#artemis69

----------------------------

 Derek pulled up to the curb out the front of Stiles’ house. He turned off the engine and stepped out of the car, making his way down the small footpath that led up to the front door.

He rang the doorbell, stepping back from the door and burying his hands in his pockets.

He felt his chest tense as his stomach twisted anxiously.

Why am I so nervous? he asked himself.

The front door opened and Derek turned to see Stiles standing in the doorway.

He was dressed in a pair of black dress pants that complimented his slim waist and a light grey button down shirt that was fitted to his broad shoulders and tucked into the hem of his pants, accentuating his slender but firm body.

Stiles looked from Derek’s face, down at himself and back again.

“Is it too much?” he asked.

Derek shook himself from his stupor. “No, you look great.”

Stiles smiled, his face lighting up and his citrine-brown eyes sparkling as he did.

Derek couldn’t help but smile back.

“We should get going,” Derek said softly, forcing himself to look away from Stiles.

Stiles nodded. He pulled the door shut behind himself, locking it before following Derek to the car.

He climbed into the passenger seat, fastening the seatbelt as Derek climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

The Camaro roared to life, the rumble of the engine filling Stiles’ chest as Derek pulled away from the curb and drove down the streets, towards the Hale house that sat on the outskirts of town.

Derek pulled up to the house, turning off the engine and letting the rumble of the Camaro die away into the evening air.

He stepped out of the car, waiting by the hood for Stiles.

“Are you sure about this?” Derek asked.

“Absolutely,” Stiles replied.

“If you want to back out or leave at any time—“

“Derek,” Stiles interrupted, his voice soft. “It’s going to be okay.”

Derek offered him a kind smile, pulling his hand out of his pocket and draping it around Stiles’ shoulders.

Stiles leant into Derek’s warmth, wrapping his arm around the man’s waist as they walked over to the front porch and up the steps that led to the front door.

Derek knocked at the door.

A moment later, the door opened and Laura’s friendly face appeared in the doorway. A bright smile lit her face as she looked at her brother.

She quickly ushered them in, closing the door and pulling her brother into a hug.

Derek hugged her back.

“It’s so good to see you, Der,” Laura said.

“You too, Laura,” Derek replied.

As they drew apart, Laura’s eyes drifted to Stiles.

“Hi,” she said, smiling brightly.

“This is Stiles,” Derek introduced him. “My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Laura repeated back to him, failing to hide her surprise.

“Who has a boyfriend?” Peter asked as he stepped out of the living room.

“Derek,” Laura answered.

Peter looked from Derek to Stiles, a look of confusion on his face.

“Stiles?” Peter asked, stunned. “You’re dating Stiles?”

“Yes,” Derek answered firmly, cutting off whatever smartass remark his uncle was about to make.

“Come on,” Laura said, waving them over towards the doorway. “Everyone’s in the living room.”

Laura and Peter led the way into the room.

Derek leant in close to Stiles and whispered, “I apologise in advance for everything that’s about to happen.”

Stiles let out a quiet chuckle, taking Derek’s hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s going to be alright,” Stiles promised.

They walked into the living room.

There was a fireplace built into the far wall, a glowing fire lighting the room and spreading warmth. The sound of the logs burning, crackling, and popping seemed to soothe Stiles. Above the fire place was an old hardwood mantle, worn and scarred. Old books with broken spines and fragile hard covers that had fallen apart over time sat atop the mantle with framed photos sitting either side; photos of the family grouped together and smiling radiantly, class photos of Laura, Derek and Cora from high school, of Derek’s dad holding one of them when they were a baby.

Cora sat in one of the arm chairs, stretched out with her legs hanging over one of the arm rests and her head resting against the other as she scrolled through her phone.

“Hi Stiles,” she greeted without looking up.

“Hi Cora,” He replied.

Peter sat himself down in the other armchair, slouching back against the back of the chair.

Talia sat at one end of the couch, her legs folded up beneath her. When she saw Derek, her face lit up. She rose from the seat and crossed the room to her son’s side, holding out her arms and pulling Derek into a warm hug.

She pulled back, cupping Derek’s face in her elegant hands and smiling at him fondly.

Derek forced a smile in return.

“You’ve grown your beard out more,” she said, gently cupping his cheek. “It looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” Derek said quietly. He cleared his throat, reaching behind him and taking Stiles’ hand, gently pulling him closer. “Mum, this is Stiles.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Stiles,” Talia said, smiling sweetly as she shook his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” Stiles replied.

“Only good things,” Talia reassured him. “But in all the time Derek talked about you, I never knew the two of you were together.”

“We wanted to keep it between ourselves for a little while,” Stiles said.

