When Stiles and Derek reach Stiles' house, they quickly exit the jeep and go inside. When they enter they are immediately met with Stiles' father, who is sitting on the couch with the T.V. on. As the door closes, he turns toward Stiles and Derek, who are both standing timidly in the doorway.
Stiles' father stands, walking over to his son and Derek, coming to stand in front of them.
"Derek." Stiles' father states amiably, reaching out to shake Derek's hand. Derek grips the proffered hand firmly.
"Mr. Stilinski." Derek acknowledges with a nod. The Sheriff laughs lightly in response.
"Please, call me John." John releases Derek's hand, smiling warmly at the werewolf.
"Of course." Derek replies, returning the Sheriff's smile.
"Anyway, I have the guest room all set up for you. It's the room right next to Stiles'."
"Thank you; You have no idea how much this means to me."
"It's no problem, really." John waves his hand, dismissing Derek's concern. "You're probably tired, so you should go ahead up to your room. We can talk more later."
"You're right. Thank you, again."
With that, Derek walks upstairs, Stiles following close behind him.
"Stiles, wait for a second." Derek and Stiles share a look, Stiles' eyes conveying small amounts of worry. Derek smiles, shakes his head, and gestures at him with a shooing motion, before retreating the rest of the way up the stairs.
Stiles turns and walks over to his dad, stopping in front of him and saying, "Yeah, what's up?" Stiles begins fidgeting with his fingers, expecting to be yelled at.
John places a gentle hand on his son's shoulder and looks him in the eye, smiling warmly. "Next time, just tell me before you go out gallivanting at one in the morning, okay?"
Stiles heaves out a relieved sigh, chuckling to himself as his anxiety fades away. "Yeah, okay dad."
John pulls Stiles into a hug, which Stiles immediately reciprocates. After a moment, he pulls away, keeping his hands on Stiles' arms as he inspects his son's face. "You look exhausted. Go get some sleep."
"Thanks, dad. I'll see you in the morning." Stiles turns to walk away before stopping and looking back at his father. "I love you, dad."
"I love you too, Stiles."
Stiles smiles and continues walking up the stairs, taking a last minute detour to Derek's room when he hears the werewolf moving around behind the door.
Stiles knocks politely, calling out a whispered, "Derek," so the man knows who's at the door. Stiles hears socked footsteps padding across the room before the door opens, revealing a shirtless Derek on the other side. Stiles gulps and does his best to control his wandering eyes. He quickly fixes his gaze upon Derek's face, noticing the content look Derek is sporting. Stiles grins.
"Hey, just wanted to make sure you have everything you need."
"Yeah, I think so." Derek replies to Stiles' query, one side of his lips quirking up into a soft smile. "Thank you for offering to let me stay. I-" Derek cuts himself off, his face deep in thought as he turns his eyes to the floor. He eventually decides to finish his statement. "I'm glad it was you who offered to let me stay. I'm the most comfortable with you." Derek blushes. Yes, you heard me, the Derek Hale blushes. Stiles marks this as a miracle that deserves to go down in the history books. To be fair though, Stiles is blushing too.
"Yeah, Der, of course. For the record, I feel comfortable with you too."
"Good." Derek states definitively, almost as if he knows something that Stiles doesn't. But, miraculously, Stiles decides not to pry. Wow, he must really be tired if he's not even committing to snooping in other people's lives. Either that, or he just respects Derek's boundaries and trusts the man to tell Stiles when he's ready. 'What is it about Derek Hale that makes me act and think so differently?' Stiles wonders, deciding that he won't stop until he finds the answer to that question.
Stiles realizes that Derek is now standing rather awkwardly in the doorway, his gaze flitting around the space, looking at anything but Stiles' face.
Stiles coughs. "Well, uh, goodnight then. I'll see you in the morning." Stiles turns to leave, but is stopped before he can go anywhere.
'Stiles, wait!" Derek says, frantic and vulnerable.
"Yeah?" Stiles turns back around to face Derek.
