Derek laid back into the feathers of the bed, letting out a small sigh as his muscles relaxed. He wasn't going to lie he had missed having a real bed. It was pretty nice.
For a while he just laid there, pushing all thoughts of pack, and peter, and responsibility out of his brain. For a minute he just let himself be Derek. He knew it was selfish. That at this moment there were a million other things that he could be doing to help his pack get ready. He knew that he had to be the alpha, he should be training them. Or visiting Deaton to find out how Stiles' training was going. He should be securing the perimeter, hell even assembling the furniture in the living room.
But he just wanted a minute. Just a minute to lay here and not have to think about anything. Not have to think about everyone dying because he just wasn't strong enough to save them all. To let his thoughts drift to happier things. Like Isaac's reaction to them renovating the house. Like the way peter seemed almost normal again when Stiles brought seventeen boxes of books for the library. Like the way Stiles rambled on about anything. Or the face he made when Derek let a smile slip across his features. It was a cross between surprise and happiness, and sometimes it made Derek want to smile more but he knew it would take away the novelty of it and then what reason would Stiles have to make the face? Not to mention he didn't really have a reason to smile most of the time.
Derek lied there for a long time, hours maybe but he didn't really know. Blankets twined around his lets, thoughts drifting about. Pinpointing good moments. Relaxing moments. Moments that made it all worth it. The way Isaac fought through the pain of fighting that made it worth breaking his wrist even though he hated himself for it. The way Erica fit in with people, letting them into her life instead of pushing them away completely that assured him he had made the right decision in giving her the bite. The look on Boyd's face when he was with the pack. People who remembered him, knew him, loved him.
The way Stiles was safe, hadn't been harmed as much as he would have been is Derek allowed himself what he wanted. The fact that he was still alive that it made it worth it for Derek to push him away. To keep him safe by keeping him at a distance. Ignoring the soft undercurrent of want, and lust, and adoration that appeared every time the boy appeared.
Though at this point Derek really sure if it was coming from Stiles, or him. He laid there and he thought about everything.
He thought about how peter had ruined Scott's life. How he was fine before, how while the bite was a gift, Scott wasn't the one it was meant for. He couldn't handle it. He thought about offering it to Stiles not just now. He had thought about it before. Many times before. When they were attacked by various monsters, and hunters, both of which seemed to see Stiles as an easy target.
He thought about making him stronger, more able to fight them off. Less likely to be killed, or injured if Derek couldn't get there fast enough. But he knew the boy didn't want it. He knew that maybe, some day in the future he would. But that his father is what held him back from it. From being part of the pack because unlike most of the pack Stiles still had another one. It was broken, and small, but he still had one. One that needed him, to pick heart healthy foods and be home on full moon nights and not show up in murder investigations as often as the wolves often did.
Stiles needed to stay human. But that didn't mean Derek didn't think about it. Didn't want it. Didn't want Stiles to be pack. His pack. He let out a sigh, brushing his hand through his hair and sitting up abruptly at the sound of the beat up jeep sputtering up the hill about a half a mile away.
Stiles.
Derek pushed himself from his bed, straightening the blankets and pulling on a shirt before walking down the stairs. Facial muscles settling into a frown on his face, where they used to go naturally but he recently found himself having to do manually now. Force himself to glare, grimace and frown in the young boy's presence. Much too young. The slam of the car door and the crunch of leaves as Stiles walked up to the door prepared him except he was never prepared.
The voice. The smell. The smile. They were always a bit overwhelming, so Stiles. So much he couldn't have, shouldn't want. "Derek?"
His voice rang out through the newly remodeled house. "Derek I brought like food and furniture now get your big werewolf muscles out here and help me UN pack them." He demanded. Freaking demanded, a freaking scrawny human teenager demanded he, the alpha go do something and the worst part was he was going to do it without even questioning it. Well maybe a bit because he had no idea why he put up with this shit. Had it been anyone else he would have bared his teeth and growled at them until they went away but the problem seemed to lie in the fact that he didn't really want Stiles to go away.
