#gryvon

Satisfied that the FBI was in position, and not wanting to risk any of them finding his hiding spot before he’d had the chance to clear his name, Derek stepped out from behind the shelves and cleared his throat. Seven hunters spun around to face him, all bringing their guns up to bear.

Derek raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just here to talk.”

One of the hunters snorted. “Yeah, sure. After what we did to your buddies down in Brazil, I’m sure that’s true.”

So they hadn’t heard about the other group of hunters Derek had already caught up with. Or at least they weren’t bringing it up. “That was you then,” Derek said, raising his voice just slightly. “You killed those people.”

Another of the hunters outright laughed at that. “Yeah, people, sure.”

“Just so long as we’re all clear that I had nothing to do with it.” Derek kept his eyes on the hunters, refusing to let his eyes find the FBI agents hidden around the room.

“What are you talking about, we were looking for you.”

Derek grinned. This time he let his voice raise more obviously as he called out, “you got that?”

“Showoff,” someone muttered to his right. Someone with a very familiar, very distinctive voice.

Derek’s head jerked towards the voice. “Stiles?”

The air was suddenly thick with gunfire. The hunters jerked their guns back up, at Derek’s sudden movement or his addressing of the hidden figures in the room, it didn’t matter. The FBI opened fire and Derek dove for cover in the direction of Stiles’ voice as the hunters fired back. He rounded a shelf and came face to face with — yeah, that was Stiles, grinning like an idiot.

“Hey, Sourwolf.”

“Stiles.” Derek blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, me? I joined the FBI. We’re here to arrest you.” Stiles’ grin widened. He grabbed Derek’s arm and started tugging him towards the exit. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. Nice job, by the way. Quick thinking and all that. Figured you would have heard us — didn’t know you had it in you.”

Derek followed after Stiles, still a bit bewildered, with half a grin on his face, until he felt more than saw one of the hunters turn a gun in their direction. He yanked Stiles back and Stiles cried out in surprise almost at the same moment Derek heard the gunshot. Or, Derek thought it was surprise, until Stiles whimpered and Derek looked down to see part of his shoe had been blown off.

Stiles wobbled and Derek swore as he helped Stiles to the ground, kneeling next to him to yank off the book and sock underneath.

“Ow, hey, fragile human here!” Stiles chocked out a sob as Derek examined his foot. There were only four toes. The fifth was a bloody stump and Derek couldn’t see the detached tip anywhere when he glanced around for it.

More bullets whizzed by overhead and Derek gave up the search in favour of getting them both safely out of there. He scooped Stiles up in a bridal carry, and instead of protesting Stiles just grabbed onto Derek’s neck and started wailing. Derek carried him out the door, rolling his eyes at Stiles’ antics. He was so dramatic. It was just a toe. Not like it was an arm.

Stiles passed out just outside the doors and Derek carried him to the nearest available van. An agent was there to greet them. Derek dumped Stiles’ unconscious body in the back of the van and pointed to Stiles’ foot. “He got shot. I couldn’t find the toe.”

“Freaking interns,” the agent muttered, grabbing her radio. She glanced up and paused. “Aren’t you Derek Hale?”

Derek sighed and held out his wrists. “Yeah. You gotta handcuff me to the door or something?”

The agent hesitated, then nodded slowly, reaching back to retrieve her handcuffs. She fixed them on Derek’s wrists and he sat down in the back of the van next to Stiles's still unconscious — and possibly slightly snoring — body.

Everything after that was all very chaotic but still somehow efficient. A medic came over to check on Stiles and Derek was led away to be questioned, though thanks to the hunters’ confessions earlier he was no longer a suspect. He told them he knew the people who were murdered in Brazil, distant relatives of his, and when he saw the police had no leads he decided to take matters into his own hands. His interrogators — interviewers? —tried to chastise him for that, but Derek just rolled his eyes and pointed out that until he got the hunters to confess, the FBI still suspected him. The same thing happened when his sister died, and even with his family’s murders to a certain extent. Until Stiles stepped in and helped prove his innocence, he points out as an afterthought. Maybe it would impress someone here that Stiles had been successfully solving crimes for years now. In a slightly unlawful, vigilante fashion, but whatever.

