Somewhere Between Then and Now
Sometimes when you least expect it, good things will start to happen.
Once they do, the only thing that matters then is what you do after they occur.
Derek froze in mid-reach for his tank top, the desire to turn and acknowledge Stiles burning in his gut. Instead, he ignored temptation and continued his movement, quickly pulling the shirt up and over his head. He should’ve known Stiles would be the one to find him here. No one else would’ve cared to look, let alone thought to look at his old house.
“So, what, I’m not good enough for you to talk to now?” Irritation colored Stiles’ voice, but Derek didn’t miss the obvious hurt buried beneath it. “No big bad to deal with, so no need to talk to me at all? Screw you, man. I’ve done everything I could to help you out when you needed it, and after all I’ve given to do that, sacrificed to do that, I don’t even warrant a fucking attempt at an actual conversation?”
Derek frowned and forced himself to turn and meet Stiles’s wounded eyes. “What am I supposed to say to you exactly? We weren’t friends, Stiles. You barely tolerated me. You helped me when I needed it because of Scott, or because it was the right thing to do at the time. It had nothing to do with who I am or what I needed and you know it.”
Stiles blinked. Then blinked again. “Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?” He shook his head, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Man, I knew you were clueless, but hell, I didn’t know you were stupid.”
Derek stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Figured it out, dickhead. You seem to have all the other answers for how I feel about you.”
Stiles turned to leave then, but not before Derek saw real pain in his eyes. The kind of pain that spoke of untold wounds, of cuts so raw, so deep they had no hope to heal. No hope to fade.
Stiles cared about him. Really cared.
How in the hell had Derek missed that? And more importantly, how the fuck did he address it now that he did know?
“Stiles. Wait a second.”
Stiles stopped in the open doorway of the Hale house, but he didn’t turn to face Derek, and he didn’t speak. He just waited there. Shoulders stiff, whole body tensed, as if bracing himself for whatever attack Derek might make on him.
Jesus. How had it come to this? How had anything he did or said become so important that it could make or break this kid’s entire world? And Derek had no doubt that’s what this moment meant. The kid needed him to validate his usefulness, his significance, and for the first time since they met, Derek actually believed himself capable of doing it. Maybe even worthy of doing it.
“I apologize,” he said, forcing the words passed suddenly dry lips. “I should have told you I was leaving, and I should have told you when I came back. You’ve proven you deserved that from me, and I don’t blame you for being upset that you didn’t get that consideration. But… if it helps, or if it means something to you, I did think of you while I was away. Maybe…I even missed you a little. Or, at least, I missed your particular brand of sarcasm.”
Stiles whirled to face him, brown eyes wide, full lips parted in surprise. “You…aren’t actually lying about that, are you? You… missed me.”
Derek lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. A little. I mean, Cora’s great, but…the antagonized banter just wasn’t the same between us.” He grinned then, a real one instead of the fake one he’d normally employed in times like this. “And it’s okay if you don’t tell me the same. I already know that you did. Miss me, that is.”
“Oh yeah? And how do you know that, big guy?”
Derek took a step toward him. Then another, and another, until only a single footstep separated them. “You’re upset that I didn’t tell you I was back. You came here to yell at me for it. If you hadn’t missed me, you wouldn’t be here, wanting so badly to argue with me.”
“I don’t want to argue with you, Derek. That’s not why I came.”
Derek tilted his head, hearing the truth in his words. “Then why did you come? Why did you feel the need to track me down here?” He watched Stiles swallow, and widened his grin at the way the boy tried so hard to pretend he wasn’t nervous. “It’s okay to tell me you missed me, you know. I won’t hold it against you.”
“Liar. You’ll bring it up at the worst possible time just to torture me with it.”
That…actually might be true. “Okay…I’ll agree not to torture you with my knowledge at a later date, on one condition.”
“What’s the condition?” Stiles asked, his tone somehow both incredulous and suspicious.
Derek liked it. He liked it a lot.
Moving forward, he pressed one palm flat against the doorframe beside Stiles’s head and took that last, single step ahead, bringing their bodies flush against each other. “The condition is…you agree to help me find a new place to stay, because I don’t want to stay in the loft any longer than I have to, and you also have to help me find someone that can restore this house to what it used to be. What I’d like for it to be again.”
Derek lifted his free hand and ran a finger along Stiles’s cheek, his jaw, and finally, across his lower lip. “What do you say, Stiles? Do we have a deal?”
“You know, I’m not the only one who—who missed someone here. I could just as easily torture you with the whole admitting you missed me thing.”
The kid had a point, Derek thought, lowering his hand to rest against the boy’s hip. “You’re right,” he conceded with a nod. “You could do that, which means I should probably agree to do something for you to keep that from happening. So, what is it you want? What is it you need from me?”
