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At first, they think the witch’s spell didn’t work.
But on their way out of the forest, Derek suggests they all go for burgers. Says it would be nice if they all ate together, like a real pack should.
Everyone looks askance at each other, but no one actually says no.
It just gets weirder from there.
*
Derek offers to have the next pack meeting in his loft, which isn’t so unusual.
The part that really throws Stiles off is the wide smile he gets in greeting, and the open friendliness of Derek’s tone as he welcomes them in.
While they discuss pack business, instead of scowling silently in the corner, Derek says things like “That’s a good idea,” or, “I don’t think that’ll work.” He listens to everyone’s comments, voicing his own opinions while nodding along and talking things through.
It’s bizarre.
And when it’s time to leave, Derek stands and hugs each and every pack member goodbye at the door.
Stiles tries not to remember his hug as the greatest moment of his life, but utterly fails.
Then Derek decides to completely ruin his life, by cheerfully inviting everyone back to the loft on Friday for a sleepover.
*
Derek shows up to the lacrosse game on Thursday night.
He sits in the stands between Allison and Lydia, and cheers like he’s dating someone on the team, too. He even helps them hold their signs.
Stiles only gets to play for the first half, before Coach decides to sit him out the rest of the game. It seems, at least from his position on the bench, that Derek is a lot less enthusiastic for the second half.
*
Derek has a huge pillow-and-blanket nest, set up and waiting, in the middle of the living room. He’s wearing sweats and a loose shirt, and he looks incredibly comfortable.
Stiles opens his mouth to ask for a hug, then snaps it shut again. He can’t do this awkward pining thing, at least, not with the entire pack here to witness it.
Everyone else is wearing pajamas or something like them, and he feels a little overdressed in his jeans and long sleeve shirt. Whatever, he’s comfortable.
Derek directs them to the table, which is piled high with pizza and drinks. While everyone digs in, talking and laughing, Derek dims the lights. Then he sprawls out on the pillow pile, arms spread and his eyes closed.
It’s clearly an invitation, and Isaac is the first to take it.
He sits down near the edge of the blanket nest, a slice of pizza in hand. He looks around nervously as he eats it, his eyes lingering on Derek. When he’s finished, he wipes his hands and just sits there, looking unsure.
Erica, who’s on the couch with Boyd, gives him an encouraging nod, and that’s all it takes.
Isaac inches forward until he’s right next to Derek, who hasn’t stirred. He lays down, hesitantly resting his head on Derek’s chest.
Derek’s arm immediately comes around him, tugging him closer, and Isaac makes a happy little sound as he snuggles in.
Erica’s next, smiling as she curls up on Derek’s other side. She’s followed, of course, by Boyd. He spoons up behind her, resting his hand on Derek’s hip.
Scott comes over too, laying sideways and resting his head on Derek’s thigh. Allison laughs at him, but ends up tucked behind Isaac, and Scott squeezes a hand reassuringly around his ankle.
Jackson tries to look like he’s above all of it, but he clearly can’t resist the pull of the pack-bonding moment. He shuffles over, looking almost nervous, before laying down with his cheek resting against the top of Derek’s head.
Lydia stays in the armchair, seeming content to watch them benevolently.
And Stiles, well. Stiles is torn. He’s not sure if he’s pack enough to join the puppy pile on the floor. Not sure if it’s the right thing to do. So he hesitates.
He falls asleep on the couch before he can decide to move.
*
“You shouldn’t have gone after her,” Deaton says, when Stiles asks about the spell. “I told you she wasn’t a threat.”
“She was setting fires out in the preserve!”
“Small, controlled ones,” Deaton says calmly. “I believe she was trying to create a safe, purified space so she could enter into a treaty with the pack.”
“Oh. We fucked up,” Stiles says weakly.
“You did,” Deaton says, as unflappable as ever.
“But can you break the spell?” Stiles asks urgently.
Deaton sighs. “No, but it should wear off in a few weeks.”
“Weeks?” Stiles groans. “Why would she do that?”
“At first, I assumed she cast a spell simply as a distraction, to get you to back off,” Deaton says. “But now that I see the effects, I’m not sure that it isn’t a gift.”
“How could that possibly be a gift?” Stiles demands, outraged.
Deaton gives him a stern look. “Derek is no longer afraid of allowing himself to be happy. Doesn’t that sound like a gift to you?”
*
When Stiles walks into his room the next afternoon, he finds Derek stretched out on his bed, looking completely at home there. He only hesitates for a moment, staring, before he slumps down into his computer chair.
He eyes Derek speculatively. He looks like he’s asleep, but Stiles would bet he’s not.
“What are you doing?” he asks eventually.
Derek cracks open one eye, tilting his head toward Stiles. “Waiting for you to join me,” he says easily.
Stiles tries not to let his reaction show on his face, but he’s sure he doesn’t manage it. “Why?” he asks, hands gripping the arms of his chair tightly.
“Because you wanted to at the sleepover, but you didn’t,” Derek says, quirking an eyebrow while the rest of his face stays soft and open. “Why not?”
“That was clearly a wolf-pack cuddle session,” Stiles says evasively.
