a/n: not so much of an interlude as a chapter from derek's pov.
it didn't feel right to continue the story without giving you a glimpse as to how he dealt with everything, so i hope you like it.
if things are a little bit confusing or the narrative keeps going back and forth on the same subjects, it's because i tried my best to portray derek's thinking. there's a lot of misplaced guilt, shame, and self-loathing here, and his line of thought might be repetitive at times, but it's because this is a situation that is both old and new to him, and derek doesn't really know how to handle it.
because he's focusing so much on not fucking up, he ends up putting himself in situations where he does just that. it's a pattern he hasn't learned how to break, not yet, and i hope i'm successful in guiding derek through figuring out not everything is on him.
there's a lot of talk about that here, and even though things might seem like they're moving a little fast at times, i know people don't come to terms and learn to cope with years of trauma just by having a few conversations with someone. i promise i won't magically make derek feel like everything's alright and he's better, and i hope you don't hate me for it. :3
Derek doesn't remember the ride back to his loft.
He doesn't remember Cora opening the door and snaking an arm around his waist and helping him up and out of the car.
He doesn't remember her leading him to the elevator, the ride up, and Isaac waiting for them with the door opened, eyes shadowed and arms crossed over his chest.
He doesn't remember them getting him inside the loft, walking him to his bed and pushing him down so he's lying on top of the mattress, taking off his boots and pulling his legs up on the bed.
All he remembers are Stiles' words echoing through his head.
You never even told me her name.
He turns on his side and curls into himself, anger and shame and self-loathing burning deep in his gut as he presses his face against the pillow.
Because it's true.
Derek didn't.
He never, not once, told Stiles his ex-girlfriend's last name was Argent.
Kate Argent, to be exact.
Argent.
Just like Stiles' friend, Allison.
Dr. Argent.
Because if he had, if Derek had told Stiles who she was, if he had opened his mouth and said those two little words to him, it would have made a world of difference.
He wouldn't have been caught off guard, and he wouldn't have ran, and he wouldn't have reacted the way he did.
He wouldn't have made a scene, and he wouldn't have embarrassed Stiles in front of the people he loves.
What happened tonight?
It's on him.
Because Derek never told Stiles her name.
Just like Stiles said he didn't.
Because Derek was scared that once Stiles heard the whole story, he wouldn't want to be with him anymore.
He'd see just how messed up Derek is and decide he doesn't want anything to do with him anymore.
But in the end, Derek didn't even have to say anything.
He went right ahead and fucked everything up as soon as he found out Stiles was best friends with an Argent.
He went right ahead and fucking ran, without saying anything, and proceeded to have a fucking breakdown in the middle of the street and in front of Stiles.
He's angry at himself for reacting the way he did, and he's embarrassed for Stiles having to deal with it, and he's resigned because this is what he does.
Or better yet, what he doesn't do.
Because no matter how hard he tries, he never seems to do anything right.
And he can't believe he fooled himself into thinking things would be different with Stiles, can't believe he thought he could be good enough for once, could have this, could be worthy of the happiness he felt whenever they were together.
He should have known it would all come crashing down on him in the end, because he would do something to fuck it up.
He just never thought it would be this.
He always figured Stiles would have a problem with how Derek doesn't really say much, or how he'd stop finding Derek's awkwardness and the way he blushes cute and start thinking it's irritating, or how he'd grow tired of having to wait for Derek to have sex with him.
But no, what happened is that Derek freaked the fuck out and embarrassed Stiles in front of his closest friends and Derek's sisters.
He wonders what Stiles must be thinking of him right now, if he's as disgusted with Derek as Derek is with himself; if he finally realized Derek's too much handle, has too much baggage, can't never do anything right.
And to think that if he actually hadn't done anything to fuck it all up, it would only be a matter of time before things between them ended, anyway.
Because Stiles is best friends with an Argent, which means he probably has some form of contact with Kate.
And Derek can't risk being anywhere near her again.
He hears the door opening and sliding shut, low and rushed voices saying words he doesn't bother figuring out, too busy trying to meld his face with the mattress and make himself as small as possible so no one has to deal with him.
With how much of a fucking failure and disappointment and pathetic he is.
Derek doesn't realize the voices sound a lot closer until he feels the bed dip and someone rest a hand on his shoulder.
Which immediately makes him flinch back, because his sisters or Isaac shouldn't have to see him like this, shouldn't have to deal with him when he's this way.
His shame grows, thinking of how this is the second time he's put them through this.
First with Kate, and now with-
Now with Stiles.
Derek can only tell he's crying when someone starts wiping the tears on his cheeks with their thumbs, and he only recognizes the person as being Laura because of her soft whispers saying Derek and it's okay and everything will be alright.
Derek doesn't believe her.
Because he knows that as soon as thing start looking up again, he'll do something to screw them up.
Just like Kate always said he would.
Derek stays in bed for two days.
He doesn't speak.
Not really.
You know, with the exception of telling Laura to leave him the fuck alone the third time she tries to get him to tell her his side of the story.
Because telling her about it means telling her what a fucking disappointment he is, and he doesn't think he's ready for the way she'll look at him when she realizes this is all his fault.
Or the way she'll probably try to go after Stiles once she finds out he's friends with an Argent.
He doesn't want to create any problems for him, not more than he already has.
Laura snaps her mouth shut and glares at him, but Derek can see the underlying layer of worry in place of anger as she stares at him.
He doesn't like it, but it's better than having her look down on him for being a fuck up of a human being.
Cora is sitting on a chair directly in front of Derek's bed, and as she sees him snapping at their sister she just narrows her eyes at him and says, "Then we'll just have to ask Stiles."
Derek's entire face pales at that, because it's the exact opposite of what he wants.
He doesn't know he's shaking until Isaac grabs a hold of his wrists and tries to get him to stop, not that it helps much.
He only does stop after Laura and Cora stare at him with fear in their eyes and swear they won't say anything to Stiles, won't try to find him and confront him and ask him about what happened.
No one asks him anything more after that.
And Laura and Cora don't complain when Isaac asks them to leave the loft on the second day, to let them be alone for a little while.
Derek goes back to lying on his side on the bed, hands tucked under his pillow, as he tries to calm down and swallow back down the panic of having anyone he knows talking to Stiles, seeing him, knowing how embarrassed and angry he must be at Derek for doing what he did, finding out about his connection to Kate.
Isaac sits down beside him, back resting against the headboard, hands clasped together over his lap.
Derek finds himself relaxing a little bit, because he knows that if there's anyone who'll understand what he's going through, that someone is Isaac.
His dad liked packing punches, but running his mouth at Isaac was his favorite way to terrorize his kid.
Derek is glad he's dead.
They sit in silence for a while, Derek's breathing and heartbeat slowing down to normal, and it's not long before he's uncurling himself and turning belly up on the bed, limbs sprawled over the mattress, eyes trained to the ceiling.
"Was it something he did?"
Even though Isaac sounds quiet and calm, Derek knows he's bracing himself for the worst.
Bracing himself for hearing about how Stiles is exactly like Kate, how they met him and had dinner with him and let themselves like him only to get stabbed in the back when they least expected it.
And Derek doesn't want that.
He doesn't want his friends thinking Stiles did something wrong, doesn't want them to blame him for Derek's mistakes.
And he doesn't want them to assume that just because one of Stiles' best friends is related to her, they're all exactly the same kind of people.
So he shakes his head minutely and says, "No, it wasn't anything he did," voice coming out hoarse from disuse.
He can't see Isaac's nod, but he feels the tension slipping out of his friend's body at knowing he doesn't have to hunt anyone down and make good on his threat that if they ever hurt Derek, Isaac would hurt them.
Derek doesn't know whether he should appreciate having friends who care about him as much as Isaac does, or feel a little mad at having them treat Derek like he can't handle things himself.
Which he kind of can't, considering where he is now and how he made a mess out of everything.
But still.
He likes to think he's a capable human being most of the time, and having his friend coddle him doesn't help.
Isaac doesn't say anything more, and Derek finds himself grateful for the silence, for having someone by his side that gets what is like, what he's feeling.
It kind of helps him push down the guilt, the embarrassment, the disgust at himself for failing once again, for not being good enough.
