Sometimes it really does start like that- with someone simply needing you.
Derek supposed it might have started that day in the locker room. He'd decided to drop by the high school to make sure everything was fine. When the 'end of period' bell sounded he made for the locker rooms. He could usually count on running into Stiles there if it was between classes.
He was surprised on that particular day when his werewolf hearing registered a pained sob. Was Stiles in the locker room crying?
He wasn't sure what had made him run. Maybe he just simply hated the thought of Stiles crying. He missed the obnoxious Stiles who could laugh and spin witty sarcasms.
The sobbing had become sniffles by the time he reached his destination.
"Oh Derek," Stiles feigned surprise, cool composure already in place as he gave his moist eyes a wipe. "What's up?"
"Were you crying?"
"No!" the teen exclaimed, folding his arms defensively. "Don't be silly Derek... "
"Stiles," he'd said simply, voice a little sad. "It'd be alright if you were, you know. You don't always need to be strong."
Derek recalled the boy's glance as initially accusatory, but suddenly his face had fallen and all he remembered was the sudden burst emotion in his chest. He'd ran forward to catch Stiles- to cradle the shaking, sobbing bundle of emotions he still remembered protecting in his arms.
Maybe it was then he'd first felt love for Stiles. In hindsight, it was probably before that. Their relationship had always been slightly confusing.
Whatever the case, it had most definitely become a thing- Derek going to check on him every night. It was probably borderline stalker.
He'd wait until one or two in the morning, an hour he was sure Stiles was asleep by, before heading off.
Sometimes Stiles wasn't asleep and Derek had to be especially careful. He didn't want to be caught being a stalker...
It was things Stiles did at these ungodly hours of the night that made him feel even more needed- though it might be more accurate to say didn't do.
The boy never smiled, or laughed at some private thought as Derek had seen him do nights before the Nogitsune. This Stiles was forlorn and sulky. Where was his teenage joker he'd grown so reluctantly attached to?
Stiles never caught him at his nightly peeping through the window, nor did he catch him slipping in sometimes when he was asleep.
Derek kept telling himself it was just to see how Stiles was sleeping. It was finding it in himself to leave that was the trick. Sometimes he'd simply stare and listen to Stiles's breathing for hours. He would let himself fall into that breathing, into the delicate pitter-patter of the teen's heart coupled with his unique scent. That scent seemed to fill Derek up- he craved it.
So there he was again- outside the boy's window, trying to muster the courage to slip in.
It was need for closeness to Stiles, need for that scent and the steady beating of his human heart that finally prompted Derek to push up the window.
The slightest of sqeaks was heard as the window gave way, but Stiles didn't stir. He never did.
Derek soon found himself unable to pull his eyes away from the teenage body stretched out on the bed, the object of his secret desire- clad only in pajamas and a loose fitting white tee.
His heart jumped nearly up his throat when whiskey eyes locked with his. Stiles hadn't been sleeping after all!
The boy only smirked slightly and clicked on the bedside lamp
"Let's see," he spoke playfully. "Fifth night this week, if I recall... "
"Stiles I am so sorry. I only wanted... "
"Its alright Derek," Stiles chuckled. "I get it. I'm actually flattered."
Derek's expression screwed up in sudden confusion. Stiles was... flattered?
"About you watching over me and everything," the boy clarified. "Honestly I'm alright."
"No you aren't," Derek spoke in a kind of low growl. "I see you almost every night."
The teen's face fell. He looked suddenly cornered and vulnerable.
"You have to stop acting strong all the time," Derek pressed on. "Its alright to be weak."
"Why?" Stiles snorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. "So you can pity me? Hold me? Defenseless, human Stiles? Is that what you want Derek?"
"No," Derek almost whispered, trying to convey the truth in his eyes.
He stepped closer to the bed and Stiles stood to meet him, almost challengingly. Their eyes met again until their gazes relented, seeming to soften in an ocean of unspoken feelings.
Stiles drew in breath when Derek's hand rested on his shoulder.
"You're so wrong about me," Derek said with a gentleness Stiles would never have associated with him in a million years. "I know you're not weak. I watched you fight him, all the time scared I'd lose you. I wouldn't tell Chris he was right. I couldn't... "
Derek paused and inhaled for courage.
"I don't want you to need me," he whispered. "I need you to want me."
Derek watched Stiles's mouth fall slightly open in that adorable way of his, observed the sudden quiver of the teen's lips as he obviously tried to find the words.
"I do want you," Stiles whispered, hand shakingly moving up to find Derek's stubbled face. "I want you and need you."
Derek barely registered the lips suddenly on his. He tried to return Stiles's fervor, the dance of their kiss slowly building. Something quickened in him at the thought this was his Stiles, who he hadn't lost.
His arms seemed to embrace the teen's lanky frame of their own accord, noting one of the boy's hands cupping the nape of his neck.
This felt right. This felt like where he belonged- like mates.