Archive of Our Own

If you have the last hands that I want to hold,
Then I know I’ve got to let them go.
- Ingrid Michaelson – “Maybe”

*****

A wet sort of crunch of the leaves under his foot echoed in his ears as Derek ran through the preserve, his breath quick as he pushed himself faster, the light sprinklings of rain dampening his cheeks. He could hear his brother flanking him to the right, his uncle and father to his left. His mother and cousins were closing in from the opposite direction, doing their best to corner the rogue Alpha.

The Hale pack had been alerted from the Marshall pack in Oregon that the feral Alpha was headed their way, and they had been tracking his movements into Northern California for the last week. Finally, the werewolf had ended up in Beacon Hills, a signal of breaching territory, giving the Hales the opportunity to take him down without fear of territorial backlash.

Derek inhaled deeply, veering right as the Alpha abruptly changed path. Peter sped past them, taking the offensive position and moving to attack. Nolan was quick to follow, Derek’s father always taking the opportunity to show up his brother, no matter the circumstance. Derek could understand. Any chance he could get to rub it in Logan’s face that he was faster than his brother, Derek would jump on.

They were closing in, Talia letting out a howl to signal the pack to wait for her word, when a voice rang through the forest.

”No, dude, I know I heard something that time. That was a fucking wolf. A fucking wolf that shouldn’t even exist in California, let alone small town Beacon Hills.”

”You’re hallucina- ARGH!”

Derek tripped up at the scream for a moment before pushing himself even harder than before. There were people in the preserve. Derek cursed the rain; it always messed up the intensity of scents. Judging by the look Logan shot him, he hadn’t noticed either. They neared the clearing, and Derek could already hear the results of a fight going on between his family and the rogue. Derek retracted his claws, paused at the sidelines waiting for further instruction from his Alpha. His mother shot he and Logan a quick glance, one that easily read Don’t you dare join this before her eyes glowed red and she jumped into the attack. 

His eyes flashed blue as he watched his father's claws tear through the rogue’s chest, blood splattering through the air as the Alpha howled in pain. Peter clamped down on his neck, and Derek watched as the werewolf’s neck pulsed under Peter’s grip as it struggled to free itself. Nolan held on fiercely to the rogue’s arms as Talia faced the werewolf eye to eye. The Hale Beta’s eyes all flashed from the temptation to kill the Alpha so they too could become one. No one dared to move, but Derek kept his eyes on Peter whose fingers began to drum on the rogue’s neck. If it were going to be anyone, it would be him. 

“Alpha Thames, for your slaughter of your pack and disregard for the hunter treaty of the Southern Washington territory, it is my duty as Alpha of the Northern Californian territory to eliminate you as a threat.” Talia stared into the rogue’s eyes, searching for something she couldn’t find. With that, Peter removed his hands and Talia’s claws tore through the Alpha’s flesh, the red in his eyes glowing like fire before fading completely. 

Derek felt the shift, felt the extra power Talia had gained. His skin vibrated and his eyes flashed once more. There was absolute silence as Nolan dropped the werewolf’s arms, letting him fall to the ground. 

The silence was broken when the sound of heavy breaths could be heard from several feet away. Instantly, as if a switch had been flipped, the Hale pack turned toward the noise, remembering the humans who had been there before. They must have tried to flee when the fighting took place.

Talia led them forward through the woods, stopping with a soft gasp when they came across two figures, one laid in a fetal position on the ground, the other frozen in shock when the pack arrived. Derek scanned his eyes over the boy lying on the ground and alternating between gripping his side and trying to find a hold on the dirt below him, his hands splayed out and grasping at nothing. He was crying in agony, and Derek saw the blood pooling on his shirt over his torso.

He broke his stare at the boy and moved his focus to the other. 

He was beautiful. Not in such a way that he was necessarily pretty; his skin was marked with moles and his nose had a bit of an upturn. But his eyes shone wide like amber in the sunlight and the Cupid’s bow of his lips made Derek want to forget that his entire family was standing right beside him and just attack the boy’s mouth. He wanted to crash their lips together, bruise them red, and then pepper kisses along his jaw and neck. Derek wondered how smooth his skin would be to the touch. He looked so damn virginal, like he had never had another warm body pressed up against him, let alone another's teeth and calloused hands running along his silken skin. Forcing himself to look back up to the boy’s eyes, he became mesmerized by the way his dark lashes fanned down onto his cheeks, the pale skin beneath looking so fragile. Derek was reminded of the deer he so often saw in the forest; gentle, fragile, and so very beautiful. 

He vaguely recognized them both from school. Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall. There weren’t many people who didn’t know who the two were. Sheriff Stilinski was a pretty prominent figure in Beacon Hills, and wherever the Stilinski boy went, the McCall boy followed. 

There was a murmur of words and a shifting of bodies that brought Derek back to the situation at hand. His mother was cradling Scott’s head in her lap as she held down on his shoulders. The boy was panicking, the encompassing instinct to thrash about apparent in his eyes. Stiles hovered over the two, holding on to Scott’s hands as they breathed together. The rouge hadn’t known what it was doing. There was a fine edge between changing and killing, and Scott was teetering to either side of the fence. Stiles whispered to Scott words of encouragement flooded with hope, but his heartbeat fluttered quickly and his other hand began to twitch. 

Scott jerked his legs out, almost kicking Stiles in the back, and Logan dived to steady them. Tears began to well in Scott’s eyes, and Derek’s heart ached at the sadness that was taking over Stiles. Derek had known that Stiles’ mom died just three years before. In a town like Beacon Hills, werewolves and magic were overlooked as fairy tales, but when the local librarian suddenly was transferred to the ICU when she was meant to be going in for a routine checkup, nothing went unspoken or unnoticed. 

The seizing and deep, huffing breaths began to calm after another ten minutes. Scott’s body practically deflated as he calmed. The bite had taken. Relief washed over Talia and Stiles, the rest of the Hales relaxing at the change of mood. Stiles leaned over and planted a kiss onto Scott’s cheek, and Derek resisted the urge to be jealous. His friend almost just died. Jesus, get a grip. Scott began to blink awake, turning over as Logan released his legs. His eyes grew wide and he stumbled up out of Talia’s lap and ran to the nearest tree, vomiting and retching as his body got used to the change. It didn’t happen often, but whenever a werewolf was feral and untrained, the change was messy. Derek was never happier that he was born into it in his entire life. 

Derek refocused on Stiles who was still on his knees, breathing in slowly and massaging his hand. His eyes were closed and it looked as if this was something Stiles was accustomed to doing. He continued this routine of breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, all the while rubbing circles into his palm for another thirty seconds before deciding that he was finished. Stiles looked up and his eyes caught Derek’s. They stared at one another for a moment before Stiles gave him a half-smile. Derek did his best to return it, but in an effort to not look like he was from a mental ward with how hard he wanted to beam, he ended up with more of a grimace. Stiles didn’t seem to mind though, giving a faint chuckle before lifting himself off the ground to go over to Scott. 

“So, werewolves,” Stiles said at the same time Logan asked, “So, what does this mean for us, now?” to his mother, and Derek turned to see her response. She was their Alpha, and no matter what they individually wanted, it was her say that was final. Derek’s father, Nolan, spoke wordlessly with Talia, a rise and fall of their eyebrows and quirk of their lips speaking for them. It always amazed Derek that two people could be so in tune with one another to never need things as dangerous as words to communicate. 

“Mr. McCall,” Talia called. The two boys turned from the tree, Scott wiping his mouth as he stood straight to address her. 

“Um, yes…ma’am?” 

Talia smiled, a fondness taking over her features. “My name is Talia Hale. I’m the Alpha of the Hale Pack here in Beacon Hills. As you may or may not understand at this moment, we are werewolves. As are you, now, Mr. McCall. How old are you, sweetie?” 

“I’m 15…almost 16, though. In about three weeks,” Scott replied. He brought a hand up to move his bangs out of his eyes, grimacing at the dull pain his body was still feeling. Stiles brought his own hand up to rub at Scott’s right shoulder. 

“So young,” Talia whispered, more to herself than anything. “I’m very sorry that this happened to you, but I am here to offer my assistance. As a werewolf without an Alpha, you won’t have the proper instruction. Things are going to be very different in your life now, Scott. But we would like to help you. If you become a member of our Pack, we’ll extend to you our support as a family. You won’t have to go through this alone.” 

“Stiles would help me.” Scott spoke with full confidence, not a flutter of his heart or a look to his eyes to say any differently. Stiles would help Scott, no matter what. It was never a question. 

“Then I shall extend this offer to you, as well, Mr. Stilinski. In exchange for keeping our secret and obeying our rules as law, you will also be recognized as Pack. But I should warn you, as a human member of our Pack, you will be expected to keep up. You will live by our code of honor and you will be expected to treat me as an authority.” 

Derek’s chest began to hurt from lack of oxygen, but he didn’t dare to breathe. If Stiles agreed, he would be Pack. Pack. There was nothing, not a single thing that mattered more to Derek than Pack, and if Stiles was a part of it, Derek would never have to feel selfish or like he was betraying his family to be with Stiles. Stiles would be family.

“Well I’m game. I mean, Scott, buddy,” Stiles made eye contact with Scott, still rubbing his hand across his shoulders, “You’ve gotta do it. God knows I don’t know anything about all this.” He waved his hands around to signal the Hales, bringing them back up to imitate fangs and scratching claws. Derek and Logan simultaneously rolled their eyes as Nolan let out a chuckle. Peter, who had been quiet throughout the entire ordeal, had scoffed and let himself out of the picture, heading back toward the house. Typical Peter. Once things stopped being interesting or immediately beneficial to him, he checked out. 

Scott nodded his head continuously, as if he were still processing all of the information, but his body knew what the answer would be. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I still feel like I’m losing my freaking mind, but okay.” Stiles grabbed onto Scott’s shoulder and shook him hard, his smile taking over his features. It was infectious, how pure and genuinely happy he felt, and Derek caught himself smiling back. His mind whirled as he tried to keep up with Stiles’ excited chatter about the moon and fangs and his mild disgust and fascination at the thought of eating squirrels. 

Just as Derek was starting to understand Stiles’ babble, the boy froze and his jaw hung slack. Derek looked around to see what could have caused this reaction, seeing Logan do the same in his peripheral vision. The sound of a barely concealed snort of laughter pierced the air before Scott burst out laughing, tears pricking his eyes as he pointed at Stiles. 

“Dude, finally! Oh, my God, look at your face!” Scott continued to laugh as the blush ran up Stiles’ neck and cheeks. His eyes flicked back and forth between the two Hale brothers before he let out an “Oh, my God” before turning on an exaggerated heel and hid behind the tree. 

“What just happened?” Logan poked at Scott’s arm to get him to answer, while Derek headed over to Stiles. He could hear Scott slap Logan’s hand away and a loud “Ow!” when Logan undoubtedly slapped him back. Looking behind the tree, Derek found Stiles with his face in his hands, fingers spread for his eyes to bore into the ground. He must not have noticed Derek, because he jumped two feet into the air when Derek cleared his throat. 

“He-hey Derek,” he drew out the vowels as he tried to gain purchase on his own two feet. Stiles stretched his arm out to lean against the tree, but ended up scraping his hand down the bark. He huffed and shook out his hand, shoving his ring finger into his mouth to ease the pain of the splinter. Derek did not watch his movements. He didn’t. Instead, he stuck out his own hand. 

“I’m Derek. We go to school together.” That was good. It was simple, to the point, with no dire confessions of love. 

“He knows who you are,” Scott called. Stiles made an offended noise, his finger still in his mouth as he peeked around the tree. “What? You do! I don’t remember the last time Stiles didn’t know who,” Scott lifted his fingers into quotation marks, “the ‘perfect Hale brothers’ were. Always going on about how he wants to be Logan Hale, and just plain wants to be in Der-” 

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to be your Pack. You fucking suck.” Logan outright laughed at Stiles’ mortification. It wasn’t the first time that Derek and Logan had been akin to perfect. Logan was intelligent, handsome, and an all-around people person.  Derek had the darker, more rugged looks and had heard countless girls, and even a few boys, go on and on about how they’d like to be the one to get under his skin. They knew what the world thought of them, but hearing it from some freshman girl and hearing it being said about Stiles were two completely different ball games. Derek quirked his eyebrow to look at Stiles who sputtered before resigning himself. 

“Well as if you two don’t know. You’re Derek and Logan Hale. The whole damn Hale family is criminally good looking and you’re all so fucking charming that it’s a wonder you aren’t a family of serial killers.” His eyes widened. “You’re not all serial killers, right?” 

“Our mom just killed that Alpha. Who knows, maybe we are.” Derek’s eyes darkened as he leaned into Stiles’ space. Stiles’ heartbeat quickened, but before Derek could let up he felt a push to his chest. 

“Yeah, whatever. That was badass.  If you guys are serial killers, I might as well get on the good side of it, then.” Stiles patted Derek’s cheek with his hand before moving back over to Scott and Logan. “Alright, fun’s over. It’s almost midnight and my dad will rip me a new asshole if we are late for curfew again. Say goodbye to your new wolfy brethren Scott, and pray I don’t kill you on the way home.” His voice was sugary sweet, the malice underneath barely hiding itself. Scott nodded his head to the brothers before winding his arms around Stiles’ shoulders. 

Derek heard a low whistle behind him before he realized that he was watching Stiles walk away. It wasn’t his fault; Stiles’ jeans were just really…nice. Yeah. It wasn’t at all that Stiles’ ass was perkier than a cheerleader on caffeine pills. “You have got it bad, don’t you?” Derek narrowed his eyes at Logan, not trusting himself to speak. “Yeah, you definitely do. Uncle Peter will get a kick out of this one.” He patted Derek’s shoulder in pity, shaking his head as if Derek were a lost cause.

“Get back to the house,” Derek grumbled before heading back himself. 

*****

Derek grabbed his messenger bag in one fluid movement when the ringing of the bell signaled the end of class. He was never one to stick around school if he didn’t absolutely have to. The stench of hormones and sweat masked with chemicals hung in the air, while the incessant chatter never ceased. He moved through the hallways quickly, careful to not hit anyone on his way out of the building, more for his sake than anyone else’s. Once, in 8th grade, Derek had run straight into a girl who was almost a foot shorter than him and way under his radar. Her perfume was thick and flowery, reminding him less of an alluring woman and more of the horrors of Glade air fresheners. The scent had clung to his clothing and skin for hours, causing him to rub his skin raw to rid himself of the odor. Never again. 

He narrowed his eyes at the two students in a school of 500 who stood pushing books into their lockers. He never understood the point of them. Movies and television gave the false impression that there was even time to visit your locker, let alone that people spent most of their days in front of them. Heading toward the Auto Tech garage, Derek was finally letting himself relax. His stride slowed as he neared the back of the building when he heard a familiar voice ringing in his ear. 

”No, I swear, Scott. He always comes by the garage after school. He’ll be here.” 

”It’s creepy that you know that.”

”Oh, and your knowledge of which shampoo Allison uses isn’t creepy at all?”

”Not if she’s the one that told me about it.”

Derek rounded the corner and saw Stiles and Scott sitting up against the wall closest to the back door. Stiles was practically starfished across the floor, head propped up by his backpack, tilted up to look at Scott. Lying on the floor like that was probably disgusting, but there were definitely worse places he could have laid. He shuddered at the thought of the locker room floor. 

“Derek!” Stiles scrambled up from his resting position as Scott and Derek exchanged a quick handshake. “I didn’t- I mean, we didn’t see you all day! I thought that being part of the Pack meant that we’d actually, you know, see each other around at least.” Stiles rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, looking sheepish in a way that Derek had never seen him before. Stiles Stilinski was notorious for being a vibrant, mouthy, pain in the ass. Derek couldn’t understand why, though. Every time he’d been around Stiles, the other boy would be generally pleasant. He wasn’t mouthy, he was just clever. Derek respected that in people. 

“I guess we just missed each other throughout the day. I’m sorry about that.” Derek grinned at Stiles, and then aimed it toward Scott, needing to remind himself that there were three people there, not just the two of them. Scott was his brother, now. He was just as important as Stiles and Derek needed to show it. “Scott. Have things been alright today? ‘Cuz I know the noises and smells can be a bitch. I just wanna make sure you’re doing okay.” 

He listened as Scott went on about how loud the school bell was, how the smell of hotdogs in the cafeteria clear across the school had made him sick during Algebra, and how beautiful the trees and lawn looked outside. Truthfully, Scott sounded more like he was on acid than adjusting to werewolf senses, but Derek shrugged at it. He never had to experience a sudden change in body like that; he had no room to judge. 

Scott started explaining in graphic detail about the smell in the gymnasium, and Stiles hung off his every word like it was the key to the meaning of life. Derek gritted his jaw once before tossing an arm around Stiles’ shoulder, throwing a look to Scott as he led them out of the building. “Look, Scott. It’s great and all that you’re adjusting and finding your wolf, but you can’t talk about it so loudly in public. You never know who may be listening. That’s rule number two.” 

Scott blinked. “Well what’s rule number one?” 

Derek smirked and gripped Stiles’ opposite shoulder before letting go. “Think fast.” 

Quicker than even he thought he could move, Derek snatched Scott’s cellphone out of his hand and ran toward the crowded parking lot. If Scott wanted to find him, he’d need to use his senses. What better way to learn to differentiate than in a group full of people? Derek heard Scott growl and rush to take after him, Stiles’ laugh sending sparks up Derek’s back. God, his laugh is cute. Derek vowed to spend the rest of his life trying to make that boy laugh as much as he possibly could.