It helps him open his mouth and say, "One of Stiles' best friend is called Allison Argent."
Whatever resemblance of calm Isaac got from Derek saying Stiles didn't do anything vanishes, and Derek has to close his eyes to keep himself from seeing the anger on Isaac's face when he feels him sliding down on the bed and lying next to him.
"But he knew about-"
Derek shakes his head again, letting out a shaky breath when he whispers, "I never told him her name."
He knows he doesn't need to look at Isaac for his friend to know how fucking guilty he's feeling.
It shows in his voice.
It's Isaac's turn to sigh, and Derek can imagine by the sound of fabric shuffling that Isaac is scrubbing a hand over his face.
"You think this is your fault," Isaac says with an edge to his voice that gets Derek throwing an arm over his face.
See?
Isaac knows.
He swallowing hard and finally admits it out loud, "I know it's my fault. If I had told him about her, none of this would have happened."
"What do you think happened?" Isaac asks him, and Derek clenches his hands into fists as he shakes his head and presses his lips together.
And refuses to tell him what he did.
Or to acknowledge that Stiles probably knows Kate and could even be her friend, could even like her, could have decided she is a good person because he's known her longer than he's known Derek, trusts her word more than his.
In the end, he doesn't actually need to open his mouth and tell Isaac about it, because if there's one person in the world who can tell exactly what Derek is thinking, that person is him.
He doesn't know whether to feel comforted by that, or really fucking sad they have this in common.
Isaac proves him right when he opens his mouth and says, voice low and calm and firm, like Derek is going to understand what he's saying or else.
"Whatever you think happened? It's not on you because you didn't tell Stiles who she was," Isaac starts. "You didn't make a fool of him in front of his closest friends, and you didn't embarrass him by reacting the way you did after finding out one of Stiles' friends is an Argent. I doubt Stiles thinks anything less of you because of your behavior, especially considering what he knows about what she did to you. If anything, he must be worried sick about you, not angry or embarrassed or whatever it is you think he's feeling right now."
Derek's breath hitches, and he's not proud of himself when he feels tears sting in his eyes.
He wants to tell Isaac he's wrong, that everything is on him, because everything that happens wrong is always his fault.
And he also wants to believe him.
With everything he has, he wants what Isaac said to be true.
"And if he knows," Isaac stops, takes a deep breath, starts up again. "And if he knows her, than I doubt his impression of her is still the same after having met you. I doubt he still thinks she's a nice person, if he ever met her or thought so before, after knowing about what happened. You won't know anything about where he stands when it comes to her unless you speak to him."
Derek shakes his head again, the words I can't see him and I doubt he wants anything to do with me and what if he doesn't believe me lodged in his throat.
"Cora told me Stiles was saying something when they came to pick you up," Isaac says softly, obviously seeing Derek's struggle. "Do you remember what it was?"
Derek's entire body tenses, because no, he doesn't remember Stiles saying anything to him that night.
All he remembers is the heavy weight of guilt and shame on his shoulders, how it felt like someone was ripping his chest open and twisting his insides, and Stiles voice telling him that you never even told me her name.
"He didn't say anything," Derek croaks out, heart constricting painfully in his chest.
"He did," Isaac tells him, knocking their elbows together. "Cora told me he kept saying it wasn't your fault, and that you didn't do anything wrong."
Derek shakes his head, "He didn't."
"He did," Isaac says softly. "And he's right. It wasn't your fault, and you didn't do anything wrong. You had a perfectly normal reaction to a bad situation, and no one would ever blame you for what you did. Least of all Stiles. "
Derek doesn't say anything, torn between wanting to believe every word Isaac is saying and being angry at himself for daring to hope him right.
But he knows better.
He knows better than to let himself think he can have this.
He already knew better before he started anything with Stiles, but he went right ahead and let himself think things would be okay this time, and look where that got him.
"You know what else he said?" Isaac prompts him, voice calm and low. "After Cora and you left?"
Derek wants to tell him that no, he obviously doesn't.
And he also wants to tell him that he doesn't care.
That whatever Stiles might have said won't change anything, won't make him feel better, even if he knows it's not true.
"He told Laura his friend never told him she had any family," Isaac says, and Derek swears his heart stops in his chest. "I know you're worried about seeing her again, but for what Stiles told her, he had no idea she even existed."
Derek entire body is still, heart pounding in his chest, the rush of blood in his ears the only thing he can hear as Isaac's words turn in his head.
Because it can't be true, can it?
He would have known, he would have listened if Stiles told him that, if he tried to tell him that.
Derek tries to bring back the memory of that night, not that it's hard.
Not like he hasn't been going over everything that's happened in his head since he got here two days ago.
He knows he doesn't really remember anything after Stiles told him Derek had never mentioned who Kate was to him, the panic all consuming as the guilt came crashing down on him for having failed once again.
He tries to think before that, tries to remember if Stiles said anything, what he said, if he ever told him that-
I didn't know, Derek. Allison never mentioned her. I had no idea, Derek. I promise. I didn't know. You never even told me her name.
Derek must make a sound like he's in pain, because next thing he knows he has Isaac's hands on him, pulling him up in a sitting position, hands on Derek's shoulders, so he can make sure he's okay.
"I walked out on him without saying anything while his friends just stood there," Derek tells him in a rush of breath, trying to make Isaac understand how fucking awful this is. "I panicked, and I ran, and I didn't stop when he kept calling my name. I ignored him, and when he finally caught up to me, he- I didn't listen. I didn't listen."
Isaac doesn't say anything for a few moments, knowing Derek needs some time in silence to get his head around everything.
How he did exactly what Stiles asked him not to do, and that was to push him away and run out and not let him in.
"I'm not going to tell you that walking away was the best thing you could have done," Isaac says, choosing his words carefully. "You could have handled a lot of things differently, yes, but knowing the reason you did what you did, no one can blame you for your actions. No one can blame you for not wanting to stay."
Of course Derek could have handled things differently.
He could have told Stiles who she was before all of this happened.
Or he could have stayed and fucking listened to his boyfriend when he tried to tell him that he didn't know Kate, because he didn't even know she existed.
Or he could have walked away before he ever let himself feel something for him.
So yes, Isaac, he could have handled a lot of things differently.
But it's all for nothing now, thinking and wondering about what he could have done or said another way, because the mess has been made.
Derek has fucked up, and all he can do is accept he once again fucked things up and deal with it.
Or try to fix them, if they can still be fixed.
But it's not time for him to think about that now, as he lies back down on the bed, Isaac not saying anything else to him, knowing the guilt and disgust and self-loathing cut too deep.
That his mind is still not in a place where he can think about all of this rationally, not when it's all still too fresh in his mind.
They both lie there quietly, and when Derek's lids start to drop, he doesn't fight sleep, hoping his dreams will give him something better than what his life has right now.
Derek wakes up the next morning to the sounds of people in the kitchen, the clatter of pans and low murmur of voices, and for a second he forgets about the last couple of days.
Only to be reminded of it when he stretches and finds the other side of the bed empty and cold.
Not that Stiles ever stayed the night in Derek's loft, but Derek had started to get used to waking up with someone wrapped up in him the few nights a week he spent over at Stiles.
He swallows around a lump in his throat as he wonders whether or not he should get up or just stay in bed all day, just like he did the day before and the day before that. His stomach ends up deciding for him, when it grumbles loudly in hunger.
Derek's a little bit surprised when he steps into the kitchen to find Isaac leaning against the fridge, a mug in his hand, with Erica sitting on a chair by his side holding a glass of apple juice, and Boyd on the stove, flipping pancakes.
He should have expected this, should have known Isaac would call them for reinforcements as soon as he could, should have known they'd be here to keep him from staying in bed and doing nothing for the foreseeable future.
You know, nothing but think about all the ways he screwed up his relationship with Stiles and if he has a remote chance to make things better.
He's also grateful his sisters aren't here, if he's being honest with himself, because as much as he loves them he can't help but feel even more like a screw up whenever they are around.
Boyd barely spares him a glance and a tilt of his chin in acknowledgement before he goes back to the task at hand, the scar at the side of his head from surgery visible as he moves.
