It was too dark for Stiles to be wandering around the woods, and his clothes were soaked - had been pretty much since he had stormed out of Scott's apartment, which he had regretted doing the second he had done it. He couldn't for the love of it understand why he had left like that. He knew Scott hadn't meant he should just run into the night, he knew Scott didn't hate him. Even if the part of him that knew it was buried somewhere deep under the Scott hates me more than anything -thoughts, he knew it.

All of a sudden Stiles realized he was standing in a very familiar spot, in a place he hadn't visited in years. The Hale house had apparently been renovated at some point; something Stiles had no idea of until now. He didn't know if it was because of how cold he was because of the rain, or because of all the memories, but his whole body shuddered with chills.

He wasn't really sure why he was there. He sure as hell hadn't walked there on purpose, no, it was one of the last places he'd go in a situation like this. Hewas the last person on earth Stiles would go to when he needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to tell him everything was going to get better. No, he'd go to literally anyone before going to him. Hell, he'd even go and ask help from Lydia before him.

And still, no matter how badly the hatred towards him filled Stiles' heart, he couldn't deny the spark of… yearning underneath it all. He didn't want to feel it, but he did. He didn't want to miss him, but he did.

He missed Derek.

Suddenly he realized he was standing on the porch, his hand raised and ready to knock. He really didn't know why, but for some probably extremely stupid reason, he felt like he should do it. It didn't make sense. He didn't even know if it was actually Derek who lived there; all he knew it could've been Peter's home now. Or Cora could live there. Back when Stiles had been with Derek, Derek had still lived in the loft, and the Hale house had been nothing more than ruins of a burned down house.

Stiles took a deep breath and knocked. Did he really want to do it? Probably not. Was he ready to face Derek after all these years if Derek actually happened to live there? Definitely not.

But the door opened, and it was too late to back out anymore because there he was, standing in front of Stiles, alive and in flesh: Derek Hale. And Stiles wanted to run. He wanted to run as fast as he could, and never come back. But as Derek's green eyes studied him, he found himself unable to move. He wasn't sure if it was because he was scared that history would repeat itself, or because in reality, he didn't want to leave.

"Hi," Stiles eventually forced himself to say, his voice weak and a bit hoarse from all the walking in the cold rain. He was slowly starting to think it had actually been a horrible idea to knock on the door, just like he had originally thought. "I, uh… I should go," he mumbled and awkwardly rubbed his neck as he spoke, lowering his gaze to his feet when Derek's stare started to get unbearable.

Just when Stiles was turning on his heels to leave, Derek grabbed him by the upper arm to stop him. Stiles let out a quiet whimper as the tight grip startled him, but Derek was quick to let go as soon as Stiles turned back to face him.

"Don't go," Derek quietly asked, his eyes so full of sadness and pain it made Stiles' heart clench.

Stiles didn't know what to do. He was sure staying and going inside with Derek would be the stupidest thing he's done in years, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave either. Judging by the look on Derek's face, Stiles wasn't the only one going through an internal battle with himself.

"Do you wanna… come in?" Derek slowly asked after they had stared at each other in silence for the longest moment.

Did he want to? Stiles didn't really know, but he nodded anyway, and when Derek stepped aside from the doorway he walked into the renovated house. Quietly Stiles followed Derek into a living room, sat down on a heavenly soft couch and watched as Derek uncomfortably paced from place to place.

"I was making myself tea," Derek eventually said and stopped in his tracks to lock his eyes with Stiles', "do you want a cup as well?"

Stiles' lips curved into a faint smile before he gave Derek a nod as an answer. When Derek left the room, to probably fetch them the cups, Stiles let out a sigh. He was more than glad to be left alone for a moment, no matter how short it was going to be, because he really needed any time he possibly could to sort his thoughts. Because this was really happening, he was actually in Derek's house, with Derek. His heart kept pounding in a pace so fast it made breathing a bit hard, but he wasn't at all sure what caused it. Well, of course, Derek caused it, but was it because Stiles was scared or because he was… well, maybe even happy to be there?

