Stiles was trying to calm down. It wasn't an easy task. Knowing that Derek could hear him trying only made it worse. His hand was warm around Stiles' and it only brought the recent memories of being on top of Derek sizzling back to the surface. He wasn't sure why Derek had offered his hand but he had the distinct feeling that it meant something. It had to mean something. And what had just happened. Well. His cheeks burned and he let out a soft, depreciating laugh. He wasn't used to his hormones being so persistent. Not when he was awake at least. He'd had his share of dreams, just like anyone. And sure there were passing thoughts that maybe were a bit more distracting than others. But with Derek now… It was difficult. It felt like they were getting closer and closer and maybe they were. But Stiles wasn't sure how to adjust to that. He wasn't sure how to handle Derek. In the back of his mind Stiles wondered if these feelings hadn't been here all along. Though maybe feelings wasn't the right word for it. His feelings for Derek were different than this. Though not totally separate either. If they had been separate Stiles would have been trying to deal with all this lust, he nearly shuddered at the word, earlier. But it hadn't been a problem because Derek had been awful and actually being with Derek had been the furthest thing from his mind. But now things were different. Derek wasn't really bad at all and they were getting closer. Part of Stiles worried they weren't as close as he actually wanted them to be. But he shouldn't be thinking about that. Because that just led him right back to what he'd been trying to avoid. Sex.

They were still trekking through the trees and Stiles nearly stumbled, pulling them both to a stop.
"Okay?" Derek questioned. Stiles didn't know why he'd expected Derek to drop his hand. He hadn't.
"Y-yeah." Stiles cursed himself. "I'm fine." Derek simply looked at him and Stiles knew that Derek knew he was lying. He was only mostly lying so it really didn't even matter. Lying to Derek was so much harder than lying to his dad. It wasn't fair. "Don't we have somewhere to be?" he grumbled. Derek smiled just a bit before gesturing for him to lead the way. Stiles scowled and stepped forward, reasonably sure Derek would guide him from behind. Of course he wasn't counting on how having Derek behind him would affect him. His pulse picked up as his breath hitched. It was oddly reminiscent of the first night they'd…met. Yes. Meeting was the best way to put it. Aiden was waiting for them at the edge of the trees and it shook Stiles from his thoughts. Aiden didn't look apologetic or embarrassed, though he'd certainly heard some of what was going on. But Aiden didn't really look anything. His face was expressionless. Stiles supposed it was meant to be comforting but it had the opposite effect. All Stiles could think of was that Aiden must have learned that from his father. Couldn't upset people before the right time could you? His stomach twisted and Derek's hand dropped away suddenly. Stiles' fingers curled infinitesimally before he could stop it. He couldn't help the feeling that something bad was about to happen. All he could think about was doctors in ERs and funeral home directors.

Surely it couldn't be that bad. He tried to shake himself out of it. Derek slid around him easily and cut through the houses. Stiles followed assuming Aiden was following him. Derek shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and headed for the center of town. Stiles just kept following. He didn't want Derek going into this alone. Whatever it was. Aiden's hand pulled him to a quick stop at the start of the hall leading towards Ross' office. Stiles jerked to look at him and Aiden dropped his hand, dipping his chin slightly.
"Maybe you should wait out here," he suggested gently.
"I don't want to wait out here," Stiles shot back, taking another step forward.
"Stiles." It was enough of a command to stop him. Stiles gritted his teeth.
"You're not going to tell me what's happening are you?"
"You can wait with Mrs. Cross." Stiles winced at the name alone, sighing before finally allowing Aiden to lead him away. Mrs. Cross' desk was just around another corner, chairs conveniently placed next to it. Stiles sank to one before curling his toes in his sneakers and letting his head fall to the wall. No one commented on the sound. Aiden paced a few feet away before stopping. He was now clearly uneasy and Stiles' nerves only ratcheted higher.

