#deter drabble

“Hi, hello, Stiles here, Stilinski, you know,” Stiles rambled into the phone, keeping one hand on Derek. “Derek’s not taking this so well, whatever you told him. Can you tell me?”

Derek heard the man tell Stiles the same things he told Derek, but it still didn’t make any more sense.

“Alright, thank you, sir, we’ll be there shortly.”

Stiles hung up and then completely faced Derek.

“Derek, I need you to keep it together. Do you want to go see Peter?”

“He’s not at the hospital, he can’t be. He’s a werewolf,” Derek said, voice trembling and thin, and Stiles nodded.

“Yes, he is, but he also just resurrected himself, so maybe it can be. Derek,” Stiles said again, voice hard and demanding Derek’s attention now, “do you want to go see him?”

“He can’t be at the hospital,” Derek choked out again, and Stiles frowned at him when he started to shake.

“Okay, big guy, come on. We’ll just go see him, alright?” Stiles asked, and carefully pulled Derek along after him.

“He can’t be hurt,” Derek muttered again.

“Derek, I think he is. And if that’s the case, he’d probably like for you to be there when he wakes up.”

Stiles gently pushed him into the jeep, keeping a soothing and steady commentary going, but Derek still felt like he would vibrate out of his skin. He knew, theoretically, that things like this could happen, but he never thought he would get a call like this.

Yes, werewolves could get hurt, seriously at that even, but never ever got a hospital involved. Derek has never even heard of a werewolf taking such a call because of another werewolf, and it just didn’t compute. Peter couldn’t be hurt.

It was not possible.

Derek belatedly realized that the jeep had stopped, that the hospital was already looming right in front of them, and when Derek turned his head towards the driver’s side, Stiles wasn’t there anymore.

Derek startled when a hand lightly gripped his arm.

“Come on, Derek. Let’s go find out how he’s doing, huh?” Stiles gently said and tugged on Derek’s arm, finally getting him to move.

“He’s not in there,” Derek lowly said, clinging to that thought because it couldn’t be.

“Let’s make sure, okay?” Stiles insisted and Derek finally stepped out of the jeep.

“He won’t be here.”

“And we will be so damn glad when they tell us exactly that,” Stiles gave back, but he was tense and clearly worried and Derek wanted to shake him, because there was no reason to be worried.

Peter was fine, somewhere that was not here.

Still, Derek followed close after Stiles, who immediately went to the emergency station.

“Hi, we’re looking for Peter Hale? This is Derek Hale, he got a call that his uncle was here,” he explained, and the nurse nodded at them.

“Yeah, I called you. He’s in the OR right now, and I can’t tell you how much longer it will take.”

Derek might have lost a few minutes, because the next thing he knew was that he was sitting on a hard, uncomfortable chair and Stiles was crouched in front of him.

“Panic attacks are no fun, huh?” he softly asked and briefly tightened his grip on Derek’s hands. “Are you with me, now?”

Derek jerkily nodded, and Stiles sighed, before he stood up and sat down next to Derek, never taking his hand away.

“It will be okay, Derek. He’s strong, and he didn’t resurrect himself to die now of whatever it was that happened to him,” Stiles told him, threading their fingers together and holding on tight.

Derek could hear his heart, knew that Stiles wasn’t even believing what he said, but he pushed that thought away. He preferred to believe the lie right now.

He couldn’t say how long they sat there, but Stiles got up twice to get coffee and call his dad, but Derek didn’t move at all. No one came over to tell them any news, and the nurse kept throwing them sympathetic glances, but that was about it.

Whenever Stiles came back, he immediately reached out for Derek’s hand again, and Derek gladly took it. It was the only hold he had right now, and he wasn’t willing to let go of it. His only remaining family was behind these doors and Derek didn’t know how he was doing, if he would survive and Derek immediately pushed that thought away.

Peter couldn’t die.

Stiles was dozing at his side when finally a doctor came towards them. Derek elbowed Stiles awake, because he couldn’t do this on his own, and Stiles jerked as he woke up.

“What?” he mumbled, but his gaze sharpened when he saw the doctor.

“How is he doing?” Stiles immediately asked the doctor, and Derek was grateful.

He couldn’t have done it, too afraid of the answer.

