Derek was unsurprised to hear Stiles' knock on his door early the next morning.
"We need to talk," Stiles began without preliminaries as soon as Derek opened the door. "Scott's sleeping in, can we just go to the coffee shop or something…"
"No —" Derek hurried to clarify as Stiles' jaw twitched with anger. "I mean, no, we don't need to go anywhere. You can — you can come in."
Surprise flashed over Stiles' face. "In — into your place?"
"Yeah." Derek was glad that Stiles seemed to know enough about wolves to understand how important this was to him, to take the gesture as it was meant. No one but Derek had been in this apartment since Derek had moved in; he even met with Isaac on neutral ground or at Isaac's place. Allowing Stiles in, letting his scent cloud the apartment — in Derek's awkward way, he was trying to make a declaration, and Stiles seemed to understand at least some of that.
"Okay," Stiles said somewhat uncertainly.
"There's — it's about the size of your place, but the kitchen's on the right, and the bathroom's on the left. And there's — the bed is by the window. There's a couch about six feet in front of you, and a coffee table in front of it. The bed is over to the right of that stuff, the dresser against the far wall. There's a table here by the door with my keys and stuff, but not much else. I don't have a lot of furniture."
"Thanks," Stiles said, his voice carefully neutral now, the expression on his usually-transparent face unreadable. Derek watched as Stiles explored the room a little, mapping out the major furniture before sitting down on the couch.
"Do you — I could make tea or something?"
"I don't want any damn tea," Stiles snapped, standing up again almost immediately. "I just — I just want to know where I stand. Can you give me that much?"
"I — I don't — " Derek started, but Stiles was already talking over him, ranting half to himself, it seemed, pacing back and forth in front of the sofa.
" — Because just when I think I know where this is headed, something shifts, and it makes me worry that I've — that I've misread everything. That it's just wishful thinking that's making me think that sometimes you — and I've been there before, Derek. I've been there way too often. I've spent a good part of my life chasing after people who didn't feel the same way about me that I felt about them, and I'm done with that. So, I just need to know."
Stiles ran a hand through his hair, pulling in a shaky breath. "Do you just want my friendship?" he asked bluntly. "Because you've got that, and that's where it can stand. But if you want more — and that wasn't wishful thinking grinding up against me in that club last night, Derek — then you need to come right out and say it, and stop blowing hot and cold, or whatever is going on."
"I do." Derek closed his eyes, trying to bolster his courage. "I do want more."
"Oh." Stiles seemed taken aback, as if he had braced himself fully for rejection. "Then...first of all, yay!" His voice sounded anything but joyful. "But second of all, what's the conflict here? Because it's obvious that you're fighting something every step of the way, Derek. Is it — is it some sort of wolfy instinct thing?"
Derek felt like he had suddenly lost the thread of the conversation. "Wolfy what?"
"You know." Stiles gestured sharply in irritation. "If you're — if you're trying to spare my feelings about something, just — don't bother. I'd rather just know than get jerked around, and if you're fighting this because you want someone who can push out some wolfy pups for you, or someone who, you know —"
"What?" Derek's brain seemed to be lagging, trying to keep up with the leaps in Stiles' logic.
Stiles suddenly sank down on the sofa, biting his lip. "I mean, I'm not stupid. Someone like me would last all of five seconds in the whole 'nature red in tooth and claw' scenario. I can understand if you're having trouble with the idea of choosing a — " Stiles seemed to falter, but Derek heard the unspoken word clearly nonetheless. A mate. Stiles pulled in a deep breath, starting again. "If me being blind is the problem, if your wolf sees that as damaged, or whatever —"
And Derek couldn't bear to hear another word. "Fuck, Stiles. No! I mean, just — all of these things that you're thinking. They're all wrong." He moved closer, sitting beside Stiles despite the jangling tension that told him he would rather be pacing. "It's not — I want you, all of you, exactly as you are. But, it's not easy for me. I —"
He scrambled for a way to explain, a place to start. As much as his thoughts had spun last night, realizing that he would have to explain to Stiles somehow, now that the moment was here the words jammed up in his chest. His throat closed in panic, until all that escaped him was a low whine.
"Woah!" There was nothing in Stiles' face but concern now. "Take it easy, big guy. It's okay. Just...just breathe for a second."
Derek almost sobbed in relief, pulling in a shuddering breath.
"That's it," Stiles said, his hand finding Derek's, rubbing slow circles in the palm of it. Derek closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing — on Stiles warm and near him, his gentle touch. He felt some of the panic easing, his heartbeat steadying as they breathed in and out in silence.
