Honestly, Stiles was surprised they hadn't been caught. Any number of servants must have seen them walk inside together, go up the stairs like too excited teenagers, heard the bedroom door shut. Any number of people should have known… and yet no one made any comment or looked at them too long. Stiles heard no whisper in the halls. It was kind of… liberating.
They entered the dining room for lunch right on schedule, both perfectly presentable, and were having a quiet conversation at the table for several minutes before they were joined by the McCalls and Liam. They'd been discussing Stiles' recovery and everything Stiles knew about his transition to running Goodwater instead of the lawyers. He'd wanted Derek's opinion, after all. He had said so in his letter.
"Thank you for volunteering for us, Lord Hale," Lady McCall said as she took her seat. "I'm sure the rabbits will be far more comfortable now."
She made such a point of smiling at the table instead of at them that Stiles knew she'd been in on the plot to get Stiles outside and talking to Derek. Well he really hoped she hadn't heard them in the bedroom, because that would be mortifying.
"Of course, Lady McCall. Your son's rescue menagerie is well thought of in Beacon." Derek nodded to Scott as the Baron sat down across from him. He shifted to sit straighter and somehow bumped Stiles' foot, and that should not make Stiles happy, but it did.
Scott gave him an odd, confused sort of look, like he thought Stiles might be ill somehow. But then both his eyebrows rose and he smiled. "Ah!" he said, facing Derek with his grin. "Yes. The rabbits are more comfortable now."
"I just said that, dear," Lady McCall pointed out softly. Servants, recognizing everyone was present, began to bring in the food.
Scott cleared his throat, face flushing slightly. "Right. I mean, my mother and I had an idea. You have the final say on it, Stiles, of course, but we were wondering if we could host a party in your honor."
"My-? A party? Like a ball?" Stiles forced the smile from his face. He'd been mostly joking when he'd suggested Scott had holed himself up in the study to plan a surprise party. "You think it's appropriate? You think people will show up?"
"I mean… yes." Scott nodded. "It's all over the country by now – Baron Goodwater has come home. Obviously no one knows the true story of what happened to you, but there are rumors. One rumor is that you were disfigured by the fire, so the party will get rid of that one. Obviously lots of rumors involve the Argents, but you can decide what you want everyone to know and we'll all stick to it if anyone asks. But a party is the fastest way to both start and stop rumors. Plus we can officially introduce you to the nobility that come."
Stiles was a bit queasy at the thought, but Derek pressed their knees together in a sign of support, and Stiles knew that at least he'd have a few allies in the mob that was bound to circle him at this party. Scott was right though. Stiles remembered the benefit of balls, and not just because they were generally flashy and fun. They were social gatherings and information hubs.
"Okay." He'd have to do it at some point. Might as well do it now.
The invitations were mailed out. Liam had a sore wrist. And preparations began. The kitchen needed extra food that day, decorations would need to be put up, and fire pits were constructed across the front lawn to fight off the evening chill that would accompany the doors being opened for all the guests. Seating arrangements for the feast were drawn up. Extra servants were hired to handle the expected load – and most were friends or family of the servants already employed.
Stiles had agreed to the ball, but he'd had one stipulation. Masks. He was already expecting to be swarmed, but if people had to hesitate, had to figure out if the mask was right, then it might slow down the torrent of well-wishers and gossips. Maybe it wouldn't work, but it was the last line of defense Stiles could think of.
They all needed new outfits for the event and masks to match. The day the invites went out, they went as a group to be fitted for their ensembles. When the carriage pulled up, Stiles was momentarily confused. The shop looked familiar somehow, though he'd never been to this area of Greenburg before. He pretended not to be curious about the familiarity for the sake of the others. This was no time to lose his mind.
But when they walked inside, Stiles knew instantly that he was sane.
"Welcome in, my Lords, my Lady." The shopkeeper bowed to them each and smiled extra at Lady McCall.