“He was in a very critical condition when he got here, but we managed to stabilize him. He should be fine, barring any complications that could still arise,” the doctor courtly told them, and Derek could smell the exhaustion on her.

“Can we see him?” Stiles asked and her gaze flicked back and forth between Derek and Stiles.

“That’s his nephew,” Stiles explained. “He’s not taking the news too well,” Stiles bluntly added and immediately the doctor softened.

“Yeah, of course. He’s in room 57. You can go see him, but he’s still asleep and will stay that way for the rest of the night, I think.”

“Thank you,” Stiles gratefully told her, when Derek still didn’t say anything.

“You want to go see him? Make sure he’s okay?” Stiles asked Derek once the doctor was gone, and Derek managed to at least nod at that.

He wouldn’t believe this was really happening until he could see Peter with his own eyes. By now he thought that if Peter was alive, if he would just be alive when Derek finally laid eyes on him, then it would be all okay.

“Good,” Stiles said with an encouraging smile and tugged Derek along again, clearly knowing his way around.

Derek froze again in front of the room, and Stiles jerked when he wanted to continue on, but Derek stopped dead in his tracks and didn’t let go of Stiles.

“I can’t go see him,” Derek choked out and Stiles turned towards him.

“Derek, he’s right behind that door, and he would probably really like to have you at his side.”

“He can’t—I don’t know—we don’t get sick, Stiles. We don’t get hurt like this. I don’t know how to handle this.”

“Do you think he does? Don’t you think it will be super scary for him to wake up, injured and hurting and in a place he should never even be in, without his family at his side?”

“I can’t lose him,” Derek whispered, and he could feel his eyes burning.

“I get that, Derek. But he can’t wake up and not have you at his side.”

Derek took a shaky breath, and then finally allowed Stiles to open the door to Peter’s room.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. Peter’s scent was there, but it was almost overpowered by disinfectant and the distinct smell of a serious injury.

“Oh god,” Derek almost sobbed out and rushed to Peter’s bedside, hands hovering unsurely over his uncle’s body.

There was a thick white bandage around his middle, and Peter was hooked up to several machines.

The sight was terrifying, and made everything real, frighteningly so, and Derek couldn’t help the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“Peter,” he whispered and carefully brushed his fingers over Peter’s temple.

He didn’t get a response, Peter was still asleep after all, but it was a natural sleep and not an induced one, Derek could tell by the smell. His hands where shaking and he quickly snatched them away, unwilling to disturb Peter in any way.

When Stiles stepped up behind him, Derek pressed close to him.

“It always looks worse when they are asleep,” Stiles whispered and squeezed Derek’s hand again. “It will be better when he’s awake.”

Derek tried not to think about how Stiles knew that, why he knew his way around the hospital so well, and instead he clung to his hand.

“Don’t leave,” Derek begged, and Stiles smiled at him.

“No worries, big guy. I’m right here.”

Stiles dragged a second chair closer to the bed, and then gently bullied Derek into sitting down. Derek didn’t want to let go of Stiles’ hand, but he reached out for Peter with his other hand; he was too afraid to take his hand, unused to the sight of needles at the back of it and so he instead gently rested his hand on Peter’s arm.

It would help him, let him know that Derek was there, that his pack was there if Peter still considered them that, and he could only hope that it was enough. He could only hope that this would be enough to not remind Peter of his time during the coma.

Derek felt his eyes burn again, could feel a yawn threatening to take over, but he clenched his jaw. He refused to sleep, at least until he knew if Peter truly was okay.

Stiles didn’t have the same hang-ups, apparently, because shortly after they sat down, Stiles’ head lolled towards Derek’s shoulder. Derek could hear him snore softly just a few minutes later. He pulled Stiles closer, resting him more comfortably against his side, because Stiles didn’t deserve to get a crick in his neck just because he was staying by Derek’s side when he didn’t have to.

Derek dozed off eventually, too tightly wound up to really fall asleep, but when Peter slightly shifted in his bed, Derek was immediately awake again.

“Peter?” he carefully asked and was rewarded with Peter’s eyes fluttering open.

“Derek,” he croaked out and Derek will forever deny the fact that he immediately started crying.

“I’m here, Peter, I’m here,” he reassured him, carefully cupping his cheek in his hand. “I’m right here.”