He silently walked through the kitchen and out into the hall, brushing past Stiles out the front door and to his car. He wondered why he didn't want Stiles to go, he was annoying, and loud, and really wasn't as funny as he thought he was. But Derek found himself wanting to laugh anyway. A small voice in his head rang out "mate" but he pushed it aside because it was preposterous.
He pushed it aside because the voice had been wrong before. Granted it had never been this sure. It had wavered, and questioned. It had been confused. Now it rang out sure. Steady. But he pushed it away because he didn't want it to be right. It couldn't be. That would put Stiles in more danger than he was now and Derek wasn't sure he could deal with that.
He pulled a large box labeled ikea out of Stiles' trunk. Frowning slightly at the side which depicted a bright red writing desk. But nodded slightly when he noticed beside the picture Stiles' messy writing had been added to say, "ISAAC" Derek couldn't deny that Isaac would probably love it. The bright red, the large surface to spread his work out on. Part of him hated that Stiles knew his pack so well. Every single member individually. He knew what made them tick, what they hated, what they loved, what triggered them, what their favorite colors, movies, and snacks were. And he didn't even pretend he didn't know. He bought them things just because it reminded him of them.
Like the desk for Isaac, and the books for peter, and the hair gel that had mysteriously appeared in Jackson's room that not only made it possible for Jackson to do his hair in that stupid little flip thing but also didn't bother Lydia's allergies like a lot of them did. He did it with the comforter set that he had replaced in Erica's room. (The first one had been pink checkers because it was all Derek could find that reminded him of girls) Stiles had searched until finding a blanket that showed the expanse of the New York City skyline. He vaguely remembered Erica showing him a picture of something like that before but he had been busy. But Stiles, he had remembered and the look on Erica's face made Derek wish he remembered these kinds of things.
Stiles did it with everyone, he ordered the right kinds of pizza on pack mandated movie nights, he bought groceries that everyone liked even though Derek insisted he didn't have to. But Stiles insisted Derek never bought the right stuff and it just made more sense for him to take the grocery tin and do the shopping when the pack was low.
And Derek didn't nessacaraly disagree with him. He really didn't because Stiles always knew what everyone wanted. Derek helped unpack the car, putting things away in relative silence. There was the soft hum of Stiles' voice that never seemed to stop but Derek was so used to it that he really didn't even mind anymore. The tapping, or the mumbling or the quiet hum of a song that Stiles had in his head. It was always something and it used to bother him to no end but now he found it relaxing.
Like a heartbeat, it assured him that Stiles was alive. That he was okay, he wasn't freaking out, wasn't dying. He was okay. The times when Stiles hadn't been tapping, or speaking or humming or making some sort of noise. They had worried him. He had found that Stiles was panicking, he wasn't okay. He was thinking too hard about things that were killing him inside and Derek hated it. He hadn't hated the tapping since. He hadn't hated it in a long time. So when Stiles apologized he just nodded knowing that he would go back to doing it soon.
"So, I got groceries, and a desk and a chair for Isaac's room. I got that chair peter wanted but he isn't allowed to know because it's his birthday in a few days and I refuse to buy him more than one present so if he happens to get it out of you make sure he knows that's his present and he isn't getting another one. Um, I got that swing thing that Erica and Boyd wanted to put up in the back yard but I got a receipt because I wasn't sure where you landed on that one. I was pretty sure that was your "yes" shut up and not your "no" shut up but I'm not really sure." Stiles took a breath trying to remember what else he got, "oh yeah, I got you a lamp because your room is dark and scary and um, got Lydia candles and stuff but they are the kind without the flame so .." he lead of pulling stuff out of bags, "oh and I got Erica a dresser which you pulled out earlier, cause she is getting way too many clothes to put in that closet especially since Boyd is pretty much just moving into her room as of late and half of his clothes are in there." He said shrugging and starting to read the directions for the lamp.
