sexpollensterek

by Suicide44

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52. jjdnd

Preface

If We Could MatchPosted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/3239210.

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Teen Wolf (TV)

Relationship:

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Character:

Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Kira Yukimura, Scott McCall, Alan Deaton

Additional Tags:

Soul Mate AU, Human AU, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Human, actor!derek, Personal Assistant Stiles Stilinski, Actor Derek, Soul Bond, Panic Attacks, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Hurt Stiles, Car Accidents, Explicit Sexual Content

Collections:

Sterek, Fin

Stats:

Published: 2015-01-27 Completed: 2015-02-28 Chapters: 9/9 Words: 23455

If We Could Match

by forestofbabel

Summary

As Stiles waits behind the camera during an interview, he thinks he should maybe quit. Because, in all honesty, despite the charming smile the actor is pulling out for EW, Derek Hale is kind of a jerk.

Notes

Soul-mate birthmark AU that's also a celebrity AU. I've read a couple of them and I just had to do my own.

See the end of the work for more notes

Chapter 1

Derek Hale wasn't the most famous guy, but he was still a very well-known actor. He still has 26k twitter followers and he can't go to the grocery store without pictures appearing on Tumblr and sometimes US Weekly. Derek Hale had a tight schedule, always filming or promoting something or filming or having dinner with one of his sisters in the few scheduled nights off he could get, or filming. About every month Derek Hale got 400 fan letters that were specifically pictures of people's mate-marks in hopes that they matched their celebrity crush.

Stiles had to sort through all the mail. He never gave Derek the mate-mark photos because when Stiles had become Derek's assistant he had been abundantly clear he wasn't interested. It was two years ago that Derek's old assistant, Isaac Lahey, left in a screaming fit, but not storming out before referring Stiles as replacement. (Isaac was dating Stiles's best friend Scott at the time and Scott, bless his dumb face, had made Isaac refer him even though Isaac and Stiles always butt heads.) And now, as Stiles waits behind the camera during an interview, he thinks he should maybe quit. Because, in all honesty, despite the charming smile the actor is pulling out for EW, Derek Hale is kind of a jerk.

The interviewer gave his closing remarks and they thanked each other for being there and someone yelled cut and then Derek Hale was up and storming past where Stiles sat. "Where's the car?"

Stiles stood and followed behind him, keeping his nose to his tablet. "Already outside waiting."

"Coffee?"

"You're not supposed to have caffeine with this new diet pill you insisted on."

"Coffee." Derek repeated, snapping a bit.

Stiles sighed. "You're meeting Erica and Boyd for lunch. You can order coffee there."

"Why do I keep you around?" Derek mused, pushing the back door to the sound stage open.

"Good question. You'd forget your own birthday without an assistant, but really, you could hire someone else."

Derek's feet paused for a split second before looking over his shoulder at Stiles and climbing into the back of the car. Stiles followed him as Derek scooted to the further seat.

"I thought you were supposed to say something like 'no one else knows what food to buy you when you're sick' or 'because I can get you to stop working out when you're on a roll'," Derek said a bit flippantly.

"Then maybe you already know why you keep me around," Stiles rolled his eyes, pulling up an email from Lydia, Derek's PR Manager. Stiles responded with how the interview went, not bothering to ask Derek his opinion. "Erica and Boyd want to ask you about a new movie they're putting together. Be nice."

"Be nice," Derek scoffed. "Right."

Back when they were nobodies, Derek had really helped Erica and Boyd get their foot in the door. They subsequently screwed him out of a role when Erica decided to rewrite it for a woman, earning Kali what's her face her first Oscar nom. Stiles persists that had the role been a guy the script wouldn't have been half as good and the film wouldn't have gotten any Oscar attention so Derek should stop being so bitter about it. Derek was the king of holding grudges.

"I'm serious, Hale. I looked over the pitch already. You should consider working with them." Their last film had gotten more attention in the big award circuit, Boyd winning Best Director at the Golden Globes and nominated at the SAG and Academy awards. "They're big stuff and you've been doing action movies for the last 4 years. Change it up."

"You're not my agent, Stiles," Derek snapped, his angry eyebrows making an appearance. Stiles rolled his eyes. It had been a long time since any of Derek's anger had scared him. The looks of pure outrage were actually kind of endearing. "Don't tell me what to do."

Stiles had to laugh at that. "That's all I ever do. Where to go, what to wear, when to eat."

"Stiles!" Derek nearly roared. It was actually kind of funny getting Derek riled up when he wasn't threating bodily harm.

"Look," Stiles said, actually bothering to look up from the digital planner to catch Derek's eye. "This semi-feud thing with Erica and Boyd is ridiculous. I may not have been your assistant back then, but I was around and I know that you were really good friends and I can tell that you miss them. Do a project, repair bridges, be in a great film to boost your career, and make lots of money. Or don't. Alienate yourself from one of the hottest screenwriting/directing pairs in the business, continue doing this spy soldier series that has been done a million times, pray for DC to ask you to be the new Batman but always know you'll lose it to someone with a bigger name than you. I don't care." Stiles went back to his tablet before adding: "Oh, and Scott said that they asked Kira to come on as cinematographer, if that makes any difference to you. She's probably going to say yes."

Kira, Scott's current girlfriend, was phenomenal behind the camera, even if she was big enough she was almost never actually using the cameras anymore.

There was a tense silence in the car as they drove for another few seconds, the driver giving worried glances between the two men through the rearview mirror. Stiles was honestly surprised his little rant hadn't spurred some kind of intelligible garble of seething anger out of Derek. Normally, when Stiles spoke out of turn, Derek shut him down quick. But today… today Stiles just didn't care anymore. Zero fucks given.

Maybe he should call Lydia. Ask to be her assistant again, even if it meant a pay cut. The car pulled up to the side entrance and Derek got out. Two seconds later the door opened again, Derek poking his head in. "Aren't you coming?"

"Reservation is for three," Stiles distractedly while coordinating a last minute photo op with Caged that Lydia had approved.

The door to the town car slammed shut and Stiles told the driver to bring him through whatever drive through was closest and to order whatever he wanted plus two burgers and a large fries.

"He's going to snap your neck one of these days," the driver said with a smirk.

"Let him. Lydia will cut off his balls."

The driver laughed. Stiles rubbed at his eyes. It was going to be a long day.

Stiles was sitting in the back of the car, munching away on his fries while trying not to make his touch screen greasy when a phone call came in from Lydia. He clicked the button on his Bluetooth and answered with a simple "Stiles."

"I don't know what you said but thank you. Erica Reyes just texted me saying Derek expressed interest in doing their film."

"I didn't do anything," Stiles scoffed, pulling up his email and calendar. "But I'll schedule an appointment between VB3 and Derek's agent to get the details sorted."

"I'm serious though," Lydia said. "He only really listens to you."

"I don't know, Lyds. I'm thinking of quitting. I mean, the guy treats me like his butler, which is not my job description. The guy's an asshole and after two years it's getting to be a bit much."

"He's not that bad."

Stiles shook his head, even though no one was watching. "Before me, the longest assistant Derek ever had was Isaac, who only lasted six months. He's a spoiled brat who grew up rich and privileged and stayed rich and privileged and it taught him he can be a jerk to whoever he wants. Dude doesn't even have any friends since he kicked Erica and Boyd to the curb."

"Yeah but that may be rectified with this movie."

"Let's hope so," Stiles sighed. "If I leave, Derek will probably lose his head as someone else tries to figure out his schedule." The driver knocked lightly on the glass between the front and back, indicating that Derek was coming. "Gotta go. I'll see you at the team meeting next week?" Once a month all of Derek's industry personnel got together to make sure they were all on the same page.

"Yeah. I'm just thankful Derek doesn't have any image clearing to work on. I'm all tied up with rebranding Braeden after her accident. She's too good of an actress not to work just because she's covered in scars."

"Good luck. Talk to her agent about getting her some cool sci-fi gig where she's covered in prosthetics anyway."

"That's what I was thinking. Bye Stiles."

"Bye."

Stiles hung up just as the door opened and Derek slid in. The car was off as soon as Derek had his seat belt on.

"What's next?" Derek huffed, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Back to the loft. You have to finish packing for New York. Flight is tomorrow afternoon but you have a 5 o'clock call for a night shoot with Criminal Minds. You'll probably be there 'til midnight and you're going to want to sleep in tomorrow."

"Right."

Stiles rolled his eyes, looking over the day's itinerary. He was really kind of getting sick of this. Derek never talked to him. And it wasn't just Derek was naturally quiet outside of interviews like V. Boyd or super shy like Kira Yukimura or socially cautious and insanely polite like Allison Argent. Derek just didn't talk to him. Not conversationally. It made being his assistant feel like slave labor instead of employment, as if Stiles wasn't even a person because Derek was paying him to be there. Derek chatted kindly with the makeup crews and his costars and yelled at anyone who threw off his groove. Derek should be a llama. Would serve him right. Instead, Derek just made Stiles feel like some gnat he had to put up with rather than a quintessential part of Derek's job and life.

And sure, Stiles may sound narcissistic for saying so, but he needs attention and validation. He's only human.

It also didn't help that despite how much of a jerk wad Derek could be, Stiles was irrevocably in love with him.

He was never someone to believe in the birthmarks as something special. Sure, it's supposed to indicate your soul mate, but before the internet it was near impossible to find your match. Even with dating sites now where people post pictures of just their mate-mark and the database tries to find its match, most people are still of the mind that soul mates are rare and date whoever you want. Like his own parents. Their marks hadn't matched in the slightest, but they were a perfect couple. And then there's the famous case that was all over the news seven years ago about a soulmate couple getting a divorce. It didn't matter.

All that being said, even if Stiles didn't believe in soulmates, Stiles had never meant to fall for the asshat known as Derek Hale. But for every barking command there was a thoughtful gesture to his sisters. For every bull headed rant there was this private smile when Derek thought no one was looking. It was the way Derek interacted with his fans and anonymously funded kickstarters and publically stood up for women and feminism. Not to mention Derek was ridiculously good looking. It was watching Derek push himself past the limits while working out and needing to stop him before he hurt himself. It was finding the stray notes detailing a story he was obviously trying to write and hide.

But they didn't outweigh the near abuse of being his stupid PA. Stiles needed out. He needed to find someone to work for who didn't simultaneously make him want to rip his hair out and jerk off.

In the apartment Stiles sat at the kitchen bar while reading through the Late Night talking points Deaton, Derek's agent, and the show sent over. He'd have to brief Derek on the plane tomorrow.

"Stiles! Where are my socks!"

"Not your mother!" Stiles shouted back.

There was a pounding of feet down the spiral staircase. Derek stopped halfway through and leaned over the railing. "What the hell is wrong with you today!?"

Stiles just shrugged. It's true he wasn't normally this forward in his snark. But it wasn't really related to Derek. It was the fact his father was undergoing heart surgery and he couldn't be there for him. Sure, he had Melissa, who was a nurse so it made the situation better, but Stiles still wished he could be there. He was a worrier by nature.

On top that, of he received an invitation that morning to his ex-boyfriend's wedding. Danny was getting married after finding his freaking soul mate. That breakup had really messed Stiles up. They were really good together but Danny decided to end things because he wanted to try finding the person who was "perfect, not just good". Looks like he succeeded.

Suddenly his tablet was being ripped out of his hands. Stiles looked up in shock at Derek's glaring eyes.

"Help me pack or I break this in two."

"Break that in two and you miss your next ten jobs and interviews at least."

"Fine," Derek snapped. "Then I'm hiding it until I'm packed."

Stiles rolled his eyes and followed Derek upstairs. "You really don't need my help for this," Stiles groused. "It's a three day trip to New York. Your outfit for the Late Night show was already picked out. Even still, Lydia picked out all your clothes so it's not like you can go wrong."

"Just find my socks, okay?" Derek sneered, going into the bathroom to… regel his hair. Lovely.

"You don't need to do that. They're going to style you for a role in two hours."

"Shut up, Stiles."

Stiles rolled his eyes and slid to the ground beside Derek's bed. There were about ten pairs a socks rolled up and sitting there. Derek always dumped his laundry basket by his dresser and the socks went rolling. He picked one up and chucked it at Derek's head.

"Jesus Christ! Stiles! Are you trying to get yourself fired?"

"Maybe," Stiles muttered, straightening his shirt as he stood. "Was that everything? Sir." He said the last bit as a jab.

Derek just glared and angrily zipped his travel bag.

It was going to be a long day.

Hours later, Stiles sat in Derek's trailer while the star was filming. It was nearing midnight so he should be done soon. He had been emailing back and forth with Deaton to figure out Derek's filming schedule for the VB3 movie. Nothing can be set in stone until Derek signs the contract, but Stiles is rearranging things to block off the three month shoot time and move the already scheduled things until later.

The door opened and Derek came storming in, dripping wet and rubbing a towel over his hair. "Fucking bath tub scene. Fully clothed in water. Ridiculous."

"You read the script before signing on," Stiles reminded him.

"Ugh." Then Derek began stripping off his soaking clothes.

Now, Stiles had seen Derek shirtless a number of times. Derek worked out a lot. But, Stiles had never seen Derek without his patch. Even when Derek was fresh out of the shower his towel at least covered the mate-mark. Derek was pretty particular about nobody seeing it.

But there it was, the patch peeling off with his shirt. A deep brown mark, a few shades darker than his olive skin, curved over Derek's hipbone. It looked like a crescent moon with an X breaking it into 4 pieces. Stiles stared.

"Stupid fucking…" Derek swore as he noticed his patch stuck to his shirt. Then he looked up to see Stiles staring.

Stiles drew his eyes away from the birth mark to catch Derek's eyes. Stiles raised his hands in mock surrender, swallowing dryly. "Well, I guess this will make sorting those fan photos easier," Stiles said, gluing his eyes firmly on his tablet. He couldn't even read the email before him.

That was his mate-mark. Derek had his mate-mark.

Oh fuck.

Chapter 2

Stiles chewed at his thumb nail distractedly as he prepped Derek on the Late Night questions. His knee was jangling up and down and his heart felt like he had been having an anxiety attack since last night. He barely slept and he hadn't had a chance to talk to anyone yet about it. He didn't even know who there was to talk to.