"You okay?" Stiles asked.
Derek nodded, and then foolishly realized that Stiles couldn't see it. "Yeah," he said, his voice still rough and unsteady. "I want to tell you. I do. I just —" he pulled in another deep breath, trying to ease the constriction in his chest.
"Would you — do you want to text me instead?" Stiles suddenly asked.
Derek's hand instinctively tightened on Stiles' fingers. "Are you — are you leaving?"
"No, man. Of course not." Stiles squeezed Derek's hand back. "I just thought — sometimes it seems easier for you, you know? I'll stay right here. You can tell me, when you're ready, or if you want, you can — you know, write it instead."
Derek considered the idea. It seemed like another act of cowardice, but Stiles had offered so easily, he didn't seem to mind at all. And he was right, Derek did usually find it easier to text back and forth with Stiles, never as stuck for words or conscious of his awkward pauses as he was when they were in person.
Derek pulled his phone from his pocket, only now remembering that he had turned it completely off last night. It chimed as he turned it on, and then buzzed as a string of texts came through.
Are you okay?
Please, just let me know that you're okay.
Just let me know that you got home all right.
Derek stared at the texts, a lump rising in his throat. While he had been worried all night about how he had treated Stiles — how he would explain it to Stiles — Stiles had been worried about him.
"I'm sorry," Derek said, the words seeming almost meaningless with as often as he had said them since last night. "I turned my phone off."
"So I gathered." Stiles said. His hand was on Derek's thigh now, and he gave it an encouraging squeeze.
Derek stared down at the virtual keyboard of his phone, trying to figure out where to begin.
I've only slept with one person, a long time ago, Derek texted. And it was bad. He looked at the text for awhile, pressure rising up in his chest again. It seemed like such a stupid understatement, but he didn't know how else to start. He hit the send button before he could think about it any more.
Derek felt the buzz as Jarvis signaled the incoming text. Stiles had already set up the headphones, putting only one earbud in his ear. Even though the volume was set low, Derek could still hear Jarvis' precise voice repeating his words, his intonation neutral. It helped somehow, gave Derek a little distance from what he was saying.
Stiles remained quiet for awhile after listening to the text, his hand rubbing almost absent-mindedly over Derek's thigh. "How bad?" he finally asked softly.
Derek took a deep breath, his thumbs shaking as he typed out the next text. He knew how intuitive Stiles was, knew how quickly he would put it together.
She was a hunter.
Stiles drew in a sharp breath, his hand instinctively clenching where it rested on Derek's thigh.
"How long ago?" he asked, but something in his voice told Derek he already knew.
I was 15, Derek texted.
Stiles nodded once sharply, as if solidifying the information in his own mind. Derek could see his jaw clenching and releasing, as if he were fighting back anger, or possibly just more questions. Finally Stiles took a deep breath, and let it out, forcing some of the tension from his body. He tentatively reached out, placing his hand on Derek's chest, before slowly curling in closer against him. "Is — is this okay?" he asked.
"Yeah." Derek's voice was still hoarse and shaky, but something in his chest seemed to loosen as he pulled Stiles closer. Stiles nestled into the curve of Derek's body, resting his head on Derek's chest. Derek tangled a hand in Stiles' hair, nuzzling his nose into the top of Stiles' head, just breathing him in for awhile in relief. Stiles' familiar heartbeat thumped against Derek's ribs, helping to settle his jangling nerves.
"There's been no one since then?" Stiles finally asked. "No one-night stands, or — or hook-ups?"
Derek shook his head, knowing Stiles could feel it. He could feel the bolt of shock running through Stiles, could practically follow his thoughts as he calculated just how many years it had been.
Derek thought about texting again, but gathered his thoughts to speak instead. "We were grieving, and on the run for a long time. And then, remembering how it was with —" The name stuck in his throat for a minute, but then he forced it out. "With Kate, and what she did after — the thought of it just made me feel guilty, and sick. And then — after awhile, it had been so long it was just easier to not even consider it. The people who — who wanted me that way weren't people I wanted back anyway."
Derek could feel Stiles breathing a little too rapidly, his breath huffing warm against Derek's shirt. "I'm sorry I pushed you," Stiles suddenly said in a rush. "I figured — everyone says that you're so hot, and I just assumed that — that you were hooking up with people all the time, even if I kinda knew that you didn't do relationships much."
"You didn't — " Derek hesitated for moment, wanting desperately to get the words right. "I mean — I needed a push, because I didn't — I wasn't sure that you wanted that. But you didn't make me do anything I didn't want. I've wanted you for awhile now."