It was the jerk of Aiden's head that alerted Stiles to something coming their way. He shot to his feet, nearly knocking into Derek as he rushed around the corner in a blur. Derek stopped so suddenly he grabbed either of Stiles' shoulders. Whether it was to steady himself or Stiles, Stiles wasn't sure.
"Derek," Stiles hazarded on a whisper. Derek's eyes snapped to his but didn't connect. It was like Derek didn't even see him. Stiles brought his hands up to Derek's sides, landing on his ribs. "Hey," he tried again. "What's wrong?" Derek blinked once, eyes remaining unfocused. Stiles pushed on his ribs slightly, trying to shake him. "Derek," he repeated louder.
"Nothing," Derek muttered, hands tightening before dropping off. Stiles didn't step back, feeling himself frown.
"Don't lie." Derek's lips curled, flashing his teeth. He pulled Stiles' hands away before trying to step around him. Stiles followed the movement jerkily, shoe squeaking against the linoleum. "Hey don't shut me out," he urged. "We don't have to talk about it but don't you dare shut me out." Derek growled at him then, eyes focusing for a moment much too short. For an insane moment, Stiles wished he could growl back. As it was his hand scrambled against the desk, brain following along sluggishly as he gripped a magazine in both hands and rolled it sloppily. One of Derek's eyebrows had managed to raise in challenge by the time Stiles slapped him in the face with the rolled magazine. Derek didn't move. Stiles didn't move. In fact no one moved. Stiles had the feeling that both Aiden and Mrs. Cross were staring at him in complete shock. Stiles was shocked himself.
"Did you just," Derek began, lips forming the words almost carefully, "did you really just do that?"
"Uh." Stiles didn't have anything to say. There wasn't really anything to say. The magazine was still in his hand. There were witnesses. He was screwed. Derek was going to kill him.

Derek grabbed him by the back of the neck, lips curled again, and Stiles emitted a squeak that he would not admit to even on his deathbed. Derek tore the magazine from Stiles' hand next, throwing it to the ground and pulling Stiles towards him before spinning him around and yanking him along behind as he marched towards the door. Stiles grabbed hold of the wrist at his neck, half to make sure Derek didn't decide to snap his neck like a twig. Of course by the time they made it back to Derek's house, having passed several people along the way, Stiles almost wished he had. Derek shoved through the door and threw Stiles across the room, landing him mostly on the futon. Stiles did a quick check, glad it hadn't hurt too badly. The door slammed and he flinched, afraid to look to Derek. "Okay," Stiles forced out, trying to sit up, "I had to do that something obviously happened and you can't not tell me because it's important if you-" he cut off on an alarmed little inhale as Derek shoved him back down. Derek was on the futon with him before he'd managed anything else, curling on his chest. Stiles froze perfectly, not even daring to breathe; one of Derek's arms wrapped around his stomach, hand curling around his hip. He sighed deeply, eyes closed, and Stiles finally took a small breath. It was another minute before Derek took hold of Stiles' arms and wrapped them around himself. He settled back in, arm worming under Stiles'. Stiles blinked several times.
"I have to tell you something," Derek said. The words were quiet and serious and Stiles' toes curled in his sneakers again. "But first I just-need this."
"Okay," Stiles exhaled carefully.

Stiles waited as patiently as he could, willing himself not to panic. Derek wasn't clingy like this. He'd never laid on Stiles. And after the whole magazine thing Stiles was pretty sure he was going to lose a vital part of his body. Now they were cuddling.
"Laura was my sister," Derek said so quietly Stiles tilted his head to get his ear better aligned. "And it's my fault she died." Stiles' teeth sunk into his lip and he bit down hard to keep himself from saying anything. Derek never talked about his family. Even Suzy what's her face the waitress had said that. And Derek was telling him about Laura. He had to keep his mouth shut. "There were hunters in the woods." He said it so simply that Stiles froze again. "We were out there because of me and they killed her." Stiles was still stuck on sister when his brain suddenly jumped to his first fight with Derek.
"The first time you yelled at me…you were worried about me?" There was a long silence before,
"That's what you ask me?"
"Well I suppose you've already heard that 'you couldn't have known' and 'it wasn't your fault.' Hearing from me won't help," Stiles muttered quickly, even though it wasn't what he'd been thinking.
"I just told you the worst thing I've ever done, something I've told one person before you, and you're acting like it doesn't even matter."
"Uh. You're welcome?" Derek shook his head quickly, lifting one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"You can't just-Stiles you can't just accept this."
"What am I supposed to do about it?"

