Purple Faux Hawk

He thought he could slot back into the pack. Rejoin his friends, take back his place as the brains to their brawn (ok, that's unfair, they aren't exactly stupid. mostly. but brains is the only thing he's got going for him, he's ok relying on that being the one thing he's accepted for).

But half the pack haven't come back after college. The half that are still here...they're new. People he doesn't know. People Scott has collected on his travels. Scott is barely here and Derek seems to be running the pack in his absence which is fine, it's good, great actually, Derek has grown into a strong leader.

The only problem is that Derek hates him.

At least that's what Stiles assumes.

The first time he didn't think much of it. He walked into the pack meeting and Derek immediately left. Ok, fine, shit happens. The second time, Derek's excuse was weak. The third time, he didn't even bother making an excuse.

By the fourth time, Stiles has well and truly gotten the hint.

He isn't welcome here.

He isn't part of the pack.

He doesn't have a place.

He doesn't fit.

*

He hangs around at home more after that. He doesn't go to the meetings. He spends his time holed up in his teenage bedroom with his laptop, his resume and a search engine.

And then, one day, a few weeks later, he emerges, stomps down the stairs and announces to his dad that he has a job lined up in Boston and he'll be leaving next week.

Noah runs a weary hand across his face. "Ok, kid, whatever works for you. Wanna tell me about it?"

"It's a legal firm," Stiles says, knowing his dad doesn't really mean the job. "They're hiring an investigator. It's a good opportunity."

"I thought you wanted to stay here. Help the pack."

"So did I."

"What changed?"

Stiles shrugs. He doesn't have an answer. At least not one he wants to give. I'm in love with a werewolf who hates me and I can't be around him isn't a conversation he wants to get into.

Noah lets it drop.

*

"Stiles is leaving," he says to Peter. They're lying there, in the dark of Peter's apartment, afterwards, and it seems like the sort of thing he should tell his partner about but somehow it comes out sounding like a plea for help.

Peter, to his credit, doesn't make a snarky comment of the type he's known for. "Did he say why?"

"Nope. He seems off. Shut down. He hasn't been spending much time with the pack since he came home and now he's found a job in Boston. He leaves next week."

Peter growls quietly. "Derek."

"Derek? What's he done? If he's hurt my son -" Noah sits up and Peter pulls him back down.

"I know. If he's hurt Stiles, you'll hurt him. He hasn't. Not in the way you think. Just leave it to me."

Noah nods and settles back down; allows Peter soothe away the worry and the knots in his shoulders with his long, clever fingers.

It's all he can do for now.

*

"It's your fault, you know," Peter tells Derek. He's cornered him, very literally, in the loft, and he has no intention of pulling his punches because a) Stiles is a valuable member of the pack, b) Peter quite likes Stiles and c) Peter doesn't want a moping boyfriend and Noah will definitely be moping if Stiles leaves. His motives are not entirely altruistic.

Derek sighs dramatically and knits his eyebrows together. "What's my fault this time?"

"Stiles."

"Stiles?"

"Stiles."

Derek swallows. "Are you just going to keep repeating his name or are you going to tell me what I'm supposed to have done?" he says, though he thinks he knows why this conversation is happening.

"He's leaving," Peter says. "He has a job in Boston and he's leaving next week."

Derek stops breathing. Stiles is leaving. It's for the best but it still hurts enough to cause a physical pain in his chest.

"You're going to lose him forever. We all are. If he leaves now, he won't come back, Derek. You need to sort this out."

"I can't sort it out."

Peter rolls his eyes in the patented Hale way. "Why? What, exactly, is the problem? Why, precisely, do you keep leaving the room the moment he walks in? You aren't subtle, Derek. He's noticed. We've all noticed."

Derek swallows again. "I can't be around him."

"Yes, I gathered that. I asked why."

"Because," Derek says petulantly. He's not enjoying this conversation and he's especially not enjoying the lack of escape routes. His eyes dart around and he wonders how fast he would have to run at the window to be able to defenestrate himself. Or, alternatively, how hard he would have to throw Peter in order to defenestrate him instead.

"That's a great answer, Derek. Really informative. Tells me everything I need to know. Because. Why didn't I think of that? Of course that's the reason."

"Shut up."

"No."

Derek sighs dramatically. There is no escape and maybe if he just tells the truth, his uncle will back down and Derek can get back to avoiding his problems until they go away. Very literally in this case.

(oh god but that hurts to think about)

"He's my mate," he says after a moment.

Peter laughs. Derek scowls.

"Is that all?" Peter says.

Derek scowls some more.

"It is, isn't it? Stiles is your mate and you're avoiding him because...?"

"Because what am I supposed to say? Oh hi Stiles, you're my mate, sorry that means you're stuck with me now even though you haven't consented to any of this and you can't leave because being apart from you causes me a - a -" Derek swallows. "Physical pain," he finishes quietly.

"You're an idiot."

"Shut up."

"No. You're an idiot."

"Why?" Derek growls, eyes flashing blue. "Because I won't manipulate him like that? Because I won't drag him into this whole mess? Because I won't take that agency away from him by telling him some supernatural force has decided we have to be together and it sucks but now we have to be, whether he wants to or not? What about any of that makes me an idiot?"

"Because," Peter growls, his eyes glowing blue as well, "you never understood. You didn't want to understand. You're so convinced that you're terrible and don't deserve a mate that you didn't bother to learn how it works. So you're an idiot."

"I understand enough."

"No!" Peter snarls. "You don't! The mate bond only works when the feelings are on both sides."

Derek's eyebrows go through an entire range of emotions. "What?" he says quietly, hardly daring to hope that Peter is right.