"Here you go," Derek said with a tone a bit more cheerful than earlier as he offered Stiles the other cup. "It was pretty hot so I added a little bit colder water in it, so you won't burn your tongue," Derek spoke in a rapid pace, clearly nervous about the situation, and Stiles had to fight back a laugh.

"I think I can manage a cup of hot tea," Stiles quietly said, the smile on his lips a bit wider now. He took a sip of the steaming drink in his hands, embracing the warm, calming feeling flowing through his body. "But thanks anyway."

Derek's lips curved into a warm smile as he sat down on one of the two armchairs in the room, and took a sip of his drink, too. They sat in silence, both of them slowly sipping their drinks and staring out of the huge window behind the TV. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though. If Stiles hadn't known better, he wouldn't have guessed that the two people in the room had at some point dated each other and broke up with a huge fight. No, it was a nice silence, the kind where one could easily rest their eyes for a bit and accidentally fall asleep for hours, or just stare out the window for god knows how long like they did now.

Derek had stared out of the window for a good while before he had the guts to even glance at Stiles, but when he did, his heart melted right away. The younger man had fallen asleep on the couch, his head hanging in a position that looked extremely uncomfortable, and the teacup still in his hand. Derek couldn't but stare at the adorable, and a little sad, sight and wonder how Stiles had managed to keep the tea from spilling even though he had dozed off, because Derek knew he wouldn't have succeeded in that.

Carefully, with slow and quiet movements Derek walked to Stiles and took the cup from his hand, taking it back to the kitchen where he had to sit down and think about what was happening. Stiles had suddenly appeared in his porch, came inside, and was now peacefully sleeping on Derek's couch. It was unbelievable, bizarre even. It wasn't something Derek had ever even dreamed to actually happen.

After fetching a felt from the bedroom, Derek returned to the living room and crouched next to Stiles. Stiles' other arm had fallen off the couch and was now hanging outside of it, so Derek gently lifted back to where it had been on Stiles' lap. After that, he carefully placed the felt on Stiles.

He stayed there for a while, crouched next to the sleeping man he had missed for so many years, studying his worn out face with sad eyes. It was simply horrible to see what all those years after Stiles' dad's death had done to Stiles. Even though Stiles was sleeping peacefully, Derek could see that the happiness and joy had been sucked right out of him, and the last time Stiles had looked this bad had been right after the whole incident with the nogitsune.

Suddenly Stiles inhaled sharply, his expression changed from peaceful to miserable, and he started mumbling some nonsense in his sleep. He was obviously having a nightmare, and it kind of scared Derek because he had no idea what to do about it. He didn't know how to help a sleeping person. He just knew he had to do something because Stiles stank like fear and anxiety so badly Derek was sure the stink wasn't going to leave the couch for at least a week.

After a short mental battle against himself, Derek slowly raised his fingers to gently caress Stiles' cold cheek. It seemed to soothe Stiles a bit because his face relaxed as soon as Derek's warm skin even slightly brushed against Stiles'. Encouraged by that, Derek placed his palm against Stiles' cheek and started to gently caress it with his thumb, just like he had done many years ago every time Stiles had been even a little bit sad.

Stiles' breathing calmed down, and against his will Derek retrieved his hand from Stiles' cheek. But before Derek managed to get up from the floor, a cold hand reached for his arm, grabbing it loosely. Derek raised his eyes to Stiles' brown ones.

"Stay."

Stiles' voice was barely even a whisper, but it was enough for Derek. It was enough for him to take his hand back to Stiles' cheek and continue the gentle caressing while they silently stared into each other's eyes. And before Derek even realized what he was doing, he slowly leaned closer to Stiles, gently placing a kiss on Stiles' dry lips. It wasn't really even anything one could call a kiss. It was just their lips barely brushing against each other before Derek came to his senses and pulled away from Stiles.

