Happy New Year
Derek/Stiles || PG || ~2k || AO3 Summary: Once upon a time, the loft was where Stiles was asked if he liked boys. Now, years later, he knows he does. A/N: Written for the @fullmoonficlet challenge - prompt #361: kissÂ
For the first time since that one blacklight party, the loft is filled with the sounds of electronica and more noise than it has heard in years. Stiles didn't even know that Derek still owned the building until he got the text message from Scott about the party that was planned in it for New Year's Eve this year.
They're all back, the whole pack, for the first time in years. Until now, every holiday there was someone missing, someone who couldn't make it back to Beacon Hills for some reason. Stiles himself only barely made it back while he was in college and then in FBI's training academy. Now that he's working, it's not easy to get time off either but since he's been assigned to the California office as a liaison for all things supernatural, it's been a little less complicated to visit his dad and meet up with everyone else.
The pack being what it is and scattered across the world as it is, they're all involved with the Bureau in one way or another -- Lydia consults at the HQ in DC, Scott's holding down the fort locally, Jackson and Ethan work with MI5 in London, even Isaac has helped a few times in France after Chris suggested him to Interpol. Stiles doesn't hear from Cora or Peter much but he knows that at least one of the Hales has their fingers in cases involving creatures of the night. He's not even trying to guess what Peter is up to though.
The younger pack members are not permanently in town anymore though they do visit more often. Kira's parents moved back to New York but she's nearby since her training with the Skinwalkers continues now, though no longer on a permanent basis now that she's better able to control her inner fox. Mason and Corey went to the east coast for college but Liam stayed home, following in Scott's footsteps into the veterinary career.
Tonight, they're all here though, along with friends they've made since on their varied paths. When Jackson and Ethan showed up with Danny in tow, Stiles refused to ask questions lest they prompt ones about his own father and the relationship that Stiles tries really hard not to pay attention to. The older generation is here tonight too, from the pack's parents to Jordan and even Coach who hasn't moved from Natalie Martin's side.
Stiles is still taking in in, though he's been here since early afternoon as everyone started arriving and the music started. The building is vibrating with the bass line and the lights are off, letting the UV paint glow on everyone's faces and bodies as they move to the rhythm. A lot of those who can be drunk are definitely getting to the limit of what they can handle -- not Stiles's dad or Melissa, who seem to be content to be the holders of keys and unofficial chaperones, not that this is a high school dance -- and those who don't feel the effects of alcohol are following the others' lead to keep the pretense.
There are enough strangers that the pack is keeping their supernatural side under wraps. Stiles figures that once it's a little past midnight, only those in the know will stay and the claws and fangs will be more likely to come out. Especially since the next full moon is not too far.
But there's one person Stiles has barely seen all night, even though it's his building and his loft. And they're all here with his permission, unlike during the previous party that happened here, the one that Stiles remembers all too clearly. This one is not likely to be interrupted by Oni, at least.
When he's had his fill of catching up with everyone and his eyes begin to blur from the strobe lights, Stiles decides that it's time to get away from it all. Instead of leaving altogether -- midnight is close and he figures at least some of the others will be looking for him then -- he heads for the balcony where he knows the glass will keep the noise away.
It takes him a moment to realize that he's not alone out there. He spots a dark figure leaning on the half wall on the far side of the balcony, looking out at the town's warehouse district, now rebuilt into an area filled with shops and office spaces, even some residential buildings. When he was driving to the loft earlier, it took Stiles a while to process how much this part of Beacon Hills has changed from the place he knew and how little resemblance it has to the derelict space where they've fought more fights than he can count.
"You hiding?" Stiles asks quietly, knowing he'll be heard.
Derek turns his head and light hits his face, revealing an amused expression.
"Just looking for quiet," he answers. "Guess that plan didn't go too well," he adds and the corner of his lips twitches.
"I can leave you be," Stiles says, though something in his chest twists uncomfortably at the thought of being unwanted, especially right here and now.
"No, don't," Derek tells him, a little faster than Stiles would have let himself hope. "I was kidding."
"Okay."
Stiles walks closer though he keeps his distance still, leaning on the balcony a few feet away from Derek and looking down over the edge.
"Looks different down there."
Derek hums in agreement, mirroring Stiles's position.
"So, how's the academy going?" Stiles asks a few moments later.
It's not that he can't deal with silence, he's learned to master it, especially in his work -- interrogation isn't always about rambling, he realized during his training -- but this one feels different. Loaded. Tense. Like there are words that want to be spoken, words that should have been said before. It doesn't feel wrong but it doesn't feel completely right either. And then, he's also genuinely curious about Derek's progress at the police academy because Stiles is still a little amazed that his father managed to pull the necessary strings and got Derek enrolled.
He's even more amazed that Derek agreed to going through the full training and becoming a fully trained and licensed officer.
"It's fine. Final tests are coming up in a few months and then I'll have to get some experience done," Derek answers easily, with no hesitation.
"Don't you already have hours clocked here?"
"Those count for some of it," Derek says. "But I'll need to do some work in a different station. Probably to prove that I'm not skating or being given favors."
"Ha. Like Dad would ever let anyone get away with that," Stiles replies, chuckling.
"You know that, I know that. Jordan knows that. But the rules are the rules and to get my badge I'll have to work elsewhere for a while," Derek says, his shoulders rising in a shrug.
"Got any ideas yet where you'll go?"
"Six months in Sacramento. Another six in Baltimore"
"Oh wow, do they hate you so much?"
Derek lets out a chuckle and shakes his head.
"Those were my choices, actually," he says as he turns to Stiles.
"Why there? I mean, I bet there were places that would have been easier. I get Sacramento, it's not too far, but Baltimore?"