Peter nodded, and then promptly dropped off again, clearly put at ease with the knowledge that Derek was there.

“He okay?” Stiles drowsily asked and Derek let out a long breath.

“He’s alive,” Derek gave back, too relieved to care that Stiles could probably see the tear tracks on his face.

“Awesome,” Stiles mumbled, and Derek gently nudged him.

“Go home, Stiles. We’ll be fine.”

“Nope,” Stiles replied, and curled up into the chair more comfortably and then immediately fell asleep again.

Derek couldn’t help but be grateful for his continued presence.

~*~*~

Derek woke up to the feeling of fingers sliding through his hair.

“What?” he mumbled and then jerked upright when he finally remembered where he was. “Peter,” he breathed out.

“I’m here, pup,” he said, voice breaking with disuse.

“Never, ever do that again to me!” Derek said, voice breaking around the words and Peter’s face softened.

“I’m sorry I scared you, darling.”

“How the hell did you end up here?” Derek wanted to know, and just hoped that Peter didn’t notice just how badly his hands were shaking again.

“The resurrection,” Peter shortly said. “It made me weaker than I thought. I was careless.”

“Never do this to me again,” Derek sobbed out and Peter carded his fingers through Derek’s hair again.

“I’ll try, sweetheart.”

“I love you, I can’t lose you,” Derek whispered, almost too afraid to say the words but Peter let out a contented sigh at that.

“I love you too, pup. I’m sorry I scared you,” Peter repeated and then gently tugged Derek up, and Derek went easily.

The kiss was soft and brief, just a gentle brush of their lips but Derek hummed with how happy he was.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing better,” came Stiles dry voice from besides them and Derek jerked back, but Peter kept his hand on Derek.

“I will be fine,” Peter said, and Stiles sighed.

“Good, because I hate to see Derek this sad and scared.”

“Same,” Peter replied, throwing a small smile towards Derek, who could feel the telltale’s signs of a blush on his cheeks.

“Then don’t get hurt again,” Derek admonished Peter.

“I’ll try, darling.”

“Alright, coffee, anyone?” Stiles asked and got up and walked out of the room before either Peter or Derek could reply.

“He’s a strange one,” Peter observed, though he sounded more fond than anything.

“That he is,” Derek agreed, “but I couldn’t have done this tonight without him.”

“I am sorry,” Peter reiterated.

“I know that,” Derek sighed and leaned over to kiss Peter again, and then again and again, reveling in the fact that he could.

“I’ll be healed up faster than you will know,” Peter reassuringly said and then pulled Derek onto the bed with him.

Derek was careful to not get tangled up in the wires that were still connected to Peter, but once he cleared them all, he curled up against Peter’s chest, keeping off his still bandaged wound and rested his head on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter put his arm around Derek’s shoulder, pressing his lips to his temple and Derek was asleep before Stiles was even back.

“Okay?” Peter unsurely said, but he looked about as unhappy as Derek felt and Derek scooted to the other end of the couch.

“I’ve been on a date because you’ve been on a date and you didn’t even tell me. I had to find out from Laura,” Derek complained.

“Oh, darling,” Peter sighed. “It was pack-related. I didn’t go on a date, per se, we talked business all evening.”

Derek pressed his lips together, because he hadn’t known that. And if he had asked Peter before this, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

“You should have said,” Derek muttered, and Peter nodded his agreement.

“Yes, I should have,” he admitted. “Now tell me what the problem is.”

“It’s—she’s older,” Derek said lowly and Peter’s eyes briefly flashed blue.

“How much older, Derek?” he asked, a warning tone to his voice and Derek made himself small on the couch.

“She’s my substitute teacher,” he pressed out and startled when Peter started to growl.

“I know I made a mistake—,” Derek started, but Peter cut him off almost immediately.

“It’s her who made the mistake. She should know better,” he hissed and then visibly reigned his temper in. “But I’m guessing that is not really the problem.”

“No, it’s—I said yes to a date with her, because she was funny in class, and she clearly wanted to take me out and I was hurt because you—,” Derek shrugged before he went on, “but now she won’t stop. She’s cornering me every chance she gets and she’s insinuating that if nothing sexual happens soon she’s going to make my life hell, and I just don’t know what to do. Laura is no help, she said I should be glad someone wants me at all, and that it’s strange enough that I don’t want to sleep with her since Kate is apparently ‘hot like burning’ but I don’t want to and she is not a fan of no.” Derek took a deep breath after his rant, before he dared to look back at Peter.

