As he's sinking, Derek wonders if this is the end. It probably is, since Stiles is soon going to end as lizard food and his pack is way too incompetent and not loyal enough to come in time to safe him.
Derek doesn't want to open his eyes. The water is swallowing him up, hungry and merciless. Will his pack find him later tonight, floating in the middle of the pool? Or the water polo class tomorrow during first period?
Apparently, he did open his eyes, because suddenly something bright comes into his vision. Derek tries to reach out for it, but the chlorine makes his eyes sting and a mix of tears and water gets in the way, blocks his view of the dazzling, warm object coming towards him.
Maybe Stiles will save him after all. Maybe he didn't lie.
Who am I kidding, thinks Derek, In the end, they all lie. They're all liars. That's why you can't trust them, remember? That's why you can't love anyone.
Then the darkness is back again.
Until he feels hands and forces his eyes open again, taking in the sight of the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
The nights following the pool incident, Derek doesn't sleep. That is, when he does, he dreams.
He dreams of Stiles.
Somewhere deep within him he knows what this is. He knows about how trust has wormed its way into his heart once again, knows that in that moment, when he saw Stiles coming for him, he realized that his soul had been captivated once more.
He dreams of Stiles.
He dreams of Stiles looking like an angel, spreading out his wings, pulling him up. So beautiful. Too beautiful.
He dreams of Stiles.
After everything was over, they stood outside the building, the other's had finally gotten there as well. Stiles' eyes meet Derek's. The boy who looked back, came back, and the liar.
Derek stays in his mansion for some time. He doesn't hide in that dark, cold, godforsaken place- but actually, he totally does. He is ashamed. He can still see Stiles eyes: big, sad, serious and full of determination.
He wants to run to Stiles and pour his heart out, but he can't. The wolf inside him wants to claim his mate and howls every night when Derek doesn't give in.
Derek is sitting on the sofa he found and dragged into his house, reading in one of the old books he found in the library that talk about mythical creatures.
It's raining outside, a steady drip-drip-drip on the window that is just barely not broken. Further back in the room there is a leak in the roof, the rain is caught by a strategically placed plastic bucket. Everything smells like wet forest, moldy wood and dog. At least the wind has stopped.
He can hear the Jeep coming, working its way down the lousy road that leads to his house. Then the motor stops roaring, the door is opened and then shut a little too forcefully and Stiles is stomping towards the house, preceded by a smell of anger and frustration.
Derek sits up and puts his book down on the sofa. Then he quietly walks to the door, waiting in the shadows for Stiles to come in.
The boy doesn't even bother with knocking.
"Okay, Derek: this is getting ridiculous. You cannot just hide away in your, your emo-cave and sulk while shit is going down! You have a goddamn pack to take care of! The kanima thingy is still running around killing people, but no, you're busy playing evil broody wolf in the forest. "
Stiles is glaring at him reproachfully. Derek just snarls at him. "What makes you think you need to come here and yell at me?"
"Maybe the fact that you are totally failing at this whole Alpha thing? You don't even trust your own pack enough to let them take care of you! I mean what is wrong with you, why did you even run around biting desperate teenagers if you don't-"
"Has it ever occurred to you that I just want to be left alone? I don't want to get along with everyone!" Derek snaps, his eyes flashing red.
"Well-but- I do! I would like to get along with you, okay, or at least get a, a thank you from you or something that gives me the idea that you are able to appreciate me saving your ass! Or are you too emotionally constipated for that?!"
Stiles' fast, unsteady breathing is the only noise breaking the thick, tense silence between the two. It is too dark to tell what it is, but there is some clouded emotion hidden behind the boy's anger. That and a couple of scents Derek can't quite categorize.
The rain outside is a dull, steady drumming filling Derek's ears.
There are so many things Derek could say, so many more things that he really, really wants to say. He feels like he is overflowing with feelings that he can't voice. Yes, I am thankful. Yes, I appreciate you. Yes, I want to get along with you, too. Actually, I want way more. Ever since I opened my eyes and saw you coming to my rescue like some freaking angel I want so much more than just your begrudging acceptance.
