The thing is, Derek has successfully remained single for the past three years, ever since Jennifer. He’s done this despite the numerous people who have asked him out, and the few people his family has tried to set him up with who they swear have been vetted and are not psychopaths. His second book isn’t a top bestseller, but it’s doing well for a non-fiction book that doesn’t deal with something racy or trendy. He’s become fairly well respected in the field of werewolf rights, and books a steady stream tv talking head gigs, convention panels and college speaking tours. His mother, four term Senator Talia Hale is several months into her primary campaign to become president. She’s been a bit of a controversial figure, being an outspoken Alpha werewolf, but her supporters are as passionate and loud as she is, so she’s been gaining ground. The main opponent in her own party, John Stilinski, former Governor of California, and an ex marine and former Sheriff to boot is less controversial but, well, his son is apparently divisive enough for the both of them. So things are going well for Derek. He’s doing well, his family is doing well, and his love life can’t be a disaster if he doesn’t have one. And then on a whim he decides to look up Stilinski’s son

The ‘Sheriff’ (as they call him) is a well known widower, with one child with an unpronounceable Polish name and the improbable nickname of ‘Stiles’. Stiles is still only a senior in college but has already made a name for himself for his social media presence, controversial youtube channel and series of op eds in a number of publications. Stiles is sarcastic, outspoken, and generally considered either a future leader of his generation or an ignorant menace, looking for attention by trying to disrupt the status quo. Derek has heard mentions of him here or there, seen a couple headlines but there are a lot of young people trying to make waves so he’d mostly ignored it. Stiles seems to run in a circle full of a truly diverse variety of supernaturals, maybe even more than Derek does, and that piques his interest, but it’s not until his mother’s campaign against Stiles’ father really starts to heat up that he finally breaks down and looks the guy up.

He’s making dinner, finally back at his apartment in New York after a long series of lectures at various midwestern universities, and after checking his email and marking ones he really should finally reply to, he opens a new tab and quickly youtube searches Stiles’ name, clicking the first video which appears to be some sort of camera phone footage of Stiles getting arrested for trespassing during some kind of protest.

Derek turns back to the stove while the video loads, stirring the vegetables in the pan idly when the sound turns on behind him and he can hear the video starts to play.

“Oh yeah, you think being a cop makes you a big tough Alpha huh,” an out of breath voice says in the video. There’s a loud of extra noise in the background, crowds shouting, a not so distant siren. “Don’t you feel any shame for betraying your fellow Supes like this? They’re fighting for your rights and you’re arresting them?”

Derek freezes, his hair standing on end and his heart beating quicker. There’s something about that voice. He’s never heard it before but that voice, that voice. He turns off the stove, dropping the spatula carelessly to the side and turns so he can see the video.

“Your father would be ashamed of you, making trouble for officers like this,” a deeper voice cuts in, and the video is shaky, unfocused for a moment as the crowd moves. It focuses back up and Derek says that it’s a cop speaking, a big bulky Alpha werewolf who’s hauling away a guy in his late teens or early twenties maybe. Slender but not scrawny, his brown hair is sticking in every direction, glasses askew and a bruise blossoming along one of his cheeks. The guys seems to be practically snarling in anger, although he appears to be human, and he’s fighting the cop every step of the way.

“You call this trouble?” the guy, Stiles, Derek thinks says, smirking now and with mischief all over his face. “You haven’t seen trouble yet, I’m gonna get a baseball bat wrapped in mistletoe and shove it…”

The video cuts out. Derek sits down on the floor, feeling shaky. He reaches forward and grabs his laptop off the table, dinner forgotten. He clicks on the next video, which at least seems to be Stiles and a couple of his friends talking anti-supernatural bias in STEM fields. It’s past midnight when Derek finally really comes back to himself. It feels simultaneously like everything he’s been waiting for has clicked into place, and also like being separated from Stiles means there’s something completely misaligned with the universe. He’s watched dozens of video of Stiles now, dumb ones he’s made and posted, speaking at protests and events, just videos of Stiles standing by his father’s side with his dad made a speech either at a campaign event or ones back when he was Governor. It’s dizzying, how much he feels like he knows Stiles already, although he knows that’s a dangerous line of thinking to go down, so he tries to reel himself back.

