Of Wants And Needs
It was a cold night out and the moon was full tonight. Stiles sat in his jeep outside the Hale house tapping on the steering wheel. He was nervous, he knew he was, about what was going to happen, about whatever has already happened and what could happen if he messed up. He sighed and looked at the dark house. This is stupid, he thought to himself, you're Stiles Stilinski, you're a hot piece of ass and… and… gah, screw it! He turned on the engine and drove back home.
In his house, he laid on his bed, staring at his ceiling where the trees outside cast shadows into his room. What the hell was I thinking, he thought and turned over to his side, a solitary tear creeping down the nook of his nose, Derek will never love me. It was futile feeling that he was feeling and he knew it. Derek had that lady… what was her name… Katherine? Kate? whatever it was, she was with him once, which pretty much spoke for his preference by itself.
Another tear joined the one that slid down his nose and Stiles sighed before closing his eyes and praying to god that tonight he would be able to sleep. But like most nights, sleep barely came to him.
In the morning, when he was afforded with just an hour or two of sleep, his alarm rang and he got up tiredly from his bed. He leaned into his hands and wiped the dried tear tracks from his eyes. Another day, another sunrise… another morning, he thought and squinted into the morning light filtering into his room. As far as he was concerned, it was just a cold, empty room, meaningless light to make the demons of the night run away.
In the shower, he stood under ice cold water, letting the water shock his body into movement. It was so cold that it burned his skin, but he didn't care, he didn't care about a lot of things right now and what's a little cold burns anyway. Derek… he thought and closed his eyes, remembering a smile, a laugh, a look in his direction and his heart felt like it was about to be ripped out of his chest. Stiles suddenly felt sick and barely made it to the toilet before his dinner made a reappearance.
After he washed his mouth and brushed his teeth again, he looked in the mirror and all he saw was a warped version of himself, thousands of words peppering his skin, covering his freckles and blackening his skin. He will never love. Worthless. Monster. Nothing. You mean nothing. He loves her. He loves her. Her. Her. Her. Her. Her. Herherherherherherherherher… on and on and on. Keep yourself together, Stiles, he told himself and turned away from the mirror.
He changed quickly and practically ran out of his house, ignoring his father and everything around him. All he needed was the safety of his jeep. The familiar smells and the worn in seat; everything about the jeep invited him in, the only thing that would keep him safe from his demons.
Stiles drove to school listening to The xx. Somehow they seemed to know what he was going through and their music calmed his thoughts down a little. Ah, what he would do without music he would never know. But once he got to the school parking lot, his heart faltered a little when he saw the trees near the lots and remembered that it was in the middle of those trees that he had seen Derek for the first time, staring at Scott, but for a millisecond, just a moment in time, he had glanced at Stiles and Stiles had fallen harder than he would ever say.
Stiles saw Scott pulling into the parking lot on his bicycle and looked down at the steering wheel. Scott knew that Stiles wanted Derek. Scott knew from the moment he saw Stiles' face when Derek had approached Scott in school. But he also knew about Kate and the time that she and Derek had together. So as he parked his bike and saw his best friend in the world looking like he was going to collapse at any moment, sitting in his jeep staring off into space, he couldn't help but feel a little angry at Derek for luring Stiles without even realizing it.
Scott walked up to the jeep and saw that the doors were unlocked. Slowly he opened the door of the jeep and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Stiles?" he said softly and Stiles looked at him, his train of thought coming to a halt and he smiled at Scott. "Hey wolfboy," Stiles said jokingly, albeit like his throat was made out of sandpaper. Scott smiled and stepped back as Stiles detached himself from the seat of his car and grabbed his backpack.
"So, what mayhem are we causing today?" Stiles said, smiling at Scott as they headed for class and Scott smirked back. "Well, Allison and I actually have plans for tonight because uh… it's our one year anniversary today," Scott said and Stiles nudged him with him shoulder. "Well look who's all grown up and one year's old," Stiles said and Scott laughed and nudged him back. "I'm taking her to this restaurant in the city and I even rented a suit for the night," Scott said and Stiles shook his head. "I never took you for the sappy romantic," he said and Scott laughed, but his smile faltered a little.
"How're you doing, Stiles?" Scott asked and suddenly Stiles looked tired. Not just emotionally, but physically, like he had aged ten years in the last ten seconds. "I'm okay," Stiles said and smiled at Scott, "I'm alright." Scott could smell the sadness in Stiles, the weight of his emotions perforating from Stiles like a smokescreen. He knew Stiles was very much not alright, but there wasn't anything much Scott could do short of a miracle that could help Stiles.
"Okay," Scott said and instinctively put his arms around Stiles, hugging him close to his body. Stiles hugged Scott back, thankful for the physical contact that he craved so much; the contact that he needed but went unnoticed by many. Stiles hugged Scott back, tears threatening him, but he didn't care.
"Get a room," someone said and Scott looked up as Stiles tightened his grip around Stiles back. "Get a life," Scott said back and carefully walked down the hall with Stiles still partially holding on. "It'll be okay," Scott said under his breath, "It's going to be okay, you hear me, Stiles, everything will be okay." "Okay," Stiles whispered back, but he didn't even believe himself.