“It was for everyone in the pack,” Derek says. “But something’s bothering you. You’re the only one who hasn’t come to talk to me, or ask me questions, or even just hang out. What’s wrong?”
“It’s not that I don’t like seeing you happy—” he starts, but cuts off when he sees Derek patting the bed in clear invitation.
“Come on,” Derek says softly. “It’s okay.”
“You say that now,” Stiles mutters, but he cautiously climbs up on the bed, his eyes fixed on Derek’s amused face. He carefully lays along Derek’s side, settling his head on his chest.
Derek carefully pulls him in, tucking him up close and warm. Stiles, deciding he might as well make the most of it, curls his arm around Derek’s waist and settles in.
He lays there, listening to the steady beat of Derek’s heart, letting it calm his own.
Derek leaves him be for a long time, but eventually says, “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Stiles takes a deep breath. “I just—it feels wrong? That’s why I haven’t been to see you,” he says, stumbling over what he’s trying to say. “Like going to you right now, asking you questions, it just doesn’t feel right.”
“And why is that?” Derek asks softly.
“It sort of feels like getting someone drunk, then asking them to tell you all their secrets. You don’t have your inhibitions, Derek. It feels like taking advantage of you, and I don’t.” He breaks off, his throat tight. “I don’t want to be someone who does that. I don’t want the spell to end, and you regret everything you said to me, everything you did.”
Derek nods. “I’m doing a lot of things I never would have before,” he says kindly. “But not because I didn’t want to. I was just afraid to,” he says, stroking his hand soothingly down Stiles’ back. “I’m not under the influence of anything, no one is making me do anything. And my senses are intact, so I’m pretty sure no one is trying to manipulate me.”
Stiles finds his grip around Derek’s waist tightening. They better not be, he thinks.
“What I’m trying to say is, I won’t regret what’s happened,” Derek says.
“But can you really be sure?” Stiles says. “I always say things like ‘if I didn’t have anxiety, I would do a lot more,’ but I don’t actually know. It’s just a guess. I don’t know what kind of person I would be without my near-constant fear. So I’m not sure you can promise me that you won’t end up regretting this.”
“Maybe not,” Derek says, bringing a hand up to gently comb through Stiles’ hair. “But I have a lot of certainty. Still, I understand if you want to be cautious.”
“I do. I just don’t want to hurt you, Derek,” Stiles says, tilting his head to see Derek’s face. He looks completely accepting. Stiles sighs, not wanting to give up this comfort. “Okay,” he says, sitting up and setting his feet back on the ground.
“It shouldn’t be for too much longer,” Derek says, gently squeezing Stiles’ shoulder before climbing out of the bed. “Just remember that I’m here for you, spell or no spell.”
“I will,” Stiles says quietly, then stares in shock when, instead of going out the window, Derek actually uses the door.
*
So Stiles listens to stories about Chris Argent’s heart-to-heart with Derek, about Derek’s conversations with Allison. About the time Scott spends with him, where they both talk about the mistakes they’ve made and the way they’ve changed.
He hears stories about forgiveness, about kindness and acceptance.
He thinks about hearing Derek’s rumbling voice, being tucked against his chest. He thinks about Derek’s laugh.
And he stays away.
That’s the problem with being in love with someone, he thinks. You’re too afraid of hurting them.
Because hurting them hurts you, too.
*
Derek holds a pack meeting the day the spell breaks.
He still smiles, still greets everyone with a hug, but Stiles can see the difference. Can see the reserve in his expression, the way he hesitates before speaking. He’s less free with his smiles.
But he seems more like himself. Still happy, but self-contained.
He answers everyone’s questions, then invites them all back to another sleepover this upcoming Friday. Everyone happily agrees.
The rest of the pack troops out, and when Derek catches his eye, Stiles sits back down instead of following them. He shuts the door and lingers there for a long moment, waiting, Stiles knows, for privacy.
The first thing Derek says when he joins Stiles on the couch is, “I don’t regret any of it.”
Stiles smiles weakly, overwhelmed, because Derek’s expression is suddenly as open and sweet as it was while he was under the spell. “I’m glad,” he says quietly, full of relief.
“I know you were worried about the way the spell was effecting me, so I wanted to wait until it wore off to ask,” Derek says, taking Stiles’ hand.
“Ask me what?” Stiles says nervously, his heart speeding up at Derek’s serious look.
“If you’d like to go out with me,” Derek says softly.
“I’d love to,” Stiles says with a smile, happiness filling his chest with warmth. “Please kiss me before I say something embarrassing.”
Derek laughs, but he kisses Stiles anyway, letting his lips drag slow and sweet over Stiles’ before pulling away.
“You know what, I’m gonna do it anyway,” Stiles mumbles, darting forward to kiss Derek again. “Do you still have all those pillows and blankets around?”
“Of course,” Derek says, giving him an odd look. “Why?”
“Do you think we could, uh, bring them in here and maybe cuddle for a while? And talk?” Stiles asks, flushing.
“Of course,” Derek says, giving him a warm smile. “For as long as you want.”
Forever, Stiles thinks. Definitely forever.