"Yeah?" Derek felt Stiles smile against his chest. "Me too." It shouldn't be such a big deal, just acknowledging it, but somehow it was. Derek felt another bit of tension leave him, knowing that he was allowed to feel that way, that Stiles wasn't creeped out by his attraction.
"It's good," Stiles seemed to be echoing Derek's thoughts out loud. "It's good that we both feel that way." He tangled his fingers in Derek's again, giving them a squeeze. "But we don't have to act on it, if you don't feel comfortable. I mean, there are people who stick to the — to the cuddles and stuff, and, um —" Stiles was starting to blush " — don't do, you know, the more. Um. Sexual stuff."
"No!" Derek's voice was overly loud, making them both flinch, but he couldn't help himself. All the things he wanted to do — to taste Stiles' skin and touch him all over and hear those incredible little noises he made in person instead of through the wall — the idea of losing all that now that he just found out he could have it was making him panic a little.
"I mean," he stumbled to clarify, "I want that — that other stuff too. I just — something about last night. The smell of perfume and where you were touching me and that woman said — she said something that Kate used to say, and that's — that's why. I. I'm sorry," he finished awkwardly. "I didn't know that was going to happen, but I shouldn't have left, and especially I shouldn't have left you there without getting you back to Scott. I just — I wasn't thinking straight."
"Hey." Stiles had both arms wrapped around Derek now, squeezing him tight. It should have made Derek feel claustrophobic, trapped, but instead it just made him feel...safe. Grounded. "I understand. It was the wrong way for us to get started, maybe. And I —" He pushed his face a little more firmly into Derek's chest. "I'm maybe not as experienced as I pretend to be. I mean, I dated some in college, but it never lasted more than a few dates with the same guy. So I've mostly done, um, just hand jobs, and the one time I tried to give a blow job the guy held my hair too tight and I freaked out a little and had to stop, and —"
"Stiles," Derek interrupted. "Breathe."
Stiles pulled in a deep breath. "Yeah. Okay." He laughed a little into Derek's chest. "I'm just saying — I don't mind taking it slow. And if there's anything you don't like, or anything you don't want to do, just tell me."
"That sounds good." And it really, really did. Looking back with the experience of age, it was so easy to see how coercive his relationship with Kate had been. If he tried to slow her down she would tell him not to be such a baby, tell him that she'd make him feel good. And afterwards he would keep telling himself that it had felt good, physically, even if something about it had felt wrong. That it was sexy that she wanted him so badly that she couldn't wait for him to catch up.
"You too," Derek made sure to say, pushing away the memories. "We can both do that."
"Yeah." It seemed impossible for Stiles to get closer but somehow he managed, breathing out a deep sigh and letting his body go boneless against Derek's. "I'm wiped out," he said with a yawn. "I couldn't sleep at all last night."
"Me too," Derek admitted. "Do you — will you stay here awhile longer? We could just watch t.v., and you can nap if you want to."
"Yeah," Stiles agreed. "I want to do that. Can we lie down? Not on the bed, I mean, just here."
"Yeah." Derek took in another breath, pushing himself to say more. "I really liked...when we did that before."
Stiles' smile was worth the effort, warm and bright. "Me too. For someone who is basically, like, a wall of muscle, you're surprisingly comfy."
It took a little while to get situated, Derek lying back and Stiles wiggling a little on top of him until he was curled up against Derek's side, his head nestled on Derek's shoulder, one leg thrown across Derek's thigh. Stiles wound his arm around Derek's waist, his hand sneaking in between the couch and Derek's back, rucking up Derek's shirt a little so he could place his palm flat against Derek's skin. "This okay?" Stiles asked, sounding half asleep already.
"Yeah." Derek pulled his own arm tighter around Stiles, sneaking his own hand under the hem of Stiles' shirt so he could feel his skin in return. "S'good." And it was even more amazing than Derek had remembered — the heavy, warm weight of Stiles on top of him, but this time without any doubts or confusion about what it might mean.
It was arousing to have Stiles this close, but it was a pleasant, low-level hum. Not the overwhelming tidal wave from last night, but rather a steady undercurrent, overlaid by the rush of comfort and affection Derek felt with Stiles' weight in his arms, surrounded by Stiles' scent. Knowing that Stiles wanted him, and was willing to be patient with him. Derek felt almost certain that he was going to fuck this up somehow, that there was no way it could be this easy, but he pushed the thoughts aside as best as he could, focusing on Stiles' steady breathing and the thump of his heart as he drifted into sleep.