School, classes, lunch, classes, homework, the mundane, the usual, the completely pointless. Everything passed Stiles by like they were birds taking to the sky. He went through the movements of the day answering questions vaguely, apologizing for saying the wrong thing and dodging glances from his friends in the hallways. It was how he protected himself from the thoughts. How one simple object, or a word, a phrase or the way the light hit something would bring back a memory or a conversation. It hurt him each time and each time he felt as though he would never be able to feel happy again.
It was the same thing when he went back home after school, but this time there wasn't the buffer of conversation noise, there wasn't any friends, there weren't other things to take off his mind. Stiles knew that him being alone was a bad idea, but he just couldn't stand being around people.
So there Stiles sat, under his window, staring outside, alone in his room in the fading evening light. He rest his head on the windowsill and looked at the setting sun, throwing all the clouds into a colourful dance of shapes and lines. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed in the autumn air, the smell of fallen leaves and drying bark.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Derek standing next to the tree outside his window, looking up at him. "Stiles," he said and Stiles lifted his head from the windowsill. "Derek?" he said, confused, "What're you doing here?" Derek glanced around and looked up at Stiles again. "Stiles, I need your help," he said and Stiles got up from where he was sitting. "What's wrong?" he asked, but Derek shook his head and looked around again. "Not here," he said and gestured with his head to the direction of the forest. The house, Stiles thought to himself and nodded. Derek left and Stiles grabbed his jacket, throwing it on and flying out the door.
Stiles ran to the house, but when he neared it, he stopped and a confused look crossed his face. "What… the hell," he said and Derek smirked at him from where he was standing. There was a picnic set up, wine, sandwiches and fruit, candles for when it gets dark and blankets for two. For Kate, Stiles thought and his hope deflated a little. Stupidstupidstupidstupidstup idstupid, he thought as he smirked and laughed. "You need me to be your butler or something, Derek?" he said smiling, "Am I getting paid?"
Derek laughed and shook his head. "No, you idiot," he said, "This is for us." Stiles did a double take. "I… I'm sorry what?" he said and Derek walked up to him and put two fingers under Stiles chin and made him look up. "It's for us, Stiles, for you," he said and Stiles couldn't do anything but smile at Derek. "For real?" he asked and Derek smiled down at him and nodded.
Derek took Stiles' hand and led him to the where there was a huge blanket spread out to accommodate the both of them and made Stiles sit down on one side and Derek settled in next to him. "Why're we doing Shakespeare in the park again?" Stiles asked and Derek smirked as he popped open a bottle of wine. "Because I want to do this for you and because you deserve a night off too," he said and offered Stiles a glass of wine which Stiles accepted. "To you, Stiles," Derek said, raising his glass, "Without you, we would've never made it this far."
Stiles smiled and his cheeks coloured a little as he drank the wine and even he had to admit that the wine was amazing. Derek had good taste. "Mmm, good taste," Stiles said and Derek smirked at him before offering him a sandwich which turned out to be Stiles' favourite: balogne and bacon with cheese. From Stiles' expression of pure ecstasy, Derek knew he had done good and after Stiles had downed his sandwich, Derek slowly reached out and touched Stiles' shoulder.
Stiles froze a little at the touch and looked at Derek. "What're you doing?" he asked, but Derek just smiled and gently tugged Stiles down to lie on his lap while he slowly fed Stiles grapes and they watched the stars come out, each pinpoint bright as a torch. Stiles had to get up after a while so that Derek could light the candles around them and when he came back to sit down, he opened the blankets and snuggled into one. Stiles looked down at Derek with one of his arms tucked under his head, the other stretched out along the blanket, inviting Stiles to lie there, but he didn't.
Stiles wasn't too sure what was happening, but he was loving what had happened so far. But he wasn't going to push it with Derek. He knew that there was only so many things Derek would do, so Stiles didn't push anything. But he heard the sound of fabric moving and felt strong hands circle his stomach and felt a stubbly chin on his shoulder. "Are you going to lay with me or am I going to have to lie there alone?" Derek asked softly and Stiles closed his eyes, calming his heart that was pumping way too fast. Derek could surely hear it, but he didn't point it out, which was a good thing. "Y-Yeah," Stiles choked out and allowed himself to be pulled down with Derek.
Derek was warm, but Stiles kept his arms to himself, awkwardly lying there as he felt Derek's arm circle his shoulder protectively. They looked up at the stars for a while, but then Stiles felt Derek's other hand slowly reaching over and twining his fingers in Stiles' hand. Stiles looked down at their hands and Derek brought it up to his face and kissed the back of Stiles hand. "Derek?" Stiles whispered and Derek looked down at Stiles. Stiles turned his body so his head was resting on Derek's chest, but let his fingers stay twined with Derek's, "Why are you doing this?"
Derek looked down at him, his blue eyes like ale on fire in the light of the candles. "I love you, Stiles, that's why," he said and at the moment Derek's lips touched Stiles' lips, he opened his eyes and looked around.
Stiles was still in his room, now night time and everything was dark. He looked outside at the tree, but there was nobody standing there and turned away from the window, bringing his knees up to hug and staring at his room door. Silent tears began to pour from his eyes and he closed them. "Come back…" he said to himself, willing for the dream to return.
"…Come back…"
