Chapter Text
Stiles is just out of his third period and is putting his chemistry books in his locker, thinking idly about the lasagna he was going to devour at lunch, when he feels a hand roughly grip his shoulder and push him into the row of closed lockers next to his open one. It takes a few seconds for everything to click in place.
Six months. Six months since he's seen him, since anyone in Beacon Hills has seen him. Six months since the big showdown that almost got everyone killed. Six months since Derek killed the Alpha, his uncle, and then disappeared completely. Stiles had his Dad keep a line open with the other nearby stations and kept in contact with the Wildlife and Fisheries Service for questionable animal killings. Stiles kept track of several news stations and papers up and down the pacific coast, and he checked Derek's house twice a week for any signs of life.
Every week, he received no news. He was waiting for some sign of Derek even if it was all crazy Alpha-ed out. Because they would track him down, and they would bring him back. If they couldn't, then they would take him out.
Six months.
Stiles wants to punch Derek. He's had it all planned out in his head. One quick right hook to the jaw and a snarky comment about buying a damn cell phone. Stiles ends up throwing his arms around a seriously confused Derek Hale and hugging him to within an inch of his life instead. Derek stands frozen in his grasp until he relaxes enough to gives Stiles two awkward pats on the back before pulling him away.
"Dude, where the hell have you been!?"
Derek shrugs and takes the time to look around the deserted hall. It was everyone's lunch period. They are completely alone. Stiles would normally find that a bit creepy, but he is far too interested in Derek's answer.
"I need you, Allison, and Scott to meet me in the woods behind my place. I tried to call Scott, but his phone is off."
Stiles grins, "Yeah, it better be off. Mrs. Mencha would be seriously pissed if it rang in class again. This one time, his phone went off because I had texted him, and she made him wear a sombrero and sing the macarena-"
He stops talking when he sees Derek's annoyed glare. When Stiles gets excited, he rambles, but Derek seems to remember that because he rolls his eyes after a beat. Stiles grins at him again and punches his shoulder. The annoyed glare is back in full force, but Stiles ignores it.
"We can be there after practice."
Derek nods. Which is strange. Derek never compromises.
"I've got a few things to handle mostly being a wanted fugitive. I'll meet you guys around 8."
Stiles scratches at the back of his head. Derek's eyes start to narrow.
"About that."
Derek waits silently for the teen to speak.
"You're not a wanted man anymore. Scott and I talked to my dad and made sure they found the evidence they needed to point to your uncle. Mr. Argent gave a statement. But there's a lot of stuff that they you need to fill in."
Derek remains silent because he kind of knows that Stiles isn't finished yet. At least he's not rusty, Stiles thinks.
"The bank needs you to sign a bunch of crap. Something about inherited funds?"
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose for a few moments before looking back to Stiles.
"What about my car?"
A nervous laugh peels out of Stiles before he can stop it. He's slammed up against the lockers again with Derek crowding his personal space. They've done this tango before, but it still doesn't mean Stiles' heart isn't trying to escape from his chest via his throat.
"Impounded."
Derek lets him go and backs off after a moment and stares at him in confusion. Stiles snorts.
"We wouldn't let anything happen to that car."
Scott may not have made the connection first, but they both know that the Camaro was Laura's long before it was Derek's. Derek seems to be grateful if the tiny grin means anything, but his phone buzzes to life in his pocket. He pulls it out to scowl at it. He points at Stiles as he slips it back into his green jacket. Stiles has noticed the obvious lack of leather.
"You three in the clearing behind my house at 8 o'clock."
Stiles nods and watches as the werewolf starts to walk away. Stiles calls after him after making his mind up quickly.
"It's good to have you back, Derek."
He watches as tall, dark, and broody walks out of the double doors. Stiles slams his locker closed and darts off to the lunchroom to tell the others while mumbling to himself.
"Even if you still scare me, a teeny-tiny little bit."
He never notices Derek's tiny smirk as he exits the building and dodges the security cameras.