‘Last one,’ Stiles says, holding up a trash bag.
Derek nods. ‘Thank you, Stiles.’
‘Sure. I told you I’d help clean.’
‘Not just for the clean-up. For everything.’
Stiles smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Derek can smell his sadness. He can smell the lingering sadness of the entire pack.
Tonight had been his going-away party. Things have finally calmed down in Beacon Hills and Derek had felt the need to get away, be by himself for a while. He’d told Scott, who told Stiles, who told Derek that he was getting a party and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
‘You’re welcome, big guy.’
Derek now wishes that he had tried to stop Stiles from throwing this party. Saying goodbye to the pack had been hard enough. Having to say goodbye to Stiles, feels like he’s ripping his own heart out.
He moves towards him. They’ll shake hands, maybe even hug. They’ve become a lot closer over the past year. He likes to think that they’re friends.
‘Goo-‘ he starts, but he doesn’t get to finish.
Stiles is pressing against him. His hands are in Derek’s hair, pulling the man’s face to his own. Derek stumbles and grabs Stiles’ hips to steady himself. The kiss should be desperate, but it’s soft and enthusiastic. It doesn’t feel like a goodbye kiss.
‘I just wanted to do that before you left,’ Stiles says when he pulls back.
He lets go of Derek’s hair, but Derek isn’t planning on letting him get away that soon.
‘Is there anything else you wanted to do?’
Stiles takes so long in answering that Derek isn’t sure he said it out loud. He’s thinking of repeating himself, when Stiles jumps up and wraps his legs around Derek’s waist.
‘Yes. It involves your bed and no clothes,’ Stiles grins.
They shed their clothes on their way to the bed. The jeans are a bit tricky with the way Stiles is wrapped around him, but they manage.
Derek opens Stiles up with his tongue and his fingers. He bites, licks and kisses his way across the pale skin, savouring every touch and every taste. He memorizes the sound Stiles makes when he brushes his fingers over the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs, the sigh when he finally starts pushing in.
They try to make it last as long as possible, both knowing this might be their only chance. And when Stiles comes, Derek commits every detail to memory. His shout, the way he arches of the bed, the smell of his release, the beat his heart skips. And what comes after, the satisfied smile on Stiles’ face, the slowing of his heartbeat, the ebbing away of his arousal.
When he has them both cleaned up, Derek wraps Stiles up in his arms. If he can only have this night, he’ll take every second of it.
For the past six months Derek’s been wandering around America. Now, he’s in Chicago, enjoying the wind and the cold. Stiles would make fun of him for going to Chicago in winter. In hind sight, it wasn’t his best idea.
He’s been thinking of going back to Beacon Hills. He’s been thinking that for a of couple months, but there wouldn’t be any point in returning, right now. Winter break is over and Stiles will be back at school. Most of the pack will be gone. Scott is still there, and Liam and Malia, but the rest is off to college. And even then, he’s not sure he’s welcome. In all those months none of them had ever asked him when he’d be coming back, or even told him they expected him to come back.
The sound of his phone pulls him out of his thought. He checks the caller-ID. Scott?
‘Is everything okay?’ He probably should have said hi, but he hasn’t heard anything in a week. From anyone
‘You should come back.’
‘Scott, what’s going on?’
‘Just get here.’
It’s not like Scott to be so short with him. That’s more Malia’s thing.
‘Is everyone okay? Is Stiles okay?’
‘I can’t tell you on the phone,’ Scott sighs. ‘Just-‘
‘-come as soon as possible.’
‘Yeah.’ It almost sounds like Scott is smiling. ‘See you soon, Derek.’
Derek stares at his phone for a few seconds. Then he’s up and throwing stuff into a bag. He books the next flight out to California on his way to the airport.
The flight is crowded. His legs don’t have enough room and there’s a baby crying behind him. But he’s is too busy going over his conversation with Scott in his head for the discomfort to register.
What could possibly be going on? And why would Scott call him about something concerning Stiles?
Derek hasn’t heard once from Stiles in all those months. He’s tried calling, texting. He even sent a couple emails, but they’ve all gone unanswered. Every time he’d brought Stiles up in any of his conversations with the others, they’d said that Stiles was fine and then changed the subject. He’d figured that Stiles didn’t want to talk to him. Maybe he was mad at Derek, mad that he’d still left after their night together. But that doesn’t seem likely. Derek had woken up alone with nothing but Stiles’ scent in his sheets to assure him that the night before had actually happened.
