Author's Note: Thank yous are at the bottom!
Derek padded guardedly towards Stiles, giving the patch of earth where Deucalion had stood a wide berth; Stiles' was too busy staring fixedly at his hand, turning it back and forth in wonderment to notice Derek approaching. Derek crouched down beside him, in two minds about whether or not to reach out; after moment's hesitation he tentatively reached out put his hand on Stiles' shoulder, forcing himself not to flinch when Stiles' jumped at the sudden touch.
"I...I did that." Stiles murmured. "I killed him."
"He would have killed you if you hadn't." Derek said softly, squeezing Stiles' shoulder.
"I didn't think it would work."
"What was that?" Derek looked over at the scorched patch of earth, where little sparkly trails of electricity still crawled over the leaves. "Was that magic?"
"You're a fucking idiot." Stiles snapped suddenly, shrugging Derek's hand off his shoulder and jumping to his feet. Derek sighed and stood up, folding his arms across his chest and scowling at Stiles.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"What are you doing here, Stiles?"
"What am I doing here? Did you miss the part where I got dragged out here by Dickbag-alion's goons?"
"I meant here, town. Why aren't you at school?"
"You know what? Fuck you. I just fucking saved your ass. Again. Remember how we had that conversation about how you're supposed to say thank you to people who save your life? Say thank you, dickhead."
"Thanks..." Derek mumbled, scowling down at the forest floor.
"How did you not smell the wolfsbane? Your place reeks of it. Even I could smell it."
"Why were you at my loft? Why are you here?"
"I'm going home." Stiles huffed suddenly, turning on his heel and striding off towards the trees.
"Stiles! Wait." Derek called, rolling his eyes when Stiles ignored him, slipping between two trees. Derek chased after him, catching up with him easily and grabbing his arm.
"Get off me!" Stiles snapped, trying to shrug Derek off him.
"You're going the wrong way."
"Fuck off."
"At least come back to the road with me."
"Again, fuck off. I'm not going anywhere with you."
"So what, you're going to stay in the woods all night to prove a point?"
"Yes."
"You're being ridiculous."
"I'm...fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, Derek. You've got no right to tell me how I'm being. You lost that privilege when you started treating me like I wasn't fit to lick your stupid dickhead boots." Stiles yelled, wrenching his arm free from Derek's grip and turning to face him. Derek blanched slightly when he remembered what he had just watched Stiles do to Deucalion. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, wanting to offer an apology for the way he'd behaved towards Stiles but couldn't find the words and turned abruptly on his heel, walking away from him.
"Oh no, you don't get to walk away from this!" Stiles shouted at him, running after him. "You owe me a fucking explanation!"
"I didn't drag you out here." Derek huffed over his shoulder. He wasn't very proud about his feeble attempt at using reverse psychology to get Stiles to follow him back to the road but decided it was better than standing in the woods arguing.
Feeble or not, it worked, and Stiles unwittingly pursued him all the way back to the road, keeping up a running commentary of why Derek was an "idiot dickhead" the whole way. Derek pointedly ignored him; he was already more than aware of his many and varied flaws and didn't need to hear them from Stiles. The cursing and muttering subsided a little as they started trudging towards town and Derek decided it was probably safe to try and speak to Stiles again.
"So why are you in town?" Derek asked as they walked down the darkened road, Stiles kicking angrily at rocks as they went.
"My dad's sick." He muttered at last, dragging one hand through his hair. "He's...he's in the hospital."
"Is he OK?"
"He's in the hospital, what do you think?" Stiles snapped, coming to a sudden halt. Derek turned to face him, unsure of whether to take a step closer or not. Stiles was refusing to meet his questioning gaze, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he glared down at the road.
"Sorry."
"They said it's just angina." Stiles said quietly, scuffing the toe of his boot against the asphalt. "But they need to keep him in for tests. To make sure."
"How are you doing?"
"Don't pretend you even give half a fuck." Stiles replied, marching away purposefully. Derek just sighed quietly and trailed after him.
The rest of the walk back into town, all nearly two hours of it, was conducted in relative silence. Silence on Derek's behalf as he slouched along, his gaze fixed on the floor; Stiles was making disgusted little tutting noises in his throat whenever he caught sight of Derek. Derek ignored him; figuring that it wasn't worth trying to reason with Stiles when he was still so angry. He politely ignored the quiet sniffling sounds he could hear from behind him every so often, deciding that making a comment to Stiles about how he knew he was crying would not help matters.