Then there was a hand on his knee. Stiles startled at the contact, his eyes whipping to Derek who was stilling his leg. "Uh. Sorry."

"What's been with you lately?" Derek asked, a bit of a snarl on his face, picking his hand back up and crossing his arms.

"Nothing," Stiles said. "Nothing."

Derek didn't seem to believe him much, but he didn't pry further.

This was supposed to be his soulmate? Derek freaking Hale? Sure, he was hot and he had secret nice tendencies but he was a jerk to him and they butt heads all the time and in two years Derek had never once asked him about his life. It doesn't matter if Stiles has a crush. Derek didn't care a rat's ass about him.

Stiles tried not to think about it. Shove it from his head. It didn't matter. Stiles knew that for years. His parents had never met their soul mates. And if they had, it wouldn't quite matter because they were perfect for each other. Stiles would find the person perfect for him and it would have nothing to do with a stupid crescent on his hip.

He peaked a glance over at Derek who was brooding, as per usual.

Nothing to do with mate-marks.

They made it to New York without incident, checking into the hotel for the night. They had an early morning the next day and Stiles was grateful for the break from Derek. Once in his own room Stiles immediately called Lydia.

"What?" she answered.

"So, you remember how yesterday I told you I was thinking about quitting."

"Yes?"

"I think that may be a more serious issue than I previously expressed."

On the other end, Lydia sighed heavily. "What happened?"

"I…" I saw Derek's birthmark. I found out who my soulmate is supposed to be. I had to sit on a plane for six hours next to the guy I've been head over heels for almost a year now but this time I knew something I shouldn't. I know a secret that involves someone else. "I don't know."

He could practically feel Lydia rolling her eyes. "Stick it out to the end of the month. We'll talk it over after our brunch meeting, okay?"

Stiles bit his bottom lip. He wanted to burst with the news he had, but he just couldn't. "Yeah, okay." Fuck. He couldn't tell Scott because as awesome as he is, the dumb lug couldn't keep a secret to save his life. He couldn't tell his dad because he doesn't want to stress him with the surgery happening so soon. And as much as Stiles was friends with a lot of people, they weren't exactly close enough to share this kind of gossip and not have it turn into, well, gossip.

He banged his head against the wall and hoped he might get a good night's sleep despite the jet lag.

He didn't sleep.

All the next day Stiles was shuffling around like a zombie. Derek kept giving him strange looks but thankfully he was so tired they barely even registered. The Late Night show taped without a hiccup, the closest being when Derek eyed the snack table. But Stiles pulled a protein bar out of his bag and handed it over. Derek would hate himself if he ate a donut.

Back in the cab, Stiles rubbed at his eyes while pulling up the rest of the New York schedule. "You have the rest of the day off. Tomorrow you have a radio interview at noon then you're headed to Macy's for the Burberry promotion. Then you have a free day, the flight isn't until ten at night."

Derek just grunted in response.

Stiles rolled his eyes. And this was supposed to be his- no. Don't think about it. He had to keep reminding himself. Nothing had changed. Nothing was different. Derek was still his boss. Sure, he had a crush, but it wasn't something that would have been acted upon before. This doesn't change anything. Derek was still a prick and Derek still didn't want to find his soul mate.

Nothing had changed.

Stiles followed Derek to the hotel and told him he would drag him out of the gym in an hour. He did some research, called his dad, and ordered some dinner before heading to the hotel's basement. It was a nice enough hotel that anybody who was staying here was either A) never going to the gym or B) also kind of famous, so Stiles didn't worry about Derek being harassed while he was alone. When he got there, Derek was dripping in sweat. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his shirt clung to him. It was a nice look, Stiles had to admit. But he was running with that look in his eye, like something was chasing him and he couldn't get away, like stopping could mean he would die.

Anyone who bothered to do a cursory search of Derek Hale on the internet knew about his parents. They had died when Derek was only seventeen. It was tragic. A house fire. They hadn't even been burned, it was just the smoke that did it. What the internet didn't tell you was that Derek had run away that day. He had gotten into an argument with his dad and decided to just grab his wallet and go. He was literally running through the woods when he heard the sirens. Lydia had told him all about it.

Stiles calmly walked over to the side of the treadmill and pressed the down arrow until the pace slowed enough that Derek was walking and then pressed stop.

"I could have gone further," Derek argued.

"Not without hurting yourself. Come on. Take a shower."

Derek grumbled but took a towel and wiped his forehead and left the gym. And that was that. His and Derek's dinners were just making it to their doors as Stiles got back upstairs. Derek took his food into his room and shut the door and Stiles was left knowing he had to leave.

It was one thing to never meet your soul mate. It was another all together to know who it is and know that it wouldn't work out. Stiles would obsess if he continued working for Derek. It wouldn't be healthy. Stiles had to go away, find someone knew, find a way to forget. He stared at the shut door, shinning numbers 1809 staring back at him. He took his food into his room and let the door close behind him.

Stiles was quiet the next morning. He finally crashed the night before, almost sleeping past his alarm. But he managed to order Derek breakfast in time and get the cab and get Derek to the radio station and only saying the essentials, updating Derek on his schedule.

At the station, Derek got herded into the sound booth and Stiles took aside the host to restate some ground rules. "No asking about his family. You can address relationship rumors but you must start the question with the fact it is a rumor. Anything related to Break Starter is off the table. And, for god's sake, don't ask what his birth mark looks like. Okay?"

The host nodded his affirmative. He'd gotten the list before, but Stiles always reminded them. Interviewers were assholes.

Stiles sat in the control room, watching and listening in as Derek talked about getting to do his own stunts in Hostage and being cast as the super spy teacher in the new Gallagher Girls film series that was starring that girl from Kick Ass.

"Now, there's a rumor that you and costar Jennifer Blake have a little something going on. Is this true?"

Derek laughed. It was just a beautiful thing to see him smile like that that Stiles had to shake his head to clear it. "No, no. We had that weird sex scene in Hostage where I'm practically bleeding to death but it was apparently the best time to make out, and yeah, I'd say we had good chemistry on set. But it didn't lead to anything."

"Did you want it to?"

Derek scrunched his face, looking up as if trying to find the words. "Not really. After my last relationship-"

"The one with Kate Argent?"

"Yeah. After Kate, I just haven't really been interested in trying for anything serious. I'm not really the relationship type. The more time we spent together the more I hated it."

"Maybe it was just her," the host joked.

Derek chuckled. "It was probably just me. My sisters think I'm emotionally stunted."

"So, Derek, how come you haven't tried looking for your soul mate? Like all the celebrities I interview, I'm sure you get thousands of photos from fans of their birthmark? I mean, that's how Jennifer Lawrence found her husband."

Stiles groaned. This was getting close to dangerous territory.

"And I'm sure they're happy together, but all I saw was breaking up a really good relationship with Nick Holt for a stranger. It's just not for me, whether or not I'm dating someone."

"But, don't you think you might be holding out on someone who does want to find their soul mate by not sharing what yours looks like or even looking for them?"

Derek shook his head. "No. Because if they really were my soul mate we'd probably have the same views on it. Which is why Jennifer Lawrence and her husband work, because they had the same views. If I'm going to meet my soulmate, I'm going to meet them. And we'll probably get to know each other and realize that we work well with each other and maybe even date before finding out that we have the same stupid mark on our bodies. That's what I believe."

And Stiles's heart sank. Because he had known Derek for two years. If they were going to be together, it would have happened by now. Stiles chewed on his lip. This was ridiculous. Nothing's changed. Nothing's changed.

Except it had, somehow.

While Stiles trailed Derek around Macy's for the Burberry promotion, he ignored how stunning Derek looked in that suit and drafted up his letter of resignation. He texted Lydia saying he would wait until their brunch but he'd already made up his mind. He was quitting.

The next day Derek traversed around NYC while Stiles holed away in the apartment, sending emails setting the next two weeks in stone. There was only a few more days until the brunch and Stiles had to get things in order. He called Derek at six to make sure he was back at the hotel so they could make it to the airport by eight.

Stiles handled getting them through security and onto the plane like the seasoned vet he was. Just one six hour flight and he would be home. Almost home.

"You've been weird this trip," Derek said, popping open his inflight beer.

Stiles shrugged and handed over Derek's Kindle. "It's nothing."

"If you say so," Derek scoffed. "Just suck it up and don't complain to me about it."

"Woooow," Stiles said under his breath and popping two sleeping pills. "I'll see you when we land."

Stiles pushed his pillow against the window and tried to fall asleep. He hated red-eye flights. When Stiles woke up there was a blanket over him and a small water bottle in his lap. "We landed yet?" Stiles yawned, the blanket falling off of him as he stretched.

"Just now descending," Derek grumbled. "I don't have anything for today, right?" It was already past 2am. Derek really liked being correct on the 'today' front.

"No," Stiles said. "Just sleep. Then tomorrow's brunch with the team."

Tomorrow was when he officially resigned.

They made their way off the plane, thankful for only packing carry-ons, and finding the driver with the name card: Stilinski. Hale brought too much attention even if it was a fairly common name. They dropped Derek off at his loft first before driving further downtown to Stiles's one bedroom. Stiles was wired from the 6 hour nap but 3 hour time lapse. Fucking time zones. It should be five in the morning. You would think only three days away he wouldn't have adjusted, but he did.

Stiles sat at his computer, continuing his research, sending out a few emails and printing his finished letter. Around five in the morning he got the email he was expecting. Good. Everything would be fine. He took a shower to calm down and then when it got closer to seven called his dad.

"What do I owe the pleasure?" his dad joked.

"So, I have some good news. I'll be able to come down and visit you soon."

"Yeah?"

"I won't be able to make it for the surgery, but in a few weeks I'll come and help Melissa to take care of you."

His dad laughed on the other end. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the extra pair of hands. I'm really glad you'll be able to visit. What's the occasion?"

He almost let it slip that he's quitting his job, but he thought that might be too much for his dad's heart to hear. "Just able to squeeze a break in. I'll talk to you more when I see you face to face, yeah?"

"Sounds good, kid."

They chatted a bit longer before his father had to go to work. Stiles chastised him for not taking time off yet but his father insisted he could only afford to take the recovery time. They said their goodbyes and Stiles picked up his resignation letter and sighed. He was really doing this.

Of course, that's when Lydia rang.

"Stiles," she started sharply. "We have an issue."

Chapter 3

Stiles chewed on his pen as he looked at the photos online credited to one Matt Daehler. "That little shit. We have to sue him and slap a restraining order. He had to have hid camera's in Derek's trailer to get these. That's stalking."

"I'm bringing Jackson to the meeting tomorrow. Actually, I'm hosting the meeting tomorrow. I don't want Derek out in public until we've figured out our game plan. He's going to be getting thousands of solicitations now and we're going to have to vet all of them."

Stiles bit down hard on the pen and then spit it out, his teeth and jaw aching from the sudden pressure. "Let me handle all of that."

"Why? I thought you were quitting," she said tersely.

"Because I- shit. Lydia. I need you to come over. Now." He couldn't handle this. Not by himself. "Please."

The please gave her pause. "I'll be there in twenty. Let Derek know he's not to leave his apartment today."

"Will do."

After Lydia hung up, Stiles immediately called Derek, twirling around in his seat nervously as he waited for the rings to stop and Derek to just pick up his damn-

"What?"

"Are you at the loft?"

"Yes?"

Stiles let out a sigh of relief. "Close your curtains."

"What?"

"Close your curtains and don't leave for the day. Don't have anyone over either. Don't even order food. You should be all set on your meal supplements anyway."

"Stiles, what's going on?" Derek sounded almost wary at Stiles's request.

"Just close your curtains for me?" Stiles pleaded.

Stiles listened on as he heard the rustling of cloth indicating curtains may have been closed. "Now do you mind telling me what's going on?"

"Don't freak out. Lydia's coming over to discuss everything with me before our meeting tomorrow, but we want you out of sight for the day or else be bombarded. Some photos of your mate-mark got leaked."

"WHAT!?" Derek roared. Stiles had to pull his Bluetooth off at the sound.

"Calm down," Stiles said, putting the clip back over his ear. "Lydia's already called your lawyer about filing a claim against the photographer. Lydia is going to coach you tomorrow on how to handle any press or fans or questions, and I'm going to vet the crazies who put fake marks on their hip claiming to be your soulmate. Trust us."

"Stiles?" Derek asked, sounding hesitant, a word Stiles had never ascribed to the man before. "What if one of them isn't- what if someone actually…"

"Don't' worry about it," Stiles said, the taste of his own spit feeling like tar ready to choke him. "Trust me."

There were a few beats of silence, deep breathing on the other end, and then dial tone. Of fucking course. Can't even be polite enough to say bye.

Stiles paced around his apartment, impulsively cleaning until there came a rapid knock at the door. He leaped to answer it, eyes bugging out of his face. Lydia stood there like the petite goddess she was and gave him a quick once over.

"My god, Stilinski. You look like you're wanted to for murder. What the hell happened?" she pushed her way inside and dropped her bag neatly onto his couch. "And you've been cleaning," she mused. Lydia turned to him with sharp eyes. "Okay. Spill."

Stiles ran a hand through his hair and let out a long exhale. "Okay, just. Don't freak out." Stiles went to his belt and unlatched it.

"Why are you taking off your pants?" Lydia asked, deadpan.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I'm not. Just, hold up two seconds." He unzipped his jeans and tugged down the right side, bunching the hem of his shirt a bit.

Normally, Stiles wore a patch. He used to not care, but after Danny it became obsessive. Like, if someone saw his mark and knew they weren't soul mates, it might get in their head to not even try, even if all they saw was a peak of the crescent when his shirt rode up or something. He hadn't bothered after the shower today since he wasn't planning on going anywhere.

"Oh, fuck," Lydia whispered, stepping closer. She reached out before pulling her hand back, tracing the pattern with her eyes like a hawk. She looked up at Stiles and he dropped his shirt, redoing his pants. "How long have you known."

"Five days or something," Stiles said, his head feeling light. "The first time I ever saw… it was the same time those photos were taken. Okay. It's not like…"

"Who else has seen your birthmark?" Lydia asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"Um. My dad. Scott. Danny. You."

