Stiles has been 18 for two weeks.
Stiles was worn out, bordering on completely giving up. The gun with wolfs bane bullets Argent gave him had been used and abused and he knew he only had enough energy for one more spell. Stiles pulled out his rune dice and carefully turned to the right symbols. If he did this correctly, the spell would send a small blast of pure concentrated energy to everything within a certain radius (probably only 20-25 feet with how wiped he was) who wasn’t wearing the symbol Stiles had carved into pendants that the "pack" wore. That or the spell would backfire, blasting him with the energy instead. The fear of that happening was outweighed by his incessant need to be somewhat useful. He placed the dice just outside his protective circle (mountain ash of course) and focused on the symbols he needed. The spell would only work if he focused on the characters, focused on the energy that was pulled from him into the dice. Energy flowed from Stiles out to the battlefield, darkness creeping in the edges of is vision, a telltale sign he’d overextended his magic. With one last pulse, the darkness engulfed him.
When Stiles awoke he found himself lying in a puddle of something thicker than water. It was bordering on syrup-y consistency but the distinct metallic smell suggested something more vicious than the delicious pancake topping. He lifted his hand in front of his face and through the weak light of the full moon, he could pick out the red hues. Stiles wondered if it was his. He didn’t remember sustaining any injuries, certainly none that would have resulted in this much blood. A loud growl brought him out of his daze.
"Stiles!!" That was Allison screaming. "Stiles you need to break the circle. I can't drag you and your 147 pounds." Stiles blinked absently as the words made their way through his cotton wool stuffed head. Stretching his hands to one side, he broke the circle. Almost immediately hands were on him, checking for wounds, his breathing, and his pulse.
"You'll be fine. The fainting was just from the magic. You really helped us there with that. I'm not sure why you couldn't have done that earlier, though." Scott was lecturing him. If Stiles wasn’t currently trying to quell the bile rising up his throat he would go on a rampage about the many things Scott could have done earlier. "Okay buddy we're going to try-" Scott stopped mid-sentence and looked forward. Stiles wondered why until strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position.
Vomit successfully swallowed down, he soothed the person hugging him, "Hey man, you heard Scott, I’m fine. This isn't my blood. Oh god this isn't my blood!! It could have HIV or hepatitis or rabies or tetanus- no wait, that's nails but I-" the person – Derek, he knew it was Derek- grabbing him squeezed tighter, "can't... breathe... there... buddy." He was immediately released and he got a closer look at Derek. His clothes were torn but no injuries poked through. Good, that was good. “Okay, you wanna try using your--” and that was definitely vomit coming out of him. Or trying to come out of him, he hadn’t had much to eat prior to the no holds barred free-for-all he just witnessed.
“SCOTT!” He heard Derek yell, “What’s happening?”
“I-He-he’s just vomiting, I don’t know. It’s probably just from using too much magic, but the last time I saw him do that was months ago.”
The vomiting eventually petered off into dry-heaving. By that time everyone had left to assess the damage from battle, everyone that is except for Derek who had parked himself right next to Stiles. “Derek, I’m fine. Go see about everyone else. Even Scott left.”
“No. Scott didn’t just leave,” Stiles raised an eyebrow at that, “He left you with me.”
“Oh.” Stiles pondered this, “So he leaves me with the Alpha that he doesn’t consider his Alpha, the Alpha that has serious trust issues and a penchant for verbally abusing me. Thanks Scott.”
Derek rolled his eyes but said nothing to refute the accusations, “You could have gotten really hurt Stiles.”
“Derek, I was fine, I pulled it off, and I woke back up.”
“Yeah, this time, and probably the next time and the time after that. If you hadn’t noticed I'm kind of a badass. Plus, I had the mountain ash, it worked even while I was passed out.” Stiles ran his fingers through the ash.
“Stiles,” Derek basically whined out the syllables. Stiles raised his eyes from the ash. Derek rolled his shoulders like he was about to do something he wasn’t sure about, then proceeded to crash Stiles’ mouth on top of his own. It took Stiles a microsecond to realize what was happening and react to it, to push into the kiss, push his body closer to Derek. But when Derek let his tongue venture out to Stiles’ lips, the younger pulled back.