"It's close to Quantico and DC."
Stiles's head turns before he can think about it and he stares at Derek, trying to read the expression in his face. It's not easy, there's light but it's not bright and even if it was, Derek's never been one to give away his thoughts or emotions. There's something there that Stiles knows he's not seeing, something he probably should know. Something that he maybe just doesn't want to think about, lest he lets his hopes rise up.
He wants to be at least part of the reason for Derek's choice. A moment of quick math in his mind tells him that the timing fits, he's in the California office for the upcoming year but he'll be back at HQ right about when Derek's in Baltimore. Not for all of those six months but most of them, as they're going to be working on a full department for investigations focused on the supernatural. Stiles has been talking about it with the pack for months now, excited about being given the lead on the projects even though it means mountains of paperwork.
"Derek."
The name slips from Stiles's lips easily but it's barely a whisper. It's a plea and a wish rolled into five letters, a question and an answer all in one.
"If you don't want me to be around, I can request New York," Derek says, his face flashing with what Stiles can only see as disappointment.
Stiles doesn't hesitate. Doesn't let himself think about a response because there's only one.
"I do," he blurts out. "I mean, if that's what you want, I definitely do want you to be there."
"For the job?"
Now, Stiles pauses. Then he takes a breath and lets his thoughts flow right to his lips.
"I won't lie, you have connections that anyone in the Bureau can only dream about. Only Deaton's better linked to the side of the world that we'll need to reach," Stiles says but he doesn't give Derek a chance to look any more disappointed before he continues. "But that's not the main reason. Not why I'd want you to be in the area. As long as it's not permanent because I will be coming back to this side of the country once the department is up and running."
"Your father said that if Jordan's in office by the time I'm ready, he's under strict orders to give me a job," Derek says, grinning. "I have no doubt that I'll have a position here whenever."
"Good. Because I hated being across the country."
"From here?"
There's something in Derek's face now that Stiles allows himself to read clearly. Something that he himself feels and doesn't want to ignore anymore. It's hope.
"Not the town, no."
Stiles moves along the balcony and the distance closes fast as Derek moves too.
It's been years coming, a long time of Stiles pushing down hope and trying not to wonder whether Derek felt the same. Years of no relationship feeling right. It feels like a dream and because of past experiences, Stiles lifts a hand up and automatically counts his fingers like he used to do.
"Five," Derek whispers and reaches for Stiles's hand, then links their fingers together.
"Huh?"
"Five fingers. Mine too."
"Oh."
Stiles reminds himself to breathe as they stand face to face, barely any space between them. Then, as if on cue, voices come from inside, shouting numbers in unison, one after another, starting from thirty. For a few of them, up to twenty five, Stiles wonders how they're coming through the thickness of the recently installed glass but then all thoughts vanish from his mind as he sees the look in Derek's eyes.
"New year," Stiles whispers.
There's a question in the word and an answer and more information than he knows how to put in words. Derek's looking the way Stiles had hoped to see him for years, expectant and hoping, close enough that Stiles can feel warm breath on his own face. Without thinking, he leans in and closes his eyes for a beat, then opens them again and finds Derek's eyes only a couple of inches away.
"Okay?"
It's Derek who asks permission. Stiles nods and then holds his breath as their lips meet with one last movement closer. From inside, the countdown shouting continues, five, four, three, two, one, then a chorus of wishes for a happy new year. It's all white noise to Stiles though, blood rushing through his ears as he moves his lips against Derek's, their fingers linked and Derek's squeezing like he doesn't want to let go. Stiles moves his free hand to Derek's waist and his fingertips dig into the soft fabric of the T-shirt's thin layer separating him from Derek's skin.
When he feels Derek's tongue on his lip, Stiles can't fight the low moan that builds in his chest. He doesn't want to pull away, wants to stay in this moment forever or at least as long as they can. He's afraid to let go, to break the silence and the moment they're having. But his lungs eventually scream for air, unsatisfied with what he's getting into them. So with reluctance he stops kissing Derek and slowly pulls away, closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths as he processes what just happened. He feels Derek's forehead against his own and the warmth of a palm on his cheek, then a thumb moving in a gentle stroke.
Another moment later, Stiles opens his eyes and looks into Derek's.
"Hey," he whispers.
"Hey."
"So. This happened."
"Yeah."
"What now?"
Neither of them has a chance to say anything anymore because the balcony door bursts open and when Stiles turns away from Derek and toward the noise, he sees Liam in the doorframe, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, looking apologetic.
"Whoops, sorry, interrupted something, you do you. Or each other. Don't mind me," Liam blurts out and backs away, closing the door again.
Moments later there's whooping from inside, loud enough again to reach them through the glass.
"This there was betting going on?" Stiles asks when it's quieter again.
Derek pauses and closes his eyes, obviously listening to the others, the corner of his lips curling as he does.
"Definitely. Your dad's not happy. Lydia won."
"Naturally."
"So, do we want to brave the wolf's den?" Stiles asks.
HIs fingers twitch against Derek's T-shirt when he's pulled in closer, Derek's palm just above his waist.
"I think we can wait another while. Maybe they'll leave us be," Derek says, smiling.
"And then pigs will fly," Stiles answers. "But I'll take what I can get. Tonight."
He leans forward and kisses Derek again. They might not have much more of this private moment, of the magical bubble where it's only them and no interfering or curious pack members. It's enough for now though because it's only the beginning and if Stiles has anything to do with it, it's the start of forever.
For right now, he's done worrying and done thinking, done wondering and hoping. He's got everything right here. With the way Derek is kissing back and holding Stiles close, Stiles knows that he's not the only one. It's a new year, a new start, and it's good.















