughed at me. Assholes…
“Yeah… Ah a club? You know he is not old enough to drink. Right?”
My dad the worry wart. Okay in fairness he has caught me drinking but he hasn’t caught me in a long time. Now that could be because I am better at not getting caught, or it could be that I learned Stilinsky men are no match for the wiles of Demon Rum, but I am not telling my dad that.
My dad’s a cop, he goes after bad guys. My best friend and the man I’m dating are werewolves, they fight Hell Spawn. Every time either of us leaves the house there is a chance we won’t come back. There is not a lot I am willing to do about that. But the last thing my dad hears out of my mouth isn’t going to be, I think he’s a drunk.
So if he needs to lecture me or lecture Derek about the hazards of drinking, that’s fine.
“Absolutely Mr Stilinsky. He is not old enough.” Derek actually gave me a stern look. Totally unjustified, well mostly unjustified. Okay so maybe they had a point.
“We are going to the Ark.” My dad’s eyebrows went up. I think mine crawled into my hair.
Goth Club yes it is. Like the best Goth club on the planet. It’s inside an actual cathedral, stained glass windows and everything. Somehow they managed to do everything right. Keeping drugs and violence out while giving the kids a great place to dance with awesome music. It laid the drinking ghost to rest. They did not serve and would turn you away if you had been drinking before you got there.
“That means you won’t be drinking either?” Smooth dad, in fairness he has had to deal with some grisly accidents and most involved alcohol.
Derek was being so insufferably polite I felt like screaming. “No sir I will not be drinking either and we’ll be back before last call.” Meaning we would be off the road before it was taken over by drunks.
Oh my freaking god… my father actually patted Derek Hale on the back. “Don’t rush it Derek, I want my boy back in one piece.”
“Enough! Freaking Don Corleone or what.” I gave my dad a kiss on the cheek, and willed Derek to get his oh so fine ass in the car.
Dad blushed and Derek actually moved to the front door. Managing things, it was a habit with me not always a good one. Going out the door I looked back. Dad was standing with hands in his pockets in the middle of the empty room. Hands fisted in his pockets.
“Hey Dad” He hadn’t really taken his eyes off me since I came downstairs but he was trying to be cool with this. “Dad, thank you.”
I could see him Still standing in the living room as we drove away. Shit.
Derek had his eyes on the road. But if his eyes were straight ahead the rest of him was relaxed and easy. Shit head, he was giving me time to take it all in.
“So you went…”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t…”
“No.”
“So why didn’t you…”
“Because Stiles… He’s your dad, and it was eating at you. I have enough… we have enough secrets already. We didn’t need one more.”
I thought about that a little bit first. “I am not good at being taken care of…”
He turned and smiled at me. “No shit.”
Maybe I should have seduced Scott after all. Of course that meant I would have to kill Allyson first. It’s always about hiding the body, damn it.
***
So the Ark, we pulled up in front and gave it a once over. It wasn’t even 10pm yet so there was hardly anybody there. The church was stone built, baroque period and probably catholic. Staff was managing the door, not the usual kind of walking refrigerators I normally see in a club either.
This had been an industrial district once, full of manufacturing jobs. Before highways and jet planes, people lived within walking distance of their jobs and shops. Things change, there were miles of decaying row-houses and shuttered shops. The jobs went away and the residents followed them. Their cathedral was left behind.
From the open doors we could hear music, a fairly mellow trance style but I didn’t recognize the artist. Derek looked at me. I could almost hear him thinking. Reward good behaviour dad always says. “Curly fries?”
Derek snickered. I backed up the request with puppy eyes and he laughed out loud. There was less street parking than you might expect but we found something only a block away. Lunch trucks parked up and down the street. Most of them weren’t open yet. Baskerville’s was the outstanding exception. No curly fries, but the cracklings on their Hog-roast, even Derek was salivating.
My werewolf was a treat to watch. All black leather and silk with a paper napkin under his chin and pork grease dripping from the corners of his mouth. From the glint in his eye, I looked just as silly.
Stiles grin was almost wolfish. It was the simple things that made him happiest. I made sure to memorize every line of him in this moment. He is made out of tough stuff, but there are no guarantees. We all need memories of better days and happier times for when the sky falls. Inevitably the sky will fall. But not tonight.