“I understand. I must apologise, I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“It was kind of a last minute decision,” Derek explained. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Talia said. “I’ll go lay an extra place at the table for you.”

Talia gave Derek a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

Derek let out a heavy sigh, pulling Stiles back against his chest and wrapping his arms around him.

Stiles let out a quiet laugh, falling back into Derek’s warmth. He lifted his hands to Derek’s forearms, holding onto them as he gently brushed the ball of his thumb across Derek’s tan skin.

Derek smiled sweetly, craning his neck to look at Stiles’.

Stiles turned his head and smiled up at Derek.

Derek felt his face flush with a bright red blush. He dropped his face into the curve of Stiles’ neck, nuzzling into his warmth as he tried to hide his bashfulness.

Stiles turned his head slightly.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Stiles whispered quietly enough that no one could hear.

  Dinner was when things got awkward; every conversation was quickly derailed and diverted towards Derek: nagging him about not visiting them, his reclusiveness, and his failed love life.

Derek sat there and took it all, staring down at his dinner plate as he tried to shut them out.

Stiles did his best to deflect the questions or change the topic.

That’s when the conversation turned into an interrogation of Stiles.

“Why are you dating him?” Cora asked bluntly.

Stiles nearly choked on his drink. He blinked in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“Cora,” Derek growled.

“Why are you dating Derek?” Cora repeated.

“You want to know why I’m dating your brother,” Stiles said, an upwards infliction of his voice making it sound like a question. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he looked at Cora.

“Yes,” Cora replied.

“Because I like him,” Stiles answered. “Because he’s an incredible man and – honestly – I don’t’ think I’d ever be able to explain how I feel about him in words. He’s kind and funny. He’s one of the few people that I feel like I can talk to. I can be myself around him, and he can be himself around me. Because… because I love him.”

Stiles looked at Derek, smiling sweetly as he met the man’s gaze.

A rosy blush coloured Derek’s cheeks as he smiled bashfully. He bowed his head slightly.

Stiles reached over, laying his hand atop of Derek’s—Derek gently squeezed it in return.

“I just… I want to spend forever with him,” Stiles said.

Cora shrugged slightly.

“I was just asking because Derek hasn’t exactly had the best taste in partners,” she said.

“Cora,” Laura said warningly, glaring at her little sister.

“What?” Cora said. “It’s true. Every person he’s ever dated has either abused him or cheated on him.”

“Cora, that’s enough,” Laura said firmly.

“I just want to make sure that Stiles isn’t like the others,” Cora argued.

Derek pulled his hand free of Stiles’ and slammed his hands down on the table, making everyone jump. He shoved his chair back as he rose to his feet.

“Stiles is not Kate!” Derek shouted. “Nor will he ever be anything like her.”

Everyone was stunned, looking at Derek in shock.

“I’m tired of you always bringing her up, always reminding me of what she did to me,” Derek continued. “That’s why I stay away. That’s why I hate coming to dinner or family events, because every time I do you always remind me of a part of my life that I’d rather forget.”

He drew in a deep breath, composing himself. He straightened up.

“Stiles is not Kate,” Derek said firmly before stepping away from the table and storming outside, the front door slamming shut behind him.

There was a moment of silence before Stiles slowly rose from his seat and followed after Derek.

Derek sat on the front step, hunched over as he drew in deep breaths, fighting back tears.

Stiles carefully shut the door behind him, stepping over to Derek’s side and sitting down next to him.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispered.

“It’s okay,” Stiles said softly.

“No,” Derek replied. “No, it’s not. I’ve never raised my voice, especially not at my family.”

“Sometimes you have to scream in order to be heard,” Stiles said.

Stiles reached out, gently setting his hand on Derek’s forearm.

Derek set his hand on top of Stiles’, and for a moment Stiles thought he was going to shove him away. But he didn’t, he held onto Stiles’ hand, letting the young man’s warmth comfort him.

Stiles leant against Derek’s side, resting his cheek on Derek’s shoulder.

Derek let out a heavy sigh, letting Stiles’ presence comfort him.

“It’s hard to heal when people keep reopening your wounds,” Stiles said quietly.

Derek sighed. “Even so, I shouldn’t have flown off the rails like that.”

“On the up side, maybe now they’ll finally stop bringing it up or trying to set you up with someone,” Stiles said, trying to sound positive.

Derek let out a breathless chuckle. He gently squeezed Stiles’ hand.

He heard the door open behind them.

Stiles straightened, looking over Derek’s shoulder. He nodded and gently pulled away from Derek. He gave Derek’s hand a gentle squeeze before rising to his feet and making his way inside.

A moment later, someone else sat down beside him.

Derek glanced out the corner of his eye, looking at the broken look on his uncle’s face.

