Work Text:
“So…” Scott starts.
Stiles hums a reply. He’s not really paying attention to Scott- or anyone- or anything for that matter. They’re in the library, held back after school in detention, finishing up the work they didn’t get done during English class, with none other than Mr. Harris. They weren’t even doing anything bad - just talking. Yes they were supposed to be focused on their assignment but they still did the work while they were talking. Well, Stiles didn’t do the work. Scott did. He also just happened to be talking to Stiles at the same time.
“Stiles?” Scott questions tooling at him expectantly.
“What? Huh, yeah? I’m listening,” Stiles encourages as he continues writing.
“Did you hear any of what I just said?”
Stiles looks up and around the room now. Everyone else has left and it is just the two of them. Even Mr. Harris has left for the afternoon without so much as a sarcastic jab at the pair.
“For the sake of making sure I heard you right the first time, could you maybe repeat that?”
Scott shakes his head unsurprised and stands up. Stiles then notices that Scott has already packed up all of his belongings so Stiles gathers all of his paperwork into a messy pile and shoves them into his bag as well.
“I was talking about how I- how we have noticed you and Derek have gotten close.”
Stiles throws his backpack over his shoulder as he stands up, “yeah. I guess,” he replies, not really sure where Scott was going with this.
Scott nods and holds one of the double doors open for them to walk through. They walk in relative silence as they head to their lockers. The school has cleared out for the day; no students in sight though the faint echo of chatter rustles through the narrow hallway as the last of students and educators head home for the day. The pair of them shove their books into their lockers and start to make their way to the Jeep.
“Do you think he’ll be mad that we’re late?” Scott asks, sounding a little concerned.
Stiles shrugs, “I dunno, dude. I mean once you tell him that I was the reason that we were late and that we were late because of detention I think he’ll be a little understanding. Disappointed, but understanding.”
“God, I hope so. Why does he even insist on training us?” Scott whines as they climb in and buckle up.
“So that on the nights of the full moon, all you were-creatures don’t go about killing and maiming the humans of Beacon Hills? Me Scott! I am one of the humans of Beacon Hills you have tried to kill and or maim.”
“That was one time! How many times do you want me to apologise for it?”
“It was a couple of times, actually, and every time it is brought up will be acceptable thank you!”
Scott sighs and stews momentarily before returning back to his previous observations, “so, Derek?”
“What about him?” Stiles asks as innocently as he can muster. He knew Scott would start scrutinising their friendship sooner rather than later but he really didn’t feel like an interrogation in the small confines of his Jeep where he has no exit point and a werewolf that can sniff his lies. He knows Scott is not Derek’s biggest fan but honestly, he didn't think he would have any, or much of a, problem with it.
“Do you think he’ll be different now?”
“What?” Stiles shoots a quick confused look at his friend before concentrating back on the road.
“Y’know, since the other day at your house?” Scott continues.
Stiles sighs inwardly. None of the betas outwardly said anything about the display of emotions on Stiles’ driveway that afternoon, but he knew with absolute certainty that they all at the very least heard it, “why would he be any different?”
“I mean… we all saw… we all heard?”
Knew it, Stiles thinks but says, “I don’t think so?” It’s more of a question as to why Scott would think Derek would be any different rather than questioning whether he would be or not.
Scott mutters a “damn,” then turns his attention to his phone.
Stiles frowns at the road confused but gladly let the conversation drop.
“Do you know what we’re doing today?”
Stiles shrugs. Of course he knows what Derek has in store for them.
“Are you going to tell me?”
Stiles scoffs amusedly, “nope.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence, that is, aside from the occasional complaint about Allison not talking to Scott again because of some new idiotic thing he has done, again . Stiles does his best not to listen but to pretend that he is in order to prevent the conversation's depth and preserve his sanity. He just prays to whatever God is out there that when he has his own relationship, he is more mature than those two.
When they pull up, Derek is shouting at Isaac and Erica who are sitting on the ground under one of the big trees out front giggling to each other, or maybe at Derek, he’s not sure. Boyd and Jackson, however, are nowhere in sight. Stiles and Scott climb out of the car and all eyes are on them, Isaac and Erica still amused by whatever, and Derek basically steaming with frustration.
“Where the hell have you been?” Derek demands more to Scott than to Stiles but his gaze flickers between both of them.
“Detention,” they reply in drained unison.
Derek's frown deepens as he turns away from them and back to the other two.
As Scott timidly walks over to the group, Stiles climbs onto the hood of his Jeep and makes himself comfy, observing the commotion.
“Get up!” Derek commands.
Erica and Isaac snigger to each other again, and the puzzle pieces click in Stiles’ mind, they are refusing training.
“What’s happening?” Scott questions.
“You’re late is what’s happening,” Derek snaps.
“I had detention,” Scott whines.
“They won’t train,” Derek points his finger at Erica and Isaac who are still giggling like a couple of preschoolers, and c’mon, it’s not that funny, then turns back to Scott, “because you were late.”
“Well I’m here now.”
“Good,” he says to Scott then turns back to Erica and Isaac, “Now get up and run!”
The door to the house slams open and Peter storms out, shifted, and in nothing but torn khakis.
“Oh, shi-” Erica mutters as she and Isaac scramble to their feet and sprint into the woods. Peter starts charging towards them and Scott bolts to join.
Stiles chuckles from the hood of the Jeep and pulls his phone out of his pocket. With slouched shoulders and a sigh, Derek walks over to Stiles and stands next to him leaning against the flared fenders.
“Greetings.”
“Why were you in detention?”
“I’m good, thanks for asking. And how are you?” Stiles mocks.
Derek makes eye contact with Stiles briefly before glancing back into the woods. His face is harder than usual this afternoon and his brows are still furrowed.
Okay not in the joking mood then.