When Derek got out of debriefing — ugh — Stiles was waiting for him, leaning against the wall with a cane propped next to him. He grabbed it and pushed off the wall, grinning when he saw Derek approach.

“Hey.” Stiles nodded.

“Hey yourself.”

Stiles punched him in the shoulder. “We made a pretty good team back there. As usual.” Derek rolled his eyes. Hard. “So where’ve you been? What’ve you been up too?”

“Oh, you know. Getting accused of murder, going on the run, chasing down homicidal hunters, getting called back to Beacon Hills to bail everyone out of the latest crisis. The usual.” Derek shrugged.

Stiles waved his hand dismissively. “I know about all that. I’m in the FBI, there’s surveillance. Anyway, I meant — wait. What about Beacon Hills?”

“Scott didn’t tell you?” Derek raised an eyebrow. He figured Stiles would be the first person they’d call.

“No, obviously not! Tell me what? What’s going on?” Stiles’ free hand skittered through the air before he dove it into his pocket to fish out his phone and started texting. “Lydia didn’t say — but maybe she doesn’t know either? Why wouldn’t Scott — I thought Scott left! He’s still in Beacon Hills? What the hell!”

Derek snorted. “Even I know something’s going on in Beacon Hills and I haven’t talked to anyone in months.”

“What, being on the run turns you into more of a hermit than usual?” Stiles glanced up from his frantic one-handed texting. “We missed you, man. You could’ve called.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“You should probably get one.” It was Stiles’ turn to snort. “Wait.” Stiles finally looked up fully. “How do you not have a phone? How do you survive?”

Derek shrugged.

“Right. Forgot who I was talking to.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

An agent hurried past, carrying a huge stack of papers, and Stiles shifted out of the way, overbalancing with his cane and injured foot.

Derek reached out to steady him. “Should you be walking on that?”

“Technically?” Stiles made a face. “I mean it hurts but I’m on a shit ton of meds so it balances out. Doc says I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“Normal for you anyway.”

“Asshole.”

“How long is no time?”

Stiles waves vaguely, apparently to indicate some length of time at the end of which he would be healed and ready to return to normal everyday activities. Like being in the FBI and fighting with and against the supernatural.

“More importantly.” Stiles fixed Derek with a stern look, his body suddenly still and focussed. “What is going on in Beacon Hills?”

What happened to I’m in the FBI, we have surveillance, Derek thought. He didn’t say it out loud though, going off on another tangent would do them no good when he should be leaving as soon as possible. Whether Stiles was coming with him or not.

Instead, Derek told Stiles what he knew: Kate had been searching for yellow wolfsbane — which Derek thought at the time she would use as a cure for Gerard, but she’d told him instead would be used as a weapon against Scott. He hadn’t had time to get much from Chris before going after Kate, but it sounded like some serious shit was going down. Not that it ever wasn’t — this was Beacon Hills — but this felt bigger. Not some lone Alpha or small group out to get revenge — something much more dangerous. Derek just wasn’t sure what it was.

By the end of the explanation, Stiles was still in shock that Scott hadn’t left Beacon Hills. He thought his best friend had left for college months ago. And after some internet stalking, it turned out that Lydia — now Stiles’ girlfriend apparently — had also chosen to stay in town, even though she’d had a full ride to MIT.

In the end, Stiles called his father for more details.

“Never thought I’d be calling my dad to check up on Scott.” Stiles grimaced as the phone rang. “Definitely always pictured it the other way around. Or that I’d be calling Melissa to check in on them both — hey, Dad! So, what’s up, what’s been going on and why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Stiles and Derek agreed that Beacon Hills — that Scott and Lydia and Chris and Melissa and apparently even the Sheriff needed their help. Stiles had a few days off from his internship to recover —

“Which means you should be using that time to recover, not mounting a rescue mission. What did the doctor actually say — bedrest?”