"I- I really did miss you, you know? I thought about you a lot. Honestly…" Derek pauses briefly, carefully considering his next words. "You were the one I regretted leaving the most. And you were the biggest reason why I came back." Derek blushes again-which is practically impossible for Stiles to process-and looks at Stiles with wide, vulnerable eyes. At this moment, Stiles feels tears brimming in his eyes. Derek is never this open with his emotions, and the fact that it is Stiles that he's opening up to sends the teen reeling.
"Alright, come here." Stiles says, opening his arms and walking forward into the doorway. Derek jerks forward, wrapping Stiles in a firm hug, squeezing as if he never wants to let Stiles go. Derek burrows his nose into Stiles' spiky hair, inhaling deeply while Stiles does the same to Derek's neck. Stiles feels Derek grip the back of his shirt tightly and he sighs as he feels himself relax into Derek's hold. "I'm really glad you're back, Derek." Stiles whispers into the crook of Derek's neck.
'Yeah, me too." Derek replies before reluctantly releasing Stiles. They make eye contact for a few seconds, the action much more intimate that it should be, before saying goodnight.
Derek watches as Stiles retreats to his bedroom, Stiles' scent still heavy around him. As Stiles closes the door to his room, Derek sighs softly and closes his eyes.
"I love you, Stiles," is the last thing Derek says before closing his door and settling down to sleep.
When Stiles wakes up, he opens his eyes to see light streaming in through his window. He stretches his legs toward the foot of the bed, grunting, before looking over to the digital clock resting on his bedside table. When he sees that it's 8:00, he momentarily panics, flinging himself out of bed with a yelled "Oh shit" and landing firmly on his ass next to his bed. While he's sitting on the floor and contemplating his existence (as one does when they do something stupid) he slowly comes to the realization that it is, in fact, Saturday, which means that he is not, if fact, late to school.
"I'm an idiot." Stiles says, rather loudly, to himself, rubbing a hand down his face as he rolls his eyes.
"I'm not disagreeing with you!" Stiles starts as he hears Derek's voice yell through the door.
"Oi!" Stiles shouts, rising to his feet and stomping over to open his door in mock anger. "No one asked you, Sourwolf." Stiles scowls, trying his best not to laugh.
"No one had to." Derek smirks playfully at Stiles, his eyes falling briefly to Stiles' bare chest. Suddenly, Stiles is painfully aware of his current state of undress and he immediately starts to feel uncomfortable, folding his arms over his chest and hunching over slightly. Derek only chuckles and slowly averts his eyes, instead locking his intense gaze upon Stiles' face.
Stiles takes a moment to take in Derek's appearance. He's no longer shirtless, but Stiles notices that he's wearing the same shirt as yesterday. Now that he thinks about it, Derek didn't have anything with him when they found him, other than the clothes on his back, that is. 'Well, I guess a shopping trip is in order.' Stiles muses.
He then shifts his gaze upwards, taking in Derek's sharply defined collarbones and prominent jawline. 'Yeah,' Stiles thinks, 'I could definitely get used to this picture in the mornings.' Stiles continues his assessment, noticing that Derek's hair is sticking out at odd angles. And wow, Derek's bedhead has absolutely no right to be that adorable.
"You need the bathroom before I take a shower?" Okay, that is definitely not a visual that Stiles needs, despite how much he enjoys it. Stiles is snapped from his thoughts by an incline of Derek's eyebrow, prompting Stiles to answer his question.
"Uh, no, I'm good. I'll go downstairs." Stiles flaps a hand at Derek as he speaks before walking downstairs, leaving Derek to take his shower.
Derek walks downstairs and is immediately met with the smell of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. He makes his way into the kitchen, leaning his back against the wall as he watches Stiles flit from one task to another, flipping pancakes and periodically checking on the eggs and bacon.
After a few minutes, when Stiles still hasn't recognized his presence, Derek sighs and clears his throat, earning Stiles' attention and a dramatic flail for his efforts.
"Derek! Come on, man, we've talked about this! We do not sneak up on the human because the human is fragile and breakable, and can therefore have a heart attack when startled!" Stiles chastises, waving a plastic spatula at Derek's face as he rambles. The sight is quite amusing, Stiles' hair is messy from sleep and he's still not wearing a shirt, and Derek finds it impossible to stifle his laughter. Stiles gives Derek an affronted look, shocked that he'd laugh when Stiles was just talking about his death.