*****

And so the days continued. Derek would join Scott and Stiles after school as they waited for Logan to finish up with his Academic Decathlon practice. Derek would time Scott as he moved through the woods and found any Easter Eggs Derek left behind while he and Stiles would prop themselves against a tree and enjoy one another’s company. Stiles would talk endlessly about his day and his burning hatred for his chemistry teacher while Derek would catch up on his homework. Having Stiles around helped him focus, calming him in a way he had never felt before. 

It was a phenomenon that was happening quite often, actually. Whenever Stiles was around, it was like a weight lifted off of Derek’s chest, like he was a man starved for air and Stiles was the rush of breath he needed. He had tried to talk to his mother about it, but somehow saying that the boy from school who was now Pack that he had a crush on was the only thing that kept him from wolfing out during a particularly aggressive game of Monopoly just didn’t seem like mother-son conversation. He’d try his dad, but now that Scott was an honorary son, his little crush had to sit at the back burner. 

He didn’t resent Scott for his family’s new-found love for the boy. Actually, he mostly appreciated getting his parents off of his back about scholarships and searching for colleges along with the hours of Beta training. He was destined for Beacon Hills Community College and everyone knew it. There wasn’t a point in trying to get into some university and getting denied. Plus, he was in line for a job at Russell’s Tire Shop and Lube when he turned 18. His life was practically set. 

Derek’s sighs could be heard from space. 

In little-to-no time, the four boys were practically inseparable. Where one went, at least one other was there to follow. Logan and Scott developed a bro-crush for the ages, something Stiles would complain about during one of their many tree-side talks. Derek looked down at his lap where Stiles’ head was currently pillowed as he ranted about Scott, jabbing his finger in Derek’s thigh when the fingers that were petting through his hair paused. 

“It’s not like I’m not happy that he and Logan are so close. But it just feels like he’s choosing Logan over me! We’ve been best friends since preschool, through thick and thin, Stilinski and McCall. Now it’s Hale and McCall. Oh yeah, don’t forget that Stilinski kid.” Stiles huffed, tugging at the bottom hem of Derek’s shirt as he thought to himself. Normally, Derek would have batted anyone’s hand away if they dared to get that close to him. But with Stiles, he didn’t mind. It was actually kind of nice, comfortable in a way that he didn’t want to think too far into. 

“Do you think I’m over-thinking this?” Stiles looked up at him and Derek felt he deserved a fucking medal for his restraint to not bite that exposed neck and claim the boy right then and there. 

“I think you need to talk to Scott. I heard him talking with Logan last night about how he feels like you’re the one ditching him.”

“What! For who? I only have three friends!” 

Derek tilted his head back against the bark of the tree, looking at the timer in his free hand. Scott had two minutes left. His other hand carded through Stiles’ barely-there hair, dragging across the boy’s scalp. “For me. Can’t really blame him. We do spend a large portion of our days together.” Derek chanced a look back at Stiles, pushing Stiles’ chin up with his index finger at when his jaw dropped. 

“I- we don’t- I mean- it’s not like- Scott didn’t- Oh, God,” Stiles spluttered. Derek’s eyes squinted as he imagined hundreds of thoughts whizzing around Stiles’ mind. “That’s totally different! He knows it’s different! I can’t believe he thinks I’m ditching him!” 

Derek paused. Stiles unconsciously poked at his thigh, but Derek grabbed his hand. “How is it different?” He didn’t mean to ask, but he had to know. Was it different because he thought Scott and Logan were better friends than he and Stiles? Was it because they weren’t even on the same level? Or was it because he knew that this thing between them wasn’t something two bros just did together. Was it less or was it so much more? 

Stiles looked at their hands, brought them close to his own face. He studied the lines in their skin, the contrast of tan and pale. He opened Derek’s palm and traced the life lines. Derek could hear Scott heading back, shoulder’s sagging at the loss of the moment. “It just is,” Stiles whispered after moments of silence. And for now, that was enough for Derek. 

*****

Derek’s junior year passed by in a flurry of SAT tests and pamphlets for colleges tossed in his face from every direction. First it was his guidance counselor who urged him that, even if he went to Beacon Hills Community College, it was far better than nothing. Then his father, the Stanford alumni, felt it was his sole duty in the world to make sure his son understood the great importance of keeping the Hale men at his alma mater, like his father and his father before that. His mother would just smile and suggest he call Laura, see how she liked NYU and maybe they could live together there. 

And then there was Stiles, who pulled every single brochure there was from California to Maryland and made pro-con lists, graphs, and even a few Power Point presentations about his favorites. Derek didn’t really understand; he knew that Berkeley had always been Stiles’ dream, so why even put the effort into mapping out other schools? It wasn’t like Stiles wouldn’t get in. But he was a whirlwind, and he learned from Scott that when Stiles had a project, Hell would freeze over before he would abandon it. 

Logan and Scott raced toward the Hale house, Derek hot on their trail. He didn’t want to gloat – but who was he kidding, of course he was going to gloat – but Derek knew he was the fastest runner, always one step ahead of Laura and leaving Logan in the dust. Scott needed to build up stamina, and the only way to get someone to do something was to scare it out of them. At least, that’s how Derek always saw it. 

With a final burst of speed, Derek sprinted passed by his brothers and smacked the patio deck with his hand. “Ooh, too bad guys. Looks like I win again. Hey, maybe next time we can actually race instead of jogging for ten miles.” Derek smirked at Logan’s glare. Scott, on the other hand, collapsed to the ground with a whine. 

“This werewolf stuff sucks! I thought running was supposed to get easier!” he said through panting breaths. The truth was that Scott was getting much better. He was learning to control his speed and not expend it all in the first few miles. But no one improved if they felt like they were doing everything right. 

“Well, until you can beat me, keep working at it.” Derek kicked the side of Scott’s shoe and turned to head into the house. He needed a shower and about 50 bowls of cereal. Pulling off his shoes, he kissed the top of his mother’s head from where she sat on the couch then headed up the stairs. Halfway up, though, he paused. He took a deep breath and smiled. Stiles was here. 

Ever since they became Pack, Stiles and Scott were given their own rooms. They didn’t use them often, both preferring to be at their own homes at night, but they were there if needed. For Scott, it was where he liked to stay on nights with a full moon. He liked the safety of having his Pack around, even if that meant Peter lurking around. For Stiles, it meant a place where he could keep his research and paraphernalia of anything supernatural without fear of his dad thinking he had joined a cult. 

Derek knocked on the door lightly, hearing Stiles mumble “come in” before he opened the door. There were papers and poster boards all over the floor and the top of his bed, each of them with more words highlighted than not. The sea of fluorescent greens and yellows and pinks were abrasive, but the smile plastered on Stiles’ face confused him. “Uhh, hey? What’s all this?” 

Stiles stuck his finger in the air, signaling for Derek to wait. He scribbled down notes and straightened three piles of paper and stuffed them into folders. He uncapped a Sharpie harshly with his teeth, toying the cap around with his tongue as he wrote. It’s just a pen cap for Christ’s sake, it should not be that entrancing! He spit the cap into the air and caught it, capping the Sharpie and standing from his cross-legged position of the floor. 

“Here,” he beamed, pushing the three folders into Derek’s hands, his eyes expectant and wide. 

“What is it?” 

Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed a folder from him. “They’re the top three colleges that I think would be best for you. One of them is in Colorado, so that might be a bit of a stretch, and I won’t lie, the other one is NYU. I think it would be good for you to be with Laura in a big city. Get it out of your system now and whatnot. The third one is in Sacramento and is my personal favorite. You’ll be close to home but you won’t be stuck at some half-ass excuse for a school like BHCC. “

“Stiles-“

“And it’s in Sacramento County which is like a two hour drive away from Berkeley. So maybe, if I can convince Scott to go there, too, and if Logan goes to Stanford, it won’t be too bad. You’ll be close to family and we’ll all get to go where we want. It’s a four-way win.” 

“Stiles-“

“But if you want to go to the other two, or any other college, it’s completely cool with me, you know? I just want those four years of your life to be smooth sailing and maybe I went a little overboard because, really, who goes to school in Rhode Island? But I just wanted to help because you’re my best friend and this is a really important step in your life and-“

“Stiles! Stop!” Derek tossed the folders onto the bed and grabbed at Stiles’ shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes. “Thank you, for all of this. It means so much to me that you wanted to put all this effort into finding a college for me. But, Stiles, I’m not going to college.” 

Maybe that wasn’t the best way for Derek to break the news, because suddenly Stiles’ eyes grew and his heartbeat rose. “What do you mean you aren’t going to college? Are you insane?! You have to!” 

“I don’t have to do anything. College was always a Laura and Logan thing, never mine. My GPA sucks and I have no desire to sit in a classroom for another four years listening to lectures about things I don’t care about. It’s Logan who is meant to do all that fantastic, life-changing shit in college. It’s Laura who is meant to will the world into her image from her wit. And it’s me who is meant to stay here with my parents and work. I’m the family fuck-up, Stiles. All I know is Beta training and fixing cars, and last time I checked, you don’t need a college degree to fix an engine in a Sedan. Why waste money and time?” 

Stiles’ eyes narrowed slightly, the line of his brow creasing from his thoughts. Derek’s voice had raised and he could hear his family stirring downstairs. The silence was deafening and Derek had to tear his eyes away from Stiles before he saw the disappointment there. The same look he got from his parents when he brought home another D on an essay. The same look Laura used to give him when he would skip classes his freshman year in favor of taking a run through the woods. But seeing that look on Stiles’ face, of all people…he would never be able to rid it from his mind. He walked over to the bed, pushing the papers out of the way, feeling Stiles’ presence as he stood before him. He felt the boy’s hand run through his hair, and let himself lean into the touch. “You really think that little of yourself?” It was barely a whisper, but Derek heard it loud and clear.  The confusion turned into pity.

He grabbed at Stiles’ wrist, yanking it away from himself. He moved to stand but Stiles pushed him down, using his whole weight to keep him there. “Derek, stop. Please. I just want to understand.”

“Understand what?” Derek’s eyes flashed blue as he finally looked at Stiles. He saw the worry in the lines of his forehead, and that just made him angrier. He could feel his teeth elongating into fangs, his nails turning into claws. “There’s nothing to understand. And looking at me like you pity me isn’t doing shit, FYI.” 

“I don’t pity you, Derek. I’m confused. I’m outraged. But I don’t pity you. Maybe if I really thought you were right. Maybe if I thought you were some fucking charity case, like if I just got this one wayward kid into college, then my karma would be set for life. But no, I know you can get into college. I believe it with everything that I am that you are so much more than a washed up townie. You can do or have anything you want if you want it hard enough.” 

“You should quit school and go work for Hallmark,” Derek muttered, completely not pouting. 

Stiles tipped his head back and let out laugh. He reached out for Derek’s hands, now claw-free, holding them to his chest. “Please don’t give up on yourself. At least consider the schools, read the notes I’ve made, and pretend to appreciate the three page long pro-con list I made for each one.” 

Those amber eyes, the ones that first caught Derek’s attention almost a year ago, stared at him like they knew something he didn’t. Like Stiles knew, deep down to his core, everything that Derek was and could be. He let out a long sigh. “Fine. I’ll read all this stuff and think about it. Really think about it. I promise.” The tight hug and the collective sighs of relief from his family downstairs were enough motivation. 

*****

“Okay, your hair is perfect, your teeth are flossed, and your face is cleanly shaven. I think you’re ready to take your picture now.” Talia licked her finger and wiped a non-existent smudge off of Derek’s face. She had spent all morning bossing Derek in and out of the bathroom, making sure he looked perfect. Senior pictures were very important to her, but unlike Laura, Derek didn’t want to spend five hours in front of a mirror for a stupid photo.

“Mom, please, stop it. It’s just a picture. I go in, the camera snaps, and I leave. End of story.” 

“Oh Derek, you don’t understand now, but you will when you have kids. Now shut up. Did you remember to put in your contacts? The last thing we need is for there to be a glare in all of the photos.” 

“Oh, God, how could I forget? You only reminded me a hundred times this morning. Stop worrying, everything is fine. Can we just go?” 

Talia paused and gritted her teeth before tossing a look that could only mean ‘you’ll regret that, young man’ over her shoulder, grabbing her keys and walking off to the car. Derek rolled his eyes and followed her, whipping out his phone in an attempt to have something to do. He flicked through his text messages, re-reading the text he had gotten from Stiles that morning. 

From: Stiles Stilinski (9:27 am)
Smile pretty! Not that I need to tell you that. I’m sure you’ll look as gorgeous as ever ;)

He locked that message. Normally, being called anything like handsome or gorgeous or pretty made him feel uncomfortable. But coming from Stiles, well, he could see why girls found it so appealing. 

Taking the photo was just as Derek expected, quick and relatively painless. He had to slip on a half-tuxedo over his tank top, smile small, bigger, and “even bigger!” He refused to stand in front of the tacky ivy wall, though. He wasn’t about to let there be copies of that anywhere in existence. 

He sat down on the faux-comfort couch, waiting for his mom to order enough copies of the photo that he’d be able to wallpaper the living room with them. He understood that they were a big family, but he highly doubted that his second cousin in Podunk, Connecticut really needed a wallet size and two photo frames. Maybe Stiles would want one. Not a full sized 8” x 11” but maybe a wallet size or a maybe just the sample size. Or maybe that was completely creepy and egotistical of Derek to think Stiles would even want one at all.

Just then, his phone rang. Speak of the Devil and the Devil shall appear. 

“Hey Stiles,” he answered.

“Derek! How did the pictures go?” 

“You and my mother, I swear. They’re just pictures, it’s not like I haven’t taken one before.” 

“Hey man, when I’m at Berkeley and people ask me about my friends, I want to be able to show them pictures to make them jealous. If you’re half blinking or like, mid-sneeze, that’s not going to impress them. I was blessed with beautiful friends and the world needs to know it.” 

Derek felt his muscles across his chest tighten. “You, uh, want a picture of me?” 

“Well duh, I asked your mom to order me one like two weeks ago. Unless – oh, shit, is that weird? I just thought that since you’re like my best friend it’d be cool but, ugh, I should have asked you first because, like, what if you didn’t want some crazy person walking around with your photo in their wallet showing it off to strangers. Shit, this is way creepier than I thought. I’m sorry, it’s cool. I’ll just see it in the yearbook or something.”

He gets so cute when he’s rambling. You are so cute.

“Hey, no, it’s fine. I was just surprised, that’s all. I mean, you know I’m not that up-to-date with the friend protocol. If you want to carry a picture of my face around then that’s…cool.”

There was a pause over the line, a silence that seemed more comfortable than awkward. “So, listen, since you’re near the school, anyway, why don’t I come pick you up? We can go get smoothies or something. Or if you’re busy that’s okay-“

“I’d love to. I’ll let my mom know. See you in like, ten minutes?” Derek smiled when he heard a thump from the other side of the phone, picturing Stiles shooting up from his chair fast enough to knock it over.

“Yup, see you!” The line went dead and Derek shoved the phone back into his pocket. His mom was practically leaning over the counter to look at the photographer’s computer, pointing at the screen and rattling off sizes and numbers. 

From his seat, he spoke to his mother. “Hey, mom, I’m going to hang out with Stiles. I’ll be home later tonight.” She gave a noncommittal wave of her hand, a mild acknowledgment, and kept arguing with the sales representative. Derek had never met a man strong enough to argue with Talia Hale about prices and win, even ones that were set in stone. 

Eight minutes later, he heard more than saw the jeep turning the corner, and he lifted his arm to shield the sun from his eyes. Stiles stopped in front of him and popped the door open. He seemed to do a double take, his arm still stretched out across the seat from how he leaned over to unlock the door. His mouth was hanging open slightly, and he seemed frozen. Derek chanced a look down at himself, tugging at his tank top then looking back at Stiles who seemed to shake himself from whatever was running through his mind. He leaned back upright into his seat with a muttered, “God that just isn’t fair.” 

Derek blinked a few times before sliding himself into the jeep. Stiles was being weird, but seemed to have brushed it off just as soon as it started. “So! I was thinking we could get smoothies first and then head over to my house. It’s too hot to be outside today, and I’ve actually got something to show you.” 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to do.” 

Stiles smiled as he put the car into gear. They picked up their drinks, Stiles complaining about Derek’s boring strawberry and Derek almost gagging at Stiles’ mix of chocolate and papaya. The ride back to the Stilinski’s was more comfortable after that, whatever initial weirdness had been there, gone. He liked the Stilinski home. It smelled familiar and lived in, with a mix of liquor and aftershave that could only be John, and an earthy sweetness that Derek associated with Stiles. 

“Come on, I’ve got it in my room.” Stiles kicked his shoes off, letting them fly in random directions, and bustled up the stairs. Derek calmly pulled his off and collected Stiles’ before following him up. “So, last night, I was going through the attic because I was looking for some old pictures of my mom and dad from when they were in high school, and I found something.” Stiles pulled a large box from under his bed and sat on the floor. Derek sighed but sat down with him, looking at the box with interest. 

“My mom, when I was younger, was really into crafting, which is probably where I get my eccentric love for projects from. She went through a lot of phases, like scrap-booking to painting, to sewing, to jewelry. She tossed most of the stuff out once she was done with the craze, only keeping things she actually thought were good.” Stiles opened the lid of the box, revealing various knickknacks and photo albums. He set the box down and started grabbing at the stuff inside, motioning for Derek to do the same. 

He sorted through crocheted pot holders and origami animals before something caught his eye. It was a ring, large enough that it was obvious it was meant for a man’s hand, made from brass and wrapped in gray yarn. It wasn’t anything magnificent, but Derek couldn’t help but like it. 

“What’d you find?” Stiles asked, nudging at Derek’s knee with his toes. 

“A ring. It’s pretty cool, actually.” He slid it onto his right ring finger, the corners of his mouth turning up when it fit. 