“What?” I could not quite sort the emotions playing behind Derek’s eyes. “What’s going on inside that warped little brain?”
“We’re young. We are free, and I love you.”
I knew that. I knew that of course, but he had never said it. I never expected him to say it. Derek doesn’t believe in happy endings and he never tempts fate by stating the obvious. Honestly, it scared me a little. But he was happy. He was Eefing glowing. Fuck, I don’t want my mascara to run. It’s far too early for me to be bawling.
I took another bite of my hog-roast, not trusting my voice. He wasn’t waiting for a response, he was just telling me how he felt.
“Derek Hale talks about feelings. Can Ragnarok be far behind?” He didn’t take offense but I could have kicked myself. He was being honest and open with his feelings and I made a joke.
He grabbed at me, slow enough I could evade. “Not the hair!”
It made him laugh, it made me laugh. Derek didn’t care how he dressed because he was hot in anything or nothing, especially nothing. I didn’t bother because it was hopeless, except tonight. I had fretted all day wanting to make it special. No matter what I did it was the same skinny white-boy with saucer eyes in the mirror.
Until, I saw him look at me. Derek looked at me and I was beautiful; there was no one else he wanted to be with. For that handful of heart-beats I was the only person on the planet.
As a general rule I detest crowds. Not least, because with so many people packed into a small space, you don’t know when the bad guy is about to stick a knife in you. The other thing that is tough for me is the Group-mind, it’s not telepathy per se but it comes very close.
Stiles was too much of an individual. He couldn’t lose himself in a normal crowd, in a sense of belonging. As a lifestyle it leaves much to be desired, as a transcendental experience, it’s the bomb. Goth culture is made for people like Stiles, individualistic, pedantic, hyper aware. Any doubts were dismissed as soon as he walked in the room tonight. He wasn’t trying on a new look, he was f—ing Lord Byron without the snotty attitude.
Tonight’s second perk. Goths prided themselves on their tolerance. No one would mess with us, and it’s not the kind of feeding frenzy you find in a gay bar. I was reasonably confident I wouldn’t have the urge to rip someone’s tongue out.
You can honestly judge a club by its bouncers. The two guys and one girl managing the door were martial artists, trim svelte, confident of their ability to handle any situation. They took our measure too. We were unknowns and a far cry from the usual insecure adolescents seeking refuge in counter culture. We were directed to the house rules posted on a huge oak panel.
The No’s
No booze
No drugs
No smoking
No drama
No pointy things
The Do’s
Have fun
Dance
Enjoy the music
Enjoy the scene
Ask questions
Say no when you mean it
I looked at Derek and choked back my snarky comment. His teeth were very pointy and it amused me no end that they were included in the ban. I wasn’t worried though.
Inside, wow… The DJ was spinning where the altar had been. Behind him, VIP tables filled the sanctuary. Most of the Nave was given up to dancing. The club had rigged lights to shine in through the stain glass windows. Soft jewel colours were the main illumination. It was still early and the crowd was small but oh so cool.
Silk, linen, and velvet, every style from Dickens to medieval, but everyone had some modern twist. More girls than boys, but just because girls are more adventurous with their outfits. A handful were in their 30’s and 40’s but most of the crowed were early 20’s or late teens.
The way Derek’s corset emphasized his wide back and slim waist got lots of attention. I was prepared to defend my claim against poachers. The looks I received were envious but respectful. It dawned on me then. In this crowd, I was his match. My muscles were leaner but no less obvious. I wasn’t the skinny geek kid here, I was an athlete. Derek was the hottest thing they had ever seen but I was a close second, kinda blew my mind.
We snooped a little bit, it’s our nature. Besides, not knowing where the exits are, is a very bad idea. Four rows of stone columns held up the vaulted ceiling with its mosaic saints and angels. Clusters of couches and armchairs made isolated islands for conversation against the walls. There were tables near the front doors and more in the choir loft. They had wait-staff to serve juice, soda, and snacky things. That was ubür cool.
We were pretty much done snooping when I realized Derek was holding my hand. When had that happened? Then he was dragging me onto the dance floor. Not a lot of people were dancing but enough I didn’t feel like a spectacle. Derek’s teeth were flashing. Usually the best I could get was a shy smile or maybe a leer. Tonight he was smiling, full on, laser bright. And he could dance. I had never thought about it. I mean he could fight, make like Spiderman and smash like the Hulk, but I had never seen him even bust a move. This was more, a lot more.