"Mason?" Stiles couldn't help blurting out. All eyes focused on him and he leaned away on reflex.
The dark shopkeeper focused on him too, and recognition blazed in his eyes. "Stiles? Oh my god. Sorry! I didn't recognize you at first. You look different. You look—," he paused to let out an impressed sounding breath. "You look good."
Lady McCall cleared her throat. "My apologies. Are you and Baron Goodwater acquainted?"
Mason's eyes went wide. "B-Baron Goo-?" He looked back at Stiles. "You're Baron Goodwater?" He put his hands on his head as he tried to take this in. Stiles winced. He didn't realize it would be such a shock. Had he really been so un-noble before? "Sorry! Sorry. It's just- Back at the old shop, you were- Sorry. I wanted to- Never mind." He looked Stiles over from head to toe. "Wow."
Stiles gave him half a moment longer to find actual words before he gave up on Mason being coherent and stepped in to explain. "His family's shop used to be in the capital of Gévaudan. He moved here…hmm… two weeks before you came to visit." He bumped Derek on the chest with his fist. Derek looked conflicted, like maybe he was jealous but maybe he just didn't like the lighting. It was hard to tell. "We only met the once."
"Memorable meeting," Scott noted and then Stiles was smacking him in the chest instead.
"How have you been, Mr. Hewitt?" Stiles asked, trying to move on.
"Me? Oh. Good. Great, actually." He beamed and motioned to the shop. "This shop is bigger than our old one. And, uh," he blushed but did not stop smiling, "it has a nice perk. See, across the street is a bakery."
"Do they give you a discount on the bread?" Scott asked, excitement in his voice at the prospect.
"Uh. Sometimes. But I meant there's a baker there- Sorry. You don't need to hear this. You came in for a measurement, right? Let's get to business. Yeah." He shook his head to clear his silly conversation away and then motioned for them to come toward the back of the shop.
A woman, probably Mason's mother, greeted them back there and they began to be fitted. Scott went first, as being the local Baron had to have some perks. While he was fussed over, Stiles turned to Mason once more.
"Does the baker know you like him?" he asked softly, so as not to disturb the fitting.
Mason flushed with embarrassment, ducking his head slightly. "Um. Yes. Yeah, we've been seeing each other for about a month." He let his eyes wander over Stiles again, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You, uh. You really do look good, Stiles- I mean Baron Goodwater."
"Stiles is fine." He waved off the idea of his title like an annoying fly.
Mason smiled slightly. "Okay. Well you do, Stiles. I don't think it's just the haircut or the suit either. You look… healthier somehow. And happier."
Now it was Stiles' turn to be a bit embarrassed. He shrugged to throw off suspicion. "Thanks. I'm in a better place now, and not just because I have a title. Your landlord really is a great guy. Plus, Lord Hale came to visit me. So, yeah. I'm pretty happy these days."
Mason glanced over Stiles shoulder, took in the group, and then looked back at Stiles. His grin turned mischievous. "Lord Hale, huh? I see. I see. Well maybe you should go back over to him before he rips my eyes out from across the room."
"You should probably sound more terrified when you say something like that," Stiles remarked, but the grin was infecting his face. Did Derek really look that jealous? He turned to look and just caught Derek looking away. Darn. Oh well.
Stiles waved slightly to Mason and joined the group. It didn't matter soon, though, because he joined his mother in taking measurements too. Stiles could be imagining it, but he was pretty certain that Mason avoided taking his measurements and left it for his mother.
After measurements, they discussed colors and styles. Scott wanted something red, while Derek requested blue. Stiles, too, asked for blue – not at all because he wanted to match Derek. Obviously not that. Lady McCall requested something simple, something maroon. She wasn't trying to attract attention at her age. Plus she didn't want to "outshine these nice young men." That drew a laugh from them all.