“Dude, that’s fate. You’ve gotta keep it.” Derek looked up in shock, pulling the ring off. 

“No, no, I can’t take this. It’s yours. You wear it.” 

Stiles laughed and pushed Derek’s outreached hand out of his face. “It’s not like it would fit me. My knuckles are too small. The ring was like, made for you, like my mom just knew. Keep it as a good luck charm or something.” Derek let his hand drop, twisting the ring between his forefinger and thumb. He slid it back on and made a few fists with his hand. 

“Thanks Mrs. Stilinski,” he muttered as he stared down at his hand, missing the way Stiles’ eyes grew watery and the smile that tugged at his lips. 

*****

For some Godforsaken reason, people started to believe that, because Derek was finally a senior, he would suddenly want to take part in school activities. First there were invites to a carnival at the school meant only for the seniors to bring in the new school year. Then there were the suggestions that he come to the Homecoming football game and rush the field with all the other seniors at Halftime. Then, possibly worst of all, there were the not-so-subtle hints from the girls in his class for him to ask them to the Homecoming dance. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that he’d go to a school dance, especially with some girl he didn’t even know. Scott was going with Allison, and Logan had a date with a girl named Mariah. So instead, Derek went over to Stiles’ house and ate pizza and watched movies on the couch. 

Along with Senior Year came applications for college. Early admission came and went, and the deadline creeped closer. The application for Sac State and BHCC collected dust under his desk where he pushed them out of sight and out of mind. If he missed the deadline, it’d be another semester or even another year before he had to think about admissions again. By then, Laura would be graduating, Scott and Stiles would be too focused on their own entrance to college, and Logan would be stressing out about the SATs. No one would spare a second glance at Derek. 

It was an unseasonably warm afternoon in November, and Derek decided to spend it by himself to catch up on the novels his dad had lent him. He really should have known that when the afternoons at the Hale house were quiet, it meant all Hell was about to break loose. He should have known, but instead he chose to let it relax him. Page 263 of his book was caught between his index finger and thumb as he rubbed the paper. Derek was just about to flip the page when he heard Stiles’ outraged shout from outside of the house. The front door burst open and people in Los Angeles would have been able to hear the following yell. 

“Derek Anthony Hale! Get your butt down here this minute!” Derek rolled his eyes and set his book down. He barely made it down the steps when he was assaulted, Stiles whacking him with a newspaper as he took the last steps down. 

“Woah, what the hell, Stiles?” Another hit. “Argh, quit it!” Derek snatched it out of his hand. “A rolled up newspaper? Really, Stiles?” 

“I’ll admit the joke may not have been worth it, but hey, shut it! I’m the one who’s angry. Logan just told me that he found your college applications under your desk, unfilled and crumpled. What happened to Sacramento State? Not even BHCC, Derek? We studied those pamphlets for hours, what happened?” Derek rolled his shoulders and moved Stiles out of his way. 

“Life happened. I’m going one way and college is the other. Leaving Beacon Hills is for people like Laura. Like Logan. Like you. But I’m meant to be here, working the night shift at some garage. I don’t need a degree for that.” 

“That again? Why do you keep selling yourself short when there is a whole world out there for you?” Derek growled and grabbed a throw pillow, chucking it at the wall.

“Because I’m scared! I’m fucking terrified and you standing there, telling me it’s alright is just making it worse! What if I don’t get in, huh? What if I try and Sac State tells me I’m unqualified?” Derek seethed, pacing back and forth. “I’ll have to admit to my parents out loud that their son was too stupid to get into college. I’ll have to tell Laura and Logan that their brother is just one step away from a County jail. And you! All of your research and belief in me will be for nothing!” Just like that, all of the energy was lost from his body and he slumped down onto the couch. “I just…I can’t, Stiles.”

“What if you get in? What if the school looks at the fact that you got a 1600 on your SAT and realizes that it’s not you, it’s this stupid school system that’s messed up? What if you find out that there is a degree out there that you have a passion for, and suddenly the whole world will have opened up and everything slots into place? What if you could have the best experience of your life but you were too scared to even try? You need to listen to me. I know that you love being Mr. Growly-pants, but just this once, please listen to me.” Stiles sat beside Derek on the couch, angling his body toward Derek so that Derek had no choice but to look at him. “I’m not going to let you fail. So what if Sac State denies you, BHCC is still a school. And, yes, I know I said it wasn’t good enough, but dropping out without even giving college a chance is so much worse. Just – how about this? If you go one year at college and decide that it isn’t for you, then I will respect your choices. But you have to get through the entire year.”

Derek bit the inside of his cheek. His mind kept screaming “No!” at him, everything in his body telling him that he shouldn’t do this. That he shouldn’t set himself up for disappointment. But looking at Stiles, looking into those eyes that he fell in love with, the ones that belonged to a boy that made him understand what friendship and love really was, and he knew there wasn’t any other option. He sighed, “I’ll go get the papers. Can you help me fill them out?”

On April 16th Derek checked the mail and saw the big envelope from Beacon Hills Community College, next to the big envelope from California State University, Sacramento.

*****

“Derek! Hey!” Scott called out to him outside of the cafeteria. “What are your plans for prom? Because Allison is planning on renting a limo with her friend Lydia and they wanted to know if you wanted in also. I’m pretty sure Stiles will want to pitch in, so you’re the only one left to ask since Logan can’t go.”

Stiles is pitching in? Shit.

He glanced behind Scott and saw Stiles with a group of friends. There was one girl in particular that Stiles had his arm draped over. She was pretty, blonde, but homely in a way. Derek had heard that she sometimes had seizures, but that was the extent of his knowledge. But the way she looked at Stiles, well, it was a look Derek knew all too well.

“I’m not going to prom, but thanks anyway. You and Allison have fun. Stiles and his date should have fun, too. I’ve gotta go.”

Scott got that look on his face, like a confused puppy. “Wait, Stiles’ date? But I thought you-“

“Look, Scott, I need to go. See you.” Derek turned and left. He really didn’t need to hear about Stiles or whatever mystery girl or guy he was going with. He was planning on asking Stiles, but obviously the flirting and bond they had together was all in his mind. Stiles had a date with someone who he probably had wanted to ask out for weeks. He probably told Scott all about them, and figured there wasn’t a point in relaying it all to Derek. Whatever, it’s not like Derek had staked his claim on Stiles or anything. He could date whoever he wanted.

Kicking a locker and making a freshman almost piss himself from the shock was cathartic enough.

To say that he was avoiding Stiles was an overstatement. He was merely making sure he was never within 30 feet of the boy and always maintained a three person distance when he didn’t have a choice. And if he pressed ignore on the calls and deleted the messages before reading them, that wasn’t anyone’s business but his.

It was midnight, and Derek was walking back to his bedroom from the bathroom when he sensed him. Opening his bedroom door slowly, Derek saw Stiles sitting at the foot of Derek’s bed, his jaw tense and radiating anger. He pushed the door open completely and crossed his arms. Stiles’ eyes shot open then narrowed into a scowl. “Did I do something to you? Because the last time I checked, not answering 50 phone calls and turning the corner any time you see me either means you’re mad at me, or you’re just a dick, and, honestly, the latter is the more reasonable of the two.”

Derek growled in warning, standing his ground at the door. “Yeah, I’m the one who’s a dick,” he muttered more to himself, but by the way the muscles in Stiles’ eyebrow twitched, he knew the other boy heard him. “What are you even doing here, Stiles? Shouldn’t you be spending your time with your best friend Scott? Or maybe, here’s a thought, spending it with your girlfriend?” Flashes of long blonde hair and large breasts flashed in his mind and he had to squeeze his arms tighter to his person so that his claws wouldn’t extend.

Stiles sucked in a breath and coughed, his eyes watering from the choking sensation. “What are you even talking about?” he barely managed to say, clearing his throat. Derek rolled his eyes and moved over to his desk, handing Stiles a bottle of water. He watched him gulp it down and almost whimpered at the sight. The long expanse of his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed should have been illegal. Derek could feel his pants tightening as he stared, cursing his body’s betrayal of his anger.

Stiles exaggerated a gasp as he finished off the bottle, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth. Stop that. If you keep touching your face I’m going to have to jump you.

“First of all,” Stiles stuck a finger up in the air, “you are my best friend, and second,” another finger in the air, “what girlfriend? Did I miss some kind of memo?”

“Just, stop, Stiles. Scott already told me about your date to prom. And I saw you with that blonde girl who I have to assume is your girlfriend by the way she kept looking at you like all you were missing was some spandex and a cape. Look,” Derek sat down on the bed motioning for Stiles to sit beside him, “I’m sorry that I was avoiding you. But I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me. You say I’m your best friend, but omitting something like that doesn’t really make me feel like it. Did you not trust me enough to tell me about her?”

Stiles grabbed Derek’s right hand, running his thumb over the ring Derek still wore. “Der, I need you to listen to me carefully. I don’t have a girlfriend. That was just Erica who’s been one of my best friends since elementary school. She has a crush on me, but she knows I don’t feel the same. And if I did, I promise I would have told you. You are well and truly my best friend and I would never keep something like that a secret from you or anything like that for that matter.”

Derek stared at the side of Stiles’ face, eyes drawing back and forth between his lips and the moles that dotted his skin to the line of his nose. “Scott told me you were going to prom, though. I just figured…”

“Yeah, I’m going. But I’m going stag. I was kinda hoping that someone would ask me, but it’s tomorrow. And no matter what television and movies try to tell you, one day’s notice isn’t enough.”

“Stiles.” Derek spoke his name softly, barely a whisper. He wanted to take the boy’s face in his hands, press a kiss to his lips and tell him to screw the time limit. To Hell with being best friends, they needed to be more. But something stopped him. What if Stiles freaked out? What if he pushed Derek away with those wide eyes and ran from him?

Derek didn’t think he could bare it.

Instead, he rubbed his hands through Stiles’ growing hair, a smile playing at his lips. “Well, then you need to go there, in all your single glory, and dazzle the fuck out of them like you dazzle me. And when all of those girls are standing along the sidelines praying for a dance, they’ll all be tackling each other to get to you. Also, don’t forget to send me pictures,” he said with a wink.

Stiles gave him a small smile before he gave him a smirk. “You think I’m dazzling?”

“Yup. Now shut up and go back to your own room.”

“You think I’m dazzling! You think I’m dazzling and spectacular and awesome and fantastic and-“

“Yeah yeah, humble, too, apparently.” Derek pushed Stiles out of his room and heard him whispering as he walked down the hall.

”And brilliant and hilarious and lovely and inspiring and-“

Derek shook his head, smile fading as his shoulders slumped. He let out an Oscar-worthy sigh as he turned toward his bed, flopping down stomach first onto his bed. “’M serch ‘n ijiot,” he moaned, muffled through his pillow. Of course Derek overreacted. Of course he could have just asked Stiles two weeks ago like he planned to do. But no, Derek had to be stubborn and over think and miss his shot.

In hindsight, Derek now realized he really could have just bought a last minute ticket, but his thought processes just weren’t up to par. Instead, he suffered through a fitful night of sleep, barely reaching REM around 5 AM. He groaned and awoke passed noon, staring up at the stucco ceiling like it had just smack talked his mother then turned around and kicked his puppy (one that he didn’t actually have, but was kicked nonetheless.)

He absently spun the ring on his finger, a habit he gained from wearing it every day. It was the one Stiles’ mother had made, and he never took it off, except when he showered or swam. It was just another part of his daily outfits; underwear, shirt, pants, socks, shoes, ring. The gray yarn was fraying slightly from constant use, the color beginning to fade. Still, he wore it all the time.

Finally stumbling out of bed, he trudged his way down the stairs, pointedly ignoring Peter’s raised eyebrow and sat himself down at the dining table, bowl of cereal and milk in hand. He poked at the marshmallows that floated in the milk, taunting him with their bright and cheery colors, the food coloring blending into the white of the milk.

“Don’t look so happy to be alive, nephew. Your joy is practically stifling me.” Peter sat across from him, cradling his face in his hands as he leered. Derek shot him a glare, but the effect was lost from the way half of his hair was pushed up to the side from sleep and the spoonful of Lucky Charms halfway to his mouth.

“Loosen up. Isn’t the school’s prom tonight? Why aren’t you bustling around to get ready?” Peter questioned.

“’m not going,” Derek said around the mouthful of cereal, using his spoon to stab at the remaining pieces. Peter hummed in response, eying him up and down.

“Pity. I would have paid a great deal of money to see you in a powder blue tux,” he sighed, leaving the table to leave Derek to his own wallowing. Derek grimaced, feeling the buzz of his phone in his pocket. He unlocked the screen, finding three texts and a missed phone call.

From: Stiles Stilinski (10:42 am)
Is it wrong for me to want the whole “pre-prom” ritual? Where was it written that guys can’t get their hair done and pamper themselves?

From: Stiles Stilinski (11:17 am)
Decided against it. Too lazy for that shit.

From: Stiles Stilinski (11:55 am)
Dude are you still asleep? WAKE UP AND PAY ATTENTION TO ME

That was followed by the missed call, also from Stiles. Thumbing through the menu options, Derek pressed call, the line ringing only once before Stiles answered. “Dude, what are you, a zombie? It’s like almost 1 pm!”

“Err, yeah. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Stiles scoffed. “When did you leave?”

“Around 9. I was going to say goodbye but you were practically dead to the world. Then there was something about letting sleeping wolves lie and, yeah.”

“I’m not an actual wolf, Stiles,” Derek argued.

“Close enough. Anyway, now that you’re up, can you come over and keep me company while I get ready? Scott said they’re picking me up at like 3 so I’ve got a couple hours. Please?” he begged.

“Yeah! Uh, I mean, sure, yeah, I’ll come over.” Way to sound eager, idiot. Derek ran his fingers through his hair and winced at the disarray. “Give me like 20 minutes.”

Derek took the quickest shower of his life, throwing on clothes and looking around before scooping up Peter’s car keys. He drove up to the Stilinski house, happy to see that the Sheriff was home. He hadn’t seen Stiles’ dad in a while, and it’d be nice to catch up. He knocked on the door and waited for the tell-tale sounds of Stiles stumbling down the stairs before swinging the door open wide.

“You know, I really hate that you knock. Can’t you just, I dunno, use your super werewolf gymnastic skills and climb in through my window or something? It would save me a lot of trouble.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” Derek said as he moved Stiles aside and walked into the house. “Hey, Mr. Stilinski,” he called and the Sheriff shook his head.

“Kid, I told you. John or Sheriff. None of that Mister crap.”

“Sorry, John. How are you?” 

“Bored. Nothing ever happens in this damn town worth getting excited over. Don’t get me wrong, as the Sheriff I’m ecstatic that Beacon Hills is so quiet. But as a middle aged man, I just wish there were some damn scandals or something.” 

Behind him, Stiles was pantomiming what looked like claws scratching at the air as he let out an “Aroo” as he teased. Derek glared and John looked at his son like he grew two heads. 

“Okay, enough of the chit-chat. Stop being friends with each other it’s weird,” Stiles commented as he headed up the stairs, fully expecting for Derek to follow him. Derek gave an apologetic look to John before following Stiles up to his room. 

Stiles was rummaging through his closet, so Derek made himself comfortable on the bed, pulling out his phone. 

From: Uncle Peter (1:34 pm)
Did you take my car?

To: Uncle Peter (1:47 pm)
Yup.
I’ll be home by 5 though. You’ll be fine until then.

From: Uncle Peter (1:47 pm)
I could have had somewhere to be.

To: Uncle Peter (1:47 pm)
All you ever do is hang out at our house. I took my chances

From: Uncle Peter (1:48pm)
smart ass

“Okay, which tie? Should I go with the simple blue and risk matching about half of the guys at prom, or neon green and risk looking like an idiot?” 

Derek looked up briefly before returning his attention to his phone. “Green. Might as well, right?” 

Stiles stuck out his bottom lip in thought then threw the tie onto the bed, hanging the blue on back in the closet. “Okay, but what about socks, then? Because I totally have a pair of green socks that match the tie.”

“Overkill. Go with black.” He locked his phone and tossed it onto the bed. “Why does it matter, anyway? You're going to look great either way so why bother with the fuss?”

“Well unlike some people, I don't just get to walk around in a tank top and look like I just stepped out of a J-Crew photo shoot. I gotta work for all this,” Stiles said, gesturing to his body.

“Whatever. I don't look like I stepped out of a J-Crew anything.”

“Tsk tsk, Derek. Conceited and falsely humble aren't a good look on you,” Stiles reprimanded with a slick smile. He pulled his slacks on, the steel gray pants hugging his ass in all the right places. Derek wasn't staring, even if he totally was. He watched as Stiles went through the motions of dressing, his throat going dry as Stiles' strong hands fiddled with his tie. He sighed and stood, swatting Stiles' hands to fix the knot himself.

“I don't see what the big deal is. You go, you eat, you dance, you leave.” He adjusted the tie and slid the knot up to secure it in place, realizing too late that it meant he was face to face with Stiles. He unconsciously counted the moles that were scattered along his cheeks and neck, paying particularly close attention to the two dotted by the corners of his lips. He blinked quickly and stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, well that's the thing, isn't it. Prom is kind of a big deal. Even though I'm going alone, I still want it to be special. But God knows I'm going to end up asking some girl to dance and end up trampling all over her feet.”

“I'm sure you wo – okay, no. I won't lie, you might. Okay, here, c'mon.” Derek moved closer again, raising his hand in the air and gesturing for Stiles to take it before wrapping his other hand along his waist. “Just breathe and try not to concentrate too hard. Follow with me. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3.” Derek moved them in the practiced pattern, the only real dance he knew how to do. He always liked the structure of it, even if it was a little weird to learn it with his sister when he was younger. “Keep your eyes up. Now you lead.”

