Notes: Sterek stole my heart. The song is You'll ask for me by Tyler Hilton.
I am what you see, I am not what they say, but if I turned out to be, would you love me anyway?
Stiles stands in the doorway, staring at the sleeping man on his bed, and even though it's not the first time that this happens, it's the first time that he notices.
Derek's not completely a man yet, really. A boy-man, a man-boy, something like that, almost a man, but almost a boy, too. He's muscular, his shoulders are broad, but he's not as big as Stiles thinks he'll be once he's fully grown. He has wrinkles and dark circles under his eyes, and his jaw is always clenched in barely contained rage, or pain, or anger, or some other feeling that only Derek knows about, he frowns even in his sleep, but Stiles has seen him smile, he doesn't remember when but he remembers that almost smile that faded far too soon.
He takes a tentative step closer, Derek doesn't stir, his breathing is soft and even, so Stiles walks all the way to kneel on the floor at the edge of the bed, and studies the werewolf's face. He wonders how's it possible, given the amount of nights that Derek has sneaked into his room to sleep, that he didn't notice just how lonely and scared he looks.
They're all so young and so self-centered that they forget that Derek's almost just a kid, too.
He raises his hand slowly and traces the contour of Derek's jaw with the tips of his fingers, his skin looks rough and hard, but it's surprisingly soft to the touch. His lips are smooth and dry, and his hair is so soft, Stiles can't help but run his fingers through it just once.
It's not until he stops looking and stroking his hair that he realizes that Derek's awake and staring at him, blue eyes shining almost transparent against the darkness of the room.
"You looked so lonely." Stiles whispers, without even thinking, but hey, that's really nothing new.
Derek growls, softly, almost a purr, but makes not move to push him away.
"I understand now." Stiles says, his hand moving back to stroke Derek's hair.
"You do?" Derek whispers, like he has no idea what Stile's talking about.
"Roll over, I might not mind sharing, but there's no way I'm sleeping on the floor."
And Derek just scoots closer to the wall to leave space for Stiles to settle onto the mattress. It's not as awkward as he thought it would be, sharing bed with big bad wolf Derek Hale and all, it's actually kind of comfortable, because Derek's warm and his breathing is soft and Stiles relaxes almost instantly.
"How old are you?" He asks, as they lay facing each other.
"Twenty."
Too damn young to be so damaged.
They stay in silence for a moment, no one them looking away or closing their eyes, and suddenly Derek speaks, voice low and soft.
"I'm not the horrible person you think I am." It's not an apology, nor an excuse.
And Stiles thinks that's kind of true, because the tired, sad Derek in front of him seems a lot more real that the invulnerable Derek that threatens them all on daily basis.
"Yeah, I'm beginning to think you're kinda' cool."
Derek smiles then, his lips curve so slightly that Stiles would have missed it if he hadn't been looking so closely.
"But if I were, as horrible as I seem…would you still…approve of me sleeping here, once in a while?"
"Are you asking for permission?" Stiles almost laughs.
Derek growls and looks away.
"I will still come whatever you said."
"I'm okay with that."
And then they're looking at each other again, so very close, their noses brushing slightly.
"My window is always open, just so you know." The ghosts that haunt you can't follow you here.
"I know."
Stiles had never thought of the possibility of falling in love with Derek Hale until that very moment.