Isaac just gives him a raised eyebrow, as if daring him to say anything or ask Erica and Boyd to leave.
Derek doesn't dare.
He's actually fighting against the sudden rush of affection and urge to break down and cry at having these people as his friends.
That is until Erica gets up from the chair, walks up to him, and pulls him into a hug, her face smashed against his chest.
Only to pull back and say, "You smell," as she wrinkles her nose.
Derek blinks down at her, face blank, because him smelling bad is the least of his worries right now.
Anything that's not relieving what happened Saturday and feeling like a complete and utter disappointment doesn't really bother him much.
In fact, he can say with absolute certainty that having to take a shower or brush his teeth didn't even cross his mind since Cora got him home three days ago.
Maybe that should worry him.
"You should take a shower before breakfast," Isaac suggests, taking a sip from his coffee.
Derek opens his mouth to say there's no point in showering because it's not like he has anywhere to go.
Like, let's say, back to Stiles' apartment.
At least not right now.
But at the unimpressed look Boyd gives him as he says, "I'm not giving you any pancakes when I can smell you from here," makes his snap his mouth shut and sigh.
He doesn't say anything to them as he turns on his back and heads for the bathroom, ignoring Erica when she calls out after him to, "Don't forget to brush your teeth!"
Derek lets his mind travel back to Saturday night as he turns on the water and takes off his clothes, hissing through his teeth when he steps into the shower and directly under the water spray, the water so hot it makes his skin turn red.
It's a good reprieve from the emotional pain, at least, to turn his focus to the ache he feels on his chest and stomach and not the one that stabs him in the heart every time he thinks of Stiles.
And all the guilt and shame that come with it.
The self-loathing.
The anger at not having listened.
He doesn't take long in the shower, his stomach demanding to be fed, and he takes one look at his simple blue toothbrush before remembering the Batman one he keeps at Stiles' apartment and deciding to not do what Erica said.
Derek makes sure his towel is wrapped securely around his waist before stepping out of the bathroom and walking towards where he keeps his clothes, making sure Erica is not lurking anywhere with her cell phone in hand and ready to catch him off guard so she can take a picture of him naked.
It's been known to happen.
When he starts walking back to the kitchen, it's to find everyone in the living room instead, with breakfast set on his big wooden table and a free chair for him to sit on.
"C'mon," Erica pats the back of the empty chair as she grins at him. "Come sit next to me and tell me how much you love my boyfriend's pancakes."
Isaac rolls his eyes at her, while Derek just takes a deep breath and does as he's told.
Because even though they might be acting like nothing's wrong, even though they're not asking any questions, he knows that won't last.
Isaac certainly told Erica and Boyd about their conversation yesterday, so it's just a matter of time before he has to talk to them about it.
He knows it won't take long before they decide that playing-nice-time is over and start getting him to tell them himself.
Resistance is futile.
Especially when they're all as close to each other as they are.
As close to each other in a way that differs from Derek's relationship with his sisters, which is kind of the reason why they're not here, why they're keeping their distance.
Because the pressure he feels whenever he's with his family is different from what he feels whenever he's with his friends.
If Laura and Cora are around, he can't help but feel like he has to live up to their expectations of him and be better. And, at times like these, when he can't, when he does something and it blows up back in his face, it feels like he's failed them, like they're disappointed in him.
But with Erica, Isaac, and Boyd?
There's no pressure.
There's only the knowledge that they've had some awful things happen to them too, and that they get him.
They've seen him in his best and in his worst, and it doesn't matter because they've also been through worse.
Isaac with his father's abuse and Boyd with the guilt of his little sister's death and Erica with parents who couldn't care less if she was alive or dead.
Not that Laura and Cora haven't had anything bad happen to them during their lives - say, their entire family burning to death and their father dying in a car crash -, but they haven't experience the kind of guilt that consumes them, haven't doubted themselves and if they were good enough or worthy enough to have people's affections.
Just like the three people sitting in front of him have.
Erica serves him a plate while Boyd hands him the syrup, the living room filled with the sounds of them eating breakfast.
Derek has to admit Erica is right, he does love Boyd's pancakes.
Actually, scratch that.
He loves everything and anything Boyd cooks, because he can always count on his food to taste amazing.
He knows his mother agrees, which is the reason why she hired Boyd to cook for the bar.
And it's not a surprise, really, considering Derek met him after he let his dad rope him into taking some cooking lessons when they were in New York and Boyd was one of his classmates.
And the best student in class.
His friends make idle conversation as they eat, not treating Derek's silence like it's anything out of the ordinary - which kind of isn't, but still -, and Derek finds himself relaxing a little in their presence.
Even though he knows they're luring him into a false sense of security before attacking him with questions and demanding to know what happened, not that Isaac hasn't told them already.
And, well, not really demanding, but strongly suggesting he tells them about it if he doesn't want to suffer through Isaac retelling him about his and Cora's sexcapades, or Erica forcing him to marathon Sex and the City, or Boyd just staring blankly at him until he breaks.
His friends, really.
But part of him knows this is a good thing, that they push him to tell them things and not let him stew in his own thoughts and misery for too long, even if he doesn't like it.
It's because of them things didn't end as badly as they could have for him when his relationship with Kate came to an end, and it's no wonder they're the ones to help him now, with this, to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.
That's still not enough to make him offer to wash the dishes after they're done eating, though.
Since Boyd cooked, Erica and Isaac are the ones who take care of the dirty dishes, going back to the kitchen just as Derek gets up and goes back to his bed.
The idea of staying in it all day sounding more and more appealing the closer he gets to the bed, especially as he sees Boyd following after him.
He knew this was coming, but he just thought they'd at least wait a couple more hours before bringing up the subject.
You know, giving him time to mentally prepare himself for the conversation.
He should have known better.
"I have to go back to the bar soon," Boyd says, and Derek guesses that explains it. "Talia wants me to make sure the kitchen is set before we open."
Derek forces himself to nod as he climbs into bed, mind going to his and Stiles' first fight after Derek took him for a walk in the woods, to see the old house. The way Stiles' face fell when his mother mentioned hoping he would be at the opening with Derek and Derek hesitated, only to end up saying maybe Stiles shouldn't go.
Not because Derek didn't want him there, but because he was afraid of what it would mean to them. He was afraid of introducing Stiles to everyone, officially, as his boyfriend. He was afraid of how that would mean that if he ended up doing something to mess their relationship up, he wouldn't be the only one affected. How his friends would have once again welcomed someone into their fold only to have them being pushed away by Derek's incapability of doing anything right.
The mention of his mother also makes Derek's stomach churn, because he knows he'll have to talk to her about all of this, too.
Eventually.
Possibly sometime in the really distant future, if Derek has his way.
"She finally has a date set?" Derek finds himself asking, hoping that if he sounds interested enough, Boyd will take the bait and not talk to him about Saturday or Stiles.
And he's kind of curious, if he does say so himself, because for all intents and purposes the bar could have been open and running for a couple of months now.
The only reason it probably isn't is because of his mom's tendency to check and double check and triple check everything to make sure it's just as it's supposed to be.
And by supposed to be he means just the way she likes them.
Boyd nods, "Halloween."
Derek's lips thin, imagining how much Stiles would have liked that, the opportunity to dress up and convince Derek to go right along with him.
But it doesn't really matter now, does it?
Not now that he's potentially managed to ruin everything.
Because that's what Derek does.
He tries to be good, and he tries to do things right, but somehow he always ends up in a situation where whatever decision he makes ends up being a bad one.
He hears Boyd sigh, and that's Derek's cue to turn on his side and hope that he looks pathetic enough to make Boyd doubt making Derek talk about what happened and what he's thinking is a good idea.
As expected, he doesn't succeed.
"Isaac told us he talked to you last night," Boyd starts. "So I'm not going to sit here and pretend I don't know the kind of shit that's going through your head and wait for you to open your mouth and talk to me about it."
Derek blinks at him, a little startled.
Because Boyd almost sounds angry as he speaks, arms crossed over his chest as he levels Derek with a look that makes him want to start apologizing for making him feel whatever it is he's feeling.
He even goes as far as opening his mouth to say something, to tell him he didn't mean to make him angry, that he's sorry, that it wasn't his intention.
