A/N: OHMYGOD I'M SO SORRY. I didn't double checked it because it's one in the morning and it's been a tiring day, but when I finally did, I just realized the story is being cut in the middle. So instead of editing the first chapter, I add this second one. Thanks especially for SmileBecauseYourBeautiful for the review that makes me realize my mistake. Hope you enjoy! :)
Actually, Stiles has a lot of things in his mind.
Summer break almost ends, just three days to go before he has to go back to the flat he's renting near Berkeley, honestly, and he isn't ready to leave. Two years ago he would be excited (and a bit sad, because looking at his dad becoming smaller by the second in the rearview mirror would never be easy) because damn, he loves what he's doing, what he's learning.
But he isn't ready. Not while he's not a hundred percent sure where he's standing with Derek right now.
Metaphorically, of course.
Thus, a lot of things in his mind. Particularly Derek-related things.
He feels like a main character in a romcom (finally he's the Batman and Scott's the sidekick Robin), lying on his bed in the dark, twirling his phone with one hand while the other bent behind his head, thinking about what his finally-there love story is gonna be like. If he doesn't feel so anxious he'd have the mind to throw up because that is his life now, copying a scene right out of a romance movie.
Does he have to make the first move? Does Derek even want to get serious with him? The smiles, the significant looks, the touches, they could be anything, could they not? What if Derek doesn't make a move because he doesn't want anything to happen? But God, that smile. That especially little, adorable smile, with the crinkle on the corner of his ocean eyes, cute bunny teeth, red ears.
Stiles is so, so screwed.
He doesn't even think the muscle is important, anymore.
Well, okay, they're important. But not the point. The point is he's fairly certain he will still love Derek even though Derek becomes as fat as a cow or somethi—oh God.
Oh God.
He loves Derek.
He's in love with Derek.
He's freaking out. He's—
[23:22] To: Laura H
Laura
[23:22] To: Laura H
I'm Freaking Out with capitals.
[23:23] To: Laura H
Laura
[23:24] From: Laura H
Shut up. Not all of us are nocturnal. This better be important.
[23:25] To: Laura H
I think I'm in love with your brother
[23:25] From: Laura H
…that's news to you? I woke up in the middle of the night for this?
[23:25] From Laura H
Whatever. Thank goodness, finally. Now you could run off to the sunset or something.
[23:26] To: Laura H
Laura I'm serious! What should I do?!
[23:27] From: Laura H
Are you kidding me? You should keep that a secret till the day you die. Grow old alone. I don't care.
[23:27] To: Laura H
Laura
[23:28] From: Laura H
For the love of God, just fucking tell him! Preferably before you go back to your college, so the two of you can do loud and obnoxious sex as soon as you get back to your apartment in Berkeley because you wouldn't be able to do that in your dad's house. Obviously.
[23:29] From: Laura H
Now don't disturb my sleep anymore. You're lucky you're my favorite person. I'd have slaughtered you otherwise.
Stiles flails with his hands because what the hell?! He deflates, drops everything—phone and limbs—on the bed before sighing. Laura did have a point. He should just tell Derek. The worst that could happen is Derek rejecting him, right? He could always move on (or not, he's not sure anymore).
He sleeps with that in mind.
Because he's Stiles, the worst that could happen is not Derek rejecting him. Because what's worse than Derek rejecting him? Involved in a car crash right where he's on the way to the promised place to meet Derek, right when he's about to tell Derek how he feels, that's what. His life. If he's not so busy trying to stay awake, he'd mope in a nearest corner he could find.
It's a good thing the truck's driver hit his jeep—God, his baby is totaled—on the passenger seat side. Okay, wait, the sentence above is definitely called being optimistic. He doesn't even know when he's changed to being an optimist. That job is Scott's part in their friendship.
Stiles is barely conscious by the time the medical team arrive, and he's certainly lose all consciousness by the time the ambulance rush him to the hospital. The last thing he thinks about before his world goes dark is Derek's worried expression when the guy realizes Stiles is not coming.
The sound of the door closing is what wakes Stiles.
A beeping sound, a bed that's totally not his, the uncomfortable pillow, the feeling of being connected to an IV and the smell of medicines are things that tell him he's in a hospital. Why was Stiles in a hospital, again?
He groans when he tries to open his eyes as the lights hitting them immediately making his head pound with ache. There's a gentle hand on his shoulder and a straw against his mouth. He opens it, giving access to whatever liquid—Gatorade, apparently—is shoving down its way to his throat.