"That's it?" She asked.

Stiles thought back to his college girlfriend, Malia. But she had been super conservative about it all. He had to wear a patch with her. She never wanted to know. None of his one night stands before Danny would have remembered, always drunk and quick and in the dark. All his one nights stands after Danny wouldn't have seen it, with the patch.

"Yeah. That's it."

"Okay. I'll have Jackson draw up some gag orders, just in case. You're not going to tell Derek, are you?"

"What!?" Stiles nearly screeched, stumbling back into his chair. "God, no. He doesn't…. he doesn't," he doesn't even like me. Stiles felt a weight on his chest, air not making past his lips despite the gasping sounds he made. "He doesn't. He doesn't."

"Stiles!" Lydia's voice was distant to his ears. "Stiles!"

He felt hands on his face, his vision spotting with black dots. His world was being swallowed up and he couldn't, he couldn't… There was a press of lips against his own and Stiles gasped, blinking back to see Lydia in front of him. His body moved on instinct, kissing back, slowing to the pace she set, slow and gentle. Then she pulled back as Stiles was left blinking at the strange tingle of lips left over from a kiss.

"What was…?" he asked, not quite sure if he was dreaming.

"You were having a panic attack. I kissed you," she shrugged as if it was no big deal even though something in her eyes told him she was worried. "It acts as both a shock, like hiccups, and forces the body to breathe. It's not the best technique but I had to stop you before you fainted."

Stiles poked at his lips. "Yeah, okay." He looked her up and down and smirked. "How come we never hit it off, hey Lyds? That was one hot kiss."

Lydia flipped her hair and rolled her eyes before stopping past him to the kitchen. "You know Jackson and I make one of the strongest power couples. Right below Beyoncé and Jay-Z and above the President and her husband."

"What is it again, snake like thing around the ankle?" he asked, following her. He was still jittery but squashed it down to make light hearted conversation. Lydia got herself a glass of water and handed a second cup over to him. "Thanks," he said before drinking greedily.

"So," she hedged carefully, "Derek's your soulmate."

Stiles nodded.

"And you're not going to tell him."

His grip on his glass tightened, the muscles in his hand cramping at the tension. "I've been Derek's assistant for two years, Lydia. If anything was going to happen, don't you think it would have already?"

She just hummed and leaned back against the counter. "Is this why you're quitting?"

Stiles nodded. "I mean, I thought about it before, but not seriously. But I can't. Knowing this? I can't be around him."

"But this makes vetting the fakers easier because we already know the real one."

Stiles nodded and then thunked his head against the cabinets behind him. "My life is a fucking mess."

Lydia sighed. "I don't know, Stiles. Why don't you just tell him instead of going through this charade?"

"Because, Lydia. He doesn't like me that way and I don't want to make him feel obligated or uncomfortable. And besides. He's an asshole."

"To be fair," Lydia pointed out, "You're kind of an asshole, too."

"Yeah but I'm like Star-Lord asshole where it's charming and hilarious and he's like Batman asshole where he's also a dick."

"You love Batman."

Stiles scrunched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shut up."

Lydia headed back to the living room area and sat down next to her bag, pulling out her tablet. "I'm going to order sushi. We're going to sit down and talk this through and plan out the details of you 'vetting' people with Derek's mate-mark. You know there are at least forty people already putting henna on their hips right now. Then you're going to help me buy everything for brunch tomorrow. Deal?"

"Deal," Stiles said, a smile tugging at his lips. Lydia was the best ally anyone could possibly have. "Have I told you how much I love you recently?"

"No. Please, by all means, praise me," she smirked.

Stiles and Lydia worked for the rest of the day with the occasional tea and ice cream and sitcom break to help take his mind off things. After they went grocery shopping, Lydia dropped Stiles back off at his apartment. He gave her an awkward hug over the middle console. She responded by patting his back lightly.

"All set?" she asked, toying with the fluffy pink key chain hanging from the ignition. Stiles nodded. She looked like she wanted to say something big, but she pulled in her lips and then gave a winning smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Stiles."

"Bye, Lydia."

He went inside and played video games until he fell asleep, refusing to let his mind slip back to Derek Hale. The next morning he had to get up early and drive over to Derek's. No town cars today. No one would suspect a star coming out a beat up old Prius. Stiles missed his Jeep from high school still, but the Prius was perfect for the city. Stiles went in through the front, the doorman knowing him well, and knocked on Derek's door on the top floor.

Derek opened the door wearing jeans and no shirt. Stiles gulped.

"Why aren't you dressed?" Stiles demanded, pushing Derek back into the apartment, cursing himself as he pulled his hand away from Derek's chest. "Come on, put on a shirt. Any shirt. And-" he looked at Derek's feet. "Socks. Damn it, Derek."

"I was making breakfast."

"We're going to brunch, Derek. You don't eat breakfast before brunch." Stiles stormed upstairs and raided Derek's closet for a shirt, yanking down that red Henley with the thumb holes because it was comfy and Derek would be uncomfortable enough at this meeting. Then he dove under the bed and grabbed a pair of socks and picked up Derek's beat up converse he never got a chance to wear anymore and headed downstairs, tossing them to all to the actor who was just standing dumbly in his living room.

"Lydia's going to have croissants and stuff," Derek mumbled through his shirt as he tugged it on. "I didn't want to eat pastries."

Stiles sighed and put away the eggs Derek thankfully hadn't cracked open yet. "I made sure to get those chicken sausages you like and I'll make you eggs and spinach there. We have to go."

Derek was tugging on his shoes as Stiles ushered him out the loft and down the service elevator. His car was parked out back and they got in without incident. Derek sat in the back where Stiles had tinted windows and was quiet the whole ride to Lydia's.

"I know you never wanted your mark to get out," Stiles said, keeping his eyes on the road. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. "And I'm sorry for the harassment you'll probably have to face. Just know… just know I believe what you said on the radio the other day. If they really have your mate-mark, they wouldn't harass you. So, let us deal with all the people that come forth saying it's them. Okay?"

Derek nodded, looking out the dark windows.

"Right," Stiles muttered under his breath. He didn't know why he even bothered.

They reached Lydia's and Stiles again parked round back and brought Derek through the service entrance.

Everyone else was already there. Lydia, Deaton, Jackson, and…

"Ah, good. Greenburg, you made it.

"Call me David, please. Greenburg makes me feel like I'm back in high school lacrosse." They laughed at that and Stiles pulled him in for a bro pat. They had gone to high school together and lost touch during college but a handful of months ago Stiles ran into him and it turned out they had meandered into the same profession and Greenburg was thinking of leaving his job assisting some top notch lawyer. He was good at his job.

"You were terrible at lacrosse," Stiles reminded him.

"Like you were any better."

Stiles turned to see Derek glaring at him. "Ah, Derek. This is David. He's going to be shadowing me for a few weeks."

"Does he need to be here?" Derek snarled before brushing past to the kitchen table where Lydia had a marvelous spread ready.

Stiles glanced nervously at Lydia. She nodded with a tight smile. "You're right," she said. "We should start with that." Derek looked between them with a frown.

"Uh, Derek," Stiles started, pulling the letter from his bag. "David is here today and for the next few weeks, and until you fire him."

"What?" Derek paused from picking up the chicken sausage.

Stiles handed over the letter. "That's my two weeks' notice."

"What?" Stiles extended his arm further, hoping Derek would just take it. After a few tense moments Derek yanked the paper from Stiles's hand and scanned it over. He gave Greenburg a wicked glare then sat heavily into his seat. "Are you quitting because of this mark thing?"

"What? No!" Stiles protested even though it was kind of true.

"No," Derek agreed. "This is why you've been so cagey all week. When did you decide to quit?"

Stiles ran a hand over his eyes and gave Greenburg an apologetic look before taking a seat next to Lydia. "Look, this isn't the point of today's meeting. Let's just get to work. Lydia," he said, turning the mic over to her.

Lydia, thank her blessed soul, picked right up and forced the conversation her way. They sat for three hours discussing the details of the leaked photo situation and how they were handling it publically and legally and the restraining order on that Deahler guy. Greenburg took excellent notes, catching up on everything. But Stiles couldn't help but notice the three croissants and two Danishes Derek ate over the course of the meeting.

Stiles tried not to think about it.

Two days later they held a press conference about the mark, Derek telling the public that anyone coming forward with a matching mark would have to go through his auditor Stiles Stilinski. By the end of the first week, Stiles was swamped in a pile of aggressive letters, emails, phone calls, and a few in person visits that a little rubbing alcohol didn't shoo away quickly. He was glad for Greenburg's help. He wouldn't have been able to do both jobs.

Stiles wasn't sure but he thought Derek might have been giving him the cold shoulder. It was hard to tell with the way Derek normally acted.

Greenburg texted him when he was busy telling off a girl over the phone that no, she could not talk to Derek. If she really wanted to prove her mark was real she'd have to schedule an appointment to visit Stiles.

How do you get Derek to stop working out?

Stiles sighed and finished up the phone call before replying.

Force the machine to stop, hand him a towel.

Tried that already.

He went to a different machine.

He keeps doing it.

Tell him you'll eat donuts in front of him. He fucking loves donuts but won't eat them.

Got it.

Stiles went back to the list of names he had to go over. It felt never ending. After two more emails and a daunting phone call to a gruff sounding man from Missouri, Greenburg texted him again.

I had to actually go get donuts, but it worked.

Thanks.

Stiles was in the middle of replying when his phone started ringing. Not his contact number to the crazy fans, but his phone. It was Melissa. He had just talked to her the day before while his dad angrily fasted for surgery. It should have gotten out an hour ago. He was so busy he didn't have much time to worry about it, although it had still been niggling in the back of his head.

"Hey Melissa! How'd it go?"

"I'm going to start this with the fact your father is fine."

"Okay, that doesn't sound ominous at all," Stiles said, growing antsy. "What happened?"

"There were some complications with the surgery. He's fine. He's out now. They're going to hold him for observation, but they had to do a triple instead of the scheduled double."

Stiles cursed. "Yeah, okay. Should I come down?"

"You don't have to," she said. "It's nothing I can't handle. I just wanted to keep you updated."

"Thanks Mel. I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"You bet it. Love you, Stiles. Tell Scott to call."

"Will do. Bye."

Stiles hung up. He should just go home. He didn't need to be in LA to do this work and Greenburg knew what he was doing. Stiles wasn't even around to assist Derek at all because there was too much going on with the mark issue. He might as well just pack it in. He shot off a text to Scott telling him to call his mom and then began throwing clothes into a suitcase. He needed to go home.

Chapter 4

Stiles sat on the couch in what was Scott's childhood home. His father and Scott's mom never got married, but they were together in all the ways that mattered. Five years ago Stiles's dad moved into Melissa's house which had been left to her by her mother. It was bigger, which being just them they didn't really need, but they liked having rooms for Scott and Stiles when they came to visit and in recent years they started taking in foster kids for short periods of time, so it worked nicely.

Right now though, it was just Stiles as his father rested upstairs. They had discharged him from the hospital just after Stiles had gotten into Beacon Hills. Stiles was glad he was here to take care of his dad since Melissa still had to work odd hours at the hospital. Scott was planning on making a visit soon once he was done wrapping up the film he was working with Kira on.

Stiles was taking a break from sorting through emails and enjoying just watching some TV for once when his personal phone rang. He saw Derek's name on the screen and he frowned before answering.

"Hello?"

"Greenburg is terrible. Can you switch jobs?"

Stiles blinked, completely caught off guard. Derek hadn't so much as grunted at him since the brunch meeting.

"Um. No?" Even if he wanted to, it doesn't work that way. Stiles technically worked for Lydia now under PR, not Derek. Something sounding like a low growl came through the end of the line. Derek was going caveman on him. Great. "Look, Derek, has Greenburg been getting you to your appointments on time?"

There was a beat of silence before Derek gave a curt "Yes."

"And does he make sure there's proper security when you go places?"

"Yes."

"And does he handle future meetings and interviews and filmings and figure out your schedule?"

"Yes."

"And does he make sure to give you one day off a week and one late start a week?"

"Yes."

"And does he make sure there's food that complies with your diet wherever you go?"

"Yes."

"Then what's the problem?"

Stiles was able to count to ten before Derek answered.

"You're better."

His jaw dropped, a stupid grin fighting at the muscles of his cheeks. What the hell was that? "Derek," he said, "I worked with you for two years. Greenburg's been on less than a month. Give him a chance to learn all of your idiosyncrasies. Okay?" There was some unintelligible grumbling on the other end. "What was that?"

"Nothing. Forget about it."

And then Derek hung up. Stiles stared dumbly at his phone for a solid minute before shaking his head and getting up. He needed a snack.

That night after diner he got another call from Derek. This time complaining about the fact Greenburg kept eating donuts around him. Stiles tried not to laugh. "I'll tell him to tone it down a bit," Stiles promised. "But it was the only way to get you to stop working out."

"I need to stay in shape."

Stiles snorted. "Derek, you could take a year off from working out and still be in shape. Don't hurt yourself." Derek grunted and hung up.

The next day it happened again, Derek calling to complain about the way Greenburg sat in on a lunch meeting with Erica Reyes and V. Boyd. "You expected me to be joining you on the last one," Stiles reminded him. "You're really stretching to find things to complain about."

Then Derek hung up.

The next day Derek called saying Greenburg packed all the wrong clothes for their trip to San Fran. "Then pack your own suitcase, Derek," Stiles sighed, stirring the stir-fry he was making for lunch. "Pack a few pairs of jeans, a black dress pant, a blazer, a button down, and that blue shirt with the v-cut. Your socks are under your bed." Stiles's dad called for him upstairs and Stiles clicked off the stovetop. "I gotta go, Derek."

"Who was that?"

"My dad. He's a bit bedridden right now. I'll talk to you later, okay?" And then for the first time, Stiles hung up on Derek. Then he realized he told Derek they'd talk later. He smacked his forehead before heading upstairs to his dad. "What is my life?"

Derek didn't call the next day or the day after, presumably too busy but maybe finally decided to stop complaining about Greenburg for no apparent reason. Stiles could only hope. At the same time though, it was odd not working for Derek. Stiles was glad he was here with his father but Stiles was used to Derek's stupid face.