Only to have Boyd raise a hand at him and stop him in his tracks, eyes glinting as he stares at Derek straight in the eye.
"Mostly because I know you don't want you say anything," Boyd raises an eyebrow at him. "And also because I don't want to hear about it."
Derek clenches his jaw as dreads sets in his bones, as he thinks that not even his friends, not even Boyd, can deal with him anymore.
That he's fucked up so much not even them want to be anywhere near him.
"I'm not going to sit here and listen to you say you fucked things up, that it's all your fault, because if you would have done something this way or that way things would have worked out differently," Boyd says, eyes never leaving Derek's. "Because that's bullshit, Derek. I'm sure Isaac told you already, but I'm going to say it again. It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. And what happened is not on anyone, least of all you. You can't blame yourself for what happened, and you can't blame yourself for not wanting to hang around after it did."
Derek's breath hitches, eyes stinging as he tries to make sense of Boyd's words, tries to figure out how he could even think that when it's so fucking obvious Derek is to blame.
"Do you understand?" Boyd asks him, voice low and calm and hitting Derek straight in the gut.
Because he doesn't understand.
Not really.
He can't even begin to imagine why Boyd is saying this to him when it's obviously a lie.
Unless.
"It's not your fault," Boyd says again, with as much conviction as before. "I don't know what's going through your head, but no one blames you for reacting the way you did. Not me, not Isaac and Erica, not your sisters, not Stiles. No one."
Derek shakes his head, mouth dry as he says, "You don't know that."
How could he know that?
How could he say Derek is not the one to blame for this?
And that no one thinks he did something to fuck things up?
That Stiles doesn't think that?
"I do know that," Boyd gives him a long look. "I know that because that's how I feel. And I know that because Erica and Isaac told me the same thing, and they'll probably tell you themselves all about it later. And I know that Laura and Cora love you and would never blame you for anything, no matter how much you think you deserve it. And I know that because both of them also told me about what Stiles said when they came to pick you up at his friend's house, and I doubt time made him change his mind or think you did something to fuck things up between you two. Even though you leaving before he could explain things to you wasn't the best thing you could have done, I doubt he's mad at you for it."
It keeps coming back to that.
It's the second time someone's mentioned Stiles saying how Derek had nothing to feel guilty about, how he did nothing wrong, how the blame for what happened wasn't on him.
And Derek doesn't know if he should believe what his friends are saying because he doesn't remember Stiles saying those things.
He doesn't really remember anything past his lips forming the words you never even told me her name, so even if he did say that, even if he did think Derek did something to screw things up, he can't be sure.
Unless he talks to Stiles.
Which is something he equal parts wants to do and dreads with every fiber of his being.
Because if they're lying to him, if this is just their way of trying to make Derek feel better, then Derek doesn't know what he'll do, doesn't know if he'll be able to deal with Stiles rejecting him.
And if what they're saying is true and Stiles doesn't believe Derek is to blame for what happened?
He still must not be very happy about Derek running away and not staying so they could talk about things.
About Derek once again pushing him away instead of letting him in, instead of giving him the benefit of the doubt, instead of letting him show him that he's there and he's listening.
And it's time for Derek to feel ashamed of himself once again, because if there is a chance of them working through this, of being together again, he might have fucked it all up anyway.
Seeing Stiles and talking to him again might be for nothing if Stiles is tired of having Derek walk away from him every time life gets rough or he's caught off guard by something.
Boyd is still staring at him, eyes intent on Derek's face while Derek tries to come to terms with the realization that maybe he didn't really do anything wrong, with the exception of walking away from Stiles and not listening to what he had to say.
He's still wary, though.
Still afraid of letting himself believe this is not on him, only to be proven wrong later.
But hope is there, even if it's just a sliver of it, that maybe this time things are different.
He's always known Stiles wasn't like Kate, but what he hadn't realized until now is that he's also not the same Derek he was when he was with her.
He's different when he's with Stiles, because their relationship is different than what his was with her.
He's been acting like he used to when he was with Kate, has been fitting himself into that same pattern he did when they were together, reliving what happened to him when they were dating, only with Stiles.
When he shouldn't have.
When he really really really shouldn't fucking have.
Because it's not the same.
They're not the same, the situation is not the same, nothing is the same.
Right?
Whatever expression that shows on his face must be enough for Boyd, because he just nods at him before giving him a small smile.
Derek is too busy feeling confused and reevaluating his entire life, his actions, and his relationship with Stiles to notice Erica and Isaac coming back, only snapping out of his thoughts when Erica throws herself on top of his bed and ends up elbowing him in the stomach.
Derek tries to glare, still feeling too out of sorts to manage looking angry at her.
Not that it'd work either way, since she's long ago stopped feeling intimidated by Derek, but still.
Erica just grins at him, fluffing his pillows before making herself comfortable by his side, taking one of Derek's hands in hers so she can play with his fingers.
Isaac drags one of the chairs near the table next to Boyd, Derek thinking to himself he really should invest in more comfortable furniture.
Or just more furniture, in general.
His heart constricts in his chest as he stares at all of them, in his loft, by his side, just like they always have been, through better and worse.
Not only all three of them knew everything there was to know about Derek, they also had met first hand the skeletons in Derek's closet.
All of his insecurities and issues and the bad things that happened to him.
Everything he keeps hidden so he seems... safe, normal, happy.
All of the things people don't know about him, because if they did, Derek is certain they wouldn't want anything to do with him.
Or at least he was certain.
After his talk with Boyd and Isaac, he doesn't really know anymore.
And the thing about his friends is that not only they know about every bad thing that happened to him, they also accept them.
They accept them and, in turn, Derek makes room in his closet for their skeletons.
For all the things that they struggle with.
Sometimes he wonders if that's the reason why they're such good friends, why they're family to one another, why they didn't even hesitate to pack their things and move to Beacon Hills when Derek told them he was leaving New York.
Because they're all just as broken as the next one, all just as damaged, all living with their own demons.
The heaviness of his thoughts must show on his face, because he simultaneously gets Isaac nudging one of his socked feet with his own and Erica poking him in the ribs with a finger.
"Stop with the face," Erica tells him.
Derek blinks at her, "What face?"
"Your I'm thinking thoughts and hurting face."
"I don't have a face," Derek mumbles.
"You kind of do," Boyd nods in agreement.
"Your mouth thins and your eyebrows come together like a huge black caterpillar," Isaac says. "It's almost the same as your I'm going to rip your throat out with my teeth face, only without the crazy eyes."
"The crazy eyes," Derek says flatly, and then backtracks. "Huge black caterpillar."
He should feel offended, right?
He should feel offended and angry and not incredibly amused and like he lucked out to have these three as his friends.
"You should let me pluck your eyebrows," Erica tells him, moving so she's kneeling on the bed and looming over Derek, grabbing his face between her hands and running her thumbs over his brows.
Derek looks helplessly over at Boyd, who just leans back against his chair, eyes glinting and mouth forming a faint smirk.
"I'm not letting you anywhere near my face with tweezers," Derek tells her, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and breaking her hold on him.
"But," Erica tries to protest, flopping down on the mattress again.
"No," Derek says firmly. "We all remember what happened to Isaac."
"I thought we agreed on never talking about that again," Isaac hisses, neck flushing when Boyd outright snorts and covers his mouth with a hand so keep himself from laughing.
Derek can't help the way his lips curl up in a smirk at seeing Isaac like that, trying to look mad at them while he presses his lips together to keep himself from smiling.
He knows better than anyone how hard it is to let people laugh about something that happened to him or he did, and how Isaac struggles with the same thing.
Because when you spend years with the people who are supposed to love you and protect you laughing at you, it kind of makes it hard for you to accept or even understand that laughter is not always a means to hurt you, to make you feel like you're a lesser person.
Letting go of that doubt that every time someone laughed close him wasn't because they were laughing at him was something Derek learned with their help, by becoming their friends, by letting them get close to him and get to know him and, in turn, him getting to know them.
And it was also something he learned with Stiles.
Every time he laughed when he was around Derek, the way his eyes turned bright and looked at him with nothing but warmth and genuine happiness as his shoulders shook and he tried to catch his breath.
