It wasn't as though Stiles was unhappy. Things always change, afterall. He had his job at the library, and miraculously his Jeep and his Dad were still ticking along. He didn't see Scott as much as he used to, of course, but that would probably change when baby number three started sleeping through the night.
Most of his old pack had picked up and moved away from Beacon Hills ages ago. Kira and Malia send an elaborate Christmas card from San Francisco every year, this year they had engaged in partners yoga while wearing ugly Christmas sweaters in front of the Golden Gate bridge. Boyd and Erica lived next to Lydia in some monstrously yuppie gated community, so they usually sent greeting via a video card that would manage to survey the newest additions to their houses. That's how it goes.
Stiles had gone to quite a few parties when he'd been working through his degree, but his taste for warm beer out of red solo cups and awkward shouted conversations had slowly worn off until he found himself staying and watching the Colbert Report more often than not. Which was fine.
Stanford had been a bright spot, but then his dad's heart had nearly given out during the middle of a stake-out, and his pension had been hardly enough to keep the house. Stiles had moved back into his boyhood room to supervise the acceptance of casseroles from friendly neighbors, and then switched to online courses and just…stayed.
He'd managed to wrangle an office in the town archives where people rarely bothered him. Stiles could pore over supernatural artifacts all he wanted, he was totally absorbed in his work. There was an intricate filing system in place even, that actually took place in actual file folders.
Which is why it had been very upsetting when one morning, Derek Hale, last seen loping into the sunset in Mexico ten years ago, had made his large wolfy self at home on top of that filing cabinet.
Stiles was slouching into his office at 730, gulping down his coffee, let out a wail and a flail that felt weirdly foreign to his limbs, which was the only reason he ended up in a heap on the floor in front of his filing cabinet.
"You!" he accused the intruder. The intruder replied by tilting his head to side, and dropping a large bone onto Stiles' beautifully arranged desk. Stiles wailed. "My files!" The rude dog responding by whining in amusement.
Well. Stiles was a mature adult who didn't need to conduct conversations from the floor. He raised himself into his comfortable (and very expensive) desk chair, downed the rest of his coffee, thumped his coffee cup down on his desk with manly emphasis, and crossed his arms.
This was the stance of a man who could wait for answers. A man who had never spared another thought for tall dark handsome men who loped into sunsets accompanied by leggy assassins. Many leggy assassins, if Lydia was to be believed.
The wolf rolled his eyes, (of course) and gracefully hopped down from his perch, while simultaneously stretching out human hands above his now human head. Derek stretched with athletic enthusiasm, and let out a satisfied noise as his spine popped a little. Stiles stared slackjawed at the expanse of new tattoos and occasional scars decorating a torso that was still chiseled in a way that spoke of hard fights and long nights rather than dull hours sculpting muscles in a gym, covered in far more hair that led down to… Stiles averted his eyes.
"Yoga" said a voice sagely. Gripping tight to his new, expensive desk chair Stiles snapped his mouth shut and attempted to convey with his glare that naked wolves were not welcome to barge into his office, disarrange his research and toss bones everywhere.
"…and meditation practice of course" Derek nodded serenely, seating himself crosslegged on the floor. "That's how you get used to stretching your body like that."
"Um" said Stiles. He stared down at his own legs. They weren't all that flexible or long, he reflected sadly.
"I'll tell you all about it when there's time of course." Derek gestured at his dinner bones, in a pile on top of Stiles' filing cabinet. "I really need some help with figuring all this out first."
"Dinner?"
Derek beamed.