Derek was mentally wiling himself not to smile because his gut was filled with this warm fuzzy feeling and he was trying really really hard not to just sit down and watch Stiles. Because this all just felt so freaking domestic. It reminded him of his parents. His mother had always done the shopping. She had always known just what everyone wanted. She had come home and told his father just what to do and he had never minded because nothing had made him happier than making his mother happy.
They were perfect; there had been so much love there. And pack dynamics took a back seat to that love. His mother, a beta, had bossed his father, the alpha around as much as she wanted because she didn't take anyone's shit. His mother was born to be an alpha but took the back seat because her husband did it so well. And when he didn't, well his mother called him on his shit. He had always respected her for doing that. For challenging his authority without making him feel inadequate. It was one of the reasons Derek found himself having to force himself into unhappiness with Stiles around because as much as he hated being challenged. He knew sometimes he needed it. He knew sometimes he was a dick and he needed to be called out and told that he was being stupid and to do something different. He had hated it when Scott did it. But mostly because Scott was a fucking idiot and his ideas were stupider than Derek's. But he loved it when Stiles did it. As much as he hated to admit it.
Derek sat down, picking up the pieces of the lamp and trying to figure out what goes where. Stiles glanced up, thumb between his lips and a smirk on his face. "Sour wolf. There is a reason they make directions, god you are such a man. You're just like my dad he never reads directions either. Nothing good happens when you don't read the directions you just get a lamp that you have to turn on by saying rampu." Derek smirked, because he wasn't too old to not know what Stiles was talking about. His little sister Jamie had loved that show. "Stiles, I'm pretty sure those directions were in Japanese"
Stiles gaped at him, Derek "I'm going to eat you for breakfast without any fucking milk because I am just that scary "hale had just understood his reference. Which was just. Not okay. It was freaking hilarious. "Well these ones aren't" he countered waving the directions in front of his face. "But you're reading them" he replied. Which was a good point to be honest, because unless he wanted to like read over his shoulder Derek didn't really have access to the directions.
"Whatever" he responded, smirking when Derek went back to tinkering with the pieces. He was putting them together right but it was the principle of the matter. Eventually he was going to make a mistake and Stiles was going to be there with the directions and the plan and the levelheaded solution. That thought made him smile even if it was just a lamp.
He glanced up, "Derek, D goes in E." he said before glancing back down at the directions trying to memorize them so he wouldn't have to keep going back over it again and again and again.
Derek didn't respond, just nodded and did as Stiles directed. And he was right, he was always right. They had it built in no time at all and Stiles insisted they should plug it in in Derek's room which he had no issue with. His room did need light after all. So he dragged the giant lamp with a dimmer up the stairs to his bedroom and plugged it into the wall and watched as it lit up the room.
The room was actually pretty nice, he was glad they had started the renovation. This had been his parent's room before the fire. Something felt wrong about leaving it empty, felt wrong to live in his childhood room when he had lost the innocence of a child long ago. So he had moved here, putting all of Isaac's things in the room that had been his in childhood. He was grateful that nothing looked the way it had before the fire. The walls were painted a deep orange, something he had fought against but now found he liked. He thought red would be bad; it would remind him of death, and blood and fire and Stiles. Stiles and his stupid sweatshirt, that he wears all the freaking time and Stiles has no idea how freaking attractive that thing is.
So you can see why Derek opted out of red. But Stiles and Isaac and peter had insisted he go with something bright, and it was either this dark orange color, or this color that reminded him of Stiles' eyes so he went with the orange. It was really quite nice. Nothing like the blue that it had been when it had been his parent's bedroom. It was a nice blue, and Derek had nothing against it he just wanted it to be different. He needed a separation from this house. And the one he grew up in.
"Dude, you have electricity, and a bed." Stiles said excitedly, his face lighting up and Derek didn't even try to smother the smile that snuck its way onto his face. "yes." He replied sitting down on the aforementioned bed. "It's comfortable" he noted, thoughts wandering back to that morning. To the thoughts of Stiles. And his safety and the memory that Derek wasn't helping either of them here.
