They meet when they are 5 and 8 years old. It was arranged in part to allow their parents to socialize and in part to, hopefully, give them a chance at friendship. Stiles isn't a fan of personal space or playing with one thing for long and Derek is either scent marking or maintaining a minimum 3-foot distance from others; neither had made many friends, shockingly.
Claudia and John are merely making their rounds, Stiles clinging to Claudia's dress, at a barbeque most of the town had been invited to when they bump into the Hales. Talia is laughing uproariously at something their neighbor had said while her husband grins into his red solo cup. A young boy is sitting behind the group, pouting at a half-finished hotdog.
"Talia! It's been awhile hasn't it? How are you?" Claudia gushes, smile sincere and wide. She holds out her arms for a hug that Talia gives with enthusiasm.
John sidles up to Joseph and the neighbor, Alejandro, nodding his head to both in greeting while asking, "Heard anything more about that mountain lion next county over?"
The adults aren't talking for too long before Stiles is bored out his mind. He thinks about giving another minute for his mom and dad to move on but rejects it almost instantly. They would've left by then if it was just another meet and greet. With nothing to hold his attention, he darts his head around trying to find something or someone to play with.
His eyes land on the dark haired boy like a homing missile and he eagerly rushes to meet someone under the age of 30. Derek never stood a chance against the exuberant kindergartener.
"I don't like him," Derek growls as he stomps past his parents and climbs into the car. Joseph and Talia smirk at each other, waving at those they hadn't had a chance to properly say goodbye to. Though they are leaving early, no one bats an eye. The Hales come and go as they please, often plowing through social niceties with blunt statements and leaving new acquaintances completely bewildered; they are very much like tornados in that respect.
"He seemed to like you," Joseph says in an innocent tone. He starts the engine, glancing back to check Derek put on his seat belt and to see the reaction to his comment. The glare is well worth it to see a slight blush on the boy's face.
"Whatever" is the only response he gets and is the last thing Derek says for the rest of the ride.
It's late, the sun having set a few hours ago, and the party has started to ebb with people leaving to prepare for bed. Toddlers hang limply from their parents' arms, most covered in an amalgam of food, dirt, and sweat as older kids drag their feet and yawn widely. Some fight their tiredness viciously, wanting to stay up like the grown ups. Stiles is one of them.
"He's my best friend! His name's Derek and he didn't say much but he's really cool! He's 8 and in third grade and has two sisters and I told him all about my Pokemon cards and Star Wars, cuz he said he hasn't watched them, and I told him we can watch it at my house because it's really cool and Han Solo is the coolest guy in the whole universe! I don't think he likes to play games but that's okay because I know a lot of games and maybe he'll like one of them and then we can play it together or maybe he can show me a game that I don't know and then I'll know even more games! This is so cool!" Stiles rambles on about the coolness of having a new best friend for a little longer, yawns and heavy blinks interrupting ever so often. Claudia and John exchange secretive smiles and nod at the appropriate moments until they get back home.
When Stiles is finally tucked into bed, Claudia gently brushes her hand against his cheek and tells him, "I'm so glad you had fun, baby boy. Would you like it if I make a play date for you and Derek? You might be able to meet his sisters." She grins and leans in. "They might even be as cool as Derek."
Stiles scrunches up his face, chubby cheeks puffed in indignation. "No way! Derek's the coolest!"
She shrugs, trying not to laugh. "Alright, kiddo, get some sleep and I'll see what I can do, okay? I love you, honey."
"I love you too, Mommy!" Stiles gives a big, gap toothed grin. He falls asleep to happy thoughts of Derek and his (probably less cool, but still pretty cool) sisters.
Stiles and his mother appear at the Hale house and Stiles is instantly searching for Derek, waving his Pokemon cards and flashing big amber eyes at everything. Derek is in the living room, slouched on the couch with a disgruntled frown. Everything about his posture screams that he would rather be anywhere else. Stiles doesn't get to meet Derek's sisters, though he doesn't let that phase him. He does meet "Uncle Peter," the teen sitting regally in a recliner and staring at the television.