“Hello,” he grits out through clenched teeth and looks at Stiles expectantly, eyebrows raised.
Stiles can’t help but grin at the sour-wolf and answers, “we were talking. Well- I was talking. Scott was doing the work like the nerd he is. But he was talking as well so we both got held back because apparently you can’t talk and work at the same time. It’s not allowed.”
Derek shook his head as if he was not surprised but this.
“I did do the work! I had finished it, in fact. Just F. Y. I.”
Derek suppresses a smile and sighs once again. They both know Stiles is lying. It technically wasn’t a lie though. He finished the work… in detention, but the topic was dropped.
“Why are you yelling at them?” Stiles asks.
Derek’s face hardens once again.
“I mean you yell at them on a normal day, but today more than usual…”
“They’re not listening,” he mumbles and crosses his arms over his chest.
Stiles has to admit that Derek sulking is kind of amusing but terrifying all the same. Stiles swallows, avoiding looking at Derek’s arms. His gorgeous, bulging, biceps that make his shoulders look broader than they normally are when he crosses them.
Stiles nods his head, “you’re their alpha. Can’t you just do your alpha-ry thing and make them?”
Derek glares at Stiles who shrugs and goes back to mindlessly scrolling through his phone. They stand and sit there in a comfortable silence for, not sure how long, until Scott, Isaac, and Erica come sprinting back into view, and accompanied by Jackson and Boyd.
“Are you trying to kill us?” Scott shouts dramatically whilst trying to catch his breath.
“I’m trying to teach you,” Derek emphasises, the frustration still tainting his tone.
“By killing us?” Scott whines.
Derek rolls his eyes and pushes himself upright off of the car, “you’re still breathing, aren’t you?”
The only response to that was a grumpy mumble from Scott to Isaac that was inaudible to Stiles’ ears. The others were still trying to catch their breath.
When Peter stalks out of the tree line and back into view, he hangs around. Usually he would stay inside and eavesdrop from whatever cave he lived in but today he stands by Derek.
“You got lucky with the Kanima, but you all still need to improve if you want to do more than just survive…” Stiles zones out as Derek monologues.
Training today would be more physical than mental by the sounds of what Stiles has been told. Every now and again Derek would give the betas something to track, or trick them into ingesting some form of poison to werewolves and then would make them work for the antidote, or sometimes even just a straight up fight to keep their defence intact. Today starts with the latter, and it’s the betas versus Derek and Peter. Although he is no longer an alpha, he is almost as strong as Derek, almost as quick, but Derek is still superior. Definitely faster and stronger if the consistent throwing of whatever beta has launched themselves at Derek says anything.
Stiles looks up when Derek yells at Scott who has yet to get up after being thrown into a tree yet again. He worries at first, sits upright even, as he watches Scott who is in a motionless crumple.
“Are you even trying!?”
Stiles lets out the breath he was holding in relief when Scott sits up. Stiles leans back and relaxes, shaking his head when Scott shrugs from the floor, “we outran Peter…”
“You outran me because I was given orders to let you,” Peter glances at his nails… or claws.. Stiles can’t see very well from his position safely out of the way. And no he was not complaining about that fact. He was very grateful for his view today. No way did he want to be in any line of target. He is happy to remain injury free today.
“Why do you even insist on doing this,” and Stiles can feel Derek’s frustration as he lifts Scott up by his shirt and shoves him onto his feet.
“Are you even listening?” Derek yells, inches from his face.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So we don’t die…”
The other betas are huddled together now, Isaac looking stressed, Jackson and Boyd looking almost as frustrated as Derek, almost , and Erica just looks as bored as Scott.
What the hell is going on with them, Stiles is annoyed for Derek. He wants to get up and yell in Scott’s face too and tell him to listen.
“You don’t think you need me? Need this?” Derek shoves Scott again who doesn’t even say anything. He barely reacts at all.
“Good. That's what I thought. Keep going the-” Derek is cut off as he quickly ducks and rolls away from Scott who attempts a swipe at his face.
The ‘fight’ continues. Stiles would be lying if he said that watching Derek fight off three of the betas at once wasn’t hot. He’ll throw one off of him and before he even has a chance to think about anything, another one makes an attempt at him. And he fights them off with ease, as if he knows every move they’re going to make before they even make one. Peter does it almost as fluently too, but Derek does it better.
Maybe it’s a Hale thing.
But right as the thought crosses his mind, Peter howls as Jackson slashes his chest, blood squirting out on impact but stops almost immediately. The wound heals as quickly as it appeared and Peter is getting his revenge by sending Jackson flying into the nearest tree. Stiles sniggers quietly to himself finding satisfaction in the crack that echoes upon collision. And it continues on like this for sometime; the betas swiping and slashing at Derek (who doesn’t seem phased or even flinch at any attempt on him) and Peter. Stiles takes note of how Derek never swipes back at them either, only throws them and blocks, never scratching.
Maybe because he is conscious that they won’t heal nowhere near as fast as they can from an alpha’s scratch.
The betas moves begin to slow, even Peter looks as if he is starting to wear, but he does not slow down in comparison.
Derek huffs. Aside from the few flaps of loose fabric in his shirt he does not look like he has engaged in any physical exertion.
“What did I tell you all about being predictable?” Derek turns his back for a second and Erica takes it as her opportunity to throw herself onto him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his shoulders. Derek turns around just in time to catch her. Her hands move to his face, and she leans in as if she might kiss him. Stiles watches intensely, his eyes glued to them and his breath hitching. But just as quickly as she attached herself, Derek flips her off of him. Stiles swallows the lump in his throat and suppresses the jealousy that rises in him.
“I said be un predictable,” he growls at her.
Stiles frowns but goes back to scrolling once again.
“How are you not exhausted?” Scott whines for what feels like the one hundredth time standing up and holding his shoulder as if it were dislocated.