They moved awkwardly in the small area, Stiles slowly catching on and getting the hang of leading more than following. “Man, I probably won't even use this. We'll probably just end up swaying in a tight back-and-forth movement through the whole song.”

Derek froze. “Oh. Uh, sorry. Wow, this is probably weird then. Sorry.”

Stiles' eyes widened and he tightened his grip on Derek's hand. “Hey, no. This is nice. I like, uh, learning... from you.” They stood like that, one hand raised in the air just looking at one another. Stiles opened his mouth to say something when a car horn blared outside, Scott leaning out the window of the limo shouting Stiles' name.

“Oh, Scott. Ever the romantic.” Stiles rolled his eyes and dropped Derek's hand, grabbing around for his house keys and wallet before slipping on his shoes. “Okay, how do I look?”

“Amazing,” Derek breathed out. Stiles blushed and fiddled with his suit jacket.

“Thanks. I-” The car horn blared again and Stiles shut his eyes and tensed his jaw. “Scott McCall, I know you can hear me. Give me two fucking minutes, dude.”

“You'd better go. Don't want to upset Scott's girlfriend when he's late to pick her up.”

“Psh, yeah.” Derek went to grab his phone off Stiles' bed when Stiles moved forward and hugged him. Derek easily hugged him back, a movement he wasn't usually comfortable with, but with Stiles, it just came naturally. Like breathing. “Thanks. For hanging out, I mean.”

Derek nodded and followed Stiles outside, watching him stand by the limo as his dad took photos of him and Scott. Derek pulled out his own phone, snapping a quick picture before waving goodbye and getting into his car. He pulled away before Stiles had even left, watching as the boy followed the car's departure with a sad look on his face.

*****

The pictures from prom were pretty hilarious. Stiles convinced Scott to be his “date” for the photos and they took the corniest awkward prom photo they could muster.

Derek kept the photo in his wallet because, hello, Stiles in a suit.

*****

Graduation was a family affair with Laura flying in from New York and the Castillo Pack coming to Beacon Hills from Colorado to watch Derek graduate. He would never admit it out loud, especially to Laura who cackled at the vibrant red graduation cap and gown the boys were forced to wear – unlike the girls who lucked out with the black robes – but Derek actually loved the attention. He was always so used to both sides of his Pack focusing on Laura or Logan that it was just nice that it was all about him for a day. 

After the hour long wait as the school’s administration got the students lined up correctly in a flurry just to have them stand in line behind the stage as cameras and families started to file into the mock-stadium, finally the opening notes to Pomp and Circumstance blared over the speakers. One by one the graduates filed in to take their seats, boys on the left and girls on the right, smiling up at their families as the audience whooped and hollered their congratulations. Derek was stuck sitting between Marc Goodman and Kenneth Harper, and he was struck with the realization that, after 12 years of being in the same small town and going to the same small schools, he didn’t have a clue as to who half of his graduating class was. Were these people here the whole time? He couldn’t for the life of him remember a single time he saw them during Homeroom. 

The seat under him was an ordinary metal folding chair, and he squirmed in an effort to get comfortable. He’d be sitting here for at least two hours of droning from the principal and faculty about how they were the “best graduating class yet!” and from the valedictorian promising to “never forget any of you” as she spoke too harshly into the microphone. Derek rolled his eyes and sighed in relief when the names began to be called. Slowly the students made their way up the stairs and across the stage, variations of excitement portrayed as some held up their false diplomas in victory while others gave small smiles and scurried off the stage. 

“Derek Hale!” 

Finally, he thought to himself as he made his way across the stage, grabbing with the left and shaking hands with the right. The principal muttered his congratulations and Derek nodded, sparing a glance to look up as his Pack jumped up in the air and cat-called toward him. He smirked as he exited the stage, going to sit back down with the blank piece of paper and a sense of “that’s it?” wafting over him. He focused his hearing toward his family, narrowing his eyes in a glare when he heard Logan teasing him about tripping down the stage. He was a graceful motherfucker, and his brother could shove it. 

With parting words from the principal, the graduates walked out of the area to pick up their real diplomas and deposit their rolled up place holders. Derek snatched his quickly then walked out to find his parents. They had set up base in the grass and all began to cheer obnoxiously as Derek made his way over. His father pulled him into a tight hug first, followed by his mother who patted his cheek with a look of pure fondness. Laura and Logan simultaneously tackled him, shaking him and punching his arm in an effort not to look too proud of their brother. 

Stiles was next, throwing his arms around Derek’s neck in a hug. He was wearing a green button down and slacks, forgoing the tie, and Derek did his best not to stare at the peeking of his collar bone from the opening of the shirt. Instead, Derek wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist, squeezing him tighter before pulling away. They shared a look for a moment, Derek seeing Stiles’ eyes light up with happiness before he was tugged into another quick hug. “Congrats, Der,” Stiles muttered before letting go and pushing him toward Scott. After about a thousand hugs and pats on the back, followed by an innumerable amount of pictures, the Hale and Castillo Packs climbed into their cars to make their way back to the Hale home. 

Picnic tables and decorations lined the backyard and a flurry of people moved in and out of the house, setting up food and getting the grill started. Laura commandeered the stereo, blasting a Top 40s station as the families came together to mingle. Derek noticed many of the Castillo members taking an interest to Scott since he was their newest, and he chuckled at how scared Scott looked. His aunts and uncles shoved envelopes of money into Derek’s hands, and his cousins set their presents down on a table. Laura cleared out an area for dancing, and many of the adults began twirling each other around to the music. 

“Hey.” Derek startled and turned to see Stiles holding two plates of food in his hands. “I got you some food. Figured we should eat now before all that’s left is potato salad and celery sticks.” Derek took the offered plate and followed Stiles to a table where there wasn’t already someone sitting. 

“You have a startlingly huge family,” Stiles said with wide eyes as he shoveled baked beans into his mouth. 

“I suppose. We don’t really see my mom’s side of the family too much, only on occasions like this. Usually the most extended family I see is Peter and his wife and kids.” Stiles made a humming noise of understanding around his food. “Plus, in a way, they’re your family, too,” Derek said as an afterthought. 

From the other side of the table, Stiles made a choking sound followed by a fit of coughing. He reached for his water and gulped it down, Derek staring at him on edge just in case he had to pull the Heimlich maneuver. After another cough, Stiles wiped the tears from his eyes and muttered an apology. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Huh? What? Yeah! Yeah I’m, uh, I’m great. It’s just, like, you said they were my family and I just thought- Uh, never mind.” Stiles poked at his cornbread and avoided Derek’s eyes. 

“Well, you’re Pack. They’re Pack. So they’re your family,” Derek said slowly as if explaining something to a child. Stiles nodded vigorously, and looked up with a smile. 

“Yeah, I got that now.” Derek felt his head tilt in confusion, but he shook it off. He knew by now that sometimes you just had to let Stiles be Stiles. Danger lay where questions are asked. 

The two ate in comfortable silence, both content to be lost in their own thoughts. From his peripheral vision, he could see Stiles taking small glances up at him, but he did nothing to address them. If Stiles wanted to look at him, who was Derek to make it awkward? Instead, they sat and poked at the food that Derek's father had prepared and let the silence be. There would only be three months before Derek had to pack up and leave for Sacramento, and still, he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He had never been away from the Pack for more than a few days, let alone months at a time.

Realistically, he knew that Sacramento was only a few hours’ drive away from Beacon Hills. If he needed to, he could come home for the weekend and be with his family, especially on nights of the full moon. He was old enough now to not need his Alpha during those nights, but he couldn't lie that knowing his mother was close by eased the tension and made for a smooth transition. But full moons didn't always occur on convenient nights, and driving home on a weekday was impractical. If Laura could adjust, Derek sure as hell could.

He looked over his shoulder at his sister. They didn't see much of each other now that Laura lived in New York, but the undeniable bond was still there. He and Laura had always been close, even more so than he and Logan. It would be a lie for Derek to say that a part of him didn't worship his sister. She was always fierce and level-headed, while also being the most exciting and free-spirited person he had ever known. When Derek had been younger, he trailed after her wherever she would go. The women in his life had always held a very special place in his heart. Sure, he loved his father and uncle, and Logan as well, but his mother and sister were always something more. Derek treasured their nurture and always trusted that they would always do what was the very best for him.

Laura had caught Derek's glance and headed over to their table. She lightly squeezed the back of his neck before addressing Stiles. “Hey, kiddo. How about you ditch wallflower over here and come dance with me? Lord knows Derek won't.” She ran her hand up through Derek's hair as he blushed.

“I can't dance, Lor. You know that.”

“Whatever you tell yourself, D. While you sit here and act like fun is some sort of disease, I will be stealing Stiles. C'mon.” Laura reached her hand out toward Stiles who took it easily and practically ran around the table to join her.

“Hey, man. I'll save a dance for you if you're up for it!” Stiles called over his shoulder as Laura led him to the makeshift dance floor. As soon as he stepped foot in the area, Stiles began to gyrate and shake his body in horribly uncoordinated movements, disregarding any beat the music was keeping and dancing like it was the last thing he'd ever do. Derek could hear Laura laughing at the spectacle and doing her best to keep up, all the while Derek's family stared with faces varying from amused to horrified. He shook his head, knowing full-well that there wasn't a chance in hell that he'd be joining them, and turned to find Peter watching him. His uncle titled his head to the left in a “follow me” gesture, then walked away. Derek pushed himself from his seat and spared one last look at Stiles, who was now doing some sort of running man meets cabbage patch move before following after Peter.

He found him in a small clearing that looked out toward the sunset. Peter always had an ease about him in everything that he did. In the way he held himself, in the look in his eyes, and in his general being. He oozed that he was better than you, and that he was completely confident about it. Derek stood next to him, looking out toward the pink and orange sky.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Peter said as he turned toward Derek, his hand outstretched. Derek took it hesitantly.

“You said that already after graduation. All I did was get through high school. I mean, it wasn't all that great.”

“On the contrary, my dear nephew. There are plenty of people who never get their diplomas or allow themselves to make something of their lives. There is plenty to be proud of. But, as it is, that was not what the congratulations were toward. I, for one, am simply happy that you've found love.”

Derek froze, his eyes widening as he turned to face his uncle once more. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and was for a moment terrified that the entire Pack could hear it, too. “Wh-what are you talking about?” Derek's eyes flashed as Peter tilted his head back in a laugh.

“Oh, Derek, please. If it weren't already written all over your face, it surely would be known through the pheromones you excrete every time you come near the Stilinski boy.” Derek's jaw fell slack before he tensed, gritting his teeth together.

“Stiles? He's my friend, I don't-” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and squeezing at his arm. “He's my best friend. I-I love him, sure. But I'm not in love with him. Peter, please,” Derek grabbed onto his uncles arm and pleaded, “please don't go spreading rumors like this. Keep whatever you think is going on to yourself. If this ever got to Stiles, I don't-”

“Alright.”

“-know what he would- Wait. Alright?”

“Derek,” Peter loosened Derek's grip on him and brought his own to rest on his shoulder as he gripped the back of his neck. Derek leaned into the touch, feeling the security of Pack and safety rush over him. “As much as I do not agree with what you're trying to say, I won't say a word. Your not-so-secret secret is safe with me. But,” he said, tilting his head up a bit to reach Derek's eyes, “honestly, nephew. No one has to be told to know what you feel for that boy. Everyone else is just polite and won't bring it up, whereas I'm not and would rather rub it in.” Peter smirked and Derek's shoulders slumped. He nodded quickly and let Peter extract himself to head back to the party.

Allowing himself a moment more of peace, he headed back as well, the sun almost completely set, allowing Laura to light up the lanterns and fairy lights around the backyard. He watched as couples began to take advantage of the night to dance closer, bodies pressed up against one another as their movements slowed. His eyes searched out of their own volition for Stiles, finding him standing with Scott, talking animatedly about their own graduation party the next year. He went to move toward them, but halted himself. If he went over there, he would ask Stiles to dance. Best scenario, Stiles would say no and Derek wouldn't have to endure the overwhelming embarrassment that would follow. Worst case scenario, he would say yes, allow Derek to lead him to the dance floor only to be appalled as Derek did nothing but step on his feet and elbow him in the ribs, and any attempt to be romantic would fly out the window in an instant.

Sighing, he moved to the other end of the backyard, sitting down and watching as Laura pulled Scott onto the floor, leaving Stiles alone with the punch bowl. Derek's eyes flashed at his own stupidity because, even though Stiles was alone and obviously willing, if the way his eyes darted to the dance floor and back were any indication, Derek couldn't bring himself to stand up. Instead, he tilted his head back and looked toward the stars, the music of Frank Sinatra calling out to him.

He was pathetic.

*****

Nolan grabbed for the final box before Derek shut the trunk and picked up the mattress he rested on the side of the car. His parents had thankfully allowed him to keep the Sedan while he was in Sacramento as long as he made the promise to come home more frequently than holidays. He made no effort to mention that he was already planning on doing so, and graciously accepted the keys. Looking up at the residence hall, he carried the mattress and let his father guide him up to his room. Laura had been adamant that he bring his own because you never know who slept on the stock mattress before you or what they had done on it. Plus, the smell of someone else all over the bed would almost make Derek sick to his stomach.

They reached his room, 612, and found Laura and Talia already arranging the desk and drawers while Logan set up his Ethernet cable and various chargers. Derek flopped the mattress down on the bed frame and backed away quickly as Talia grabbed the bed sheets and fitted them into place. His dad was starting forward to fill up the mini-fridge when another boy they didn't recognize entered the room.

“Oh! Hey,” the guy said as he adjusted the strap to his duffel bag on his shoulder. “I'm Kyle, your roommate.” Kyle shifted forward and extended his hand toward Derek, who shook it politely.

“I'm Derek. These are my parents and siblings,” he acknowledged with a sweep of his arm. “I hope that's not weird. They're just helping to set up stuff.”

“Nah, it's cool. Wish my parents could have come out here to help, but I'm from back East. Maine, actually. They couldn't really make the trip.” Kyle shrugged and dropped his duffel and suitcase onto the bed, before setting his laptop bag on the desk. “So, are you from around here, then?”

Silence fell on the room before Derek startled, realizing that the question was directed at him. Usually, Laura would jump in to answer, but she pointedly kept her lips tight and gestured toward Kyle. “Yeah. Beacon Hills. It's pretty close to Oakland.” Kyle hummed in response, prompting Derek to clarify. “It's North. In California.”

Kyle laughed. “Yeah, I'm not the best with Californian geography. Maine is pretty straight forward. But cool, it must be nice being pretty close to home and all.”

“Yeah. It's great.” More silence followed, but this time it wasn't so awkward. It would take Derek a while to get used to another person's scent so close to his own, but Derek was thankful that at least Kyle wasn't gross. He didn't think he would be able to handle if his roommate weren't at least hygienic. As everyone bustled around the room, Derek hoped Kyle wouldn't notice his family running their hands over everything as much as they could. They were scenting the room, making it smell and feel like Pack, but to an outsider it probably looked like they were just overly tactile. He sighed when he looked over to find Kyle tacking up posters by his own bed and not paying attention to the Hales at all.

After about two hours of organizing and unpacking, Talia finally deemed the room acceptable and the Hale family parted ways, his mother's eyes getting misty with unshed tears and his father giving him a firm hug before leaving the room. Logan and Laura, once again, hugged him simultaneously, Derek's taller frame allowing for him to pull them both to his chest before letting go. With a click, the door locked behind them and Derek was alone. Well, Kyle was there, but he was almost like furniture right now. He didn't count yet.

It was only six o'clock, way too early to start getting ready for sleep, no matter how tired he was. He didn't want to be that guy on his first day there. So instead, he slipped back into his shoes and grabbed his keys. “Uh, I'll be back later?” he called to Kyle, more like a question. He wasn't sure about the protocol was for living with someone else. Kyle just waved him out and went back to his own business. Walking through the dorm hall, many of the rooms were open with people already mingling and meeting one another. His RA was moving from room to room. He was a boisterous guy, and by the sound of it, he was a Junior at the college, majoring in public speaking.

Great. Like he needed another chatterbox in his life.

Thoughts of Stiles back at home filled his mind, and he let himself miss the boy for a moment before blocking it out. It wouldn't help any budding homesickness to think about his friends and family this soon in the game. Instead, he weaved around the other residents and finally made it down to the lobby and outside without being stopped by anyone. He breathed in, adjusting to the differences in the smell of the city. It was clogged with the scent of unfamiliar people and nerves. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he made his way toward the campus.

The college grounds were relatively empty, save for a few other students who must have had the same idea as him. Everyone else was moving in or getting together at the student union. It was the perfect time for Derek to find his classes. Any opportunity Derek could get to not talk to anyone in regards to asking for help or directions, the better.

The campus was a mix of old and new, varying from ivy covered walls to sleek concrete and ceiling high windows, with a sparse amount of trees lining the walkway through the buildings. Finding the correct buildings wasn't too hard, but most of the doors were locked due to the late summer hours, so the classroom hunt would have to be saved for a later date. Instead, Derek decided to find somewhere nearby that he could shift. He made his way back to his car and drove around the town, disappointment settling in when he realized he would have to drive a ways out anyway just to find somewhere discreet. Beacon Hills was still too far, but he remembered a stretch of uninhabited land he could use. Huffing to himself, he made a U-turn back toward the dorms.

So far, Sacramento was everything he feared it would be. Too different, but not exciting enough to make it worth it. He hoped that the classes would at least be nice, because at the rate he was going, he couldn't find the reason why he – well, his parents – forked over the money just so that he could do what he would have done in Beacon Hills. He made his way back to his room and found his roommate had gone out. Taking advantage of the empty room, Derek turned on his computer and loaded up Skype.

s.stilinski is online

Derek smiled and clicked on his name, sending out a quick message.

derek.hale: Hey, can you video chat right now?