Ding Dong.

Stiles looked over to his dad sitting on the lazy-boy. "You expecting anyone?" His dad shook his head. The doorbell rang again and Stiles got up, wiping the Cheetos fingers onto a napkin and hoping that was good enough to not appear like a slob. Stiles opened the door and froze. "Derek?"

And there was Derek's stupid face. He was standing there wearing the blue v neck and blazer Stiles told him to pack with his sunglasses resting on his head and a rental car in the driveway. Derek shifted the weight between his feet and crossed his arms and looked away. "Can I come in?"

Stiles startled. "Yeah. Yeah, of course," Stiles said, stepping out of the way to let Derek by. "What- what are you doing here? I didn't know you even knew where I live."

"Of course I know where you live," Derek said, stepping into the living room. He stopped when he spotted the Sheriff on the chair, bandage on his chest poking past his white tank. "Mr. Stilinski."

"Derek Hale," he said with a sly smile. "I'm not sure we've had the pleasure to meet? You know I saw that last what's it called Nemeton movie. Pretty good work there."

"Uh, thanks," Derek said. His shoulders were tense, jaw clenched. Stiles needed to herd him away from his dad until he knew what was going on.

"Come on, Derek. I'll make you some tea. Still can't have caffeine, right?"

Derek looked at him and scratched his beard and nodded. "Yeah."

Stiles led Derek into the kitchen and pulled out some mugs. "Chamomile or Jasmine," he asked. Derek just shrugged, darting his eyes around. "What are you doing here?"

Derek crossed his arms. "It's only a two hour drive from San Fran?"

"So, you just thought you'd rent a car and come visit your ex-personal assistant?" he asked, turning on the electric kettle and putting tea bags into the cups.

"Greenburg's driving me crazy," Derek snapped at the air. "He's always so chipper."

"Chipper?" Stiles snorted. Derek grumbled. "Mm, you're right. Much too sunny for you sour disposition."

Derek glared a hole into the floor. Silence stretched until the kettle turned off with nothing but the baseball game on the TV in the background. "How's your dad?"

Stiles almost dropped the cup he had picked up to pour water into. "Uh, good. He's doing good. He has to take a longer recovery period than expected but…" Stiles shrugged and trailed off.

"Lydia told me about the surgery," Derek said, scratching his cheek again. "How come you never told me?"

Stiles was stunned as he added a spoonful of sugar and handed over the cup of still brewing tea. Derek pulled the string of the tea bag a few times, not looking up. "Well," Stiles said, putting a few lumps of sugar into his own and a dash of milk into his dad's mug, "you never asked. And I never wanted to bring up personal matters while working."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Sorry?"

Derek shrugged again. "That you never felt comfortable, uh, talking to me. I know I'm not exactly… nice."

Stiles rolled his eyes but could feel a flush of embarrassment crawling up his neck as he walked back to the living room. "You're not not nice, Derek," Stiles said, grimacing at the grammar… and the situation. "I just, you're busy and quiet. That's fine."

Stiles caught his dad darting eyes between him and Derek. Stiles widened his eyes pointedly, quietly praying be quiet, be quiet, be quiet. The Sheriff just picked up his newspaper and flipped it open. His dad knew, of course. Stiles had to explain everything when he told his dad that he quit his job. Besides, if his dad ever caught sight of Derek's photo's his dad would know right away.

"It's not, though," Derek said, gripping tightly onto the mug of tea. "If it was the reason you quit."

Stiles felt his heart sink. He had never heard Derek sound so… vulnerable. Except maybe on the big screen. Stiles shook his head, wanting to deny it, even though it was true. "It was just time, Derek." Stiles took a seat on the couch and Derek tentatively sat down on the other side. It was so weird seeing Derek in his house. For the first time, it seemed like Derek was referring to him. Just, just weird. "And Greenburg is a great assistant."

Derek leaned back into the couch and sighed. "Yeah, he is. But he's not-," he cut off, putting his untouched tea onto the coffee table. Derek looked between Stiles and the Sheriff before tensing up again. "I guess I'm just used to you. I shouldn't have come here."

"Stay," the Sheriff said, a glint in his eyes that made Stiles nervous. "Finish watching the game with us. I completely understand your pain. It's just not the same when Stiles leaves."

"Dad," Stiles warned. His dad tried to shrug innocently, but Stiles knew better. "You're welcome to stay. When do you need to be back?"

"My call tomorrow isn't until noon."

"Perfect!" the Sheriff cheered, folding his paper and slapping on the side table. "You can stay the night. We have a spare room."

Stiles shot his dad a look of terror but when he started to try and stand Stiles rushed to his side. "Okay, take it easy."

"I'm only going to the bathroom," he complained. "I can get there myself. Besides, I'm supposed to walk a bit to get rid of the stiffness."

Stiles backed off, knowing he was being a little over protective. "Okay. But yell if you need anything."

"Yeah, yeah," his dad said, waving him off. As he turned, the Sheriff shot Stiles a wink and a grin before heading to the bathroom.

Stiles tried not to scream.

"So, uh," Stiles started. "I was going to make lemon chicken for dinner. That sound good?"

He may have been imagining it, but it almost look like Derek smiled. "Yeah. That's fine. Do you want any help?"

Stiles balked. "Help? Since when did Derek Hale ever offer help?"

"Since you're not my assistant anymore and I'm a guest in your house. I may be a caveman, as you call me sometimes, but I was brought up with some manners."

Stiles almost tripped over the rug. "You've heard me call you that?"

"I'm pretty, not deaf," Derek said with a straight face before taking a sip of tea.

Stiles blinked and then burst out laughing. "Oh my god, was that a joke. I've known you for two years. Since when were you funny?" Derek only shrugged. "Oh, is it again because I'm no longer your assistant? Do you turn less into a cliché and more into a normal person when around non-employees?"

Derek ducked his head again. "Something like that. I…" Derek took another sip of tea, following Stiles into the kitchen. "I'm sorry I just barged into your home like this."

"It's okay," Stiles said sincerely while pulling chicken out of the fridge. "A… welcome surprise." He caught Derek's eye and smiled. It felt like something soft, the look they shared, something just between the two of them. Stiles quickly shook his head and continued pulling out ingredients. "If you really want to help the pans are in the cabinet over there."

It was such a strange experience. Derek was in his kitchen, rattling around through his pots and pans. Stiles could feel his heart beat like a hummingbird. It felt so easy and domestic and none of that fit with Derek Hale, actor extraordinaire.

"Take out a boiling pot, too, and fill it with water?" Stiles asked.

Derek handed him a pan and flipped on the sink faucet to fill the pot with. Stiles put the chicken the pan and started adding the other ingredients then got out a box of pasta.

"I don't eat pasta," Derek said.

Stiles snorted. "You think I don't know that?" Stiles poured the pasta into the boiler and placed it on the stove top. Instructions always say bring water to boil and then add pasta but Stiles like the way it tasted when they cooked slower. Maybe it was just a holdover of being an impatient college student. "This is for my dad, the only brand cleared by his doctor. If you can find the steamer, too?" After a bit of rustling Derek handed it over. "Thanks. And now I'll make broccoli."

"I missed your cooking," Derek said.

Stiles had to smile to himself. "Does Greenburg cook?"

"No. Is there anything I can do?"

Stiles shook his head. "Not without getting in the way. You could set the table though. Plates are over there and utensils are in that drawer." Stiles could hear his dad settle back into his chair in the living room and plates clinking as Derek took them down. "I can't believe you drove two hours to see me. I'm flattered," Stiles laughed softly. It was absurd.

"I didn't plan on it," Derek admitted. "But I was close and I had time off, so… I've been talking to Boyd a lot lately," Derek said, changing topics suddenly. Stiles could tell by his voice that this was something Derek was nervous about. "I'm not a good friend."

Stiles turned away from the simmering chicken to look at him. "That's not-"

"Yeah, it is," Derek insisted. "I cut off all communication with Erica and Boyd because of some perceived slight and I, I don't know."

Stiles smiled, pushing chicken around the pan a bit. "I get it," he said. "You're still not good with words. I accept your muddled attempt at an apology. And now that I'm not working for you I'll make sure to bombard you with personal information."

Derek chuckled. "Friends then, I guess."

It was an offer, better than Stiles had ever expected from his former boss. "Friends." Oh god, Stiles was going to regret this.

Chapter 5

Over dinner Stiles kept warding off weird looks from his father. He could tell the Sheriff wasn't really trying to be subtle and it was killing him. Derek didn't seem to notice, thankfully, even as his dad interrogated him like this was some kind of first date with the future in-laws. "So, Derek. What kind of stuff do you like to do in your free time?"

Derek pushed around the scoop of pasta he had surprisingly put on his plate. "Well I don't really get a lot of that," he said. "But, I read a lot."

"Stiles tells me you write."

Stiles jerked his head up, mouth full of chicken. He chewed quickly to maybe swallow and be able to say something. Derek looked at him, mouth hanging open a bit and a blush staining his cheeks. It was adorable, to say the least.

"You know about that?"

Stiles swallowed, the too large chicken bits going down rough. He coughed and pounded his chest a bit. "Yeah," he said with a half wheeze. "Yeah. Uh. You leave scraps around the loft a lot." Stiles took swig of his beer. "From what I pieced together it's an interesting story."

"Thanks," Derek mumbled before ducking his head and spearing a piece of broccoli.

"Well good on you, Derek," the Sheriff said. "How's work been going?"

"Good. I just signed the contract for the VB3 film. I'll be able to announce it publically next month."

Derek seemed happy about that. He had told Stiles more about how he and Boyd have been repairing their friendship. Erica's still a little hesitant around him, it seems, but she's excited to start working with him again. She may be the script writer but she unofficially takes on the job of an Assistant Director on set.

"What are you working on in San Fran?"

"It's a bit role in a rom com. They're filming all my parts in three days."

"Well after the VB3 film you'll be getting the leads in the rom coms," Stiles joked.

"Deaton says I'm too gruff," Derek grunted.

Stiles laughed. "Perfect for the bad boy flicks," he assured Derek.

"Stiles loves those type of rom coms," the Sheriff grinned. "Freaky Friday with that boy on the motorcycle. Play a dude on a motorcycle. That would fit you perfectly!"

Stiles did his best not to smash his face into his plate of food. "Derek, how have you been handling people? Anyone bothering you about the, uh, mark thing?" Stiles asked, wincing a bit as he tried to change the subject. He probably shouldn't have brought it up.

"I've only had a few people after me. I gave them your email. One guy tried to show me his but I could tell the X was in the wrong place in two seconds. He was very embarrassed."

"Amateurs," Stiles laughed. "There are some girls who make it all the way to an actuator before getting proven a fake. Some even make it past them, but not for long. It's always the girls, though. Apparently men don't have the patience to do good makeup."

Everyone laughed at that. "Here," Derek said standing, "let me help clean up."

"Oh, first cooking now cleaning? It's like you're a whole other person."

Derek just rolled his eyes and cleared his plate. Stiles picked up his and his dad's. "Be quiet," he hissed at his father, who merely grinned stupidly. Stiles followed Derek into the kitchen who was already putting the rinsed plate into the dish washer.

"I should head out," Derek said.

"You sure you don't want to stay the night? The bed in the guest room is actually really nice."

Derek shook his head and took the plates out of Stiles's hands. "Don't want Greenburg to have a heart attack." Stiles watched as Derek scrapped the bits left down the disposal and rinsed the plates like it was some kind of act of magic and wonder. Derek's shoulders were relaxed and he wasn't even acting. It was going to be the death of him.

"You did tell him you were here, right?" Stiles asked while he picked up the silverware and put them in the dishwasher as Derek finished with the plates and cups and mugs.

"Yes, Mom."

"Not your mother," Stiles said automatically.

For the first time, Stiles wondered if that ever bothered Derek. Stiles himself had lost his mom, and he could be sensitive about it at times. Maybe Derek didn't like it when Stiles reminded him in such a trivial way that he'd lost his parents. But here, this time, Derek joked first. So maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

"Derek's heading out," Stiles said to his dad as they passed through the dining hall again.

"Aw, that's too bad. But it was nice having you, Derek."

"Thanks for letting me stay," Derek said sincerely before double checking he had his things and heading to the door. Stiles showed him out, both of them hovering over the doorframe. "Thanks, again. I'm glad I got to talk to you."

"Yeah. Yeah, me too. It's nice hearing you talk and not just to the reporters." Derek tried to fight a smile, but Stiles could see it twitching at the corner of his lips. Stiles had to drag his eyes away. "Text me, okay?"

Derek nodded, his eyes flicking back and forth between Stiles's for a moment before he took a step back. "Talk to you later, Stilinski."

"Later, Hale."

Derek slipped into his rental car and Stiles watched as he backed out the driveway and sped down the road.

The Sheriff's voice rang from the kitchen. "You loooove him, you want maaaarrry him."

"Oh my god, DAD!"

He was just thankful Melissa hadn't made it home before Derek headed out. It was probably for the best of his sanity that Derek hadn't stayed the night. Of course, when Melissa did arrive, Stiles was harassed mercilessly between the two of them. When the laughter died down, Melissa took both his hands and gave him a fond look.

"I know we tease, but I'm just happy for you, even if it's not where you want it to be right now. I have faith it will get there. You and Derek are soul mates. That's a rare and wondrous thing."

Stiles thought of Erica and Boyd, Lydia and Jackson, Danny and Ethan. It sure felt like a lot of people met their soulmates. But then he thought of his parents. And his dad and Melissa. And Scott and Kira.

"I know what you're thinking," Melissa said with a humored roll of her eye before heading to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers. "That you don't need a soulmate because not everybody finds theirs and still have happily ever afters. But you're lucky, Stiles. You found your soulmate without even trying. History tells us that you'll be one of the greats."

Stiles smiled bashfully at the thought. "We'll see," he said, shrugging his shoulder. It was the only sentiment he could commit to.