Derek glares at him and Stiles rolls his eyes. He loves his best friend, he does, but jeez-us the dude could whinge.
“I’m an alpha,” Derek glares at him with his red eyes and glances down at his shirt briefly. It’s basically non-existent any more, barely hanging onto his body. It’s torn all across the front and partially on the back and stained almost entirely maroon with blood.
“McCall, I swear, if you don’t shut the hell up, I will shut you up myself,” Jackson threatens.
“Yeah?” Scott challenges straightening himself up. Stiles shakes his head, turning his phone off and pocketing it, and crosses his arms over his chest watching the agitation.
“Yeah,” Jackson crosses his arms showing off his biceps.
He’s got nothing on Derek’s, Stiles thought to himself. Not that his weren’t not impressive, just not as impressive as Derek’s who is standing with his hands on his hips watching the two bicker at each other.
“I’d like to see you try.” Just as soon as Scott says that, Jackson shifts and lunges himself towards Scott. He barely has time to drop and roll out of the way before crouching and shifting himself. He growls at Jackson and lunges for him and before anyone has any inclination to stop the two, they are in a full blown fight - rolling around and punching each other. Isaac tries to pull Scott off of Jackson but ends up getting himself thrown across the grass. Erica transforms then and runs at Scott also in a failed attempt. Boyd watches the group and shrugs before shifting and joining the brawl though he seems to be on Jackson’s side; assisting him with targets towards Scott.
Stiles is watching all this play out sitting upright, still on the hood, high alert. He’s not sure whether to laugh at how easily stirred up the betas can get, or to yell at Derek to pry them off each other. Either way he’s waiting on edge for the fight to end one way or the other.
It’s loud and thank God Derek lives in the middle of the reserve because if they were in Stiles’ yard, the cops would have been called on them long before this ‘training’ session even started. There’s growling and grunting and the cracks of either their bones or tree bark as they assault each other and Mother Nature slaps against his ears. Stiles could almost hear their skin tearing apart as they slice and slash at each other and surely none of that can be enjoyable in the slightest though it doesn't seem to stop any of them from continuing.
Peter takes a seat, legs outstretched leaning against the bottom steps of the porch watching amusedly. The fact that Peter is starting to enjoy this is making Stiles anxious and quite uncomfortable. It all seems to be getting a little too serious for what it was supposed to be: pack training. They betas have seemed to have taken sides more obviously now and it’s looking more violent than teasing than it was a couple of minutes ago.
Just as Stiles starts to think about getting up and putting an end to it himself, Derek roars. He roars so loud that Stiles has to cover his ears. He can feel the reverberation through the metal framework of his car jolting his body into a startled jump. The betas all stop, but then Scott starts to giggle, and Erica snorts and tries to hide it at least. The others are standing there shocked and bemused all at once. Except for Isaac who cowers into a ball on the ground - a normal reaction to what Stiles would bet had to have been the loudest roar in the history of alpha werewolf roars.
Derek stays in his leaned forward split stance position, shifted and eyes glowing a deep ruby red and, hell, does he look threatening. And he should be threatening to the betas too… but all they can do is laugh? And they are all full-blown, grab your stomachs, bent over, belly laughing.
“Dude, we have seen you in tears, you are so not scary right now,” Scott says dramatically wiping the tears from his face.
Stiles' jaw drops. That was rude, especially for Scott.
Derek stands up straight, his eyes never leaving Scott’s. Isaac stands up and stomps on Erica’s foot in order to shut her up and it works.
Scott looks as if he’s about to make another smartass comment but seems to think better of it, finally .
Derek shifts back, and barks, “there are five items of Stiles’ scattered throughout the reserve. Find them. Peter runs the rest of training,” and storms inside, slamming the door hard behind him.
The betas all stand there unmoving as Peter stands up and brushes the dirt off of himself.
“Make sure you bring them all back in one piece! I like them how they are!” Stiles hollas. Peter glanced at Stiles and they shared a look. His face says it all. The betas are in for a world of hurt.
“NOW!” Peter roars and they all, for the second time within the hour, sprint and scatter themselves deep into the woods.
Stiles slides off of the hood and stuffs his hands in his pockets and casually makes his way up the porch steps and lets himself into the house. He makes sure to shut the door gently behind himself and mentally apologises to it for Derek’s rough behaviour.
The house is silent and Derek is nowhere in sight. The living room to his left is bare and a quick peek to his right around the staircase and the corridor to the kitchen is clear too. He heads straight ahead and up the stairs towards the bedrooms.
The stairs creaking ever so slightly, the foundation still a little unsturdy even after refurbishment, would alert Derek that someone was approaching. That is, if he hadn’t already heard Stiles enter the house. He stops at the top and listens. He can hear the faintest of howls outside but mostly he can hear rummaging to the left hallway towards Derek’s room. The top of the stairs split into two; the left had the master bedroom at the very end, two standard sized rooms and one bathroom; and the right side had another bathroom and two more standard bedrooms and the end is a small library. When Derek and Peter refurbished the house, Derek had taken his parents bedroom as it was bigger and had its own small bathroom and a walk through wardrobe behind the wall the bed was set against. Derek’s old room which was the first door at the beginning of the hallway to the left of the stairs now belong’s to Peter and directly next to Peter was Isaac’s room which used to belong to Laura. Cora’s room was in the other hallway, now one of the spare rooms.
Stiles proceeds to Derek’s room and stops in front of the closed door, knocking gently. The rummaging halts and after a moment the handle twists and the door opens slightly. Stiles hesitantly pushes it completely open and shuts it again behind him. To the right of the door, Derek is shirtless and shoeless bent over his dresser rifling through everything, shirts and socks and underwear spewing over the sides and scattered on the floor by his feet.