"You okay, son?" a voice, his dad voice, is asking from his beside. Right, he's been in an accident. God, his head and chest hurt.
"Aside from feeling like I've been hit by a truck, yes, I'm peachy."
"Oh, the sarcasm. You're just alright. I'm not too worried now." His dad says. When he unfolds his eyes open, he sees his father smiling down at him, forehead crinkle in that concerned way. He reaches a hand between his dad's eyebrows, smothering the line just like he'd do as a child and been on a worrying adventure with Scott.
"That's a blatant lie." He smiles back. "How long have I been out?" He asks as he drops his hand down.
"Eight hours. Two where Lydia refused to end the Skype call, finally agreed, only to call again an hour later for another two hours, six in which Scott refused to bug from that spot," his dad points the chair at the corner of the room, "and the total eight of my deputy and her brother being in and out of this room."
His eyes widen.
His dad gives him a significant look that says 'yep', and continues, "They're being ushered out by the nurse half an hour ago, because visiting hours is over, but said brother, particularly, doesn't want to get out of the waiting room. It's a miracle Laura managed to haul his ass to get something to eat, if only for fifteen minutes."
He hums, refusing to meet his dad's inquiring eyes.
"Now, son, do you have something you want to tell me?"
"…not really?" at his dad's withering look he quickly adds, "Okay, okay! Yes! You know that I actually wanted to tell you but I don't know where to start and it's not like there's anything going on, because I'd have been telling you otherwise, but you know, there's just so much on my mind including how should I te—"
"Stiles."
He shuts his mouth closed, opens them again to say, "I think I like—", a look from his dad, "ugh, I hate you. Yes, I'm a hundred percent positive I love him, but nothing's happening, okay?"
"But you want something to happen."
"Who doesn't." he mumbles, loud enough for his father to hear and snort in response.
"I wouldn't be worried if I were you." His dad replies. He gapes at that, wants to flail but fails (ha. It rhymes). His dad just looks at him fondly and says, "Go rest, Stiles." As if on cue, his mind becomes heavier and before he knew it, his world goes dark for the second time that day.
When he wakes up again, his head feels like it's been hit by tons of bricks. He groans, and suddenly, there are hands on his forehead and arm.
"Stiles, you awake?"
Derek, his mind supplies. It's Derek.
He squints, still got that constant ache on his skull, and says, "Not to sound rude, but last time I checked, my dad says visiting hours are over. What time is it?"
"It's nine. Last time I checked your dad said and I quote, that's what we have Melissa here for, end quote. Apparently, she's willing to abuse her job to get me in because your dad is working night shift."
He squeaks (if anyone asks, he'd say it sounds manly) at that, "My dad let you in? Really?"
Derek hums, swiping strands of hair on his head. "Don't do that again, Stiles, I thought I was going to have a heart attack when Laura called and said you were in a car crash. You've got me really worried."
"If I'd known worrying makes you chatty, I'd have tried that trick a long time ago."
"Stiles." Derek says, exasperated but fond, and he can't help but preen, because the worry lines on Derek's forehead cease a little. He's got those crinkles on the corner of his eyes, a sign Derek's amused but not quite smiling yet, and his expression is so adorable that Stiles' brain short-circuited for a minute before it sends his mouth signals that shouts, DON'T, NO, NO, N—
"I love you." He blurts. And he knows he pales. He doesn't plan to say that, but he's not taking it back either, because it's true. He means it with all his heart. But then Derek's initial shock turns to a bright, bright, bright smile, like actually brighter than the sun kind of bright, and Stiles could finally release the breath he's not aware holding.
And wow, since when Derek's face is this close? Damn, now that he finally thinks Derek's eyes couldn't be more beautiful, they just set themselves on his brown ones and he's sure he wouldn't find the word to describe how fascinating they are.
When their lips finally met, it's gentle like how he expected it would be and so, so much more.
It's over almost before he could process it, leaving him craving for another. But when Derek whispers, "I love you.", against his lips, all thoughts are leaving him, replaced with these tingling and warm feelings all over his body. Derek leans back, the hand that's before gripping his arm slips into his palm and intertwining their fingers together.
Stiles is connected to a beeping machine, arteries to an IV, lying on a hospital bed, using an uncomfortable pillow, just recently hit by a truck, but screw them. Screw them all.
It's the best day ever.
Actually, screw it, too.
It's the best summer ever.