Over the course of the next two months Stiles continued logging and dismissing the seemingly never ending list of men and women with "Derek Hale's mate-mark" and other such nonsense. He tracked Derek's movements more from the schedule he still had access to viewing (Greenburg was the only one who could make changes) than any communication with Derek himself, although there was the occasional text with a complaint about Greenburg. Greenburg texted on occasion, too, to learn more about how to deal with one of Derek's habits, or where the hell Derek's socks were.

Then finally Lydia called him. "This is ridiculous. You're holing away doing busy work that is so completely beneath your talents. It was one thing if you were actually parsing through them all but I know it's just a dump of nos." Stiles snorted. "I'm serious, Stiles. You should be back here working. Your father's back at work and so should you."

Stiles sighed. "What would I do, Lydia? I can't work for Derek again."

"I'm not asking you to," she snapped. "But stop wasting your time and do something with actual meaning rather than act as the cover up to your own sob story."

Stiles let out a low whistle. "You sting like a good scotch, Lydia."

"That's what I'm here for. Now you can continue working for my company in your old position but honestly I'd rather see you get paid more. Also we're friends now and I have harder time bossing you around."

"Sure seems like it," he laughed.

"This is as friends, not as a boss," she insisted, as if her behavior had changed at all. "I could pretty easily get you a job working as an assistant for somebody else. I know everybody."

"I know you do."

"Just name someone."

"I don't know if I want a job," Stiles admitted. "Maybe I should just quit all of this. Be some assistant to some hot shot in New York."

"You hate New York."

"But I love the Mets!"

Stiles could practically feel Lydia roll her eyes.

"Stiles, you love it in LA. You love your job. You love seeing all the background stuff of your favorite films. You have no reason to not be here other than you're afraid and frankly that's just stupid."

Stiles looked out the window of his bedroom. It was a dreary morning and all he saw was suburban houses. This wasn't his life. This wasn't his midrise apartment in downtown LA. This wasn't palm trees and studio lots. It was childhood and fresh air and it was nice, but it wasn't his life.

"Yeah," he sighed. "You're right."

"Name someone, anyone."

Stiles thought about it. "What do we tell Derek, about the mark? I can't just stop doing the job."

"I will figure it out. I will put a dummy on it. Eventually people will give up. They're all liars. It takes the guess work out of it. I don't have to worry I might miss something."

Stiles smiled. "Yeah, okay. You find me someone to work for."

She did. Two weeks later Stiles was back in LA working as the personal assistant to none other than Marin Morrell, a huge producer and Deaton's younger sister. A lot of his clients end up in her films. She was stony with sly I could kill you and you wouldn't even notice it smiles that gave Stiles the creeps, but Morrell knew how to pick a film. She held two Oscars and three Golden Globes as Executive Producer of a Best Picture, plus numerous other nominations. Stiles already knew exactly how she liked her Starbucks (venti dirty soy chai latte, no water, two pumps vanilla, three pumps pumpkin spice if it's in season) and her non-Starbucks (whatever sludge they're serving put in enough creamer that it matches my skin and then add two packets of Splenda). She was a bit of a ball buster but had quickly taken a shine to Stiles, asking his input on treatments and casting choices while she still snapped at other people who had worked with her for years.

Stiles had to preen a bit, when he wasn't questioning her sanity.

Derek was well under way filming the Gallagher Girls movie at some prep school in Connecticut that was closed for the summer so Stiles rarely heard from him, but he was looking forward to when they were in the same city again. They texted stupid things and for once Stiles felt like he was getting to know the side of Derek he only shared with his sisters. And better yet, that Derek was getting to know him. Maybe Melissa was right. Maybe something could happen with them.

Morrell snapped her fingers, never taking her eyes off the script she was reading. Stiles didn't even question, he just stood by and waited until she spoke. "Do you think I should sign onto this VB3 film? Reyes's script is really good."

Stiles didn't know how to answer. Having Morrell as a producer would really help the project, but she was very hands on and that might mean Stiles would have to be on set… with Derek. He was glad they were reaching a state of friendship, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for that. It's one thing to meet up with someone, it's another to see them every day for work.

Stiles shrugged. "I know they have Derek Hale on for the lead."

"Hmm. I'm not sure if I like him," she mused. "I could really see that Emmett Peck guy for this role."

Stiles bristled. "Derek's a great actor. He just doesn't get a lot of opportunity to show off his range."

She huffed amusement. "What range? He's more two dimensional than Ben Affleck."

"I'm sorry, but I have to disagree," Stiles stated.

Morrell actually looked up from the script for that. She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and Stiles had to think she may be planning his murder. "I forgot. You worked for him before coming here, didn't you."

Stiles nodded.

"It's good to see your loyalty. I'll think about it."

He gulped. He felt like he had passed some kind of test, but he couldn't be too sure. Lydia was never secret about wanting to kill someone. Morrell was a whole other ballgame.

Chapter 6

Stiles was fiddling with his shirt sleeve while sitting at the near empty table. Morrell sat on his left and there were four empty chairs. They were early. They were always early, Morrell believed in being the first to any occasion. They were having a meeting with Erica and Boyd to discuss a potential producing role. VB3 already had backers to get their movie off the ground, being as popular as they were, but this particular film could do with a bigger budget than their earlier work. There was also a spot for someone Morrell invited, which surprisingly Stiles didn't know who. And another spot for someone Erica and Boyd were dragging along. Stiles didn't like being in the dark.

The restaurant wasn't that busy at this time of day in between the lunch and dinner rush so Stiles just waited silently, checking his phone for email updates on what appointments Morrell may have in the future. Then Morrell pushed her seat back and stood. Stiles followed suit and looked around, expecting Erica and Boyd. He wasn't, however, expecting Danny.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Mahealani," Morrell smiled coyly.

Danny gave her a quick hug where they barely touched. "Thanks for having me." He then grinned his dimply 1000 watt smile at Stiles. "Stiles! I didn't know you would be here."

"I'm Morrell's new assistant," he explained, accepting Danny's offer of a hug.

Danny pulled back, keeping his arms on Stiles's biceps. "Because Derek's…," Danny's eyes glanced down to Stiles's hip quickly.

Stiles sighed and put his hands over Danny's. "It's complicated."

Danny snorted. "Understatement. Last I heard you were trying to find his mark-match."

"I wasn't trying to find them," Stiles protested, "I was systematically weeding out the people who came forward claiming to match when in reality they were fakes."

Danny hummed, clearly unimpressed by Stiles's remark.

Next to them, Morrell shifted her stance. Stiles looked over as she greeted Erica and Boyd walking over. And behind them, Derek Hale.

"Derek!" Stiles startled, dropping his hands. He only just realized Danny was still holding onto him. He was very touchy feely that way. Danny let go and turned to see Derek as well. They were all kind of frozen for a moment, staring at each other while Erica and Morrell chatted. Boyd took his seat and the rest followed.

Morrell gestured to Danny, "I'd like you to meet Danny Mahealani. If I come on as producer for your film I would like to secure him a spot as editor."

Stiles tried his best to take notes during the meeting but it was difficult with Derek sitting next to him, face like stone. Conversation died down some once their food arrived and Stiles was finally able to speak up. "I wasn't expecting you," Stiles said. "When did you get back to LA?"

"Last night," Derek huffed. "You friends with Mahealani?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, I've known him a long time. He's friends with Jackson, actually. We met when I started working as Lydia's assistant forever ago."

Danny laughed. "Yeah, you had that buzzcut back then."

"God, don't remind me," Stiles said turning back to Derek. "I thought it was a good idea to go back to my high school look or something stupid like that."

"Nah, it was cute. Made you look like a chipmunk," Danny smirked.

If it weren't the fact he was at a business meeting, Stiles would have tossed his bread roll at Danny's head. That little jerk knew exactly what he was doing.

"Is Greenburg in the car?" Stiles asked, changing the subject.

He noticed Derek's lips twitch slightly. A breath of a smile. "Yes."

They ate in a relaxed silence, but Stiles couldn't help but feel the way Derek would occasionally tense. He could only fathom why.

When they were parting ways, Danny gave him one last hug and Stiles tried to catch Derek before he disappeared into the town car. Luckily for Stiles, he knew exactly where Derek would have it waiting.

"Derek, wait!" Derek stilled, one leg already in the car. Greenburg leaned out a bit and waved. Stiles waved back before jogging up to Derek, who stepped fully out of the car. "We didn't really get the chance to talk due to the nature of that meal, but hi. Glad you're back in town."

"Yeah," Derek huffed.

"What?" Stiles asked.

"Nothing."

Stiles sighed. "No, Derek. Something's bothering you and I'm not a mind reader." Derek just crossed his arms and looked away. "Fine. Go back to the silent treatment. Just, if you have a free day and you wanted to get together," Stiles shrugged. He didn't know what he was asking. He didn't know why he was trying. He knew Derek for two years and despite the random act of friendship when Derek visited him in Beacon Hills… this was Derek. Standoffish and sullen and quiet. "Or, whatever."

He made his way back to Morrell's car and his phone pinged. It was from Greenburg.

I'll get you updated.

Idk why he's acting like this. He seemed excited to see you when we got here.

Thanks.

Stiles had to wonder about that. What had changed?

It was almost a week later when Greenburg texted saying to meet Derek at the ice rink. It was past 8 on a Sunday… they were closed. Derek must be having a private lesson for the movie. When Stiles got there, Greenburg let him in the back way and lead him to the bleachers. Sure enough, Derek was on the ice with a private coach doing hockey drills.

"They're just about to take a break," Greenburg said. "It's harder to keep him from overworking now that he's officially training for something." Stiles believed that. "My stomachs starting to go soft from all the donuts."

Stiles laughed. "You don't overdo it either, then, okay… David."

Greenburg side eyed him. "You still call me Greenburg in your head, don't you," he said, only a little crossly.

"Guilty as charged."

The coach blew his whistle and Derek glided to the gate, taking off his gloves and tossing them on top his bag. He pulled the mouth guard out and downed some water while Stiles and Greenburg made their way over. Derek obviously hadn't noticed him yet.

"Looking good," Stiles said with a low whistle once they were close enough. Derek jerked and got water all over his shirt. Stiles grinned stupidly at the idea he could ever startle Derek. "Did you used to play?"

Derek shook his head. "Maybe for like a year when I was eight, but not really." Derek looked between Stiles and Greenburg before settling back on Stiles. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles shrugged, pulling his thin hoodie closer. It was chilly inside the arena. "Greenburg asked me to meet you here. The coach any good?" Stiles jutted his chin towards the man on the rink rearranging the little orange cones.

Derek shook his head. "He's good, but Finstock is crazy."

Stiles laughed. He had heard about Finstock before. Normally he was just a personal trainer but he knew enough sports he often coached celebrities playing athletes. He was the one to get Chris Pratt into shape to be Star Lord and he worked with Quinton Aaron for The Blind Side. He was pretty well known, and yes, had a reputation for being crazy.

"Did you expect anything less?" Stiles asked.

Derek just shrugged and searched his bag, pulling out a protein bar. "How do you like working for Morrell?"

Stiles shrugged. He could almost feel the words they were tip-toing around. "I feel like I should fear for my life if I do anything wrong, but she seems to like me. So I guess I'm lucky."

"Why her?" he asked before tearing into his meal bar.

"Lydia picked her out. Said Morell needed someone and I was probably the only person that could handle her. I sort of believe it, now. She's gone through sixteen assistants in the last two years."

"That's worse than me."

Stiles nudged his shoulder. "You only went through one in the last two years."

"Before you," he said a bit curtly.

Stiles looked back out to the rink. "Yeah. Maybe that's my specialty. Can stabilize crazy demanding rich people."

Derek rolled his eyes. "That how you know Mahealani?"

Stiles snorted. "Danny was never a crazy demanding rich person."

"You two seemed pretty close," Derek said, his voice sounding scratchier than before.

Stiles looked at him, really trying to understand what the man was thinking. Derek was busying himself with his things: protein bar, bag full of gear, cleaning out his mouth guard, making sure his hockey stick didn't fall down. He never looked at Stiles.

"We used to date," Stiles said. "He was my last serious relationship. I really liked him." Despite everything, Stiles couldn't help but sound a little wistful.

Derek was silent for a few beats. "What happened?"

"He broke up with me," Stiles said, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. "He wanted to find his soulmate and I wasn't it."

"You don't believe in that stuff, right?" Derek asked. He sounded smaller than he was, a mouse the size of a man.

"I didn't," Stiles said. He tried to read Derek's face for some kind of hint as to what the man was thinking. Normally Derek's face was incredibly expressive even if most of the time he was expressing some level of disgruntlement. But right now, Stiles couldn't pick up anything other than a façade of calmness he was trying to hide behind.

"Did Danny find his soulmate?" Derek asked.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. Got the wedding invitation and everything."

"Do you still like him?" Derek asked, his face hidden as he readjusted his laces.

"No," Stiles admitted. "It took a long time. That breakup was really hard for me, but Danny and I are just friends now."

Derek stood up, putting his mouth guard in. "I have to go back out there," he said with a bit of a lisp as he tugged on his gloves. "Talk to you later, Stiles." Derek picked up his stick and skated to the other side of the rink where Finstock was waiting.

"Don't hurt yourself!" Stiles called out. Derek waved him off but didn't look back.

Greenburg walked over from where he had been waiting a handful of rows up. "Is there something I should know about between you two?" he asked as casually as possible.

Stiles watched Derek for a few moments longer and then shook his head. "I don't think so." Stiles turned and tried to smile. He wasn't sure it worked. "Thanks for inviting me, but I should go."

Greenburg nodded. "See you around, Stiles."

"Bye Greenburg," he winced. "David."

Greenburg just shook his head and shooed him away. Stiles made his way outside and got into his Prius. He had a handful of errands to run before he could make it home tonight.

It was an odd life, being a personal assistant. He may not be a butler but he often did the grocery shopping for Morrell and he used to cook for Derek (Morrell has a private chef). Stiles found he often forgot to stock his own fridge. And, well, anything to do with himself.

He had to get back to his neighborhood first before getting the groceries because he didn't want them sitting in his car for too long.