Stiles followed me bravely. He wasn’t the most social kid. At his prom he had spent more time yacking and playing pranks than dancing. He could dance I knew that because I watched. It was disconcerting how many predators thought a high school dance was a snack-bar. But honestly, I spent more time watching him than myself appointed errands required.
Tonight he was my boyfriend, officially my boyfriend. I’ve never had one before. I mean it’s obvious you can’t be in a relationship with someone that doesn’t know the most basic thing about you. It was a night of firsts. When Peter told me Stiles was crushed on me I thought it was a set-up. I thought he was fishing for dirt or working an angle.
First time few times I saw him, he was with Scott and they were so tightly into each other I figured it was only a matter of time before they crossed that line. Then the Argent girl got her claws into Scott, well there were a lot of reasons I didn’t like it. Watching Stiles become a third wheel was one of them. He deserved better than that.
Yes my boyfriend could dance but as far as I knew, he only danced with friends. I had something very different in mind.
Derek is gorgeous. He can reduce a room full of adults to drooling idiots with a backward glance. So when he started dancing with me (and I mean with me) I was pretty much lost. No brain activity. All seething muscle, gleaming sweat and flashing eyes. Only inches away from me at any time. Our bodies twisting together like snakes but not quite touching.
I’ve never been that graceful in my life but I just knew somehow where he was going to be and how I could make him be where I was. The back of his hand brushed my jaw. The black curls fluttered under my breath. This was my alpha and I could feel him in my pores, knew his intention in my blood.
The songs blended together and the DJ swept us along, spinning us together and flinging us apart. Derek caught my hand and drew me to stillness. Teeth flashing in a smile, eyes shining green, he led me off the floor. A handful of people clapped, that surprised me. A glance at Derek showed he was still smiling. Throwing an arm around my shoulder he whispered. “You made them happy, you make me happy.”
It’s everything I ever wanted to hear and my stomach dropped into my boots. He sees it in my face and feels it throb through the pack-bond. My disbelief that I can make someone happy. Conviction I can only be a thorn in his side, a burden to be endured. Tears spring in Derek’s eyes and he grabs me hard, pulls me against him and hangs on.
It’s a good thing he does.
I feel it coming, the self-doubt. It’s been hovering on my edges since I set eyes on him. But it takes this moment for me to see his real wound. He let that Argent bitch take Scott because he didn’t think he was good enough.
He was always a smart one, too smart. I can see that serious little boy taking care of all the people around him. He lost his mother. Kids are selfish by nature but Stiles is never one for self-pity. His mom was gone, instead of grieving he makes sure to take better care of who is left. I’ve listened to him do it. Patiently explain how people get sick even when they want to be healthy. How people die even though they don’t want to leave. Why did nobody notice? He is trembling in my arms.
“Stiles, it’s a panic attack. You’re going to be okay it’s just a panic attack. Let’s go sit down.”
He’s nodding and lets me guide him away from the floor. People are watching us. The attention grates on my nerves. Then there is a woman blocking my way. She is standing there in her Stevie Nicks-drag between my boyfriend and the chair he needs to sit down in.
She reconsiders, turns around and shoos people away from a corner table. All Florence Nightingale now she still irritates me. When a pitcher of water and two glasses magically arrive I wonder who she is. Stevie Nicks or not she gets things done.
“Thank you.” It’s graceless, but Stiles is shaking like a leaf.
“What’s he on?” The question un-nerves me a little. But it is a fair one. She has no way to know.
“It’s a panic attack Lady. Now could you quit distracting me?” My voice sounds rusty, but it does back her off.
She’s comes back with a damp cloth wrapped around ice cubes. Stiles jumps when I apply it to his forehead. “Shhh! Breathe baby boy, just breathe.” Stiles is going to kill me when he remembers this and I don’t care. Getting him through the next few minutes is all I care about.
The icepack helps a lot. Derek is freaked out. The only time I’ve ever seen him this freaked was the night Kate Argent died. Witchy woman has two of the bouncers backing her up this time. That’s not good.