“Is she forcing you?” Peter demanded to know, and Derek winced.

“Not yet? But I’m thinking it won’t be long before that and I just—I don’t want to meet with her anymore, but I don’t know how to stop either. She’s gonna spin it around, make it look like it’s my fault.”

“Derek, come here,” Peter said softly, extending his hand and patiently waiting until Derek took it, before he pulled him onto his lap, where Derek immediately curled up small.

He always felt best when Peter held him like this.

“Sweetheart, what she’s doing is coercion at best, because you’re still underage. At worst, it’s statutory rape,” Peter explained, tightening his grip on Derek when he flinched at that. “There’s no way she can spin it around and make you look like the bad guy, I promise you that. And I’m going to make sure it doesn’t come to either of this,” Peter promised.

“I don’t want to go to school anymore,” Derek whispered and hid his face in Peter’s neck.

“Okay,” Peter easily agreed. “We’ll make sure she’s gone before you go back.”

~*~*~

It was a big scandal. Derek’s name was kept out of it, so all the school knew was that Kate Argent had gone after one of her underage students. Normally that would only mean one year in prison for her, but Peter wasn’t a lawyer and left hand for nothing.

He had tracked Kate’s path through the country, contacted schools and families, and later on the FBI, because as it turned out, this wasn’t the first time Kate had tried something like this. And her ploy usually ended in the gruesome death of whole families.

Derek was horrified by that, felt even dirtier than before, because if he had let this go on, they all would have died.

Instead, it was Kate who died. By the end of the trial she was accused of more than thirty murders, leading to the death penalty. Derek couldn’t say that he minded much.

When everything was said and done, Kate locked away for good before she would meet her end, Derek was back in Peter’s office.

“You did it,” Derek said, and Peter almost looked affronted.

“She was going to hurt you. Of course I did it.”

Derek blushed at that, ducking his head to hide it, but going by the fond huff Peter let out, he noticed.

“I would do anything for you, pup, you have to know that.”

“I do,” Derek said immediately, because he did. He never doubted that, not even for a second.

He stood up from the couch where he had been sitting and walked over to Peter’s chair, but instead of curling up on his lap like he had all those months before he straddled Peter’s lap.

“Derek,” Peter said warningly, but his hands also came up, sliding under Derek’s shirt and splaying possessively over the small of his back.

“I love you,” Derek whispered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Peter’s lips.

Peter allowed it for a second, before he regretfully pulled away.

“Sweetheart,” he muttered, his thumb rubbing over Derek’s skin. “We just put someone away on statutory rape charges. Someone my age. I don’t think this is the best idea.”

Derek nodded, because he knew that. But he still needed to know.

“But, eventually, right? This is just you saying ‘not yet’?”

“Of course, darling,” Peter reassured him. “Believe me, I have plans for when you turn eighteen. But not yet.”

“But you can tell me, right?”

“That I can do,” Peter said with a soft smile. “I love you,” he told Derek, leaning up to drag his nose against Derek’s cheek, scent marking him that way.

“That’s enough,” Derek declared and turned sideways, curling up on Peter’s lap again.

And even though he had a bit of a growth spurt these last few weeks, he still fit perfectly into Peter’s arms.

John had also seen how Derek deflated, looking crestfallen when he didn’t find Peter waiting for him but instead one of his other family members. Peter always showed up for whatever game or school activity Derek had, too, and Derek always noticed him, puffed up and doubled his efforts for Peter.

And then this morning; Peter and Derek had been out for breakfast at the same place John went to get his fries-fix. He had only spared them a quick glance, because anything longer had made him feel uncomfortable. It was clearly a private moment, Derek beaming and looking as happy as John had ever seen him and Peter had such a smitten look on his face that John had almost blushed.

John had seen abusers, had seen abused spouses and kids and partners, and their interactions looked nothing like what Peter and Derek had.

But Talia had made an accusation that needed to be checked out and John would damn well do his job.

“I need you to fill out this incident report and then we’ll have to do some questioning,” John told her, and he could instantly tell that Talia was not happy with that.

“He’s abusing a minor, John! You need to get him away from Derek.”