"I'm so sorry," Derek hurried to say, afraid that he had already fucked everything up. But the corners of Stiles' mouth curved into the smallest of smiles, hiding the almost disappointed look on his face.

"It's okay," Stiles whispered, his eyes locked on Derek's.

Derek nodded. He knew Stiles was capable of saying it out loud if he was uncomfortable with what was happening; at least back in the day he hadn't had any problems doing so.
Maybe it was a bit reckless, and maybe Derek was pushing his luck, but he soon leaned back closer to Stiles. Only this time Derek kissed him properly. This times he pressed their lips together in a way that woke up all of his senses and turned the world upside down. Stiles' other hand found its way to Derek's cheek, and from there to behind Derek's neck, pressing him just a little bit closer.

It was amazing, better than anything either of them had ever imagined. Derek hadn't even dared to dream about kissing Stiles like this again in this life, and Stiles had buried his dreams of love and intimacy long ago.

Before long, their kiss deepened, Stiles' fingers dived in Derek's hair and Derek pressed himself closer to Stiles. But it wasn't enough, it wasn't close enough. Derek put away the felt he had brought to Stiles earlier, and got up on the couch with Stiles, gently placing himself astride on top of the younger man.

Stiles let his hands wander from Derek's hair to the man's chest, clinging to his shirt like his life depended on it. He didn't have to say anything; the familiar gesture made Derek sit up straight for a short while, so he could take his shirt off before bending over to press his lips back to Stiles'.

Derek let his tongue sweep over Stiles' lower lip, and with a low moan Stiles opened up for him, letting their breaths mix with each other. A groan escaped Derek's throat as his hands grabbed Stiles' hips, his fingers digging into Stiles' skin as he pushed Stiles harder against the couch.

And oh, how Stiles had missed it. He had missed the way Derek kissed him, and the way Derek touched him.

Derek lowered his lips to Stiles' neck, kissing and nibbling every inch of it while his hands lowered Stiles' pants. After getting Stiles out of his jeans and boxers, Derek also removed Stiles' shirt so eagerly that Stiles' was sure he heard a seam rip.

Suddenly Derek was tracing a line of wet kisses down to Stiles' chest, to his stomach and all the way to his hips, making him shiver as quiet giggles and gasps of pleasure escaped his parted lips. God, how he had missed the feeling of Derek's hot breath against his sensitive skin. How he had missed Derek's hot, wet tongue working its magic, making Stiles let out loud, luscious moans as he slowly came undone.

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and lifted the younger man to his lap, pressing Stiles' back against the couch's backrest, hardly giving Stiles any time to catch his breath before crashing their lips against each other again. The kiss was hungrier than before, and Stiles could taste himself from Derek's lips.

The living room was soon filled with moans of both pleasure and pain as they did what two passionate, turned on men did the best. And it was better than ever. Stiles kept clinging to Derek, his arms tightly wrapped around him like Stiles was afraid he was going to disappear. He placed quick pecks and nibbles around Derek's neck between his moans, leaving quite a few love bites here and there. Derek's hands were grasping Stiles' hips tightly as he kept thrusting faster and harder by the second, eventually leaving them both sticky, sweaty and out of breath on the couch.

Derek answered his phone before it managed to even ring properly: "Yeah?"

"We need your help, Derek," Scott's voice was desperate. "We can't find him. We can't find Stiles. He's been missing the whole night and- "

Derek cut him off with a short, quiet laugh. "He's here, Scott," he said calmly.

"What?" Either Scott didn't try at all, or he was just terrible at hiding how shocked he was by the news. But Derek didn't blame him; he still couldn't really believe it himself.

"Yeah, he came here last night," Derek told his friend, slowly pacing around the bedroom. "He'll probably stay with me, at least for a while. And he'll call you when he's ready."

After Derek hung up, he turned to look at the brown-haired, naked man who was still sleeping in his bed, and smiled to himself. Maybe everything was finally going to get better for both of them, because they damn well deserved it.