I pull myself together. Derek will rip their arms off if they touch me. “Shit, sorry, sorry…”
Derek’s having none of it. “No. Don’t apologize to me.” I flick him on the forehead. “Quit hovering, you got me through it. It’s good. Now maybe we should go home.”
She smiles. “I think that would be for the best.” Beacon Hills has wiccans, even debilitated I recognize that energy in her aura. This is her domain and we are bringing an unwelcome energy here.
Derek frowned. He had an agenda. I’ve pretty much ruined it with my hysterics but he wasn’t ready to give up. He had not quite caught on to us having a new set of problems.
I was levering myself out of the chair when one of the bouncers made the mistake of putting his hands on me. Derek’s snarl was eclipsed by a blue crackle and a pop. Muscle boy jumped about a foot and back-peddled swearing.
“With your permission Lady we will leave now. Thank you for your courtesy.” She actually grinned at me. It made me nervous.
“Permission granted. Do please visit us again, perhaps when things are less hectic.” She waved her goons back. Derek had never let go of my hand. Now I gave it a tug. He practically swept me off my feet. Not slowing down until we were in the car.
“Did we just…”
“Start the car.”
“But…”
“Derek, take me home.”
Once we were on the road and he was giving his attention to traffic, I could start sorting out events. First though, I activated the null-ward on the mustang. Derek would have ripped that guys arm right off literally. That would have been very bad.
On the other hand, there were reasons I did not want the pack to know I was learning sorcery.
“You know what that was about?” Derek’s question sounded more like a statement. I chose to answer the obvious question. “It was a panic attack. They don’t need reasons.”
“BZZZZ wrong answer. They don’t need logical reasons.” He had a point he wanted to make and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear it now. Derek is not the most insightful guy. He is however like a dog with a bone when he’s right.
“I’ll make you a deal.” The narrowed eyes told me he was not impressed with my marketing. “If you will make a detour by the lake tonight. I will listen to your theory in the morning.”
The Lake was our favourite make-out spot. We started out good. I wanted to finish on a good note too. I think he got it. Derek believes in anticipating trouble and ambushing it.
“That sounds like a good plan. It must be Ragnarok.” And that set us to laughing.
***
I kept our bargain, no questions, not even a thoughtful pause. Granted, a Stiles in hand turns my brain to mush anyway. We ended on a high note. I dropped him off and watched him go inside before pulling away. Saturday morning, I arrived at the civilized hour of 11am with bagels, lox, cream cheese, and coffee.
There was nothing in our agreement about how we were going to discuss my ‘theory’ or with whom. Bringing Mr Stilinsky into the conversation was a bit of insurance. Besides it would be entertaining to watch Stiles try to keep all those plates spinning.
I was using the back gate, when I got a clue how busy my boi had been. There was a barrier, a substantial barrier. At first, I thought it must be more Rowan wood. He was going to run that trick into the ground. Tricks are only as useful as they are unexpected.
Rowan repels evil, if you burn it in a particular kind of fire, it attacks the meta-natural. This was something else and I am not entirely sure what. My lad was getting tricky, that is not a bad thing. I went round the front way. Plain Rowan-wood here and the gate was propped open. That gate used to be broken. It was in perfect repair now and propped open so I could enter freely.
Stiles answered the door, eyes darting from my face to the coffee in my hands. His heart beat was erratic, telling me he was nervous and might have spotted me out back. Tricky is good, strategy is better.
“Hey.”
“I brought brunch.”
“Br-un-ch?” Disbelief dripping from every syllable.
It was fun baiting Stiles. “Yeah, I know it’s kinda gay but dude I found Lox.”
Rattling the paper bag brought another voice. “Stiles let the man in. He brought lox.” Suspicion dawned, even as he stepped aside to let me in.
Mr Stilinsky grinned as I passed the door to his office. “Posh? Derek… you went to Posh. Welcome to the family son.”
Rule number one in strategy, make allies. “Derek, what’s in the bag?” Rule number two, keep your opponent disorganized.
“Bagels, hummus, salmon, herb-spread and black coffee.” Described that way it sounded healthy. He wasn’t buying it.
Once it was unpacked Stiles pounced on the spread. “That’s cream cheese. Do you know how much cholesterol is in cream cheese?” Rule three never fight on ground of your opponents choosing. “Did you tell your dad about the panic attack last night?”