He drummed his fingers on his desk as he allowed his Google Chrome to load. Stiles usually took a while to answer, so he might as well take the time to check his e-mail and dick around on the internet. Sure enough, fifteen minutes later a Skype call came in, the familiar jingle putting a smile on his face. He pressed the video call button and waited as both of their cameras loaded.

“Derek!” Stiles beamed at him through the screen, and Derek couldn't help but smile back. Stiles was at his desk, the familiar background giving Derek a sense of ease he didn't know he was missing. “How's the school?”

“Hey. Well, the campus is pretty nice. I mean, it just looks like any other school. And I had a look around the town but I didn't find anywhere I could shift. Looks like I'll be using empty lots for a while.”

“Aw, shit that sucks. But, I guess besides that, it's cool there? How's the dorm? Is your roommate creepy? Is he into like weird shit or like Satan worship? Is he hot or is he wonky looking? C'mon, Der, I'm dying here.”

Tipping his head down, he allowed himself a small laugh which was more of him breathing air out very quickly through his nose than any actual sound. “The dorm's good. It's weird, with all the scents that I don't recognize so sleeping might be pretty hard for a few days. And my roommate, his name is Kyle. He's average, I guess. I didn't really get to talk to him, but as far as I can tell he's just like any other 18 year old guy.” Derek turned to scan his eyes over Kyle's things. “Looks like he's into basketball and he's got a decent DVD collection. I'm seeing some Pineapple Express but also A Clockwork Orange, which naturally means the dude is a serial killer.”

“You never know. I mean, the dude probably thinks you're just some straight laced kid from California and not even remotely a creature of the night. Don't judge too quickly,” Stiles warned. Derek rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but agree. His roommate will go his entire life never knowing that he lived with a werewolf, and the thought gave Derek the chills. What else was out there that even he would never know about?

“Anyway, the guy likes sports and he seemed easy going enough. I'll probably only end up sleeping in the same room as him so, whatever. And I guess he's attractive. I'm not the best judge of those kinds of things. He's got blond hair and he was wearing a Polo shirt. That's about all I know. Sorry to disappoint.” Derek shrugged and allowed Stiles to fire off endless questions ranging from how close the dining hall was to how many individual people he could hear in the one building. Derek counted 34 before stopping. He realized that hearing the secret lives of his fellow peers was both disturbing and highly unwanted on both ends.

Around 10:50, Kyle came back to the dorm. Derek and Stiles were both still on the camera, each doing their own thing. It was just nice having someone else there, even if they were really miles away. The sound of the door opening startled them both, and Stiles called out a hello.

“Hey, is that Kyle? Hi Kyle! I'm Stiles!” he said with an over exaggerated wave. Derek leaned away to allow Kyle to poke his head into the camera's frame. He gave his own hello, making small talk with Stiles before escaping and going in to the en suite bathroom. “Hmm, you're right. Attractive, but plain for the most part.” Derek whipped his head around, making sure Kyle wasn't listening, but he could hear the other boy shuffling around in the bathroom. He would really need to make sure to tone down his auditory sensory levels while the guy was in there. As Stiles would say, it was just fucking skeevy.

“I think I'm gonna head to sleep now, Stiles. I need to get up early tomorrow for freshman orientation, and no matter what you say, super healing has nothing to do with how sleepy I get.” Kyle came back out and hopped onto his own bed. “Plus, it'd be rude to stay on. Goodnight.”

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Der. I'll call you again sometime during the weekend, okay?”

Derek nodded and said one more goodnight before ending the call and signing off of Skype. Shutting his computer down, he collected his clothes to sleep in. “So, was that your boyfriend?” Kyle asked from his side of the room. Derek startled, dropping his pajama pants and grabbed them hastily before they hit the ground.

“No. He's my best friend. I don't- I'm not-”

“Woah, sorry. I just thought, 'cause you were looking at him all fond and... I dunno, sorry.” Kyle shrugged and lay down on the bed. Derek stood rooted to the spot before practically running into the bathroom. Jesus, even strangers thought he was in love with Stiles. Well, he was, but that didn't mean other people had to think so, too! He changed his clothes and brushed his teeth in a rush before shutting off the lights and getting into his new bed. Despite the attempt his family made to make it smell like Pack, there was just something off. The room smelt used and it irked him. That, mixed with Kyle's comment, kept Derek up for hours into the night.

*****

Classes were, admittedly, interesting for what they were. Being a freshman, all Derek was really taking were the gen-ed classes, but his calculus professor really seemed like he was interested in what he was teaching, which at least gave Derek some motivation to try and learn. He was never that great at math, but usually it was because it was boring as shit. Along with calculus, he was taking a basic California government course, Art in the Western World, College Composition, and Environmental Issues. Basic, first semester classes, but more than enough to keep Derek preoccupied.

The homework load wasn't nearly as bad as his high school teachers made it out to be, but Derek was determined to make his time at school worth it. Public school was free, so Derek never had the thought to care about it, but for the thousand plus dollars his parents were paying for university, he wasn't going to put a moment to waste.

But with his newly found enthusiasm toward school came separation. Every day phone calls home turned into bi-weekly calls, which turned into I'll-call-eventually. He hadn't spoken to Laura or Logan in weeks, and Scott or Peter in even longer. He really did try to keep up with Stiles though, but with the boy's own school schedule and increased after-school activities to boost his college resume, they hardly had any time to talk with one another. The longest they had gone was almost a month and a half without so much as a “hope you're day is going well” text.

Derek came home on occasion, mostly on three-day weekends, but his time with Scott and Stiles was always cut short. They were both on sports teams that practiced on weekends, and during the nights Derek allowed himself to shift into his Beta form and run. It was relaxing and liberating, but didn't leave much room for anything else.

It was early November when Stiles texted him “Hey, can we Skype tonight?” Derek eagerly agreed, essay be damned. He still had like, two whole days to do it. It could wait.

Logging on, he accepted the call and smiled at Stiles. The boy looked sleepy but content and Derek let the warmth he always felt around Stiles wash over him. “Hey stranger,” he greeted.

“Man, I missed you. It's been like, three weeks now. What's been going on?” Derek told Stiles about his essay on Californian Governors, rolling his eyes when Stiles begged him to call Schwarzenegger the “Governator.” Nothing else had really happened, though. Kyle joined the tennis club, so he was almost always out, and Derek had failed to join any. It wasn't his fault that being in a room with ten other people just didn't sound appealing.

“So, uh, I actually have something I need to tell you about.” Derek took in Stiles' change of tone, the one he used when he was nervous, and instantly focused.

“Go for it. Are you alright? Did something happen?”

Stiles chuckled, but it fell flat. “Well, not exactly. Well, actually, yeah. Something did happen. So, uh, lately I've been really involved with college fairs, especially the Berkeley booths and I actually met a guy there.” Stiles looked down for a moment at his keyboard, and Derek held his breath. “His name is Jason. He's had his heart sought out for Berkeley almost as long as I have and, well, it turns out we actually have a lot in common. We have the same taste in video games and music, and he even likes the same books as me. And, uh, tonight...I went on a date with him.”

Derek felt his throat tighten as he slowly let out the breath while trying to swallow down any saliva he could. His mouth had gone dry and his claws were starting to extend. “So,” he gritted out, “is he your boyfriend or something?” He knew it came out harsh, but with trying to keep himself from wolfing out, his voice was the least of his concerns.

“Well, no. But, he could be? I mean, he seems to really like me and I think I could really like him back.” Stiles sounded small over the line, while Derek was keeping himself silent. Reeling himself in. “Are you- I mean, is this okay?” Stiles asked. Derek looked at him closely; his eyes were bright even through the pixelated webcam. He looked for all the world like whatever Derek said next would decide his entire future.

Of course it wasn't okay. Who the hell was this guy to just come in and steal what was Derek's? Who did this guy think he was? Derek's eyes flashed and he quickly looked away from the screen. That was it, wasn't it? Stiles didn't belong to anyone, especially not to Derek. And he had absolutely no claim over Stiles, and to pretend like he did wasn't going to change anything.

“Yeah,” he whispered, more to himself more than anything. “Yeah, it's perfectly fine. I mean, why wouldn't it be?” It was said as a challenge, a dare for Stiles to answer the unspoken question that has been hanging over them for over two years. Derek stared at Stiles who's mouth moved with unspoken words, before he nodded.

“Yeah, why wouldn't it be?” he said with a tight smile, and if they both pretended that they couldn't hear the lie, well, who was to say otherwise?

*****

With every new relationship comes, what Derek likes to call, the “hypnosis stage.” Where everything suddenly stops existing and you are caught in an overwhelming trance that you aren't even aware that you're in. Slowly, friendships, responsibilities, personal care, they all go out the window. As though the only thing that matters is your significant other. Talking to them into the late hours of the night, dropping any plans you already have to spend time with them, and basically becoming a zombie. And while all of this was great and good for Stiles, Derek was now left alone. It was as if he had just been kicked out of Stiles' world. The only times he ever heard from him was when Derek would talk to Scott and he'd be in the same room, on the phone with him.

That's all Derek could bare to call Stiles' boyfriend, because calling the guy “dick face” sounded too immature, even to his own ears. He would always be on the phone with Stiles and he would always be the topic of every conversation that Stiles ever had. Maybe it was for the best that Derek distanced himself because if Derek had to hear his name one more time, he would be waking up in a very far away island where no one could hear his cries for help.

A guy could only dream.

So Derek delved deeper into his studies and without the constant distraction of friends or family or, you know, having some sort of life, he was actually acing all of his homework and tests. It was a huge ego boost, knowing that he really could do this whole college thing. No wonder Logan worked so hard in school. Hearing his mom tell him how proud she was of him made everything in his personal life just that much better.

He couldn't avoid Beacon Hills for long though. Thanksgiving was a Hale affair, with both the McCall and Stilinski families keeping to themselves for the holiday. It was nice just being with Laura and Logan for a change. Peter's kids were there too, and it was just nice to be around his blood family. Scott would always be his brother, that wasn't going to change, but he wasn't a Hale.

December flew by in a haze of final exams and secondhand stress that Kyle projected through the room, putting both himself and Derek on edge. Derek wanted to shake the other boy, tell him to stop being so loud with his worry, but it wouldn't make sense when all his roommate was doing was biting his nails and sighing. So instead of seeming more insensitive than he was sure he already was, he did all of his studying in the unused quiet lounge in the dorms. 

Introduction to Art was the only hiccup he really faced. The final assignment was to paint what meant the most to them. Initially, he wanted to paint the Pack, but it ended up looking like one of those “This Is My Family” drawings kindergarteners do for arts and crafts. Then he tried drawing his home and the forest, but every attempt left it empty. There was something missing and it took him almost a week and a half to figure it out. The final piece came out pretty well, earning him a passing grade for the class. Not wanting to throw it away, Derek kept it on his desk for a while, but the more he stared at it the more he knew what he had to do with it.

Covering it with tissue wrapping paper, he gift wrapped the painting as well as he could. Christmas was coming around the corner, and Derek was never the best at gift giving. Hopefully this wouldn't look like he was being conceited or something. He almost changed his mind, but decided to go with his gut and packed it away with his other belongings that he would be taking back to Beacon Hills with him for Winter Vacation. 

The air was chilled on his drive back home, reaching a low of 39°F by midday. Even with his higher body temperature, the cold still bit into his skin. He pulled his threadbare hoodie closer to his person, cursing himself for disregarding his father’s advice for a heavier jacket. Beacon Hills didn’t get as cold as Sacramento did, how was he supposed to know his body wouldn’t adjust? His jacket hung loose around his frame from years of use, the scent of Pack clinging to the fading fibers. Relenting to the cold, he flicked on the heater in his car and let the warm air blow over his face. 

By the time he pulled up to his home’s driveway, the warmth had lulled him into an almost sleepy haze. His body moved lethargically as he grabbed his backpack from the passenger’s seat and slung his laptop bag over his shoulder. He gave himself another moment in the heat of the car before opening the door, his skin meeting with the brisk December air. He cursed under his breath as he pulled his suitcase from the trunk and ran toward the door. Soon enough, though, as he unlocked the front door and let himself inside, his body had already began to adjust to the familiar temperature. It was only 56°F, unseasonably warm for the winter season, but he wasn't going to complain. 

No one was home yet, so Derek let himself up to his room and dumped his stuff by the foot of his bed, pulling out his laptop and hooking it up to the charger. He’d unpack later. Moving back down the stairs and into the kitchen, he scanned through the refrigerator and cupboards before settling on making himself a sandwich. Pulling out the roast beef and condiments, he started preparing his lunch when the car pulled in to the driveway. He could hear his family call out his name, so he grabbed his sandwich and followed the sound of their voices. 

“Derek! Check it out! This tree is twice as big as the one last year!” Logan was practically vibrating out of his skin with excitement. The large Evergreen was strapped to the roof of Peter’s Range Rover, the pine needles spilling over the edge. Derek could smell the dirt still clinging to the bottom of the tree’s trunk, the whole thing smelling so natural. He held both of the front doors open as Peter and Nolan maneuvered it into the house while Logan squeezed passed them to set up the tree stand. Setting it down and unwrapping it from its constraints, the tree took up the entire North East corner of the living room.

They still had to wait for Laura to get into town, so the tree was left bare for the night, but when Derek woke up, admittedly later than he intended, Laura was already home and the tree was half done. “Thanks for waiting,” Derek grumbled, sleep still irritating his voice. Laura laughed brightly, running around the couch to give him a quick squeeze around the waist. 

“Oh shush. All we did was the lights and tinsel. You hate that part so we figured, two birds, one stone. Plus, only you and dad are tall enough to reach the top of the tree, so you’d have some sort of use,” she said with a wink. Derek shoved her lightly but made his way over to the cardboard boxes filled with ornaments. Most of them were from when he and his siblings were really young, back when accumulating ornaments was done by age. Now at 19 years old, there didn’t really seem to be a point in adding even more bobbles to the tree. 

He reached for one of the glass angels his Auntie Katerina had bought them the year before. They had quite a bit of weight to them, bending down the branch he chose to hang it with. Reaching back into the box, he grabbed each decoration one by one, careful to hang them close to the top so Logan could do the bottom. His dad was the honorary star topper, and within the hour the tree was dressed head to toe in tinsel and sparkling with lights. Derek never really cared too much for Christmas, seeing as he wasn’t religious, but he did love the way everyone came together to do silly things like hanging stockings they’d had for years by the mantle and baking every kind of cookie under the sun. 

Derek sat himself down heavily on the couch and pulled out his phone. He thumbed through his contacts and hovered over Stiles’ name. All of this holiday preparation reminded Derek of him, memories of failed ice skating attempts and endless Christmas jingles from the year before made his heart ache. Even though he hadn’t talked to him in over a month, Stiles was still his best friend and ‘tis the season for forgiveness. Pushing down whatever resentment he was feeling, he pressed the call button and listened as the phone rang. 

After 4 rings, Derek almost hung up when he heard the line connect. “Derek?” Stiles sounded winded, his breaths puffing out over the speaker of his phone. “Hello?” 

“Sorry, is this a bad time?” 

“Huh? No, why?” 

“You sound like you’re out of breath. Look, I could call back if you’re-“ 

“Oh! No, I just ran up the stairs ‘cause I heard the phone.” 

“Oh.” 

Derek let the silence hang over them. He suddenly had nothing to say, but hanging up would be rude. So instead, he waited, knowing Stiles wouldn’t be able to let a lull last for more than a few seconds. “So,” Stiles said, stretching out the vowel. Derek smirked. Yep, typical Stiles. “What’s up? Are you back in town?” 

“Mmhm.” 

“When did you get in?” 

“Yesterday.” 

Another silence. “So, uh, look. I’m actually about to head out. But I’ll talk to you tonight?” Stiles sounded hopeful, and for a moment it gave Derek courage. 

“Of course. But, I actually called ‘cause I wanted to see if we could get together on Christmas. I know you’re probably going to be spending time with your dad and…Jason, but I dunno, if you can spare some time. Only if you aren’t busy. I’ll be here a while, so, no rush.” That was the most Derek had said to almost anyone in one breath for a long time. 

Stiles sighed, and Derek felt his stomach drop, preparing himself for rejection. “Not gonna lie, I totally thought you wouldn’t ask. I was scared I was going to have to just show up tugging Scott along under some Pack pretense. But, dude, duh I’ll come over for Christmas. It’s tradition, Der.” The little nickname was said softly, fond in a way that only Stiles could make Derek feel. “Listen, I really do have to get going, but I’ll call you tonight. We’ll catch up.” 

“It’s only been a month, Stiles.” Hypocrite he thought to himself.

“Yeah, well, I miss you, jerk. Talk to you later?” 

Derek voiced his agreement and hung up before he shouted out something stupid like “I love you” over the line. He felt his smile tugging at his lips and he tried to push down the happiness that was bubbling up in his chest. Nah, screw it. Stiles was his friend and he was entitled to the giddiness that was making his heart race. Derek laid himself out on the couch and fiddled with the gold tassels on the throw pillow. 

Okay, so maybe Stiles hadn't cut Derek out as completely as he thought. Actually, he sounded relieved that Derek had called him in the first place. The smile blooming on his face grew and he shoved his face into the pillow in an effort to hold down his blush. He wasn't some love-sick preteen with his first crush. Pulling himself together, he pointedly ignored Peter's telling smirk as he joined his family in the kitchen. 

***** 

Since they were old enough to understand what Christmas was, the Hale siblings always spent the Christmas Eve night huddled up next to one another on the couch bed in the living room, staying up as long as they could into the earliest hours of Christmas morning. Without the thrill of Santa Claus like human children had, the Hale kids had to compromise. Typically, whoever fell asleep first had to open their presents last. It wasn't really fair because Logan was always younger, always falling asleep long before Derek and Laura even grew tired. 

