It had been like this for months now, the endless cycle of wasting his day away chasing his demons and passing out in a shady rented room to do it all again the next. He found comfort in this, or at least a numbness from all the memories he was hopelessly trying to suppress. It kept his thoughts occupied and he was always too engrossed or depleted to allow his mind to wander without his consent. Unfortunately, he had even less control over the slumberous plane versus his conscious one.

Dreams were never a relative concept to Derek since they customarily failed to linger after he opened his eyes. He could always feel the essence of the illusions of sleep, but that would soon dissipate as well. There was always that one nagging feeling in his abdomen that he could faintly feel albeit his attempts to choke it down. Always there, always lingering, to the point that he thought he might feel empty without it.

Typically, when suffering from a nightmare, Derek would wake suddenly and still as if he were petrified. No screaming, no cold sweats, no rapid heartbeat. As if he had been given a dose of kanima venom, his body found no reaction to the terrors that absconded once his lids flew open. So what made tonight different? What suddenly changed in him, allowing everything he had spent months taking apart to force itself back together, pulling like a magnetic field until it was recognizable?

Derek sat up violently in bed, his eyes flashing blue in the stark black of the room as it was riddled with the sounds of panting and a rapid heartbeat. Being a werewolf meant the muscle in his chest was already accelerated, with the rate at which it thumped now could end in sudden cardiac failure for anyone without supernatural aptitudes. He sucked air through his teeth at the sudden jerky motion upwards, instinctively bringing a hand to his stomach. Through the darkness, he could see his fingers laced with blood. Temporarily sidetracked, he jumped from the bed and flicked on the light switch, shielding his eyes at the abrupt flooding of brightness.

Derek lifted his shirt up while standing in front of the rancid sink and mirror to reveal the bullet wound that had befallen him earlier that night. He peeled off his shirt, raising his arms slowly as the pain began to radiate through his body in hopes to examine the spot more easily. Pulling the skin back, it appeared that his injury had not only failed to improve but began to deteriorate. A rush of horror made his stomach jump, nausea overcame him, knocking him to his knees as he emptied his belly into the toilet. Leaning back, he wiped the corner of his mouth and rested his head against the cold linoleum walls of the bathroom.

With his eyes closed, all the images he suffered during his slumber came rushing back, and a sting like being stabbed repeatedly manifested where he was starting to bleed again. Sitting on the floor, distraught and terrified, he let a single tear cascade down his cheek as he clasped at the lesion in his side. What was happening? The inability to recover physically was pushing his body to its barriers mentally, assuming that was what was happening here. He took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly, preparing to shut his lids and face what was haunting his mind. There were flashes of memories and voices, but nothing concrete, like a puzzle that was still trying to piece itself back together.

Derek knew exactly what his subconscious was trying to communicate, exactly what recollection he had thoroughly stored away in the recesses of his mind. Regardless, he was able to call upon the record of his life. He drew in deeply as the breath hitched in his lungs, holding back the hot tears that were brimming in his eyes. It probably should have been archived as a happy memory, that moment in someone's life that alters their course and turns their world on its head, which it was, but being Derek wasn’t an exact science.

***

The large metal door flew open with a loud clang, reverberating through the large loft, as Derek swung it open. His arms were full, carrying the lanky boy, hooking his legs over his arm while wrapping his other around his back and under his shoulders. “Derek! I said I’m fine, okay? Just put me down!”

“No.”

The freckle-faced boy slacked his jaw and glinted in distaste while Derek avoided eye contact, focused on the task at hand. The boy grunted in defiance and tried to wiggle out of his arms, but Derek tightened his grip making it almost impossible without supernatural strength of his own. “Jesus, Derek. Why are you acting like a crazy person?”

Derek only responded with a grunt as he approached his bed, laying Stiles down gently. He disappeared into the bathroom as Stiles leaned back on his elbows, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back as he shouted, “Seriously dude, I'm fine!”

Derek started back towards Stiles with a first-aid box in hand and a brooding mug. Stiles scoffed when he thought about the idea of a werewolf keeping a first-aid kit around, but then it occurred to him and his face went flush. Derek scurried to his side and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need me to take the pain?” Derek grabbed Stiles’ limp hand and anchored him back to the moment.

“Huh? What? Oh, no. No, I’m fine.” Stiles was easily distracted.

Derek rolled his eyes as he let Stiles’ hand go reluctantly and turned to get a better view of his ankle. 

“You keep saying that.” Derek’s voice was gruff and annoyed. He pulled off Stiles’s shoe and the boy winced as he pulled in air sharply. “And as usual, you are not fine.” Stiles rolled his honey eyes and let his head roll between his shoulders mockingly. 

Derek peeled off the brunette’s sock and turned up the hem of his pants the best he could without causing discomfort.

Stiles was trying to hold his breath to hide the pain that radiated from his ankle up to his thigh as Derek worked on him, but the rhythm of his heart betrayed him. His eyes were screwed shut and the pain started to fade, allowing him to relax, but when he realized what was happening, his eyes flew open.

“Hey! I said don’t do that!” He swatted Derek’s hand away, the black veins in his arm paling. Derek grunted and put his hand back on his skin, the charcoal lines pulling the ache from him. There was no point in fighting Derek because Stiles had no doubt that if he kept it up Derek would have him tied down so that he couldn’t push his hand away. If there was anyone to rival the stubbornness of Stiles Stilinski, it was Derek Hale.

The pain dispersed and he could only feel a slight tingly sensation along with the impression of the swelling. Stiles sat up to bring Derek and his foot into view. The ankle was roughly the size of a tennis ball and he had had enough broken bones and injuries in his life to know that wasn’t a good sign. “How bad is it? Is it broken?” Stiles coiled back, preparing for the answer. Derek didn’t respond so he wiggled his leg to get his attention. “Do I need to go see Melissa?”

“No.”

“No, what? I asked three questions.” Stiles squinted and pursed his lips.

“I know.” Derek kept his focus on Stiles’ ankle, continuing to care for the injury.

“Okay, grumpy-pants, that still doesn’t clarify anything,” Stiles said as he waved his hand and rolled his eyes.

Stiles seemed more easy-going since Derek took the pain and the wolf found comfort in that. From the angle he was to the boy, Stiles couldn’t see the small uptick on the corner of his mouth.

“No, it’s not bad. No, it’s not broken. And no, you don’t need to see Melissa.”

Stiles unknowingly let out a long sigh of relief as he let his head fall back. Stikes took a deep inhale before he looked back up and Derek was finishing up wrapping the white compression gauze around his foot. He couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips as he watched the man care for him, a side Derek tried to keep buried down but Stiles had seen break through the surface many times.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Derek hadn’t removed his eyes from Stiles’ injury, so the brunette shook his head in awe, startled that he was able to notice. Damn werewolf senses.

“Looking at you like what?” Stiles didn’t even try to hide the sass in his tone.

Derek sighed and pulled in his lips as he turned his head towards Stiles. He tilted his head and knitted his brows together.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak eyebrows,” Stiles mocked.

Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles and picked up the items he had littered around the foot of the bed while nursing the boy's ankle. He placed them all back into the kit and stood up, walking over to the center of the room. He placed it on the table in front of the couch as he sunk into its cushions. Leaning back, Derek rubbed the place between his eyebrows and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so exhausted. Letting out a long sigh, he straightened his back by sitting up, knowing he couldn't rest yet.

He looked over to Stiles who was still examining him adamantly. “You need to rest, Stiles.”

“Apparently, so do you.” He threw an arm up at the man as he shifted in the bed, pulling himself up to lean against the headboard.

Derek sighed and let his head fall into his hands, digging his elbows into his thighs as he leaned forward.

Stiles scooted over to the side of the bed as best he could without twisting or moving his ankle then cleared his throat. Derek looked up hazily and saw Stiles pat the spot on the mattress next to him.

Quizzically, Derek looked the scene over and drew lines into his forehead. Stiles tried to offer him assurance with the softest of smiles.

Nervously gulping, Derek let his thoughts run rampant. It’s not that the idea repulsed him, but that fact that it didn’t. He’s known Stiles for a few years now and he has successfully drowned his feelings for him in that time frame. Stiles wasn’t very subtle and he could tell that the brunette felt...something too, whatever that may be.