Stiles allows his eyes to glide down his figure briefly, mesmerised by the way Derek’s muscles dance under his skin every time he moves, then shakes his thoughts away.
“What?” Derek doesn’t turn around but the tension in his shoulders and upper back expresses his frustration more than his tone ever could.
“Hey, don’t snap at me. I am the good guy here!”
Derek relaxes a little and stops what he’s doing to peek over his shoulder, “sorry,” he whispers before continuing his search.
Stiles walks further into the room and takes a seat on the foot of the bed glancing around. Derek has left his room mostly bare. There is no splash of colour on his walls or even on his bed set. The curtains that are draped open are a deep black matching the dresser which is situated to the right of the door and the doors to the en-suite are also black. Aside from a couple of frames of barely salvageable, charcoal dusted family pictures, he doesn’t really have much going on. The coolest part was the walk in wardrobe. The wall at the back of the room had an entryway which revealed an open wardrobe. His sweaters and jackets hung up on the built-in rack and his boots on the floor below but then and even that was bare. There were less than ten pieces of clothing total hung up on the room length pole. At the end of the wardrobe, there was a custom made shelving unit which held some books Stiles had seen Derek reading and a fixed nook under a smaller window overlooking the dirt road blocked by more black curtains.
Derek bawls up a set of clothes in his hands, half shuts the drawers and kicks his clothes on the floor to one pile before joining Stiles at the end of the bed. He doesn’t say anything, just slouches and stares at the faded black material in his lap.
Stiles nudges Derek’s shoulder with his own gently, “if it makes you feel any better, I also think Scott is an ass…”
Derek huffs.
Stiles glances at his distant expression, frustration has worn his brows into more of a slumped sadness than anger now. His head is held low and his features are less tight, the faintest sight of a half smile disappearing into a scowl.
“Do you wanna get out of here? Or just hang out here? Or be left alone. I can leave you alone if you want to b-”
“No. Here is fine,” Derek cuts off.
Stiles nods and Derek stands up, presumably to take a shower considering he is covered in blood and sweat…
Stiles kicks his own shoes off and shuffles back to the head of the bed. He stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankle and pulls his phone back out of his pocket. He aimlessly scrolls through Twitter until Derek emerges a bit later; barefoot, in a pair of dark blue jeans, and a shirt that used to be black but is now a dark-washed grey. His hair is damp and dangles in wet dreadlocks over his forehead only just reaching his eyes and lacking all its usual swept back volume.
He heads over to the dresser and neatly places all the floor clothes back into their neatly folded position in the drawers. And seriously who even has a dresser when there’s a walk in wardrobe? Then Stiles kicks himself mentally because maybe it was moved in from his old room. Maybe his parents got it for him and it’s one of the only things that survived the fire. The remaining shirt is a shaggy stringed mess of bloodied fabric that Derek picks up and dangles it by what presumably used to be a sleeve.
“Hungry?” He asks, opening the door, not turning around to check if Stiles is following.
Stiles nods and pushes himself up. He slides his shoes back on and follows Derek downstairs and into the kitchen.
As they enter the room, Derek throws the shirt into the trash and Stiles jumps up onto the bench, swinging his legs in front of him. Derek assembles some ingredients from the fridge; ham, cheese, tomato, butter, and a loaf of bread and places them on the counter next to Stiles along with a cutting board and some knives. He slaps together two sandwiches and hands a plate to Stiles who rests it in his laps to catch any crumbs, Derek leaning over the bench next to him eating over the cutting board.
Neither of them say anything. Derek seems quieter than usual and Stiles lets them both live in their thoughts for now. Even when he finishes eating, Derek continues to lean against the counter and stare out the window. The five pm sun casts a beautiful golden glow into the woods and if you focus hard enough you can hear the faint chirp of the bats waking up for the night and the final sing-song of all the birds.
Becoming bored, Stiles kicks out and jumps off the bench and collects his plate and all the utensils Derek used and places them in the sink. He washes them up quickly and grabs two glasses from one of the cupboards and fills them with water from the tap. He hands one glass to Derek who has turned around; his hip now leaning against the counter and is watching Stiles.
“What?” Stiles frowns.
Derek shrugs and takes a sip mimicking Stiles, “you’re comfortable here…” he said into his glass. It was a simple observation though it was said so quietly Stiles wasn’t quite sure how to take it. He looks around. He knows where most things are now… pots are in the cupboard next to the sink, pans in the drawers under the plates, containers and cups scattered throughout different cupboards. He could run to the laundry and grab a towel without direction. They’re friends. He could walk into Scott’s house unannounced and know where everything is too, much to Melissa’s faux dismay. It’s the same here now that he’s thinking about it. He could probably go through Derek’s drawer and find his favourite pair of socks if asked. That’s weird, he thought to himself inwardly cringing.
“Do you not want me to be…?” Stiles asked tentatively.
Derek raises an eyebrow at him and thinks about it a little too long for Stiles’ comfort, “I wouldn’t let you over if I didn’t want you to be,” he finally says and pushes himself off the bench and makes his way to the front of the house.
Stiles nods to himself, places his empty glass next to Derek’s and follows him outside. They sit on the floor of the porch, leaning against the house next to the wide open door. Stiles’ legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles and Derek’s crisscrossed, knees slightly resting on Stiles’ thigh. Peter is still in the front yard but the only beta who has returned is Scott with Stiles’ black avengers shirt. Peter has him doing push-ups and Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed.
Derek leans into Stiles a bit so that their shoulders are touching now. Stiles is increasingly becoming very aware of the warmth radiating off of Derek and the increase in the beat of his heart. He tries not to think about the fact that Derek can definitely hear it too.
Jackson and Boyd return next with a pair of Stiles' favourite black converse and another shirt he can’t recognise from this distance. Peter grabs the items from them and orders them to join Scott on the ground.