“Oh, shut up. You at least need someone to drive the getaway car.”

“Can you even drive missing a toe?”

“Shut up!”

They had their bags in the back of Derek’s Camaro and were on the road within an hour. Derek didn’t press too hard. Obviously Stiles was going back with him, that was never really a question.

…

They drove in silence, which surprised Derek, he thought Stiles would try to fill the space with random chatter. He did, occasionally, but mostly he seemed content to gaze out the window and watch the world go by. Something about the silence was comfortable, and Derek felt effortlessly anchored in a way he hadn’t since… he wasn’t sure when. He wondered when that had started, when Stiles became safety for him. Maybe it was something that grew out of necessity, and solidified every time Stiles saved him, and he saved Stiles back. They’d come to rely on each other for that feeling of safety, of having someone at your back. Derek hadn’t thought he’d needed that when he left Beacon Hills, but he realized now that he missed it. If you’d asked him back when they’d first met, Derek never in a million years would have pegged Stiles as the one he could count on time and time again, but here they were. He glanced over at Stiles in the passenger seat, watched him for a moment before Stiles looked over and made eye contact. He looked different than Derek remembered. Older. Sharper. More confident. Less spastic. Settled.

“What?” Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Something on my face?”

Derek shook his head. “Nothing, just. You look good.”

Stiles’ other eyebrow joined the first. “I’m running on about four hours sleep in the past forty-eight hours, lost a toe, am on massive amounts of medication for said toe, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t showered since the last time I slept.”

“In that case, you look incredible.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and looked away to stare out the windows again.

Derek chuckled, then said in a softer voice, “I mean it, though. Getting out of Beacon Hills was good for you. You look good, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced back over, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Back at you big guy. But, hey, it’s you. You always look good.”

Now it was Derek’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Seriously.” Stiles shifted in his seat so his knees were aimed towards the driver’s seat. “I’ve never met anyone who could have their guts rioted out and still manage to look like they could be on the cover of a swimsuit magazine. Well, a zombie swimsuit mag. Disembowelled quarterly.” Stiles snickered. “I used to have the biggest crush on you, you know.”

Derek blinked. He had not, in fact, known. He had known that Stiles had a crush on Lydia. Which had obviously never gone away considering the two of them were now dating. He hadn’t even known Stiles was interested in guys. When had it started? Shouldn’t he have noticed — if not on a personal level, Stiles would have given some other indication that he could have picked up on. Especially when they were in such close proximity. Like in the pool. Or at the sheriff’s station, with the Kanima and Matt. To be fair, those had been highly stressful situations. But he’d always thought Stiles was especially easy to read. Tracking him when the Nogistune shit had gone down proved that. Something would have slipped through, did Derek just not notice?

“We’re at the point in our relationship where I can tell you these things,” Stiles said.

“Literally,” Derek muttered.

“I’ve decided.” Stiles nodded. “It’s not awkward, we’re chill, we’re different people, we’ve grown up — don’t lie, you have too — but oh my god I do not want to know what you thought about me when I was sixteen.”

Derek smirked and glanced away from the road to give Stiles a once-over. “You know, now that you mention it, not much has changed, actually.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles said cheerfully.

Derek laughed.

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip. “It’s weird. Looking back, all the signs are so obvious now, but I didn’t realize liking guys was even a possibility — for me — until someone pointed it out to my face. And then I have to go and wonder if that ever even happened or if I was just out of my mind at the time with, well you know. Doesn’t matter either way I guess.”

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I think my life was pretty much normal, except for my mom dealing with the occasional pack thing. Until I was fifteen.”

“With Paige.”

Derek blinked again. “Who?”

“Paige?” Stiles glanced at him and kept going when Derek just stared back blankly. “Your high school girlfriend? Got bitten by Ennis? But the Bite didn’t take and she died? Or you killed her, maybe? I’m not entirely sure, Peter was pretty unclear, and I’m pretty sure he was bullshitting most of it.”

“Peter told you about this? This Paige?”