No matter what he did, Stiles seemed to weave himself into the structure of Derek’s existence and there was no denying it, so he ignored it. Giving in to his weariness, he stood up and walked over to the bed, falling into its embrace. He edged the side, trying to put as much space between him and Stiles as he could.

“Look, I know you bite, but I don’t.” Derek rolled over to face the boy and glared at him with tired eyes. 

Shrugging his shoulders, Stiles slid down onto his back and let his fingers tap restlessly on his belly. Derek drowned out the noise by honing in on the boy’s rhythmic breathing. In...out. In...out. In...out.

***

A surging pain woke Derek on the bathroom floor, wrenching his intestines as he leaned over to puke again. He opened his wet eyes and saw that everything in the toilet was black. A cold chill ran down his spine and his body started to tremble as he leaned against the wall again.

With his mind spinning, he couldn’t focus on anything around him let alone a coherent thought. He pressed his palms to the cold floor, pushing up to attempt bringing himself to his feet. Before he could raise himself higher than three inches, his arms gave way and he settled back onto the ground.

If he wanted to live through the night, he was going to need help from someone...anyone. He was desperate and his instinct was taking hold, his need to survive no matter what. His wolf howled as his fragile body was decaying from the inside out.

Derek’s eyes flew open, their brilliant cyan shining in the dimness of the small space as he let out a pained shout. He needed to call for help before he passed out again fearing he wouldn’t wake up next time. He reached into his pocket, pulling his phone out and agonizingly typed in a number. His fingers were weak, along with the rest of him, struggling to enter the digits with one hand. He left black blood on the screen as he tapped, there was black blood everywhere.

His lids grew heavy and his hand went limp just as he managed to send the call. He listened to the shrilling ring on the line as he faded into the absence of reality. The last thing he heard was the familiar voice calling his name with panic. He wanted to say something back, he wanted to comfort them and convince them he was okay, to take the worry from their mind but he couldn’t.

***

Derek awoke to the feeling of fingers tracing the lines of his face. Without opening his eyes, he smiled and grabbed the hand, pulling the person it belonged to into his chest. They shifted and turned, placing the curve of their back into Derek, slotting them together perfectly. His arm was draped over them and placed over their heart, feeling the rapid pumping of blood. He nuzzled his face into the crevice of their neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply and feeling tingly at the scent he loved. 

The scent.

That Scent.

Fuck.

Startled with reality finally catching up to him, Derek jumped up from the bed, and Stiles fell off the other side in response. Derek ran over to him and kneeled down next to the boy as he groaned. “Oh shit, sorry... I didn’t...I just...sorry.” Stiles was rubbing the back of his head and sitting up while Derek looked him over frantically, terrified he had broken him.

“It’s fine, sourwolf. I’m still relatively in one piece.” Stiles leaned back on his hands, giving him a content smile and Derek let his features wash over him. Like a crashing wave, everything hit him all at once. All the emotions and thoughts he had built a barrier to hold back. The dam had cracked and the pressure became too heavy. For the briefest of seconds, he lost all control and brain function, purely acting out of instinct.

He frantically grabbed Stiles’s face with both hands and pulled him to his lips, kissing him as if his life depended on it. There wasn’t any tongue or sexualization to it, but a hunger and desire to be closer, to be one.

Every movement of their lips clashing together felt like breath was being drawn out of his chest, pulling him in like a mist into the other man’s lungs. He was so enamored by the feeling of Stiles’ mouth that he failed to realize the fingers weaving into his hair, pulling so tight that it stung his scalp. He needed Stiles so fervently that searing tears welled in his eyes and leaked past their closed hoods.

When Stiles felt the warm moisture between their cheeks, he broke the kiss and ran his fingers through the wolf’s hair, then bringing his palm to cup his cheek. He brushed away a stray tear as the raven-haired man leaned into it, eyes still refusing to crack. He inclined forward and kissed Derek’s damp cheek where the tear had been wiped away. They sat there in silence, taking in the presence of the other.

They didn’t need words to communicate, they never did. Words were pointless between them, unable to bring light and understanding to what the other was truly experiencing. If you took a look back in their history, you could catch the longing gazes that failed to hide their affection while the other wasn’t looking. The ability to connect and comprehend one another without even speaking. Conversations of the eyes that allowed them to converse with their souls rather than their words.

Possibly, they weren’t entirely aware of it themselves, but it was there nonetheless. When they did become vocal, it was banter and words of indifference, contrasting everything their bodies spoke truth to. Their subconscious’ blatantly aware of what was happening between them, but their primitive brains just needing to catch up.

“Derek…” Stiles’ voice was barely above a whisper and it made the wolf knead deeper into his hand. The way he said his name, it was dangerous. Dangerous in the sense that it was raw and desperate.

Derek’s eyes finally opened and they were the piercing cobalt that bore into Stiles’s whiskey ones.

Gnawing on his lip, Stiles leaned back in slowly and searched for some kind of rejection in the cerulean orbs, but found none. He kissed Derek so gently that the brush of their lips was almost non-existent. He kissed again, somewhat harder. He repeated the action, each kiss becoming more and more demanding.

They made their way back up to the bed, refusing to break their lips and found themselves with Derek stradling Stiles’s legs. Their pelvis’ clinging together like magnets as they deepened their kisses. Derek licked across Stiles’s bottom lip as he pushed his hips hard against the boy.

Stiles moaned and the wolf took advantage, agonizingly pushing his tongue into the other’s mouth. He searched the open space, exploring its crevices and swirling around against the opposing muscle. Stiles let small keening sounds move past their locked lips and met Derek's crotch with his own small rolls of his hips.

Derek let his hands grip Stiles’ shoulders and brush down his arms until he intertwined their fingers, bringing his arms up and over their heads.

Their bodies rubbing together caused both their shirts to ride up and Stiles whined at the lack of skin. He pulled back and tugged at the hem of Derek's black shirt, prompting him to remove the item.

Derek reached behind the brunette, gripping at the end of Stiles’s shirt and bringing it over his head. He then sat up tall after he tossed the garment on the floor, then stilled, taking the boy in for all of his worth. His fingers brushed his collarbone and made their way down, ghosting his skin. He let the pad of his thumb sweep over his nipple, causing Stiles to shudder at the contact, then down over each bump of his ribs that protruded through his flesh. Over the line that formed half of the infamous “V” on his hip and to the patch of hair below his belly button, leading down past the waistband of his chinos.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Stiles’ cheeks flushed pink at the compliment and he gulped, the bump in his throat shifting slightly as he swallowed. Derek leaned down and kissed it, leaving a trail of wet kisses around his neck, up under his jaw, and around the base of his skull until he reached behind his ear.

Stiles was absolutely blanched, his breaths thready and mouth dry.

“I need you, Stiles.” Derek’s words weren’t desperate or pathetic, but whole-hearted and demanding. A simple statement of truth.

Derek sat up again, causing Stiles’s hand that was resting on his shoulder to drag down his chest. Stiles kept it there, against the defined abs of Derek’s stomach.

Derek was waiting for any sort of response from the brunette, but Stiles was unbelievably silent in all manner of the word. Derek Hale had managed to leave Stiles Stilinski speechless. He searched the younger man’s face and found a hint of awe, making him smile.

In return, Stiles broke his lack of reaction with a toothy grin that was comically large, but utterly pure. Derek’s smile grew even wider and he let out a small chuckle, leaning in for another chaste kiss.

Derek couldn’t wait anymore, he had to have Stiles now. He hovered over him, tugging on his bottom lip with question and the brunette turned his head minimally, mimicking the uncertainty. Derek pulled away a bit more and curled his fingers into the top of the Stiles's pants.

Stiles’s eyes grew wide and he gave a weak nod. The ebony-haired man unbuttoned the pants and pulled them off, leaving behind the plaid boxers. The hardness beneath them was undeniably visible as the head of Stiles’s pink cock peeked out at the top.

Derek swung his leg over Stiles and got off the bed, the boy whining in protest at the absence of his weight on him. He pulled off his own pants and briefs, leaving himself on display for the brunette to ogle.

He was large and thick, his cock not entirely up despite its hardness. The weight of it caused him to hang slightly. Stiles’s breath hitched as he looked at the man before him.

Derek looked to be carved from stone, a masterpiece by Michelangelo himself. His eyes seared into the flesh as he examined him, the bits of his hair sticking up from where his own fingers ran through, thick brows that rested above his kaleidoscope eyes. Lips that were pink and soft as clouds, his tongue running across them with desire.

