A/N: I mentioned it was going to get worse before it gets better, right?

It took almost two weeks, but there finally came a point where they were almost-sort of-back to normal. Those were two very awkward and painful weeks, but Derek was, ultimately, grateful that Stiles had insisted they "get right back on the horse". He'd declared that if they avoided each other so that it wasn't awkward, they'd keep on avoiding each other and eventually it would be normal for them not to be in each others' lives anymore, and he refused to let that happen. So even though it hurt, and neither of them really knew what to say to each other, he still continued to show up with food, to do homework, to watch cheesy movies, until they settled back into their old routine.

Then Stiles had to go and fuck it all up again.

"Sooooo…." He looked at Derek out of the corner of his eye and Derek sighed. He already knew this wasn't going to be good. "So, we, um, we haven't talked about…" Derek shot him a plaintive stare, clearly telling him to hurry the fuck up, and Stiles swallowed. "Dating."

The thought rattled him. He hadn't consciously thought about it, but unconsciously he'd recognized there was no real reason for him to consider dating. He knew who he wanted. He couldn't have him. The end. "Dating?" he repeated cautiously.

Stiles shrugged, his shoulder jerking as he looked away, unable or unwilling to look Derek in the eye. "It's going to happen eventually. Have to get back into the swing of things, right?" His voice trembled, anxiety shining in his eyes when they swung back to Derek.

"When is 'eventually'?" Derek asked carefully.

His eyes darted around, landing over Derek's head and beyond his shoulder and flickering away altogether before coming back, and Derek's stomach felt sour. "I, um, have a date. Tomorrow."

Derek blinked at him, acid swirling through his stomach and rising into his throat. He could taste it on the back of his tongue and wondered idly if he was going to actually throw up. "Who?"

Stiles shifted uncomfortably, mumbling, "This guy in my Policing and Society class."

"Oh."

They stared at each other, Derek blank-faced and Stiles so agitated he almost looked like he was going to burst out of his skin. "Is that all you have to say?"

"What else am I supposed to say?" No, you can't. You're mine. Why the fuck are you dating someone else when you know it should be us? "We're not soulmates. I can't hold you back from trying to find yours." Please don't. Forget about the fucking soul mark and soulmates and all that bullshit. You're mine and I'm yours and that should be it. Why isn't that good enough?

Stiles exhaled, his breathing hitching. "Well, good. That's good. This is healthy." He paused again and the tension spiked. "So, are you going to date, too?"

"Of course," Derek found his mouth saying, without his permission.

"Ah. Really?" Stiles' eyebrows were arched, shocked.

"Why shouldn't I?" he challenged, knowing he was only being difficult; he didn't want to date, so why should he care if Stiles expected he'd be sitting at home alone?

Stiles sagged back into the couch. "No reason," he replied weakly, running his hand over his hair, ruffling up the long-ish dark brown strands. "You should tell me your soul mark initials," he suggested hesitantly. "So that if I run into someone with them, I could-."

"No." The sharp, immediate response brooked no argument. "I'm not putting that on you. I don't want you to feel like you have to introduce me to anyone you meet with the right initials. If one of them were to be my soulmate, you'd always remember you were the one who introduced us. I don't want you to have that burden."

"That's… thoughtful," Stiles admitted. "But I don't mind. I want you to be happy."

Then stop worrying about the goddamn soul mark and whether we are or aren't each other's soulmates, and choose to be happy with me. "Are we going to watch the movie or not?" Derek asked instead, voice rough and raspy, and Stiles swallowed again, and dirty thoughts raced through his head before he could stop them. He almost begged Stiles to stop swallowing-to stop doing anything with his mouth, to be honest.

"Yeah, fire it up," he muttered, the almost-lighthearted mood from earlier completely shattered.

The atmosphere was tense and heavy through the whole movie; Derek and Stiles sat next to each other, but both were stiff, facing forward and not looking at the other, and very careful to stay far enough apart that there was no risk of accidental touching. When it was over, Stiles yawned in an overexaggerated way and stretched his arms over his head. His shirt rode up, exposing a slight glimpse of a dark line of hair dipping into the waistband of his jeans, and Derek had to avert his eyes.

"I'm exhausted, and I have to be up early for my Restorative Justice class," he mumbled, stooping to snag the strap of his backpack. They'd planned on studying after the movie, but Stiles clearly wanted to cut the evening short. Derek was in full agreement with that course of action. "I'll see you later?" Not "tomorrow", or even "this weekend". Open-ended. Derek was helpless to stop the widening gulf between them.

"Sure," he replied, nodding casually, or at least attempting it. He could feel his head jerking and imagined he actually looked like a wooden puppet. "You mind if I email you my econ essay tomorrow for review? I have to turn it in Friday."