Now with Laura in her twenties and Derek and Logan well into their teenage years, and three Hales could stay up for days on end, so instead they would crack open the cider and eggnog and caught up with each other, still crammed onto the now way too small bed. Laura told them about the snow in New York and how, even in the busiest city in the world, the way the flakes fell calmly through the night sky. Derek boasted about his maintained GPA and Logan groaned about upcoming SATs. 

“Log, it's not like you won't get the highest score in your class. Chill out.” 

“Getting the highest score in my class isn't that great of a feat, Lor. I need to worry about the other thousands of kids outside of this town. The ones who've been as devoted to Stanford as me.” Logan sighed, tilting his head to the side to rest on his sister's shoulder while Derek rubbed at his neck. Poor kid. Derek couldn't even imagine the stress that must be weighing down on his brother. 

“Okay, okay. We are not turning into some sad Lifetime movie. It's Christmas, we need to think happy thoughts.” Laura took another swig of the eggnog, the alcohol burning for a moment but for the most part doing nothing to their werewolf bodies. 

The sun began to slowly rise, officially signaling Christmas morning, and Laura popped up from the bed, gaining a head start as she raced her brothers up to their parent's room, Derek hot on her heels. They burst into the room, their parents already stretching awake. You were never too old for early morning presents. 

They all hurried down the stairs toward the tree, sitting around it in a half circle. Nolan began passing the first presents around while Derek checked his phone. 

From: Stiles Stilinski (6:12 am) 
HAPPY CHRISTMAS DEREK!!!! SEE YOU TONIGHT! 

To: Stiles Stilinski (6:17 am) 
Merry Christmas, Stiles. Let me know when you're on your way. 

From: Stiles Stilinski (6:17 am) 
Sure thing! Oh and dad can't come this time. The precinct is doing some sort of white elephant thing he has to go to :( 

To: Stiles Stilinski (6:18 am)
Tell him Merry Christmas for us, then. 

From: Stiles Stilinski (6:19 am) 
Dad grumbles his love! 

Derek relayed the message to his family before tearing into his gifts. The haul for the year included an external hard-drive, new hiking boots, a few shirts, a pair of Aviators, and a new iPod dock for his dorm room. He pushed his pile aside and stood to follow his dad into the kitchen to help him prepare the ham while his mom and Logan cleaned up the paper and boxes left behind. This was one of his favorite parts about Christmas, cooking with his father. Derek was always more of a momma's boy, seeing as she was the Alpha, it just came naturally. But that didn't mean that Derek didn't still want to follow in his father's footsteps, in any way that he could. 

Logan got Stanford, Derek got cooking. Laura got the weird obsession with sports cars. 

The day carried on slowly, the smells of cooking food and the sound of holiday music filling the air. Dean Martin crooned his version of Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! in the living room, Nolan singing along as he moved about. 

From: Stiles Stilinski (4:32 pm)
Be there soooooon

“Dad, Stiles is on his way.” 

“Is Scott coming, too?” 

To: Stiles Stilinski (4:34 pm)
Are you bringing Scott? 

From: Stiles Stilinski (4:37 pm)
...
 
Shit.
I was supposed to pick him up 30 minutes ago...

To: Stiles Stilinski (4:37 pm)
Drive safe, dummy. 

From: Stiles Stilinski (4:38 pm)
:(
You wound me.
I'm wounded
(i will)

“Yeah, he's picking Scott up. They'll probably be here within the half hour.” Derek grabbed an extra plate and set it on the table. Peter and Derek's Aunt Callie would be joining them after dinner. Apparently their kids were spending Christmas night with their own friends. Whatever, their loss. 

The door rang just as Hall & Oates' “Jingle Bell Rock” kicked in, Laura pulling the door open and grabbing both Scott and Stiles by the hands and twirling them around to the music.

“What a bright time, it's the right time, to rock the night away,” she sang as she left them to kick off their shoes by the door. Scott let himself be pulled into a tight hug by Talia, while Stiles ducked around the corner, eyes brightening as he found Derek.

“Der!” he called as he jumped forward, pulling Derek into a hug of their own. Derek laughed, squeezing lightly before patting Stiles on the back. “God it smells fu- uh, really good in here. What'd you guys make?” He hopped excitedly as he peered over Nolan's shoulder, getting his hand slapped when he made the move to steal a mushroom cap off the serving tray.

“Ham. Mashed, Au Gratin, and sweet potatoes. Macaroni casserole. Mushroom caps with stuffing. Sweet rolls – Stiles, could you pass me the salt? – gravy. The usual,” Nolan said as he stirred the offered salt into the browning gravy. Stiles grabbed for a carrot stick, handing one over to Derek as he joined him to set the table.

“C'mon, gang. Dinner,” Nolan called out, pouring the gravy into a bowl and bringing it over to the table. He sat himself at one end, Talia seating herself on the other. Logan and Scott kept to the left while Stiles, Derek, and Laura sat at the right. 

They piled their plates with food, waiting for Talia to take the first bite before digging in themselves. “So, Stiles, honey. We haven't heard from you in a while. What have you been up to? How's your father doing?” Talia asked before biting into a roll.

“Dad's good. I think he's mostly happy that Beacon Hills is a pretty quiet town. He's got a friend out in Virginia who says her town is getting plagued by murders. They all sound pretty supernatural if you ask me, but it's not like I could tell dad that. It's not his problem anyway, why add the stress? But, you know, besides that, I've applied for Berkeley. I'll find out in February if I got in or not-”

“Which you totally will,” Scott beamed, looking proud of his friend. Derek nodded in agreement, causing Stiles to blush.

“Here's hoping. Uh,” Stiles paused, looking at Derek quickly, before continuing, “I actually have a boyfriend now.” Ugh. Great. Merry Christmas, Derek. “Jason Hughes. He's a senior with me at school. Met him while I was college fair stalking the Berkeley recruiters. He's great.”

“Yeah, he's cool. He's on the swim team and is pretty damn head over heels for Stiles,” Scott added, and Derek could feel Talia's eyes on him as his hand tightened over his fork.

“Ooh! A swimmer,” Laura winked, “So what did he get you for Christmas?” she pried, wincing only slightly when Logan kicked her under the table.

“Some Berkeley swag. Ya'know, the blanket, a Beanie Baby, a hoodie. I think it's his way of assuring me that I'll get in. He's really good to me.” Stiles' eyes flicked over Derek's features, but Derek kept his eyes on his now empty plate. His heart was beating loudly, and he could tell that even Scott could feel his tension.

“Well, speaking of presents, we should reconvene in the living room to exchange gifts to Scott and Stiles,” Nolan suggested, breaking the stifling silence. Talia agreed and began to start the coffee, Logan and Laura clearing off the dishes and packing away left overs. Derek pushed himself out of his seat and made his way toward the couch, allowing Scott to run his hand over his shoulder as he passed. Even though Scott wasn't a Hale, he was still Pack. His touch soothed Derek, even if only slightly. 

Snap out of it, he scolded himself. Stiles slowly made his way into the living room, scanning for an open space before Derek rolled his eyes and moved over to make room. Stiles smiled gratefully, and mouthed “thank you.”

“Alright, alright. First one up is Scott. This one is from Talia and me.” Nolan began passing the gifts around as the other Hales joined them. Derek had gotten Scott a few DVDs he knew he didn't own, Scott giving him a Dodgers mug. Stiles croaked at the limited edition Flash comic Derek had spent months trying to track down.

“Dude, this must have cost you a fortune,” he said with wide eyes. Derek shrugged and stretched his arm out around Stiles, carding his fingers through his hair in the familiar way he used to when it was just them after school. Stiles leaned into the touch momentarily before leaning away and grabbing Derek's present. “Happy Christmas, Der.”

The rest of his family was caught up in unwrapping their own gifts. Laura barked out a laugh at the bedazzled apron Stiles had decorated for her job at some hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in New York. Derek looked down at his own gift and tore at the paper. The scent of leather hit his nose instantly, and he pulled out a soft, black leather jacket. Bringing the jacket up to his nose, his eyes flashed quickly. Leather was like, a thing for wolves. And apparently it carried onto werewolves.

“I hope it fits,” Stiles said, chewing on his bottom lip as Derek moved to try it on. “It's possible that you've gotten even more bulky since the last time I saw you.”

It fit perfectly across his shoulders and chest. The sleeves were a little long, hanging halfway over his palms, but that was entirely manageable. And, God, it was warm. Too warm, in the heat of the house, but it would be perfect for the winter.

Derek stood up and pulls Stiles up along with him, bringing him into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered, knowing fully well that everyone could hear him, but thankfully they all let the two be. Stiles pulled away, a smile lifting at the edges of his lips and his eyes expressed his happiness.

“No problemo.”

“Wait, hold on. I forgot something,” Derek said, pushing Stiles back into his seat and running up the stairs to grab into his bag. He found the present under his pile of shirts he still hadn't put away. He bounded back down the stairs and leaned over from behind the couch to place the gift on Stiles' lap. “Here. One more.”

“What? Why does Stiles get two?” Scott whined, but was ignored by the boys. Stiles tore into the paper, peeling off the tissue until he uncovered the painting. He looked confused for a moment, before he really started to look at it.

The piece was of the Hale house, surrounded by the rich greens of the forest in the night, the pale moon casting small shadows in the dark. Specks of gold and blue were dotted in the shadows of the trees, a pair of red in the middle. On the porch, the familiar red hoodie was hung, painted as if it were blown by the breeze.

“Is that my-” Stiles started, and Derek nodded.

“We were supposed to paint what meant the most to us. I got an A on it,” he smirked, but Stiles' silence left him feeling uncomfortable. Like he was being judged. “Look, I thought you might like it but if that's weird then I can just give it to my mom. She can hang it by the fridge or something.” Derek made a move for the painting but it was yanked away, Stiles' grip tightening on the edges.

“Hey! It's mine, no give backs. Sorry momma Hale.”

“Derek, that's actually really good. You should take another art class next semester if you can,” Logan suggested. Huh, Derek thought, maybe I should. I mean, it was actually pretty interesting. Why not?

“I'll think about it,” he answered instead.

After coffee and pie, Stiles and Scott gorging on all of the flavors because, “Der! You can't eat just one. Where's your holiday spirit?” the Pack parted ways, going up to their respective rooms, Scott and Stiles taking advantage of their own. Derek called out his goodnight before shutting his door. He rummaged around the room for his phone charger when he heard Stiles' phone go off in his own room. Derek wasn't listening in, he was just – no, he was listening in.

Hey, Jace...no, I'm not at home...No, I'm at the Hale house with Scott...Of course Derek is here, it's his house...No, I'm-...Yeah...Oh, my God, did she really?” Stiles laughed. “That's priceless...Really, your sister should probably learn not to have sex in her parent's house...” There was a silence, and Derek strained to hear the other half of the conversation, but as hard as he tried, he could only hear faint murmurs. ”Eventually, I promise...Jace we are not having sex in my dad's house that's so wrong don't even-...Okay, maybe...”

That's where Derek had had enough. Stiles was already having sex with him? They barely even knew each other! Derek flipped off the light switch with more force than necessary, jumping onto his bed and burying his head underneath the pillows. Images of Stiles' pale skin against Derek's black sheets crowded his mind. He could imagine running his tongue along the boy's torso, tracing the small moles that dotted his skin. Stiles' lean muscles would clench and his abdomen would tense as Derek made his way down, past the waistband of Stiles' boxers, tracing the small V-line of his hips.

Derek groaned and wondered if it was true that you couldn't smother yourself to death. 

*****

Derek woke slowly, letting himself burrow deeper into his bed, pulling the comforter closer to his body. The sunlight streamed through his window, stretching out around his room and reaching toward his bed. He turned his body away from the light and yawned deeply, soaking up every moment of the lazy morning. He could hear his mother in the kitchen starting the coffee pot, but otherwise the rest of the house was still, the faint huffs of breath and quiet snores lulling Derek back to sleep. 

After allowing himself to doze for another minute, he eased himself out of bed, lifting his arms up over his head to stretch out his limbs, and then pushed himself out of bed. It was still 7:10 according to his alarm clock, and the house shouldn’t wake for another hour or so. He grabbed his towel off the hook he kept in his room, trekking slowly to the bathroom, mumbling a “morning, mom,” before shutting the door. He flipped the shower on, and stared into the mirror while the water warmed. 

He ran his hand over his jaw, the stubble there verging into full beard territory. His hair was getting longer, too. Checking his teeth he found the same dumb front teeth he’d had since he was a child, too long, but blessedly straight. Removing his shirt, he prodded at his abdomen and flexed the muscles there, relishing in the way they hardened. He worked for those muscles endlessly during his freshman year, and hadn’t stopped maintaining them since. His muscles were the only thing he cared for in his appearance, and knew it was what others appreciated the most, as well. 

Tugging off his boxers, he stepped into the shower, letting the water fall across his face for a moment before turning around and letting it wash over his shoulders and back. He closed his eyes and let his senses take over. Naturally, he went to the sounds coming from Stiles’ room. The guy was loud, even in his sleep. He could hear him smacking his lips before puffing out small breaths of air, the gentle in-and-out soothing Derek as he rinsed his hair from the lather of shampoo. 

Derek ran a hand over the back of his own neck, trailing it down his chest and lightly over his left nipple, squeezing once before moving on. His hand made its way down his torso, nails scratching down his skin as Stiles smacked his lips again before letting out a content sigh. Stiles always slept on his stomach with his perfect ass covered only by the thin material of whatever boxer briefs he slept in. Closing his eyes, Derek imagined the milky white skin of the boy’s legs, thighs spread open as Derek slotted himself between them, his hands reaching out to massage at Stiles' lower back, kneading with his thumbs before ducking in and pressing kisses down the boy's spine. 

He palmed at his dick as it hardened, thumbing at the head a little, teasing himself before falling into familiar strokes. He pictured himself following the line of Stiles' back until he reached his tailbone, lifting Stiles' hips higher, his ass vulnerable under Derek's scrutiny as Stiles would gasp and fist at the sheets underneath him. Derek would part the cheeks, watching as Stiles' rim clenched then gaped at the exposure before Derek would bend down and lick a stripe up his perineum and lightly around his hole. 

The sounds of Stiles waking up in the next room alerted Derek, his fist sliding faster over his cock. He was close. He listened as Stiles yawned and sighed as his body woke from sleep followed by a silence where Derek's movements slowed; he reined his orgasm back in before he heard a breathy sigh of a different kind. Stiles' breathing came out stuttered and his heart began to pick up tempo. Shit, fuck. He's masturbating and- oh, fuck- 

Stiles choked off a broken moan and Derek was absolutely gone on the sound, fisting at his dick harder before slumping forward, his forehead meeting the cool tile of the wall as he came. He panted heavily as he listened for Stiles' heartbeat, matching it up with his own. The water had started to go cold, and Derek quickly rinsed himself off before turning off the water. 

Patting himself dry before wrapping his towel around his waist, doing all he could to avoid his still sensitive cock, Derek looked at himself and frowned. This wasn't the first time he came to the thought of Stiles, but he'd never sunk so low as to listen as Stiles did the same. There were a few quick taps on the bathroom door and Derek opened it, letting the steam rush from the room as he looked up and down over Stiles' form. Derek tensed his jaw at the sight of him; his hair was messy and his fringe hung over his forehead without the wax to keep it up, and he wore long pajama bottoms that hung to the floor, paired with a soft looking hoodie. 

Stiles ran his eyes over Derek's chest before looking back up to meet his eyes. “Morning,” he said with a smile, scratching at his stomach. “Mind if I use the bathroom, big guy?” 

Derek shook his head no, not trusting his voice to refrain from doing something embarrassing like squeaking or lodging his words in his throat. He ducked around Stiles, leaving him to the bathroom and locking himself in his own room, rubbing his index finger and thumb over his eyes while mentally kicking himself for wanting to tackle Stiles to the floor right then and there in his childhood home, his parents and Stiles' boyfriend be damned. 

Eventually Derek made it downstairs and served himself customary after-Christmas pie for breakfast. Logan was already at the table, finishing off his second slice when Stiles walked in. “So, what are the plans for New Year's Eve?” he prompted. 

“Mom and Dad always go out to Colorado to visit Mom's family. Laura will probably go with them since we all know Colorado is code for getting drunk on an alcohol blend their local witch learned to brew. Other than that, Derek and I will probably sit up on the rooftop and watch the fireworks. What about you?” Logan asked. 

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you two wanted to come to a party. Lydia is hosting it at her house and Scott totally got an invite from Allison, but it's usually pretty open-ended. Wanna come?” 

Derek mumbled an “I don't know,” at the same time Logan smiled and said, “Yeah! We'll be there!” Derek gave his brother a sidelong glare which Logan either didn't notice or learned not to care about, giving Stiles a thumbs up and stealing a bite of his pie. 

***** 

Music blared through the sound system within Lydia Martin's house and Derek had to widen his jaw a few times in order to get his ears to pop. His auditory senses were always the hardest to adjust, especially when it came to loud noises. The Hale brothers told Stiles they’d meet him there, but now Derek was wishing he’d just carpooled. There must have been over 200 sweaty teenagers dancing and passing along drinks throughout the house, a mix of people Derek recognized from school and just as many people he’d never seen in his life. There was a television in almost every room broadcasting the Times Square ball drop, cheery newscasters and hosts reminiscing about the year. 

“Logan! Derek!” Scott shouted over the noise, waving them over to where he was standing with a pretty brunette girl, who must’ve been Allison with the way she was draping herself over him. They made their way over when Stiles came into view, his left hand linked tightly with another guy’s, dragging him over to Scott. Derek steeled himself, and Logan shot him a pitying look before shooting a smile at Scott. 

