This is private property.
The gangly one blinks and mutters a soft “Oh.”
Derek heart feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of his chest. His soulmate is a fucking kid. Of course he is.
Sorry, we’re looking for something.
He also knows sign-language. Derek wants laugh because this is too good to be a coincidence.
“Can you hear me?”
Too clearly, he thinks. Derek shoves his hands into his hands into his pockets and nods stiffly, contemplating who he should throw the inhaler at. It smells like the wolf standing beside his soulmate.
He throws it to him and listens to them squabble in whispers as they leave.
“Dude, was that sign-language? When’d you learn that?”
“Of course not, Scott. You’d think you’d recognize black magic and curses when you saw them.”
“Did you recognize him? He’s Derek Hale. His family burned to death like, ten years ago.”
He didn’t get his soulmate’s name.
Derek shakes the thought out of his head like it’s poison. It doesn’t matter anyway.
The next time they meet, Derek’s been arrested because of him. He’s pissed.
He does find it amusing though, that the Sheriff - who’s apparently his soulmate’s father - had to call in his son for the questioning because he was the only one who understood sign-language.
They’re sitting across each other with a table between them, an officer standing next to Derek, the Sheriff sitting with his soulmate.
Whose name is Stiles.
Derek’s life is ridiculous.
The Sheriff asks him questions. Derek looks him head on and signs;
I had nothing to do with the girl’s death. He glances at Stiles. Your friend needs to be trained, and I can’t help him with anything while stuck in here.
“He says he has nothing to do with the girl’s death and would appreciate it if we’d let him out soon.” Stiles interprets.
Not a lie. Derek almost smiles.
Somewhere between potential sawed-off arms and ending up together in other countless unwilling situations, Derek begins to tolerate his soulmate, accepting the fact they’re not likely to become strangers again anytime soon.
Right now he’s about to jump up to Stiles’ window because he’s having suspicions about someone new in the neighborhood being a vampire and needs to know how to deal with them, and just as he’s about to leap, Stiles voice comes through the opened window.
“Dude, how did you not know Derek wasn’t a mute, like this is common knowledge man, you’re supposed to just know shit like this!”
“It’s not clear to me!“ Scott cries, “ How is he not mute? Have you heard him speak before?”
“He growls! Have you never wondered how he can growl? Roar? It means his voice box works, and everything, right?”
Scott’s silent. Then;
“Okay, yeah, when you put it that way…”
Stiles let’s out a satisfied huff.
“Wait, so why doesn’t he talk?” Scott’s voice suddenly turns indignant.
“Pretty sure he has reasons.”
There’s a pause.
“Dude, are you defending him? Derek Hale?”
“…Depends? Are you gonna wolf out?”
“Stiles. Stiles, do you like Derek? The same guy you nearly drowned because of? The one with the criminal record? The bull-”
“Okay, technically his criminal record is our fault-“ Stiles starts warily.
“I can’t believe this, you’re defending him, this is amazing, you actually-”
“Oh my God, just because I don’t actively hate someone it doesn’t mean I’m gonna fall head over heels for them,” Stiles snaps, “You have no reason to hate him. The only thing he’s ever done to you was try and keep you away from Allison - for good reasons - and train you. And because you didn’t listen, bad things happened. I’m surprised he’s still here and hasn’t left us to deal with all this shit.”
Derek walks away quietly, a reluctant smile on his face and heat curling in his gut.
They’re driving back to the loft in the jeep, all bloodied up after killing the guy who’d ended up being warlock instead of a vampire. Derek feels a little high.
“I have a sensor outside my room.”
Stiles gets a shrug as an answer.
“Exactly how much did you hear?” He asks flatly.
Enough, Derek manages to sign clumsily.
“I’m gonna report you for stalking.”
Derek gives him a shit-eating grin.
“I think the guy hit you with something a bit too strong,” Stiles deadpans.