“That’s…a really good question,” Stiles said, swallowing again, the action drawing Derek’s gaze to his throat. “This…” he licked his lips, drawing Derek’s gaze from his throat to his lips, “isn’t what I expected when I drove over here, you know.”
Now, it was Derek’s turn to swallow. “It isn’t?”
“No. Not even close.”
Derek squeezed Stiles’s hip, then lifted his gaze back to Stile’s eyes. “Tell me what it is that you want, Stiles. Tell me what you need from me.”
The air grew thick with the scent of Stiles’s interest, and though, it wasn’t the first time Derek had noticed the smell. It was the first time he knew without a doubt the boy’s arousal was for him and him alone.
“Kiss me,” Stiles whispered, his voice sounding wrecked even though Derek had barely touched him. “Come on, man, quit fucking around and do it already. Kiss me. Touch me. Something.”
He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. Stiles didn’t know what he wanted. Couldn’t. He was too young. Impressionable. The years between them wide. Not as wide as they could be, of course, but wide enough that it should matter to him. To both of them, actually.
Yet, Derek wanted it. A part of him maybe even needed it. Craved it.
Leaning in, Derek slotted their mouths together, eliciting a surprise gasp from Stiles and forcing a low groan from his own throat at the near-perfect combination of eagerness and need, desire and resolution, comfort and warmth.
He dropped his hand from the doorframe to wrap both arms around Stiles’s hips, pulling him in tight, tight enough he could feel the boy’s erection as it slid along his own.
Then he was lost. Lost in the feel of another body against him. Lost in the sensation of Stiles’s fingers tangling in his hair, pulling hard enough to sting at the roots, burn at his scalp. Lost in the need to lower his hands and grapple at Stiles’s ass, yanking him up off his feet, forcing him to wrap those long, lithe legs around his waist as Derek carted them from the front door to the old but sturdy kitchen table in what used to be the dining room. Once there, he lowered Stiles onto the table and reached for the button on his jeans, slipping the button free and the zipper down before sliding his hands into his boxers and wrapping his fingers around his hardened cock.
A muffled groan rent the air and Stiles pulled his head away, hips canting upward in a frantic search for more.
“Jesus Christ, Derek. Warn a guy, would you?”
Derek lifted his head to meet Stiles’s gaze, one eyebrow arched high. “You want me to stop? I can, you know.”
“Not if you want to live to see tomorrow you won’t.”
Derek tightened his grip and quickened his strokes, using the pre-come leaking out from the head of Stiles’s dick to ease his movements. “It’s not like I planned for this to happen, Stiles. Pretty sure, this was the last thing on my mind when you showed up to yell at me.”
“So, what, it’s my fault now? I’m the one that forced you to…to…fuck…to manhandle me and jerk me off?”
Derek didn’t say that. “You told me to kiss you. And touch you. How is it not your fault that I listened and did both?”
“Yeah, you’re a real listener, aren’t you? I can count on one hand the…the…the number of times you’ve…ah, fucking Christ, do that again…you’ve actually listened to me when I tell you to do something.”
Derek smirked and bent down, lips hovering just over his hand and the cock he held in it. “I always listen to you, Stiles. I just don’t always agree with what you have to say. This time, though, I did.”
Derek moved his hand and took Stiles into his mouth, smiling when he tried to cant his hips up again and found Derek’s other hand holding him in place instead.
Lifting his head slightly, he murmured, “If you want me to blow you, Stiles, you’ll stop thrusting until I say you can thrust.”
“Oh, come on, Derek! That’s an impossible request.”
“No, it isn’t,” he said, swirling his tongue along the cockhead before placing open-mouthed kisses around the shaft and licking up the vein on the underside, wringing a deep, guttural moan out of Stiles as he brushed across the slit at the top. “You can hold still when you want to. I’ve seen it. And trust me, Stiles, right now, you want to hold still, if only to find out just how good I can blow.”
Trembling. Stiles was trembling beneath him, doing his best to do as Derek asked while denying himself the action his body demanded that he make. It was a heady thing, knowing one held that kind of power over someone, and when that someone was as bold and as strong as Stiles, it was enough more thrilling.
“Derek…fucking suck me already. Come on!”
Parting his lips, Derek lowered his head and took Stiles back inside his mouth, hollowing his cheeks before relaxing his throat and easing down. When Stiles hit the back of his throat, Derek swallowed, taking satisfaction when a keening, high-pitched wail broke from Stiles’s lips and the hands in his hair tightened then tugged, hard.
“Fuck, Derek, you gotta…you gotta stop, man. I can’t….I’m gonna…”
Derek backed off but only to tell Stiles he could fuck his mouth. Then it was a rushed flurry of deep thrusts, tear-inducing swallows, loud moans and rough groans, and enough come to fill Derek’s mouth and slip down the sides of his chin.