“I don’t like him, but right now, I think I may be a little in love with him,” Stiles claims as they watch Erica and Isaac return and hand over some more items; a pair of socks and another shirt.
Derek suppresses a choked laugh, “first to drop washes our cars.”
Stiles looks at him questioningly.
“That’s what he told them,” Derek adds.
Stiles smirks, genius , and looks to Scott who has been going at it longer than any of them and is still keeping up a steady pace, “yep, I definitely love him.”
Derek chuckles, “he’d make them do it too.”
And Stiles does too. They watch as Peter continues to bark at the betas like a commanding officer. He is totally enjoying it .
“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Stiles breaks the silence.
“Would saying no stop you?” Derek retorts. Neither of them take their eyes off of the group in front of them.
“Yeah.”
Derek doesn’t answer so Stiles takes that as a no and drops it. It’s not intrusive… at least he doesn’t think so. He’s definitely asked worse questions. He’s definitely asked a lot more personal questions that’s for sure. This one may just be a little more sensitive than most.
“Yes,” Derek breaks his train of thought.
Stiles looks at him confused and Derek returns the glance with raised eyebrows clearly amused. Just as Stiles is about to ask him ‘what’ he remembers, “Oh! Okay,” and takes a minute to word it rather than just blurt it out.
“You killed him…”
Derek nods as Stiles gathers the rest of the words together in his mind. There really is no way of asking this without being insensitive. He just hopes Derek understands it’s not meant to sound it though…
“Why is he- Why do you let him… live with you?” And he cringes at himself. Because now that he says it out loud it’s so stupid and none of his business and Derek is silent so he obviously doesn’t want to answer.
Stiles looks over at him tentatively and Derek shrugs, “I’m all he has.”
Stiles nods and looks away, but he can’t help the small smile that creeps up on him at the phrasing of words. Derek could have just as easily said ‘ he’s all I have’, but no.
“Before the fire… I was always a quiet kid…” and he trails off.
Stiles nudges his shoulder teasingly, “you? No way!”
Derek chuckles, “Peter seemed to understand. I never had to say anything. He always… just knew.”
Stiles takes it in. And it sounds so cryptic. He could be talking about anything. But Stiles does understand. Because the two of them seem to have an excellent non verbal understanding of each other also. Stiles can quite easily read Derek’s expressions and they way he holds himself and Derek is pretty good at doing the same with him.
He looks back to Peter and struggles to see him looking at a small Derek-child and being intuitive and thoughtful enough to understand anything.
Derek seems to catch onto his thoughts, “he wasn’t always like this you know,” Derek nudges Stiles shoulder again but there’s an edge to his voice and the sentence basically finishes itself; I wasn’t always like this. And Stiles does know. Losing his mother changed him. He couldn’t imagine if he lost his entire family. How would that have changed him then?
Stiles nods and their attention is drawn back to the yard where Peter congratulates Scott on being the loser. He is face down on the ground, his arms spread out to his side. Stiles and Derek laugh quietly to themselves as they watch Scott try and argue with Peter who lifts him off of the ground by his shirt and shoves him in the direction of the garage. Stiles laughs again because it’s just too good. Peter is actually making him wash their cars. Scott groans and complains but complies nevertheless; trotting off to the garage and returning moments later with a bucket full of soapy water, a couple of sponges, and the hose. Stiles chuckles again. He is not gonna let him live this down.
While Scott is off doing that, Peter has the others doing other exercises as if he’s a PT and it’s amazing. Stiles and Derek watch in amusement. Every time one of the them complains or so much as rolls their eyes or sighs too loud, Peter makes them run. It truly is beautifully evil.
They sit in silence for a while watching the torture play out until Stiles notices that Derek is fidgeting. Derek. Fidgeting. Which is weird. He starts with picking at the skin around fingers to cracking his knuckles and back to picking his fingers before Stiles places a hand over his. Derek freezes and Stiles tries not to panic. Instead he asks, “you good?”
“Yeah,” Derek whispers.
Stiles gives his hands a squeeze before returning them back to his own lap. Stiles can’t help the smile that creeps up his face and the way his heart thumps in his chest as he feels the weight of Derek’s head rest on Stiles’ shoulder.
“Do you want me to whack him? Or fight him? Publicly shame him? Put him in his place? Because I’ll totally do it!”
Derek chuckles and Stiles does too. After a moment Derek says, “no… it’s fine.”
“Derek, it was not fine!” Stiles grits out harsher than he means to. He sighs and leans his head back against the wall, Derek’s still on his shoulder. It’s not fair, the way he's been treated; not only by the pack who don’t seem to respect him as they should, but by the public as well… ever since the fire. Well… Stiles doesn’t quite know for sure if it goes back that far but he wouldn't be surprised if he did. Considering he had heard rumours about him himself before they had even met. People whisper and talk about him. He’s seen them cross the street and avoid all eye contact. It’s not fair. He is a good person. He deserves good things.
Stiles brings his attention back to Derek’s head on his shoulder, and the feeling is heavy, and warm, and grounding.
He takes a deep breath in then out and forces himself to relax. They sit there like this until Peter has had enough which coincidentally is about the time Scott is finished with their cars.
When Peter makes his way back towards the house, Derek sits back up and Stiles misses their touch already. Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Jackson gather Stiles' stuff and follow behind.
“You’re welcome,” Peter says as he walks past the two and into the house.
“Never. Again,” Isaac exhausts, slumping into the porch steps, dropping Stiles’ clothes to the ground.
“Hey, come on, be nice to Stiles’ stuff,” he exclaims as he makes grabby hands in the direction of Isaac and his shirt.
Isaac picks it up and throws it at him as Jackson and Boyd drop the shoes by Stiles’ feet in silence, and leave in Jackson’s car together.