Stiles followed the line of his jaw, littered with scruff down his neck that was thick and strong, shoulders that too often bore the weight of the world and arms that showed muscle without flexing. He looked at his hands that were deftly underrated, strong rough hands that he didn’t see as weapons the way Derek did, but as gentle tools. He remembered how those very hands had been used to take care of his injury and take away the agony that came with it.

Stiles’s eyes drifted to the surprisingly boney hips next to where his hands were hanging. Lines shot downwards from his hips into his pelvis but were cut off by dark hairs on his crotch. The hair extended up and onto his stomach which was hard and toned. A red blush covered his face as he looked back down to his thick cock, now being pumped by those full hands. Derek’s head was pink and swollen, liquid leaking from the slit at the top. Stiles could feel his own precome pooling on his stomach from the tip that poked above his underwear.

Stiles swore he was close to coming just from the sight of the man alone. His mouth was a contrast of watering with desire and dry from astonishment. It matched the oxymoron of his body, now breaking out into a cold sweat. His jaw was slack and he took in a shaky breath. “Fuck.”

Stiles had imagined Derek before when he let his mind wander, he even had seen him shirtless countless times, leaving little to the imagination, but seeing him fully, and in this way, wanting Stiles, was like gazing upon him in a new light. It felt like he was seeing him for the first time.

“Don’t just fucking stand there,” Stiles threw up a noodle of an arm, and Derek wasted no time to climb back on top of him. He wiggled his way between the brunette’s legs, letting their cocks rest next to each other. 

He went in for a kiss, this one more sloppy and heated than the others, different and less sensual. Derek involuntarily began to buck his hips down, rubbing his cock alongside Stiles’s, only the thin fabric of the boxers between them. Stiles let out a moan from the friction against Derek and resented the barrier between them. He wiggled his pelvis up and Derek hissed with the unexpected pleasure. 

“Off,” was all Stiles could manage as his heart pounded in his chest, and Derek complied. He sat up, pulling the waistband down and bringing Stiles’ legs in front of him and straight up. He tossed the item and brought his legs back down slowly, but Stiles was impatient and sat up to meet his lips. He made his way onto Derek’s lap, straddling him.

Derek would roll his hips up into Stiles and keening sounds escaped with each brush. Their cocks caught between their stomachs and mixing the precome into their flesh. Stiles wrapped his legs around the wolf’s back as he was lowered back down. “Derek, please. I need you inside me.”

The beta reached over to the table next to the bed and opened the drawer. He pulled out a bottle of lube and spread it across his fingers. Stiles looked on in anticipation and couldn't help but to gnaw on his lips.

Derek traced the ring to Stiles’s entrance and the boy shuddered at the touch. The lube made Derek’s fingers cold at first, contrasted to the heat irradiated off Stiles’s body. 

“You gotta talk to me, okay?” Stiles nodded at Derek’s words with his eyes closed, basking in the pleasures he was feeling. “No, talk.” Derek wasn’t demanding, but still adamant.

“Okay.” Stiles breathed out hard, his voice almost nonexistent. He realized Derek was waiting on him. “More.” He could hardly keep his eyes open, his head back and neck exposed as he wiggled beneath his lover.

Derek pushed in a single finger and Stiles let out a harsh breath that turned into a moan. The sensation was strange but felt amazing. When he adjusted, he looked up at Derek and let him know he was okay. The man slowly inserted a second digit, stretching Stiles out. Stiles’s cock twitched, a steady stream of clear liquid leaking from his slit and onto his belly. He bucked his hips, begging for movement, and Derek started to incite his fingers, pulling them out and pushing them back in.

As Stiles relaxed and loosened around him, Derek’s movements were faster and stronger, pulling elicit moans and whines from Stiles.

“Der-” Stiles couldn’t manage to say his whole name between his hitched cries of pleasure.

“What do you need? Talk to me, remember?” Derek kept the rhythm of his fingers, twisting and scissoring inside Stiles.

Stiles let out a grunt of frustration, unable to form words. He wasn’t sure why Derek kept wanting him to speak, but he’d comply as best he could. “You.” He let out another groan of satisfaction. “I need you.”

Derek halted his hand and tilted his head at the boy. He watched as Stiles let out a whine of protest and looked up at him pitifully. Derek offered him a small smile and leaned over the brunette to get more lube, placing a small kiss on his lips. Derek poured some in his hand and then applied it to his enlarged member, flinching at the sudden chill the liquid brought.

Stiles watched over his belly and through his legs in awe as Derek pumped his cock in his hand. Stiles found himself bringing a hand to his own dick and wrapping his fingers around it as he pleasured himself. 

Derek looked up and noticed, pushing Stiles’ hand away. He leaned down, still stroking himself with one hand and enveloping Stiles in the other.

Derek made a long stripe from the base of Stiles’s cock to the swollen head with his tongue and took him into his mouth, tasting the salty-sweet precome. Stiles let out a loud gasp and tensed slightly from the surprise as he bucked his hips up into the back of Derek’s throat and wrung his fingers into the man’s black locks. Realizing how close he was to finishing, he stilled Derek’s bobbing head, “Wait. Derek, just wait.” His words were strained.

Derek stopped and let Stiles’s throbbing cock fall from his mouth with a pop and hit his stomach where the patch of hair was thick on his belly. He raised an eyebrow with concern that Stiles wasn’t happy. Sitting up, he separated himself from the mole-speckled man slightly, in fear he was changing his mind.

“No! No, come back. I just…” Stiles looked to the side and bit his lip. Derek couldn’t help but let out a needy noise at the sight. “I was close and didn’t want to finish in your mouth.” Stiles sat up and placed his hand at the back of Derek’s head, locking their eyes. “I want to finish with you inside me. I want to feel you fill me up, coming on your cock.”

A thundering growl escaped Derek’s lips as he crashed them onto Stiles’s, knocking them both back down into the bed. His wolf took hold, no longer buried beneath the surface. His eyes flashed blue as he pushed himself up to look at Stiles and the young man gawked in amazement. Stiles brushed Derek’s cheek with his thumb and worried his bottom lip, gazing deeply into Derek’s sapphire eyes.

They met in another deep kiss, inhaling the moans the other made as their cocks rubbed together between their stomachs, slick from the lube. Derek lifted his hips and reached down, refusing to break their liplock. He positioned himself against Stiles’s hole and felt him flinch at the touch. He looked down to make sure the position was right and looked back to Stiles for affirmation one last time.

Stiles nodded with begging eyes and Derek pressed into him with dragging speed. Stiles let his head fall back and his jaw went slack as he felt Derek’s head slip into him. It was a mix of pain and pleasure, something words couldn’t define. He felt himself fluttering around Derek, adjusting to the protrusion and relaxing as his body became attuned with it. He closed his mouth and looked back to Derek who had stilled and Stiles frowned, whimpering and in need of more than he was given. “Derek…” His voice was hoarse and crackly, barely making a sound.

Derek offered sympathy and responded by slowly sliding in deeper. He was met with some friction as he felt Stiles clench. “Relax,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed Stiles easily with nothing less than love. That’s what this was. They weren’t fucking or hooking up, they were making love and it scared Derek shitless but that was the last thing on his mind as he looked down at the man lying before him, offering himself wholly and completely.

Stiles felt relief at the reassurance of his lover and relaxed as best he could, his heart beating rapidly against his chest. His mind and pulse were racing at inhuman speeds, relentless, but everything around him stilled. Derek’s lips stuck to his, making a small noise when they separated from one another. God he loved Derek, he loved him with every atom of his being and had for so long, even if he hadn’t known it.

Feeling Derek rolling his hips, his cock moving in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, it forced Stiles to close his eyes despite his desire to stay locked on Derek. The room was filled with his wanton moans and gasps met with Derek’s grunts and shallow whimpers. The sounds rang like music to Stiles’s ears, listening to his lover as he began to thrust at a more unrelenting pace.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles breathed and flew his lids open to see Derek’s wolf eyes beating down at him. They had both acquired a sheen of sweat, causing their chests to glisten in the light.

“Stiles,” Derek grunted, screwing up his features trying to hold back his release. His stamina was higher than this, but with Stiles it was different. He could look at the boy naked and come, his body begging and screaming for liberation.