Derek sat up, drawing away totally and Stiles followed him. "What am I supposed to do?" Stiles pushed. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? Am I supposed to hate you? What?"
"Something other than acceptance would be a good reaction yes."
"You just said hunters killed her and you were probably just a kid when it happened Derek. I'm not exactly ready to put the needle in your arm no."
"So you don't care at all that I got my sister killed?"
"Something terrible happened. That doesn't make it your fault."
"Why do people always say that?" Derek questioned him, mouth pinching in a thin line. "If it hadn't been for me she wouldn't have died. That's the end of it. And it doesn't matter that I didn't know or that I didn't mean it, that I would have stopped it if I could have. None of that matters. What matters is she's dead. She's gone and it's my fault. It will never not be my fault." Stiles bit his lip again and looked down to where his hands were laying limp in his lap. His fingers were half curled in the air as if they'd begun to do something and stopped too soon.
"So why are you telling me this now?" he questioned softly. "What happened?"

Derek's lips twisted shortly and he grimaced before shaking his head again.
"My uncle found me."
"Found you?"
"He wants me to come home," Derek continued.
"Oh," Stiles let out. "Is that…a good thing?" Derek didn't answer and Stiles wondered if he knew the answer. "When you say he found you…that implies that you left."
"I did," Derek said stiffly after several moments.
"You left your family?"
"It was too painful," Derek admitted, speaking carefully. "After what I did…I couldn't… There was no undoing it Stiles. There was no erasing the guilt or the blame. Of course they said it wasn't my fault but it was. It was the unspoken fact of the household. We all knew, even the little ones, we just didn't speak of it."
"But you left them…they didn't ask you to?"
"They didn't ask me to leave. They didn't ask me to stay."
"Oh." Stiles reached out slowly, giving Derek plenty of time to move away, before pulling him back down.

"I can't," Derek paused and huffed out a breath, wrapping his arms around Stiles again, "I don't know why he wants me to come back. I just…shut down. I ran." Stiles didn't comment, absorbing the information as he let his hand drift up and down Derek's back.
"Maybe they miss you," he suggested eventually.
"They shouldn't miss me."
"My dad blames himself sometimes," Stiles breathed out cautiously, "for not being able to save my mom."
"What happened to her?"
"She was sick," Stiles let his eyes close, holding on to Derek tighter, "not for very long."
"He couldn't save her," Derek murmured, "it's not his fault."
"I know. So does he. Most of the time."
"It's not the same."
"I know. But it sort of is." Derek sighed, the sound almost defeated.
"You weren't there," he said, "you didn't have to-watch," he sounded pained then, "as it happened."
"But you couldn't have saved her," he should leave it at that, he knew he should, "could you?"

Derek tensed at the challenge.
"No. Not with my uncle holding me back. They would have killed us all."
"She wouldn't have wanted you to die trying to save her Derek." Derek inhaled shakily and Stiles noticed for the first time that he was trembling.
"I know that," he whispered. "But it was my fault. I should have been the one to die." Stiles fell silent again. Derek felt dangerously close to breaking now and he was done pushing him. "Are we done talking about it now?"
"Yeah," Stiles allowed, "sure."
"Good," Derek settled against him again, "I'll be fine I just…need some time." Stiles wasn't sure he believed him but he stuck to his earlier decision and stopped arguing with him anyways.

