Derek had always known that Stiles was going to do the whole "leaving for college" thing. He was smart, like, scarily smart in a way that made Derek insecure about his intelligence. Which to be honest, he wasn't that shaky about. He had gone to college, gotten a bachelor's degree, it took a fair bit to make him feel stupid.

Stiles did it easily. As a sophomore in high school.

He was prepared for the day he was going to leave, he readied himself. Separated himself a little more than he originally had. Talked to him less, consulted him less, and asked him to research well… you catch my drift. He readied himself for the year that he would have to muster without Stiles and his brain. Which meant he relied more heavily on Peter, which was something he didn't nessacaraly like, but it was less painful than getting more attached to Stiles when he was already oddly co-dependent.

What Derek hadn't prepared himself for, was Stiles' return to Beacon Hills from his fancy school in New York. Sure he thought about it sometimes, Stiles coming home. But it was always his Stiles, the same Stiles he had known since he was 16. He wasn't prepared for the Stiles that he got.

Not that he didn't like it, god did he ever. But, wow… he was really not expecting that.

He was still thin, tall and lean with lithe muscle evident under the skin tight cloth that hugged his body, problem was that was about the only thing that managed to stay the same about him.

If he hadn't been a werewolf he wouldn't have recognized him, the deep underlying smell of sandalwood and cinnamon, sweet and spicy and so, Stiles.

But this kid… this kid had a sly smile, not the same one Stiles had—more, appealing.

It took Derek a moment to speak, to acknowledge his presence, still trying to catalogue the ink that now covered the pale expanses of Stiles' skin. They were beautiful, the sleeves. Uncolored, simple, black and the white of Stiles' skin. He couldn't tell but he assumed they had meanings, he couldn't imagine Stiles doing anything without meaning.

"Like what you see sourwolf?" Stiles—or the kid impersonating Stiles, Derek wasn't 100% sold on the idea that this was actually the smart, loyal virgin child he had watched pack his bags for school less than 10 months earlier. He was walking closer, away from the crowd of people that were dwindling slowly. A welcome party he wasn't even sure he should show up to, but he was glad he did.

He should have responded.

Something snarky and sarcastic that would make Stiles laugh it off.

But he couldn't, his eyes were locked on the small piece of metal that had imbedded itself into Stiles' tongue. Never in his life had he wanted to be a piece of metal as much as he did right at that moment.

"yeah." He said without really thinking about his actions, because he did. Up close it was even better. Stiles had grown his hair out, no longer the awkward buzz cut that had made him want to run his hand over his head, but instead a messy tousled mop of hair that made him want to bury his fingers in it and pull Stiles closer.

Which he didn't do.

Because he had self-restraint.

And because Stiles was leaving again at the end of the summer and he wasn't going to do that to himself, He couldn't handle starting something that was going to end so soon. If he was going to admit his feelings for Stiles, he was going to do it when he could keep him.

Which he probably hadn't helped by just admitting that yes he did indeed really like what he saw.

Because Stiles was grinning at him, and running his hand through his hair, and damn. That was hot.

"It's good to see you sourwolf." Stiles laughed and Derek nodded. "I missed you dude, you could have called."

"I figured you'd be busy." Derek offered.

"I'm never too busy for you dude."

Derek chose to ignore that one, and the way it made his heart beat a little too fast in his chest. "I told you to quit calling me dude."

Stiles snickered, "oh, is that still a thing because I could totally find a new nickname for you." He said pushing the ball of his piercing between his teeth and pulling back on it lightly.

This was obviously a new kind of torture designed only for him. Slow suffocation by sexual frustration.

"How about Baby, can I call you baby Derek? Would you like that?" Stiles said flirtatiously.

What the hell was going on?

Stiles didn't flirt.

Okay well he did, but he wasn't good at it. It never made his heart do this many back flips before. Sure it had always been there, this—thing between them. But they didn't acknowledge it. It was like an unspoken rule. You don't talk about fight club kind of rule.

You don't talk about the unresolved sexual tension between you and another dude unless you're intending to do something about it.

Did that mean Stiles was intending to do something about it?

Derek tried to laugh it off, "Anything's better than Dude."

"Even sourwolf" Stiles prompted.

Derek tried not to cringe, it didn't work very well. "Even Sourwolf."