Like just being around Derek was exactly where he wanted to be.
Derek wonders if that's still true.
If what Boyd said applies and if Stiles doesn't blame him for anything.
Maybe only with the exception of leaving him without a chance for them to talk about what happened.
He also wonders if he can fix that, if he even wants to - he wants to -, if Stiles would let him.
"You kind of looked cute, though," Erica muses out loud, lips stretching in a grin. "Like a bald puppy."
"No," Isaac shakes his head furiously, glaring at her.
Or trying to.
The way the flush raises up from his neck to the edge of his jaw and cheeks kind of ruins it.
"I think he looked better when the hair started growing back," Boyd offers, and his flat voice kind of makes him sound like he means it.
"No."
"I don't remember him looking good," Derek remarks, trying to keep his face blank when Isaac turned to him. "But I remember him rubbing his face against one of Peter's wool sweaters because his face was itchy."
Isaac opens his mouth only to snap it shut again, abruptly getting up from the chair and making his way towards the kitchen.
Derek would be worried if it wasn't for the fact he can see Isaac's shoulders shaking from holding in the laugh that wants to burst out of him.
Boyd just shakes his heads and gets up to go after him, probably more to leave Erica alone with him than to actually make sure Isaac is okay.
Because he is.
As they can tell by the way they can hear him laughing as soon as he disappears into the kitchen.
And as soon as Boyd disappears after him, Erica immediately props herself on one elbow so she can look down at him.
"Subtle," Derek tells her, starting to feel nervous now that he's not surrounded by the three of them anymore.
Because all it takes for the self-doubt and guilt to start making themselves known again is for him to not have other things, or people, demanding his attention.
That's how his life was like right after him and Kate broke up, if he can call that a break up.
His friends and family hardly let him have any time alone, hanging out at his apartment watching movies and ordering take out and roping Derek into endless games of Monopoly.
Sometimes, when he's feeling particularly playful and happy with the world - which doesn't really happen that often, but still -, he likes to say the worst thing about what happened then wasn't really what he went through with Kate, but having to sit down in his living room and watch his mother throw fake money bills at Boyd's face while Erica tried to flirt her way into convincing Uncle Peter to sell her one of his properties.
Needless to say, they're forbidden to play board game with each other ever again.
"Do you want me to call them back so they can hear our conversation?" Erica raises an eyebrow at him. "Because I'd be happy to."
Derek presses his lips together and lowers his eyes, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt as he waits for Erica to say what she wants to say.
He's still feeling as confused as ever about his talk with Boyd, and he's pretty sure that whatever Erica tries to tell him won't really help him make sense of it all.
Because the idea of Stiles, or anyone, really, not blaming him for what happened is as foreign to him as the idea of Erica with short hair.
"I don't know what Boyd told you," Erica says, voice low as she looks down at him. "So I can't really say I agree with everything he said to you, even though, let's face it, I probably do."
Derek can't help but snort at that.
"Hey," Erica smacks him in the chest with a hand. "I'm agreeable. I can agree with things."
"As long as they're exactly how you want them, you mean," Derek mumbles, not even trying to roll over when Erica smacks him again.
"As I was saying," Erica narrows her eyes at him, but smoothes her expression back up. "I don't know what he told you, but I know that whatever it is that was going on in that pretty little head of yours, last night with Isaac and today after you woke up, that makes you look like you think you're the worst human being in the entire planet? Not true."
Derek lifts his head up only to blink at her, brows coming together in confusion as he swallows and tries to understand why she thinks that.
And not just her, but why Isaac thinks and why Boyd thinks that and why they say Stiles thinks that, too.
And why his sisters and mother and uncle probably agree.
Because as much as Derek knows that the way Kate treated him wasn't right, he doesn't understand why she would have done it if at least part of it wasn't true.
If he didn't do something to deserve it.
So to have these people tell him otherwise?
It rattles him.
It makes him doubt himself again, but not in the way he's used to.
Not because he's thinking he did something wrong or because he's wrong, but making him think about how maybe he didn't deserve what happened to him, maybe didn't deserve to be treated the way he was by her.
"You're a wonderful person, Derek," Erica says, smiling softly at him. "And I'm not just saying that because of your pretty eyes and chiseled jaw and ridiculously hot body. I'm saying that because you're the kindest, most loving, unbelievably sweet guy I've ever met."
"I'm-," Derek starts shaking his head.
"Let me finish," Erica says, voice cracking as her eyes water before she takes a deep breath and looks at him straight in the eye. "You gave me a home and a family and a place in your heart, and you helped me realize that I didn't need my parent's support or love to be happy. I just need to love myself, and surround myself with people who loved me just as much and exactly as I am. You have no idea how much that meant to me. No idea."
"Erica," Derek says, voice rough as he tries to speak past the lump forming in his throat.
Because he hasn't seen this Erica in a really long time.
This teary-eyed little girl who looks so fucking scared and lost and like she could break at any moment.
"And that's why I'll always be here to tell you that there's absolutely nothing wrong with you," Erica says steadily, going as far as pointing a finger at him and everything. "You're not a failure, and you're not a bad person, and you don't deserve bad things happening to you. What that woman said or did to you that made you believe that? That you're not worth it? It was all lies, Derek. It was all wrong and it was fucked up, and you never ever deserved to be treated that way. Not by her, and not by anyone."
Derek's eyes burn as he tries to grasp the meaning of Erica's words, as he tries to understand why the people he loves more than life itself keep telling him that, when he doesn't see things that way.
And the doubt comes creeping back in, because maybe they're right.
Maybe they're right and Derek's wrong. There's really nothing new about him being mistaken, if he thinks about it, so it wouldn't exactly be a surprise.
Maybe they're right and what they keep telling him, keep making him try and understand, is all true.
Maybe he isn't the one to blame.
Maybe he isn't a failure and a disappointment and a burden in people's lives.
Maybe he didn't do anything wrong and there's nothing for him to be feeling guilty about.
And maybe Kate was the one who was fucked up, not him, and he didn't deserve what happened to him.
Maybe his only mistake was not giving Stiles the time he needed to explain things to him, but walking away doesn't necessarily mean he did anything wrong.
Derek takes a shallow breath as he looks at Erica through his tears, mouth parted as he shakes his head and tries to say something over as the crushing feeling of realization starts to set in.
"You're starting to get it, aren't you?" Erica says softly, giving him a wobbly smile as she looks down at him.
Derek opens and closes his mouth a few times before he gives her a shaky nod, swallowing around the lump on his throat as he says, "I didn't deserve it, did I? I didn't deserve anything she did to me. I didn't do- I didn't do anything wrong."
There's a best of silence as Erica looks down at him and gives him one of her brightest smiles as her eyes fill with tears and she shakes her head, "You didn't."
The air rushes out of Derek's lungs as he hears it, as he finally starts to understand.
But before he can say anything else he finds himself under a pile of bodies, with Erica's head pressed against his chest and Isaac's curly hair in his mouth and Boyd strong arms around his shoulders.
All of them saying finally and you didn't and it was never your fault and I love you.
And yeah, Derek is finally starting to get it.
"We come bearing gifts," Laura says as she enters the loft, Cora at her heels.
"You mean I come bearing gifts," Cora glares at her over the top of three large pizza boxes.
"Don't be a brat," Laura points a finger at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I'm the one who placed the order. And payed."
Derek shakes his head at his sisters, lips twitching up in a smile as he curls his hands into fists to keep himself from showing how nervous he is.
Isaac gets up to help Cora with the food, placing a kiss on her forehead and smiling softly when she kisses him back on the nose, while Laura walks past them and flops down on a chair beside Derek.
Who doesn't need to look at her to know she has her eyes trained on him, probably staring at him with a look that's a mixture between being worried about him and kind of angry that he had his friends keep her away from him for two days.
Derek knows better than to try and explain to her why that was, knowing it'll hurt her if she finds out about the way she and Cora sometimes make him feel when they're around and he's having a bad day.
He hopes she forgets all about that when he tells her about the conversation he had with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, and how he's starting to understand and believe in what they've been trying to convince him of since he broke up with Kate.
That he doesn't deserve every bad thing that's happened to him, and that it's not all punishment for him being a bad person, and that none of it it's his fault.