“Yeah, why? Sorry, I guess it’s pretty personal.”

Derek wasn’t sure what his face looked like just then. He was confused, trying not to laugh, and not sure if he wanted to laugh at the same time. Who even understood why Peter said what he said. And when would he have even told Stiles this? What would have been the point?

“Derek?”

Derek looked over at Stiles. “I don’t know anyone named Paige.”

“Right… I mean, not anymore I guess? Since she died?” Stiles winced.

“No, Stiles. I do not, and have never known anyone named Paige.”

Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it again, eyebrows furrowing. “So this story Peter told me about you and your high school girlfriend…”

“Never happened.”

There was silence in the jeep once more, Stiles staring out the windshield into the middle distance. Derek made sure to keep his eyes on the road, so they wouldn’t swerve into oncoming traffic.

“Fuck, Cora is gonna be pissed.”

…

“Get your feet off the dash.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s leather and I said so. It’s my car.”

“It’s a stolen car. See, this is why Roscoe is superior —”

“Like you would ever let anyone put their feet up in your precious Jeep.”

…

After a few hours, they decided to stop at a motel for the night. Stiles offered to keep driving while Derek slept, and then they could trade off when Stiles got too tired, but Derek argued that they were both exhausted since neither of them had slept since the FBI raid on the hunters last night. On Derek, Stiles pointed out, and Derek ignored him in favour of pulling into the motel parking lot.

They stayed up longer than they should, talking, both of them exhausted but neither quite ready for sleep. They took turns in the bathroom and lay down on their backs in separate beds, staring at the ceiling. Stiles talked more about Malia and how weird and unhealthy that relationship was for both of them, how he should have handled it better, should have taken it upon himself to make sure both parties were enthusiastically and verbally consenting to everything instead of just following their twin horny virginal instincts. Especially with all the talks he got from his dad, the Sheriff, growing up, plus the fact that Malia spent so much of her life as a coyote and clearly wouldn’t know about these things.

Derek talked about Kate, how it was so strange after all these years to be tracking her down to prevent her from committing further evil. How it felt a little like atonement, and at the same time like something he should have done years ago. How he didn’t blame himself for everything that had happened in his life, not anymore, at least not all the time. How he was trying, and a lot of the time was successful, to be better, and happier, and how a lot of that had to do with seeing his mom — with her claws in his neck on the ends of Peter’s fingers. Of course there were still slip-ups, still moments where he blamed himself for Kate, for Peter, for Laura, for Jennifer, but he was able to catch himself more and more. But he told Stiles he knew he was getting better. He was healing.

He looked over at Stiles to find eyes turned towards him, shining with emotion.

“Good for you, dude,” Stiles whispered. “I’m happy for you.”

It sounded a hell of a lot like I’m proud of you and I hope I get there myself, someday.

…

“Are you looking forward to seeing Scott,” Derek asked once they were back on the road.

“Under once again life or death circumstances?” Stiles’ eyes stayed trained out the window, on the endless trees rushing past. “Not particularly. In general, yeah, obviously, that’s not even a question.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen Scott outside of life or death circumstances.”

Stiles laughed. “Fair enough. So are you looking forward to seeing him, then?”

“I am. He’s done well for himself. He’s a good alpha.” A true alpha, at that. Derek knew the stories, knew of the existence of true alphas. His mother had known one, he thought, but he always assumed they were so rare that he would never meet anyone who could achieve alpha status by sheer force of will. But if anyone could do it… well, Stiles could probably do it if he were a wolf.

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, alright.”

Derek’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. “You don’t think so?”

“I think he’s doing as well as he can for someone barely out of high school with no idea what he’s doing. But, and okay I love Scott, alright, but he can be a little… I mean he obviously isn’t learning from past mistakes if he’s deliberately keeping us out of the loop.”

Ah. So it was a jealousy thing. Stiles didn’t like feeling left out, even if it was for his own safety. Typical. Derek grinned. “Keeping you out of the loop, you mean.”