Stiles turned onto the highway, making a mental checklist of all the food he needed to stalk up on: tomatoes, lettuce, chicken, deli turkey, cucumbers, avocado…

Police sirens blared. At first Stiles wondered if he did something wrong. He was going about 10 over the speed limit but he was in the flow of traffic and plenty of cars were passing him. Then a car sped by him. Now the traffic wasn't bad and Stiles was going about 70 but this car was like a blur of his vision. Behind him lights swirled. Stiles tried pulling off to the side with the others who were realizing what was going on: a fucking high speed car chase.

A police car passed him. Stiles tried to focus on his driving but it was hard not to be curious. Then he saw something that made his stomach roll.

The car turned around.

On the highway.

And Stiles was right in its path.

Chapter 7

There was a screech of tires, a crunch of metal, and the fleeting thought at least I didn't have eggs in the car.

When Stiles woke up it was to the scent of banana pancakes and bacon. There was a strange too clean smell underneath the powerful aroma, like someone had made the pancakes with hand sanitizer. Then he heard the beeping, the subtle pattern of short and long that mimicked his heart in some kind of twisted Morse code.

He remembered glass and bright lights and people asking his name, the rumble of wheels as he laid on his back. Stiles groaned. His head hurt suddenly and he knew he was in a hospital.

Stiles opened his eyes, blinking against the overhead lights. Scott was there and Stiles couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. "Hey, bro."

"Stiles!" he cheered.

"How bad is it?" he asked.

Scott shook his head, the mess of hair flopping around like a different creature all together. "Not terrible. They put you under on the way here because you wouldn't stop thrashing, apparently. You've only been out for an hour. You've got a broken arm, and a concussion, but other than that you're golden. I brought breakfast foods!"

Stiles smiled up at Scott a little stupidly from the pain pills he no doubt had pumped into his system. "They let you in there with that?"

Scott grinned. "What can I say? I'm a charmer." Stiles laughed. Scott helped him sit up and then they ate together, Stiles a little clunky with this casted arm. A nurse came in and checked on him and said a doctor would be by in another hour to see how his concussion was holding up and then he could be released, depending.

When Stiles finally made it to the bathroom he saw that Scott was underplaying his injuries a bit. He had felt the medical tape on his neck and chin but now he saw that he was covered in little gauze patches and a handful of butterfly bandages on the side of his face where the glass must have cut. It wasn't too bad, though. He'd heal easily enough. It wasn't like this was the first time Stiles was in a car crash. He almost totaled his Jeep in high school crashing into a tree during a bad storm. There was a small scar just above his hairline from that particular head wound. Stiles would be fine.

Besides, how many people got to say they were a part of a high speed car chase?

Just as Stiles was washing his hands, careful of the cast, he heard someone burst into his room. Lydia's sharp voice demanded where Stiles was.

"I'm fine!" he called out, still wiping his hands. Stiles opened the door and froze. Derek stood behind Lydia, eyes wide and worried. Lydia raced up and flung her arms around him, squeezing tight. Stiles hugged her instinctually. "I'm fine," he repeated, softer.

"I saw the whole thing on TV," Lydia whispered. "And then Scott called."

"You called Lydia?" he asked, surprised. His dad, sure. Stiles had already chatted for a bit with his old man to assure him everything was okay.

"Well, duh," Scott said. "She's as much your sister as I am your brother."

Stiles smiled fondly at Scott for understanding how close he and Lydia actually were despite their odd dynamic. "Lydia's mom never dated my dad," he protested with a laugh. Stiles let go of Lydia and looked to Derek who was still just standing there, staring. "Hey."

"Hey."

Lydia slapped his arm, the one without a cast. "Don't ever do that to me again, Stiles. I thought you were dead!"

He tucked a strand of her strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. "Promise."

Lydia took a step back and looked between Stiles and Derek. "I called Derek after I got word. I knew he would want to be here for you."

Stiles was expecting some sly look from her but instead she pointedly stared at Derek, tilting her head just so that Stiles recognized as a type of command. He wasn't sure what Lydia had said to Derek beforehand but obviously it was something important by the silent conversation now. Then Lydia stepped further back and grabbed Scott's wrist.

"Come on," Lydia told Scott, who seemed confused but willing to follow orders and leave Stiles alone with Derek. They marched out the door with a quick thumbs up from Scott.

"Hey," Stiles said again once the door to his room was closed

"Hey." Derek shuffled his feet a little and looked out the window. "How are you feeling?"

Stiles shrugged. "Not too bad," he admitted. "I'm on some pain killers and my face is crazy itchy right now, but other than that I'll be cleared to leave once the doctor comes back to check on me."

Derek nodded. "Good. That's good."

"Yeah."

Silence stretched between them. Stiles saw the tension around Derek's eyes and the way his nails were bitten. "Are… are you okay?" Stiles finally asked.

Derek snapped his head round to look at Stiles. "Yeah. Of course."

"Derek…"

"You were in a car crash, Stiles," he barked.

Stiles put his hands up in defense, which drew attention to his cast. Derek's nostrils flared. "I know, Derek. I was there. But I'm okay. And you seem kind of-"

"You could have died," he cut in, voice wavering.

Stiles blinked and suddenly saw himself in Derek's eyes as something very different than he previously imagined. Two years of working by Derek's side and he wasn't the only one to get attached and still act like a nothing affected him. But Derek had come to his house to become friends and Derek had come to his hospital room to make sure he was okay. Derek wasn't good with people. He was good with fans and he was good with press but he wasn't good with people. But he tried, from time to time.

"I didn't die," Stiles said. "I'm right here."

And it was very possible Derek saw Stiles as someone else he didn't want to lose.

"I'm right here."

Derek's chest heaved up and down as he blinked away the shine in his eye. Derek swallowed thickly and ran a hand over his face.

"Derek," he said gently, walking over with careful steps. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He placed a tentative hand on Derek's arm. "I may not be around all the time anymore, but I'm here. I'll always be here." For you, he wanted to say. It hung in the air between them. Derek looked up and they stared. Stiles wasn't sure he was even breathing. Stiles took his hand away, unable to keep eye contact any longer. "It's almost midnight," he said. "You should get going. Early rise tomorrow, right?"

Derek nodded. He shuffled his feet a bit more before turning the door handle. Derek opened the door just a crack before looking over his shoulder at Stiles. "Don't… don't get hurt like that again," he said with such weight it took the breath out of Stiles's lungs.

"I don't plan on it," he whispered.

Then Derek was gone and Stiles was left with a feeling in his chest like he had just fallen a great height and discovered he had wings.

When Scott came back, Stiles was sitting on his hospital bed with his face buried into his hands. "How'd it go?" Scott asked.

Stiles just shook his head. "I need a box of Little Debbies stat. And maybe a milkshake."

Scott sat down next to him and pulled him into a side hug. "As soon as we get out of here we'll gorge on junk food until we pass out. Lydia made sure Morrell gives you the week off and I'm between projects. It'll be just like high school."

Sure to his word, they did a midnight run to Ralphs and picked up some junk food and ate until they passed out and then woke up sometime after noon. The played video games the rest of the day and repeated the gorge fest. The next day Stiles sent Scott home. Stiles had something he needed to do.

Stiles called an Uber because his car was still in the shop and his hand would make driving difficult anyway. The doorman at Derek's let him in with a smile even though he hadn't been around in months. He made his way up the elevator and to Derek's loft and knocked on the door and waited. Derek would be home. It was his day off and Greenburg was making sure he wasn't hitting the gym now that he was doing the hockey training with Finstock.

The door opened and a beautiful tall woman stood there. For a split second Stiles thought Derek had met someone before he recognized Derek's sister, Laura. "Did you dye your hair?"

Laura stepped back to let Stiles in and twisted a strand of blonde hair. "No, it's a wig," she said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I dyed my hair. What do you think?"

"I didn't recognize you at first, but it's not bad," he said. "Where's Derek?"

"In the shower. Not bad? That's the best I get?" Laura smirked, flopping down on the couch and picking up the bowl of chips. "How have you been, Stilinski?"

Stiles sat down next to her. "Confused and achey."

She laughed. "He misses you, you know," Laura said overly casual while tossing some chips in her mouth. "Called me up all the time when you quit. Made me come over after your accident. Feeling okay?"

Stiles nodded a bit numbly. "Yeah, nothing a couple aspirin can't handle now."

"Good," she said smiling. "You know, I might sneak out while he's still in the bathroom." Stiles gave her a terrified look. She knew, somehow. She must know. "Oh don't look like that. He's not going to bite your head off. He just, he needs a little push sometimes, you know?"

"I was his assistant for two years," he reminded her.

Laura laughed again. "That's the longest anyone has ever stood Derek's antics," she mused standing up. "Although what I've seen of Greenburg, he seems resilient."

Stiles laughed. "Yeah." He picked up some chips and ate a few. "But, just out of curiosity, why do you think Derek needs a push?"

She smirk grew as she grabbed her jacket and wiped her hands on her jeans. "You worked for him for two years, Stiles," Laura said. "And he talked about you not negatively for I'd say eighteen months of that time." She winked. "See you later, Stiles. Maybe you'll get to come to our next Hale sibling lunch."

Stiles watched her, mouth hanging open with a pile of mushy chips ready to fall out. The sound of the shower shut off and Laura gave him a gleeful evil grin and snuck out the front door with a finger to her lips.

"Laura! Have you seen my socks!"

"They're under your bed, Derek!" Stiles shouted back. There was a loud banging sound and Derek cursing. "They're always under your bed!"

Derek poked his head past the wall at the top of the staircase. "Stiles?" His hair was a wet mess plastered to his forehead and he wasn't wearing a shirt yet, just a pair of jeans and a belt and damn. Sure, Stiles had seen it a lot, but he couldn't help but let his eyes linger this time.

"You really buffed up for this role. I didn't know that was even possible considering your previous physic."

Even from this distance, Stiles could see the deep blush crawling up Derek's neck and cheeks. "Thanks," he muttered before darting back into his room. A minute later Derek was rushing down the spiral steps with a shirt on and still no socks. "What are you doing here? Where's Laura?"

Stiles stood up and shrugged, trying to put his hands in his pockets and then getting his hand stuck a bit with the cast. "Laura just left. I just, I wanted to stop by."

Derek walked over and Stiles noticed how he tugged at his shirt sleeves. It was cute. "How are you feeling? Your cuts seem to be healing well."

Stiles touched the side of his face gently. "Yeah. Looks like I won't have any noticeable scars. I'm good."

"Right."

They stood there for some moments, just shifting their weight and darting their eyes. Eventually Stiles got frustrated. "This is stupid! Why are we always like this?"

Derek shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jesus Christ," Stiles muttered and took a few steps forward and squared his shoulders and reached forward and took Derek's face in his hands and prayed he wasn't making a mistake. Stiles planted his lips on Derek's, letting them slide together and feeling the heat of their bodies, the up and down rise of Derek's chest against his own.

And then nothing.

Stiles let go of Derek's face and took a big step back, eyes wide and mouth gapping. "Sorry. Sorry. I shouldn't have. That wasn't appropriate."

Derek looked like someone had taken the floor out beneath him.

"I should just…" Stiles took a few more steps backwards when fingers circled around his wrist and spun him closer. Then hands were on his face and Derek was kissing him and god it was perfect. They fit together seamlessly. Their lips pulled apart, hovering just a breath away from each other. "Okay, that was nice."

Derek blinked a few times and took a half step back. "Um."

"Was that nice?" Stiles asked, already questioning everything.

"Yeah," Derek said, nodding his head a little quickly. "That was nice."

They stared at each other for a few moments more. "Okay, this is still weird."

Derek nodded again. "Yep. Still weird."

Stiles ducked his head, unable to hold back a grin. "But, you like me, right?" He looked up to see Derek do the same, almost trying to hide his face.

"Yeah. I like you."

Stiles reached out with his uncasted arm and laced their fingers together. "So… do you want to take this slow?"

Derek looked at their hands and then at Stiles's lips. There was a hunger in his eyes that Stiles hadn't seen before. "Not really," he admitted with a half smirk.

Stiles felt like his heart was in his throat. He grinned stupidly at Derek and inched closer. "I could be okay with that," he said before kissing Derek softly again.

Derek rubbed his thumb over Stiles's knuckles and looked at Stiles deeply. "What if… aren't you worried that someone will come forward one day? The world's seen my mark now. It's only a matter of time before the mark-match sees it."

And then Stiles's heart was in the bottom of his stomach.

Chapter 8

Stiles froze. He shot himself in the foot on this, he realized. His mind raced for an answer of any kind to come to his lips but all he could think was the taste of Derek and the way his leg twitched, yelling at him to run away and call Lydia.

"Not that I would…" Derek trailed off, his fingers digging into the skin on Stiles's hand just a bit. "I mean, I would like to promise I wouldn't, but. And I know that Danny leaving for his soulmate was hard on you. I just don't…" Derek ducked his head, forehead creasing as Stiles was still unable to speak. "I don't know how serious you are." Derek paused, waiting to see if Stiles would speak but he was tongue tied. "And I don't want to be the reason you get hurt again."

Derek let go of Stiles and stepped back. Stiles reached out and grabbed Derek's arm, not wanting him to go. Fuck. He fucked this up. He fucked this up so bad.

"I know who has your mark-match," Stiles blurted, eyes wide and blood burning in his veins.

"What?" Derek whispered, his face fallen slack.

"I've always known," Stiles continued, not sure where his voice was coming from. His brain certainly wasn't working. "I saw their mark before I ever saw yours." It was the truth, after all.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Derek asked, taking another step back, a look on his face like a dying fawn.

"You had met them before," Stiles continued, his throat getting sore from holding back feelings. "And they didn't think you liked them."

Derek's face fell, a weird mixture of emotion behind his eyes. "Oh."

Just that, just oh.

"Who are they?" Derek asked, his voice full of torture. It was like he didn't want to know but had to. Stiles could understand. There's something strange and powerful behind the identity of your soulmate.

"I-," Stiles started, his voice catching in his throat. "I should go." Stiles stumbled over his own feet backpedaling to the front door.

"Wait!" Derek called out, reaching forward. He grabbed Stiles's casted arm and Stiles yelled out at the jerk of motion in pain. "Shit, sorry." Derek dropped him like a hot poker. "I mean. Don't just… you don't have to tell me I just thought. If they know about me I should know about them." There was a moment of silence as Stiles cradled his broken arm to his chest. "Are you okay?"