Letting Stiles get so close, so involved in the pack. He wasn't helping him by confusing himself and Stiles with his parents. Because his parents had been strong, and in love, and could both handle themselves. And there lied the difference. Derek wasn't strong, Stiles didn't love him, and Stiles was too breakable. Derek couldn't keep doing this. He sighed pushing himself off of his bed, replacing the neutral look on his face with a glare that took all of his energy to muster. There was no feeling behind it. Any hate he had for Stiles was long gone and all that was left to fuel the fire behind the glare was his hatred for himself. For the danger he put the boy into. The pain he caused him. "You should leave." He growled.
Stiles frowned, they had been doing well. Having almost normal conversations, building furniture. Stiles had thought maybe today wouldn't end like this. Like it always did when he lulled himself into a sense of false security. Where he let himself think that Derek maybe didn't hate him, at the best didn't just tolerate him. But he was wrong. He knew it. He nodded. "Tell Isaac I'll be over later to help him set up his desk." He said before walking out the door. Because half of him was tired of challenging Derek. It didn't seem to do anyone any good to point out when the alpha was being an asshole.
He knew one day it would just get him killed and even though every fiber of his being was yelling at him to go back up to Derek's room and demand an answer for why he hated him so much when all he did was try to be nice. Try to do everything he could for the pack. When all he did was sacrifice himself, what was there to hate him so openly about. He didn't. He just got into his car and drove away.
And Derek was left alone in the house lying on his empty bed hating himself. Hating himself for letting Stiles get under his skin to begin with. Hating himself for caring enough to not just bite the boy and save him from all the creatures that might hurt him. Hating himself for wanting Stiles to begin with. Hating himself for knowing the little voice inside his head that told him Stiles was his mate was right and for not doing anything about it.
And that was where he was laying when Isaac came home, face screwed up in conflict. Taking a breath before speaking "you're my alpha and it's my duty to listen to you, and respect you. But he is my friend and you hurt him and it's also my duty to threaten people who are being totally stupid and hurting his feelings." He could sense the nervousness under a thick layer of sincerity and concern, though if it was nerves because of Derek being his alpha or nerves from something else Derek couldn't really tell.
"I don't know what you are talking about pup." He replied eyes narrowed. Isaac rolled his eyes at him, "you know how he feels about you. Everyone knows how he feels about you. God even Scott knows how he feels about you and Scott is the densest person to have ever been born." Derek didn't reply, but his eyes sought out the floor in favor of Isaac's eyes. "you have got to stop letting him think you hate him because I just spent four hours trying to convince him that you really do want him to be part of the pack and he hasn't done anything wrong." He said angrily, "For fucks sake Derek he thinks he bought the wrong lamp or something. He thinks you would kick him out of the pack because he picked the wrong freaking lamp and that is messed up."
Derek frowned, more fuel for the hate fire he figured. "I have to." He replied finally meeting Isaac's eyes. "I have to because if he knows he is part of the pack if he knows how big a part of the pack he is. How important he is. Then he will never leave. He will always stay, and he will get hurt, and it will be my fault because I can't always be there." He said eyes flashing red. Isaac whimpered, unconsciously baring his neck to his alpha. He frowned though before turning in the other direction, facing away from the alpha to make it better and easier to defy him. "You're already hurting him." He replied before walking out the door leaving Derek in pretty much the exact place he was before Isaac arrived.
Lying on his bed, thinking about how much he hated himself. For hurting Stiles, for being a bad alpha, for letting his pups do something that should have been his job to begin with. He hated himself for a million different things but he hated himself most for the fact that Isaac was right. He hated that by trying to not hurt Stiles he was hurting him. And he hated that he didn't know how to fix it.
He frowned, pushing himself off the bed and walking downstairs past Isaac's bedroom. Pressing his hand lightly to the door frame, "I don't know how to fix it but I'm going to try." He said running through all the ways this could go horribly wrong in his head, "just know, if I screw up you might have to fix it." Isaac didn't respond but Derek knew he would. So he nodded and walked out the door.