“Okay. That is an interesting development, and I’d like to explore it further but I taste like vomit right now and I don’t want to force that upon--”
Derek pulled him forward again, managing to spit out a “Shut. Up. Stiles” before their lips crashed together. This time the kiss went deeper, tongues battled for dominance and instead of a vomit flavor there was a distinct metallic-blood taste that suggested Derek had bit someone earlier that night. Stiles pulled away again.
“Okay what the hell is this because-- Okay more kissing is good too.”
Derek and Stiles have been dating two months.
“Hey, stir that for me would ya?” Stiles asked the werewolf helping him make dinner as he cut up the broccoli, a task that should have been completed earlier. “Okay, now, you take over here while I go flip the pork chops over there. You need to finish the broccoli and immediately put them in that pot.” He gestured to the pot on the back burner that has the steamer in it. “Then Turn it to 8, okay?” Derek nodded and took the knife from Stiles. The boy frantically searched for a spatula as the pork sizzled menacingly.
“Thanks. For this.” Derek commented as Stiles flipped the first slab of meat.
“It’s no problem. Dad is working late anyway, and I hate eating alone. At least this way we will leave something for Dad when he gets home.” Derek manhandled the broccoli into the pot just as Stiles flipped the last pork chop.
Derek was suddenly very close. “No really, thank you.” He trapped Stiles against the kitchen counter with his arms.
Stiles placed his hands on the larger man’s shoulders and flattened out the wrinkles of his shirt, “I know a fine way you could thank me.” Derek smirked at the line but placed his lips on Stiles’ anyway. Seconds later, Stiles pulled away, “Well I was thinking more of a generous donation of cash to my wallet but this is good too.” Derek pulled Stiles back into the kiss and bit the younger man’s bottom lip. Stiles’ hands started journeying south, landing on Derek’s ass before they snaked back to Derek’s abdomen and pushed him away. “I have to check the noodles.” Stiles murmured as he walked over to the stove, running a finger along his bottom lip. Derek followed and settled his chin on Stiles’ shoulder as he sighed.
“Okay I think they’re ready. Can you strain them for me?” he gestured to the strainer he had gotten out earlier. He felt Derek nod into his shoulder and move away to grab the saucepan full of macaroni and the strainer. Stiles poked at the pork and stirred the corn again before Derek placed the saucepan on the counter.
“Now what?” he asked. Stiles raised an eyebrow.
“Now finish the thing. Put the cheese into Mac & cheese.” Derek glared at Stiles for treating him like a child but grabbed the cheese pouch out of the box and started pouring the orange goo into the noodles.
Stiles cut into one of the pork chops and, seeing that there was no undesired color, declared dinner ready. He made Derek set the table as he transferred all the food items into serving dishes. “Okay honey,” Stiles said moving towards the breakfast nook where they were eating, “Dinner is served.” He pecked Derek on the cheek as he placed the different dishes on the table. As Stiles was about to grab more dishes Derek grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him closer but did nothing else. Just stared into his eyes in a way that Allison and Scott stared at each other which usually made him want to vomit. At the moment though he mostly understood just how grateful Derek was for this meal. Derek released him and he grabbed the last two bowls, one with the broccoli in it and the other with macaroni and cheese.
Stiles and Derek have been dating four months.
“I SERIOUSLY CANNOT BELIEVE THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH RIGHT NOW!” Stiles yelled at Derek.
“Stiles.” Derek said calmly. And no, Stiles would not give him this. Derek could not be the only calm one here. Derek could not be able to claim that he had been the reasonable one later on even though he was the one making unreasonable requests.
Stiles took a deep breath and forced his volume down a few decibels, “Derek. I can’t believe after three years of helping fight the strangely supernatural you are fucking benching me. I will not be cajoled into staying home while you guys go off and get yourselves killed without me.”
Derek clammed up after that, avoiding Stiles’ gaze, choosing instead to look out at the field of yellow wildflowers where they had all their arguments. It was something they had started even before they were fucking. Every time any of the ‘pack’ had an argument or a beef to pick they would drive out (or run out) to the field of dandelions and buttercups to have their disagreement. The philosophy being that no one could stay angry in a field of dandelions.
“Just,” Stiles began, “just tell me why. Maybe I’ll listen.” Derek looked at Stiles like he had just announced that Christmas was tomorrow. “Maybe.” He reiterated.