"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's just-" Derek let's out another cough of laughter before continuing. "Look at yourself right now, Stiles! You look ridiculous!"
Stiles looks down at himself, evaluating his appearance and coming to the conclusion that Derek is completely right. He does look absolutely ridiculous. The only thing missing is a frilly, pink apron. He lets out a huff of laughter before joking, "Yeah, ridiculously sexy." Stiles smirks and winks, flipping his nonexistent hair over his shoulder.
Stiles' comment sobers Derek considerably. "Yeah, actually." Derek states, his eyes meeting Stiles' and the two just stare at each other in shock. Neither of them were expecting what just came out of Derek's mouth. After a minute of awkward silence, Stiles coughs nervously and starts to do what he does best: Change the subject.
"So… Pancakes?" Okay, so maybe that isn't the most elegant transition, but give him a break! Derek just dropped a major bombshell on everything Stiles believed to be true about their relationship. It's safe to say that his amazing skills of deflection are going to be a bit "off" for a little while.
"Definitely pancakes." Derek seems just as eager to change the subject as Stiles does, which is definitely a relief. Stiles is so not ready to delve into his… feelings for Derek? He doesn't actually know what he's feeling if he's being honest with himself. Yeah, you don't have to say it, he definitely needs to get his shit together. It's on the list. He'll get to it… Eventually…
Stiles returns his attention to the food he's preparing, taking the pancakes off the griddle and plating the eggs and bacon. He gives himself two pancakes and gives Derek three, keeping in mind that werewolves have a heightened appetite.
Stiles takes the plates to the kitchen table, which is seldom used for eating, and sets them down across from each other. He takes his seat and Derek follows suit, thanking Stiles for the meal before digging in.
Stiles holds off on eating until he sees Derek's reaction to the food. He takes pride in his cooking and he always waits for confirmation that what he's prepared is acceptable from the people he's feeding before he eats himself, just in case he needs to rush back to the kitchen to fix something else, which rarely happens. He's been cooking since he was five years old. In fact, it's something he and his mother used to do together. As such, the activity has always held a special place in his heart, especially after his mother's death.
"I had no idea that pancakes could taste this good." Derek practically moans, shoving another bite in his mouth.
"What can I say, I'm magic!" Stiles puts up jazz hands at the end of his statement for dramatic effect, grinning at Derek, who deadpans as soon as the words leave Stiles' mouth.
"That was awful. You and puns do not work well together." Derek states, not lacking humor.
"Okay, fine. It's not my fault that you lack the necessary sense of humor to understand my genius." Stiles teases, beginning to eat his own food. He hears Derek chuckle fondly, but the man gives no other response.
The rest of the meal passes in a comfortable silence, and soon Stiles and Derek are rinsing off their plates and putting them in the dishwasher.
Stiles busies himself with cleaning up the mess he's made in the kitchen, putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wiping off the counter.
"So, I was thinking we could go shopping today. I noticed that you don't have anything else to wear." Stiles suggests as he throws away the paper towel he was using to clean the counter.
"That sounds good. When?"
Stiles turns and looks thoughtfully at Derek. "Right now works for me. I actually have nothing to do this weekend. I'll need to call Scott at some point, but that can wait."
"Well, I'll have to check my schedule, but I'm sure I can work it into my incredibly busy day." Derek smirks, and Stiles rolls his eyes fondly at Derek's sarcasm.
"Aw, did Sourwolf just crack a joke?" Stiles snarks.
Derek grumbles at the nickname, but doesn't verbally object to it. Which is definitely progress. That means that Stiles is winning. 'Fantastic.'
"Just let me change and grab my shit, then we can go." Stiles retreats up the stairs to get dressed, leaving Derek in the kitchen.
"Derek, I've got it! This one's perfect!" Stiles holds up a shirt for Derek to inspect, grinning madly as Derek's expression turns into an annoyed grimace.
"Stiles, that's a girl's shirt." Derek growls, glaring at the pink monstrosity being held up in front of him.