Taking the walk to Stiles' house to figure out what to say, what exactly he should do to make Stiles realize how important he is. That he doesn't hate him, that all he wants is for him to be safe and being surrounded by werewolves isn't the best way to go about that. By the time he was knocking lightly on Stiles' window he hadn't gotten any closer to figuring out how to put it other than, "I love you and I don't want you to get hurt." Which he couldn't say for obvious reasons. Starting with the fact that Stiles was barely 18 and he didn't know what love was. And ending with the fact that he would just be putting him in more danger by saying that.
So when Stiles slid open the window, he just climbed in silently. Shoving his hands in his jean pockets awkwardly and leaning against the wall. He stayed like that, panicking a little as he franticly tried to figure out what to say.
"Sourwolf did you actually need something?" Stiles asked, and Derek hard as he tried couldn't get a read on him it was like. He just didn't smell like anything, he didn't smell like Stiles, he didn't smell like nerves and soft cotton, and pack and home, he didn't smell like anything at all.
Derek looked franticly around for the reason, eyes settling on the small bump around Stiles' neck and glaring at it, stepping forward and pulling at the soft leather pulling it off him.
"I hate this stuff." He muttered glaring at the little pouch of herbs that hid Stiles' scent from him. He threw it across the room, reveling in the scent that surround him at the loss of the pouch. It was happiness, and warmth and comfort and everything Stiles was.
He took a breath, comforted by the sense of normalcy that came with it.
Stiles stared at the pouch frowning, "hey, I worked hard on that" he said pouting a bit. Because he had, he had been working on it for a week to make a certain collection of herbs and spices and magic that would make his scent completely undetectable. Any change in his emotions, gone. He worked hard to make sure none of his friends would be able to tell what he was feeling without asking first like normal people, but of course in comes Derek and everything goes out the window.
Derek sighed, "Then give it to Danny or something, I wouldn't mind not smelling him." He said nonchalantly, "he smells overwhelmingly like Jackson, and alcohol and the need for everyone to love him."
Stiles frowned, "and I smell any better?" he asked confused, Scott had told him he reeked of desperation and Derek all the time. Which was why he had made it to begin with so everyone wouldn't have to put up with his smell along with the fact that he was going to get them hurt by being a fucking clumsy human.
"you smell like pack, like fresh laundry, and leaves in the fall, and family" Derek replied honestly, which in hindsight was probably not a good idea because Stiles' face was softening and he was smiling and probably reading just the right amount into it to understand what was actually going on. But Derek didn't want him to he just. He wanted him to know he was pack, not that he was in love with him. That was not the confession he came to admit today.
Derek's brow furrowed, and he struggled for what to say yet again. "Derek, are you here for a reason… or are you just going to tell me I smell good and then glare at me all day?" Stiles asked. His voice sounded annoyed but he smelled happy. He looked happy too, smile sneaking its way onto his cheeks.
"You know you're pack right?" he asked simply, "that we wouldn't be what we are today without you"
Stiles had a little difficulty swallowing because of course he knew that, kind of. He knew the pack would be different without him. They wouldn't get the right groceries and Derek would probably have broken a few more bones but it was different to hear it from Derek. To have him say that Stiles was pack. He hadn't ever done that before.
"Yeah man, I know" he said nodding, unable to resist the grin that threatened to take over his entire face.
"And you know I don't hate you?" he asked. Derek was a little less sure of this one. Well he was sure that he didn't hate Stiles it wasn't that part. He was just iffy on weither or not Stiles knew it.
Which he didn't, to be quite frank Stiles was under the impression he was a pain in Derek's ass because anytime it seemed like maybe they were getting past Derek openly despising him. Derek kicked him out, or pushed him away, or slammed him into a wall and glared at him. So yeah, he wasn't aware that Derek didn't hate him.
"You have an odd way of showing it" Stiles replied laughing, "because last I checked, glaring, threatening, and bruising were things you do to people you dislike. Not people you... uh, like, in a friendly sense, its friends right, or aquantences, frenemies… not sure what the next step from not hating is." He rambled and Derek laughed.