“Stiles, you got hurt last time. Not grazed by a bullet or passed out from using too much magic hurt but actually hurt.”
“It wasn’t--” Stiles began.
“No. Don’t tell me it wasn’t bad. You were in the hospital Stiles. You are perfectly human and perfectly breakable and it is killing me.” Stiles took a step back.
“Fast.” Stiles said. “Too fast. Like Scott and Allison too fast. We’ve been going out like what 4 months and you are already trying to control what I do.” Derek chose this moment to glare at him. “No. Just because I am dating you, it does not mean you have final control over whether I get involved in a fight. That will always be my decision.” Stiles wondered if Derek would be able to accept that. Wondered if this would be the end of it.
Derek visibly swallowed, “Stiles, I, I still don’t like it.”
And then Stiles smiled because he knew he had won.
“Okay,” Stiles whispered. “That is perfectly okay.” He walked towards Derek, closing the space in between them. “You cannot like it, and maybe that will affect my decision, but you can’t decide for me.” He cupped Derek’s chin and lightly kissed his lips. “It’s okay.” Stiles kissed him again. “But I’m still going.” Derek rolled his eyes, pulled Stiles’ arms so they curled around his neck and properly kissed Stiles. When they broke the kiss, Derek sat in the field and pulled Stiles on top of him. “I do appreciate the concern though.” Stiles said before kissing Derek again and grinding down slightly inappropriately.
Coincidentally the dandelion field was also the place where the most make-up sex occurred in the ‘pack’.
Stiles and Derek have been dating ten months.
The minute Derek and Stiles had learned that the sheriff had to work late they started planning to do nothing. The other teen wolf-affiliates were very much elsewhere today as Derek had threatened their livelihoods if they even thought about disturbing him and Stiles.
It was a good day to watch crappy 90's movies in the Stilinski living room and pig out on whatever foods they could get delivered (of which there happened to be many and was at one point particularly funny when the Chinese delivery man and the pizza guy showed up at the same time.)
"Stiles," Derek said as he reached over Stiles for another slice of the meat mayhem pizza. "Tell me again why we are watching Clueless?"
"Because," Stiles responded, mouth full of fried chicken, "I like to live vicariously through the lives of normal teenagers in movies."
"Stiles, no one has had a cell phone that large in five years."
"They still go to parties and they don't have to use wolfs bane bullets to kill werewolves." Derek went silent after that.
"Ah. Come on Derek I didn't mean it that way." Stiles rose from his sitting position on the floor to meet Derek's eyes. "Even if Peter hadn't bitten Scott do you think you could keep me away from this werewolf business for a second? I would have guessed what was happening after two, maybe three of Peter's killings. And do you know why?" Derek shook his head. "Because I have been waiting my whole life for something supernatural to happen to me. My brain is open to the possibility of magic and werewolves, unlike my father was and every other non-Argent adult in this town is. And you better damn well know I would have dragged Scott into it all the same."
Derek tilted his head to the side like he didn’t believe Stiles, and then busted out laughing, “Of course you would Stiles. You would totally and completely figure it out.”
Stiles thwacked Derek on the side of the head, “Do not laugh at me! I would have figured it out!”
Derek calmed down but kept a smile on his face, “I know. I know.” Derek chewed on his lips, contemplating something before giving in, placing a hand on Stiles’ cheek and rubbing his thumb across it. Stiles manipulated Derek into a lying position on the couch and settled right on top of him. “Stiles,” Derek protested, “what are you-- Oh, never mind.”
Stiles began stroking Derek’s Henley. “I love it when you wear this color,” he said absentmindedly, then looked into Derek’s eyes, resting his chin on Derek’s sternum. “It brings out the green in your eyes.” Derek merely smiled and began running a hand up and down Stiles’ back.
It was later, when Guido babbling about principessas could be heard from the television, before Life is Beautiful shifted to a depressing movie, that Stiles heard Derek mumble the words, “I love you.”
Stiles and Derek have been dating for a year and a half and are now living together.