“We both know that it’s not quite as easy as that,” John reassuringly told her and pushed the report closer to her. “Fill this out, and I’ll personally question them.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near Derek,” she immediately snapped out and John narrowed his eyes at her.

“That’s not how this works, Talia,” John warningly said. “If you’re going to fill out this report, you better accept that I’m going to do my goddamn job and that includes questioning Derek as well.”

Talia stared at him, her anger no longer behind the mask, but John couldn’t care less. It was a serious accusation what Talia was telling him here, and John would make sure that he got to the bottom of this. And if Talia didn’t like it, she better walked away now.

“Fine,” she hissed out and stormed out, sheet of paper clutched tightly in her hands.

~*~*~

“Why am I here, Sheriff?” Peter asked, aiming for nonchalant, but John could see the tightness around his eyes.

“Your sister has brought up some serious accusations and I’m just trying to understand what’s happening here.”

“What are the accusations?” Peter asked though going by the way his whole face briefly fell, he already knew that Talia had brought up.

“She says you’re abusing Derek,” John told him, and Peter briefly clenched his teeth together.

“I love him, John. And he loves me, too. He wanted to tell Talia, so we did, and she freaked out. She screamed bloody murder and she’s trying to keep me away from him.”

“Not quite successfully,” John said with a small smile. When Peter just frowned at him John elaborated. “I saw you every morning in the diner, since she came here.”

“Ah,” Peter nodded. “Talia wasn’t home, and Derek can be very convincing.”

“I think you’re just weak for the boy,” John gave back, and Peter shrugged.

“He has me wrapped around his finger,” Peter admitted, and he would need to be a goddamn great actor to fake that soft and adoring look on his face.

“Still, I have to ask: did you ever touch Derek in a sexual manner? He is still a minor after all and your nephew on top of that.”

“I didn’t,” Peter immediately gave back. “He’s sixteen, John. I’m not sure he knows what he wants, yet. We cuddle and when he feels bad, he sleeps in my bed, but nothing ever happened. I told him that when he came to me the first time, and I’ll stand by that.”

“I thought so,” John answered. “I see how Derek lights up when he sees you somewhere, how he’s looking at you.”

“Then why the hell am I here?” Peter snapped out.

“Because Talia made a serious accusation, and I need to do my job. I’m questioning Derek next, just so you know. Talia is with him already, and I bet she’s gonna try and barge in.”

“She will,” Peter confidently said and got up. “I can’t say this was a pleasant meeting, John.”

“Same,” John said. “How about we meet for a more pleasant experience tomorrow at the diner for lunch?”

“Only if you tell Talia to fuck off, later,” Peter replied, losing some of the tension around his eyes.

“I’ll do my best,” John said with a wink and escorted Peter out.

Talia was sitting with Derek in his office, waiting for their turn, and Talia’s face immediately hardened when her eyes fell on Peter. She slung her arm around Derek, pulling him close and obviously not noticing how Derek’s eyes followed Peter everywhere, how his face softened just a little bit when Peter had stepped out of the interrogation room.

Peter ignored Talia completely, but he sent a reassuring smile at Derek and then shook John’s hand. John was kind of glad that werewolves didn’t have the power to kill with just their looks, because Peter, or himself, would have dropped dead in a second.

“Is it our turn then?” she called across the hall and John had to suppress his smile at the eyeroll Peter sent his way.

“It’s Derek’s turn, yes,” John called back and waited until Peter had left the station.

“I’m going with in,” Talia decisively said, and John pressed his lips together, because Derek’s eyeroll was one hundred percent picked up from Peter.

“No, you’re not. I want to speak to Derek alone. Lessens the influence,” John courtly told her and absolutely did not falter under Talia’s icy glare.

“What are you insinuating?” she hisses.

“Nothing. Derek, if you would follow me?”

“Sure,” Derek sourly said and trotted after John into the interrogation room.

“Tell me what’s going on with you and Peter,” John said as Derek sat down.

“I love him,” Derek quietly said, and John nodded, because that’s what he expected.

Hell, it’s what he sees every time he sees those two together.

“Did he ever touch you in a way you didn’t want?” John still asked, because it’s his job.

“He won’t even kiss me,” Derek said with a heavy sigh. “He won’t touch me because I’m still sixteen. I’m going to die a virgin,” Derek complained, and John snorted.