Stiles smirked at him, "Alright—Baby, whatever floats your boat."

Derek wasn't sure if he wanted to punch him, or kiss him.

He settled on neither.

"So…" he said gesturing to Stiles' arms. "Is there a story?"

Stiles' face grew serious. "Yeah, uh, there's a thing. I mean for everyone. They're all like a huge part of my life so they're all on here. There's my dad uh—up here with the sheriff's badge." He said pointing to one section of his sleeve where a sheriff's badge laid in the crook of his elbow, "and uh my mom's right next to him, she loved books, Alice and wonderland was her favorite so—"

Derek smiled at the little "Drink Me" bottle that sat beside the Sheriff's badge.

"And there's Scott, He said drawing Derek's attention to his other arm where there was a date written in script lettering, "that was the day we met." Stiles explained, "And Lydia." He said pointing to the almost self-explanatory picture of the wailing woman that took up a good portion of his arm. "And Isaac's uh—over here," he said pointing to the lettering that was on his forearm, "It's a poem he wrote me when we were – uh back in high school."

Derek nodded at each of the explanations. "And there's Erica, and Boyd." He said displaying his wrists where the words "The brightest flames, fade the fastest, and are missed the most." Were scrawled.

That one hit like a double decker bus, but Derek just nodded.

"They're beautiful." He said noting, not surprisingly that Stiles lacked a tattoo that represented Derek himself. Probably because, outside of Derek's head their relationship was nothing.

Based on mutually saving each other's lives before screaming in each other's faces about something or another. Derek—Derek had created the fantasy that maybe Stiles had returned his feelings. Which he saw now, was not the case.

Stiles smiled at him, fingers fidgeting with the bottom of his tight black tee shirt. "I—Uh—I have one more if you want to see it."

And Derek nodded, because he didn't really have words to say at the moment. He was sure it was probably one for Cora, or someone he had met while he was in school. Someone important, someone who deserved a permenite place on Stiles' skin. In Stiles' life.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the fact that Stiles was pulling his shirt off. Like actually taking his shirt off, right then and there, and maybe he had been a little wrong about the lithe muscles because there were hints of so much more there and he just wanted to take it all in but he couldn't do that.

Not while he was staring at the wolf with glowing red eyes that had taken up residence right over Stiles' – heart.

Dammit right over his heart.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean anyway.

"Is – is that?" Derek started.

"You?" Stiles asked, sheepishly holding his tee shirt in his hand, "Yeah."

Derek stood there dumbfounded.

"Scott—he told me not to get it. That I'd regret it if you didn't end up feeling the same way about me. But—uh, I knew. I knew that I wouldn't because even if you didn't—even if you don't. It's still important; it's still a huge part of who I am. You, and this, and everything that came from it." He said smiling down at his chest, "so yeah."

Derek nodded again, taking a breath. "Stiles."

Stiles' attention was drawn back to him, and god, he had missed those honey eyes. "Yeah?"

"How far away is new York?"

"2,580 miles give or take." He said shrugging. "Not that it matters, I uh—Transferred to Berkley. Much closer. "

Derek grinned, "Thank fucking god" he said grabbing Stiles' wrist and yanking him forward.

Lips clashing harshly, blunt teeth pulling at spit slicked lips. Derek swore his heart was going to beat out of his chest because he honestly couldn't remember the last time he felt this happy. His tongue delved into Stiles' mouth. Chasing the torturous piercing that caused him so much frustration, the cool taste of metal on his tongue and the feeling of his hands tight in Stiles' hair was almost too much.

When he finally let go, he didn't step back. Forehead resting against Stiles', cheeks flushed, grin still present on his face.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that." Stiles muttered.

"Four Years." Derek replied. "I've been waiting four years to do that, and if you hadn't gone and covered yourself in all this, and taunted me with that freaking ridiculous piercing I might have held out for another four."

"Derek Hale are you telling me you just want me for my body?" Stiles said faking surprise. "I am scandalized."

Derek smiled, "I love you." He said, "And not just for your body—which I do appreciate and will continue to appreciate. But all of you."

Stiles smirked, "I know – Baby, I love you too."

Derek kissed him.

Short and sweet and when he pulled away Stiles laughed.

"Four more years my ass." He muttered, "You want me so bad."

Derek chuckled because Stiles… well he wasn't wrong.