Stiles watches him a lot. Sometimes Derek catches him, and Stiles looks away slowly, like he doesn’t mind being caught.
Derek wonders if he knows.
Derek hears screeching tires outside. When he looks outside, Scott’s running up to the door. His car is empty.
Scott never comes alone.
When Derek opens the door, he’s hit with a hurricane of negative emotions; panic, anger, guilt, hate, anxiety, defeat, desperation-
“Stiles and Kira are gone,” Scott says raggedly. Derek’s already wearing his jacket, keys in hand, and follows him without question.
They somehow find a trail of their scent in the woods that leads to the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ sign in the middle of nowhere after more than two hours later. Kira’s lying on one side of the road, unconscious. Stiles is on the other side of the road, smelling like hysteria.
Scott makes towards Stiles, but he just waves a hand out at him. Derek stares down at Stiles while Scott looks over Kira. Stiles stares back for a few seconds before his face splits into a grin.
Derek rolls his eyes and grasps Stiles hand tighter than needed when he pulls him up. Stiles claps his shoulder feebly.
Scott checks over Stiles too, and Stiles stands there obediently, arms spread like he’s at an airport security. Scott’s eyes flash when he takes in all the bruises and cuts.
“They did worse to Kira, seriously-”
Scott’s head whips up, shock and hurt on his face.
“You’re lying! Your heart just fucking-”
“Right, my bad, can we talk about it later?”
“I- okay, fine. Will you be okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Derek settles a still knocked out Kira into Scott’s car and stands by Stiles as Scott leaves. Once Scott’s car is out of sight, Stiles looks away from the empty road and locks eyes with Derek. Derek resists the urge to fidget after a minute passes and narrows his eyes.
“Come on,” Stiles opens the passenger seat of Derek’s car. “I’d like to get home before my Dad comes back.”
Stiles wakes up to Derek’s sleeping face.
He would’ve taken time to appreciate it, but for one; he’s too stunned, and two; Derek’s breathing shallowly.
Derek grits his teeth and growls out in a low, raspy voice; “Stiles.”
Stiles heart almost stops beating.
“Oh my God.”
Derek’s eyes fly open. He’s panting heavily, arms around himself as if bracing himself for something.
“You just said my name,” Stiles says dumbly. Derek freezes. “In your sleep. Holy shit Derek, you’re my soulmate.”
Derek slowly sits up. Stiles snaps out of his shock and roughly pulls him back, sitting on him to make sure he can’t leave.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Derek crosses his arms over his chest and glares.
“You- you insecure baby , what was the worst I possibly could’ve done?”
Stiles stares dumbfoundedly when Derek presses his lips together and look away.
“I can’t- you- don’t throw me across the room or something, okay-”
He cradles Derek’s face like he’s something precious and swoops down to press his lips hard against his.
Derek’s hands go lax where they were gripping Stiles thighs - he doesn’t even understand how they got there in the first place - and he watches Stiles in surprise. Stiles stares back through half-lidded eyes and sits back, running a thumb across Derek’s bottom lip.
Stiles give an amused huff when Derek yanks him down again.
“I can’t hear anything.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
Scott scratches his head. “I’m gonna jump up and see, hold on.”
Kira waits by the car as Scott goes to the side of the house and jumps up to Stiles window. There’s a shout and a thump.
“WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME ?”
“OH GEE, I DON’T KNOW, SINCE YOU STARTED LEAPING UP MY WINDOW? YOU HAVE A KEY. YOUR LAZY ASS COULDN’T TAKE CLIMBING A FEW STAIRS, SCOTT?”
“I hate you!”
Kira clamps a hand over her mouth to stop her laughter. After a moment, she hears Stiles voice again.
“I was kidding man, I love you, you know that, right?”
“...Yeah. Could you, uh - wear a shirt. You’ve got a hickey - you’ve got hickeys all over you, Jesus, did Derek maul you-”
“You have no idea Scott, he-”
“OKAY STOP, I HATE YOU, BYE.”