“I doubt that,” he reassured Derek, because John was pretty sure that as soon as Derek turned eighteen Peter would be all up on that, if Derek still wanted it then.

“How long have you loved him?” John lowly asked, and Derek smiled sadly at him.

“Forever. He was always my favorite. I never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend, I never even had a crush on someone. It was always just him.”

“Alright,” John told him and got up. “Time to talk to your mother then.”

“Oh god,” Derek muttered. “Tell her that if she doesn’t stop being stupid, I’m going to move in with Peter.”

“Will do,” John promised and was rewarded with one of Derek’s rare smiles.

Well, rare for anyone who wasn’t Peter.

Talia was pacing up and down outside the room and she whirled around the moment the door opened.

“Are you going to arrest Peter?” she immediately demanded to know.

“Why don’t you come in here?” John said evenly and Talia almost shouldered him out of the way when she stormed past him.

“What?”

“Talia, you know what,” John said with a sigh.

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re a werewolf. You would smell it if Derek was miserable, hurt or afraid. You would smell the evidence on Peter. Don’t bullshit me. You never liked Peter and you’re just trying to finally get rid of him.”

Talia gaped at him, clearly not used to someone speaking so frankly with her, but John couldn’t give less of a shit. Talia wasn’t his alpha and she sometimes needed to just hear the cold, hard truth.

“Talia, you’re slandering Peter. If this gets out, even just the accusation, it could ruin his reputation as a lawyer.”

“And what do I care?” she wanted to know, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“You should care, because if you keep doing this Derek will be gone sooner than you can blink. They love each other, and you know it. I get that you don’t like it, but you have to deal with it somehow.”

“How dare you,” she hissed at him and John shrugged.

“I’m just telling you what you already know, Talia,” John placatingly told her.

“He’s my brother, John! He’s Derek’s uncle, for god’s sake! He’s fifteen years older than Derek!”

“I know. But as far as I can tell there’s no coercion and no abuse in their relationship. Apparently, Derek approached Peter. They didn’t have sex yet, they are not married, and they can’t produce children. I don’t know what you want from me, Talia. There’s no legal standing for you, neither with the incest accusation nor the statutory rape accusation.”

“I came to you for help!”

“And I am helping you. You need to stop Talia. They love each other, and you’re going to ruin your relationship to your brother and your son forever if you don’t learn to at least ignore their relationship.”

Talia flashed her eyes at him, but John couldn’t care less. She wouldn’t attack him, and she had no power over him. She stared at him for a good long minute, before she suddenly deflated.

“I wanted so much more for him,” she muttered, and John sighed.

“Talia, his life is not ruined. Look me in the eye and tell me that Peter doesn’t want the best for him. That he would keep him from choosing whatever future Derek has picked out for himself.”

Talia clenched her teeth together, keeping suspiciously silent, because they both knew Peter only wanted the best for Derek.

“I hate it when you are like this.”

“Right?” John cheekily asked and laughed at the glare that earned him. “Come on, I’ll take you out to Chris’ bar, get you nice and tipsy and tomorrow you’ll smile at Derek and Peter like you mean it.”

“Fine,” Talia huffed. “I hope you got your paycheck already, because you will need all the money today.”

“Don’t you worry, Chris and I have an understanding about getting stressed out alpha’s drunk.”

“I hate you,” Talia muttered but she went along with John easily.

“I know you do.”

It would be a long night. John just hoped that Derek and Peter used it to get some good cuddling in while Talia was out.

They deserved it after this.

~*~*~

John was pleasantly buzzed when he came home, having pushed most of his drinks over to Talia who had readily downed them all without blinking. She was decidedly more wasted than he was. At least she had werewolf healing on her side.

John tried to be quiet as he went through his evening routine, absolutely ready to fall into bed and not move until the sun inevitably shone into his face, and so he hurried along.

His bedroom was dark and he didn’t switch on the light, finding his way to the bed without it. When he slid under the covers, he immediately reached out and pulled Stiles closer to him, tucking him into the folds of his body.

“Where’ve you been?” Stiles mumbled as he sleepily blinked his eyes open.

“I just had the strangest day,” John murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips. “Go back to sleep.”