Then there are the things he really should say. He should probably explain why he isn't the best Alpha and that he is willing to learn. He should tell Stiles that while he is a good boy and whatever, friends isn't a thing Derek is looking out for. Maybe he should even admit his attraction to Stiles, be mature and promise that he has himself under control as long as Stiles doesn't do anything stupid.
He should praise Stiles for his good work. He vaguely remembers that praise from the Alpha is important for the other pack members.
Naturally, all he does is stare at Stiles without saying a word.
Derek sees Stiles fingers twitching, then a quick nod, a sigh, and he's gone. That's when Derek notices that he owes Stiles an answer. And maybe- possibly- a Thank you.
With a few steps he is outside, scanning his front lawn for any sign of Stiles. The Jeep is still there- and there, hidden in the dark, is Stiles. He is leaning against the car, arms stretched with his hands on the roof.
Derek approaches him, careful not to make a single noise. He is still not entirely sure what he is doing.
That is when he smells how sad Stiles is. And the faint hint of longing.
And underneath all that, Stiles smells a little bit like home.
Not like the burnt out ruins Derek is living in.
Not like New York had smelled.
He smells like pack.
Derek reaches out and puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder.
Stiles startles, jerks back and turns around. "Oh my god!" he utters breathlessly and with a shudder, his eyes widening as he backs off until he is stopped by the merciless metal of his Jeep. "Please don't kill me, I didn't mean the part with the emotional- or was it the Alpha thing, because you're a wonderful Alpha, perfect, really, never seen a better one-"
Derek growls, but regrets it immediately. Right now, he's not going for intimidating.
It does shut Stiles up though, which is unusual for itself since growling has long stopped being effective on Stiles. Maybe it's because Derek still hasn't taken his hand of and it is now resting on the back of Stiles' neck.
Raindrops are slowly rolling down the pale skin under his fingers. The rain has almost completely stopped, and warm tendrils of sunlight sneak through the clouds. Stiles eyelids flutter, his lashes gently caressing his flushed cheeks. After nothing happens for a while, he stubbornly returns Derek's stare, crossing his arms over his chest.
Fuck. This is way harder than Derek expected.
"Thank you." he finally says, taking his hand off Stiles' neck and leaning back a little to give the boy a little more space.
Stiles opens his mouth, then visibly overthinks what he was about to return and waits for Derek to continue.
"And I…" Derek starts, searching for words to express himself. "I trust you."
Gazing at him open mouthed, Stiles nods, shakes his head and utters a noise that could be a laugh or a huff, Derek isn't quite sure. Then the boy reaches out, a little hesitantly, and carefully fists his hands in Derek's leather jacket. Taking a deep breath, Stiles leans forward and places a shy kiss on Derek's mouth. "Thanks," he smiles.
Derek is speechless for a moment. "How…why…why would you" And oh god, now he's stuttering.
Stiles' smile just gets that much bigger. "Dude, seriously? You just told me that you trust me, in Derek speech that's like a two hour Shakespearean poem confessing your undying love to me. I mean, I'm sorry if I got that wrong, but-"
"No," Derek interrupts quickly, frowning. He feels like he's the teenager and not Stiles. Who is positively laughing at him now. "Gosh, you sourwolf, stop being broody and c'mere!" he says, and then he pulls Derek into another kiss. This one is longer, deeper and leaves Derek hungry for more.
"I think," Stiles murmurs into Derek's ear, "I think you really shouldn't stay in that cold, wet house for too long. How about you come to my place? It's warm there. And dry." He grins, licking his lips. "And there is a bed."
Derek rolls his eyes. "So subtle," he comments, but gets into the car anyways. "Though we are going to have a conversation about the bed thing."
Stiles whines.
A couple of days later, everything seems fine. They have established a 'Stiles will have blue balls for the next two frickin' years' clause (Stiles named it) and the pack and Scott are okay with it. The Sheriff will be informed after Stiles' 18th birthday.
Which is when the Sheriff bursts in on them making out in Stiles' admittedly very comfortable bed.
Sometimes Derek wonders when his biggest concerns have shifted from evil Alphas and later Kanimas to protective parents.