So I wrote this instead of working on Sad Prayers For Guilty Bodies, and I don't regret it one bit. Just had to take a break before getting back into that story line.
This one is based off the song "Terrible Things" by Mayday Parade, which everyone should go listen to right now, even though it's sad and gives me major feels.
Enjoy!
"Dad?"
John sighed. "What, Stiles?"
There was a hesitant pause before the ten-year-old boy whispered, "How did you and Mom meet?"
John froze, small glass of whiskey halfway to his lips. He lowered it back to the table and looked closely at his son. His eyes were studying the hands twisting together in his lap, sad and hopeless and desperate, and how could John say no?
But first, he poured just a bit more whiskey into his glass, gulping it down quickly and praying for the strength he needed to get through this.
Stiles never forgot that night. He never forgot the look in his father's drunken eyes as he talked about the love that he and his wife shared, like it was right out of a fairytale. He also never forgot how the broken man pleaded with God to show his son mercy and convinced his son that love wasn't worth it.
That was the day Stiles promised the only person he had left that he would never risk his heart by giving it to another.
Stiles decided the next month that he was going to be in love with Lydia. She was smart and pretty and popular and never even glanced in his direction. She was safe. Stiles wasn't weird for not having a crush, but he knew that she would never like him. She would never take his heart, as he would never take her's.
He waxed poetic over Lydia for years, and people believed that he was infatuated with her. It was perfect; he never dated anyone, but no one questioned it because he was supposedly too hung up on the gorgeous strawberry-blonde goddess to like anyone else.
Not that anyone would want to date him, anyway. Stiles was the lanky, pale, weird, nerdy guy. And a bit of an asshole. But whatever, that just made it easier to avoid the topic of having a relationship. He didn't feel that way about anyone, not even Lydia, so it didn't really matter.
Then Scott got bit by a werewolf and everything he knew was turned on its head.
His relationship with his dad went down the drain, his grades weren't as good, and he was coming home bruised and sore far too often with almost nothing to show for it.
But on the bright side, there was no time to even think about things like love. Well, there was for Scott, but he never was very good at prioritizing. As his love for Allison grew, his attention to the furrier aspects of his new life dwindled, and Stiles was left to pick up all the slack that he could. He didn't really mind; it gave him something to focus on that wasn't his father's disappointment, so that was a plus.
And then, Derek happened.
It started off as nothing to worry about. He was just godly attractive and aggressive and he sort of turned Stiles on, which confused him a bit at first, but he quickly accepted. It wasn't even a crush, just an attraction.
But as the next few years passed, and they had saved each other's lives more times than they could count, Stiles was suddenly hit with the fact that he loved Derek. He had for a year or so. It was his senior year, and he had thought he had made it without developing real feelings for anyone, something he was proud of. Until his realization. He had already vowed to never act on his attraction years ago, but this was different. He found himself unconsciously migrating towards the man every time they were in the same room. He would strive to impress him without even noticing. He would zone out staring at his face for minutes at a time until something snapped him out of it.
Sometimes he felt as though Derek was moving towards him, too. Or showing off whenever he noticed Stiles watching. Or he thought he would catch Derek looking at him, only for him to snap his gaze away when Stiles turned his head.
Then his brain would kick into gear, rationalizing that he was just imagining it out of some vain hope. It wasn't real, he had just gone his whole life without feeling this kind of thing, and his heart didn't know how to handle it. Obviously he wasn't going to do anything about it, but some part of him still wished that Derek felt the same way about him.
Stiles hadn't thought they were that big of a deal, his feelings, until they almost got him killed.
He didn't have a hero complex, not like some of his friends, but he was loyal to a fault and willing to do anything for those he loved. So when a hunter confronted the two of them while on a stake-out and pulled a gun, Stiles didn't hesitate to take the bullet meant for Derek.
He stumbled back a step and looked at the hunter. He was staring at Stiles' chest in horror, having just shot a human instead of the intended werewolf. Stiles then turned his gaze down to the red blooming across the front of his white t-shirt. Derek caught him before he even realized he was falling, yelling at Stiles for being such an idiot, but Stiles wasn't listening to what he was saying. He was looking up into Derek's beautiful eyes, filled with worry and anger and fear so potent it made Stiles' gut clench.
A hand slapped at his cheek as black started to obscure his view of those wonderful eyes, and he couldn't breathe.