"I'll walk back to your dad's with you if you want." Derek suggested tentatively when his building came in to view.
"Why would I want you to do that?" Stiles asked. "I didn't even want to walk back into town with you, it was just easier than going the wrong way."
"Thought you might want the company."
"You're not company, Derek. You're a fucking silent, brooding burden."
Derek lapsed into silence again as they neared his building, trying not to look over at Stiles, lest he say something he regret. It suddenly dawned on him that once they reached his loft, that would be it; Stiles would invariably head back to his dad's house and slip back off to college without a word, leaving Derek to sit around feeling sorry for himself once more.
"You look good." Derek blurted out as they came to a standstill outside his loft, silently berating himself for managing to pick one of the more inappropriate things he'd been thinking. It was true after all; Stiles had filled out since last time Derek had seen him, and it looked like he was attempting to grow a beard. He was still sporting a plaid shirt and jeans, although both were a little tighter than anything Derek had ever seen him wear in the past. Combined with the low v-neck shirt he was wearing underneath and the scuffed, brown leather boots, he vaguely reminded Derek of a guy that worked in the coffee shop in his old neighbourhood in Brooklyn; a guy he'd had a ridiculous, one sided crush on for a good six months. The mud and blood smeared all over his skin and clothes was doing absolutely nothing to stop Derek from wanting to stare at him.
"You don't get to say stuff like that to me." Stiles frowned, stepping back from Derek to lean against the wall, his arms folded defensively across his chest once more.
"I guess I don't." Derek sighed. "But then you haven't been here to say it to."
"You know what, even if I had been here, you don't get to say that sort of stuff." Stiles continued; he didn't sound angry anymore, just exhausted. "You knew. You knew how I felt about you and you just treated me like shit because of it. You told me I wasn't pack. You were...well, I can't think of a word strong enough or harsh enough to say what you were. I hated you, Derek. I still hate you."
"You hate me?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. It's complicated."
"Why did you come to here before? You said you could smell the wolfsbane." Derek asked, leaning against the wall besides Stiles all the while maintaining a cautious distance.
"I was drunk. I came by to yell at you." Stiles admitted with a shrug. "Like I said, I still kind of hate you."
"Oh."
"So are you still seeing that girl?"
"What?"
"That girl. Jenna or whatever she was called. Kind of trashy looking." Stiles said with a sneer.
"I know who you meant. And no." Derek frowned at him, fiddling with his keys in pocket. "We broke up."
"She dumped you, you mean."
"Yeah. How did you know that?"
"It was a guess. I just sort of assumed your charming personality would have shone through at some point and she'd have realised what a massive douche you actually are."
"That's not how it happened." Derek sighed. "She found out I had feelings for someone else."
"You're a robot. You're incapable of feelings."
Derek sighed again and pushed off the wall, yanking his keys out of his pocket and walking towards the door to the building. As he pulled it open he glanced over at Stiles, who was still leaning against the wall, scowling up at the apartment block across the street.
"If you say so Stiles."
"Or were you just a robot when it involved me? What if it had been Erica that liked you? Or Lydia or someone?"
"I'm not having this conversation with you on the street." Derek told him wearily. "If you want to bitch at me, you can come in and do it." He held the door open, looking expectantly at Stiles who narrowed his eyes resolutely. "You can use the shower if you want."
"Fine." Stiles sighed dramatically. "But just so we're clear, I'm only coming in because I don't want to walk through town covered in blood. I'm not coming in to appease your guilt."
Derek shrugged, stepping back to allow Stiles to pass. Another awkward silence descended on them as they rode the elevator up to Derek's floor. He snuck a glance at Stiles as he pointedly avoided eye contact in the cramped space. In the low light of the elevator he could easily see the tear tracks through the dirt on Stiles' face.
He let Stiles into the apartment, watching as Stiles glared derisively around the large open plan room.
"Still doesn't look like anyone actually lives here." Stiles grumbled. Derek gave a humourless laugh; it had been one of Stiles' favourite little things to tease him about when he'd first moved into the loft, the lack of furniture and any personal touches. Derek had argued that he didn't need things and that the loft was perfectly functional. For about a week after he'd moved in, Stiles and Erica had waged a "sneak hideous thrift store items into Derek's kitchen" campaign but this had come to an abrupt end when one of the twin alphas had attacked Stiles in the locker room at school, putting him in hospital for the best part of a month with broken ribs and a punctured lung, followed by a subsequent infection that stopped him being discharged earlier. The attack seemed to knock the wind out of Stiles' sails when it came to antagonising werewolves and he had become very subdued around the rest of the pack for a few months afterwards, as though he was expecting them to attack him at anytime as well; the thrift store item game was never restarted, but Derek still had the truly dreadful 'three wolves howling at moon' mug that Stiles had hidden in the back of the refrigerator.