The way Derek said his name told Stiles he was close. “Touch me,” he demanded frantically and Derek complied, reaching for Stiles throbbing dick, a constant stream of cloudy precome escaping his slit and pooling on his stomach.

Stroking Stiles’s cock was easy with the mix of sweat, precome, and lube that had accumulated between them. He kneaded the slit with the pad of his thumb then started to stroke again, Stiles’ breath hitching in his throat, something blocking his airway. 

“God, Stiles. I- I love-” Derek faltered for a split second but managed to recover. “Fuck, you’re amazing.” He placed kisses along the man’s spotted jaw and whispered so softly that even a wolf would have trouble hearing. “Come for me.”

Stiles let out a bellowing cry and for the briefest of seconds, Stiles felt his stomach lurch—the feeling you get when you hover in the air right before you come down on a swing. In that moment, everything made sense and the whole world was crystal clear. He looked at Derek for what felt like hours and saw him shining like a star; his beacon of light that would always guide him home—Derek was home.

Stiles’s whole body shuddered violently as he came over Derek’s hand, his body tensing and tightening just before all his limbs went limp. Derek felt the brunette beneath him and around his cock, straining him and pulling his own orgasm with the pressure, having seen the man he loved come because of him. He could watch Stiles come over and over again.

Stiles’ face contorted in the most beautiful of ways, like an angel that wasn’t worthy of his gaze. He emptied himself into Stiles, coating him with his seed and a roar escaped his chest as he collapsed onto Stiles, panting and huffing in sync with the body under him.

They laid there for an unnamed measure of time, Derek now flaccid inside Stiles, both of them too exhausted to move or clean themselves up. After what felt like an eternity, Derek managed to regain some strength and got up to grab a wet cloth. He cleaned Stiles and then himself and after he proceeded to climb back into bed. He pulled Stiles into his side, holding him close and tight, never wanting to let him go again. 

They dozed off effortlessly in each other's arms and under the covers, breathing in each other and living in that moment where the world outside the loft didn’t exist. Just two men deeply and madly in love and they didn’t need another damn thing, this was enough.

***

Derek felt hands on his face, a familiar and longed for touch. His eyes opened but his vision was dark and blurred. “S’iles?” He slurred and felt his head roll as the bathroom swirled around him. “S’you?”

“Derek!? Derek, what happened?” The panic was blatant in Stiles’s voice as he coerced Derek to wake. “DEREK!?” He tapped the man's cheek as Derek’s head started falling.

Derek shook his head and opened his eyes, flashing between their beta color and his natural blues and greens. He groaned and tried to sit up, but had no control over any part of his body.

“Derek...” Stiles searched the man as best he could for the source of the black blood under the fluorescent lights. He pulled up the shirt Derek was wearing and discovered the open and festering wound on his side. “Oh my God. Derek, oh my God. What happened? Shit. Shit shit shit shit.”

Stiles grabbed the hand towel from the wall, which he was certain was less than clean in a place like this, and used it to apply pressure with both hands. A cocktail of curses and prayers escaped Stiles’s lips as his eyes began to well. “Derek, I swear to God…”

Stiles grunted as Derek shifted and contorted his face in pain. That was better than seeing his limp body laying on the floor. “I swear to God if you fucking die I will kill you.”

Derek’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell, laying on the ground. His body went rigid and began convulsing.

“FUCK.” Stiles threw the towel down and turned Derek onto his side as best he could. Stiles sat behind him, Derek’s back leaning against his chest as Stiles used his whole body to keep him in that position.

Tears streaked Stiles’s cheeks and he gritted his teeth, a bottomless terror tearing its way through his chest down into his stomach. He was beyond his depth and felt helpless. He needed to get Derek stable so he could piece together what was happening to him.

Stiles held onto Derek like the man would evaporate if he let go. Screwing his eyes shut he clung so hard his fingers were going numb and his knuckles turning whiter than bone. After finally finding Derek, he wasn’t about to lose him again; he couldn’t. If Derek died, he would die on the floor right next to him.

The seizure lasted less than a minute, but it felt like hours. After Derek finally stilled, Stiles let his head fall onto Derek’s shoulder and he could hear shallow breaths. He relaxed into the unconscious body on the floor and let out a choking sob. He sat there a minute, whimpering and soaked in the black blood that was seeping out of Derek.

Stiles couldn’t move, didn’t want to move, finding peace in Derek’s breathing. In...out. In...out. In...out.

***

“How’s your ankle?” Derek spoke softly as he let his fingers trace the side of Stiles’s arm. He was curled into the older man’s side, a smile on both their faces and eyes closed with contentment. Every once in a while, the brunette’s body would mildly shudder from the sensation of Derek’s touch, it wasn’t his fault he was ticklish. 

“It’s fine.” Stiles hummed and nuzzled closer into Derek’s side.

“I don’t like that.”

Stiles sat up and looked down at his wolf with confusion. “Don’t like what?”

Derek pushed himself up onto his elbows and showed a sympathetic smile. “When you say ‘I’m fine’. You say it too often and I can always tell that you’re not.”

“Well, I am now. More than fine actually.” Stiles was starting to feel marginally defensive. “What about you? You say it too.”

“I do not,” Derek grumbled and laid his head back down, dismissing the discussion, but Stiles wasn’t finished.

“You do so! All the time actually.” Stiles sat straight up and picked up an accusatory tone.

Derek opened a single eye and glared at the boy who was now speaking with his hands.

“Hey Derek, how are you?” Stiles comically deepened his voice, “Fine.” Speaking normally again, “Yo, Derbear, how’s it hanging?” In a mocking timbre, “Fine.”

Derek was not appreciating the antics Stiles was executing.

“Oh my God, Derek! You’re bleeding from everywhere!” In his Derek voice, “I’m fine.”

Derek growled and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He got up and pulled on his briefs, then walked over to the couch to get some space.

“Oh! Real mature. So it’s okay for you to have a problem with something that I do, but the second I have an issue with you, you turn into a toddler.”

“I’m not a toddler.” Derek’s words were hard and gruff, spoken through gritted teeth. He crossed his arms over his chest and refused to look in Stiles’s direction. 

Obviously, that wasn’t going to work, so Stiles leaned over the edge of the bed to find his boxers, then limped his way to sit on the table across from the grumpy wolf. “Really? Because it sure looks like you are to me.” 

Derek looked at Stiles fleetingly and huffed in defiance. 

“Seriously, why do you put these walls up around me? We just had the most...mind-blowing sex, and you opened up to me in ways I didn’t think possible, but you’re still doing this shit.” Stiles hesitated for a moment, pondering the idea of mentioning what he heard in the throes of it all, unsure if it was something that just slipped out or intentionally said. Shit, he didn’t even know if Derek knew he said it. “For fuck’s sake Derek, you told me you fucking love me! Why are you still keeping up these walls?” 

Derek threw up a horrified stare like someone just told him he could never wear a black t-shirt again. Stiles drew into himself, feeling like he shrunk in size, immediately regretting everything that just came out of his mouth. “You need to leave.” Derek looked straight into Stiles’s eyes, bare of any emotion.

“Excuse me?” Stiles widened his eyes and watched Derek stand up and storm off to the other side of the room, his back facing him.

“I said go!” Derek shouted over his shoulder, standing there like an immovable object.

“No! Derek, no. I’m not go-”

“Jesus Christ, Stiles. Just give me some fucking peace!”

Stiles sat frozen, just blinking here and there, not entirely sure if any of this was real. For what was only a minute, in reality, felt like an eternity, but he refused to move and finally spoke up when he processed what the fuck was going on. He didn’t understand it, but he processed it nonetheless.

“Derek…” He heard a grunt from the man. “Please, just listen to me…” He heard no protests, so he continued. “I...I don’t know if you meant it, but…” Stiles paused when he thought he heard a diminutive whine. “...but I do. I get why you do this, I do, but I wish you didn’t keep building yourself up and breaking it all back down in this repetitive and arduous cycle. You show me things, tell me things, that I’m pretty confident you hide from everyone else, but then whenever I try to talk about them with you, you close off and shut down. What are you afraid of? I know you’re scared, I know you’re always scared. You think I don’t see you, but I do. After everything we’ve been through, all the shit we’ve faced...even after this!!”