He vaguely felt himself being lifted into arms of a running body, but only the dull sensation. The last thing he thought before he let the darkness take over was to thank God that at least he got to save the man he loved.
Stiles didn't expect to wake up. Obviously, whoever was with him didn't expect it either.
"Oh my God, he's awake! Nurse! Doctor! Mom! Stiles is awake!"
Stiles coughed and his chest felt like it was literally on fire. It hurt so bad that he almost blacked out, but then the pain was lessening and he could breathe properly again.
A few minutes later and he was able to pry his eyes open to see who was doing all the obnoxious shouting above him. It was no surprise when a crooked jaw swam into focus, moving quickly with the speed of its talking.
He was surprised, however, when he glanced to his side and saw the hand resting on his chest, covered in black veins, was connected to Derek. Stiles felt his heart swell at the sight of him, alive and right there in front of him, and he forced his hand to move and grip Derek's tightly, pressing it harder against his chest.
Derek looked exhausted and concerned, but so relieved it took Stiles' breath away.
Content with how things turned out, Stiles tuned out all the noise and let himself drown in the dark quiet once again.
A hand was holding his, stroking his wrist. Stiles slowly opened his eyes and met the gaze of his father.
"Hey, kid," he said with so much relief and fondness, it made Stiles smile. "Trust you to finally wake up after four days in the five minutes I was using the bathroom."
Stiles' smile grew and he croaked out, "Gotta keep you on your toes."
The sheriff chuckled and lifted Stiles' hand to press his lips to the back of it. He closed his eyes, briefly before meeting his son's. "You had me so damn scared. I thought I'd lost you."
Stiles felt the smile slip off his face, the happiness in his chest replaced by guilt. In that moment, all he could think of was saving Derek; he hadn't even thought of his father, who could have lost the only family he had left. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret his actions. If that bullet had hit Derek instead, it would have been so close to his heart. The wolfsbane poisoning would have gotten there too fast for treatment and Stiles definitely couldn't have gotten him help quickly enough regardless.
"Sorry, Dad. I wasn't thinking."
His father sighed wearily, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Yes, you were. Derek told me what happened. You knew exactly what you were doing, and that's what scares me."
They didn't talk anymore, and eventually Stiles fell asleep.
When he next woke up, Lydia was sitting to his left, chatting with Derek who was to his right.
"Morning, sleepyhead. Finally going to grace us with your consciousness?" she asked when she noticed his eyes were open.
Stiles tried to respond, but his throat was so dry that he just started hacking. Derek rushed to grab the cup of ice chips from the bedside table, placing two between Stiles' parted lips. They melted quickly enough and gave some moisture to his mouth and throat, soothing them. After eating a few more chips, Stiles was able to talk.
"Damn, being shot hurts like a bitch."
Lydia snorted, but Derek focused his gaze down onto the edge of the bed, looking so obviously guilty.
Well, that just wouldn't do.
"Lydia, my beautiful bombshell goddess, I love you, but could you give us a minute?"
She glanced between the two of them with a curious gleam in her eye before nodding, standing up, and floating out of the room.
Stiles looked back at Derek, who was still studiously avoiding eye contact.
"You know it's not your fault, right? You couldn't've stopped me. Maybe it was a little reckless, but… it was my choice and I don't regret it. And I'd do it again."
Derek let out a short, pained breath. His head suddenly snapped up and Stiles was shocked to see the fury burning in his eyes.
"Why?" he whispered angrily. "What makes my life worth more than yours? You… You're just human; you can't heal from these things like I can! Stiles, you could've died, don't you get that? And then what would we have done? Your dad? Scott, Lydia? Me? For some reason, you seem to think you're dispensable, or replaceable, so you just throw yourself headfirst into situations with creatures that could and would kill you in a heartbeat with a smile on their face! You can't be so fucking stupid, Stiles!"
Stiles' shock was definitely still there, but was being pushed back at the moment by his own rage. "What, so I was just supposed to let you get shot?! I got an incredibly shitty case of aconite poisoning, because that was a goddamn wolfsbane bullet. And look where it fucking hit me! Now imagine if it had hit you there instead! The infection would've reached your heart in minutes, and guess what, Derek, you're fucking right! I'm not strong like you big bad werewolves! I wouldn't have been able to carry you anywhere like you could carry me, because I'm just a weak little human. I get that you have a higher survival rate in general, but in this situation, I was sure as hell more likely to come out of it alive than you would've been!"