"So can I use your shower now?" Stiles asked, crossing his arms and scowling at Derek, who nodded.
"It's through the bedroom."
"I remember."
Derek lifted himself up on the kitchen counter, not caring that he was still covered in filth and dirt from the woods. He kicked off his boots and drummed his fingers against the cabinet door as he listened to the shower starting up; he was aware that Stiles was muttering to himself and chose to focus his hearing on the noises of the street outside, unwilling to hear whatever angry things Stiles had to say about him.
It occurred to him as he listened to a car drive past that Stiles might want clean clothes to put on once he was done in the shower, rather than re-dressing in filthy jeans and a ripped shirt. He hopped off the counter and made his way up the spiral staircase, yanking open the dresser drawer once he reached the bedroom and pulling out a pair of clean sweats and a long sleeve t-shirt.
"You're listening to me shower?" Stiles asked in annoyance as he appeared in the doorway to Derek's en suite.
"You got a tattoo." Derek replied, aware that this wasn't really an appropriate answer to Stiles' question. Stiles looked down at his own left arm, covered from shoulder to elbow with striking black and grey designs, a few hints of teal here and there.
"And? What do you care?"
"It suits you." Derek shrugged, looking down at the clothing he was holding. "Here. I thought you might want something clean to wear."
"I'm not wearing your clothes." Stiles sneered, tightening the towel around his waist. "Who'd want to dress like you?"
"Who'd want to dress like Brooklyn circa 2009." Derek huffed in response, throwing the sweat pants he had been holding out to Stiles onto the bed.
"Fuck you. I look good."
"You look like a Williamsburg refugee." Derek shrugged, walking away towards the staircase and leaving Stiles grumbling as he picked at his mud encrusted jeans. "Get dressed. I'll drive you home."
"I'm not getting in your car."
"Fine. Walk home then." Derek snapped, finally losing patience with Stiles' griping and sarcastic comments. "I get that you're pissed at me, but tonight wasn't my fault."
"Not your fault?!" Stiles spluttered, yanking on his jeans and following Derek to the staircase. "Those fuckers dragged me out into the woods because of you. Because they're under the impression that I'm part of your stupid pack."
"But you still don't get it, do you?" Derek turned on his heel at the top of stairs; Stiles hadn't been expecting it and nearly crashed into him as he pulled on his t-shit.
"Get what?"
"Why I said you weren't pack. I was trying to keep you safe. You heard Deucalion tonight; they targeted you because they thought you were weak, because you're human."
"Don't pretend you told me to get lost out in some noble bid to protect me." Stiles scoffed. "You let Lydia and Danny be part of the pack. In case you hadn't noticed, they're both human. Why can't you just admit the real reason why you didn't want me to be here."
"Enlighten me Stiles. What was the real reason?" Derek asked in exasperation, leaning back against the railing behind him. "Because I can't think of anything else."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Stiles yelled, his hands bunching into loose fists by his sides. "You didn't kick me out of your pack to keep me safe. You kicked me out because you found out I liked you and that weirded you out. Why couldn't you have just dealt with it like a normal person? I'd have got over it eventually. But, no. You're Derek Hale, douchebag extraordinaire who has to over-react and blow everything out of proportion."
"I blow everything out of proportion?" Derek scoffed, tightening his grip on the railing until his knuckles whitened. "Because you're the model of self control and restraint. You're still holding a grudge because I didn't handle you having a crush on me as well as I could. Get over it."
"You get over it. What was so wrong with me liking you? Seriously? Couldn't you have just gone with 'Hey, Stiles, I'm not into guys' instead of essentially telling me to fuck off and die?"
Derek pursed his lips and looked away, feeling the metal railing behind him start to bend beneath his hands. "You don't know what you're talking about." He sighed at last.
"I don't know what I'm talking about? Dude, I was there! I know exactly what I'm talking about."
"I meant about guys. About me not being into guys."