Stiles watches in fascination as they drive off, distracting him from being cranky about everyone manhandling his things because, since when were they close . Erica ruffles Isaacs hair as she walks up, snatches her keys off the windowsill, and stalks off to her car, also not saying a word, leaving the three of them.
They watch as Scott packs up the sponges and the buckets and the hose, and Isaac laughs, “I can’t believe Peter actually made him do that!”
“I know right!” Stiles exclaims excitedly.
Isaac’s chuckle turns into a groan as he pushes himself off and down the steps and half limps around to the side of the house in the direction of the garage. When Isaac is out of view, Derek lays his head back down on Stiles’ shoulder. His breath catches and his heart blips and Derek happens to chuckle softly right afterwards.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Derek asks gingerly.
“Absolutely nothing,” Stiles sighs knowing full well he has about four assignments he has not yet started.
Derek snickers again, “can I pick you up from school?”
“Yeah! We hanging out!?”
Derek nods, “if you want…”
“Yes! I want.”
“Okay.”
And they sit like this again until Scott and Isaac walk into view. Derek sits back up straight before Scott looks up at Stiles expectantly. Stiles sighs and stands up, Derek following suit.
“See you tomorrow,” he says and turns to leave. Isaac says goodbye to Scott, and Stiles nods at him as they walk by each other. As they walk their short journey to the Jeep, Scott starts to complain about the session. Stiles groans aggressively and ignores Scott’s exasperation. He complains about Derek and Peter the whole. entire. drive. home.
Tomorrow
The bell rings signalling the end of school and Stiles is embarrassed for himself with how fast he gathers his papers and notebook and pens into a messy pile and shoves it into his bag, nearly tipping the desk forwards as he stands up. He’s scolded by his teacher on his exit from the classroom and he brushes it off with a chuckle and a wave goodbye before he all but jogs to the doors to the car park. He can’t help the disappointment that creeps up from his stomach when he finds Scott waiting for him just outside. Neither of them wound up in detention today and there’s no Lacrosse practice and Alison is still not talking to Scott so they both have the afternoon free. He internally groans because he was hoping to avoid Scott so he didn’t have to tell him he had plans that did not involve him. And not because he’s embarrassed or ashamed, but because he really could not think of anything worse than listening to Scott complain about Derek again. And mostly because he knew what his reaction would be; he’ll roll his eyes and ask “really? Why?” and Stiles is really not in the mood to put up with it. So he goes with the ‘pretend you did not see him and walk right past’ trick. It doesn’t work.
“Hey, wait up!” Scott calls as he jogs over and walks alongside Stiles.
“You walked right past me, Stiles, is everything okay?”
Stiles feigns surprise, “Oh hey, sorry Scott, I didn’t even see you…”
Scott looks at him inquisitively but chooses to ignore it, “any chance you could give me a lift? I got a flat this morning and I don’t have my pump?”
They stop walking as they reach the edge of the bike rack, standing next to what is a very flat tire on the back of Scott’s bicycle.
Stiles scratches the back of his head looking around, not yet spotting the Camaro, “uhhh… I didn’t drive today…”
Scott looks at him confused then looks around, probably making sure the Jeep really isn’t here, “how did you get here, then? How are you getting home?”
Stiles grabs onto the front of his bag straps and flickers between Scott’s stupidly confused face and looking for any signs of Derek, “my dad dropped me off… and Derek is picking me up.”
“What’s wrong with your Jeep?” Scott asks and damn is this dude naive. After yesterday he had had enough.
Stiles frowns at him, “Dude, nothing is wrong with it, we’re hanging out,” he says as he spots Derek pulling into the parking lot.
“You’re hanging out with Derek?” Scott asks as if Stiles had just told him that his mother was dating Mr. Harris.
Stiles rolls his eyes, “yes, I am hanging out with Derek.”
Scott seems to consider this for a second and Stiles is genuinely shocked when Scott asks, “do you think he’d drop me home!”
Stiles scoffs. Derek cannot pull up fast enough . He was about half way there now. But still so far away.
“Well would he?” Scott presses.
“Yeah Scott. He probably would.”
“Awesome! Thanks, Stil-”
“No,” Stiles cuts him off right as Derek is rolling to a stop in front of them.
“What? No, what?” Scott asks, walking towards the car with him.
Stiles cuts in front of him, turns, and places a hand on his chest to stop him, “no,” Stiles shrugs and removes his hand, “I’m not asking, he’s not driving you.”
Stiles feels a little bad at the satisfaction he feels when Scott looks a little bit hurt at that.
“But you just sai-”
“I know what I said. I said he probably would. Meaning that if I were to ask him- hell, even if you were to ask him, he’d say yes. Do you know why he would do that? Do you know why he would drop your selfish ass home? Even with that way you treat him?”
Scott stands there in shocked silence, Stiles looks at him with raised eyebrows expectantly. But all Scott can do is stand and stare.
“Because he’s nice like that. Polite one would say. But no. No, I’m not asking, and no, you may not ask either. Why is it you are only nice to him when you want something?” Stiles crosses his arms now, ignoring the honking of the horn behind him.
“I’m not-”
“Yesterday, what was it you said to him again?” Stiles cuts of pretending to be deep in thought retrieval.
Scott slumps and averts his gaze when Stiles looks back at him, eyebrows taught.
“And how about when you said Kate Argent must have had a good reason for-”
“I didn’t mean that!” Scott yells over top of Stiles.
“What about-”
“Did he send you to tell me off!” Scott gets in his face and Stiles pushes him backwards in retaliation.
“No actually, he told me to leave it alone. I’m just the kind of person who stands up for my friends.”
“What about me?”
Stiles laughs, “what about you?”
“The way you’re yelling at me now. It’s embarrassing Stiles.