Derek's eyes were wide with surprise and he opened his mouth to speak, but Stiles wasn't done yet.
"And what the fuck is with this worthless complex you have?! You act like no one would miss you if you were to die, but that's bullshit! Scott looks to you for basically everything, Erica and Boyd practically hero worship you, and how do you think your sister would feel if you died? She probably wouldn't even be able to function! And that's not even to mention how I would feel if I lost you! I'm pretty sure we've all lost too many people we love, Derek, and trust me when I say that you sure as hell would've been one of those people if you'd been the one who got shot."
Stiles was winded, his chest hurt, and he started coughing again when he was finished yelling. Still looking shocked, reprimanded, and guilty, Derek automatically handed him more ice chips, which Stiles took and munched on angrily.
A few minutes later it was quiet. Derek was still processing, Stiles was still seething, and a nurse walked in to inform Derek that visiting hours were over and he'd have to leave in the next few minutes.
Derek nodded and finally looked at Stiles. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, and Stiles didn't quite know what to make of the intensity held there. Derek finally broke the gaze, but before he left he reached out a layed a hand over Stiles'. His thumb stroked the back of Stiles' palm and his knuckles, giving a brief squeeze. Then he was gone and the door was falling shut.
The next day, it was his dad Stiles woke up to again. They made casual talk for a while, the sheriff filling him in on what was happening outside the hospital room. Apparently, the hunter had gotten arrested less than two hours after the incident. Derek had burst into the hospital covered in blood coming from the limp body cradled in his arms. He had been borderline hysterical, thinking that Stiles had died, despite having been able to hear his weak heartbeat. They almost had to sedate him to pry Stiles' body away to get the care he needed, but Melissa managed to convince him to let go. The others had been notified instantly, and an hour later the police found an overturned car on its way out of Beacon Hills. The hunter had a concussion and a broken arm, but nothing too serious. It looked like his car had been hit in the side, which had caused it to drift off the road, hit a bump, and take an unfortunate few spins before stopping upside down.
Jackson would swear to his dying breath that the dent on his Porsche had already been there.
"So. Derek…"
Confused, Stiles asked, "What about him?"
The sheriff looked moderately uncomfortable as he continued, "You have, uh, feelings? For him? Right?"
Stiles felt himself start to close up- good mood from talking to his dad disappear.
"Dad, can we not talk about this? Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything about it."
Face contorting in confusion, his dad asked, "What are you talking about? Why not? It's obvious he likes you, too."
Now Stiles was confused. "Uh, Derek doesn't like me, Dad. At least not like that."
The sheriff scoffed. "Yeah right. And I don't like bacon. C'mon son, you can't be that oblivious. He's been sitting here by your side every second he's been allowed to."
Still doubting, Stiles argued, "Well, it doesn't matter either way. Nothing's ever gonna come of it."
"But why not? You know, you've never dated anyone to my knowledge. And that's okay, I'm just curious why. I know you've liked people. Why don't you ever take a chance on your feelings?"
Now, Stiles had known for years that his father didn't remember that conversation they had after his mom had died, but Stiles sure did.
"But Dad… What if Derek and I had been… together. And he got shot and died? I wouldn't be able to deal with that. "
The sheriff's face fell. "Oh, kid… Is this about your mother?"
Stiles' silence was answer enough.
His dad rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh, collecting his thoughts. "Did I ever tell you how we met?"
He had, but Stiles wasn't going to stop him from telling the story again.
"We were in high school. I had never dated anyone before, and then I met Claudia. We were sophomores at the time. I was new to the school and got lost trying to find my first period class. She was late that day and we ran into each other in the hallway, literally. She…" he broke off with a chuckle. "She was riding her skateboard through the hall. I rounded a corner and she rolled right into me. Landed hard on her arm and broke her wrist. I took her down to the nurse's office, and despite her crying and yelling at me, she was the most beautiful girl I had ever laid my eyes on.
"After that, we became inseparable. We were best friends for the rest of high school. Then I worked up the nerve to ask her to senior prom, and she just grinned at me and told me that it was about damn time.
"She said she knew I was in love with her by the way I looked at her. It was true. Our relationship didn't change all that much, honestly. Not until the summer after our first year of college. We were laying out under the stars one night, having been drinking a bit, and we were both a little tipsy. I guess that's what gave me the courage to grab a few strands of grass and tie them together into a ring. I proposed to her that night, and she said yes. It was the best night of my life, until about five years later when we had you.