Derek has never heard of someone recognizing their mate simply by seeing a video or hearing a recording. A quick google search of the phenomenon doesn’t reassure him either. It’s mostly a series of news articles of various people getting restraining orders filed against them when they’ve become convinced that some celebrity they’ve never met is their mate.

Christ. This is what it’s come to, Derek thinks mournfully. Lumped into a category with stalkers and groupies. He’s truly lost it. He throws away his ruined dinner and goes to bed, thinking maybe after a good night’s sleep he’ll wake up and find himself back to normal.

XX

Things are not back to normal in the morning. If anything, it’s worse. All Derek can think about is what must Stiles’ scent be like. What does his heart beat sound like up close. How good it must feel to be the one to make Stiles laugh. What it would be like to have someone with that much passion by his side, fighting for the things they apparently both care for, who will argue with him and for him and won’t ever, ever be boring.

Derek sets down a few ground rules for himself. He strictly refuses to let himself follow Stiles on any sort of social media. Derek barely uses facebook but he does keep up on twitter, posting links to articles or occasionally answering questions. Actually, he thinks, he’s probably even come across some of Stiles’ tweets on his timeline and just not realized it. He briefly thinks about just going ahead and blocking Stiles, but isn’t sure if Stiles would be able to tell that, and thinks maybe that would just draw more attention to himself. But he can’t let himself look Stiles up on any of his accounts, that’s veering far too close to stalker territory and he can’t let himself go down that road. Instead he decides to take a break from social media. He doesn’t delete anything, but he stops himself from checking a couple times a day.

He lets himself briefly peruse Stiles’ wikipedia page. This, he thinks, is not entirely unreasonable. It doesn’t go into too many personal details, just a few paragraphs outlining his roles as the Sheriff’s son, where he grew up, the loss of his mother at a young age. There are a few lines about the trouble Stiles has gotten in and where he goes to school, but most of it relates to his father and most of it is common knowledge anyways.

Finally, he allows himself to watch one video of Stiles week. It’s all public and out there, and their parents are running election campaigns against each other.

Maybe by watching Stiles a little bit each week, he’ll develop an immunity, of sorts, to this unlikely connection he feels, Derek lies to himself.

An agonizing month passes, since Derek first heard Stiles’ voice in a crappy youtube video. The primary campaigns are running at full steam as they head into summer and Derek has avoided booking any new speaking engagements going forward in order to support her on the campaign trail. They are maybe a month or so away from the first debate between Talia and the Sheriff, and Derek knows both their families will be expected to attend in support and it’s a fact that preys at his mind late at night.

Derek isn’t sure whether he should be trying to pull strings in order to meet Stiles, or if he should be going out of his way to make sure their paths never cross. If Stiles is his mate, he sometimes thinks, shouldn’t he be doing everything in his power to find him? Won’t Stiles want to know? But then, he thinks, what if he is just crazy. What if his lonely heart has been so broken so many times by false hopes and manipulation that it just latched onto an appealing voice and face, and this dead certainty he has that he and Stiles are mated is, in fact, false. How could he impose a situation like that on someone like Stiles? And how could Derek survive the disappointment?

He ends up deciding to go with cowardice. Of course as soon as he’s made the decision is when Fate throws Stiles, quite literally, directly in his path.

XX

Derek had been so concerned about running into Stiles at some sort of campaign event that he had completely failed to be on guard about possibly running into Stiles anywhere else in his life.

Even limiting himself to one video of Stiles a week has taught Derek that Stiles has opinions on just about everything, and there’s been increasing talk in the Hale campaign about the Sheriff’s outspoken son and which of his causes also align with his father’s and which are just his own and how they can use that. Derek forces himself to keep his mouth shut and not ask any questions or volunteer any information that he’d have to explain how he got. But it gets him thinking, about how he’s an expert in werewolf history and culture and rights, but has been so focused on his own field of study that he hasn’t given much time to any of the other causes that Stiles seems to be incredibly educated on.

He has a free weekend in the middle of June, and sets up an appointment with Professor Yukimura at the University of Georgetown down in DC. He’s been spending time at his mom’s campaign headquarters in DC so he won’t even have to travel to meet with her. She’s an old family friend, and an expert on kitsunes, but having been alive for hundreds of years Derek knows she’ll have a font of information that could maybe help point him in the right direction if he wants to broaden his horizons.

