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Stiles stared at the key. The top part was wrapped in tape, and scrawled across it in black capital letters, L O F T.
It had just appeared on his key ring that morning between the key to his house and the key to Scott's. Of course it was from Derek, and Stiles had assumed it meant he was welcome anytime, then left to run some errands without another thought.
But now he was sitting in the small lot behind the loft's building, second guessing pretty much everything.
Did Derek just want him over at the loft more? Or did he want him to move in with him? Things had been going really well this winter break, but moving-in-together well? Stiles didn't know.
Had the others gotten their own keys, too? They were certainly having a lot of meetings at the loft as they planned how to handle the harpies gathering at the edge of town. Never a dull moment, that was for sure.
Maybe this was Derek's way of asking him to stay here in Beacon Hills, not halfway across the country at college where he couldn’t help with the day-to-day crises that plagued the town. Did Derek want to get married? Is getting a key like getting werewolf-married?
He rested his hand on the steering wheel and squinted at the offensive key, as if it would eventually tell him the answers he needed. But rather, headlights flashed through his windshield, and a car was parking across from him and oh no--
Derek was back. Derek was back, Derek was looking at him from his car, and Stiles was still parked and holding the damn key.
He flailed quickly as his widening eyes met Derek's, and he tried to close his fist and hide the incriminating evidence of his brooding. Stiles' next instinct was to start the car and peel out, run away. His hands made aborted movements to put that escape plan into action before his brain had agreed. Still panicking, Stiles caught Derek's cool gaze again through the two panes of glass and deflated instead.
They got out of their cars in slow synchronization, and then just stood there in the lot. Derek broke first, rolling his eyes and gesturing with his head for Stiles to follow him. Stiles had to jog a little to catch up once he blinked himself out of his stupor.
The elevator ride up was tense, Stiles opening and closing his mouth, knowing he had to actually choose his words carefully for once and tamping down the more immediate need to fill. the. awkward. silence.
Derek didn't look angry or sad, just uncomfortable, and Stiles was still at a lost when they came to the loft door. Derek gestured for Stiles to open it, and he did, with the key with the tape on the top.
Derek walked in, Stiles walked in, Derek disabled the alarm, Stiles shut the sliding door behind them. And promptly burst out with "What are we?" Then nearly bit through his tongue in his effort to stop any more idiocy from spilling out.
"A couple?" Derek phrased it like a question, like he couldn't believe Stiles could still be this dense. Stiles rushed to clarify.
"No no no, right right right, but like, what are we?" He added weakly, "You gave me a key."
"I wanted you to have it."
"Yes, but, why? We're always here together, you could just let me in," Stiles rationalized.
Derek slouched onto the couch and sighed dramatically. Stiles hovered over him; no reason to willingly give up his height advantage here. It may come in handy.
Looking like each word was forcefully expelled from his vocal chords, Derek said to Stiles' left sneaker, "I want you to feel...welcome here. To want to be here, even if I'm not. We wouldn't have to coordinate as much to see each other. Your...scent, it fades really fast when you're at school. I thought this would help. Make this space ours." All of Derek's walls came up as he stood to distance himself from Stiles. "But clearly, that's not what you want yet, or maybe at all, so I can just take it back."
Derek held out his hand for the key ring, but Stiles clutched it to his chest.
"So...we're not werewolf-married?"
"No.” Derek had the nerve to look bewildered, then spoke as if to a child, “That would require a ring, Stiles.”
“And you didn’t give anyone else a key, right?” Stiles anxiously spun the key in circles next to his head.
“Do you honestly think I would willingly let Scott in here without me ever again? No more trips to Mexico,” Derek paused on a sigh, gathering himself, and then started blushing. "I just, I missed y-"
"I missed you, too," Stiles cut in, too eager to wait out Derek's pauses. "When I was at school, it freaking sucked, man. If we had just gotten out crap together sooner, I would've chosen community college and avoided this whole long-distance thing. Then maybe we'd actually be moving in together." Stiles waggled his eyebrows at Derek, who huffed, but still drew closer rather than retreating farther away.
"Maybe. But for now, when you're home...I'd like you to...stay over. In the loft. When you can, and you're not at your dad's or Scott's. If you want, only if you want to." The last part came out in a rush, and Stiles realized Derek was as scared as he was about what would happen next semester, and beyond.
Stiles drew Derek close by looping his arms around Derek's neck, the key just barely digging into Derek's shoulder. He smirked and licked his lips, then leaned in until he was barely brushing Derek's ear when he whispered, "I want to."
At the very least, Derek's sheets would smell like them for a while. Stiles kept the key when he left for the airport, and it was the first house key he used when he landed for Spring Break three months later.