“Oh my god. This is not about you, Scott. I am not yelling; I am merely expressing passionately. And you should be embarrassed. You and every other person in this town is unfairly pejorative towards him and sue me for letting it get on my nerves. I don’t care if you don’t like him, God, I don’t even care if you hate him, but do you have a reason to be a constant dick towards him?” Scott is silent again and Derek honks, once again. Stiles turns around and waves him off.
“Dude, I love you. You are my brother. And as your brother, it is my responsibility to tell you to do better. You need to be okay with me being friends with him, because I am not dumping him anytime soon.”
Scott frowns at him; probably at his choice of words.
Stiles waves it off, “you know what I mean,” and heads towards the car.
“Good luck with the flat,” Stiles calls out as he climbs onto the car.
As soon as the door is closed and before he can even get situated into the seat and buckle up his seatbelt, Derek speeds off and Stiles is thrusted back into the seat, “woah, Derek,” he gasps a little panicked and a lot startled.
“I told you it was fine!” Derek yells into his dashboard. His eyebrows pinched and jaw hard, and yep he’s pissed.
“And I told you it was not!” Stiles retorts.
Derek clenches his jaw tighter, not taking his eyes off the road. His knuckles were holding on to the wheel so tight, Stiles thought he might leave indents.
“If you’re not going to say anything to him, that’s your business. But if he says something to me, I sure as hell am going to say something to him. And I’m not going to apologise for that either so don’t be expecting that.”
Derek takes a moment before he nods really stiffly. His mouth opens slightly then he clenches his jaw shut as if he wants to say more but can’t quite get the words out. When they stop at the red light, Derek takes his hands off the wheel and straightens his fingers out then scrunching them and repeats this a couple of times. He wipes his hands on his thighs before placing them back on the steering wheel, this time, without the death grip.
“So what’s the plan?” Stiles asks, breaking the silence.
Derek frowns at the road again but doesn’t reply. Stiles glances at him and resists the urge to reach out, “we don’t have to have a plan. I’m just asking if you have one.
Derek shakes his head and relaxes a little.
“Well I have a bit of homework to do. It shouldn’t take more than 20 minutes, but after that I’m good with playing video games or terrorising Peter if you want to hang out at your place. I’m good. I’m very good. I’m great in fact. Fantastic even!”
Derek side-eyes him, raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Is your dad okay with me being over?”
“I don’t think he really cares. Besides, he’ll probably still be at work. I dunno. If you want I can text and ask him?”
Derek nods.
“We have left over pizza too so eating the rest of that is a must!”
“Is that so your dad doesn’t eat it!” He chuckles.
“Maybe…”
When they arrive at Stiles’ place, the cruiser isn’t in the driveway and Stiles does a small mental victory dance. His dad hadn’t replied to his text so he assumed he was still at work anyway.
Derek parks behind the Jeep allowing plenty of room for Stiles’ dad to pull up beside them. They head inside, Stiles’ grabbing the box out of the fridge, and plops everything onto the dining table, the pizza in the middle.
“I have ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ in my bag if you wanna read it?” Stiles offers, pulling the raggedy old book out and dropping it in front of Derek, “just don’t get pizza grease on it.”
“Thank you,” Derek picks up the book and starts reading it even though Stiles is about 99 percent sure he has read it before.
He hides the smile he feels attacking his face by ripping the paperwork out of his backpack and slapping it on the table. Chemistry and algebra, blekgh . The two worst subjects to have for homework in Stiles’ opinion.
He works in silence; aside from the sound of his pencil scribbling away, the occasional turn of the page, and chewing of pizza. Halfway through his chemistry he gets stuck on a question and becomes a little frustrated but Derek takes his time to explain it to him. He had to repeat himself a couple of times because all Stiles could think was holy crap Derek is so smart . His brain would not allow him to process anything else.
“… and that’s how I found out unicorns taste like chicken,” snaps Stiles right out of it.
“Wait what? You ate a unicorn?”
Derek laughs, “no you idiot, unicorns don’t exist.”
“Oh… right,” and Stiles sighs and drops his head to the table a little harder than he intended.
“Maybe you should take a break?” Derek suggests leaning back into his seat, book on the table, his thumb holding the page where he’s up to, and damn he read a lot in such a short time. He’s already a third of the way through the book!
Stiles looks up at him incredulously, “a break!? I haven’t even been doing this for ten minutes!”
Derek raises an eyebrow at him and checks his watch, “Stiles, you’ve been working for an hour and 15 minutes now.”
Stiles, shocked, reaches for his phone and taps the screen awake, and sure enough, Derek is right. He looks to Derek and to the book and back to his work. He flips through the pages and yep, that looks about right .
“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean- It was- I’m just-”
“Why are you apologising?” Derek’s chuckle cuts off his rambling.
“Because we’re supposed to be hanging out! I said it’ll take like 20 minutes! Why didn’t you say anything!?”
Derek shrugs, “I don’t mind. And school comes first. Are we not hanging out right now?”
“You sound like my dad,” Stiles mumbles under his breath as he packs his stuff up and shoves it all into his bag. There are two slices of pizza left, and Stiles takes the biggest slice first and devours it before picking up the last slice as his dad enters the house.
“That better not be my pizza you boys are eating,” he greets.
“Hello to you too father,” Stiles greets with his mouth full.
“Afternoon…” Derek greets, his face a light shade of pink.
“Stiles, you ate the one thing that got me through the day,” he sighs, emptying his pockets on the kitchen countertop.
“Coincidentally, I also ate the one thing that got me through the day. And ouch! Why is seeing me not the one thing that gets you through the day?” Stiles flails his arms, gesturing to himself.
Stiles’ dad looks at him with a raised eyebrow, “do you want an honest answer?”