“I’m assuming they only tracked you down in the eleventh hour when Scott realized he couldn’t do it all by himself. Actually, it probably wasn’t even Scott’s idea. True alpha or not, Chris, Melissa, and my dad aren’t his underlings or whatever. And Chris is the one who found you, wasn’t he?”

“And you think that was Chris Argent’s idea. To come find me.”

“Hey, I thought you guys worked past your shit, on some level. And I’m not saying Scott’s a bad alpha. He’s doing surprisingly well, but he’s not gonna be winning any best-alpha-of-all-time awards any time soon.”

That was rather unfair. Doing the best you could is all anyone can do. And what the fuck was this ‘surprisingly well’ bullshit. Derek glared at the road. “He’s better than I was.”

Stiles just shrugged. “You would’ve figured it out eventually.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Stiles turned in his seat so his body was angled towards Derek. “I mean it. You had a rough start. Made some… pretty questionable decisions. But all in all, I think if things had calmed down a bit and you’d had time to find your footing, you would’ve been good at it. There was a reason you chose who you did for your pack, and not just because they’d say yes. In different circumstances, you would’ve been good for them. You could’ve been good for each other.”

Derek didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing, and they lapsed back into comfortable-ish silence. Until Stiles reached over to switch on the radio and accidentally flipped it on at full volume and Derek nearly swerved off the road.

…

They left around noon the morning after the FBI raid. They could’ve flown, except Stiles was supposed to be on bed rest probably in a special FBI hospital somewhere, and Derek was still on a bunch of no-fly watchlists or something, and it was gonna take a while for bureaucracy to come through and sort that out. So driving it was.

Neither of them particularly minded. Yes, they were in a hurry to get back to Beacon Hills to rescue everyone, but they weren’t in a huge hurry to get there and die, so it was nice to take a few days to drive quietly rather than taking a plane. The only time Derek’d been on one was when he followed Laura back to Beacon Hills when she went missing, and he hated it, for so many reasons, so he had no desire for a repeat experience. He expected Stiles to complain about being cooped up and immobile all day, but he found ways to entertain himself, and Derek, and it was peaceful to travel together. Like it was a real road trip with no particular goal in mind, rather than a dangerous rescue mission.

“It’s always a dangerous rescue mission,” Stiles sighed. “One day I’m gonna go on a road trip for real.”

“You’d like it.” Derek nodded. That’s basically what he was doing when he left with Braeden, before he joined back up with Cora, and then Kate and the other hunters had to go and kill a neighbouring pack and Derek just couldn’t leave it alone.

Stiles asked and Derek told him about travelling with Braeden, about trying to help her with her vendetta with the desert wolf, because it was nice to help out with someone else’s vendetta you had no personal investment in for a change. About splitting off to go visit Cora when he realized he could, which didn’t take long but took longer than it should have for him to realize.

After six hours driving on the first day, with both of them exhausted from lack of sleep, they’d stopped at the motel, and decided to forgo one the next night and drive straight through. They drove fifteen hours before Stiles finally gave up and admitted he shouldn’t be driving yet with his toe, and pulled over to the side of the road to sleep for a few hours. They made it ten hours the next day, and they could’ve kept driving — it was only another six to Beacon Hills — but by the time they got there it would be three in the morning and they’d be completely useless.

This was Derek’s thought process when they left the diner they stopped at for dinner, and instead of getting back on the road he pulled into a motel parking lot. Stiles didn’t say anything, so he must have been thinking something similar. Or maybe something more like if I have to sit in this goddamn car another minute I am seriously going to murder someone, going by the way he’d been squirming for the last few hours in the passenger seat.

They were quiet as the got out and crossed the parking lot, heading for the front desk together. Derek didn’t say anything as Stiles requests a room and the woman behind the desk handed over the keys. They stayed up late talking again and slept in the next morning before a lazy breakfast at the same diner as last night.