Stiles's first words to him are: "You're not an uncle, you're too young to be an uncle! All my uncles are old and smell weird!"
Peter smirks, flashing teeth, saying, "It's a good thing I'm not your uncle, then."
Talia narrows her eyes at him, promising pain in the case of anything going wrong and also an order to behave in the particular angle of her eyebrows. She and Claudia start talking about the latest book by their favorite author as they head for the kitchen. Peter resolves to do everything he can to make things go wrong and behave as badly as possible.
He waits a moment, letting Talia get lulled into a sense of security and fully drawn into her discussion before leaning into the two younger boys' space. Stiles has yet to stop talking about his many Pokemon and Derek has yet to stop sulking but they both turn to him almost instantly.
"Do you want to play a game?" Peter whispers, grin threatening to split his face. The twin looks of interest are all the answer he needs.
"Derek Hale, you get your ass back here immediately!" Talia yells into the trees. By her feet Stiles whimpers a little, scratched knees and hands aching but more than a little afraid of Talia as well. In that moment, she doesn't seem like the nice lady that gave him a cookie earlier. He thinks he sees a flash of red in her eyes.
Derek comes crawling out of the underbrush, covered in dirt but otherwise fine. His eyes are watery, and he's already sniffling. He knows that tone and his mom only ever curses when something bad has happened. Those combined mean he's in big trouble.
"Do you want to explain to me why you and Stiles thought it would be a good idea to play Hunting without anyone to watch over you?" Derek looks away, picking at his nail. "Or how about you tell me why you thought you could simply run off without ever telling me or Stiles's mom where you were going? Look at me, Derek," Talia demands, walking towards him. Derek looks up, tears finally falling. Her face softens slightly as she kneels down in front of her son, lowering her voice. "Derek, Stiles isn't like us. He gets hurt way more easily, doesn't have the senses we do, and he could have gotten lost. He got scared and hurt his hands trying to get back here."
"I-I'm sorry, mom! I wasn't thinking, I'm really s-sorry," Derek sobs out. He collapses into his mom's chest, clinging onto her shirt. Talia cups his head and shushes him.
"Baby, you need to apologize to Stiles and Mrs. Claudia, okay?" She pushes him back slightly, looking hard into his eyes. "And don't ever scare me like that again."
Derek snuffles, nodding weakly.
Stiles doesn't trust Peter after that. Whenever Peter is in the room, Stiles's heart rockets from its already quick pace to something that would sound more appropriate on a hummingbird. For his part, Peter just smiles and makes a game of how long he can subject the human to his presence before Stiles simply leaves, usually dragging Derek along.
(Privately, Peter thinks it's good Derek, ever the naive little thing, has such a cautious, distrusting friend. On the other hand, his life is much more boring without an easy subject to manipulate whenever he wants to cause mild havoc.)
Derek seems slightly oblivious to the tension, his irritation at constantly being towed around by a human three years his junior enough of a distraction. He deals with it, though, because he remembers the look on Mrs. Claudia's face when she saw her son scratched up and dirty and a little teary eyed but otherwise fine. Stiles would probably do worse without Derek there to pull him back from his crazy plans occasionally.
(And if Stiles has to pull Derek back from his quiet hidey holes sometimes, well, neither of them mention it.)
Stiles's mother is sick. Mrs. Talia is coming around a lot, looking nervous but resolved. His dad is drinking more often than not and his mom gets confused sometimes.
Suddenly, there's no more hospital visits. His mom is still acting weird but it's not nearly as scary as before.
Mrs. Talia comes over with her husband and they ask to talk to him. His dad is there with him when Mrs. Talia Shifts, which is only partly the reason Stiles isn't afraid. His first thought is that Derek is way cooler than he could have ever imagined.
Stiles asks a lot of questions about werewolves; too many for Derek to handle alone. Laura is in college, Cora knows less than he does, and his mom is busy doing… mom things. So he directs Stiles to Peter.
As it turns out, years of suspicion are not going to get in the way of Stiles in research mode. Peter is delighted and the general consensus of the Hale house is to not touch that mentorship with a 10 foot pole.