When all the details had been finalized, they headed home to the McCall Manor. Scott had some Baron business to take care of. Stiles too, no doubt, but he ignored any stack of mail for him in exchange for sitting on the couch with Derek in the McCall sitting room. There was a fire going in the hearth, and they watched it blaze for several minutes, their shoulders barely touching, their hands clasped between them. It was downright domestic.
"I've been thinking about the letters," Stiles said, staring at the logs. "I sent you eight unanswered letters."
"I didn't receive—"
"I know," Stiles interrupted. "But see, that's the odd thing. One letter, I could see that getting lost in transit. Maybe two. But I posted eight. Eight letters, and not one of them made it into your hands. Is it possible someone in your household was snatching them up? None of them should know me, but maybe someone doesn't like me?"
Derek shook his head and Stiles felt it all down his left side. "Only the head butler accepts the mail, or his second when he has the day off. They've both been with our family for years. They wouldn't steal the mail."
Humming Stiles decided to test boundaries and leaned his head over on Derek's shoulder. The other didn't stop him, so he stayed there. "I don't know then. Maybe someone at the post office?"
Derek almost shrugged, but he aborted early when it jostled Stiles. "Maybe. But why would someone at the post office be intercepting my mail?"
Stiles shrugged without issue. "I don't know, but it's been on my mind. Something happened to those letters, and espionage sounds like the coolest excuse."
Derek grunted in response. The fire crackled. Normally Stiles liked to move around, but he realized he could stay on this couch with Derek for a long time with no problem. His nervous energy that regularly had him tapping fingers or bouncing his legs was unaccounted for. He liked it.
"Stiles, how long have we known each other?" Derek asked.
"Um… Half a year? A bit more?" Stiles answered, trying to do the math in his head. He might be off, but it was close, right?
Derek hummed in agreement. "I would be remiss to call that a long time, I think."
Stiles snorted. "Speak for yourself. You're possibly the longest relationship I have ever had. Except for Allison, but you're clearly a different type of relationship. Allison has never seen me naked. Oh. Okay, maybe she has, but it wasn't for sexy times. It was for medical purposes. Don't ask me to explain."
Well that was embarrassing. Stiles groaned and pressed a hand to his face, and Derek laughed softly at him. At least someone found him funny.
After a moment, Derek hummed again. "I wrote you letters as well, you know. I never tried to send mine, of course. You can't send letters to heaven. I only wrote three, I believe. I wasn't thinking very clearly in those days, so I may be wrong."
"Well, I suppose that's only fair. I couldn't even maintain steady consciousness for a week after it happened." He felt Derek's entire body tense up and he winced. "Sorry. I just mean that, well, we'll have a lot to talk about. We both have missing messages."
"You wouldn't want my letters," Derek said with a grunt. He removed his hand from Stiles' and wrapped his arm around him instead. "They were badly written pieces. I was not eloquent."
"I'm sure you were fine."
"I'm sure it was gibberish. But I know I kept repeating the same ideas in each one." He dragged his fingers down Stiles' arm, sending a tingle through him. "I'm sorry." He dragged his fingers back up and Stiles shivered. "I miss you." He leaned his forehead on Stiles', and Stiles was sure his chest was about to burst with a new, intense desire. "I'll make sure Earl Gévaudan sees justice for what he's done to you." He squeezed Stiles in a brief hug and then relaxed almost to the point of letting Stiles go. But Stiles didn't want to be let go. He wanted to be with Derek… forever. "I love you."
Stiles slid his hands under his thighs to hide how he had begun to shake, his nervous energy returning with vengeance.
"Well. I mean. I'm glad you were able to move on," he murmured.
Derek's voice was confused and tight. "Move on?"
Nodding, Stiles pulled his hands free and instead squished them between his thighs. "I saw it in the news – or heard it, rather. Lord Derek Hale is interested in marriage. You don't let a reporter post that in the paper unless you've already got someone or you're trying to attract possible suitors."
