There was a time in Stiles' life where he was perfectly happy.
To be exact it was about 2 years and 6 months ago from today where everything was fine. Just fine. His mom was alive, healthy, his dad was sheriff, his best friend wasn't a werewolf, and his unattainable crush was intact.
But then there were doctor's visits, hushed conversations between his parents, and next thing he knew he was spending most his days at his mother's bedside as she lay there dying.
Its days like today when he wonders how he got to this point in his life. How he went from being a perfectly normal teenager with normal teenage problems, to a kid without a mother and pack of werewolves for friends.
Today, he wonders why it had to be him. His mom always told him he'd be special. That he was made for greatness. He had just told his mom that she'd been watching too many superhero movies with him.
But as he sits, back pressed against cool stone, legs stretched across damp grass, he starts to believe her. That maybe, just maybe, she was right all along. That he was meant for something more than being the sheriff's kid who couldn't keep his mouth shut.
'You'll find your niche, honey, trust me. You'll find someone to make you happy.'
'Like Dad does for you?'
She smiled. 'Yes. Just like Dad does for me'
She had died three days after that conversation. They had other talks after that one, sure, but that particular conversation stuck out from the rest.
Maybe it was because her eyes had lit up like they used to, or her smile nearly reached her eyes that time, or maybe it had to do with the fact that she was holding Stiles' hand. A silent promise to always be watching over him.
And he knew she was still watching. She had to be. If he could believe in werewolves and kanimas then he could believe in the afterlife. In angels. He'd like to think that's what happened to his mom. That she became an angel.
He sits and thinks about the good times they had, the bad. The days they spent all day out in the snow, or curled on the couch together watching a movie. The words that she shared with him, the looks, the gentle touches.
He wishes that she could be here now to meet the pack. She'd love them. She'd be ecstatic that Scotty finally found himself a girlfriend, that he made amends with Lydia and became her best friend; she'd even love the crazy trio of pups that had entered his life not too long ago.
She'd love Derek the most though. She'd try to make him smile like Stiles does, have him over for dinner, scold his father whenever he judged Derek. And then she'd give Stiles this look, the one that she used to give to him when she was proud of him for something.
She'd give him that look that said 'I love you, honey, Derek too'.
Stiles sighs, feeling a small smile when he sees the presence walking towards him. He sits down next to Stiles, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and nuzzling a kiss into his hair.
"You okay?" Derek asks.
And Stiles smiles, just like his mom used to, and kisses Derek's lips gently. He sees the ghost of Derek's smile before nudging his head under the older mans, sighing contently when he's pulled into a hug.
He remembers what it's like to be perfectly happy. What it was like before. And really, this is pretty damn close.