“DEREK ALPHA HALE IF YOU DO NOT COME IN THIS WATER RIGHT NOW I WILL PERSONALLY GET SCOTT AND ISAAC TO DRAG YOU IN HERE!” Derek stayed seated at the shore of the lake. “Sco--”
“No Stiles.” Scott said simply, and then dunked Allison under the water.
“Fine. Isaac will you please talk some sense into your alpha?” Stiles turned to Isaac, who was playing chicken with the rest of the werewolves, “And by talk I mean force.”
Isaac raised his eyebrows and smirked but said nothing. Stiles knew that asking anyone else would be fruitless.
“Why are you so hell bent on getting him out here? Lydia is sunbathing and I don’t see you doing anything to her.” Jackson said as Erica was finally shoved off his shoulders by Isaac.
“Because I don’t want to touch Lydia inappropriately under the water.” Boyd, Isaac, Allison and Erica burst out laughing while Jackson gave him an incredulous look and Scott pretended to gag. “Okay, I will admit that touching Lydia would be amazing, I mean she’s gorgeous man. But I feel like there would be something inherently wrong with me groping your girlfriend.”
Apparently his rant had not gone unnoticed by Derek because suddenly he was being thrown over shoulders and dragged from the water. “Noooooo. It’s so much fun in the water. I love the water. You should stay. We could play water games and--” Suddenly Stiles wasn’t being separated from his newfound love, but instead was flying through the air until he crashed into it. Sputtering to the surface he exclaimed, “SEE IF I BLOW YOU TONIGHT!!” But Derek hadn’t retreated back onto the sandy shore; instead he was now throwing Erica into the water, with Isaac looking at Derek like he wanted to be next.
He swam over to Derek and attached himself to the alpha’s back. “Hey there.” Derek said to the human on his back. Stiles merely hummed in response. “So what was that about touching me inappropriately?” Derek teased mercilessly. Stiles buried his nose in his boyfriend’s shoulder and watched as Allison tried to distract Scott from listening to them flirt. Derek sighed and slowly started sinking into the water, bringing Stiles along with him. To prevent drowning, Stiles made a yelping noise and detached himself from the older man. When Derek resurfaced, a vision right out of Stiles’ wet dreams, he laughed heartily and pulled Stiles into a kiss.
“Ha-ha.” Stiles replied when the kiss was broken. “Very funny. Drown Stiles. I’m going to go sit with Lydia. I’m bored here.” Derek frowned at Stiles.
“You were the one who...” Derek started to say but petered out when he realized his complaints were useless. He half considered going after Stiles but then Isaac was at his side wanting to be thrown into the water.
“Great day, isn’t it Lydie?” Lydia lowered her sunglasses and glared at him, “a, Lydia.” She raised her sunglasses, and sighed, a long suffering, I can’t believe this is my life right now, sigh.
“Yes. Stiles.” Lydia pursed her lips, already done with him.
“Aaaah, come on Lydia, I came all the way over here to talk to you.”
Lydia raised her eyebrow, picked up a fashion magazine and started flipping through the pages. “If you get a drop of water on my Vogue I will personally take out your entrails and feed them to you.” Stiles frowned and rolled away from the angry ginger.
“Is this better?” Stiles said as he got about ten feet away from Lydia. She merely nodded and raised a hand in recognition. Stiles looked away from Lydia and to the pack playing in the water, a clear-blue color because it really was a great day to come out. No clouds in the sky and the water missing its usual algae-tinted hue. Derek, done throwing the betas around, came to sit next to the sand-covered teenager. He kissed the human’s temple, threw an arm around him, and they sat in comfortable silence.
Stiles and Derek have been dating a year and ten months.
Stiles wondered if he was ever going to get used to the feeling of punching someone in the face. The painful skin on skin contact, knuckles hitting flesh, feeling the bones underneath. Probably not. He also didn’t think he would get used to being punched in the face. The blood in the mouth, head ringing, face-numbing pain. Theoretically he knew he was supposed to go for the vulnerable spots: eyes, nose, throat, sometimes the cheek if the face was particularly fat, never the forehead, never the jaw; but realistically he was just happy if he made solid contact with the attacker.
Stiles checked his knuckles briefly, then brought his right knee up to his attacker’s groin, and, when the man flinched, pushed him away. The person landed on his rear, and Stiles knew he should run away from him but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know why, out of all the people in Beacon Hills, he was attacked by another human, especially one so well dressed. It’s not like he tried to connect everything to the supernatural but it was kind of hard not to after years of playing connect the dots. He walked up to the man, and placed a foot precariously over his groin.