Mostly.
He didn't magically let all of the guilt go, but he figures he's taking a step in the right direction by recognizing it's not his job to carry it around.
"I'll go get drinks," Erica pipes up from her place sitting on Boyd's lap, taking his hand in hers and tugging him forward. "Why don't you come help me?"
"I'll go help Erica get drinks," Boyd says flatly, both of them getting up and heading for the kitchen.
Derek can't really help the way he rolls his eyes.
Subtlety is apparently something that doesn't exist here.
Which he should have known, when Isaac asked him if it was okay for him to invite Laura and Cora over for dinner.
Nevermind that Cora actually lives in the loft.
Not that she has been there the last couple of days, when Isaac politely asked her and Laura to get the fuck out.
Only for Boyd and Erica to take their places yesterday, Erica announcing they'd be having a sleepover right after they calmed down from piling up on top of Derek on the bed after him admitting that his friends were right and there was nothing wrong with him.
Which is something he kind of still can't get his head around, if he's being honest.
He figures it'll take some time for him to let himself believe that, for that change in how he thinks about and sees himself to start, for him to come around and understand that all those things Kate said to him weren't true.
And he figures that the first step into making that change is to let his family know about it.
You know, considering how invested they've always been in Derek's well-being and happiness.
"I'll get napkins," Isaac says brightly, pecking Cora on the lips before placing the boxes on the table and following in after them, throwing his arms around Erica and Boyd's shoulders as they walk towards the kitchen.
Cora sits down on the chair Boyd vacated, legs stretched out in front of her and feet crossed at the ankles.
Derek sits there and lets his sisters look at him, letting them take him in and after two days of not seeing him and notice that he's showered, shaved, and wearing clean clothes.
Which they know it's something he didn't really care about after Kate, thinking that the filthy on the outside was just a way for him to make people see how he was feeling inside.
But things are different.
Derek can sort of maybe possibly finally see that.
They still don't ask him if he's okay, something Derek thinks happens mostly because they're not really sure if they want to know the answer, not this soon after seeing him break.
So he lifts his head up, looks from one to the other, and gives them a little push, "Ask me if I'm okay."
Cora blinks at him in confusion, "You want us to ask you if you're okay."
Derek nods, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through his nose as he says, "Yes."
He knows that's unusual for him, knows that in the past whenever one of them tried to ask him how he was feeling, he barked out a harsh fine and snapped at them.
Today is different.
He needs them to ask, so he can force himself to get the words he needs to say out.
"Derek," Laura says, placing a hand on his shoulder and making Derek turns his attention to her, her voice soft, gaze understanding if not still a little bit confused. "Are you okay?"
Derek opens and closes his mouth, his throat suddenly dry, and he licks his lips and takes another deep breath before staring at them in the eyes and saying, "No, but I think I will be."
They both blink at him, bodies so still Derek can't even see a hair on their heads moving.
He knows they get it, he knows they understand that something important just happened by having Derek recognize and admit out loud that he's not fine, but that there's a chance he can be.
You know, in the future.
As long as he has their help and support and love and understanding.
And patience.
Because even though Derek is starting to get it, it doesn't mean he won't have days where it feels like he's right back at square one, and it won't mean it won't take a really long time before he feels good about himself again.
In fact, as good as he feels about this right now, he can't ignore that having to talk to them still makes him nervous, like they still have expectations of him that he's not sure he'll be able to measure up to.
But still, talking to them and explaining it all is important.
They are his family, and Derek loves them, and they need to know.
Laura presses her lips together, voice cracking when she starts saying, "What-," only to stop and clear her throat before she keeps going. "What-"
Or trying to, not that she's that successful.
Derek doesn't really blame her.
He knows he's not really acting like himself right now, and maybe that's a good thing.
"What happened?" Derek offers, raising an eyebrow and trying to turn this conversation a tone lighter than it is, then he ever thought it could be.
Both Cora and Laura nod at him, eyes guarded as they wait for an explanation.
Derek doesn't blame them for being wary of this, the sudden change, how for them it must look like all the time they tried to get him to understand that his perception of the world and himself was fucked up - because Kate made it so, not him - didn't do anything.
But after breaking up his first real relationship after Kate and spending a few days with his friends, he's suddenly... well, changed.
Not better, but getting there.
Hopefully.
Because, really, this is all so new to him, just-yesterday new to him, that Derek hopes it won't vanish as soon as things start getting rough.
"I- uhm-," Derek starts, realizing that just because he wants to talk to them about this doesn't mean he's suddenly be successful at getting his sentences out. "I had a talk with Erica. And Boyd. And Isaac."
When Laura and Cora nod at him, he figures they still understand him, though.
That he could still stumble and stutter through whatever it is that he wants to say to them and they'll stay quiet and listen, wait until he gets everything out.
Which is not something that used to happen with Kate.
She was impatient, and she always made it clear how Derek should learn how to speak before occupying her time with muttered nonsense.
And that's another thing he relived, a pattern he got stuck in, because he still didn't understand that those people weren't the same as Kate.
Because of that, Derek can't help but feel like he failed those he loves, by comparing them to the woman they all hate, the woman who hurt them all as deeply as she possibly could.
"And they mentioned- They said that-," Derek licks his lips, nerves showing when his voice starts shaking a little and sounds small as he says. "When you came to pick me up. Stiles- Stiles was saying something?"
Laura blinks at him, tone cautious and slow, "Yes. You don't-"
"I don't really-," Derek shakes his head. "I don't really remember. Most of it is all-"
He makes a vague gesture with his hands, trying to get them to understand how everything was just too much pain and panic and guilt for him to bother trying to pay attention to someone talking to him.
Cora and Laura share a glance, Derek's heartbeat speeding up as he thinks that this is it, this is the moment he finds out they're all lying to him.
That Stiles does blame him and that he did do something wrong that Stiles knows her.
"He was," Cora says, eyes glued to his. "He kept saying-"
"Are you sure you want to know?" Laura asks, fingers spasming against his shoulder a little.
Derek nods.
Because he does.
He really really really fucking does.
He needs to know.
More than anything, he needs to have this, the confirmation that Stiles doesn't blame him, that he never knew who Kate was, that Derek's not at risk when he's with him.
"I don't know what he said to Laura after we left, but," Cora swallows. "He kept saying it wasn't- He kept saying you didn't do anything wrong, that it wasn't your fault, and that it was okay."
Derek closes his eyes, letting the meaning of Cora's words wash over him, feeling his muscles loosen as he lets out a relieved breath.
It's true.
What his friends said, it's all true.
About Stiles not blaming him or being angry or embarrassed by Derek's actions.
There's only one thing he's missing, though.
And then turns to look at Laura, "Did he say anything after? To you?"
"Yes," Laura tells him, eyes bright as she looks at him, like she knows exactly where he's going with this. "He said he didn't know who she was. That he had no idea. Not just because you never said anything, but because his friend never mentioned she had any family."
Derek's chest spasms, body curling as he drops his head between his knees and closes his eyes and tries to calm himself down.
Laura snakes an arm around his shoulders and hug him close to her, just as Cora rests her forehead against the back of Derek's neck and winds her arms around his waist.
His relief grows at hearing that from Laura, at knowing Stiles doesn't know Kate, has never met her, didn't even know she existed.
And at the same time, anger and dread and guilt grow inside of him because he didn't bother listening when Stiles tried to tell him that.
In a way, having the confirmation that Stiles doesn't know Kate because she's never been in the picture, has never even been mentioned by her own family, carries a heavier weight to him than not having Stiles thinking he's useless.
Because this way he knows he can be around him.
He knows he can be with Stiles without worrying about whether or not he'll bump into Kate when they're together.
That is, if Stiles still wants to be with him.
He doesn't know how long they stay like that, only that it's long enough for the pizza to turn cold and Isaac, Erica, and Boyd come out of the kitchen to see what's going on.
Derek moves to lift himself up, Laura and Cora letting go of him but still staying close, still keeping their eyes on him, like he's going to break at any second.
Little do they know Derek is feeling better than he has in a really long time.
Scared shitless about this whole thing, but better.