Both men went very still.
“Stiles…” That voice was patient beyond being tired. The look he gave me suspected a deeper game but was grateful for the information.
Mom used to say long life was no guarantee of wisdom but it was an essential first-step.
My boyfriend is smart. Smart has limitations that experience doesn’t.
I slid a cup in front of him. “The Latte is for you by the way.”
Was this a peace offering or a bribe? Derek hated me putting myself in danger. Even if it was for good reason, even if it was essential to keeping him alive. We are alike that way. The people we love are more important than our own lives. It’s kind of selfish really. Insisting they keep living without us when we are not willing to live without them.
Props to him, he’s enrolled my dad in his keep Stiles alive and healthy campaign. Well if he needs my dad on his side then he needs my dad alive.
“Derek, my dad’s cholesterol is over 350.” The cream cheese vanished from the table. My dad is not so easily distracted. “You did not tell me they had started up again.”
My chances of changing the subject with Derek Hale standing there were zero. They were happening regularly and that was no surprise because the number of times I was in danger of death on a weekly basis had gone through the roof. It wasn’t fair to blame Derek for that. He wasn’t the one that bit Scott and he wasn’t the one that resurrected f-ing Peter Hale from the grave. On the other hand, just because Jackson asked for the bite was no reason to give it to him.
“Yeah, well I’m a mental case. But Derek was right there looking out for me and he was awesome.”
Listening to Stiles blow smoke annoyed me. “I am more interested in what triggered the attack. I said you ‘make me happy’ and you fell apart. What was that about?”
“Oh my freaking god! You want to play therapist with me? Cause they’ve been climbing around inside my brain for half my life and they still don’t know.”
Stiles dad went pale. My boi’s rant evaporated as his attention flipped back to his father.
Mr Stilinsky’s pulse was steady enough but his breathing had gone ragged. “She used to say that. She said you made her happy.”
Stiles opened his mouth to reply and nothing came out. I could hear his pulse start to hammer. Then he started to tremble. His dad didn’t notice at first, lost in his own traumatic memory. I grabbed a chair and eased my boy into it gently. He was disorientated and offered no resistance.
The movement got Mr Stilinsky’s attention. He looked to me for direction and I nodded to the other chair. I felt just as helpless as last night, but not as confused.
Therapist are wonderful folks; making it their work to be there for other people to face down their demons. A good one doesn’t give you answers to your problems. They help you find your answers. My boy is smart. He knew what other people needed and gave it to them. It never occurred to anyone he needed something different.
I’m not good at feelings. I have them same as everyone, mine just feel too big and out of size compared to everyone else. But it’s not rocket science. If she constantly told Stiles ‘he made her happy’ and then she died; she loved him and then she left. What was a little guy going to do with that?
I couldn’t promise him I wouldn’t die. He needed a different set of answers. He needed his answers.
“Derek, what was it like for you?” Mr Stilinsky’s question caught me unprepared. At first I didn’t know why he would care when Stiles was hyperventilating. Until I heard my own pulse trip into double time. We had been together enough that Stiles picked it up through the pack-bond.
Laura had forced me to go through therapy for years. I had faced my demons if not made peace with them. It couldn’t hurt to tell them the truth. I was going to need to tell them someday. This was not something I was willing to take to the grave.
“Kate Argent was my girlfriend.” The silence was deafening.
“I didn’t know she was psychotic, but an 18 year old woman sleeping with a 14 year old boy should have been a good clue.”
How could I explain the rest of that? I still blamed myself and prayed for forgiveness almost every day.
Stiles leaned his head back against my stomach. His eyes were welling. He put aside his pain to hold mine. A gesture so tender and so selfless it drove the air from my lungs.
Derek folded over Stiles shoulder like a puppet with slashed strings. My son got himself twisted around enough to get his arms around Derek and pull him onto his lap. They sat like that completely oblivious to everything but each other. It’s one of those saccharin moments you learn to live with.
After about three minutes of that I grabbed the bagel with Lox and one of the coffees, retreating to our back porch. This was their relationship. Nothing I could say was going to be useful. They had to figure out how it worked on their own.
What I wanted to know was why Stiles did not want Derek to use our back gate?