He'd been waiting for this conversation ever since Derek showed up. He wanted Derek forever, and he knew Derek had feelings for him, but the paper had been clear. Derek had his mind on someone for marriage, and the post was written at a time when Derek still thought of Stiles as deceased. He'd gotten Derek back, but it was a temporary thing. Now he had to face that.
"The reporter came by at an interesting moment," Derek admitted. "I had just found out via my sister's letter than you were alive."
"Okay?" Stiles wanted to berate the sliver of hope that cropped up in his heart. How dare it show it's back-stabbing self in this moment!
"Stiles…" Derek shifted away from him so he could look at Stiles, but then he couldn't hold the stare and instead looked at their hands, now re-clasped between them. "I know you've got a lot on your plate these days. I know we're different people, with ties to very different places. I… I know that it would be a lot of work. But I'm willing to help you through your struggles, if you're willing to help me through mine. I'm willing to put in the miles and the effort, if you are." He squeezed Stiles hands.
His eyebrows pulled low together and something very near a glare rested over his face as he stared at his hands. Stiles couldn't believe what he was hearing. This, even more than their meeting by the chicken hutch, sounded like a proposal. It sounded like marriage, and Stiles couldn't breathe. Was Derek actually proposing to him?! Of all people?!
Sure, he was a Baron now, but he had issues! Mental issues! And he wasn't very good at his job yet either. And he had no real connections anymore. This was a terrible plan on Derek's part.
But Stiles wanted it. He wanted to hear Derek actually say the words, because he wanted to accept them. He didn't want to have to guess or assume and make a fool of himself. He wanted a clear-cut question, a definition to what they were. Kissing and sex were all well and good, but Stiles wanted a label for it all. He wanted more.
"If I- Would you be opposed to me asking..." Derek cleared his throat, angry with himself, and then forcibly looked up into Stiles' eyes. "Would you marry me?"
Stiles was a little breathless. There it was!
"No," he murmured, his hands shaking even as they were held by Derek's. Derek's whole face seemed to close off, and at first Stiles didn't understand why. Then he went over the last few lines of conversation and gasped. "No! No, you're misunderstanding!"
"How so?" Derek asked, looking off toward the fire with a pout and pulling his hands away.
Stiles grabbed them back. "You said 'would I be opposed'. I said no."
He waited for the words to register, for Derek to think over the conversation as well. He waited just long enough to see the recognition and the realization spreading across his face. Derek jerked his head back to look at Stiles, and the younger man grinned.
"I would love to marry you," Stiles said slowly, making sure every word hit.
Hesitantly, as though he didn't believe his ears, Derek leaned forward toward Stiles. Stiles went easy on him and met him part way to initiate the kiss. Kisses. The kissing. God he loved kissing Derek. And if he believed his own ears, he was going to have the opportunity to keep kissing Derek for many, many, many years to come.
"So," Stiles panted when they paused. "Does your family know? You're a, you know, a future Earl. Doesn't this throw a wrench into, like, succession or something?"
Derek smiled and buried his face in Stiles' neck. "My family already knew about my affections for you. I spoke to my parents about you when I returned home, just before we got news of your death. Succession will not be an issue. My eldest sister has a child that can accept the title when I die. But that won't be for a long time yet."
"And- And what about my title?" Stiles asked, remembering the fears of his nightmares.
"Well you'll still be Baron Goodwater until you die for real," Derek said, not removing himself from Stiles' neck. "After that, I'm sure I'll have another niece or nephew, or you'll have someone in mind. For now though, your titles will have to expand. How does Lord Stilinski, Count Beacon sound?"
It sounded like an aphrodisiac. Stiles quelled his thoughts. "N-Nice," he said and swallowed hard. Derek's smirk was obvious even without seeing his face. Stiles could feel it on his skin. "Maybe we should tell Lady McCall and Baron Posey." Anything to get out of this situation, because it was definitely not appropriate to start making out with your fiancé on someone else's couch.
Never losing his smirk, Derek nodded. They had to tell everyone eventually, but they could start with Stiles' new family. God, this was the best day of Stiles' life.