Summary: Reader reflect on their and Derek's relationship.
(The reader is 18+ and is gender-neutral. The race/ethnicity is preferably Black/POC.)
Looking up at the moon and the stars, you couldn't help but think about you and Derek's relationship and its progression over the years. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you leaned your left shoulder against the cold glass of the loft window, smiling to yourself at how you and Derek first met. You and him hated each other's guts with a passion. He thought you were useless, and too naive and weak to be part of the pack, while you thought he was incredibly arrogant, rude, and ungrateful for the help you provided. Every chance you both got, you would throw jabs at each other, half meaning them and half not.
"Jackass." "Stupid." "Hairy idiot." "Weak loser."
It seemed that everyone knew you two would get together eventually, before you both ever did. Especially Peter. As much as Derek hated it, his uncle really did know his nephew like the back of his hand and recognized something as small as when he had a crush on someone.
"How can you tell? What about that-" you pointed to Derek who was currently frowning in annoyance at Stiles as the scrawny human was rambling on about what was more than likely not important to the pack meeting, "says having a crush?"
The usual smirk that only Peter Hale could perfect came to his face, and he leaned in towards you to whisper conspicuously in your ear, "Every, I say, fifteen minutes he looks over at you."
"That doesn't mean anything," you had defended him, honestly not believing it. Derek was a very suspicious person and besides Scott and Stiles, he was very distrustful of others.
"The looks he gives you are very 'I will kill anything and anyone for you'," he whispered, darting his eyes over to him.
You followed his gaze and felt your heart skip a beat at the look in Derek's green eyes. The intensity of it made a warmth come to your cheeks and you quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn't notice how nervous you suddenly were.
You quickly looked to Peter in surprise and gave him a look that urged him to explain.
"You can never hold his gaze for too long without having to look away, nervous."
Shit, you thought, matching Derek's frown with your own as you saw Peter's smirk grow and could feel the warmth in your cheeks grow even warmer.
After that, you and Derek's dynamic had changed. Slowly you and him stood closer to each other during pack meetings. You and him would meet each other's eyes and quickly look away in either embarrassment and shyness.
Come to think of it, You furrowed your brows, now leaning your head against the glass, welcoming its coolness on your skin. How did me and Derek get together? You remembered what you and him did together that night, but not how you both ended up at his loft in the first place.
"(Y/N)," you heard him yawn after saying your name and lifted your head from the window to see him turning over in bed to look at you. His eyelids were heavy, there were bags under his eyes, and his hair was standing up all over his head. Just looking at him made your breath stop and you had to remember to answer him.
"What're you doing up," he asked, sitting up, the cover falling from his chest.
"Nothing. Just thinking," you told him, smiling at the sound of sleepiness in his voice. If you could do it without waking him up, you would take at least fifty pictures of him in his sleep just to always have a reminder of how cute he looks when he''s tired and asleep.
"Oh," he rubbed his eyes tiredly, before throwing his arm out, holding his hand, palm up, to you. "Come on. Let's go back to sleep. You need to rest."
With a grin, you leaned off the glass and made your way to the bed. "You need to rest" was Derek's way of telling you "Get in the bed. I want to sleep and cuddle you."
As you got closer to the bed, he lowered his arm and pulled the cover back on your side of the bed for you. Crawling back into the bed, you grabbed his hand and watched as the growing always-present tension in the werewolf lessened. Laying his head back down on the pillow, he squeezed your hand and pulled your body closer to his, wordlessly asking you to cuddle with him.
Eagerly, you wrapped an arm around his middle and sighed as you felt the warmth of his body against yours.
That's how we got together, you finally remembered, closing your eyes and relaxing your body.
It was in the loft, in this bed.
You remembered patching him up after a fight. His healing was slower than usual, and you took it upon yourself to help him with a regular first aid kit.
"You didn't have to do this, (Y/N)," he told you, his voice soft and tired from the fight.
"It's fine," you told him, stitching his torso up and wiping any excess blood away. "It would've worried me all night wondering if you had fully healed or not."
At the moment you had felt his gaze on you, and gathering courage, you decided to meet his gaze. Lifting your head to look into his eyes, you were caught off guard by how close both of your faces were, noses almost touching.
Should I, you thought. Will I embarrass myself? Will I embarrass him? Maybe I should leave. Maybe I-
Before you could finish the thought, you felt his lips upon yours and after that, the night was something that you would never forget. Before he was worn out and tired, but he quickly gained energy for you.
Hearing his snores now, you could feel yourself smiling. Despite you and his hating each other at first, you couldn't be more in love with this man.