It was a few hours before Derek lifted enough to look at him. "You hungry?" he murmured.
"Always," Stiles returned lightly.
"Guess we should make food huh?"
"If you want," Stiles returned. Derek half smiled before pushing himself up. He offered his hand to Stiles again.
"You want spaghetti?" Stiles grasped his hand, eyes widening at the offer as Derek pulled him up.
"You're cooking for me again?"
"I'm cooking," Derek corrected with another smile, smaller than the first, "you're here."
"I am," Stiles agreed easily enough. Derek yanked off his shoes and let them drop to the floor before padding into the kitchen in his socks. After a few moments, Stiles followed him.
"I'm okay," Derek told him, filling a pot with water in the sink, "Being close to you is very beneficial for me."
"The bond?"
"Yes."
"Well I'm glad it's good for something." Derek smiled again and Stiles wondered if he really was okay. He wondered if that was possible.
"Me too." Derek grabbed salt out of a cabinet, throwing a generous amount in the water. He turned to Stiles for a moment, brushing his hand on his thigh. "Thank you."
"Of course."

It felt formal and stiff. So strange considering the way they'd just been twisted together on the couch. The way they continued to edge around each other, neither willing to admit to anything, even when their bodies were drawing them closer and disproving everything their mouths tried to deny. Stiles frowned. He wasn't unwilling to admit anything. He just had to remind himself of that fact. There wasn't much room in the kitchen and every time Derek took a step Stiles felt crowded so he went back to the futon, leaving Derek to cook.
"Don't get used to this," Derek advised as he handed Stiles a plate and went back into the kitchen. Stiles couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. Derek flicked out the light in the kitchen before returning with a plate of his own and sitting carefully.
"Believe me it's still an alien sensation." Derek's knee nudged his and Stiles smiled as he pulled the fork out of his spaghetti and twirled some noodles around it.
"It would be better if I made the sauce myself but I've never had the patience for it," Derek admitted, watching him a moment.
"So do you actually like cooking?" Stiles questioned, fork dangling noodles in the air. Derek shrugged.
"I'm used to going out." It wasn't really an answer but Stiles felt questioning whether or not Derek felt like going out now would push them into a conversation they certainly didn't need to have. He focused on eating instead.

He liked Derek's spaghetti more than Shane's chili. It was a problem. Stiles knew that Derek's spaghetti had mostly come from a jar while Shane's chili probably was made from scratch. So, logically speaking, adding that Shane cooked all day every day and Derek taught kickboxing, Shane's food should be better. But it wasn't. And Stiles knew it was purely mental on his part. Because Derek didn't cook all day every day. So the fact that he cooked for Stiles…well it was pretty impressive. And semi flattering. Okay maybe it was really flattering. More than Stiles wanted to admit. Sure he said it wasn't because of Stiles but the fact remained that when Stiles had arrived the fridge and cupboards had been totally empty. Derek didn't cook for himself. That much was obvious. So it really was for Stiles and Stiles thought he liked that just a bit too much. He probably ate the last few noodles too violently, arguing with himself as he chewed.
"I'll do dishes," he announced, standing quickly and holding out a hand for Derek's plate before he looked to him. Derek had one eyebrow raised, lips quirked.
"Leave them." Stiles rolled his eyes, wiggling his hand.
"Give it."
"Leave them for tomorrow." Stiles rolled his eyes again.
"Stop being ridiculous it will take like ten minutes now give it." Derek yanked Stiles' plate out of his hand and strode into the kitchen before dropping them unceremoniously in the sink. "What was the point of that?" Stiles demanded, smacking into Derek's chest as the werewolf moved unnaturally fast to block him.
"You can't do dishes in bed," Derek told him seriously. Stiles nearly said yes I can before his brain caught up with his mouth.
"Uh okay," he let out.