Peter rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically. "Somehow, Derek, that clever, bright spark of a human loves you back. If he didn't, you wouldn't feel the mate bond and you'd be suffering from some very boring, bog standard unrequited love of the sort that a thousand songs have been written about. So I suggest you pull your head out of your ass and go and talk to him. Using your grown up words. You cannot have this conversation with your eyebrows."

Derek thinks this is highly unfair but he nods and spends the rest of the day getting his head around the new information. He can't lose Stiles. He can't. And he'll do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn't happen.

Even if it does involve talking.

*

Stiles is home alone, spending the evening with a tub of Ben and Jerry's and a comfort movie, when there's a knock on the door. He ignores it. He isn't expecting anyone and it'll probably be someone selling something or someone asking if he's found god or some sort of annoyance he doesn't want to bother with. He has his evening planned out, thank you very much, and interruptions are highly unwelcome.

Then there's another, more insistent knock, so apparently whoever it is isn't keen on going away.

Stiles continues to ignore it.

Five minutes go by before there's another knock and this time Stiles pauses the movie, puts the ice cream on the coffee table and stomps his way to the door, yanking it open hard enough that it rattles on its hinges.

"No," he says and slams it closed again before he's even registered who it is.

"Stiles," Derek's voice comes through the door, muffled, given Stiles' lack of werewolf hearing. He can hear enough though. He can hear how there's a pleading note, a desperation in Derek's voice.

He yanks the door open again, not quite so hard this time. It squeaks a protest and then he's face to face with Derek who looks smaller and more open and more vulnerable than Stiles has ever seen him.

Stiles sighs. "What's happened now?" he says because something must have happened, someone's life must be in danger, or the world is about to end or something equally dramatic because that's the only reason Derek would have that kicked puppy expression on his face.

"Can we talk?"

Stiles resists the very tempting urge to snark or slam the door in Derek's face, or to leave completely, just to show Derek how it feels, and nods instead. He steps back from the door, closes it after Derek comes in, and goes back into the living room where he picks up his ice cream and starts eating it again. He does all of this without a word. He isn't planning on making this easy.

Derek lurks in the doorway and tries to ignore the stench of hurt coming from Stiles. It stings his nostrils and threatens to overwhelm him and it's all his fault. "I've been an idiot," he says, trying Peter's words. Which were, annoyingly, accurate.

"Try again," Stiles says between spoonfuls of ice cream.

"I've been an asshole," Derek tries.

"Better."

"I'm sorry, Stiles."

"Good, great, you're sorry, well done. Appreciate it. Go away now please."

Derek hesitates. He digs deep inside himself and resists the urge to run. He has to sort this out. He summons up every last ounce of courage he possesses and allows himself to be vulnerable. "Stiles, please. Let me explain," he says quietly.

Stiles waves the spoon in a carry on gesture.

Derek takes a deep breath. "You're my mate."

Stiles stares at him, a spoon of ice cream halfway to his mouth.

"It's a bond that ties us together. Sort of like a... supernatural arranged marriage. At least that's what I thought."

Stiles is still staring. Ice cream drips onto his hoodie.

"I don't -" Derek sighs. "I didn't like the idea of that. For you. Being stuck with me because of forces outside our control. While you were at college, I didn't have to worry about it. Then you came back. I couldn't face it. I couldn't face you. I thought if I kept that distance, you would never know and you'd be safe from it. From me."

Stiles keeps staring. Stiles.exe has ceased to operate. Please reboot. Rebooting seems to be taking a while.

"Peter came to see me earlier. He said you're leaving. We talked. Turns out that I -" Derek looks down, then back up "- was unclear about how the mating bond works. I knew that being apart from the mate causes a physical pain in the wolf. Here -" he taps his chest. "I knew that it ties us together forever. I didn't want you to be stuck with that. But Peter called me out, said I never bothered to learn because - anyway, he said the bond only works if - if both parties feel the same way about each other. Knowing that feels like an invasion in itself. That I wouldn't feel like this if you didn't too. I know how you feel without you telling me. I hate that. For you. Especially because you might not even know how you feel about me and -"

"I know," Stiles says, his voice sounding strangled. He clears his throat. "I know how I feel about you. I thought you knew, I thought you'd scent it, I thought you weren't interested. So I never said anything because I didn't want to lose our friendship. And then you started avoiding me and now..."

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Derek says quietly. "I really thought I was protecting you but now I realise I wasn't. So I'm sorry."

Stiles puts the mostly empty spoon in the tub of mostly melted ice cream. He stands up and brushes off the drips of ice cream that are staining his hoodie, which only has the effect of rubbing them into the material. He's going to have to wash it now. "This isn't how I pictured our first kiss," he says quietly, moving into Derek's space. "But I feel like it's right. After everything you said. Every love confession should end in a kiss, right? And I know it was hard for you but you did it anyway. For us."

Derek swallows and nods. "For us."

"Promise me two things first?"

"Anything."

"One, that you'll always communicate with me, even if it's just to say you need some space. Don't just disappear on me."

Derek nods. "I promise."

"Two, that we can take this slow. Forever with you sounds pretty fucking amazing but I'd like to start with dates and having fun and cuddling on the couch. I think you need that as much as I do."

"Slow sounds good to me," Derek says quietly. "You deserve better than rushing into this."

Stiles smiles wryly. "Back at ya, Sourwolf."

Derek laughs softly. "I'll tolerate Sourwolf as long as you don't call me dude."

"Whatever you say, dude," Stiles says, smirking as he leans in. "Can I kiss you now, Derek?"

Derek lets out a shaky breath and nods and then Stiles' lips are on his and it's everything he ever dreamed of and more. It's warm and sweet and full of words that neither of them are ready to say yet.

But they will say them. One day in the future, those words will be spoken. Neither has any doubt about that.

They're mates, after all.

*

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