When Stiles pushed him off, Derek straightened, wiping his chin with his fingers before lifting his hand to his mouth and sucking off the rest of Stiles’s come. He met Stiles’s eyes with every flick of his tongue, every swallow of his throat, and he doubted he’d ever get tired of seeing the other man’s flushed face and awe-struck gaze.
“You…God, Derek, I can’t even…process what that just was.”
Yeah, Derek wasn’t sure he could either.
Derek shook his head then stilled as Stiles reached for him. “You…don’t have to.”
“Maybe I just want to then,” he replied, a dopey smile blooming across his face. He leaned in for a quick, sloppy kiss before pulling back to undo Derek’s jeans and pull out his cock. “Christ, you’re big.”
Derek shrugged then groaned as long, sprightly fingers wrapped around him, jerking him hard and fast, with the perfect amount of pressure, and his wrist twisting in just the right way to make Derek’s body quiver and deep, panting moans to break from his throat.
“Shush, big guy. I’m exploring new territory right now.”
Derek stuttered out a laugh and lowered his head to Stiles’s neck, sucking a mark there, knowing even as he did it that the others would be able to see it and want to know about it. “By all means then, explore away.”
“Oh, I plan to, though I don’t think I’ll get to explore for very long from the look and feel of things. You’re pretty close already, aren’t you?”
Yeah, he really, really was. “Tighten your grip a little,” he instructed gently, his voice hoarse and shaky with need. “Yeah, just…just like that. Now brush your…God, Stiles, yeah, that’s it. Right there. Don’t…fuck…don’t stop.”
Another quick, tight tug, a second twist of Stile’s wrist and Derek came, hard, his come coating Stiles’s hand and landing dead center in the red bullseye on his t-shirt.
Derek couldn’t stop the quick laugh that tumbled from his throat anymore than he could stop his arms from lifting up or his hands from framing Stiles’s face between his palms. “Thank you,” he whispered, kissing him again. “I…that…felt incredible.”
“Yeah, incredible, thy name is Stiles.”
Derek laughed again and shook his head before reaching down to tuck himself back inside his jeans. When he was done, he lifted his tank back over his head and wiped Stiles’s hand and shirt as best he could then reached down to tuck Stiles back into his underwear and jeans. “I’d offer you the use of my shower upstairs, but it doesn’t exactly work, and all my clothes are back at the loft so, if you want to clean up, you’ll have to do it at home or…we’re gonna have to go to the loft.”
“Dereeek, are you suggesting I go home with you?”
Derek caught his mouth in another kiss. “Don’t be a smartass. You know you were already thinking it.”
“Okay, maybe I was thinking it. That still doesn’t mean I expected you to make the offer to me.”
Derek frowned at that, and searched his gaze. “What did you expect then?”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t that.”
“You’re lying,” he said. “You were expecting something. What?”
Stiles frowned, looked away. “Honestly? I figured you’d tell me this was a mistake and ask me to leave. I didn’t for a second think you might actually want this beyond what just happened between us.”
Derek cupped Stiles’s chin and turned him until they faced each other again. “I do, though, Stiles. Want it, I mean. I wouldn’t have started this if I didn’t.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I just sort of figured that one out, actually.”
“Good, because I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding what happened here.”
Derek brushed his thumb across Stiles’s lip again and smiled. “This wasn’t something I planned to have happen, but I’m not sorry that it did. And I’m not stupid enough to deny that it meant something, what I’m not quite sure, but I know that it did. That you do. You mean something. To me. And I can’t put a name to it yet, Stiles, but it’s there. I need you to understand that, okay? This wasn’t just…a release to me. It was more. You’re more.”
“You are, too. More, I mean. I don’t know how much more, because I wasn’t expecting anything like this to happen between us, but…you’re right. There is something there. I can feel it. I think I’ve always felt it, though not quite the same way I felt it today.”
Derek nodded and lowered his hand from Stiles’s face. “Good. That’s…good, Stiles.”
And it was. Derek didn’t have to know what it meant to know how it felt. How he felt, knowing that he and Stiles were on the same page about this. Whatever ‘this’ was. Whatever they were.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for Stiles’s hand and pulling him off the table. “Let’s get out of here before one of the others decide to come here looking for us.”
Stiles groaned. “Oh, God. Do you think they’re going to know? What we did?”
Oh, they’d know. The second they saw them, scented them, they’d know exactly what happened between them. And Derek wasn’t at all looking forward to the fight with Scott about it, or with Stiles’s dad once he got wind of it, especially since Stiles wasn’t quite eighteen yet.
But even with those eventual confrontations looming in front of him, Derek couldn’t bring himself to regret what happened, or what would likely happen again once they arrived at his loft tonight. And, somehow, he knew without having to ask, that Stiles wouldn’t regret it, either.
They both wanted this, and for now, that was the only thing that truly mattered, or would matter in the future.
Derek would make sure of it.