"We should heat up the pizzas," Derek says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks, and then looking at both of his sisters. "And then I should probably tell you about some things I've- I've come to realize. About- About myself and Kate and what happened."
The looks he gets from them are both astonished and hopeful, and Derek is glad to have his friends there to help him with this.
Because he knows how long they've all been waiting for this, for him to come to terms with and understand that what happened to him was not okay.
Not that he thinks that by telling them he'll automatically learn to let go of all the guilt and start thinking he's not scum, but it's a start.
And Laura and Cora both see it exactly like that as Erica, Isaac and Boyd go wash all the plates and glasses and leave them to talk in the living room after they've all had dinner.
Derek is nervous when he starts talking, tearing the napkin he has in his hand in tiny little pieces and placing them on the table, but he can feel himself feeling lighter and more and more relaxed as he tells them about what happened since Isaac asked them to leave, about the conversations he had with his friends, and about his thoughts and confusion and hesitance to believe what that they meant what they said, and about how he slowly came to the realization that they were right.
His voice is hoarse when he's done, and even though it feels like the biggest weight has been lift off his shoulders, he feels drained.
Laura looks at him with shiny eyes and the biggest smile Derek's ever seen on her face, radiating pride and love and relief just as great at Derek's.
Cora is the one who surprises him, though.
By bursting into tears.
And swearing, albeit sweetly, at him.
"You fucking asshole," Cora yells as she clenches her hands into fists and cries. "The only thing wrong with you is that it took you this long to fucking realize there's nothing wrong with you! You're the best brother I've ever had. You taught me how to ride a bike and you helped me tie my shoes and you read to me at night when I was sad because grandma wasn't there to do it anymore even though you got half the words wrong! And when I got older you taught me how to throw a punch and that I should never let anyone pressure me into doing anything I didn't want and that I shouldn't try to be like Laura just because we were sisters and that you loved me just as I was, being a brat and all! I can't believe you were walking around thinking that little of yourself when you're my favorite person in the entire world and the one I look up to and I love you so fucking much, Derek. God fucking dammit!"
Derek has no idea what to say or how to react to that, considering the dramatic sister is Laura, so he just opens his mouth and says weakly, "I'm the only brother you ever had."
Cora actually growls in frustration, and next thing he knows his chair is being tipped sideways as she throws herself at him.
The fall to the floor in a tangle of limbs, the air rushing out of Derek's lungs as he gets his arms around Cora, burying his face in her hair as she continues to cry and swear at him.
Laura slides out of her chair and to her knees, dropping her head so her forehead is resting against Derek's, her hand in his hair, her own tears falling against his cheek.
And for the second time in two days Derek finds himself surrounded by those he loves, with words like you asshole and I'm so proud of you and I love you and we'll be here for you, for whatever you need, whenever you need it echoing in his ears.
And he has to say he agrees with Cora.
Because they're certainly the best sisters he's ever had.
"I thought I'd be the one who would have to come and see you," Talia smiles softly at her son as she puts down the pen she's holding and leans back into her office chair. "But I'm glad we changed things up a bit this time around."
Derek ducks his head and tries to keep himself from wincing.
When his relationship with Kate came to an end, he couldn't really stand seeing his mother.
The guilt was too overwhelming whenever he thought about her and how it was his fault it all happened, because he was the one who brought Kate into their lives.
It took two weeks and her breaking into his apartment at five in the morning for him to speak to her, and even then they didn't really have much of a talk.
It was mostly Derek crying and apologizing, and his mother crying and telling him everything was going to be okay.
He figures it's progress that this time it only took him six days to see her, and he's the one who got in his car and drove to the Preserve.
"I'm sorry," Derek still says, because he knows she must be worried about him, especially if people have kept her updated on his mental state since Saturday,
Talia sighs, bracing her hands against the office table and pushing her chair back.
Derek stays where he is, standing by the office door, as his mother gets up and walks up to him, only to take one of his hands in hers and lead them to sit on the big leather couch by one of the office walls.
"You know better than to think you have to apologize to me for this," his mother says as they sit down. "Breaking the flower vase your Aunt gave us for Christmas when you were five deserves an apology, but taking some time to get your head on straight doesn't."
"Laura told you," Derek purses his lips together.
He means both about the vase and his realization about himself, and by the glint in his mother's eyes?
She knows.
"Yes, she did," Talia nods. "But I already knew that. Back then from the way you kept glancing away every time I said the word vase, and now because you're here and sitting in front of me."
Derek can feel the tips of his ears start to flush under his mother's gaze, and he can't help but lower his gaze again, a little bit of that guilt making itself known again.
That is until Talia grabs his chin between two fingers and forces him to look up at her and says, "You don't have to be embarrassed by that, or about any other thing you ever did or want to talk to me about. I'm your mother. I'm immune to embarrassing things after raising three children."
Derek lets out a snort at that, but finds himself relaxing a little.
He knows talking to his mother won't be as easy as talking to his friends or sisters, especially because she was the one who, aside from him, got hurt worse when the whole thing with Kate happened.
But he also knows that what he has to say will mean more to her than it meant for them, and not just because she's his mother and wants the best for him.
And again, just because he wants to talk to her, it still doesn't mean he suddenly finds the words to do so.
Like his sisters, she waits.
She doesn't say anything when he lies down on the couch and rests his head on her lap, just like he used to do when he was a kid and had a bad day at school, cupping his shoulder with a hand while the other starts running through his hair.
And just like it was easier for him to tell her what was bothering him back then, it's easier now to get his words out.
"Do you still have the number of the therapist you were seeing right after we moved back here?"
It's good that he can't see his mother's face right now, can only focus on the way her fingers never stop or hesitate to continue to move in his hair.
After his dad died, she shut down.
For three entire days, she wouldn't speak or eat or move or function.
It was like she took that time to grieve and give in to the pain and hurt and despair the death of the man she loved brought with it before acknowledging she had three kids who lost a father depending on her and a man who lost his brother needing her help, and she had to be there for them, too.
She started going to therapy three weeks after the funeral, because even though she knew she still had people to live for, it didn't make it any easier to not succumb to the weight his death had on her.
Just like when the fire happened.
Derek was too young to really understand what his mother was doing two times a week when she left them with their dad for an hour, but he knew whatever it was, it made her look a little less sad when she came home.
"I do," she says, voice steady and calm and like Derek talking about the idea of going to therapy isn't a fucking miracle. "I can call her later and ask her if she has any recommendations for other doctors in town."
Derek nods, cheek scraping against the fabric of his mother's skirt, before licking his lips and taking a deep breath and saying, "I'd like to start. Therapy, I mean. I think- I think it'll help me. With some things."
"Okay," Talia says.
And Derek is kind of stunned.
Because, okay?
Just okay?
Like Derek saying that isn't a big deal?
Like she didn't beg him to see someone after Kate, to help him with things, and he snapped and screamed and fought and told her no fucking way until she dropped the subject.
"That's it?" Derek can't help but ask, voice small. "Just okay?"
"Just okay," his mother says, bringing the hand from his shoulder to tug at his ear. "I figured if you want to explain to me why the sudden change of heart or tell me what's going on with you, you'll do so without me having to ask you about it."
Derek turns his head to look and raise an eyebrow at her, only to have his mom do the same back down at him.
He presses his lips together before sighing and turning his head back again, licking his lips as he tries to think of a way to tell her that he's maybe now just come to realize that she and the rest of their family and Derek's friends have been right all along.
And that Derek's view of himself was wrong at best, and twisted at worse.
"You know about-," Derek starts, stops, keeps going when his mom tugs at his ear again. "You know about what happened Saturday."
"Laura might have mentioned something," his mom says, voice low and soft.
Derek can't really help but roll his eyes at that, because really.
"Laura tells you everything," Derek mutters, hissing when his mom takes his earlobe between two nails and pinches him.
"No back talking your sister."
"Sorry," Derek says automatically, not meaning it one bit.
"Right," Talia huffs before poking him in the neck.
Derek figures that's his mom's way of telling him to go on.
"I didn't- I might have- If I-," Derek lets out a frustrated breath, brows furrowing and mouth thinning as he struggles to speak.
"Take your time," his mom tells him in a tone that's both commanding and understanding, and Derek does just that.