"She loved you more than anything in the whole damn world, son. And so did I. Still do. The next nine years were bliss. But then… one day she just started snapping at everyone. It was the weirdest thing, because Clauds had always been the most considerate, nicest person I had ever met. Sure, she had a whip-like sense of humor and sarcasm that could rival yours, but she was never truly mean to anyone. She never even got annoyed because she said she had too much to be thankful for. But that didn't seem to matter anymore.
"Then she got diagnosed and everything went to hell. When she died… That was the worst time of my life. I didn't think I was going to survive losing her, and so I didn't even try. I completely let myself go, drinking every night, eating take out like it was all I could stomach. I ignored you. Couldn't stand to look in your eyes because they look too much like her's. Everytime I saw them it just reminded me that she was gone. I was in denial. It was the most terrible thing I could imagine.
"But then, you started cooking. And you started cleaning. And you started cutting me off after my second glass. Then you started hiding my bottles. I was so mad, but so, so proud. You saved me, Stiles. I would've wasted away if it weren't for you. And I don't think I ever thanked you for that."
They were both silently crying at that point, but neither mentioned it.
"Even though losing Claudia was the worst thing that's happened to me, having her at all was the greatest. It was worth everything that happened, getting to have those years with her. And she gave me you. And Stiles, you are biggest blessing I have ever been given. I could never regret that."
Stiles' silent tears turned into shaking sobs at that. He couldn't hold himself together, much less hold in what he was thinking. "One- one night. You were drunk and- and you told me to not fall in l-love. Y-you begged me to not put myself through what had happened to you. Y-you prayed that it wouldn't happen...
"So- so I didn't. I didn't want to risk it 'cause you were so broken up and you didn't want that to happen to me and I couldn't go against that."
The sheriff's shoulders shook with his cries and he clasped his eyes shut against the tears that were still escaping. It took him a minute to pull himself together enough to even open his eyes. He looked at his son, whose face mirrored the hopelessness and desperation he felt.
John sniffed, trying to get control over his emotions enough to tell his son what he desperately needed to hear.
"Stiles… I'm so sorry, son… I failed you. I didn't mean what I said; I was drunk and heartbroken, and I failed you. Because of what I said, you've been denying yourself the happiness you deserve, and I'm so sorry for that. No matter what happens, love is always worth it, you hear me? I swear to you; I would've taken any end to a life without you and Claudia. You guys are the greatest things that ever happened to me. You're my whole world, and I want you to have that, too, Stiles. You deserve that."
Stiles didn't know what to say, so he asked, "You think Derek could be that for me?"
"Do you think he could?"
Stiles nodded after only a moment's hesitation. "I… I love him, Dad. I'm in love with him."
John sat back, eyebrows raised. "Well. I didn't expect that quite yet, but I guess I'm not surprised. I've seen the way you two are with each other. It's actually not all that different from Clauds and I at the beginning."
"Why are you telling me all this now?
"Because, son, I want you to know that life can do terrible things, but it can also do wonderful things."
"...So what do I do now? I've never… I don't know how to deal with this, Dad." Stiles looked lost and confused, but not as sad; not as heartbroken as before. He had a spark of hope in his eye that John had never seen there before. It was beautiful, and he never wanted to see his son without it ever again.
"Take that risk. No matter what happens, it will be worth it."
"Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, and all that crap?"
The sheriff chuckled, "It's not crap. It's true, kiddo. If you don't take that chance on what could make you truly happy, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
Stiles laid back against his pillow that someone had thought to bring from his house a few days ago. He grabbed his dad's hand, squeezing it tight. "Thanks, Dad."
"Anytime, kid."
Stiles felt his eyes start to slip shut, tired from all the emotional strain he'd just been put through.
"I think I'm gonna pass out now, if that's okay."
"Well don't let me stop you. I'll see you tomorrow, son, sleep well."
Just as his dad was almost out the door, Stiles mumbled, voice heavy with tiredness, "Love you, Dad."
John looked at his son, lying safe in a hospital bed, young and in love. He smiled and whispered back, "I love you, too, Stiles. More than anything."
Stiles had already been awake for about ten minutes (and bored out of his mind) when Derek showed up in the doorway.