"Oh, come on, Der! Look, it says "Hang In There!" And there's a cat! You can't say no to those eyes, Derek." Stiles peaks his head around the shirt, a pout forming on his lips, his eyes going wide.
Derek groans. As much as he hates to admit it, Stiles is right. He can't say no to those eyes. However, Stiles doesn't have to know that it's his eyes Derek can't say no to, not the cat's.
"Fine, but you're paying for it." Derek grumbles.
"Yes!" Stiles shouts, drawing the attention of the other customers in the store. Derek quickly shushes him.
"Hush, people are staring."
"Let them stare. This is one of the top three best moments of my life. I'm with you, and I'm about to see you wear a pink cat shirt with a stereotypical inspirational phrase on it. I think I'm entitled to celebrate as I see fit." Stiles snarks, and Derek freezes at Stiles' words. Despite his sarcasm, Derek can tell that Stiles is serious about this being one of the best moments of his life. His scent didn't change and his heartbeat didn't stutter. He was being completely truthful, and Derek can't help the swell of pride and affection that fills every fiber of his being at Stiles' easy proclamation.
He quickly hides his feelings though, and replies with a gruff, "Yeah, whatever you say, Stiles." He rolls his eyes and walks over to the counter, hefting the large stack of clothes he's purchasing over his arm.
Stiles chuckles and follows closely behind, shaking his head and smiling affectionately at Derek's back.
They reach the check out desk and Derek sets his clothes up on the counter. The girl behind the desk quickly gets to work on scanning the items and removing the anti-theft clips. When she's finished, she gives Derek his total and Derek hands her his credit card. Once Derek has his card back and his clothes are all bagged, he picks them up and steps aside so Stiles can come up to the counter.
The girl stops in her tracks as Stiles steps up and comes into her view. A sultry smile paints its way across her face and she narrows her eyes seductively as she looks Stiles up and down. Stiles, of course, is oblivious to the girl's intentions as he cheerfully places the pink shirt on the counter, throwing a greeting at the girl. Derek, on the other hand, definitely notices. It takes everything in his power not to growl at the girl and drag Stiles from the store. The only thing that stops him from doing this is the realization that Stiles is not, in fact, his. And therefore, he has no right to be jealous, especially over something as innocent as this. Stiles is allowed to do whatever he wants with whoever he wants to do it with, and Derek just has to accept that.
"Hey, I love that shirt. Nice choice!" The girl chirps, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously at Stiles. "My name's Amanda, by the way."
"That you, Amanda. At least someone here knows what cutting edge fashion looks like." Stiles playfully glances at Derek, sticking out his tongue at the wolf. Derek doesn't react, his mind still too caught up in the task of keeping himself from making a scene in the middle of Marshall's. Stiles turns back to the cashier, who has now been identified as Amanda, and smiles brightly. Amanda practically drools, and Derek clenches his fists, feeling his claws digging into the soft flesh of his palms.
"Well, someone has to keep the fashion peasants in line. Why do you think I work in clothing retail?" Amanda snarks with a smile on her face and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Stiles laughs heartily, and Derek notices that Amanda looks more than pleased with herself.
"So true. To quote Glinda, 'When someone needs a makeover, I simply have to take over.'" Stiles chuckles with mirth, and Amanda starts bouncing with glee.
"Holy shit, I love Wicked! I went to see it on Broadway last year and it was absolutely amazing!" Amanda gushes enthusiastically.
"That is so cool! You lucky bitch! I would literally sell my soul to see Wicked on Broadway." Stiles whines, light-hearted jealousy creeping into his tone.
"Well, I can't condone any soul selling rituals in the store, but there's a great, big, free world outside of Marshall's, where you can sell your soul to your heart's content." Amanda says humorously.
Stiles barks out a laugh, doubling over as he chuckles. "You-" Stiles is cut off as another laugh escapes his lips. "You are amazing. Holy fuck, we should totally hang out sometime." Once Stiles finishes speaking, Amanda's face lights up. Derek can practically hear her screaming "success" and "mission accomplished" in her head. He fights the urge to throw up the McDonalds he ate earlier.