Stiles nodded, his eyes stinging a bit. "Do you have any aspirin?" Stiles asked through his teeth.

"Yeah, in the bathroom," Derek said. Stiles should have known that, he used to stock the place. "I'll-"

"No, I'll get it," Stiles said, rushing past him. Stiles slammed the door behind him with his foot and thunked his head against the hard wood. This was not going well. He fucked everything up and his arm hurt and Derek was outside. And Derek was outside.

Stiles stumbled to the medicine cabinet and flung it open, his body shaking. There was a bottle of pills on the middle shelf that he reached for, unthinkingly with his casted hand. The hard, clunky wrap knocked the contents of the shelf down, clattering into the sink. His vision swam. Everything was going wrong. Everything was.

Stiles gasped for air, his reflection warped from the angle of the open medicine cabinet.

There was a pounding at the door. "Stiles! Stiles are you okay!?"

He tried to answer, he did, but the words caught in his throat. The pounding continued, feeling like it resonated in his skull.

"Stiles, I can hear you freaking out in there. Are you having a panic attack? I will break this door down if you don't answer me!"

He tried to form words, he tried to think, he tried his shaky hands again, blindly reaching for the bottle of pills in the sink.

There was a jeering sound of wood splinting and Stiles looked up as he slid to the floor. Derek raced over to him, unconcerned with the mess from the medicine cabinet. Warm hands reached over and turned Stiles around, Derek sinking to the floor and pulling Stiles so his back to was Derek's chest. Strong arms wrapped around him. It was comforting and confusing all at once, an inner turmoil making everything hard to wrap his head around. This man was his soul mate. His soul mate. And he was taking care of Stiles and Stiles was lying to him and Stiles never gave him a chance and Stiles messed everything up.

"I messed everything up," Stiles wheezed.

"No," Derek whispered. "You didn't. It's okay."

Stiles gasped, clawing at his chest as if it would open up his airways. Derek's arms were in the way and Stiles latched on, gripping the forearms with all his strength. He couldn't breathe.

"Stiles, calm down. Breathe with me," Derek reminded him, taking deep breaths. The slow movement of his chest giving Stiles a steady rhythm to concentrate on.

"What do you need?" Derek asked when Stiles was a little calmer but still sporadically wheezing.

His throat was raw from the tears he hadn't realized he shed. "Water," he croaked, trying to reach up to the sink like it would magically pour him a glass.

Derek made Stiles take a few more deep breaths before slowly getting out from behind him and stood. Derek propped Stiles up against the bathroom wall and grabbed the cup Laura always forgot by the faucet, filling it to the top and bringing it back to Stiles. "Here," Derek said, lifting it to Stiles's lips.

Stiles took a sip and coughed on the water. Instinctively he reached out for the cup, but ended up knocking Derek's hand. Water splashed over the brim of the cup and Stiles jolted as it hit his shirt, further knocking the glass and spilling its entire contents over him. Stiles gasped at the sensation, blinking. "Well I think that's why I'm the assistant," Stiles managed to say, his heartrate coming down to something close to normal.

After a few beats, he and Derek started laughing. It was that hysterical kind that left Stiles breathless in an entirely different manner. Derek rested his forehead against Stiles and Stiles took a breath in of Derek's scent and then he stilled. Derek still laughed above him, but Stiles was all consumed by the sight of it, the scent of Derek, the way his lips still tingled from their kiss earlier and the memory of his taste.

Derek stopped laughing slowly, his eyes catching the way Stiles was staring at him. Stiles propped against the wall, Derek hovering over him, their noses just an inch apart, heaving breathing making the air between them dense; it was electric. Stiles swallowed dryly. Derek's eyes tracked the motion. He backed up, creating more space between them. "Let's get you out of those clothes."

Stiles almost said I should just go, but he didn't. Derek helped him to his feet and made Stiles follow him through the apartment and up the stairs to Derek's bedroom.

"Here, lift your arms up," Derek said.

Stiles nodded his head slowly, his mind still stuck in some other place back in the downstairs bathroom with Derek laughing and a spark of energy. Stiles raised his arms and let Derek reach for the hem of his wet shirt. Stiles felt his stomach clench, muscles flexing involuntarily at the sensation of just him being near. Derek peeled the shirt off and tossed it at the hamper on the other side of the bed.

For a few moments they just stood there. Stiles felt more vulnerable than he ever had before, Derek's eyes roaming over his bare torso.

"I'll get you a towel." Derek walked past quickly to the master bath. Stiles shuddered from something more than his wet chest and pants as he stood there alone, however brief the time was. Derek came back and after a beat, handed Stiles the towel. "Do you need, uh, do you need help with your pants? Wet jeans can't be co-." Derek froze, a frown forming on his lips and eyebrows pulling together. "What is..?"

Stiles followed Derek's line of sight and looked down. His jeans were dragging down just slightly when Stiles reached up to dry his chest, showing off the bit of skin he hadn't been able to cover with the cast inhibiting how well he handle the patches. Just the slightest curve of tanner skin poked out around his hipbone.

Derek's eyes snapped to Stiles's. It was barely an inch and a half of skin, but Stiles knew it was enough. The exact size and curve of the top of the crescent moon two little pale patches where the crisscrossed lines reached the end. It was unforgettable if it was your own.

Wordlessly, Stiles undid his pant button with the clumsy fingers of one hand. He unzipped his jeans and tugged them down slightly, his boxers slipping a bit with them.

"It was you," Derek whispered.

"I'm sorry."

"And you never told me?"

"I'm sorry," Stiles repeated.

"Did you know before?" Derek asked.

Stiles shook his head. "Not since that day in your trailer."

"That's why you quit?"

Stiles nodded. "I couldn't, not knowing…" Stiles trailed off. He couldn't look Derek in the eye. "I'm sorry, I should," Stiles backed away again, hoping to get downstairs and pull his pants back up and hope no one gave him weird looks as he walked around the city without a shirt on.

Derek raced past him and shut the door to his bedroom. "Stop running away!" Derek snapped, standing in front of the door with his arms splayed. "Stop it! That's all you ever do. And I-" his words cut off, lost or unwilling to speak them. "I ran to you, Stiles. God damn it! I ran to you."

Stiles zipped his pants back up and tugged them to try and cover the mark, but it curved above his hip and it didn't matter anyway. Hiding it wouldn't change anything.

"What do you want me to say, Derek?" Stiles said, feeling deflated, exhausted from his panic attack and the rollercoaster of emotions he's gone through. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance, I'm sorry I lied to you. What?"

"Just tell me why?"

"I thought you hated me!" Stiles yelled, a sudden bubbled of anger exploding on his tongue. "I thought I was just someone you had to tolerate, let alone liked. And I never believed in soulmates. I thought I could forget it, like it didn't matter. But it did. Okay? It did, because I was in love with you even when I hated you, long before I ever knew. Okay!? Okay."

All the angry tension seemed to bleed out of Derek's body, replaced by something subtler and unnamed. "You love me?"

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know why I kissed you," Stiles said, ignoring the question. "We were hardly at the point of being friends. This was a mistake."

Derek walked closer, stopping about a foot away. Stiles saw his bare feet, toes flexing on the carpet.

"Well, it did take me by surprise, but I also thought you hated me despite my epic crush on you everyone makes fun of me for."

Stiles looked up through his lashes, frowning. "You have a crush on me?"

"Well, I did kiss you back," Derek said gently.

Stiles's lip twitched, trying not to smile. "Who's this 'everyone' that makes fun of you?"

"Laura, Cora," Derek listed, inching closer carefully, "Lydia –"

"Lydia knew?" Stiles asked, surprised.

Derek nodded, "Since about four months before the photo leak." Derek put a hand on Stiles's elbow, fingers barely touching. "Boyd and Eric in recent months. Greenburg."

"That's your whole social circle, isn't it," Stiles said blankly and a little amazed.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I thought you just didn't like change, when I left," Stiles said, looking over Derek's features in awe. They were barely an inch away now.

"I didn't like not having you around," Derek admitted. "And I realized I hadn't made a relationship with you where you would want to stay. And I freaked out."

"And called me incessantly for two weeks before driving all the way from San Fran to visit me," Stiles said, a smile slowly blooming on his face.

"Yeah, that," Derek said, looking away briefly as a blush tinged his cheeks.

"You're kind of a jerk," Stiles told him, his voice barely more than a breath. "And a giant asshole, and a bit of a dick, too."

"So are you," Derek murmured.

"Yeah," Stiles sighed, "I am."

They stared at each other, Stiles trying to map the crystal lines in Derek's impossibly colored eyes.

"Can I kiss you now," Derek asked softly.

Stiles nodded, leaning forward until their lips were moving against each other. Then he immediately pulled back. "Can I get some aspirin first?" The throb in his arm was coming back like no one's business. "No spilling water all over me this time."

Derek smirked. "I don't know, it's a good look on you."

Stiles blushed and sat down on the bed as Derek left for the master bath. He came back with a cup of water and two little tabs of sweet relief. "You're a god among men, Derek Hale," Stiles said, before downing the pills. "When you're actually being nice."

Derek sat down next to him. "So, soulmates."

Stiles nodded and put the cup down on the bedside table. "Soulmates."

"It's a lot to take in."

Stiles nodded again. "Want to table this conversation until after we make out?" Stiles offered.

"Definitely."

Derek rolled over him in one fluid motion, carefully pushing Stiles further up the bed without jostling his broken arm. Derek ran a hand down Stiles's bare chest and Stiles twitched in anticipation.

"God, you're so fucking sexy," Stiles blurted. "Why am I the only one without a shirt on?" Derek smirked. He leaned back and pulled his shirt off, tossing it across the room. "That's more like it."

Derek leaned back down, kissing at Stiles's neck, under his jaw, behind his ear. "You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this," Derek said with a nip at Stiles's earlobe. "About you."

Stiles shuddered under the attention. He kept his casted arm to the side, touching Derek's back and side as much as possible with one set of fingers. "You work out, all the time," Stiles moaned as Derek moved above him and Derek's thigh settled between his legs. "And I would see you get out of the shower sometimes," Stiles whined. "It was torture."

"You chew on all your pens," Derek said against Stiles's lips, grinding down against him. They moaned into each other's mouths. "You chew on everything."

Between them, Derek reached down and starting tugging down Stiles's pants. "Holy fuck, yes," Stiles said, scrambling with his free hand for Derek's jeans. Stiles tugged down the side as best he could. His hand skimmed over Derek's mark in the process and Derek jerked back, flushed and wild, Stiles's own breath rocketing.

They pulled back, Derek hovering over him, eyes darting between each other and where Stiles's hand rested just above Derek's mark.

"What the fuck was that?" Derek asked.

Keeping their eyes locked, Stiles slipped his fingers lower and touched Derek's mark again. Something like electricity jolted between them, a shuddering ecstasy. Derek's eyes fluttered back in pleasure. "Shit," he bite out, reaching down to stroke Stiles's mark.

Stiles nearly came right there and he wasn't even fully hard yet.

"Well I guess rom-coms weren't making that shit up," Stiles breathed heavily. He started laughing, giddy at the pure euphoria that was rushing through him. Derek kissed him again, laughing against his mouth.

"This is it," Stiles whispered in awe as Derek started mouthing his neck again. "We're it."

Derek bit lightly at his neck and rolled off of him. Stiles whined but Derek leaned in and kissed his lips. "Shut up. I'm just finally taking your pants off. You're still wearing shoes."

Stiles laughed. "Yes, good."

"You're such a prick," Derek said, tugging off Stiles's jeans.

"Shut up and fuck me."

Derek grinned wolfishly as he kicked off his own pants. "I don't know, maybe I want to do this properly. Take you on a few dates, have a few discussions about what being a soulmate means." Derek toyed with the top of his boxer-briefs.

Stiles's mouth watered watching it. "Don't be a gentleman on my account," Stiles said, waiting.

There was such a devilish look in Derek's eye. Stiles knew this was going to be something different. Derek peeled off his underwear and the sight of Derek, fully bare, was breathtaking.

"No one's ever seen me like this before," he admitted almost shyly. "Never slept with someone without my patch before."

Stiles sat up and reached over. "You're beautiful," he said reverently, skimming his hand over Derek's stomach and hip and mark. With a smirk, he let his hand trail lower. He got his fingers around Derek's cock and began stroking him, twisting the way Stiles liked and watching to see Derek stutter at the pressure. "Now come on, I need you in me like yesterday."

Derek growled and pushed Stiles back onto the bed, pulling Stiles's boxers off in one fluid motion before sucking on a finger and reaching low. Stiles's back arched against the mattress as Derek's finger toyed with his rim.

"Lube?" Stiles asked.

"In the sock drawer," Derek said, already reaching for the dresser table.

Stiles laughed. "No wonder you never put them away. What else do you hide in there?'

Derek rolled his eyes while he flicked open the lube bottle. "Some things we could try out, but maybe not right now."

"Oooh, kinky," Stiles grinned.

Derek looked him square in the eye as he reached down again. The slick fingers trailed around his opening and then Derek stuck one finger in. Stiles squirmed for more pressure, already trying to fuck himself on Derek's hand.

"Come on, Derek. You can speed this up."

Derek stuck a second finger in, gently opening the area. Stiles grabbed Derek's dick again with a tight grip. "I won't move until you're ready to stick it in me," Stiles whispered hotly into Derek's ear. The other man shuddered above him and began working Stiles's ass like he was fishing for gold, a third finger joining and twisting and curving and and and- Stiles bit into Derek's shoulder to hold back a shout as Derek hit a place that felt like heaven.

Stiles reached for the lube with his casted hand, fumbling with the bottle a bit before he finally let go of Derek and squirted some onto his free hand. He then slicked Derek up quickly. "Come on, come on."

"Someone's impatient," Derek huffed, sounding wrecked as it is.

"I cannot tell you the places my mind has gone since knowing about us. And I never thought-," Stiles bit his tongue and then jutted his head forward to catch Derek's mouth. They kissed deeply as Derek positioned himself.

"No condom?" Derek asked, suddenly realizing how fast they were going.

"Derek," Stiles groaned. "I plan on fucking you for the rest of my life. I think we're past condoms."