He was planning on taking his dad's advice and taking that risk, and was stupidly nervous. From the moment he set his eyes on Derek, his heart started beating faster with nerves. The monitor set up next to his bed betrayed his racing heart, not that that even mattered with Derek's sense of hearing.
Luckily, Derek didn't ridicule him, he just walked up to his bed and grabbed his hand like he had the other day.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as the beeping began to slow.
"Not too bad. How's life outside confinement?"
"Not too bad."
A comfortable silence settled over them as Derek continued to fiddle with Stiles' hand- a sign that he was nervous, too.
Of what, Stiles wasn't sure. But he had an idea.
"Hey, uh, can we talk?" he asked.
Derek nodded and sat down, letting go of Stiles' hand.
Well, he tried to, but Stiles quickly joined them once again, refusing to get flustered.
"So, I didn't step in front of that bullet because I thought I would have a higher chance of surviving. Or for some selfless act for others who would miss you. Or because you deserve to live and have a chance at happiness. Don't get me wrong, that's all true; I wasn't lying last night. But… none of that even occurred to me when that guy pulled out the gun."
Derek looked down at their hands and asked, "Then why? What other reason would there be?"
This was it. This was the moment Stiles had unknowingly been waiting for yet avoiding ever since he was ten years old. He cleared his throat against the rapidly forming lump, trying to figure out how to say it.
Finally, he just did.
"I did it because I didn't want to lose another person I loved."
Silence.
"Derek?"
More silence.
"Did my emotions break you?"
Some more silence.
"Well! This has been a great talk, Derek, I'm glad you stopped by and we got this cleared up."
Stiles turned his head away, trying to hide the pain undoubtedly shining in his eyes. This was a stupid idea.
Pulling his hand out of Derek's grip, he continued, "You can leave now, Derek. Sorry for bringing it up, I get it. Friend request: not accepted, so can we just forget this ever happened and go back to me annoying you and you glaring holes through my head?"
More motherfucking goddamn silence.
It had to have been at least a full minute of said silence when Stiles finally heard Derek clear his throat.
"You… You… What?"
Stiles threw his head back with a huffed out laugh. "Yes, Derek, I fucking love you, I think we established that! Can you be a fucking decent human being and not rub in your obvious disinterest/disgust/hatred/whatever the fuck it is you're feeling? Please? I feel embarrassed enough as it is, fuck you very much."
Stiles knew he was overreacting. But that was mainly over the fact that Derek hadn't reacted. Like, at all, and Stiles was feeling pretty humiliated at the moment.
"Look, sorry, but can you please just leave? Please, so I can wallow alone in my self-pity?"
"Stiles…"
"Look, I get it-"
"Stiles."
"-you don't feel the same way-"
"Stiles, can you just-"
"-so, trust me, I won't force the issue-"
"Stiles!"
"-I'm a big boy-"
"Just shut up a minute?"
"-I can take rejection, it's fine-"
"But I'm not reject-"
"So don't spare my feelings-"
"I'm not sparing anything-"
"It's a bit late for that anyway-"
"Stiles, I love you! Okay?"
And silence.
Derek sighed and slid his hand under Stiles'. "I love you, Stiles," he whispered.
"You… But… Since when?" Stiles asked, stomach churning with butterflies.
"I'm not sure… A while. I realized it last year, after I had a dream about you, before the whole Kate thing in Mexico. You were… are my anchor." Derek said all this with stunted breaks, sounding unsure of himself and clearly not used to opening up about anything feelings related.
Across Stiles' face, a grin slowly broke out, so big it made his cheeks ache.
"That was really hard for you to say, wasn't it?"
Derek started to laugh but immediately hid it behind the back of his hand. Stiles reached up and pulled his hand away, uncovering his adorable bunny teeth and blinding smile.
"Dude, we just confessed our love to each other; at least let me see you smile."
A deep blush appeared beneath Derek's beard and settled brightly on the tips of his ears.
After a few minutes of mutual blushing and bashful smiling and fiddling with each other's hands, Stiles finally asked the question.
"So, what now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like, what do we do? I've never been in a situation like this, and I'm not really sure how to go about it."
Derek nodded. "Well, I don't exactly have the best track record, so maybe this can be a new thing for both us."
"Yeah," Stiles smiled. "I'd like that."
Thanks for reading! Please leave your thoughts :)