“We’re gonna do this simply. You tell me why you attacked me and I won’t crush your balls.” Stiles watched the man squirm, and pressed a little harder on his crotch.
Finally the man snapped, “WHAT THE FUCK DUDE? Are you NUTS? I’m just trying to rob you.”
Stiles frowned. “If you were trying to rob me, you would have just asked me for my wallet. You’re also dressed like you own a private island. So I’m gonna ask you again; why did you attack me? And remember: it only takes 7 pounds of pressure to take the testicles off.” Stiles grounded his foot on his attacker’s groin.
The man made a far from manly squeak, coughed, and eventually replied, “You’re the magic man that is sleeping with the alpha filth. It is a sin against nature.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those human purist people,” Stiles had been getting a handful of complaints from the supernatural community about his dalliances with Derek, some calling him a harlot enchanting an alpha and others wondering if he needed help from escaping the from the clutches of the head werewolf.
Feeling braver, the dogmatist replied, “A man shall not lie with another man. Or in your case, a man-wolf.”
“Oh. And you are homophobic too. Just great.” Not in the mood to deal with bigots, Stiles frowned and kicked the man in the balls. The man’s cry of pain almost made him smile in grim satisfaction. Almost.
“Come after me or my boyfriend again, and I’ll take them off.” Stiles threatened and continued walking to his car. When he found his way to the front seat of his Jeep he collected his thoughts. He wondered how many more people he would have to handle that didn’t agree with his lifestyle choices. He didn’t want to go to the apartment, Derek would definitely ask him about the purple bruises he knew were forming on his body and he really didn’t want to worry the alpha. He sighed into his steering wheel.
He probably should have tried to convince the purist, homophobic asshole that he was wrong with words instead of a hard kick to the groin. But he could always do better. Every single time he could always do something better.
Stiles huffed and flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. He would have to face Derek eventually, and he really needed a hug (and maybe a validation that their relationship wasn’t a ‘sin against nature.’)
Stiles and Derek have been dating for 2 years.
They were arguing about something stupid. Something that wasn’t even about them. Something that had to do with Peter and Jackson’s unusual closeness recently. Stiles can’t even remember what side he was arguing on.
They were in the dandelion field, shouting at each other, (and this time they were really both shouting even though the topic was less than trivial) and Stiles could have sworn Derek was growling at him.
Then, Derek stopped yelling, let Stiles scream abuse at him until he realized the werewolf wasn’t screaming back. They stood apart, so far apart that when Derek began to whisper, Stiles couldn’t hear him.
“I don’t think I can do this Stiles.” Derek repeated and started walking to his car.
Stiles grabbed his arm as he walked by, “Can’t do what Derek?” Derek stopped but didn’t answer, wouldn’t even look up at him. “Derek. What can’t you do? Talk about Jackson?” No response. “Fight?” No response. Stiles clinched his fists in Derek’s jacket. “Us? Our relationship.” Derek made a high pitched humming noise at this. “This is not how you break up with someone.” Derek tore his arm away from Stiles’ grip and continued walking to his car. “COME ON.” Stiles screamed. “Jackson and Lydia have broken up better than this. And he did it through a text once. At least they knew their relationship was over. But me? I don’t even get the words. I just have to guess that this is what you mean.”
Derek turned around a grimace on his face and said, “You want the words Stiles?”
“Yes.” Stiles punched the word out.
“Okay Stiles. Here they are: I don’t. Want. To be. With you. Anymore.” Derek stared into Stiles’ eyes as he said each word carefully; making sure the right one came out. Derek broke eye contact and then said with less conviction, “You can have the apartment, and I’ll pick my stuff up later when I know you aren’t ho-- there. When you aren’t there.” Derek turned to go back to the Camaro and suddenly, Stiles stopped being angry. His anger drained away into… something. Something he didn’t want to think about right now. He watched in silence as Derek retreated to his car.
Water dropped on his cheek and for a second he thought he was crying but a look at the gray sky told a different story. The weather was matching his emotions. How perfectly cliché.
