Author's Note: This is my first time writing Stiles/Derek and I have to say, I'm quite happy with the way it turned out. Let me know what you think!
"Dad," Stiles greeted when he saw a light shining in the dinning room. "I thought you'd still be at the Station."
His dad put down his scotch, glanced at his wrist-watch, and narrowed his eyes at his son. "If I recall correctly, there's a strict nine-thirty curfew."
Stiles scratched the back of his head. "Uh, yeah. About that." His father glowered at him. "You see," Stiles continued awkwardly, "there was this thing that I had to take care of."
"Uh huh," his dad drew out slowly. "And this thing couldn't wait until a more appropriate time?"
"Yeah," Stiles laughed nervously. "I don't think there would ever have been an appropriate time for it," he finished under his breath.
His dad stared at him before looking back at his work. "I don't think I want to know." He sighed. "Just go upstairs and get some rest, kid."
"Yeah, sure. Good night," Stiles said. His dad waved him off, too distracted by the heap of open files scattered across the table.
It was the same routine every night. His dad would be hard at work, Stiles would do or say something that irritated him, and then his dad would tell him to go to bed. Stiles never went out of his way to annoy him, it just sort of happened. Just like getting stuck with a brooding, scary-as-all-hell, dying werewolf just sort of happened.
Stiles closed his bedroom door and stripped off his jacket. He flicked on his desktop lamp and turned around.
"Oh, what the hell!" Stiles fumbled, tripping over his desk chair and landing flat on his ass.
"Would you be quiet?" Derek barked, as if lurking in his room was a natural occurrence that shouldn't scare the living daylights out of him.
"Stiles?" came a voice from the other side of the door. "What happened now?"
Derek glared at Stiles and mouthed something he couldn't understand. "N-nothing," Stiles answered, scrambling to his feet. "Just me being my clumsy, uncoordinated self."
"Are you sure you didn't break anything again?"
"Yeah," Stiles replied quickly. "Everything's fine in here!" Stiles held his breath, listening for his dad's footsteps. Derek was giving him an incredulous look.
Stiles collapsed onto his bed, letting out a big puff of air. "You do realize that you're insane, right?" He stared at Derek, fighting the ever-so-powerful urge to jump across the room and strangle him.
Derek didn't even flinch, just glared.
"Haven't we spent enough quality time together today?" Stiles sat up straight, adjusting his shirt.
Derek rolled his eyes. "Look, I just wanted to say thank you."
Stiles laughed in disbelief. "Since when are you the kind of guy that says thank you for anything?"
Derek's chest visibly rose and fell with every breath he took. It was hard not to notice with his big shoulders and all. Derek shook his head. "I knew I shouldn't have come here."
"Come on, wait," Stiles crossed the room and grabbed his arm. He let go promptly when Derek glared at his hand on him. "Whoa, sorry." Okay, so maybe Derek still scared him.
Stiles cleared his throat. "I just didn't exactly expect you to be in my room when I came home."
"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly think I'd be here, either," Derek agreed. Stiles nodded and glanced around awkwardly, so Derek continued. "No one other than my family would have done that for me."
The corner of Stiles' lips turned up into a sad, knowing smile. "That's me, werewolf's best friend."
Derek opened his mouth to say something but he didn't. He settled for a curt nod.
Stiles scratched the top of his head - a nervous habit of his. "But, yeah, you're welcome."
Stiles realized that they were standing close to one another. He could feel Derek's hot breath on his nose. He made the mistake of looking up into Derek's eyes. He looked so tortured, and in that moment, all Stiles wanted to do was ask him to stay.
Derek cleared his throat. "I should go."
"Y-yeah," Stiles jumped back. Could Derek had read minds, too? "Yeah, um, sure."
They shared one last look before Derek disappeared through Stiles' window, completely out of sight.
Stiles put his hand over his chest; his heart still pouding, but this time for a different reason. Stupid, scary, but not-all-that-bad in a really tortured-soul kind of way, Derek Hale.