"Yeah, no problem." Derek remained on the couch, watching him unhappily as he headed for the door. When he got there, hand on the doorknob, Stiles cast Derek a determined look. "I know this sucks. Trust me, I know it. But we're never going to get over this if we don't make an effort to. I have to make the effort, Derek. My best chance at not getting my heart broken is not getting emotionally involved until I find my soulmate. I've had my heart broken and I don't want to go through that again. Maybe you're okay with a little bit of happiness followed by devastation, but I'm not."

Derek stared after him as the door shut slowly behind him, reached over and pulled out his laptop, and opened the Skype icon.

"Der-Bear!" Laura's smiling face beamed out at him, only to be replaced immediately by a look of concern. "What's wrong, baby brother?"

He couldn't speak for a minute; he opened his mouth, but the words didn't come out. "I hate this," he finally croaked out, and she sighed deeply.

"Hang on a minute." She got up, and Derek was treated to the sight of her ratty dark brown fur couch, a throwback to the eighties, while he heard sounds of her rattling around in the kitchen. When she came back, there was a pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food in her hand. Derek could see some black letters on the lid.

"What's that?" he asked, only half-curious, and she tilted the lid so he could read it better. "For Derek's Broken Heart. Thanks, Laur." He snorted out a half-laugh, half-choked breath. "How long have you been saving that one?"

"Since the night after the conversation in which you admitted you fell for your Economics tutor," she answered breezily, sinking back into the couch. "So spill. What happened that it's finally time to break out the ice cream? And where's yours, by the by?"

Derek got up, digging around in his freezer for his pint of Karamel Sutra and fishing a spoon out of the silverware drawer, before dropping back onto his own couch. "We're trying to be friends," he started.

She snorted. "Good luck with that."

"Yeah, it's not going so well," he agreed, scowling. "It was going okay, we were finally getting better. Then today he brought up dating other people, said we need to figure out how to move on."

"Aww, Derek. What a fucking idiot."

"He's right," Derek conceded, the words scraping his throat raw with the truth of them. "We're not soulmates. Stiles doesn't want to settle for someone who isn't his soulmate, no matter how he feels about them, because he believes it's just setting himself up for getting his heart broken. I can't tell him he's wrong. I have to accept this is what he wants and needs."

"What about what you want and need?" she challenged him, sticking a spoonful of chocolate ice cream, fudge fish, and caramel and marshmallow in her mouth. He could see her mouth working and then her throat as she chewed and swallowed. "You deserve to be happy. If this Stiles kid can make you happy, you should prove to him that he's wrong."

Derek stared at her in confusion. "Aren't you the one who told me not to mess with someone who isn't my soulmate?" he objected. "You said it would only end badly for me."

Laura shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe eventually getting hurt is worth being happy with him in the meantime. Who's to say? I'm certainly not an expert."

Derek slapped at his chest in feigned shock. "I think the world may be ending."

"Ha, ha." She shot him a withering glare. "I'm just saying. I don't want you spending your life not trying for the things you want because I think you'll get hurt. You have to do things for yourself and not for other people."

Derek shoved his own spoonful of pure caramel into his mouth and sucked on the spoon thoughtfully. "Maybe I should start dating," he said suddenly, and Laura cocked her head, her eyebrows drawing together as she watched him suspiciously.

"Not that I don't think that's a good idea, but what brought this on?"

He grinned. "Maybe Stiles will have a change of heart if he sees me living my life like I'm not waiting for him to decide to be a part of it."

She frowned in warning. "I don't think that's a good idea, Der-Bear," she chided gently. "You should date because you want to, not to make Stiles jealous." She considered the idea further. "Maybe you'll actually meet your soulmate in the process, though, and then it will all work out after all."

Derek shook his head adamantly. "I won't date anyone with my soul mark initials," he declared. "I don't want to find my soulmate. I don't want to find anyone else."

"Derek." She stared at him, the Older Sister Glare of Doom working its magic even through Skype. "I really think you should reconsider this before you dive headfirst into it."

He pretended to think about it. "I will," he promised, but it was an empty one and they both knew it, and Laura sighed.

"I love you, so you know I'll support whatever hare-brained scheme you come up with," she groused, her tone in direct contrast to her words. "Just don't make me end up with a freezer full of ice cream, okay? I'm a broke college student in New York City and this shit is like seven dollars a pint here."

"Ouch." Derek winced. "No more ice cream."

"I'll just keep one in reserve."

He grinned. "It'll be fine, Laur, I promise. I love you."

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too, baby brother."

She blew him a kiss and he signed off, picking up his phone and scrolling through the numbers before he found the one he wanted and hit the little message icon next to it.

Hey, it's Derek, from your Energy Systems and Control class. What are you doing Friday night?