“I hate it when they bring her up, too,” Peter admitted. “I hate remembering how you looked when I found you. I hate remembering the sound of you screaming yourself awake every night from the nightmares you had because of her. I hate seeing the pain in your face every time someone says her name.”

Peter let out a sigh.

“But you know what? I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. I proud of you for moving on, for making a life for yourself, and for finding someone that you love,” Peter said.

“Is mum upset?” Derek asked.

“Not at all,” Peter told him. “I think everyone finally got the point, and they’re sorry.”

“So am I,” Derek said quietly.

Peter draped an arm around his nephew’s shoulders and held him close.

“You’ve been to hell and back, kid,” Peter said, craning his neck to look Derek in the eye. “But just remember, you did make it back.”

A small smile turned up the corners of Derek’s lips.

“Yeah, I did,” Derek said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Never forget that.”

  The house was quiet when Peter and Derek came back inside.

As they stepped into the dining room, everyone’s eyes turned to Derek.

Derek ignored them. He walked over to Stiles’ side, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Stiles’ cheek.

Stiles smiled in return, the sweet grin filling Derek’s stomach with butterflies.

He sat down next to Stiles, reaching over to where Stiles’ hand sat on the table and taking it in his own.

Stiles turned his hand over, lacing their fingers together and giving Derek’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

They ate desert quietly, talking about Laura’s new apartment and how Cora was doing at school.

The night passed a lot quicker, but a heavy blanket of tension and guilt hung over them.

“We’d better get going,” Derek said, stepping back into the dining room after he and Laura cleared the dishes. He looked at Stiles. “We’ve got to get home before it’s too dark.”

Stiles nodded and rose to his feet.

Cora said goodbye from where she sat on the other side of the table. Peter rose to his feet.

“It was nice to see you again, Stiles,” Peter told him, shaking his hand.

“You too,” Stiles said.

Peter looked up at Derek, offering him a smile.

Derek smiled in return, nodding slightly; they didn’t have to speak, they knew what the other was thinking.

Laura stood up and stepped around the table, pulling her brother into a hug.

“Please come back soon,” Laura said quietly.

“I will,” Derek promised.

“I love you, Derek.”

“I love you too,” Derek said, hugging her tight.

Laura pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping past him and hugging Stiles.

Talia walked them to the door.

“Derek,” she said softly. “I just want to say, we’re sorry.”

“I know,” Derek said.

“I know you don’t like talking about what happened to you, but if you ever feel like you want to talk, you know I’ll always be here for you,” Talia said, taking her son’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry for how we acted; I’m sorry that you felt like you didn’t belong here or that you wanted to stay away. We never meant to upset you or make you feel uncomfortable, and we never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Derek said quietly.

Talia reached forward, cupping Derek’s cheek and craning her neck to look her son in the eye. “I promise, you’ll always have a home here.”

Derek smiled softly.

He stepped forward, letting his mum pull him into a hug.

“I love you, mum,” Derek said quietly.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and, as she stepped back, brushed aside a strand of raven-black hair that hung forward in Derek’s face.

She turned to Stiles. “It was very nice to meet you, Stiles. I’m glad I finally got to meet you.”

“You too,” Stiles replied.

“You two take care,” Talia farewelled.

“Bye,” Derek said quietly, taking Stiles’ hand and walking out the door.

They made their way over to the car, climbing into their seats.

Stiles waited until Derek turned on the engine before asking, “Are you okay?”

Derek let out a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, he said quietly, turning to look at Stiles. Stiles could see the sincerity in his face when he said, “I’m okay.”

----------------------------

Derek walked Stiles up to the front door. He leant forward and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ cheek.

Stiles let out a quiet chuckle.

“There’s no one around, you can stop pretending,” Stiles said quietly.

“If I’m being honest, I stopped pretending a while ago,” Derek admitted.

He wanted to look away, wanted to hide his shame, but he was entranced by Stiles’ eyes.

His heart hammered in his chest as he waited for Stiles to say something.

Stiles bowed his head slightly, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips.

“I stopped pretending a while ago too,” Stiles confessed, looking back up at Derek.

A sigh of relief fell past Derek’s lips.

“Does that mean we’re dating now?” Derek asked.

“I suppose so.”

“It still feels weird not asking,” Derek admitted.

“Then ask me,” Stiles said.

Derek felt his heart flutter as he looked into Stiles’ eyes.

“Stiles, will you go out with me?” Derek asked.

Stiles’ smile lit up his face.

“Yes,” he replied, taking a step forward. He looped his arms around Derek’s shoulders, pulling the man closer as he whispered, “I’d love to.”

“Isn’t there a rule about not kissing until the third date?” Derek asked, a coy smirk turning up the corner of his mouth.