"That sounds awesome! Here…" Amanda picks up the shirt on the counter and hastily scans it, giving Stiles the total and printing out the receipt once Stiles fishes out the appropriate amount of money from his pocket and gives it to. She takes a pen from the pen cup sitting next to her and writes her name and phone number in a neat print on the back of the receipt, handing it over to him once she's finished with a grin. "That's my number. Text me sometime so I know it's you. Oh! What's your name? I can't believe I forgot to ask."
"Stiles Stilinski, at your service." Stiles salutes sarcastically before folding up the receipt with Amanda's number on it and sliding it carefully into his back pocket.
"Well then, Stiles Stilinski, it was fantastic meeting you." Amanda salutes back before handing Stiles his bag, giggling as Stiles says goodbye to her.
The moment Stiles finishes his farewell, Derek grabs him and drags him, perhaps a bit too roughly, out of the store and back into the main part of the mall.
"Dude, what's your problem?!" Stiles squawks, pulling his arm free from Derek's iron grip.
Derek flinches at Stiles' tone. He hadn't meant to be so harsh with his actions when getting Stiles out of the store, but he was just so frustrated at Amanda for flirting with Stiles, and at Stiles for unknowingly flirting back. By the end of Stiles' and Amanda's encounter, the only thing he and his wolf could think about was getting Stiles out and away from Amanda, and making sure that no one ever flirts with Stiles again. Once again, Derek reminds himself that he and Stiles are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. And yeah, Derek can't help but hope that someday he and Stiles will be something more, but he's too much of a coward to speak up and make a move. 'What if he doesn't feel the same? He'll reject me. I'll ruin everything.' Derek thinks to himself. Because, most of all, he can't stand the thought of losing Stiles entirely. He loves Stiles with everything he has, even though he doesn't entirely understand why, and he never wants to live a life without Stiles in it. It would kill him. 'No,' he affirms, 'I won't do anything to risk my relationship with Stiles. I'd rather have him like this, than not have him at all.'
Derek snaps out of his thoughts, realizing that Stiles is still angrily staring at him, arms crossed over his chest as he awaits Derek's reply.
"Nothing, sorry. There was just a strange scent in there. It was making me nervous. I didn't mean to be that rough." Derek casts his head downward in embarrassment, biting at his lip nervously.
Stiles sighs, dropping his arms heavily to his sides. "It's fine, Der. Just remember this for next time: The human is 147 pounds of frail skin and fragile bone. Therefore, the human bruises easily. Just be gentler next time, bug guy."
"Okay." Derek raises his head, smiling shyly at Stiles, whose gaze has softened considerably now that Derek has apologized and explained himself.
"So, shoes and then home?"
"Yeah, shoes and home sounds nice." Derek replies softly, ignoring the flutter in his stomach at Stiles' use of the word "home".
Later that night, Stiles, Derek, and John are sitting in the living room eating dinner and watching T.V.. Stiles is sitting on the floor, his body leaning against Derek's leg as he eats.
Stiles had convinced his father to put on Supernatural after hearing that Derek has never seen it. So far, Derek has just been critiquing the show, pointing out the flaws in the show's lore. Apparently Wendigos can only mimic human appearance, and not a human voice, unlike in Supernatural. Stiles files this information away in his "Possibly Useful Information" folder. What? You never know when you're going to encounter a crazy, cannibalistic monster during a casual stroll through the woods. It never hurts to be prepared.
By the time they get through episode three, everyone has finished eating, and it's obvious that Stiles is beginning to get restless. John notices his son's fidgeting and picks up the remote, pausing the show. The frame on the T.V. is now fixed on a hilariously unflattering picture of Jensen Ackles. Stiles can't help but laugh at the sight.
Stiles looks up from his position on the floor, his head shifting against Derek's leg as he turns to look at his father. He quirks an eyebrow at his father, who looks at Stiles and his current position against Derek's leg fondly. Derek may be quite a bit older that Stiles, but Stiles is almost eighteen, which means that he's entitled to make his own decisions and judgements when it comes to relationships. And John can't help but approve of his choice, even if Stiles hasn't realized that he's made it yet. Derek is a good guy; Trustworthy, loyal, protective. John couldn't ask for a better partner for his son.