Stiles frowns and slumps on his seat and eats the last couple of bites of his pizza. His dad chuckles and ruffles his hair as he walks past, “hello, Derek.”
“Hi, sir,” Derek replies as Stiles’ dad heads upstairs.
Stiles kicks him, gently, and frowns at him.
“What?” Derek asks innocently.
“ ‘Hi, sir’ , how old are you?”
Derek flushes again and looks away from Stiles.
“Just teasing!” And shoves the last bite into his mouth.
“Okay!” Stiles shoots up out of his seat and says, “Let’s a-go,” in a Mario mocking accent and skips to the TV and drops down to the floor in front of it, Derek slowly walking over and standing behind him.
“What gaaaaaaaame?” He asks dragging it out as he rummages through the cabinet trying to find Mario Kart already knowing what Derek’s answer would be.
“Mario Kart was fun…” Derek says turning around and taking a seat on the couch.
“Mario Kart it is!” Stiles grabs the game and puts it into the Wii and sets up the rest of the TV before grabbing the controllers and falling into the couch on the opposite side to Derek, a whole seat free in between them. He kicks his shoes off and pulls his legs up, crossing them. He thinks back to Scott sitting like this the other day and thanks him mentally because this is actually pretty comfortable.
“Do you remember how to play?” Stiles asks, handing him one of the remotes.
“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” Derek smirks.
“Alrighty then,” and sets it up to play.
As predicted, Derek did not remember. When the clock finishes counting down, Derek starts to reverse on the whistle instead of driving. Stiles has a giggle at the, “whoops,” Derek mutters as he corrects it. Somewhere in the last lap, Stiles dad joins them, taking a seat on the single recliner. He was freshly showered, in a plain white t-shirt, and grey sweats, a newspaper in his hands.
“Yes!” Stiles cheers as he crosses the finish line in first place, “wanna play with us, dad!” He asks, watching Derek fumble his way through the last lap.
“I’m good, thank you,” he replies, not taking his eyes off his paper.
“Don't feel embarrassed, you can’t be any worse than Derek here.”
Just as Stiles says that, Derek hits a wall, gets hit with a green shell, and runs into a bomb, all one after another.
Stiles and his dad laugh as Derek frowns at the screen holding his remote out further as if it’ll make him move better. He eventually makes his way over the finish line coming second last surprisingly and they play again, and again, and again.
Some time passes and they are on what is decidedly their last race. This time, Stiles is not doing so well. He has been hit with four blue shells, and has lost count how many times he has been hit with the red ones. That’s not even the worst part. The worst part is; Derek is second and the reason for most of the hits. They are near the end of the final lap and Stiles receives another blue shell right before the finish line.
“Nonononono,” he shouts, pressing the buttons even harder in hopes he will make it over in time but he doesn’t. He is hit just before it. And what’s worse is Derek has figured out that if he brakes and backs off a little he doesn’t get spin out from the explosion. Stiles is only just starting back up as Derek flies past him and comes first. Both Derek and Stiles’ dad cheer and Stiles can’t help but laugh. Stiles’ dad reaches over and offers Derek a high five. It’s a proudly shattering moment in Stiles’ Mario Kart career but he doesn’t care because the way he and his dad are teasing him together gives him butterflies.
Once they all settle down, Derek smirks at Stiles and he can’t help but smile and laugh back at him.
At that moment, Stiles’ dad gets up then, “are you staying for dinner, Derek?” And heads into the kitchen.
“No, thank you, sir. I should, get going, actually…”
“Yeah, take your victory while you can,” Stiles mumbles and gets up and kneels in front of the TV to pack up.
Derek gets up and follows him, he leans over him and whispers in his ear, “that’s the plan,” and reaches over Stiles, his arm brushing his shoulder as he places his controller in the cabinet.
Stiles freezes and holds his breath. He can feel the warmth radiating off of Derek. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat.
Derek chuckles as he stands back up. Stiles feels his face burn as he reminds himself to breathe. Is Derek doing this on purpose? In. And out. Then stands up and walks Derek out.
“Goodbye, sir. Thank you for having me,” he says as they walk out the door.
Stiles rolls his eyes, “just call him by his name you dork,” and places a hand on his back and pushes him gently the rest of the way out of the door.
“Anytime, Derek,” his father calls back, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Stiles drops his hand because holy hell that man is ripped. He can feel his muscles twitch and shift even as he walks and turns around to whisper yell at Stiles, “well, what does Scott call him?”
Stiles scoffs at him, “dad,” and laughs as Derek tries to hide his reddening face.
Stiles claps him on the shoulder and Derek glares at him. There’s no heat to it though because he is trying not to smile. He looks ridiculous and Stiles can help but laugh at him. Derek shakes his head and finally gives in to it.
“Look who’s not such a sour wolf,” and pulls Derek into a hug. He’s stiff for a second before he melts into it, chucking softly into Stiles’ neck, his breath sending goosebumps down Stiles’ arms.
“Thanks,” Derek whispers before pulling away and heads to his car. Stiles watches and waves as he drives away and heads back inside, helping his dad prep for dinner.
Stiles sits at the countertop stool, opposite his father, and takes over chopping vegetables.
“Should I expect to see more of Derek?” He asks carefully.
Stiles pauses for a second before slowly continuing chopping, “…would it be okay if I said yes?” Stiles replies timidly.
“Yes,” his dad replies automatically.
Stiles nods, “then yes.”
Stiles' dad nodded too, “then please get him to call me John. Or at the very least Mr Stilinski. Or Chief even. God. ‘Sir’ makes me feel so old.”
Stiles laughs at that, “I already did.”
“Good. Now finish that and help me over here,” he replies, gesturing to the pots on the stove. Stiles complies, he feels nervous, and excited, and a little bit sick at his father being okay with Derek being around. How times have changed.