Derek didn’t want it to end. What would happen when they rejoined the others, and then after when Stiles went back to the FBI and Derek went… somewhere. Else. He didn’t really have anywhere to be. No one needed him. No one wanted him. But he liked this, whatever this was with Stiles right now. It was nice to feel connected to another person, to share the space in a way that’s easy and comfortable. He didn’t want to let go of it just yet.

He had to, of course. They made it back to Beacon Hills and —

“Oh my god, pull over!” Stiles was already undoing his seatbelt.

“What? What is it?” Derek pulled the car over and Stiles leapt out of the passenger seat before they’d fully rolled to a stop.”Stiles!”

Derek got out of the car to follow him and his eyes narrowed when he saw the only possible thing on the block Stiles could be running towards. He took off down the road and reached the jeep at the same time Stiles did.

“They’re not here.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Derek tensed. “Stiles. Tell me you did not just jump out of a moving car because you saw your jeep parked on the side of the road.”

“Parked! Abandoned, is more like it! What has Scott been doing to my baby, you’re obviously not being used to your full potential.” Stiles smoothed his hand along the hood of the jeep and Derek frowned.

No, he was already frowning. Now he was scowling. “Stiles! Give me one good reason why we just stopped five minutes away from where everyone needs us before I drag your ass back in the car.”

“Because my jeep is awesome and it has survived way more than your Camaro 1.0 ever did, and it comes with a built-in radio and weapons stash in the back, AND, like I said before, Scott is obviously not using Roscoe to his full potential, seeing as he’s left him abandoned by the side of the road, Derek.”

Derek took a deep breath to remind himself that Stiles is a human, Stiles wouldn’t recover if Derek smashed his face through the window of his precious jeep, and he wouldn’t forgive Derek for the damage either.

Wait — was that?

Derek took another breath in through his nose. Yeah, that was Scott alright, and close.

“We’re close,” he told Stiles, and took off running in that direction.

“Wait — Derek!”

He heard Stiles scramble for his keys and stumble into the jeep before the engine ground to life and the car started after him. Derek veered down an alley and a second later the jeep followed. Almost there.

Then suddenly the jeep was passing him, and Stiles was waving and calling “later, sucker!” Before turning the next corner and slamming to a halt.

Derek jogged up alongside it and there was Scott — and everybody. They said their hellos: Derek hugged Scott and Stiles hugged Lydia, and everything immediately went to shit.

No one died this time. Well, no one Derek cared about. They stop the Anuk Ite, but the hunters were still on the warpath, and they were setting up a global network. Derek headed back to South America to make sure Cora was safe, and warn the packs down there about what’s going on. Jackson and Ethan went back to Europe with Chris to meet up with Isaac. Scott called Kira’s parents in New York and they promised to spread the word there and make sure Kira was safe as well.

Scott and his pack tracked the hunters, stepping in when they went after someone. The younger ones stayed in Beacon Hills — they still had to finish high school — while Scott and Malia travelled the country. Lydia went to school and Stiles went back to the FBI, but they came running to the rescue whenever they could.

Stiles and Derek stayed in touch. Derek got a phone and gave Stiles his number, which opened the floodgates for communication. Stiles texted him constantly, random thoughts and observations, about nothing in particular, and Derek found himself smiling as the words echoed through his head in Stiles’ voice. …

A few months later Derek was back in the country, helping Scott track down this one young werewolf the hunters were after. Stiles and Lydia showed up in Stiles’ jeep — which he’d taken back from Scott when he went back to his internship, claiming he needed a way to come to the rescue if Derek and his Camaro weren’t gonna be around.

They got the kid into hiding, and ended up at an all-night diner, catching up before they had to go their separate ways again. There was only one booth big enough for all of them, and Stiles slid in next to Derek, while Lydia wound up on the other side of the table next to Malia. Everyone relaxed, catching up, smiling and laughing even though they were all exhausted. They weren’t any closer to stopping the hunters, who seemed to grow in number every day. They were getting worn out, all of them, and this was only the beginning, Derek could tell. More than once he’d considered just taking off again, going into hiding, to live in the woods by himself to get a break from all this. But when he looked around the table at his friends, his family, his pack, and he knew he could never leave them again. Even if they weren’t always in the same place, he would never abandon them.