He checks his phone the moment the plane touches ground in LA. There is one message from Scott.
>> go see stiles. he’s at home
Why is Stiles in Beacon Hills? He’d been so excited to go to Berkeley, get his physics degree, go to parties, get drunk, drink too much coffee.
By the time he knocks on the door of the Stilinski residence, he’s a bundle of nerves.
The Sheriff is the one to open the door. He nods at Derek, then walks past him to his cruiser.
Derek can’t tell whether the man is angry with him, or happy to see him. He’d smelled like both.
The house looks and smells like he remembers. Like a home. Even more so than he remembers.
‘Stiles?’ he calls out.
Derek walks to the kitchen, where he finds Stiles by the stove, baking an egg, wearing sweatpants and an oversized sweater. The scene is so domestic that Derek wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around the guy and hide his face in his neck.
It’s been six months and he’s still as gone on the human as before.
Stiles turns and smiles. ‘Hey, Derek.’
Correction, he’s even more gone on him than he was before. Stiles looks good. He looks incredible, softer in that giant sweater.
Derek steps closer, taking a deep breath in, wanting to bask in all the aspects of Stiles.
He stops short and looks at Stiles in confusion. His scent has changed. He smells more like a wolf than he ever could, even if he was wearing Scott’s clothes.
Derek’s first thought is that Stiles has been bitten, but then he hears another heartbeat. It’s small and almost inaudible over Stiles’ own, rapidly beating heart.
Derek looks closer at the man in front of him. There is a blush on Stiles’ cheeks, a happiness that Derek doesn’t usually see with men. And he is softer, his cheeks are rounder and he fills out the sweater more than he would have before Derek left. But not because of muscle.
Stiles is pregnant. There is a little life growing inside of him. And it’s Derek’s. He can smell how his and Stiles’ scents have intertwined to create something new and entirely unique.
Derek steps closer until he’s right in front of Stiles, and then drops to his knees. He reaches out one hand, to place it on Stiles’ belly, but stops and looks up for permission. Stiles smiles down at him and guides his hand the rest of the way.
‘How?’ Derek whispers.
‘Deaton says that if there is a strong enough connection between a werewolf and a spark, miracles can happen.’ Stiles pulls on his arm, urging him to stand back up. ‘Let me finish making this sandwich and then we can talk. I’m starving.’
In a daze, Derek walks to the living room and drops down on the couch. He doesn’t move until Stiles sits down next to him.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You needed time,’ Stiles shrugs. ‘I knew you’d come back if I told you. Even if you weren’t ready.’
‘I would’ve stayed, you know. If you’d asked,’ Derek admits.
‘I know,’ Stiles smiles. He squeezes Derek’s leg. ‘That’s why I didn’t ask.’
Stiles is right, of course. He had needed some time to be alone and figure out what he wanted.
‘Why did you tell me now?’
Stiles sighs. ‘It wasn’t my idea. Scott didn’t tell me you were coming until you were already on your way. They’ve been pushing me to tell you since we found out.’
‘Do you- Do you not want me here?’ Derek’s voice breaks a little over the question. He wants to be here, with Stiles and their child. But what if Stiles doesn’t? What if-
‘There is nothing I want more,’ Stiles says, stopping his thoughts from spiralling downwards. ‘But I didn’t want you to come back just for me.’
‘Why else would I come back? I’ve missed you. And you’re right, I needed time to figure some things out. When I did, all I wanted was to come back to you, but I didn’t know if you still wanted me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Stiles says mournfully.
Derek scoots closer and tucks Stiles into his side.
‘Don’t be. I’m here and I’m staying.’
‘You sure? Because if you ever leave again, I’m not throwing you a party, I’m punching you in the dick. I don’t care how magical it is.’
‘I’m staying,’ Derek laughs.
‘Good.’ Stiles takes a bite off his sandwich, frowning when half the contents escape from between the two slices of bread.
Derek smiles. This is the person he’s fallen in love with. This person who defies every law. Written, unwritten and those of nature.