And Stiles was angry again. Angry at Derek for thinking that they couldn’t work, angry at the sky for raining, angry at this day for being cliché, angry at himself for not trying harder.
The rain was coming down more heavily, large drops that spread wide on ground. Stiles ran a hand through his hair, stomped at the ground and trudged off to his car. Stiles thought about going home, but as he got closer to the main road running through town he decided to go to Scott’s house. Might as well get drunk and bitch to his best friend.
It may have also had something to do with not wanting to come home to an empty apartment.
Stiles and Derek have been broken up for a month.
Stiles woke up clenching dirt. This was strange for number of reasons, most prominently because he didn’t remember taking a nap in the woods. When he relaxed his hand and opened his eyes he noticed two things: 1. He was not in the woods but rather an unfinished basement, and 2. there was a bunch of scraggly, twig-ridden hair.
“WHAT THE HELL?” Stiles screamed at the hair.
“Oh.” Whoever looked up at him had a serious case of crazy-eyes. “You’ve awoken. Oh well.” The woman, or the person had the voice of a woman, looked back down at his chest. Stiles followed her eyes and saw it: the obviously magical symbols being etched on his chest. The woman was using a scalpel to carve a spell into his chest.
Stiles couldn’t tell what the magic was supposed to do, but if he had to guess, it would be a summoning spell, and a serious one, one that required a sacrifice to bring about; then again it could also be a thousand other spells that required a portion of blood to work. It didn’t really matter though, because Stiles wasn’t planning on sticking around to find out.
Spells worked a specific way, they needed the written words to release themselves and the words had to be perfect to work. One time Stiles had blown up a train cart when he was trying to summon medical supplies. Knowing this, Stiles shifted so that the witch ruined her workings.
The woman made a noise of frustration and started to flip Stiles over, to go again on his back, but as soon as Stiles was on his side he threw a fist full of the brown dirt at the woman and ran across the room, staying close to the door. Reaching into his pocket, Stiles pulled out the rune dice he had made on a whim two and a half years ago on a serious Adderall high.
Before the woman could regain her senses and attack, he threw the dice on the floor and cast the spell they landed on. Thankfully, luck was on his side and the runes that the dice showed formed an attack spell. Centering himself, he poured his energy into the words, the words that were begging to be used. The spell didn’t attack the woman, but instead sought out the faults in the foundation, managing to collapse some of the ceiling on top of her. The energy snapped back into him and when he regained his head, Stiles noticed that the ceiling was still coming down, the building obviously old and rotting. Stiles grabbed the dice and ran up the stairs and out of the house as it crumbled behind him.
Outside, Stiles vaguely wondered how he was going to get himself home, he certainly hadn’t driven himself here and the cuts on his chest were starting to hurt. The witch must have put an anesthetic on him which was now wearing off.
“STILES!” the mentioned heard someone scream at him, and that’s when he saw it: Scott and Derek coming out of the Camaro, vaulting towards him. “Stiles! We noticed you were missing and followed the scent here! What happened dude?” It was Scott talking to him.
“I...” Stiles began but then doubled over in pain and perhaps blood loss. Yeah, he was definitely losing a lot of blood.
“Scott! Get him into the Camaro; we’ll take him to the hospital.” Derek ordered, and there was some brief eye glaring before Scott sighed and gingerly herded his friend into the car.
Stiles vaguely remembered a “I swear to God if you bleed out and die in my car I will bring you back to life and kill you again.” Type of threat from Derek. Then, nothing.
Stiles and Derek have been broken up for four months.
Stiles can pinpoint the exact moment when things became “fine” between him and Derek. Stiles had been regaling the pack about his brilliant plan to stop... something, when Derek had snapped and calmly told Stiles that his plan was quote, “so stupid that even Scott wouldn't have come up with it.” Stiles glared at Derek and the entire room tensed (except for Scott who momentarily pouted then noticed the other’s reactions). Stiles had been doing this lately, pushing Derek until he broke, and undermining his authority, waiting for him to actually do something about it.
“Yeah?” Stiles questioned, “I don’t see you coming up with any other plans."
"I would like to say-" Scott began to defend his plans until Allison put a hand on his thigh and told him to wait.