It’s a good meeting. Derek has to hedge as to why he has such a sudden interest in other supernatural rights and cultures, which Noshiko just takes with a knowing smile, but he was right. The depth of her knowledge is fascinating, and he leaves the meeting with a list of books to read and people to contact. She agrees to get lunch with him again once the campaigns are all over and he has more time, and is just ushering him out of her office when an out of breath human collides with his chest before crashing down on the floor in the hall.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, crouching down and holding one hand out to steady the guy sprawled on the floor, but freezes when he looks up and their eyes meet.

It’s Stiles.

“Oh my,” Noshiko says over Derek’s shoulder as Stiles ignores Derek’s hand and stands up. Derek stands as well, but neither of them look away. “Oh this is a good person for you to meet, Derek this is…”

“Stiles,” Derek blurts out before he can stop himself, then winces, because stalker much? “I’m Derek Hale.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles says slowly, and at least that much is a relief. Stiles must know him because of the campaign, which makes it less weird that Derek recognizes him. Noshiko gives him a look and Derek politely holds out his hand. Stiles takes it and Derek almost gasps at the feeling. Stiles has long fingers and warm, firm grip. His skin is smooth, and god, Derek wants to bring Stiles’ hand up so he can press his lips against his knuckles but that would be wildly inappropriate so he doesn’t just keeps staring. Stiles stares back, eyes intense as if waiting for something, and for one brief shining moment Derek thinks this is it, that Stiles feels it too and is about to say something, but then Stiles abruptly pulls his hand away. Shakes it out, like he’s trying to get rid of the feeling of Derek’s touch.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, taking a step back. “Sorry Professor Yukimura, I’ll come back later I have to…”

Stiles trails off, gives Derek one more strange look and then bolts down the hallway, leaving a waft of his scent behind that Derek breathes in deeply.

“He’s been visiting the campus this week, looking at it for grad school in case his father will be in DC next year,” Noshiko says, giving Derek another knowing look. “He’ll probably be back tomorrow.”

“Oh, well,” Derek says helplessly. He’s not sure what Professor Yukimura is getting at, just knows he needs to get out of there before he truly makes a fool of himself in front of her. Somehow he’s polite as he says his goodbyes to her, then blindly takes a cab back to the hotel he’s staying at.

He’d known this was one sided, right? He’d told himself again and again he was imagining things, that while he thought Stiles was his mate that there was no way Stiles would somehow also feel that way. People didn’t discover their mates through youtube, that wasn’t how it worked and he’d known that. So why did he feel so bereft now that he knew for sure?

His hand tingles for the next week.

XX

He spends the rest of the month wallowing as much as his family will allow. Thankfully everyone is so busy balancing the campaign and the rest of their lives that they don’t have much time to bug him about his recent mood beyond occasionally asking if he’s okay in passing. By the time the first debate of four rolls around he’s pulled himself together a little. Better that he knows, he tells himself. He’s prepared now. He knows Stiles will be there to support his dad, at each of the debates. Derek will probably have to see him. But he got that first meeting out of the way, and he can brace himself now, for what Stiles looks like up close. What he smells like. What the rabbit-fast beat of his heart sounds like. The way his eyes glow gold as he looks up at Derek through his long eyelashes.

He and Stiles don’t talk much, when they do encounter each other at the debates and the occasional campaign event or luncheon where both candidates and their families are required to be at. Mostly Derek either just stares at him, or is forcing himself not to stare at Stiles. Sometimes when he’s made himself look at something, anything else while they’re in the same room, his skin feels hot and the back of his neck itches, but when he turns to see if Stiles is looking at him, his face is turned determinedly away from Derek.

When they do talk it’s generally stilted pleasantries. Occasionally Derek finds himself getting snippy at Stiles, and Stiles is sharp with him in return. Derek tries to convince himself that Stiles is just reacting to his own behavior, but some hurt part of him wonders if maybe Stiles just hates him.

“What is going on with you two?” Laura murmurs to him on the night of the last debate after Stiles has stalked off after a short barbed exchange of words between the two of them back stage.

“Nothing,” Derek says. But he can’t tear his eyes away from Stiles’ retreating figure until it’s lost from sight.