A woman named Kate enters the picture when Derek is 15. Stiles hates her immediately.
"Derek isn't talking to me."
It's only due to werewolf hearing he even manages to parse out what was said. Peter looks up from his computer disinterestedly. "And I am supposed to care, why?" Stiles groans incoherently into Peter's bed sheets. Rolling his eyes, Peter clicks out of the browser and turns to Stiles. "Well? Go on. You have my full, mostly undivided attention. A rare treat, I must tell you."
Stiles groans again, but turns his head so he's more easily heard. "Derek always talks to me. He never doesn't tell me things." At the raised eyebrow he can feel (damn, but he hates the Hale Expressive Eyebrows in place of actual words), he continues, "I mean, he never talks like I talk, but he does speak occasionally." Stiles frowns. "But ever since he told me about this stupid substitute teacher he has, he's just, stopped."
With a tilt of his head, Peter contemplates that. "Have you considered, that, perhaps, Derek is just growing up?" Stiles tenses, features tight. "I am not ruling out your no doubt plentiful suggestions, but have you truly considered it?"
A long pause, then Stiles mutters, "Yes. I've also considered that he's being possessed by a ghost, is being drugged and/or poisoned slowly, the government has placed a microchip in his brain that is changing his behavior, he has been abducted and experimented on by aliens, he was switched out with a really bad clone, and, finally," Stiles raises an arm to give a weak flourish, "he is just an asshole."
Huffing out a laugh, Peter replies saccharinely, "Well, I'm sure you know what I have my money on."
(Peter does not put much stock into Stiles's paranoia, usually, but this once, he might be onto something. Something very, very bad.)
"Derek. Who is Katie?" Her words are careful but Talia's grim face is pinched. Joseph stands behind her, eyes resolute and pinned on his son. Peter lurks outside, claws out and eyes flashing into the darkness.
A door slams into his face. "Derek, please! I had to tell someone! Come on, you know it wasn't okay! You know it wasn't okay," Stiles pounds on the door once more, then lets his head drop onto the solid wood. "Please," he whispers.
He doesn't get a reply.
Stiles tries again, many more times that week, and the next, and the next. Cora assures him that Derek hasn't left his room besides for school, and only really responds to Talia's alpha voice now. It's not just Stiles he ignores.
It doesn't make him feel better. Nothing much does, these days.
He's in the middle of talking about a stupid thing Scott did, gesturing for emphasis with his drink, when the door he's leaning on opens. Stiles sprawls out, entirely confused and clutching a now empty cup of water. Derek is staring down at him, and—-is that a beard? Since when can Derek grow a beard?
Derek snorts and drops a towel on Stiles's chest. "You spilled something."
Stiles sputters, grouching back, "Yeah, cuz you decided to just open your door, who does that? No warning, absolutely no concern for people who might be sitting there, minding their own business—" A quiet chuckle stops his complaints and he sits up, looking at his best friend.
"I missed you," Derek says, smiling.
(If anyone had asked Stiles at that moment, or even after, he would have said that small smile was as bright as the sun.)
(If anyone had asked how Stiles felt right then, but especially after, he would have said he felt like a planet finding its orbit.)
There are long talks, longer with private therapists, and longer still with his mother and father, but Derek eventually collapses on the couch next to Stiles. And that conversation is very short.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay." A beat. "But you do owe me about a year's worth of curly fries."
Derek's back for the summer from college. Stiles has barely stopped talking long enough to breathe since.
Stiles is ranting about why Boba Fett is completely overrated and Leia could've easily been the Chosen One when Derek leans in and catches one of his wildly gesticulating hands. Their entangled hands hang mid-air for a moment, Stiles quiet and mouth gaping, before Derek slowly lets them fall to the covers between them. Derek's cheeks are a blaze of pink and he clears his throat. His eyes dart around the room as he mutters, "I missed you."
A slow grin eases its way onto Stiles's face. "I missed you, too." He doesn't look up from their hands but his eyes are bright and he hasn't stopped smiling.
They stay like that for a long time.