He knew, realistically, that it was inevitable that he would have to meet him, but he thought he’d have some time to prepare. Psych himself up and possibly make an excuse to get out of it. Instead, his pace started back up again and he was face to face with a slew of people who ranged from nervous to blissfully unaware of how completely uncomfortable the situation was. Okay. You can do this. Be the bigger man.

Beaming his award winning smile, he extended his arm out to him, “Hi, I’m Derek.” There. See, he could be a people person when he had to be.

Jason’s eyebrows rose, but he took the offered hand, and if Derek squeezed a little too tightly as they shook, he didn’t show it. “Right, yeah, I’ve heard about you. I’m Jason.” 

Derek took the opportunity to size the guy up. He had dusty blonde hair, cut short and accentuating his high cheek bones. The guy was lean but muscular; his swim training apparent in the build of his body, with broad shoulders and an easy smile that looked like it came naturally to him. Jason was everything that Derek wasn’t; while Jason exuded ease and a charm to make the masses melt to the floor, Derek was inauspicious and had a personality that took getting used to, and even then, it didn’t leave much to be desired. He looked like he walked right off an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog, and the thought made Derek sneer. He was cookie cutter handsome and Derek wanted to squish him like a bug. 

Breathing in deeply, he realized with a start that his scent was what had been lingering on Stiles’ person. The scent of Polo Black layered over a scent that could only be described as “Jason & Stiles” made Derek practically snatch his hand away. His eyes darted toward his friends, noting the way Scott stood by as if preparing himself to break up a fight. Looking back toward Stiles’ boyfriend, he noticed that the guy seemed to be sizing him up just the same. Derek wondered briefly if the look in the guy’s eye was of fear, or if it was a challenge. 

“Okay!” Stiles yelled, partly due to the volume of the music, and partly due to the fact that he was well on his way to drunk. He looked nervous, like he also thought that Derek would just lunge over and snap the guy’s neck any moment now. Rolling his eyes, Derek took an exaggerated step back, and let Stiles inch his way between the two. “Great, well, this is Logan,” he said toward Jason, pointing behind himself at Logan whose face flashed confusion before waving slightly. “And now everyone knows everyone! Fantastic. Okay, so, I hope you guys enjoy the party. Sorry about the whole, not being able to get drunk thing because, uh, driving? But there’s food and stuff, and it’s a party! So, you know, go be merry!” 

Stiles grabbed at Jason’s wrist and pulled him away, quickly leaving the other four behind. Allison tried to smile to ease whatever tension was hanging over the group, but let it fall when Derek about-faced and walked away. There were still two hours left until midnight and there was no way he was doing this sober. He went outside to his car, rummaging through the glove compartment before finding his flask. He kept it there for emergencies, and right about now seemed like the perfect time to empty it. His parents had brought home the alcohol blend last year after their visit to the Castillo’s. Unscrewing the top, he took a long gulp of the mixture, feeling it burn down his throat and hum through his body. 

Another gulp down and he headed back to the house. He sat himself down on the bottom steps of the stairs, taking pulls from the flask, closing his eyes as they flared with color. Already, he could feel the alcohol blend taking over his body, relaxing his muscles and leaving his brain slightly muddy. Lack of experience made him a bit of a lightweight, but still he took drink after drink, trying to keep the sips small so that he wouldn’t waste it all within the first 30 minutes. 

Time passed slowly, and he was kicked and shoved by people trying to get up and down the stairs, but he wasn’t going to move. He spun the ring he still wore, eyes kept scanning through the crowd, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop staring whenever he landed on Stiles, who was laughing with his entire body and alternating between letting his hands fall on Jason’s hips as they danced, or turning around and wrapping a hand behind Jason’s neck as his back lined up with Jason’s front. 

It was a sick kind of torture, but Derek couldn’t tear his eyes away from the movements of Stiles’ body as they rocked together. Gone were his awkward dance moves from the graduation party. This was a Stiles who knew exactly what he was doing, who dragged his ass over his boyfriend’s crotch whenever Jason would bend down to whisper something in his ear. Derek felt sick. Jealousy burned under his skin and all he wanted to do was run over there and replace Jason’s body with his own. He wanted to turn Stiles so they faced each other and rock their hips together as Derek bit down on the juncture between Stiles’ jaw and neck, marking him and showing the world that Stiles belonged to him. 

The countdown toward midnight came out of nowhere, snapping Derek back to reality when a roar of voices shouted “10, 9, 8, 7...!” He stood, getting whatever view of the television he could, the voices around him growing in excitement as they shouted “3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!” The partygoers jumped around, a few of them releasing poppers into the air, the smoke and small streamers getting caught in their hair through the mass of the crowd. He saw Scott and Allison, embraced in a kiss, and he smiled at how happy Scott looked. He looked so in love, and Derek wouldn’t mind having another girl in the Pack. 

His momentary happiness for Scott was overshadowed by the bile rising up in his throat when he zeroed in on Stiles, lips locked with Jason, the slight pink of their tongues as they slid together making Derek want to puke. He watched as Jason mouthed “I love you” and Stiles mouthed back “I love you, too.” He smiled into the kiss, the edges of his eyes crinkling with happiness, and Derek realized with a suddenness that ran through his whole body that he couldn’t do this anymore. His chest constricted with the heaviness settling over it, and suddenly the room was too loud, the air was too thick. He needed to get out of there, out of that house, and away from Stiles. He fumbled with his keys as he headed toward the door, Logan catching him by the arm with an intense look before stealing the keys away from him and leading him outside. 

They drove in silence; Derek sat in the passenger’s seat with his head slumped against the window. It had been a very long time since he last cried. Probably when he was 12 and had been learning how to jump from heights properly. He had jumped off of a particularly high branch in a particularly high tree and his leg had snapped to the left while the rest of it was bent the other way. Pain had shot up his leg like fire, and even though it healed pretty quickly, it still hurt like a motherfucker. But that had been physical pain, and the tears had been his body’s natural reaction. 

Emotional pain, though, was an entirely different species. It clawed its way from Derek’s mind and straight to his heart, tearing away at his insides until all he was was a blackened pit. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Logan said into the silence of the car. Derek rolled his head to stare blankly at his brother, who glanced at him once before looking back toward the road. “I’ve watched you be in love with Stiles for almost three years, now. For a long time, I really thought that you were just playing it calm, letting the relationship grow naturally. But then a year came and went, and then you didn’t ask him to your senior prom, and you didn’t admit to anything even though you had a world of opportunities to. You let him get away, and now he has a boyfriend who clearly cares about him, but still, you’re the same Derek Hale. Always too damn scared to get what he wants, but still feeling the need to possess what isn’t his. I just think… I just think you need to give it up, Derek.” Logan spoke like the words were something he had wanted to say for ages, but it didn’t make it easier for him to say. “You need to let Stiles go, Derek. You had your chance. Two years of them, and you didn’t take them. Now Stiles has someone who did. He has someone who took the step forward and chose to be with him. And you can’t keep getting angry and turn into a jealous mess just because someone who isn’t you is making Stiles happy. Look, you love Stiles right?” 

“Yes.” His answer was immediate, because for everything that was confused and messed up in his mind, that was something he always knew would be true. 

“Then if you love him, you need to let him go. He’s scared that his best friend won’t accept his boyfriend, and it’s noticeably holding him back. You need to let him know that it’s okay, and then you need to let him go.” It had been years since Derek had last cried, but in the safety of the car with only his brother as his witness, he let himself break. 

*****

To: Stiles Stilinski (2:38 am)
Jason seems like a great guy. You seem happy. I’m so glad that he makes you happy, Stiles. Have a great New Year.

*****

Second semester went by like the first, just with a slightly different lineup of classes and the promise of warmer weather as they days passed by. Kyle had convinced him to join up in a spring club with him, and they both agreed that fencing was ten times better than yoga or swimming. It was nice, actually, both spending time with Kyle and doing something other than being cooped up in his room studying or sleeping. The physical exercise used in fencing helped him release his pent up energy, and he was actually pretty good at it. The rented equipment was awful, but he gritted his teeth and bore it.

The classes themselves were slightly more brutal than the semester before, but that just let him immerse himself in studying, pushing whatever thoughts of Beacon Hills and certain people from his mind. He hadn’t visited at all during the semester. He chose instead to run through the empty lot on full moons and anchor himself to his family from a distance. He didn’t want to admit to himself that anchoring to his family wasn’t as strong as his old anchor used to be, because thinking down that path was poison and he couldn’t let himself take part in it. 

Much too soon, though, his freshman year of college was over. Kyle had moved out of the dorm a week before since his finals ended earlier, and they had made vague promises to keep in touch, but Derek knew that would probably never happen. It’s funny how you can live with someone for a year but think nothing of them when they aren’t around. Nolan had driven to Sacramento by himself, helping Derek pack up and load everything into the two cars before parting to drive back to Beacon Hills separately. It was strange how distant Derek felt from his family, but he supposed it was his own fault. 

He just couldn’t go back for weekends. He couldn’t be there knowing that somewhere in the small town, Stiles was probably with his boyfriend, having a life without Derek like it was the easiest thing in the world. And it probably was. Stiles had given up trying to contact him after only two weeks, and that alone nearly killed Derek. Was he really that easy to forget? 

As much as he didn’t want to be around Stiles, couldn’t be around him, he did still feel the need to be around Scott. Graduation was on its way, and he would be hard pressed to miss his honorary brother graduate. Derek would have to just suck it up and take whatever awkwardness would come with it. 

It was a Thursday afternoon in June when Derek piled into the family seating with his parents and Logan, keeping close to Mrs. McCall and Sheriff Stilinski. Over the years, both of the parents had become friends of the family, but with the Sheriff so near, smelling faintly of Stiles under his own musk, Derek couldn’t help but want to be as far away from them as possible. Still, he tried to remain polite, simply choosing the seat furthest from the Sheriff and latching onto the scent of his own mother, his Alpha’s presence keeping him from bolting out of there and running all the way back home. 

Graduations always seem about three times longer and five times slower when you’re in the audience as opposed to when it’s happening to you. The seniors paraded themselves to their seats, Scott taking the opportunity to wave largely toward his family as he passed by. Derek had to swallow down the sense of pride he got when Stiles, fitted in a white robe as opposed to the standard red, signifying him as the Salutatorian, took his seat near the podium. He looked so much older, then, looking more like a man than the boy Derek was used to. After the radio silence from the past five months, looking at Stiles now made the walls inside of him want to collapse. 

Logan’s hand squeezed Derek’s forearm, grounding him and Derek focused, bringing the walls back up until he was calm again, his jaw firm and his eyes guarded. He clapped when appropriate and feigned nonchalance as Stiles stepped up to the podium. 

“I debated standing up here and just reciting the speech from Independence Day but figured, nah, that’s weird. Who would do something like that?” An indignant “hey!” came from the teacher’s section, and Stiles smiled dopily. “Oh, oops. Then I thought, well, what does a good graduation speech consist of? I mean, I could stand up here and tell you about how much my family has meant to me throughout this whole journey of school, from my dad holding my hand as he walked me to kindergarten, to him tugging on my wrist as he picked me up from the Principal’s office when I barely dodged detention. I could talk about the friends I made, like Scott who’s been there since day one when he tried to convince me that orange Play-doh really did taste like oranges and was the only one that didn’t laugh when I yacked all over the Reading Rug. 

“Like Logan, and Jason, and Derek, who looked past my hyperactive tendencies and saw something in me worth being around. I could talk about how the things I learned in high school, inside and outside of its hallowed halls, were some of the most important lessons that I’ll gain in my life and that I will well and truly miss walking down the halls of Beacon Hills High, tripping down the stairs and chanting ‘really, you’re gonna walk that slow?’ like it’s a daily mantra. But no, I don’t think I’ll do that. Way too cheesy. Then I thought, well, how about some inspirational quotes? They’re always a crowd pleaser,” he said, sarcasm dripping through the words. 

“Why don’t we start with something my good friend Albert Einstein once said? ‘Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school.’ Hmm, now that doesn’t sound like something I should quote in front of my teachers. It just doesn’t seem appropriate. True? Yes. Appropriate? No. Okay, how about, ooh and this one is pretty original, ‘Do not follow where the path may lead. Go, instead, where there is no path, and leave a trail.’ Man, I’ve only ever heard that one 800 times.” That earned him a polite laugh. 

“Huh, tough crowd. Okay, I’ll wrap this up. High school was very best-of-times, worst-of-times. So much better than the horrors of middle school, and we should all be so thankful that we had pretty brilliant teachers to help us along the way, whether they were the ones in class, or the ones at home who helped us day in and day out. We all had support groups who got us through the worst of times and celebrated during the best. So, thank you, Beacon Hills High. I promise I’ll only say wonderful things about you after we’ve parted ways.” With a smile, Stiles gave a small salute and left the podium, earning a small applause for his efforts before Lydia Martin took control of the mic. 

The rest of the graduation seemed to move by a little quicker, when finally the names “Scott McCall!” and “Stiles Stilinski!” were called. Derek wondered how Stiles managed to get the announcer to call him by his nickname rather than the mandatory legal first name. He assumed it was because, like most of the population of Beacon Hills, they had simply forgotten that “Stiles” wasn’t actually his name. 

He followed his parents out to the parking lot after the ceremony to wait for the graduates. Scott and Stiles came out with smiles plastered on their faces, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, jostling their hats and chords around their necks. Derek didn’t get a chord since he wasn’t on any teams or in any clubs in school, but he noticed that Scott proudly wore the one he earned from lacrosse while Stiles had a myriad of colors that Derek couldn’t discern one from the other. The boys whooped loudly as they neared the group consisting of their parents and the Hales, embracing everyone and smiling at the vigorous snapping of pictures. 

Scott pulled Derek into a huge hug, which Derek returned tenfold. “Congratulations, Scott.” He mussed the boy’s dark hair, earning him a small pout that dissolved into a slack grin. 

“Thanks. Oh, hey! Allison!” Scott ran off like Derek hadn’t even been there, sliding over to grab Allison by the waist and hoist her up in the air. The girl squealed as he spun them, her parents standing back looking terrifying. A shudder ran down Derek’s back, but he brushed it off. He turned back to face the group and collided with another body. Stiles’ eyes grew wide and Derek wished shame upon anyone who believed they were just brown.

The June heat left the air muggy, and the cap and gown must’ve been hot because sweat shined on Stiles’ brow, his face flushed pink. “Der… ek. Derek, hey!” Derek raised his hand up to brush at the color on Stiles’ cheeks, but he caught himself halfway, rubbing it along the back of his own neck in embarrassment. What the hell was that, hand?

“Uh…” Smooth, Derek, smooth. “N- nice speech. It was very… you.” 

Stiles raised a brow. “Very me?” he questioned. Derek dropped his hand and breathed. Stiles’ scent was everywhere and he was drowning in it. He needed to get out of there. He never wanted to leave. 

“Sorry. I mean, your speech was great. Congrats on the whole ‘Salutatorian’ thing.” 

“Right. Thanks,” he replied, frowning slightly. “So, I never got to tell you. I got in to Berkeley. I tried to call you, but…” Stiles gave a half smile like he was scared that Derek didn’t care. 

He steeled himself then reached out to pull Stiles to his chest. The hug was quick, but he couldn’t let Stiles think he didn’t care that his dreams had literally come true and that Derek missed it. “That’s great, Stiles. Good luck in college.” 

A flash of hurt crossed Stiles face before he nodded stiffly and walked away. Derek wanted to pull him back, wanted to hold him and gush about how he knew that Stiles was going to be fantastic at Berkeley and how they would’ve been idiots to not let him in. His fingers twitched toward the boy, but through the sweat and mix of bodies in the crowd, he found Jason and knew he was coming their way. Derek stuffed his hands deep in the pockets of his dress pants to hide his growing claws and left, barely letting Logan know he was going before getting into his car. 

There must’ve been some kind of party for Stiles and Scott, but Derek wouldn’t know. He drove out and away from Beacon Hills toward a stretch of land by the lake that the Hales would go to during vacations when Derek was in elementary school. He let himself wolf out completely, fangs elongated and he felt completely primal, delighting in the way that his mind focused solely on running and nothing more. He ran for hours, pushing himself to exhaustion before he let himself return to human form. He lay on the soft grass and listened to the sounds of the birds calling in the trees, wishing for all the world that he could just become a real wolf and never have to deal with the pains that came with his humanity. 

*****

Derek would go to the grave adamant that Laura and Logan’s entire life’s goal was to make Derek’s life miserable. As soon as Laura returned from New York in the middle of June, it was like they were playing Keep Away where the ball was all of the days of summer he could spend relaxing and molding himself to be one with the couch, and Derek was the poor bastard running between the two of them to catch it. Laura had dragged him along on every errand she ran and to every party she attended, from house parties to dinner parties where he had to firmly state that, no, he was her brother, not her date. 

But that was nothing compared to Logan who figured that Derek needed to get out with other people, namely anyone who looked Derek over like they wanted to get all up on that. Derek would agree to the date, and usually they were pretty nice. A few of them he would even kiss, and mostly he would enjoy it. But he never dated anyone more than once and even went so far as to pretend he didn’t recognize one of the girls when he bumped into her at the grocery store. They were distractions, nothing more. 

Sometimes Scott would come over and those days were the best. Logan was always distracted by having his best friend around, and Laura didn’t think to leave the house when he was there, choosing instead to take part of the moonlit runs they would take. He expected some sort of disconnect from Scott whose fierce loyalty toward Stiles should have led him astray, but for whatever reason, Scott still came around, laying himself down by Derek while they rested and joking with him like there wasn’t a reason not to. He couldn’t smell Stiles on him, though. There was only the strong scent of one Ms. Allison Argent over his skin and every single shirt he owned. 