XX

The night of the third debate there are technical difficulties. Things are delayed and Derek ends up lurking in an empty hallway on the other side of the university building from where the event is happening. He hears footsteps approaching and thinks maybe Peter has tracked him down to berate him for his recent behavior, but then he gets a whiff of that rich, bright scent he’s caught only once before and he straightens just in time to see Stiles step into the hallway.

“Hi,” Derek says stupidly. Stiles looks amazing. He managed to avoid anyone putting product in his hair tonight and it looks touchably soft and a little wild, in contrast with the extremely closely tailored deep charcoal gray suit he’s wearing. Derek’s heart pounds in his chest, and he’s momentarily grateful Stiles isn’t a wolf to hear it.

“Hi,” Stiles says, walking forward a bit. He looks hesitant, scratching absently at his chin with one hand, a nervous tic Derek had noticed in some of his videos. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Sure,” Derek says. Stiles nods once, then leans against the wall a couple feet away from where Derek has been idly standing, hands in his pockets.

“I overheard something I maybe shouldn’t have,” Stiles says. He licks his lips once, looking away before focusing back on Derek. “But also I can’t stop thinking about it. And if I’m right, well I think maybe we need to talk.”

“What did you hear,” Derek asks. He feels vaguely lightheaded at Stiles’ words.

“Your sisters were talking,” Stiles says. “They were on the other side of a curtain, and there were so many people around, I don’t think they could tell I was there. I’d say I didn’t mean to listen in but that’d be a lie. But I thought I’d maybe hear some campaign or debate stuff. I really didn’t mean to hear anything personal, you have to believe that.”

“What did they say,” Derek asks, swallowing hard.

“Laura said your heart goes nuts every time you see me,” Stiles says. “She said you can’t stop staring at me. She said that you haven’t been yourself since we met.”

“She said that,” Derek hedges.

“Yes,” Stiles says, looking him straight in the eye. “Is it true?”

“Yes,” Derek replies, finally. No matter how much this may hurt to admit, Stiles deserves nothing but the truth from him. If nothing else, Derek will never be someone who lies to or uses Stiles for anything. “It’s true.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything to that, just keeps staring, his eyes jerking across Derek’s face like it might tell him something. His heartbeat is going wild in his chest, but Derek doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He forces himself to take a deep breath and unclench his fists. He doesn’t want to look threatening to Stiles, not now.

“You think we’re mates,” Stiles says.

“Yes,” Derek says, heart in his throat.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Stiles asks finally, after another conflicted look.

“I thought it was one sided,” Derek says, shaking his head. Stiles barks out a bitter laugh that Derek can’t parse. “I had seen a video of you. Online. And I just knew. But it seemed crazy, I looked it up and nobody meets their mate that way, from that kind of distance. I thought maybe it was just me, imagining things. And then when we met, you didn’t say anything, didn’t react.”

“Oh, I reacted,” Stiles says.

“Your heart was racing, but you’d been running, and had just been knocked over,” Derek says. “I thought if you didn’t feel if after we shook hands, then you must not have felt the bond at all.”

“Shook hands, wait what?” Stiles says.

“Outside of Professor Yukimura’s office,” Derek says slowly. “Last month.”

“What the fuck, are you kidding me?” Stiles exclaims.

“What,” Derek says, defensively. “You ran into me, we shook hands. You stared at me like I was a lunatic and then you couldn’t get away from me fast enough, what was I supposed to think?”

“Derek, we met like three years ago,” Stiles says, eyes sharp.

“What?” Derek says, horrified. “No. No I would have known if we’d met before.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “You had just graduated, but your book had already been published and you came to speak about werewolf’s rights at a symposium at UCLA. I was this asshole freshman who thought he knew everything so after the panel I stood up and asked some smart-ass question about discrimination against bitten wolves in the werewolf community. You put me in my place pretty quick, but the moment our eyes met and you started talking, I just knew. Even across the auditorium. But you snapped at me when you answered. And after the panel I tried to find you, but you’d already left. The organizer said you’d left immediately after to catch a flight. I figured if you’d felt it too, you would have stuck around even if it was just to tell me ‘thanks but no thanks’.”

“Oh my god,” Derek says.

“So how’s that for irony, I thought it was one sided too,” Stiles says, tilting his head to the side.