Stiles and Derek continued to glare at each other. Until Derek cracked under Stiles’ gaze and smirked. "I guess you are right..."
Everyone turned their heads to see Stiles’ reaction. "Well okay then. We'll do as I say?"
Another head turn, "Yeah..." It was only when both Stiles and Derek smiled that the room let out the collective breathe they had been holding and Scott started a long rant about how brilliant his plans were (managing to bring up Gerard Argent at least 12 times.)
When the meeting officially ended Stiles found himself hanging back from the mass exodus. It felt weird because for the past 4 months he had always been the first one to leave. When Isaac left the room, chasing after Scott who had deemed Isaac 'it,' the only people remaining were Stiles and Derek.
"So," Stiles began. "Are we okay?"
"Stiles, I was the one who left you. Don't you need to be okay with it first?" Derek pulled on the sleeve of his shirt.
"No need to remind me. I was there. I just..." Stiles sighed. "I just want us to be okay." Eggshells, Derek had been walking around Stiles like he was made of eggshells, and while it was appreciated for the first few days, it had quickly turned annoying as sin. Derek gave Stiles a half smirk and Stiles busted into a grin and he knew Derek wouldn’t give him anymore pity glares.
They stood in the entrance, awkwardly trying not to look at each other. “Do you... need anything else?”
Stiles licked his lips before giving Derek a sheepish grin, “I’m pretty sure I need you to check out my car...”
“Oh, I see your plan now, befriend me again and I’ll fix your car...” Derek rolled his eyes but reached for his black leather jacket.
Stiles gasped melodramatically, “How did you see through my ploy oh great fixer of my Jeep?”
“Easy,” Derek said opening the door for himself and Stiles, “I am the only one who will fix this hunk of junk you call a car.”
Stiles shoved Derek’s shoulder in reply and started running to his car.
Stiles and Derek have been broken up for 6 months.
Stiles was at the point in the fight he always gets to, the part where he shifts from being mildly useful to completely useless. His bullets always run out and his magic always depletes before the battle ends. He’s talked to Allison about it before and she felt the same way, her arrows always seem to last half the battle, but at least she has some killer hand-to-hand combat skills, and while Stiles can throw a punch, he’d rather avoid any up-close fighting.
The thing was that they were fighting trolls; honest to god Harry Potter-esque trolls. And Stiles highly doubted the pack's ability to deal with the remaining three trolls without magic. So, Stiles stopped his retreat and centered himself, tossing the dice onto the forest floor and waited for the spell to pop up. That's when it happened, Stiles was suddenly knocked out by an all-encompassing blow to the abdomen. Knocked to the ground, his breathing became stilted as consciousness slipped from his fingertips. He was vaguely aware of a thunderous roar and then...
Nothing until that is he woke up slowly. He wondered vaguely for a moment if he had died because everything was white, but then he saw the dark figure on the right. He tried to call out but the words caught in his mouth. Everything was coming into focus now and Stiles knew for sure that he was in a hospital.
Stiles tried to move and that was when the figure moved towards him. Stiles opened his mouth to say, 'Derek.' But the werewolf cut him off.
"Stiles! I-I thought you were dead when your body hit the ground." Derek went to place a hand on Stiles’ but pulled away at the last second. "Why did you stop running? You could have hurt yourself!"
Stiles took a deep breath, "I was trying to protect you guys."
"We can heal Stiles, it takes longer for you and that is," Derek paused, “terrifying."
"Stop the presses something I did made the alpha mad."
"Stiles," Derek growled. He knew what Stiles was doing. "Of course something you did made me angry. Occasionally I think you were made to make me angry."
"Nice, preach at the injured dude." Stiles tried to lift himself up but just managed to hurt himself. Any retort from Derek was swallowed. "How long have I been out?"
"Four days." Stiles frowned.
"Shit dude. Guess it's good that it summer. What are you doing here? Where is everyone else?" Stiles noticed the plethora of gifts at his bedside, his Gameboy from Scott, flowers from the girls, a hand drawn card from Isaac, 'Get Well' written on a sticky note from Jackson, a hand written gift card for free curly fries from his dad, and candy from Boyd and Erica.
"It is technically not visiting hours."