Stiles took a deep breath and sighed in an attempt to relax and not shout again. That wasn’t his intention, he doesn’t want to make Derek any more defensive. “Even after this, you still can’t trust me.”

Stiles’s words hurt, and Derek wanted to tell him none of that was true, he did trust him, he trusted him with every atom of his being, but something in him, something deep in his gut made him still as stone. Stiles was right about one thing, he was scared, terrified to the point of petrification.

Everyone in his life has left him, whether it be by choice or circumstance, but they left him behind all the same. It became second nature for him to close off, shut people out. Why should he let someone in when they were just going to leave too? Everyone he ever loved or that meant something to him had gone, leaving him alone in this world, taking a piece of him with them when they walked away.

His father, who left him and his mother when he was too young to remember, just the stench of stale cigarettes and smoke. Paige, the first girl he ever loved. Kate, the first woman he loved. His mother, whose death he blames himself for. Cora, finding another pack in South America. Isaac, leaving him to join Scott’s pack. Peter, choosing power over family. So much pain in his memories, the belief he wasn’t good enough and no one wanted him.

“Fine, if you won’t talk to me, I’ll go, but just know…” Stiles felt moisture in his eyes and couldn't hold back the silent tears, burning. Trying not to whimper, he could only manage a whisper. “Just know that I love you. I don’t care about everything else, okay? I’ll never forget the day we met. It was like something clicked, but I didn’t know, not until the pool.” 

Stiles didn’t need to elaborate, because Derek knew the exact moment he was talking about.

“I still hated you, oh yeah, but I loved you too. I hated who you were trying to be, the mask you wore, but I loved the man underneath. That’s all I want Derek, I want you.” Stiles pulled on his pants as best he could with his injury, slipped on his shoes and shirt, and headed for the large metal door. He slid it open and stopped to look at the man he so unashamedly was in love with who hadn’t moved a muscle, then regrettably left.

***

Derek woke to the sensation of a numbing pain throughout his body and loneliness in his stomach. Everything was too sore to move, even the strain of opening his eyes. The early morning light shined through his lids, so he raised an arm over his head and laid it on his face. His mind was slowly catching up and the heavy weight pulled down on his heart when he remembered imaging Stiles amid his delusional state.

Shifting in the bed, Derek became aware that the last time he was conscious, he was on the floor in the bathroom. Derek’s lids flew open and he managed to sit up minimally with his sudden rush of adrenaline. His eyes scanned the bright room, adjusting to the light, and found the familiar speckled face asleep in a chair in the corner. Stiles’s mouth was somewhat open and tiny snores escaped as his chest rose and fell.

Derek attempted to pull himself up in the bed and winced in agony, clutching his side. He leaned back against the headboard, gasping for breaths and closed his eyes to even his breathing. When the pain became manageable again, he opened his eyes to see the boy unmoved.

“Stiles,” Derek spoke softly as to not startle him, but he was unphased. He spoke his name again with more vigor and Stiles almost fell out of the chair with alarm.

“Huh!? What!? Who’s dead!?” Stiles rapidly blinked his eyes, adapting from the darkness to daylight, and pulled himself up in the chair.

“Stiles…” Derek wasn’t impressed with his antics. Maybe he would be if he wasn’t consumed by the torment of his wound, but it was difficult for him to focus on anything else.

Stiles saw the strain on Derek’s face and stood up quickly, racing to the bed and kneeling on the edge. “Derek? Are you okay? Shit. No. I know you’re not okay. What can I do? What happened?”

Stiles continued to spit out question after question until Derek interrupted by repeating his name for a fourth time.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” Stiles shied with embarrassment, knowing the last thing Derek wanted to handle was Stiles’s slew of inquiries. “I’m going to check your side, okay?”

Derek only managed a barely audible grunt and small nod before Stiles began to lift up his shirt. Looking down, Derek realized he wasn’t covered in black blood, and clean clothes had been put on him. “Did you…”

Stiles was focused on the injury and looked up slightly dazed, “What?” His voice was soft and distant.

Derek nodded down towards his body.

Stiles shyly responded, “Oh. Uhm, yeah. It’s no big deal.” He shrugged and pulled Derek’s shirt back down, then got up from the bed. He went back to the chair, slumping down into it. “So what happened? It looks like a bullet wound.”

Derek couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Stiles managed to drag him from the bathroom into the bed, clean him, and change him. Speaking of which, he began to ponder the idea of how he even knew he was here and needed help in the first place.

“It is. How did you find me?” Derek’s throat was raw and dry, along with his lips. He licked them and longed for some water.

Stiles sat forward in his seat, “Doesn’t matter. How did you get shot? Was it laced with wolf’s bane? That could be why you’re not healing. And it explains all the black blood.” Stiles scrunched up his nose at the memory of almost having to cut off Derek’s arm. “I’m not going to have to amputate you from the sternum down, am I?”

Derek growled and rolled his eyes. The sound tore at his throat. “Water.”

“Oh!” Stiles jumped up and found a glass on the table and filled it at the sink. He noticed a bullet laying inside and picked it up. He mindlessly offered the cup to Derek as he inspected the piece of metal in his other hand.

“Stiles…”

“Hmm?” Stiles turned back to Derek and it occurred to him he needed help with the drink. “Oh. Yeah, shit. My bad.” He sat down next to Derek and helped him take some sips. Stiles placed the glass next to the bed on a side table and looked at the bullet again. “It doesn’t look like it’s laced.”

“Because it’s not. Wasn’t hunters.” Derek slouched some, lessening the pressure on his open wound.

Stiles stared at him quizzically, “What were you doing to get shot at by non-hunters? Who even-” Stiles’s eyes widened and he stood up forcefully, “COPS!? Were you being shot at by cops!?”

“No.” Derek was beginning to feel his body worsen and was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

“Who was it then?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m dying anyway.”

Stiles shot daggers at Derek, “You’re not allowed to.”

Derek glared and shook his head, of course, Stiles would be the one to challenge death. He turned in bed, closing his eyes.

Stiles sat down hard on the bed and shook Derek until he opened his eyes and groaned. “Listen, asswolf, we’re gonna figure this out. You were pretty bad before. I didn’t…” Stiles looked down at his hands on Derek’s arm for a moment then raised his eyes back up. “Thing is, you got better, but you’re starting to get shitty again. If it gets as bad as before, I don’t think you’ll come back from that.”

Fear was evident in Stiles’s eyes and Derek wanted nothing more than to reach out and kiss him, tell him it was all going to be okay, but he couldn’t and it destroyed him. A surge of pain ran through Derek’s body and he tensed, letting out a seething breath through his teeth.

“Derek! Fuck!” Stiles reached out again, touching Derek’s arm, and his body instantly relaxed. “Oh my God…” The boy grabbed Derek’s shirt and pulled it up, almost off him completely.

Derek was confused and his lack of clarity and consciousness wasn’t helpful. “What…”

“Shh.” Stiles shushed him sternly and traced his fingers over the black veins from the wound and up Derek’s chest.

Derek shivered at the contact, warm fingers against his cold skin, fingers he felt before and a touch he had ingrained in his memory. Something in him pulsed--his heart, his mind, his blood--he didn’t know but it pushed him and for a fleeting moment he could breathe. Stiles’s fingers left his skin but the feeling of his touch lingered.

Stiles looked at Derek and his eyes appeared more wet than normal, “They’re almost to your heart.”

Derek pulled down his shirt, “I know.”

Stiles pursed his lips and furrowed his brow deep in thought. Derek examined him, scanning his face, every mole, freckle, and shape. He always loved the way his nose was slightly upturned, making it easier to kiss his soft pink lips. God, he desperately wanted to kiss him one last time before he died.

“Stop that!” Stiles lightly punched Derek’s arm but it was still enough to make him recoil in his vulnerable state. “I know that look and I hate it. You’ve given up. You’ve decided that this is it and you’re dying. I’m not turning my back on you this time!”

Tears begged to leave Derek’s eyes and he managed a sad smile. He had forgotten just how relentless Stiles was and how much he loved him for it, even admired it. He was right though, Derek was content with this ending, Stiles with him. Although it wasn’t how he thought he would die, it would be enough--Stiles was enough.

“I said stop it!” Stiles hit Derek again and served him a hard scowl.

“I’m sorry.” Derek closed his eyes in shame and let out a heavy sigh.

