Over the next few weeks, they fell into a rhythm as a couple. If they could be described like that. It was in the way they were around each other, the easy relaxation that came when they spent time together. Stiles could talk and Derek never had to say anything at all. Stiles didn't mind, because though it wasn't easy to pull a string of sentences from the alpha, Stiles found himself learning about Derek in other ways.

Like his (favorable) reaction to Stiles wearing red. And how acutely aware of Stiles Derek was all the time. When Stiles forgot his jacket, Derek let him borrow the leather one that Derek always were. Didn't say a word, just passed it over and then commented that it was a good look for him after he put it on.

And Derek's strange (but cute) fascination with butterflies. Stiles had seen him distracted by them more than once, and at one point had quietly walked in upon him sitting cross-legged in a patch of sunlight on the floor in a dusty room of the Hale house, one hand on his knee, the other with his elbow resting on his other knee, and a butterfly held carefully aloft on his fingers. Admittedly, Derek had been frowning. But the golden sunlight kissed his skin and played through his dark hair, lighting the wolf from above and behind. Stiles didn't think Derek noticed him, too deep in though, so he'd backed out and left.

Stiles learned ,therefore, that he couldn't always take Derek at face value. Whereas he himself hid under a mask of chatter, Derek cloaked himself in silence. He was better at showing Stiles how much he cared, rather than saying the words. Which was just fine with Stiles, because he knew.

That wasn't to say Derek was quiet all the time. Sometimes had peaceful moments of conversation, short though they may be, there was dark active participation from the Sourwolf.

Derek liked accosting him in any way possible and kissing him senseless. Which Stiles liked also- he liked it a lot. But it happened enough that Scott started to ask why Stiles allowed him to do it.

The answer to that was simple. It was because of the Fight. Capitalized, because it stood out so clearly in his mind.

The Fight happened after a pack meeting one night. Stiles thought he was being treated too much like an object and confronted Derek about it.

Derek was kissing him again, up against the wall in the livingroom. It was good- it was always good kissing Derek. But the insecurity came to the surface. As it always did. After all, how could someone so blatantly awesome as Derek like or be attracted to someone so blatantly not-awesome as Stiles? Stiles pushed at Derek's shoulders.

"Derek- Derek wait." Stiles mumbled.

Derek pulled back, an eyebrow raised. Not in an 'excuse you, bitch?' way, as Stiles had once thought, but in a confused and vaguely worried way.

"I- would you stop kissing me?" Stiles asked, kind of a demand.

"I did." Derek's brows furrowed, confused.

"Not like that. I mean, just shoving me up wherever you want me and whenever you want me." Stiles wrenched away from Derek, trying to get equal footing.

"I thought you liked it." Derek said, suspiciously accusing.

Stiles met his eyes. Derek was human, yes, but the wolf was in there and Stiles would make them both understand that he was putting his foot down. Derek instantly bristled when Stiles didn't look away, stiffening and growling warningly.

"Well I don't. Not like that."

Derek's growling got louder, but Stiles was silent. He wasn't afraid. There was a time where he would have shit his pants at this confrontation, but now he was confident that even pissed off, Derek would not hurt him.

"Out." Derek snarled.

Stiles always noticed when the wolf was in more control that Derek was. His voice changed- not by much, but it was there. Stiles put his nose in the air and left.

After he was gone, Derek paced. And paced. And paced. HE shouldn't have snapped like that. Not at Stiles. Because Stiles was human and while Derek was hyperaware of how fragile he was in comparison, he forgot sometimes that Stiles didn't think like a wolf. Of course he would see Derek's actions the way he did. And as distraught over it as he was, Derek couldn't help but be proud of his mate's strength.

But Stiles hadn't texted him or anything and Derek had a feeling that he was the one who was supposed to apologize. But he didn't know how.

Which found him at Stiles' house, crawling in through the window silently. The lights were all on, and Stiles was sitting at his computer, apparently not seeing Derek come in.

"Stiles?" Derek questioned, voice quiet because he wasn't trying to scare Stiles but he usually ended up doing that anyway.

"Holy sh- can't you knock?!" Stiles yelped, spinning around and clutching his chest.

Derek ducked his head, hands in his pockets. He felt horrible, and he didn't even know why anymore. He'd meant to just come and apologize and explain himself, but now, being in front of Stiles, all he wanted to do was grovel and beg for forgiveness.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked finally, concern tinting his voice.

Derek shrugged, kept his eyes down.

"I'm sorry." He cleared his throat nervously. "I should not have assumed." Derek's fists clenched his pockets. "I'm not used to… this. What we have. But that's an excuse. Anyway…"

Stiles took a moment to take him in. Toe examine Derek. He looked like a dog with its tail between its legs. And he realized that of course Derek was the way he was. It wasn't like he had anyone to ask for pointers. And Stiles had mostly forgiven him anyway. He couldn't stay mad at Derek.

"Come here." He said finally, holding out his arms with a wry, amused smile.

Stiles wasn't expecting Derek to come forward, go down on his knees, and wrap his arms around Stiles' waist. He breathed evenly as Derek nuzzled his stomach and settled, petting Derek's hair and wondering what was wrong now but unwilling to force Derek to say anything.

Derek never spoke up, but Stiles was okay with that. They fell into Stiles' bed at some point, falling asleep in a tangle of limbs and smash of bodies but that was okay, even if it wasn't exactly graceful.

So Stiles' answer, when Scott asked why he let Derek do whatever he pleased, was this-

"Because I can make him do whatever I want."

Not that he'd ever let the Sourwolf hear that. He doubted it would endear him to Derek at all. So it was a secret.