When the words come to him a few seconds later, they flow easily out of his mouth and pass his lips.
"If Laura told you about it, she told you I didn't have one of the best reactions to it," Derek says, encouraged when his mom makes a sound in the back of her throat. "And at first, after Cora drove me home, I didn't really know how to wrap my mind around everything. I was just overwhelmed, I guess, about what I thought everything meant."
Derek pauses to let himself go through what he just said, because even though he's been thinking about all of this these past few days, today is his first time saying it out loud.
And saying it out loud helps him better understand his own thoughts and reactions to everything that went on.
"And then I had a talk with Isaac," Derek continues. "He told me some things I had a hard time believing was true, not because I thought he was lying to me, but because I didn't want to risk having it all blow up in my face later. I didn't want to have hope only to be taken away from me. But what he said was enough to make me start thinking about a few things."
"It was the same thing with Boyd," Derek tells her. "He said some of the same things, and this time he really got me to thinking about all of that stuff I thought of when I talked to Isaac. He made me wonder. And he made me doubt of certain ideas I had about- About myself and who I was and what I did or didn't do."
"But it was with Erica that I started getting it," Derek says. "That I started to realize that what they were saying was true and what I was thinking was fu-"
"Language."
"-dge up," Derek wrinkles his nose. "I realized that my view of some things wasn't really right, and that it was because I was too caught up in things that had happened to me before, and not what was happening now."
Derek stays quiet for a few seconds, knowing his mom picks up on what things that had happened before means.
"And then Laura and Cora came to talk to me," Derek says, lips curling up at thinking about his sisters. "Laura confirmed some of the things Isaac said, and that had a really big impact on me deciding to come here today."
"That's good," his mom offers, and Derek can hear the smile in her voice.
"Cora screamed and called me an asshole, though," Derek pipes up.
Derek hears his mother sigh, and the hand she has on his hair disappears to undoubtedly pinch the bridge of her nose as she swears under her breath.
Derek smirks.
It's his duty as an older brother to get his sisters into trouble, and he knows this was a job well done.
But then he adds, "And she also told me I'm the best brother she's ever had."
His mother lets out a snort of her own, sounding incredibly amused when she says, "You're the only brother she's ever had."
Derek shrugs one shoulder, pressing his head back against his mother's thigh so she goes back to playing with his hair.
"I figured out a lot of things," Derek tells her. "By talking to them. About myself and- And Stiles and what happened Saturday. So I came here. To tell you about it. And so you can gloat when I tell you I think it'd be good if I started therapy."
"I don't gloat," Talia says without missing a beat, voice softening and lowering when she says, "But I am proud of you. I know it's not an easy thing for you to ask other people for help."
Derek doesn't say anything to that, because it's true.
He didn't feel worthy of help, of leaning on someone, of letting them share his worries and problems.
But things are changing now.
Or at least he wants them to change, hopes for them to change, and he knows he's the one who needs to take that first step for that to happen.
Admitting he has a problem before he goes on about how to solve it.
And that's where therapy comes in.
"Can you call your doctor now?" Derek asks, turning on his back so he can look at her.
"You sure?"
Derek nods, lowering his eyes before saying, "It's better to do it now before I change my mind."
His mother nods, understanding this really isn't an easy thing for Derek to do.
That even though it appears like he's resolved into doing this, he's basically hanging by a thread that can snap at any moment.
Talia gets her hands on his shoulders and pushes him up into a sitting position, walking back to her desk as she goes about finding her old doctor's number and calling her.
She doesn't really get a chance to when the phone rings just then, Talia leaning in to check the caller ID before answering the call.
"How's New York?" she asks, turning to Derek and mouthing Peter when he gets up from the couch to sit in one of the chairs in front of the office table.
Whatever Uncle Peter says gets his mother going perfectly still before she looks back at Derek and holds his gaze.
"Derek's actually here right now," she says, Derek's eyebrows raising in silent question. "So if you want to explain to him what you did and why you did it and who told you to do it, I can put you on speaker."
Derek gets a sinking feeling in his stomach at those words, mind going back to the time he told Stiles about Uncle Peter's thirst for information and getting his nose into other people's business.
He just hopes to hell he didn't come home earlier than planned when someone told him about what happened and went to see Stiles.
He must say yes, because his mother is pressing a button on the phone and saying, "Go ahead."
"Hello, nephew," Peter's voice comes through the speaker, and Derek doesn't know whether to be worried or not when it sounds like he's happy.
"What did you do?" Derek asks, not wasting any time.
"You're not even going to ask me how I am? I know your mother raised you with better manners than that."
Both Derek and his mom look at each other before saying, "Spill."
Peter makes a clicking sound with his tongue before sighing, "You two are no fun."
Derek scrubs a hand over his face while his mom looks skyward as if asking for strength.
"Uncle Peter," Derek says, and in a much lower voice. "Please."
His uncle is silent for a few seconds before he speaks, tone serious, "Cora called me and told me what happened."
It's Derek's turn to look upward this time, because of course she did.
"So I took the liberty of confirming whether or not what your boyfriend said to Laura about his friend was true."
Derek's entire body goes tense.
Because he believes Stiles when Laura told him he told her he had no idea who Kate was because he never knew his friend had any family.
But until now it never crossed his mind to think Stiles' friend might have been lying.
"And?" Derek asks, swallowing around the lump quickly forming in his throat.
"No thank you, Uncle Peter, for taking the time out of your busy life to do that?" Peter asks. "No oh, you didn't have to, but I'm grateful for you going through the trouble of doing it anyway? No I owe you one?"
"Peter," Talia barks, lips pinched in anger at having him him dance around the issue.
While Derek fights hard not to throw up on the floor as the certainty he had about being able to be with Stiles again, if Stiles would have him, is about to flow out the window.
"Fine," Peter says, clearing his throat. "As long as you don't ask me how I got the information that she has a brother named Christopher Argent, who currently lives in Beacon Hills with his daughter, Allison, who didn't even attend his own father's funeral a few years back, and who has had zero contact with his sister since his daughter was a teenager, I don't see why we can't go on talking about more pleasant things, like, let's say, when I'm going to meet the famous Stiles."
Derek's mind is spinning as he tries to grasp the meaning of his uncle's words, relief at knowing it's all true turning into curiosity at why the Argents don't speak to or about each other turning to gratitude at having Peter do this for him.
Even though he probably got his information through means not quite so legal under the eyes of the law.
And then his gratitude turning into horror at the idea of him and Stiles meeting.
His mom must see how fucking scared he is of this idea, because she doesn't hesitate to jump in and tell Peter that, "I think Derek and Stiles need to have a few serious conversation before Derek introduces him to you."
And that doesn't really do nothing to calm Derek down - it actually just makes it all worse -, because he does need to talk to Stiles and he is not looking forward to doing so.
"Well," Peter says. "I hope that talk happens soon. Because I have to say, I'm rather excited about finally meeting him."
Derek must still look like he's on the verge of breaking the fuck down again, because his mother only says, "And you will. But I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go now. I have an important call to make, and Derek needs to head back to the loft. Goodbye, Peter. It was nice talking to you."
Talia doesn't wait for a response before she's hanging up the phone and turning to Derek, "Do I need to get a paper bag?"
Derek blinks, shaking his head and taking a deep breath before letting out out slowly.
"I'm okay."
His mom only raises an eyebrow at him.
"I'm not okay," Derek tries again. "But I will be. I think."
Talia nods, giving him a long look before saying, "Was it because of the idea of Peter meeting him or because of me saying you two have to talk."
"Both," Derek says, and then adds, "But mostly having to talking to him."
"Okay," his mom nods again. "Okay. How about I make that call while you sit there and take your time to think about why is that?"
It's Derek's turn to nod, and as his mom smiles at him and starts looking for her old doctor's number, he realizes he's not really scared about having to see Stiles again, or about having him say he doesn't want anything more with Derek.
Those things are still a big part of it, yes, but not the one that sends Derek into almost blind panic whenever he thinks about it.
Because what really truly does?
It's Stiles taking him back.
Because Derek knows if he does, there's no way he's ever letting Stiles go.
Derek is in love with him, and that's what scares him the most.