Inhaling deep with frustration, Stiles took Derek’s hand into his own. He knew those two words intimately, the same way Derek did. Derek wasn’t apologizing for what he did, but what he didn’t do, or what he felt was not enough.

Stiles took his free hand and brought it to Derek’s face, cupping his cheek and running his thumb under his eye, wiping away the tear before it had a chance to fall. “You still got me.”

Derek’s eyes opened and he tilted his head, gears turning in his mind.

Silence took over as they embraced one another with their glances until Stiles’s eyes widened and he knitted all the pieces together. “Scott!”

“What?” Derek was beyond confused now, certain he was hallucinating.

Hurdling a leg over Derek, Stiles straddled his calves and pushed the shirt up again. “Scott!” He shouted with excitement like it was the answer to all their problems. Engrossed by his own mind and thoughts, he was oblivious to the fact that Derek had no clue what he was referring to.

Shock took over Derek as he was being topped, “Scott?”

Touching the decaying flesh on Derek’s stomach, Stiles pressed gently and looked up to Derek’s eyes. “Yes, Scott. This happened to Scott. I know what’s wrong and I can fix it. Well...I can’t, but I know how. You have to fix it.”

Understanding Stiles was an art, and Derek had mastered it long ago, but it was doing him no good right now. His eyes searched for answers, yet found nothing but joy and hope in Stiles’s eyes. He didn’t comprehend it or know why he was so filled with optimism, but it was enough. “Tell me.”

Stiles settled onto his knees, wiggling into Derek unintentionally. Had this been any other time, Derek would have growled and flipped them over. “Okay. When the alpha pack attacked you and we thought you died, the second time,” Stiles squinted and realized they thought he died four times and was going to bring it back up later because that was unacceptable, “Scott blamed himself. He had been hurt too but he wasn’t healing and it kept getting worse. His blame and guilt prevented his ability to recover and did the opposite. He believed he deserved it, the pain and suffering.” Stiles tilted his head innocently and sighed.

Knowing Derek carried the weight of the world, there was an endless list of things that Derek felt unnecessary guilt for. He had found himself in a vicious self-deprecating cycle and it needed to end. “Why do you feel guilty?”

Derek shied away, hiding his conviction, but Stiles took his chin and turned him back to face him. Stiles wore a sad smile that begged for Derek to open up, he always wanted him to open up, but Derek had always been so frightened. That’s what fucked everything up in the first place. Looking deep into Stiles’s eyes, Derek replied, “You.”

Sitting up straight, Stiles donned confusion. “You feel guilty because of me?” Stiles seemed broken and distressed, leaning back subtly, “I...did I do something wrong?”

Derek sat up quickly, ignoring the surging pain and cupped Stiles’s face, “No! No, no, no. You didn’t do anything. It was me, it was my fault. I did this.” Derek searched Stiles’s eyes and tried to offer a sense of solace but he had nothing to give; at least nothing but the truth.

He pressed his forehead to Stiles’s and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I was so terrified of you. You tangled yourself into me, I didn’t know how to handle that, so I ran. I wanted to tell you everything that day in the loft, I begged myself to, but I was paralyzed. My greatest regret was hurting you after we...and then letting you walk out that door. I didn’t want you to blame yourself or think you did anything wrong. I pushed you away, I made that choice for us. As soon as you left, I packed a bag and just drove as far as I could. I’ve been numbing myself ever since, searching for Kate and helping Chris, that’s how I got shot, one of Kate’s goons.”

Stiles pushed their foreheads apart and glowered at Derek, but kept quiet as to not interrupt.

Tracing his thumb across Stiles’s cheekbone, he continued, “Stiles, you were right. I was beyond afraid of you, of us. Everyone who has ever meant something to me left me alone and took a piece of me with them, I couldn’t open myself back up to that, I couldn’t lose you, so I left before you even had the chance.”

“I would never leave you.” Stiles waited for Derek to keep going, but he kept quiet. Stiles could see in Derek’s eyes that he wanted to believe his words, but couldn’t because of the ghosts in his past, haunting, and lingering. “Derek, I could never leave you. I looked, you know. I searched for you after you left, every day. You’re not easy to find.” Stiles let out a sad laugh. “When you called me last night, I didn’t know who it was, but I heard you say my name. I called out but you didn’t answer. I knew something was wrong, so I may have committed a few felonies by tracing your number. That’s how I found you. I’ll always find you.”

Derek licked his lips, feeling warmth return to them and the rest of his body. He leaned in and tilted his head until they were sharing the same breath. He wanted to kiss Stiles fervently but hesitated for an unknown reason. Something in the back of his mind still holding him back like an invisible chain. He told Stiles everything and knew what Stiles said was true, but he couldn’t feel it.

Stiles sensed Derek’s tentativeness and waited for him to close the gap. His heart was pounding against his ribs and his blood was boiling. He missed Derek desperately and finally found him, he was in his arms but knew he had to let Derek make the move. He laid everything out on the table and knew the only way Derek would start to heal was if he accepted the past and forgive himself.

Derek inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. The final link in the chain, holding him back had to be broken. He couldn’t hide behind his fear anymore because it was killing him, quite literally. He had no reason to keep it inside, and why would he want to. It was time to open up, so what if things didn’t turn out okay? Living a life paralyzed by all the “what if’s” was no way to live. He needed to let go of the past and look to the future, look to what was sitting right in front of him, who was sitting right in front of him.

Leaning in, Derek whispered against Stiles’s lips like a prayer, “I love you too.” That was the final piece, to say out loud what he felt so profoundly in his bones. Stiles had been his guiding light since the day they met. They always seemed to find their way back to each other, meeting in the middle and being what the other needed or was missing. Derek loved him so deeply and wholeheartedly that it was painful, but the pain that lets you know you’re alive. Stiles set a fire in his bones and sparks in his veins, reminding him that it’s okay to live, okay to feel, and okay to be human.

Derek kissed Stiles hard and deep, neither of them noticing the black lines on his arms receding. He wove his fingers into Stiles’s hair and gripped tight, trying to get closer to him, his breathing heavy and deep. He pulled back Stiles’s head and kissed down his neck and over his Adam’s apple down to his clavicle, sucking small purple marks along the way.

Stiles moaned and his open mouth gasped for a breath he couldn’t catch. Derek made his way back to his lips and pulled them down to the bed. Stiles slid his hands up Derek’s sides and across his stomach. He stopped abruptly and stilled, then sat up. Stiles pulled up Derek’s shirt and ran his hand across the place the wound used to reside. “It’s gone.” He looked up to Derek, beaming like the sun itself, “It worked!”

Derek laughed and Stiles grabbed Derek’s face, crashing into his lips. Derek couldn’t help but smile and chuckle between each kiss. Derek flipped them over and rolled his hips between Stiles’s legs, pulling a soft moan from him.

They fit perfectly together, like two halves of a whole. The way their lips slotted together, forming the perfect seal. Derek trailed his hand up Stiles’s arm above his head and slid his fingers into his, fitting together seamlessly.

Derek could lie here with Stiles forever, just kissing him, his lips, neck, collarbone, shoulders. The taste of him lingered on his tongue and it was a flavour he never wanted to wash out. He exhaled and fell into the crevice of Stiles’s neck, scenting him and nestling in.

Stiles ran his hands over Derek’s back, tracing patterns unknown to him and inhaling the scent of Derek. They laid there holding each other, consumed by their love and passion. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for them.

Derek rolled off of Stiles and curled in next to him, Stiles playing with Derek’s fingers as he put the other behind his head for support.

“Come back home.” It wasn’t a question or a demand, but a request. Stiles missed Derek and couldn’t imagine spending another minute without him.

Letting go of Stiles’s hand, Derek raised it to the boy’s face and pecked his lips, “You are my home.”

This was a terrible idea. He didn't know why he had talked himself into this. Derek swallowed the anxious lump forming in his throat as he neared Lydia's house. The party was over. Had been for the better part of an hour. He had made sure of that. He didn't want to see everyone. But he wanted to see Lydia. Thank her for the picture. Thank her for always including him. And he wanted the baby to know it's uncle Derek, even if from a distance. He clutched the gift in his hand tightly, hoping the gift would be enough.

He knocked and held his breath. What if he wasn't wanted? What if she'd changed her mind and didn't want Derek to come after all?