"How do you guys feel about board games?" John asks, deciding that a family game night is definitely a necessity at the moment.
Stiles jumps up, flailing as he loses his balance. He's only saved from face planting in Derek's lap by the wolf's quick reflexes. Derek's hands are now firmly grasping at Stiles biceps, steadying the clumsy teen. Stiles blushes a deep red and stammers out a thank you, pulling out of Derek's grasp as he realizes that his father is in the room. 'Yeah, let's not be sexually frustrated in front of my dad. Talk about mortifying.'
John watches the interaction with a tender expression on his face, reflecting on his earlier train of thought. 'Yeah, I definitely support his decision.' John shakes his head, clearing his thoughts for the moment and rising into a standing position.
Derek heaves himself to his feet too and the three of them walk in a cluster over to the Stilinki's game cabinet.
After a moment of perusal, John asks, "So, what's the verdict?"
Derek shrugs and Stiles scoffs, punching Derek in the arm before turning back to their wide selection of games. Finally, about half-way across the second shelf, Stiles finds the perfect game.
"Perfect!" Stiles declares, reaching out and plucking the game from the shelf. He presents the game to Derek and his father, holding it out in front of himself proudly, grinning widely.
Derek squints at the game box as he attempts to decipher the title. Stiles' father chuckles at Stiles' choice.
"Castles of Mad King Ludwig?" Derek reads confusedly, making Stiles grin even wider. "It sounds… Interesting…" Derek adds, hesitant. And can you really blame him? Stiles is the one who picked it out. And well, Stiles is Stiles, after all. One can never know what to expect when it comes to the hyperactive teen.
"Precisely! Come on, you're gonna love it." Stiles hurries over to the kitchen table, opening the box and beginning to set up the game with practiced ease.
John and Derek linger beside the game shelf, the Sheriff noticing Derek's hesitance. "Relax, son. It's a good game. Entertaining, to say the least."
With that said, John leads Derek over to the table where Stiles is still setting up. Derek is still reeling from the Sheriff's use of the word son when addressing him. It makes him happier than he cares to admit, the emotion violently surging through him, sending his world spinning for a moment. Derek smiles as he sits down next to Stiles, watching as father and son bicker light-heartedly about the right way to arrange the tiles and tokens.'This is home.' He decides, the realization shocking him to his core while simultaneously sending a feeling of rightness coursing through his veins.
"Alright!" Stiles' voice pulls Derek from his thoughts. "Now, you'll have to bear with me here. This is one of our newest games, so we've only played it a few times. Let's just say that the rulebook will be our best friend for the next hour or so." Stiles finishes and reaches for the rulebook, opening it with a dramatic flourish, sending John and Derek snickering at his antics. Stiles takes a few moments to skim through the rules, reassuring his understanding of how the game works. "Okay, so basically, we choose someone to be the first Master Builder. His task is to draw room cards equal to the number of empty spaces on the Contract Board, and then place the Room Tiles that correspond to the room sizes drawn. He then chooses the price of each room, including rooms that were already in play at the beginning of the round.
"After the Master Builder does this, each other player, starting from the player to the left on the Master Builder, chooses one of the priced Room Tiles or a Hallway or Stairs and pays the Master Builder the value on the Contract Board directly above the room they're purchasing.
"A player can pass on their turn. If they do this, they gain 5000 coins, leaving the Master Builder to gain nothing. The Master Builder takes his turn the same way.
"If a room is not bought from the Contract Board by the end of the round, a 1000 coin is taken from the Bank and placed on the tile, along with any other coins that may have built up on the tile. The total number of coins on a selected tile is kept by the player selecting the tile, and may be used to purchase that tile.
"Rooms that have been purchased are placed in the buyer's castle and immediately scored. Then, the Master Builder role shifts one player to the left."
Stiles finishes explaining the rules, setting the rulebook down on the table beside him. "So, any questions?"
John shakes his head and Derek replies with a confident, "No."