"What?" Stiles looked taken aback for a second before an angry flush covered his cheeks. "Oh. Oh, well that's just perfect. So it wasn't even anything to do with me being a guy. It was just that I was so fucking unappealing as a person, right? Guess it was like an insult or something, right? Someone like me having the audacity to have a crush on someone like you?"
"For someone who's meant to be intelligent, you're incredibly stupid sometimes." Derek snapped, letting go of the railing and pushing Stiles away from him. "How is that pity party working out for you?"
"Fuck you."
"It was never about you." Derek scowled, marching over to his bed and sitting down. "It wasn't about you having feelings for me. It was about me having them for you."
"You don't have..."
"Yeah, heard you the first time. Don't have feelings. I'm a robot." Derek huffed. "Well I do...did."
"For me?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe you." Stiles told him, sliding to the floor and leaning back against the railing. "If you did, you wouldn't have treated me the way you did."
"I'm sorry."
"Not good enough. Why did you treat me like that?"
"Because you deserved better." Derek replied uncomfortably. "Better than me, I mean. You didn't deserve me treating you the way I did, but I didn't know how else to stop you having feelings for me."
"You could have tried talking to me. Telling me how you felt. Anything really, except being a gigantic prick and treating me like shit."
"I tried." Derek said as he stifled a yawn. "I tried to let tell you I wasn't interested and you didn't listen. I didn't want you wasting your life with me, putting yourself in danger because of me."
"I don't put myself in danger. Danger puts me in it." Stiles sighed, rubbing at the mud on his jeans. "Did it never occur to you that I could have made a decision about whether I wanted that or not myself?"
"I thought I was doing the right thing."
"That's the problem with you, Derek. You always think you're doing the right thing, except nine times out of ten, it turns right around and bites you in the ass."
"Don't I know it." Derek replied with a wry smile.
"It's not really just about the danger though, is it?" Stiles continued, looking down at the floorboards. "You don't seem to have a problem putting people in danger. You put all your betas in danger by turning them. What else was it?"
"You were only 17. I'm six years older than you."
"Seriously? Numbers? So what if you're older than me? I've fucked someone older than you and nothing bad happened."
"What? Who?" Derek demanded as he looked up suddenly, feeling a little annoyed at the smug smile Stiles shot him.
"Just this guy I met at a bar near school. I think he was, like thirty."
"You're 19, Stiles. What are you doing sleeping with a thirty year old? What were you even doing in a bar?"
"Having fun? I realise that's kind of an alien concept for you." Stiles shrugged lackadaisically. "What do you care who I have sex with? It's none of your business. Just like it was none of my business when you were banging trashy girl."
"Jenna."
"Whatever. Why was I too young for you and she wasn't? Wasn't she some fifteen year old high school drop out?"
"She was twenty when we got together." Derek huffed. He really wasn't interested in talking about Jenna, much less hearing Stiles make all the same old snide remarks about her. He'd liked her, sure, but their relationship had never been particularly serious; more of a rebound thing on her behalf and a 'hide from my inappropriate feelings about Stiles' on his.
"You met her at the bowling alley."
"Ice rink." Derek corrected automatically. "She worked with Boyd. And she graduated high school. She's gone away to..."
"I'm really not interested in hearing about your ex-girlfriend." Stiles interrupted, looking down at his fingernails. "I'm more interested in hearing about these feelings you supposedly had for me."
"What am I supposed to say?" Derek asked with a scowl. "I like you. Probably more than I should."
"Like as in present tense? Not as in liked, before I went to college?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's, uh, interesting."
Derek flinched, annoyed that Stiles had picked up on his use of the present tense; when he looked over at him, he saw the calculating smile on Stiles' face that always meant bad news for someone.
"Look good how?" Stiles asked.
"What?"
"Before, outside. You said I looked good. Were you just trying to be polite or do you actually think I look good?"
"I think you look good. I've always thought that." Derek shrugged. "I didn't stop thinking that just because you went away."
"So, hypothetically, if I came over there and kissed you, what would you do?"
"What?"
"You heard. Answer the question."
"I don't know what I'd do."
"Want to find out?"
Thankies and the like!
LilMissChinie - Thank you sweetie! C: x
xxSterekfan6xx - Don't be hating on Derek! There are REASONS he's being a dickbag! ;) x
vampqueen440 - Thankies C: x
zion11111 - Aww, thank you lovely! Thankfully this isn't going to be anywhere near as long as I'll Be With You Through the Dark! x
njferrell - Thanks for the review! C: Magicky stuff will be explained soon :D x