The door opened before Derek could retreat to his car.

"Derek," The red head's eyes widened at the sight of the alpha.

Derek forced a smile and shoved the gift forward into her hands. "Congratulations," he turned to leave but she grabbed his arm.

"Whoa, wait, you can't just leave."

Derek's shoulders slumped. He should have guessed it wouldn't be that easy. He should have just sent the gift through the mail. But he knew that he wanted to see her. To see someone.

She pulled him into a hug then which he couldn't help but return even if hesitantly. He carefully buried his face into her hair, drawing in her scent subtly. God how he'd missed the scent of his old pack. She wore it heavily, having been surrounded by them all afternoon.

"You missed the party," She pointed out as she pulled back, a slightly accusing smirk on her lips.

"That was the point," He dropped his eyes as if in shame.

"Will you at least come in for a few?" Lydia moved aside, showing off the still decorated living room. Gold balloons and streamers littered the air while every surface was covered with a tablecloth or centerpiece to match.

When Derek hesitated Lydia spoke up again.

"At least have a cupcake and let me open the gift?" She looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

Derek could smell the hopefulness radiating off of her.

He hated to say no, but he really shouldn't stay.

Just as he was about to turn down the offer, her hand flew to her stomach.

"Oh. The baby's kicking," she smiled up at Derek. "Want to feel?"

Derek remembered when his mother had been pregnant with Cora, he had been enthralled with her. He loved feeling her kick.

Lydia, seeing Derek's hesitation to say yes, reached out and set his hand on her stomach.

The baby, as if sensing, gave a hearty kick just under Derek's hand.

Derek couldn't help the smile that sprung to his lips.

Lydia lit up. "Come on, please stay, just for a minute."

Derek could only nod.

Beaming with delight, Lydia led him inside, closing the door.

"Where's Jordan?" Derek asked, noticing the lack of the deputy.

"He's making a run to the store for me. I've been craving seltzer water and we ran out," She grinned. "He'll be back shortly."

Derek only nodded.

"I'm glad you came," Lydia lowered herself onto the sofa as Derek took a seat next to her.

"I wasn't going to but..." Derek didn't want to admit how much he missed everyone.

Lydia only smiled.

"I hope you like the gift. I wanted something that the baby would remember me by," Derek frowned down at the small wrapped box on Lydia's lap.

"You talk like they'll never meet you," She frowned.

Derek didn't respond as she carefully opened the gift.

She pulled put a tiny wooden wolf with a triskelion carved into the back. A tiny little ribbon hung from it's mouth with a tapestry attached. On it were the words, 'Not all monsters do monstrous things'.

Lydia looked up at Derek with tear filled eyes. "It's beautiful, Derek."

Derek gave a small smile. He was suddenly uncomfortable. He didn't know how to handle a crying Lydia.

"I know just where to put it," She pushed herself up off the couch with minimal effort.

Derek slumped his shoulders in relief. He was thrilled that she liked it. Now that he had delivered the gift, he could leave.

"Thank you so much for that," Lydia was smiling as she came back into the room. All signs of tears gone, much to Derek's relief.

He stood up and nodded, "I'm glad." He smiled. "I should really be going."

Just then the door opened, and Jordan walked in.

"Lydia, is that Derek's car out-well I'll be." Jordan cut himself off at the sight as he rounded the corner.

"My letter worked," Lydia beamed proudly.

Jordan only shook his head before sticking his free hand out to Derek, "Good to see you again."

Derek accepted it with a nod.

"Oh Derek, we're planning on going to the annual fall festival, you should come with us. I know the others would love to see you," Lydia gushed suddenly, her hands clapping together excitedly.

"Oh, no, I really wasn't planning on-"

"On what, seeing anyone? You were just gonna slip into town drop off that amazing gift and then flit out of town and disappear again for another three years?" Lydia snapped, crossing her arms.

Derek dropped his eyes in shame. That is exactly what he'd planned on doing.

"I shouldn't have come at all."

"Then why did you?"

"I'm gonna guess your letter was quite convincing, honey," Jordan pressed a kiss to his wife's temple, tossing Derek a sympathetic look.

"It was a mistake; I should have just mailed the gift."

Derek's shoulders were now stiff, and Lydia knew he was shutting down. She had to change her tactic.

"Derek, we've missed you. Why do you think we keep inviting you to things? You're always invited. We want you here. Don't you think if the pack found out you were here and didn't say hi, they'd be upset? Come on, just for an hour or two. It means the world to me that you came here for this, don't leave now," She looked up at him with tears in her eyes once more. "I need a recent memory for Baby Parrish about their uncle Derek. Please?" Lydia's voice waivered with threatening tears.

Derek's heart hammered heavily in his chest with panic. How could he say no to her like this? He didn't want to be the reason Lydia cried. What kind of horrible person would he be?

"Okay, fine, one hour. That's it," Derek could handle one hour.

Lydia lit up, all signs of tears suspiciously gone.

-

Derek had been wrong. He could not handle one hour. He had already been bombarded by Erica and Boyd and an old friend from highschool that he hadn't seen in ten years and it hadn't even been fifteen minutes.

Erica had gushed over him being back and how excited the rest of the pack would be once they arrived. Boyd had gently pulled her away when he sensed Derek getting overwhelmed with the promise to catch up later. Derek had been thankful for that. Unfortunately, he'd been instantly pulled into a conversation with an old friend from high school, Nick.

Derek listened as Nick rattled on about things that Derek could not have cared less about. Currently it was about his job at the police station. He was a deputy.

"Oh Derek, let me introduce you to a friend I met through the station. You'll love him, he's witty and hilarious," Nick said, pulling Derek over a few spaces.

Derek allowed himself to be drug towards the table only because Lydia was also there. He shot her a glare.

"Derek this is Stiles. Stiles, I want you to meet an old friend from high school, Derek Hale," Nick introduced.

Derek instantly jerked his eyes from Lydia, across the table, to the man next to Nick.

Stiles was indeed standing next to him. He looked older than the last time Derek had seen him. His hair was longer and the slight scruff on his jawline hadn't been there before.

Derek remembered the day he left well. It was abrupt and he had said goodbye to everyone expect the man in front of him now. Not knowing what else to do he put his hand out to Stiles. A hug would be unwelcomed he knew.

"Derek this is Stiles. Stiles, I want you to meet an old friend from high school, Derek Hale," Nick touched Stiles' shoulder to get his attention, but the name had already pulled Stiles from his conversation with the concession lady.

His eyes landed on the alpha, not believing what he was seeing. He hadn't seen the man in three years and now he was standing here in front of him.

Stiles tried to parse the emotions he was feeling, but there were too many. Happiness, confusion, sadness, anger, relief. He did his best to keep his expression blank. However, when Derek stuck his hand out to him, all the emotions morphed into one. Anger. Was he really going to pretend he didn't know him? Suddenly he wondered if maybe he didn't remember him. It had been three years after all and his appearance had changed some. Sure, Stiles had thought he meant more to the alpha, but that was before he left without so much as a goodbye.

"Nice to meet you," Stiles answered stiffly, taking Derek's hand.

Derek's stomach knotted at Stiles' words. Did Stiles not recognize him? He tried to get a whiff of the human's scent but there were far too many in the air. The festival was too chaotic with sounds and scents for Derek's senses to be of any use to him right now.

"You too," Derek gave a forced smile. Lydia had said everyone missed him. Had she lied? Derek hadn't thought to question it. Hadn't thought to listen for any upticks in her heartbeat. Perhaps Stiles was only pretending. But why?

At that moment Jordan stepped up to Nick, pulling him away for some reason Derek didn't bother to pay attention to. His attention wouldn't leave the man in front of him.

"Excuse me," Stiles said before turning and heading off into the crowd.

Derek wanted to call out, to follow after the human, but he remained still, unmoving.

"What the hell was that?" Lydia snapped, sending a smack up against Derek's head then.

"Ow, what?" Derek hissed, turning to face the annoyed red head.

"Did you two seriously just pretend you didn't know each other?" Lydia crossed her arms over her chest with a huff.

"He acted like he didn't remember so I-"

"Don't be a dumbass, Derek. He didn't forget you. How could he?" Lydia cut in, not bothering to let Derek finish whatever dumb thing he was about to say.