"Alright. There are some other components, but we can go over those as we run into them while we play." Stiles explains, glancing back and forth between his father and Derek.
"I vote Stiles as the first Master Builder. He seems to be less lost than we are." John comments.
"Hey! You told me that you didn't have any questions!" Stiles complains, sending his father laughing at his son's dramatic personality.
"Nevermind that. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" John says, smiling as Stiles grumbles half-heartedly. Derek smiles right along with the elder man.
With that, Stiles reaches across the table to pull a Room Tile from the stack. And so, the game begins.
Stiles re enters the room after talking with Scott for a few minutes. Derek is lounging on the couch, looking adorably grumpy, as usual. Just don't tell Derek that Stiles thinks that. That would surely mean a one way ticket to throat-ripped-out land.
Stiles walks slowly over to the couch, flopping down onto the cushions and hefting his feet up and onto Derek's lap. The werewolf gives him a look that says, "Really?" but Derek makes no move to remove Stiles' socked feet from his lap.
Stiles' father had gone to bed a half-hour ago, leaving Stiles and Derek downstairs in the living room.
"Nice job on the game, dude. I can't believe that you won on your first time playing." Stiles whines, flopping his head back over the couch's arm rest, looking at the ceiling.
"What can I say? I'm just that good."
"Bullshit. I'm so going to kick your ass next time." Stiles counters confidently, digging his heels into Derek's thigh briefly before releasing the pressure.
A comfortable silence lapses over the room, both males reflecting on the day. Unknown to them, they are both thinking along the same lines. They're thinking that today was the most at ease they've felt in a really long time, that something seems to have clicked into place today. And, deep down, they're thinking that they've finally found what was missing in their lives.
"Do you know why we play board games?" Stiles asks quietly. If it weren't for Derek's werewolf hearing, he may have missed the question entirely. Derek rolls his head to the side so he can look at Stiles.
"Why?"
Stiles raises his head from its upside down position over the armrest and scoots down a bit so his head is resting on it instead of over it. He then fixes his gaze on Derek, his eyes taking on a wistful sheen.
"My mom. She always insisted on having family game night. She always found the weirdest games for us to play. Those are some of my favorite memories of her. The smile on her face, her voice reading out the rules, and her patience when I got frustrated because I didn't get it. That's why I make an effort to find the most outlandish board games I can find. Because I know she'd love every single one of them. It's one of the ways dad and I respect her memory; It's one of the ways we keep her alive, you know?"
By the time Stiles has finished speaking, he is tearing up, overwhelmed by his emotions. He's never shared that with anyone, not even Scott, and he's not entirely sure why he decided to share it with Derek. Probably because he understands what loss feels like. It's guaranteed that he won't judge him, or think he's weird for wanting to keep her memory alive in such a way.
Stiles feels Derek lift his feet from his lap, and he hears him shuffle over to kneel in front of Stiles. "I get it. It's okay, Stiles. It's okay to miss her." Derek whispers, his tone soft as he reaches out to wipe away Stiles' tears.
Stiles gives a watery smile at Derek's words, sniffing and shifting on the couch so he can grab Derek in a firm hug, burying his face in Derek's soft hair. Derek nuzzles at Stiles' collarbone, squeezing him tightly. "Thank you, Sourwolf." Stiles murmurs into Derek's hair, giving one last squeez before letting him go.
Stiles sniffs again and wipes at his eyes. Derek takes Stiles' shaking hands in his, meeting Stiles' emotional gaze. "Anytime, Stiles. I know you'd do the same for me."
Stiles nods, smiling and letting out a soft chuckle before saying, "Come on, let's go to bed. Scott wants to have a pack meeting at 10:00 tomorrow morning."
Stiles gets up from the couch and Derek rises from the floor, embracing Stiles once more before agreeing with him and ascending the stairs to his room. He watches as Stiles enters his room. He makes a decision as the door closes, the thought ringing out in his mind.
'I'm done being a coward.'
A/N: So, I know I said this was only going to be two chapters, but I really suck at this so expect two or three more after this. Oops?
Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you continue to read this story! Please don't hesitate to leave comments!
Much Love,
RavenGrey2107