As the conversations turned to other things, people breaking off into couples and smaller groups to chat, Derek turned to Stiles. Stiles asked about Cora, and South America, and Derek asked about the FBI and Lydia. All stuff they’ve talked about before, briefly, over text, except when Derek brought up Lydia Stiles gives him a weird look and says,

“We broke up.”

Derek frowned. Stiles never mentioned anything about that. He would have remembered.

“Yeah, we realized it just wasn’t working out, neither of us was really as invested as we thought we’d be, and we’re better off as friends.” Stiles shrugged. “I think I’ll always love her, but I’m not in love with her anymore, you know?”

Derek didn’t know, but he nodded anyway. The only time he thought he’d been in love before… well. It certainly wasn’t what he felt for her now, and he didn’t want to think too hard about it, honestly.

“It was definitely mutual,” Stiles continued, apparently not needing any actual input from Derek at this point in the conversation. “And I think it’s been heading that way for a while. I don’t know about Lydia, but I, well there’s someone else.”

Derek swallowed and looked away. Of course. Of course Stiles would already be moving on to his next relationship, it was a wonder he’d been single for so much of high school. Despite his personality. Derek glanced at him and looked away. “Think you’ll have more luck dating in the FBI rather than high school?”

Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fat chance. Wouldn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t work there. And I’m pretty sure he’s straight.”

Derek looked up again to see Stiles peeking at him out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow slightly raised in question, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Was he…? Maybe? Derek cleared his throat and smirked back. “Maybe you should ask him.”

Stiles’ smile widened and he turned his gaze back to his plate, poking at the few remaining curly fries. “Yeah?”

Derek relaxed back in his seat, letting his arm draped across the back of the booth behind Stiles. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Stiles glanced up at him and straightened. “Okay, maybe I will.”

“Good. You should.”

Stiles took a deep breath and then slumped forward suddenly, his head thunking down on the table. “Oh my god, Derek, would you please just answer my non-question so I don’t have to embarrass myself by actually asking!”

Derek put a hand over his face to hide his smile, and hopefully stop himself from laughing. “I’m sorry, what question is that?”

Stiles sat back up angrily and Derek quirked an amused eyebrow at him.

And of course that was when the rest of the table erupted with laughter and whatever Stiles had been about to say was drowned out. They held each other’s gazes for a while longer, but the moment was broken and they turned back to the rest of the group. Derek left his arm where it was as Stiles sat back in his seat. As the night wore on they drew closer, Derek’s hand brushing Stiles’ shoulder, Stiles’ knee bumping against Derek’s under the table.

Afterwards, Derek walked Stiles to his jeep and leaned on the hood while Stiles unlocked the doors.

“You know, DC isn’t too far from here,” Stiles said. He wasn’t looking at Derek, focussing intently on fitting the keys into the door.

“I’ve never been,” Derek said.

Stiles looked up at him. “I could show you around. If you wanted to come visit.”

“I’d like that.” Derek smiled.

Stiles nodded. He turned to open the door, then abruptly turned back. “As a date. I’m asking you on a date.”

“Oh. Yeah. I thought… maybe you were.”

Stiles kept nodding. “Good. Okay. Still a yes?”

“Yeah. Still a yes.”

“Okay. Good.”

He leaned in suddenly and kissed Derek. Both their eyes were open and they stared at each other, and then Stiles was back where he’d been a second ago and opening the door of the jeep before Derek could react.

“Great, okay. Text me when you’re in town. Or before. Like don’t wait until you’re in town to text me but, you know.”

Derek shoved off the jeep, nodding as Stiles turned the key and threw it into gear, driving away before Derek had even caught his breath enough to speak again.

When he turned around everyone was staring at him. They didn’t look shocked though. Smug Derek thought. He ignored them and walked over to his own car, not bothering to give Scott a wave before he drove off. He didn’t have anywhere in particular to go, so he turned in the direction a certain jeep had gone.