"We weren't exactly close," Derek shrugged. He knew on some level that was a lie. At least for him. Before he'd left Stiles had become his anchor. It was what had made Derek leave. He'd grown to care for the human too much. He couldn't bare it. He got scared and he ran. Just like he always did.

"You're kidding, right?" Lydia gave Derek and incredulous look. "You two were always together.

"For pack purposes," Derek insisted.

"I don't care what the purpose was. You were always together, and you grew close. Anyone could see it. He took it hard when you left. We all did but he took it the hardest. You didn't even say goodbye," Lydia's eyes were accusing now.

"I left him a note," Derek gave a half shrug. He knew it was a shit way to do it. But it had been the only way he could.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "He deserves an apology or an explanation at least."

"I don't have one to give," Derek dropped his eyes. Not one that he was willing to admit anyway.

"I think you do. You're just too afraid. But he deserves something. It wasn't fair. And now, pretending like you two are strangers. That's..." Lydia shook her head, disappointment covering her features.

Derek turned to see Erica with Stiles. He looked animated and angry.

"Does he hate me?" Derek dared ask.

"I wouldn't say hate, but I will say...he didn't want me sending the invite to his dad's retirement party a few months back. The sheriff overruled him."

That stung in a way Derek couldn't describe. Stiles didn't want him here. Lydia had lied. Not everyone missed him. Stiles didn't. The one person Derek missed most.

As if hearing his thoughts, the human's eyes met his across the crowded field. He turned then and headed for the parking lot.

Without thinking Derek was following after him.

Stiles' eyes met Derek's and he knew instantly that there was indeed recognition in them. Erica had been right. Derek remembered him. Somehow that didn't help the ache in his chest. It only stirred the anger boiling in his gut. He turned and headed for the exit. He needed to get out of there.

As he managed to reach the quiet of the back parking lot, he heard that familiar voice say his name.

Anger surged through Stiles as he whipped around to face the alpha. "Oh are we done pretending to be strangers?" he snapped.

Derek frowned, taken a back by Stiles' harsh tone. "You're the one who acted as if we'd never met."

"Me? You offered me your hand like some random passerby," Stiles scoffed.

"I felt that maybe you wouldn't be okay with a hug like everyone else," Derek's shoulders slumped.

"Everyone else," Stiles looked stricken.

Derek could smell the hurt start to seep off of him.

"Not everyone, but-"

"I don't think I want to hear it," Stiles cut Derek off then, his tone quiet as he turned to walk away.

Derek caught the human's arm. "Stiles wait."

"What do you want, Derek?" Stiles sighed.

Derek was suddenly at a loss for words. He didn't know why he'd followed Stiles out here. Hearing that he had been so distraught by his leaving had devastated him. He was sure Stiles wouldn't care. He'd been wrong.

"I'm sorry," Derek blurted then.

Stiles frowned. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Derek repeated, his hand now releasing Stiles slowly. "I didn't know leaving would upset you so much."

"How could you? You never called," Stiles snapped.

Derek winced slightly but didn't respond.

"You didn't even say goodbye," Stiles' tone was softer now, full of the vulnerability he clearly was feeling.

"I left a note," Derek frowned up at the human.

Stiles let out a scoff, "A piece of paper that said 'take care of it' with that leather jacket I always threatened to steal wasn't a suitable goodbye, Derek. In fact, I was confused, and it just hurt."

Derek dropped his head to his chin.

"Everyone else got a goodbye, why not me?"

Derek swallowed, closing his eyes. "Stiles..." Derek's tone was hesitant.

"I know that tone, don't give me that tone. I want to know," Stiles growled. It may have been three years since the two had seen each other, but they had known each other well. And Stiles knew that tone meant Derek was going to try and skirt the question.

"It's complicated-"

"Just tell me," Stiles cut in.

Derek looked up, his eyes sympathetic.

"Damn it, Derek, why? What did I do? I thought after everything we'd been through; I deserved a goodbye. A real one. I guess I was wrong, and I just want to know-"

"Because I knew you could talk me into staying and I couldn't allow that," Derek cut in sharply, his voice raised slightly so he could talk over Stiles'.

Stiles looked taken aback.

"Everyone tried to talk me into staying and I knew you'd try too, and I knew that you'd be able to talk me out of leaving. I couldn't let you," Derek lowered his voice, his eyes dropping in shame at the admittance.

"Why couldn't you just stay?" Stiles' voice was quieter now too.

Derek looked up, his eyes meeting the whiskey brown ones he loved so much. "I don't have an answer for you."

"Why not?" Stiles snapped, once again angry.

Derek closed his eyes. He shouldn't have come back here. This had been a terrible idea. Not only had he learned how much he'd hurt Stiles by leaving but he was hurting him now. The smell that hung in the air between them told him that. Sure, Stiles was angry, but he was also hurting. It was just layered beneath the anger and it was because of Derek.

"I'm sorry," He didn't know what else to say.

"I don't want your apologies, Derek. I want answers," Stiles snapped, stepping in towards the alpha, as if he could make Derek tell him what he wanted to know.

"It won't help the situation," Derek shook his head.

"Are you kidding me? As if you could make it worse? You've already built a wreck out of me, what more are you hoping to accomplish?" Stiles scoffed, throwing his hands up, as he backed away.

Derek frowned at Stiles.

"Oh come on, Derek. You couldn't possibly have thought you leaving wouldn't affect me. I was in love with you, you knew that. It's why you left that damn leather jacket, isn't it?" Stiles snapped. The malice in his tone felt good. He'd wanted to call Derek out on this for years.

Derek's brows shot up and his lips parted in surprise.

Stiles' eyes widened suddenly. "Wait, you didn't know?"

Derek didn't respond as he tried to process what Stiles had just said.

"Oh. Oh god. Okay. You're more oblivious than I thought. How could you not have known? Couldn't you smell it on me? Scott said it was super obvious. Everyone knew," Stiles ran one hand through his hair and flailed the other one as he spoke.

"I left because of you," Derek whispered then, causing Stiles to pause mid flail.

"What?"

"You became my anchor. I had fallen in love with you and I panicked. That's why I left," Derek's tone was still quiet.

Stiles gaped at Derek. "Are you kidding me?"

"No," Derek shook his head. He stepped towards Stiles, his fingers touching just under his chin.

Stiles didn't move.

"I'm sorry that I left. I'm an idiot. I didn't know how to cope with what I was feeling, and I didn't think you'd care," Derek brushed his fingers along Stiles' jaw.

"How could you know? You didn't talk to me about it," Stiles responded, his eyes not looking away from Derek's.

"I was too scared," Derek admitted.

Stiles scoffed. He never imagined Derek being afraid of anything like that. "But I don't understand how you didn't know about my feelings for you." He frowned at the alpha.

"Your scent never changed around me," Derek shrugged, "Not since you started trusting me that summer back in-" he cut himself off.

A blush filled Stiles' cheeks.

"That long? Really Stiles?" Derek smirked with a roll of his eyes.

"What, I was seventeen and we spent a lot of time together looking for the alpha pack, sue me," Stiles shrugged.

Derek couldn't help the grin that pulled at his lips.

"I fall hard and fast, okay?"

"I never even noticed," Derek shook his head, his thumb tracing along the stubble that had grown along Stiles' jaw.

"If you had, would you have stayed?" Stiles asked, curious eyes boring into Derek's.

"Yes," Derek nodded. He was sure he wouldn't have had the heart to leave knowing Stiles felt the same way.

Suddenly Stiles' lips were on Derek's.

Derek's other hand came up to cup the other side of Stiles' face as Stiles' hands fisted in Derek's shirt.

"Stiles," Derek pulled back, resting his head on Stiles'.

"Please don't," Stiles begged, closing his eyes. "Don't tell me you don't love me anymore, or that you have someone else back home. I can't bare it." His voice was a whisper between them.

"No, no, of course not," Derek let out a breathy laugh. "I just wanted to make sure you wanted to do this. I was an idiot and I don't deserve you."

"I forgive you, Derek," Stiles closed the gap, connecting their lips once more.

When Derek was younger his mom used to tell him of stories of kings and queens. He used to dream of meeting his king or queen one day. After the fire he was certain he'd be fine without one. Preferred it in fact, but then he met Stiles. And right now, in his arms, he knew, there's nowhere he'd rather be.

*AN*

Inspired by the song Oh Calamity by All Time Low