Disclaimer: Teen Wolf and its characters/plot are in no way mine.
It was a complete accident that Stiles found the box. Alright, he might have been snooping. But, he most definitely didn't mean to find anything like this.
He had been hoping for some prime blackmail material, or maybe something to bond over. Like 'Humor for Dummies' or a copy of the latest Star Trek movie.
Certainly not this.
So, when Stiles found the small wooden box tucked between the nasty, sooty mattress and the wall, he felt obligated to open it and find out what Derek had kept secret. He sucked in a breath though, when he lifted the delicately carved top and realized what the box was.
Recognized it because he had almost the exact same thing tucked into his sock drawer. Not the same box, of course, but…what it held.
His fingers skittered over a scrap of fabric – bright blue with charred-black edges – and a piece of a photo that showed three smiling faces. He pushed that aside gently and stared at the curled-up, melted remnant of what was probably once a driver's license or credit card sticking out of the part of a leather wallet.
There was a small doll tucked into the bottom corner of the box, with black hair and a little pink dress that looked hand-sewn and completely untouched by fire. Stiles turned it slightly, seeing the incredibly awkward stitches and he knew, with the utmost certainty, that Derek must have added that himself.
At the very bottom, beneath everything, names were scratched into the wood – birthdays and favorite colors and foods and movies were etched along under them. The desperate recording of such delicate memories.
Stiles slowly eased the box shut, guilty suddenly swamping him for invading such a private thing. He was placing the little wooden box back where he found it when he noticed a figure out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh my god!" he shouted, glancing between Derek and the box quickly. He dropped it onto the mattress and raised his hands, scrambling back until his back was to the wall. "I am so sorry!" he started, "I didn't realize what that would be and, please don't kill me, I didn't mean to invade or anything and – "
Stiles stopped for a breath and noticed Derek hadn't moved from the doorway. He wasn't even looking at Stiles – his eyes were fixed on the box. "I'm…" Stiles began again, "Just gonna go, I think?" He eased himself up off the ground and clung to the wall as he started shuffling towards the stairs.
Derek's head swiveled to track his movements and he growled out, "Stop."
Freezing in place, eyes squeezed so tightly shut it hurt, Stiles braced himself for a pounding.
He heard Derek huff out a breath and then listened as the man moved about the room. When he peeked his eyes open again, Stiles slammed his head against the wall in surprise as he realized Derek was standing just before him, box in hand.
Derek was staring at it again, thumb rubbing against one of the carved whorls on the top surface. "Laura," he started, voice cracking slightly on the name, "Laura made this."
When his eyes met Stiles', they weren't red at all, as Stiles had been expecting. He didn't even look as angry or grumpy as he usually did. Stiles swallowed and nodded his head quickly, trying to subtly press his spine through the wall and maybe propel himself in the ground outside.
"It's all we had of them in New York," Derek continued, staring at the box as if it contained all the secrets of the universe and beyond.
Clearing his throat, Stiles replied, "It-it's beautiful." When Derek's eyes flashed back up to his, he nodded quickly. "I have something with, uh, with some of my, my mom's stuff. It's not nearly…not nearly as pretty."
Derek remained silent, eyes boring into Stiles for breathless moments before he turned his head away slightly and took a step back. Stiles released a tightly-held breath and offered Derek a small smile when the older man glanced at him again.
His thumb was still stroking the wood when Derek turned back towards his mattress. "I don't look at it often," he was saying now, sounding almost defensive to Stiles. "Just," he paused for a long moment, crouching down beside the mattress.
"Just when it's too quiet?" Stiles finished, relaxing his shoulders down before his back cramped.
Derek didn't look at him when he took a small step forward, and then another. When Stiles was standing right behind him, Derek huffed again and said, voice soft and small, "They're the only things that still carry their scent."
Stiles' hands twitched at his sides, wanting to reach out and, and offer comfort. He decided a hand on the shoulder would be safer than a hug and touched Derek lightly. The touch still made him twitch however, but, when Derek didn't growl or shove his hand off, Stiles left it there.
He could feel muscles twitching under his hand lightly and he was sure his palm was clammy and sweaty over Derek's shirt, but Stiles left his hand there and kept his mouth shut for as long as he could.
He tried not to stare when Derek opened the lid just a crack and breathed deeply, nostrils flaring and eyes closed. He pretended not to notice the bare hint of a smile that crossed over Derek's lips, or the way he swallowed roughly when he latched the box shut again.
"Your scent is in there, too, now," Derek commented as he leaned forward and placed the box back in its place. Stiles let his hand fall from Derek's shoulder and pressed his lips tightly together.
"Sorry," he offered, uncertain.
The eyes that met his carried a little less of the shadows they normally did and Derek shrugged. "It's not bad."
Skittering back a few steps, Stiles nodded and turned to race up the stairs. He stopped half-way up, where he could still see Derek crouched by the mattress and, taking a deep breath, he said, "I can help you look around the house for more stuff."
Derek said nothing, merely stared at him with slightly narrowed eyes before he gave a slight nod in reply and Stiles tripped his way the rest of the way up.
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