Derek nodded breathlessly and eased in, hitching Stiles's legs over his hips.

"Fuck, yes," Stiles stuttered, feeling full and whole and altogether more alive than any sexual act previously. He thrust back onto Derek's dick. He was ready. God, they were ready.

Derek began moving, picking up tempo rapidly. Each thrust felt like an explosion as their hips rubbed together, skin against skin, marks touching the other's body with every movement.

"This isn't going to last long," Derek choked out.

Stiles bit against Derek's shoulder again, trying desperately to hold it in. "I'll be surprised if we make it past a minute," he huffed. "I don't care. We'll just- ah, ju- just. Just keep. Mmmmm."

"Just keep having sex?" Derek offered with a deep jut of his hips.

"Yeah," Stiles breathed. "That."

Stiles reached for his own dick. He could probably come without it even being touched at this point, but he needed it, he needed it so bad. He slicked up his cock before Derek batted his hand away and took over. The double sensation was almost too much.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," Stiles whimpered.

Derek locked his lips with Stiles and thrust hard a few more times before his hips stuttered and Stiles cold feel himself being filled with cum. The broken moan Derek let out, low and gravely, against Stiles's lips was enough to send Stiles over the edge, bursting between their stomachs with a shout. He scrambled to kiss Derek deeper, fuller, locking his legs behind Derek's back to keep him inside even as Stiles could feel their cocks soften.

"What was that," Stiles whispered as they calmed down, chests heaving, "forty-five seconds?"

"Just about," Derek laughed, kissing the underside of Stiles's jaw. "We should get cleaned up."

Stiles shook his head, tugging Derek's body closer to him with all the limbs he could afford. "Stay. We'll have shower sex later."

Derek nosed at Stiles's temple. "I like how you think."

"Yeah, I'm pretty great."

Derek kissed him just under his eye. "And you want to fuck me for the rest of your life?"

"Just another one of my brilliant ideas," Stiles said with a grin.

"When this gets out we're going to be in tabloids for months," Derek told him, a little bit of sadness creeping into his eyes.

Stiles reached up and smoothed out the crease between his eyebrows. "That's okay. As long as you still like me, right?"

"I've always kind of liked you," Derek said, rolling them to their sides so he didn't have to expend energy leaning up.

"You had a poor way of showing it," Stiles reminded him.

"Yeah," Derek sighed, "I know."

"Hey," Stiles said, darting in for a quick kiss. "As long as I know now. That's all that matters."

"You sure?"

Stiles nodded. "I'll forgive you for being dickbag if you forgive me for being an asshat?"

Derek smiled and kissed Stiles slowly, something richer and filled with promise. "Sure. I can live with that."

Stiles nestled into Derek's chest, already feeling a little gross from the cum stuck on his stomach and starting to drip out between his legs, but he didn't care. This was it. This was everything.

Chapter 9

After a nap and some awesome but strange shower sex where Stiles had to wrap his cast in a trash bag, Stiles and Derek got dressed, sat on the couch, and decided to try and figure things out. Now that they were well past fighting over withholding information and showing affection and not just snide remarks, and that a lot of their initial sexual tension had been spent, there was nothing else to do but… sit awkwardly next to each other and figure out what happens next.

"How does this even work," Stiles groused. "What? Do we come out as matches, get hitched, and saddle off into the sunset."

Derek huffed and shrugged his shoulders. "We could try dating first."

Stiles glanced over to Derek and couldn't help the smile toying on his lips. "So you really do want to do this like a gentleman, even if we already skipped ahead to the bed part."

Derek looked over, fingers playing with the end of his shirt sleeve. "I want to spend time with you that isn't full of nuptial obligation. I don't want to worry about wedding planning or joint bank accounts or if you wanted to move in or if we wanted to find a new place or last names or life insurance policies just yet. I want to…" Derek shrugged again, looking away with a blush rising rapidly on his cheeks and ears. "I want to make sure I know all your favorite foods, and what to get you when you're sick, and spend time sneaking off between takes to make out and I don't know. Lots of things. Without the stress."

Stiles bumped his shoulder with Derek. "You know, you're not half bad at this when you actually open your mouth."

Derek leaned over and kissed him squarely on the lips. Stiles melted into the touch, letting Derek pull away after a few moments.

"I can't believe a few hours ago I didn't even know," Derek said softly, swiping his thumb gently underneath Stiles's eye. "But it's almost like a part of me did anyway. I couldn't imagine it being anyone else."

Stiles bit his lip and rested his head against Derek's shoulder to help hide the blush burning his face. "I freaked out when I learned it was you. I kept trying to convince myself it didn't mean anything. But I was already gone on you and it's stupid but I was just afraid. Because as much as everything was telling me that this was it, this was right, I couldn't help but think there was no universe where my dumb crush could be so much more."

They were silent like that for a while, just breathing each other in as Derek began playing with Stiles's hand and Stiles nosed at the crook of Derek's neck. It was already starting to feel like they've done this forever. Now that they were no longer resisting, it felt like natural.

"I have to go home," Stiles sighed into Derek's shoulder. He wanted to stay over. He wanted to tangle up with Derek again in his bed, he wanted to feel the fullness of Derek inside him and he electricity of their marks against each other. He wanted to fall asleep in Derek bed and wake up next to him in the morning. But Stiles had a job and obligations and so did Derek and it was time to leave.

Derek walked him to the door when they finally managed to stand up from the couch. "I'll see you soon, right?"

Stiles couldn't help but smile. "I'll swing by after your promo tomorrow. I still have a few days off from Morrell."

Derek nodded and leaned in and kissed him one last- three last times before Stiles really, truly, finally, had to leave.

When Stiles got home, the first thing he did was text Scott saying he needed to come over tomorrow and celebrate. Then he debated calling his dad, but decided to bar that conversation until later. Then he called Lydia.

"Hello?" she answered. It was an odd time for Stiles to be calling her, he assumed, that she didn't normally start phone calls mid jog.

"How come you never told me Derek had a crush on me?"

Stiles could practically hear Lydia perk up and smirk on the other end. "Why, Stiles, how did you find out Derek had a crush on you?"

"Lydia," he said.

"I didn't tell you for the same reason I didn't tell Derek who had his mark-match. I was being a good friend to both of you and keeping your secrets. Besides, would you have believed me if I tried setting you two up as soon as I found out? No. You had to pull your head out of your ass first. Which I'm assuming you did?" she asked, sounding hopeful.

Stiles sighed. "You could say that."

She squealed and Stiles had to hold the phone away from his ear for a few seconds. "Thank god. Seeing the two of you dance around each other was torture."

"I really don't have any clue how you kept your mouth shut," he said.

"Are you at home right now? I'm coming over and I'm bringing wine. Oh! I have so many ideas of how to play this. I've been tentatively been speaking with Vanity Fair to see if they would do an exclusive about Derek's match. But if they fall through I know I can get People, but I think I'll shoot for Entertainment Weekly. They love Derek there."

Stiles closed his eyes and suffered himself to his fate.

Lydia did come over and they drank wine and gossiped about the day he had. And the next day Stiles saw Derek and they got dinner together, not just at the same time same place, and then traded blow jobs like they were dying of thirst. Then the next day Scott came over, they celebrated with booze and video games until Stiles could go and meet Derek at his place. Then the next Stiles spent following Derek around like he was his assistant again, only Greenburg got everything. Then Stiles had to go back to work and Stiles only got to see Derek on his day off, but Stiles was slowly manipulating Morrell's schedule so that he and Derek would have the same days completely work free. Then Stiles remembered to call his dad after Scott let it slip to Melissa that he and Derek had gotten together. And then Stiles got his cast off and then the sex got bumped up to another level. Derek had apparently been extra gentle before. It was fantastic.

Then Stiles and Derek did an interview with Vanity Fair, coming out publicly and sharing the story of how Stiles quit as Derek's assistant the second he found out they were matches and kept up the charade because "he wanted to spend time getting to know Derek as just friends first." Lydia made him say that. It sounded more put together than "I freaked out and ran away." They shared their relationship, where they were at, where they were going, when they could expect to hear wedding bells: "sometime in the distant future. We still have a lot to figure out before then, but I have no doubt we'll end up there."

Then Stiles was a mini celebrity, people recognizing him most of the time he stood next to Derek. He was really very glad he wasn't an actual celebrity. Stiles didn't think he could handle that kind of attention.

Besides, he got all the attention he needed from Derek, now.

Then Stiles brought Derek as his plus one to Danny and Ethan's wedding, their paw print like marks peaking past the cuffs of their tuxes on their left wrists. And Stiles danced with Derek, dreaming up their own wedding. Stiles saw soft blues to accent Derek's eyes. Maybe a beach wedding. The best part about marrying Derek was that he could get pretty extravagant and not have to worry about money.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best thing, but it was a nice plus.

That night they made love like touching each other's bodies was a rare event and each lick and kiss and bite and thrust was in pure reverence of each other, whispering I love you, I love you, I love you.

Then all of a sudden it was their one year anniversary and they had to celebrate on set of the VB3 film Derek had been training so hard for.

"You know," Stiles said, slipping into Derek's trailer as the star changed for his next scene. "It's a really good thing you and Allison play characters who can't stand each other because this animosity is reading on the camera."

Derek snorted, pulling off his shorts. "It's not her fault her aunt's a crazy bitch, but it is her fault she refuses to acknowledge it."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "It's amusing, is all. Allison was a total sweetheart when she dated Scott. It's hard to reconcile it with this stone cold attitude she keeps throwing you." Stiles walked behind Derek and tugged up at the hem of his tee-shirt.

"Stiles," Derek whined as Stiles brushed his fingers over Derek's stupidly toned abs. "We don't have time for this."

"It's our anniversary, Derek," Stiles said into the nape of Derek's neck, pressing a soft kiss there. "And yes we do. They're filming Deucalion's long scene right now and you know how much of a drama queen he is. He's going to insist on ten takes, at least." Stiles pulled the shirt over Derek's head, who lifted his arms in assistance. Then Derek turned around, in nothing but his boxer briefs, and Stiles looked him over appreciatively. "Damn."

"I think there's an imbalance of clothing here," Derek said, putting a firm grip on Stiles's hips.

"Why, Derek. I thought you were just going to get dressed again?" Stiles said in mock surprise.

"Don't make me change my mind," Derek threatened, leaning in to nip and Stiles's neck.

Stiles hummed in pleasure at the sensation. "You could try asking me nicely. I'm not your servant you know. I'm with you voluntarily."

Derek nuzzled into Stiles's shoulder. "I thought I was, what did you call me yesterday, a spoiled brat who never learned how to say please?" Derek tugged down swiftly on Stiles's shorts and Stiles thanked everything these were old and we wasn't wearing belt. Then Derek spun him around with a forceful press of shoulders and dropped to his knees. Stiles yelped when Derek put his hot hand against the crescent mark against his hip and bit into the soft bits of Stiles's lower back.

"You're an animal. A brute. Downright beastly," Stiles huffed, holding back a moan as Derek pulled down his boxer and began kissing down the crack in his backside.

"Whatever you say, Blanche," Derek said, seemingly unamused and distracted, even though Stiles could feel the smirk of Derek's lips as gave a sloppily wet kiss to the back of his balls.

"Hey, I'm comparing you to Brando. You should be flattered." Stiles bit his lip when Derek licked right over his hole, then going back at the rim with more vigor. "As nice as this is," Stiles whimpered as Derek teased a finger with his tongue. "I really want to get my hand on your dick at some point."

Derek kissed his way up Stiles's spine, toying with his hole with just the tip of his finger. "What do you want?" Derek whispered into the shell of his ear.

Stiles turned around, sad for losing Derek's touch on his ass. He scrambled to pull down Derek's underwear, who then kicked it away as Stiles rutted up against Derek. His dick slid against Derek's mark and they both shuddered, like tiny fireworks going off inside their bodies.

"I want you," Stiles said. "Maybe for always."

"Just maybe?" Derek laughed.

"I mean, we lasted a year without wanting to tear each other's throats out," Stiles said, playfully putting his teeth against Derek's neck. He couldn't bite like he wanted to. Danielle in makeup would kill him if he gave Derek a hickey. "Come on, bed, bed, bed, bed."

Stiles began walking backwards to the little cot near the back of the trailer. It was barely big enough for both of them, which kind of make Stiles feel like an unruly teenager.

An hour and a half later Scott came pounding on the door, the only showrunner perfectly willing to "accidentally" barge in on them if Derek's not out in a timely manner. Greenburg refuses to do the job after the time with the wax. To be fair, that was their off day.

Inside the trailer, Stiles was tying Derek's shoes as he buttoned up his shirt. "We got it, Scotty. Be out in a second."

"I will send Erica over here!" Scott yelled. "I'm calling her in five, four, three two-"

Stiles opened the door and grinned, wearing nothing but his boxers and a new set of hickeys bitten into his chest. "Here, take him." Stiles stepped back and pushed a fully clothed Derek forward. His hair was a mess but he was going into makeup. They would fix it. Derek turned back and gave him one last kiss on the lips before Scott dragged him off, leaving Stiles to get dressed again.

As Derek and Scott walked away, Scott ranted about the two of them learning some professionalism on set. "Erica and Boyd knew what they were getting into when they scheduled filming today," Derek said coolly.

"Oh, please. Like this is the first time this has happened," Scott grumbled.

"I think I'm going to propose tonight," Derek said before turning into the makeup trailer.

Scott tripped over himself and fell down. "YOU CANNOT TELL ME THESE THINGS!" Derek smirked at Danielle as he sat down.

"You really going to propose?" she asked, tucking paper towels into his collar.

"We've been engaged for a week. We've both been teasing Scott as to when it might happen. He hates having to keep secrets."

She laughed. "Well that explains all the recent sneak-aways you've been doing. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

Back in the trailer, Stiles got dressed, looking at the gold bands with the four sectioned crescent moon Stiles and Derek kept on necklaces just waiting to be worn.

Afterword

End Notes

Someone asked for a picture of the mate mark and it's been a while since I wrote this so even I'm not 100% positive what I was picturing but...
[so i used to have a photo here but the link is broken. i'll repost it sometime]

Thanks for reading.

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