“Just kiss me,” Stiles said.

Merlin slammed open Arthur’s chamber door. (He still hadn’t learned to knock and since he was no longer Arthur’s manservant, he had even less of a right to enter Arthur’s chambers unannounced. But Arthur was surprised to discover he truly didn’t mind.)

Merlin stomped into the chambers, “If another person says ‘my lord Emrys’ to me one more time, I’m going to turn into a bird and fly away and you’ll never see me again-”

Merlin’s odd rant was cut short when he noticed what he had walked in on.

The table was set for two. Arthur was setting down a candle, as he finished lighting the last of several that adorned the table. Arthur himself was only in his white tunic, his chainmail and cloak discarded earlier in the evening.

“Oh,” Merlin cursed under his breath, “I’ll just,” He made a motion to the door and took a step backward.

“Close the door, you idiot. The food is going cold.”

“Huh?” Merlin said.

Arthur ignored him and poured two goblets of cider (Merlin’s favorite.) He offered one to the Court Sorcerer who was still hovering awkwardly in the chamber entrance. Eventually Merlin closed the door with a flick of his hand, his eyes shining gold for a second, and took the offered goblet. Merlin held it to his chest, looking a little bit like a spooked stoat.

Arthur held out a chair, and Merlin took it silently.

“Well?”

“Uh,” Merlin said, eloquently.

“What was this about you turning into a bird? Did a serving girl corner you again?”

That seemed to break Merlin out of his stupor. He continued his rant about propriety and how Arthur had turned Merlin into a lord as punishment. Arthur just ate his dinner and sipped his cider, bemusedly watching Merlin chatter away.

After dinner, Arthur poured Merlin more cider. Merlin seemed to have gone quiet again, staring into his goblet with brows pinched.

“Not to your liking?”

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s good. Amazing, actually. Um, so, this dinner was for… I mean how did you know I was going to come here? You didn’t exactly tell me to join you for dinner.”

Arthur smiled, “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. You’ve come to my chambers every night for the past month, since your instatement.”

“Oh. Have I? Old habits die hard, I guess.” Merlin blushed, “I’m so used to coming here at the end of the day.”

“You still refuse to move out of Gaius’ room too.”

“It feels wrong to move out,” Merlin rehashed his same old argument.

“There’s a perfectly acceptable chamber for you in the East tower. You could have an entire room for your work.” Arthur sighed, “You’ll need to move out eventually.”

Merlin bit his lip, “I’m not used to it yet. It feelsstrange. I feel like I’m forgetting my chores. I keep thinking that I should do the laundry or polish your armor.”

“You don’t have to anymore,” Arthur said.

“I’m sorry I keep coming to your chambers. I’ll have to remind myself not to-”

“Don’t,” Arthur said a little too quickly. He cleared his throat, “You don’t have to. I mean, I don’t mind.”

Merlin blinked at him.

“You can come to my chambers at the end of the day, like you used to. You can join me for dinner.”

“What? Every night?” Merlin laughed, but his eyes were cautiously watching Arthur.

“If you like,” Arthur said, feeling his own stomach tighten into knots.

“Oh,” Merlin said.  Arthur could tell he was fighting off a smile, “Alright.”

“Good,” Arthur said, his stomach doing several flips. He took a sip of his cider, watching Merlin out of the corner of his eye. Merlin was watching him as well. He felt a bit like a young boy, discovering the wonders of love all over again.

Arthur stood up and offered his hand to Merlin, “Join me by the fire?”

Merlin looked at the hand, reaching out but pausing before his hand touched Arthur’s.

“Arthur… Are you…Are you courting me?”

Arthur didn’t retract his hand, but it took a lot for him not to turn away, embarrassment and fear of rejection warring inside him. Arthur’s mind cycled through several phrases of ‘I can stop’ and ‘no, don’t be absurd’ and ‘only if you want me to.’ He must have paused long enough that Merlin seemed to take that as a ‘yes.’

Merlin’s hand slipped into Arthur’s, his palm fitting neatly into Arthur’s.

“You don’t have to court me, Arthur.” Merlin stepped up close to his King, his other hand reaching up and brushing Arthur’s hair into place. “You won me over a long time ago.”

Arthur heart picked up pace, and he tried not to shiver at Merlin’s delicate touch.

“Let me, anyways?” Arthur’s words were a little disjointed.

Merlin smiled, his eyes closing into small crescents. “Far be it from me to deny the King.”

Arthur huffed out a laugh, “Now that is simply untrue. No one defies their King quite like you do, Merlin.”  Unable to control himself, he lifted their joined hands and kissed Merlin’s knuckles.

Their joined hands rested between them as they sat by the fire, Arthur watching Merlin conjure scenes in the flames.

***