“I had recently been poisoned with a love potion,” Derek says. “All my senses were still dulled. I had been given an antidote and was healing but everything felt off. If I felt any different that day I probably would have just chalked it up to still being sick.”

“Damn,” Stiles, stepping forward and placing his hand on Derek’s bare forearm. It’s the first time they’ve touched since they shook hands at the university and Derek shivers. “I heard rumors about that years later from my Dad, but I didn’t know when it happened and didn’t make the connection that it was around the same time as when I’d seen you.”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “My girlfriend Jennifer was desperate to have an in with my family, so she used a love spell on me a week or two before that trip. I wasn’t at my best, and I probably should have cancelled that panel, but everyone in my family was acting like I was broken when they found out what happened and I was so determined to keep acting like everything was normal. I’m sorry about that, jesus. Stiles. I’m sorry you’ve been going through this alone.”

“Well it’s not like what you’ve been through sounds like a walk through the park either,” Stiles replies. “God she must’ve messed with your ability to bond with other people. Your end of the bond was blocked, so it wasn’t until you saw that video of me that some nascent part of your bond was finally reset. That’s so messed up.”

“Yeah, it was,” Derek says, and it’s a relief to admit it. He’d thought he’d gotten over it over the past few years, but now, knowing what it cost him he feels a low swell of anger all over again.

“Jennifer is in jail, right?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah, and once I realized what was going on and turned her in they found she was into a lot of other dark magic too, she got twenty years,” Derek says.

“Good,” Stiles says fiercely, a dark look in his eyes. “Because otherwise I’d fucking kill her.”

“Stiles,” Derek says helplessly. He thinks he should object, but it just feels good, finally having Stiles’ passion and protectiveness directed at him.

“I mean it,” Stiles says, huffing angrily. “What she did, twisting that kind of magic for some self-serving, manipulative....”

Derek cuts Stiles off, mid sentence, but stepping forward and pressing his lips against Stiles’ lips. It’s awkward for a moment, Stiles’ mouth moving like he’s still trying to form words, but then Stiles melts against him, bringing his hands up to Derek’s chest and tilting his head for a better angle. The kiss deepens, and Derek lets himself touch, finally, running his own hands down Stiles’ sides, resting on his slim hips.

This time when they touch, that crack that has resided in Derek’s chest for so long finally shifts back into place, and it’s like the universe is aligned the way it should be. Stiles moans into his mouth and Derek feels warm and lit up from the inside out. He doesn’t know how long they kiss, just that eventually Stiles pulls back, his mouth swollen and red, Derek’s hands buried in his hair.

“Oh god, our parents are running competing political campaigns,” Stiles groans, resting his forehead against Derek’s. “How much do you think they’ll kill us when they find out about this. I’m sleeping with the enemy.”

“Not yet you aren’t,” Derek says, and Stiles looks at him hungrily. “But I mean, they don’t have to find out right away.” Honestly he’s not looking forward to his mother’s reaction when she finds out. He’s smiling though, doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop. Stiles is his mate. Stiles is his mate.

“You mean like keep it a secret?” Stiles asks, looking up and interrupting Derek’s internal celebration. Derek’s surprised, but kind of relieved to see that Stiles doesn’t look mad about the idea, instead he looks rather eager. “Like some kind of sexy secret, where we sneak around, making out in darkened corners of debate venues and convention halls? Oooh we could get burner phones.”

“If you want,” Derek says. He kisses Stiles again, because he can do that now. And honestly the idea of stealing Stiles away from the cameras and the journalists and the campaigns and kissing him where no one can see while everyone thinks they’re on opposing sides has it’s appeal.

“But once my dad wins, actually it’ll be a good thing,” Stiles says, pulling back. “We’ll need party unity and what better to promote that than a mating bond between the kids of two former opponents.”

“What makes you think your dad will win,” Derek says, distracted by the way Stiles’ plump lower lip shines. “Could be my mom.”

“Oh god, we’re gonna have to lay down some ground rules about campaign talk,” Stiles says, but then he leans forward and they’re kissing again.

“I think we can work something out,” Derek says. “I can’t believe we could've been mated three years ago.”

“I’m, like, crazy mad about that, believe me,” Stiles says. “But I guess a couple years is not that long in the grand scheme of things. We still have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”