Stiles breathed out an "Oh." Then looked at Derek, "Where's your gift you dick?" Derek fumbled around in his coat pocket, and presented to Stiles his dice. "Giving me something that is already mine is not a gift." Stiles pouted.
"What if I give you something I took?"
Stiles deepened his frown, "No it doesn't count it was mine in the first place. What did you take from me? Because I swear to God Derek if you are the one that keeps taking my socks instead of the washing machine I will probably have to make a formal amends to that demon spawn. Did you know just last week, well, I guess now it is two-" Stiles was cut off by Derek lips crashing onto his. Stiles tried to lean into the kiss but a burst of pain caused him to break the melding of lips and cry out in pain instead.
"Shit." Derek said under his breath. "Some gift giver I am. But. Will you take it? Me?"
"Shit Der." Stiles looked away from Derek. "Do you know how frustrating you are? I don't know if I can do this on again off again thing like Scott and Allison can. And if you freak out and leave me again or hell if I freak out and leave the next time, it would be disastrous. I'm talking cities leveled, lives ruined disastrous. Can we really risk it?"
"Stiles. I 'freaked out' because I was caring too much about you. I thought if I left you, the feelings would stop and they didn't. I still constantly worry about where you are and what you are doing and who you are with. And I know that being with you won't stop these feelings but at least I can calm down knowing you are with me." Stiles made a high-pitched whine in response to the declaration and then bit his lip to stop the noise. Derek gripped the rail of the hospital bed briefly before relaxing and moving away. “Okay. Okay. I get the message.”
Stiles let Derek get to the door before answering, “Derek,” the mentioned paused in the doorway, “Yes. We can go out again you giant bag of dicks.” Derek turned around with a smile so bright on his face that Stiles thought he might be broken. “Get over here and hold my hand before the nurses kick you out.” Stiles offered his hand to the alpha. Derek took the offered hand and interlaced their fingers.
Ten years after Derek and Stiles get back together.
As the gang grew up many, many things happened:
Scott and Allison had continued their on again off again relationship throughout college. But one summer after Allison and Lydia took a European vacation where Allison came back with a lovely shade of pink on her cheeks and Lydia came back with a self-satisfied smirk on her face, Allison and Scott got back together and haven’t broken up since. Allison followed in her father’s footsteps and became a legal arms dealer for police departments up and down the east coast, which brought her away from home often. It didn’t matter much as Scott was an ER doctor who got called in at all hours of the night.
Lydia became a Professor of Math at a highly respected university and the only reason she hasn’t gotten her Fields Medal yet is because they only award them once every four years. Lydia and Jackson had gotten past their teenage love that had seemed to be the be all and end all, but in reality had been the right here, right now kind of love. The fallout had been epic though. Lydia and Jackson wouldn’t even be in the same room together until a year later and even then they only exchanged about two or three words a month. Jackson became a highly paid corporate lawyer in San Francisco, only coming back to Beacon Hills at the full moon, making it extremely easy for Lydia to avoid him.
Stiles knows for a fact that Allison wasn’t the only one who had experimented in same sex relations because during that same summer Allison had gone abroad, Scott had slept with Isaac. Isaac, who had been dating a lovely girl at the time and had a sexual identity crisis (which Stiles had expected from Scott not Isaac) to which Derek had punched Scott out for quote “messing with his brothers feelings.” It took a little while but Isaac got over his identity crisis, the lovely girl took him back, and they were now parents to a lovely 2 year old boy who gets treated like a baby doll by Erica and Boyd’s kids.
Erica and Boyd were the most stable relationship of the group, getting married a week after Erica graduated and having twins (two girls) a year later. Boyd worked construction with Isaac while Erica had earned a good amount of money from part-time modeling during college and with a degree in English was planning on writing a series of teen paranormal romance novels based on their high school experiences. (Derek was highly against this idea but Stiles was enthralled by it).
Stiles and Derek never officially broke up again but there was a time while Stiles was getting his Masters in both Criminal Justice and Folklore Studies that both Stiles and Derek had cheated on the other, both thinking the other had cheated on them, and their relationship had been a far cry from solid. Stiles got elected into his father’s old job as Sheriff and after eight years of not knowing what to do with his life Derek ended up joining the volunteer fire department (as he did not need actual funds). But in the end they were where they belonged, where they were always going to end up: with each other.