The look of surprise on Stiles' face was well deserved as he had never allowed himself to laugh in front of the teen before. He had been too busy thinking of all the ways he could get him killed but it was becoming more apparent by the second that no matter what he did Stiles wasn't going anywhere.
He could push him away, tell him he hated him and never wanted to see him again and he was pretty sure he would show up the next Sunday with groceries and paint swatches telling him to suck it up and stop being such a sourwolf.
So he let himself laugh, he let himself cross the room and sit down on the bed next to Stiles, laughing a little bit harder because his face looked a bit like a fish when he was startled.
So maybe it wasn't what he came here to admit, but he doubted he would get a time as good as this one. He took a deep breath, "I don't hate you, I spend an alarming amount of my time trying to figure out how to keep you safe and until today when Isaac told me I was being a dick, I was under the impression that pushing you away from this life, with werewolves and supernatural creatures and things that could kill you. Very quickly and not have a second thought about it, well I thought that was the best way to go." He said shaking his head slightly, "but apparently you are the most stubborn person in the world and I'm pretty sure there is nothing I could ever do to get you to leave this behind so I figured I might as well get it out in the open."
Derek reached out tenitively, god this had better work. He was putting his faith in that little voice that was screaming mate at him. He was trusting it and god damn it, the stupid voice had better be right this time. Because he was about to make the stupidest sappy love story confession he had ever imagined and if the stupid voice was wrong he was going to go jump off a fucking cliff.
"Stiles Stilinski, I have been in love with your stupid, stubborn, opinionated, scrawny, human ass for over a year now. You don't even realize how incredibly difficult it is to pretend I don't like you every freaking day. I kept slipping up and letting myself be happy and then realizing what I was doing, but it was so easy to do." He said smiling a little, "you remind me of my mother, I've never told you that but you do. She was stubborn and challenging and she took care of everyone. She knew exactly what they needed from chicken soup to a kick in the ass and she would give it to them no matter who they are or what they could do to her." He smiled squeezing Stiles' hand, waiting for it to sink in.
He was hoping this wouldn't back fire on him, he didn't do this. Didn't do emotions, didn't care. Didn't tell people how he felt, this wasn't normal for him and he was praying it didn't come back to bite him in the ass.
Stiles exhaled heavily.
"You don't hate me."
"No"
"You love me?" he asked confused look crossing his face again. Derek smiled, "I do"
Stiles took a breath and kept pondering it.
And Derek waited.
"I remind you of your mother?" he asked, Derek nodded.
Stiles laughed and relief washed over Derek, because even if he hadn't said anything it wasn't a negative reaction. He wasn't sure what Stiles was going to say but he knew the boy wasn't cruel enough to flat out laugh in his face.
"And you're not just… kidding. You didn't like loose a bet and have to convince some stupid kid who's clearly in love with you that you love them?" he asked concern flashing in his eyes.
Derek smirked, "do you really think I'm that cruel?" he asked squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I'm not sure, until twenty minutes ago I thought you hated my guts I'm not sure what to believe anymore." Derek smiled at him, "it's not a joke." He said reaching his hand out to cup Stiles' cheek, it was warm and soft under his hand and it made him smile all the more. "I'm going to kiss you now." Derek said laughing a bit when Stiles nodded enthusiastically.
Derek figured maybe Isaac was right about this one. The whole him being a total ass thing, because he really wasn't helping either of them by pretending he hated him. So he closed the gap, hands holding tight on the back of Stiles' hair. It was sloppy and messy and about as good of a kiss as it possibly can be when the two people kissing are grinning ridiculously. Which was surprisingly pretty good, as it made his stomach drop? and his hands feel clammy. Not to mention he couldn't stop freaking smiling, and for once he didn't have to. He didn't have to press it down, he didn't have to pretend he wasn't happy, that he didn't want to grab the boy in front of him and just never let go.
And when he pulled away minutes later, forehead resting on Stiles' he was still grinning. "I was thinking of painting our bedroom red, any objections."
He was going to take the enthusiastic kiss as a no.