“Missed you,” Stiles breathed out, and then pressed closer to John, wrapping his arms around him.

“Missed you too,” John replied, but he was pretty sure Stiles was already asleep again.

“Look at you,” Peter said, and he sounded awed, though his scent was panicked and sad. “You grew up so gorgeous.”

“What—,” Derek started but then couldn’t help but run forward and pull Peter into a bone-crushing hug.

“I have missed you so much,” he whispered into Peter’s neck, and while Peter returned the hug, he didn’t relax into it.

“Derek, sweetheart, what is going on? Last I remember, you were sixteen. And look at you now. How old are you?”

Derek froze right up, stiltedly extracting himself from Peter’s arms and taking several steps back.

He should have known. He should have known right away, because there was no way in hell that after everything Derek did to their family, and to Peter, that Peter would still want anything to do with him.

“I’m twenty-three,” he told Peter without looking at him, so he only heard the sharp intake of breath.

“Holy shit,” Peter said with emphasis. “What happened? Where is everyone?”

Derek’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, because he had never needed to say it out loud, had never needed to tell anyone that their whole family was dead, and he didn’t know how to break it to Peter. Let alone explain that it was all his fault.

“Derek, darling, just tell me what happened,” Peter coaxed, and Derek swallowed against the lump in his throat.

“They are all dead,” he mumbled. “There was a fire,” he went on, but then stopped when Peter reeled him in for another hug, this time melting against Derek like he used to.

And Derek had intended to tell him the truth, the words I killed them all on the tip of his tongue, but this Peter didn’t look at him with barely concealed hate and Derek couldn’t bring himself to say it. This was Peter from before the fire, the one who loved Derek and who knew how to laugh and who played games with his little niblings; this was the Peter Derek missed every day, like a chopped off limb.

And he just couldn’t destroy all of that.

He figured the amnesia would go away sooner or later; Laura had watched enough rom-coms for Derek to know exactly like this would go, especially considering the enhanced healing, so he thought it couldn’t hurt to just keep a few details to himself.

Peter would hate him again soon enough after all.

~*~*~

It wasn’t quite that easy.

Peter took two days to digest that everyone he loved was dead and buried, that he had lost the better part of a decade to a coma and then to death (at least that was what Derek told him) but it didn’t change the fact that he was as easily affectionate with Derek as he had been before the fire.

Peter grieved for the two days he allowed himself, keeping Derek close and in reach, clearly afraid that he would vanish too, and he peppered Derek with love and kisses and hugs.

Derek, in turn, allowed himself those two days to bask in that affection, in that love, before he distanced himself again. It would be hard enough already, once Peter remembered and started to hate him again, and Derek didn’t need that to happen while he was cuddled up to Peter.

On the third day Peter sat Derek down and very imploringly begged Derek to “Please don’t tell me you live here, in this burned out shell of a home.”

Derek shook his head, and watched relieve wash over Peter’s face, only to be replaced with horror when Derek told him that he was currently staying in an abandoned train station.

Peter didn’t like that answer much better.

Derek didn’t know how Peter did it, what strings he had to pull, but a week after Derek had found him in the house, Peter was leading him into a new apartment.

“Isn’t that so much better, pup? Isn’t this a much better home?” he asked when Derek looked around and he could see it.

Could see them curled up on the couch, arguing over movies like they used to. He could see them in the kitchen, Peter despairing over Derek’s non-existent cooking skills while Derek laughed and laughed. He could see them in bed together, sleeping and comfortable, could imagine them fuck there to their hearts content but also just exist next to each other.

It would be so easy for this apartment to become their home, their den and something sharp and ugly twisted in Derek’s chest.

He didn’t unpack his duffle bag. Like this, it would be easier to run at a moment’s notice, once Peter remembered what Derek did to him. He wouldn’t want Derek around then.

~*~*~

“What did I do?” Peter asked out of the blue one evening, while they prepared dinner. Or rather as Peter prepared dinner and Derek watched from a safe distance.

“What?” Derek asked, startled out of his thoughts and when he looked up, he found Peter watching him.

“You’re distant. You’re deliberately keeping yourself closed off, and I want to know what I did. And how I can fix it.”

Derek pressed his lips together. He didn’t know how to explain that he was keeping his distance to protect himself. Didn’t know how to explain that he would love nothing more than to fall into this thing with Peter again, go back to the easy, comfortable, loving relationship they had before, but couldn’t because he could never stand losing Peter again.