Derek sighed at him, as if Stiles was being entirely uncooperative, before picking him up and slinging him over a shoulder. Stiles went limp, finally catching on. "You know, if you want cuddles, all you have to do is ask." Derek didn't answer, climbing the stairs. Stiles snickered to himself, trying to imagine Derek telling him he wanted cuddles. He had the feeling the words would never pass Derek's lips. "I'm not a blowup doll," Stiles announced as Derek dropped him to the bed with a bounce.
"What would I do with a blowup doll?" Derek questioned, shutting the door.
"I imagine you would-" he cut off, Derek's smirk giving him pause, "never mind."
"It wouldn't go very well if I had to carry the conversation." Stiles rolled his eyes yet again.
"The whole point is that you don't have to have a conversation." Derek snorted and Stiles tried to glare at him.
"I'll take your word for it."
"You aren't funny."
"You talk too much." Stiles sighed and with one last eye roll unbuttoned his jeans and wiggled out of them.
"Okay. Come cuddle." He laid back and opened his arms, surprised when Derek actually climbed into bed. He paused on his knees before tugging his shirt off. He balled it quickly and half turned, throwing it to turn off the light. "That was impressive," Stiles admitted in the darkness. Derek shifted down to him; sliding along his body and making him shiver.
"Thanks."
"No problem." His voice was too high and Stiles swallowed before taking a deep breath.
"Stiles."
"Mm?"
"Put your arms around me." Stiles obeyed, smiling as he did.

Stiles woke up choking on air, entire body rioting with the effort to wake up and the adrenaline shooting through his system. His eyes adjusted to the pre-dawn light slowly and he tried to catch his breath, Derek seated barely a foot away. Stiles' stomach was throbbing and he wasn't entirely sure why but he ignored it to slide over to Derek anyways. He leaned on his elbow, free hand reaching out to Derek's kneecap.
"Hey," he tried gently, "you okay?" Derek nodded once before actually looking to him. Stiles wasn't sure what he saw but the next second Derek was kissing him, one hand cradling the back of his neck to draw him closer. Stiles tried to move with him, one arm getting trapped between them awkwardly. It didn't even get the chance to hurt before Derek was moving him, pulling one leg over his lap and leaning into the kiss. Stiles wasn't entirely sure he was awake anymore as Derek growled softly into his mouth, one hand sliding under his shirt. Just in case he was he should say something else, make sure Derek was actually feeling okay. But words always messed them up. Talking always messed them up. And this felt so…good. It wasn't just good it was almost visceral in the way their bodies suddenly fit together. The way Derek's lips laid against his. The grip of his hands. The press of his chest. There was an annoying little thought buzzing around in the back of Stiles' mind but rather than pulling it closer to examine it he pushed it away and settled in Derek's lap before letting his hands explore.

.:.

Derek mouthed at Stiles' neck lazily and Stiles breathed out languidly. He pressed his sore lips together, tongue running over them. Derek rolled off of him eventually and Stiles smacked at him halfheartedly. Derek might have chuckled, Stiles ignored it as he was tugged to the side, the sheet pulled up and laid over his bare back. Fingertips drifted over his ribs just before Derek's arms wrapped around him. Something brushed over his eyebrow and he wrinkled his nose before choosing to ignore that as well.
"Love you," and it was just a whisper of an admission in his ear. Stiles felt vaguely uneasy with it. His lips curled nonetheless and he kept his eyes closed. Love. Love was good…right?

A/N: IF THIS SEEMS SHORT, IT SHOULD. THE FULL ENTRY IS POSTED OVER AT AO3.

VIEW IT HERE

archiveofourown dot org / works / 441012 / chapters / 801140

REMOVE THE SPACES REPLACE THE DOT AND YOU'RE GOOD TO GO.

ALSO I KNOW THIS IS ANNOYING. I'M DOING THE BEST I CAN TO FOLLOW THE RULES HERE.