When he returns home, he finds his wolf. It's tucked into it's usual spot, but he notices it immediately because of the green ribbon around his neck.
It's secured around his neck with a tag hanging off.
He doesn't really understand it. Why Stiles would bring the wolf back. Why he cares that Stiles did.
He picks up the wolf and takes the tag between two fingers, flipping it over. In Stiles' handwriting in black ink is eight letters.
Sourwolf.
And then, Derek knows what it means.
I don't need the wolf anymore, because you're back.
He sits on the bed for a long time, the stuffed wolf resting in his lap.
The phone on the bed buzzes with an incoming text, and he opens it without another thought.
"I can't sleep. Come over?"
It's from Stiles, and Derek replies without even hesitating.
"Okay."
It's not until he's sitting with his back against Stiles bed, a hand clasped in his, that he realises that it's not his phone.
He scrolls through the contacts, and the only one he doesn't see is his own.
There's an extra one though, labeled only with John.
He pauses before he scrolls through the text messages. Before Stiles, there is only one.
"Take care of yourself, kid. If you need anything, just ask."
And he then knows exactly who John is.