Like this, it was easier for him. There was nothing for Derek to lose, if he didn’t let Peter close again.

But he didn’t know how to explain that without making Peter hate him again and so he just awkwardly shrugged.

Peter’s face fell at that, and Derek wrecked his brain for something reassuring to say.

“It’s not—,” he started and then took a moment to actually think it over. “I’ve been alone so long. I don’t—I just don’t remember how to be with someone anymore,” he explained and when he looked at Peter again, he wasn’t sure if the pain and worry on his face was any better than his hurt look from before.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Peter breathed out, food forgotten on the stove as he came over to cup Derek’s cheek in his hand. “You’re not alone any longer.”

“Yeah,” Derek said, but didn’t voice what he was really thinking. I just wonder how long that lasts.

~*~*~

Derek had only been gone for an hour but when he came back, Peter was sitting at the table and Derek could tell that he had his memories back in an instant. Gone was the open look on his face, the ever-present faint smirk on his lips. Instead, his face was hard and closed off and his eyes told Derek all he needed to know.

Their time together was over.

“I’ll—just get my bag then,” Derek said, heart in his throat, eyes burning like he was about to burst into tears any second now.

He had prepared for this; knew that it was inevitable. But it still hurt more than anything else.

“Is it because I killed Laura?” Peter asked and Derek stopped in his retreat, confused by that question.

“Is what because of Laura?”

“You keeping your distance. Did I—did I kill whatever we had, every chance we ever had, when I killed her?”

“She was your alpha and left you behind when you needed the pack the most. I hate that she’s gone, and I hate how she died, but you were feral at the time and I don’t hold it against you,” Derek explained and watched Peter’s face twist.

“What is it then? What did I do to make you hate me like this? You won’t even relax around me, don’t think I haven’t noticed. You didn’t even unpack. Why would you come here in the first place if you were always going to leave me again?”

“It’s not what you did to me, Peter, it’s what I did to you,” Derek chocked out. “I killed them, I killed them all and I left you just like Laura did and then I killed you. I know that even one of those is unforgivable, but all three—I always knew that as soon as you remembered I would have to leave again, that you wouldn’t want me around anymore. It’s you who hates me, and I get it, I really do, Peter, but I can’t—I couldn’t pretend that everything was fine for the last few weeks.”

Derek was breathing hard at the end of his triad and Peter was staring at him with wide eyes, surprise clearly written all over his face.

“I don’t hate you,” Peter told him, and Derek scoffed. “Hell, I don’t even blame you for any of these things.”

“Right,” Derek spit out. “That’s why you almost killed me, why you looked at me with such hate. Because you don’t blame me.”

“Darling,” Peter started and Derek flinched at the endearment, causing Peter to frown. “I really don’t hate you, and I don’t blame you. Kate killed our family, not you. It was Laura’s decision to leave me behind; she was your alpha and you had to obey. And you killing me was the kindest gesture you could ever show me. I wasn’t only feral, Derek, I was completely insane.”

But Derek couldn’t believe it. It just didn’t make sense in his head.

“You hate me,” he whispered, clinging to the one thing he had believed for the last few months, and Peter stood up at that.

“I don’t, darling. I love you,” he said, carefully coming closer. “I love you the same I have always loved you,” he told Derek softly and Derek could see the Peter from last week, the one who was still happy and content and a lot softer around the edges.

Derek couldn’t stop the trembling that started in his hands and just spread out, but Peter was right there, taking his hands in his and bringing them up to his chest, pressing them right over his heart, as if Derek hadn’t been listening to his heartbeat all this time.

“I love you,” Peter repeated, and Derek almost choked on a sob, wrangling his hands free so he could sling them around Peter’s neck and pull him close, hiding himself in Peter’s embrace.

“I love you, too,” Derek muttered, pressing the words into Peter’s skin.

They stayed like that for a very long time.

“Does that mean you’re finally going to unpack?” Peter eventually asked, but he still didn’t move away. “Because it doesn’t much feel like a home when you always have one foot out of the door.”

“I’m going to unpack,” Derek promised and pulled away only to lean in and press a soft kiss to Peter’s lips. “We’re going to make this a home.”