August came and Derek made his move back to Sacramento, this time moving into the upper-classmen dormitories. He drove himself up to the campus, promising his parents that he would be perfectly fine unpacking his car by himself. He was 20 years old now; he could fit some sheets onto a mattress for Christ’s sake. 

His new roommate was a guy named Vernon – who insisted on being called “Boyd” – with dark skin and a body built like a house. The guy was quiet and reserved and had apparently lived in Oakland since he was 13 after leaving Beacon Hills. Derek was surprised that another student here was from Beacon Hills, let alone his roommate. He figured that was how they got roomed together in the first place, though. The college liked to stick people together with similar interests. 

They shared the suite with two other guys named Chris and Donovan, but the most Derek would see of either of them was when one would be in the kitchen as he left out the door. 

He continued taking art classes, choosing a course on Native American Art, along with his required gen-ed classes. Derek decided on taking an introduction course to “Stars, Galaxies, and Cosmology,” with his basic biology, philosophy, and anthropology classes. Electing to take the “Magic, Witchcraft & Religion” course began as pure interest on what was actually real and what was smoke and mirrors, but it turned out to blow Derek’s mind with how much humans seemed to really know about werewolves and their culture, but wrote it off as “unexplained phenomena".

The months passed and Derek was fine. The dull ache that settled in his chest never ceased, but he did learn to live with it, accepting long ago that it would always just be a part of him, the part that had lost what had anchored him to humanity and now he was simply floating from thought to thought, hoping one would come along that was powerful enough to make him feel whole. But until that moment came, Derek drifted, going from his dorm to class, back to his dorm, to the library, and to his dorm once again. Boyd seemed to be doing the same, and it was comforting to know that he was making a real friend whom he didn’t have to exert or change himself to hang around. 

Boyd would make a great wolf. He had a great head on his shoulders and a power within his body that was being wasted on merely running around in a gym. 

The cool October air changed into cold November, so Derek shrugged on his leather jacket like it was a second skin, both thankful and mildly devastated that it only smelled of him without a trace of the Pack or…

Don’t go down that road.

It was a Tuesday and Derek was running to class, cursing himself for sleeping in late. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, but he really didn't have time to pick it up. Whoever it was could leave a message, because if Derek was late again it would mark 10% off of his participation grade. Usually, he didn't care much either way, but this bio class was tough as shit and he really didn't need something completely avoidable be the reason his grade dropped from an A to a B. So he let the phone buzz and after the sixth ring it stopped, the call going to voice-mail. He dodged and weaved through a group of students leaving their classroom, and he was literally fifteen feet away from his class when his phone rang again.

Derek swore, pulling the phone out and answered it. This had better be important. “Hello?” he bit out.

“...Derek?” He stopped so suddenly at the barely-there whisper of a voice that a small girl ran right into him and her books went flying out of her hand. He spun around and went to pick up the books, but she was already huffing and picking them up herself, shooting him a terribly dirty look before taking off up a flight of stairs.

“Stiles? What's going on? Are you – are you crying?” Derek sat down on the bench, his class now completely forgotten as he listened to Stiles' movements over the phone. The boy sighed heavily between sniffs, like his chest was heaving as it tried to calm his body down. Stiles coughed wetly and Derek gripped at his phone. He was never good with other people's emotions, especially when they cried. At least in person he could give a sympathetic pat on the shoulder or, if he dared, could sling his arm around them as they sobbed. Over the phone, though, he was left only with his words.

“Stiles, please, tell me what happened. Did you get hurt? Did someone else get hurt? Please, Stiles.” Derek was begging, but he couldn't think to be embarrassed by it. Images of the Sheriff in the hospital overtook his mind, quickly followed by horrifying images of Stiles in the hospital. Naturally, he knew that if it were Stiles, he wouldn't be the one to call.

“He- he- oh, my God. I can't bre- Derek, I can't breathe!” Stiles panted heavily and Derek pushed the earpiece of his phone tighter to his ear, as if the milometer of space made any difference.

“Okay, shh, you're okay. Shh, c'mon, breathe with me, alright? Breathe in slowly. 1, 2, 3... and back out. 1, 2, 3... and in...” he continued, urging Stiles to match up his breaths with the slow tempo until, after almost a minute of in-and-outs, he calmed once again. “You okay?”

“Mmhm.” There was a heavy pause and Derek had to check that the line hadn't dropped. “He... he broke up with me,” Stiles admitted, his voice tinny through the speaker and small in a way that Derek hated to associate with Stiles. Derek saw red, his entire body tensing and thrumming with the need to fight, to tear that motherfucker apart limb by limb.

“That fucking bastard. Who the fuck does he think he is?” Derek was yelling, but there was no one in the hallway, but a distant part of his brain told him that the sound would carry clearly into the classrooms. He stormed out of the building, stomping across the grass and back to his dorm, phone still held tightly to his ear.

“It's not his fault.” Stiles' voice was so broken and Derek wanted to drive his ass out to Berkeley and beat that Jason kid into a pulp.

“Like hell it's not his fault! What, does he think he'll ever do better than you? Does he think that there's even a chance that there's someone out there in the world more perfect than you? He's a fucking moron!” Forgoing any semblance of politeness, Derek shoved his way through the small groups of people heading toward the dining hall and passed the buildings, already making his way to his car.

He realized that neither he nor Stiles had spoken in a few minutes, and Derek could hear the faint beating of Stiles' heart over the line. He threw his backpack across the driver's seat and into the passenger's before sliding into the car himself, jamming the keys into the ignition.

“Stiles? Are you still there?”

Five seconds passed before, “Yeah. 'm here.”

“Hey, look, I'm gonna come out there and see you. You shouldn't be alone right now." I need to be with you right now. "Is that okay?"

He heard Stiles give a watery laugh before he said, "I'm in the Clark Kerr Campus. That's what the dorm is called."

Derek nodded. “Sit tight. I'll be there soon.” He hung up the call and pulled out of the parking garage, breaking about 90 driving laws in his haste to get down to the college, the hour and a half drive taking him a little under the hour to make. He had punched the dorm's name into his navigation on his phone and it had taken him to a mission styled building. It was pretty weird for a dorm, but he didn't let himself dwell. 

There was a bored looking guy running the front desk of the dormitory that raised an eyebrow at Derek but otherwise said much of nothing as he passed by. He pressed the speed dial to Stiles' phone number and waited. 

“That was fast,” he mumbled. 

“Hey, what room are you in?” Stiles directed Derek through the halls until he finally made it to Stiles' door, knocking due to habit even though they were still on the call. Stiles opened the door, his own cellphone pressed to his ear and they let themselves stare. Stiles was wearing heather gray sweatpants and an oversized hoodie he got from Disneyland a few years back. His eyes were rimmed red from the shed tears and his face was splotchy. The wax in his hair made it lean sideways, and he was still the most beautiful person Derek had ever seen. 

“Hi.” Derek's voice echoed through Stiles' phone and into his own before he realized they were both standing there on the phone with each other in the same room. He quickly pressed “end” and shoved it in his pocket before scooping Stiles up into a hug, lifting him only slightly from the ground before setting him back down. Stiles shut the door behind him and Derek took the opportunity to look around Stiles' half of the room. He had tacked up posters of bands Derek had never heard of, some he recognized from Stiles' room back at home. 

His bookshelf was half books, half nonperishable foods like macaroni and cheese and several small, individually packed boxes of cereal. His bed was messy and the sheets were new, and his clothing was scattered haphazardly by his laundry basket. Whoever his roommate was wasn't much different on the cleanliness scale. 

“Nice room,” he commented before Stiles wrapped himself back around Derek, hugging him close to his body, his breath hot on Derek's neck. The one thing he always forgot was that Stiles was his height, if not almost taller. Derek let his nose nuzzle into Stiles' neck, breathing him in deeply, the urge to kiss the pale skin a fervent need. Suddenly, it didn't matter that they hadn't properly talked to one another since Christmas. Every reservation Derek had built up came crumbling down the second Stiles had said his name, so quiet and broken over the phone. 

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered into his neck, and a chill ran down Derek's body. He pulled back and their faces were inches apart, Stiles' golden hued eyes boring into his own. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him. To take what he's wanted more than anything for years. It would be so easy. And that was why he couldn't do it. No matter how much he wanted it, and no matter how much he could pray and hope that the look in Stiles' eyes matched what he was feeling, he could never be that selfish. Instead, he carded his fingers though Stiles hair and smiled, pulling him toward the bed.

Stiles stumbled as he was pulled, but righted himself in time to lie down next to Derek, both of them looking at each other but neither daring to say a word. Stiles turned his body over, grabbing Derek's hand and draping his arm across his own waist, Derek's front pressed closely to Stiles' back. They twined their hands together, reminiscent of the times when Stiles would do this before, and traced his finger over Derek's knuckle. 

It was barely three o'clock but Derek found his eyes drooping, Stiles' even puffs of breath sedating him. He pressed his nose to Stiles' hairline, breathing in and cherishing the scent of home that he found there. He allowed himself to press a brief kiss to the back of Stiles' neck, unsure if the sigh he heard from the boy was due to sleep or not. 

*****

When Derek woke, he first realized that he was definitely not in his own bed, and that it was dark in the room. The combination of the midday nap and waking up in a strange room disoriented him for a moment until he felt the end of the bed dip, Stiles smiling shyly at him by the glow of his computer.

“Morning,” Stiles said into the darkness. Derek smiled and pushed himself onto his elbows.

“Ugh, what time is it?” he asked, digging into his pocket for his phone. The screen was too bright, and he had to squint to read. 10:21 pm. “Shit. When did you wake up?”

“About half an hour ago. You weren't asleep much longer than me, don't worry.” Derek nodded and hoisted himself out of the bed to stand between Stiles' legs which were draped over the side and kicking into the air. 

“How are you feeling?” he had to ask. As much as he didn't want to bring it up, the longer they dragged it out, the worse it would be. 

Stiles shrugged. “Weird. It's like half of me is waiting for him to knock on the door and tell me he loves me, and the other half knows that it's been a long time coming. Like, I knew it was coming, but expecting it and having it actually happen are two totally and completely different things.” He shrugged again, looking down at the socks on his feet. 

“You were expecting it?” 

“Mmhm. Yeah. Ever since we got to college it was like we were suddenly two different people. He told me I was distracted and that he knew where my mind was wandering whenever we were together. And I guess he was right, I just never thought…” He trailed off and nudged Derek's legs away with his foot before hopping down off the raised bed. “No. I don't want to talk about this. Not now. Let's go get food or something, c'mon.”

“Stiles, it's like 11 o'clock. Is anything even still open?” 

Stiles paused by the door. ”Err, Taco Bell? I think that closes at like, 1. We've got time. Please?” 

They went through the drive-thru and ordered their food, both of them devouring the processed beef and cheese like it was the last meal they'd ever have. Stiles chewed on the straw of his drink and pushed his seat back all the way before propping his feet on the dash. He looked at Derek with a “well, you, too” and Derek shook his head but did it anyway, his feet placed next to Stiles'. They didn't talk about why Derek hadn't called in over 11 months, or speak a word about Jason. 

Instead, they shot the shit, talking about their classes in school, life in their respective dorms, and whatever movies they had watched recently. Derek mentioned that he was in the fencing club, and Stiles laughed for twenty minutes, making every saber-related dick joke under the sun. It was too dark to show Derek around the campus so they opted to sit in the dorm's lounge, neither wanting to go back up to Stiles' room and bother his roommate. Around 4 am, Stiles began to grow tired again, and he ushered them both back to his dorm, checking Derek in at the counter because he was an “over-night guest.” 

The sleeping figure of Stiles' roommate, an English boy named Isaac, kept Derek and Stiles whispering, giggling in an effort to stay quiet, the tiredness taking over. Derek borrowed a pair of sweats from Stiles, and opted to just sleep without a shirt. Stiles kicked his own sweatpants off and lay down on the bed in his shirt and boxers. Derek thanked whoever was watching over him that he didn't have to sleep next to Stiles while the boy was in boxer briefs because, with the way they spooned, it would have gotten very awkward very fast.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke with a start, Stiles' head pillowed on his chest and Derek's hand was combed through the light brown hair, still sticky with wax. He looked over to Isaac's and found the guy eating cereal with his laptop settled on his lap, looking like he blissfully didn't care what Stiles was up to. Good man, keeping his nose in his own business. 

Looking at his phone for the time, the screen read 9:27 am, meaning that he was about to miss his Anthropology lecture at 10. He couldn't be bothered to care when he had Stiles wrapped around him, but he did silently mourn the loss of intelligible notes, knowing he'd have to either bum notes off of a classmate or make heads or tails of the PowerPoint his professor put up online. 

He must have jostled Stiles as he grabbed his phone because the boy was stirring awake, blinking up blearily at Derek's face, a smile playing at his lips. There was just something so inherently right about the way their bodies curved into one another.

“Morning,” Isaac interrupted, and Derek took his previous compliment back. The smirk Isaac wore was completely evil and meddling, reminding Derek a lot of Peter. 

“Ugh, early,” Stiles whined, drawing out the syllables as he stretched. He relaxed back down onto Derek's chest for a moment before springing up. “Dude! Why are you still here? Don't you have class?” 

Derek rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, but I also have a dope of a best friend who needed me and that totally outweighed the consequences of missing a couple classes. The professors will buy that I was sick, Stiles. It's fine.” 

“Oh, good. Then we can get coffee before I send you back on your merry way.” Stiles all but rolled out of the bed, limbs flailing as he tumbled out and onto the floor. “'m okay,” he mumbled before digging through his drawers to find clothes to wear. “Shit, I don't have anything of yours that you can wear. Well, I have your BHHS gym shirt, but I highly doubt you want to wear that in public.” 

Derek frowned, eyebrows creasing. “Why do you have that?” 

“Huh? Oh! Uh, no... No reason. You must have, uh... left it at my house or I must have picked it up by mistake and then accidentally packed it away in my suitcase when I left for college?” He phrased it at a question, Isaac snorting a laugh from the other side of the room. “Anyway, do you want to wear it or not?” 

“I'll just wear my shirt from yesterday. Go ahead and keep the gym shirt.” 

“Good, 'cause I wasn't giving it back.” Stiles stuck out his tongue and changed his clothes. Derek lugged himself out of the bed and did the same, turning his head over his shoulder and finding Stiles staring. And behind him, Isaac was staring, too. 

The coffee wasn't too bad, but Derek was far from a connoisseur. He couldn't tell you the difference between a McDonald's, Starbucks, or an all-organic cup of coffee if it bopped him on the nose. They carried their drinks out with them, Stiles deciding that he would show Derek around before he left. They walked through Stiles' class schedule, darting back and forth between buildings. Stiles pointed out the student center and library, admitting that he didn't really know what 90% of the buildings on campus were actually used for. 

At one point as they were headed back to the parking lot where Derek had left his car, Stiles had taken a detour, pointedly avoiding another dorm hall. Jason must live there, he thought to himself, and then had to use every bit of will power he had not to march in there and seek the guy out just to punch him in the face. Stiles seemed okay, though, for the most part, so Derek let it be. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how satisfying the crunch of the guy's cartilage under Derek's fist would sound as his nose broke. 

Derek pulled his keys out of his pocket, twirling them on his finger by the key ring. He opened his door but didn't get in, choosing instead to turn and face Stiles who was crowding into his space. There was the closeness again, but this time there wasn't the looming cloud of sadness over them. “Drive safely,” was all Stiles said. His hand moved of its own volition, and Derek reached out to cup Stiles' cheek, caressing the cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. 

“Take care of yourself,” he whispered, wanting to close the distance between their lips. Stiles' tongue darted out quickly, wetting them, and Derek couldn't help but track the movement. He was still absently stroking with his thumb, his pulse pounding in his throat and chest. “I'll call you when I get back to my dorm.” Derek bit his lip as he dropped his hand, turning away and closing the car door behind him as he sat. Stiles stood outside the door, and Derek couldn't read the expression he found there.

Jesus, how fucking insensitive am I? he questioned, lifting up a hand to wave at Stiles before pulling out of the parking lot. He just broke up with his boyfriend and there I go caressing his damn face. He stopped at a red light and slammed his face into the steering wheel, looking around and seeing the horrified look of the driver next to him who rolled up their window but kept staring with wide eyes. Derek jutted his chin out and stared right back. He could slam his face into anything he damn well pleased, and no stranger was going to look at him like he was a circus act, thank you very much. 

*****

s.stilinski is online

The Skype tone rang and Derek pressed video chat even though he was in the middle of brushing his teeth. Two weeks had passed and things seemed to be going alright for Stiles. He didn't mention Jason once, for which Derek was grateful. He wasn't sure if it was good for Stiles to keep the conversation at bay, but he supposed that was where Scott's best friend card was cashed in. Derek squinted at the screen, confused when he didn't see the familiar background of Stiles' dorm but instead the inside of his jeep. 

“Dude, learn to pick up your damn phone! I called you like 20 times before trying Skype.” 

“S'rry. Erp, h'ld 'n.” The toothpaste foam was starting to dribble around his words so he went to spit it out in the sink and rinse out his mouth before going back to the computer. “Okay, sorry. My phone died and it's charging. I must not have turned on the ringer. What's up? Why are you driving?” 

“Well, this would have been about a thousand times better if you couldn't see that I was driving, but whatever, it's already done. Which dorm are you in?” 

“ARC. Uh, I mean, American River Courtyard. Shit, why?” 

“Gee, I wonder. See you in a bit!” The call ended and Derek stared at the screen that was prompting him to give his feedback on the quality of the call. He closed out of the box and looked down at himself. He was in a pair of ratty boxers and his senior class shirt that read “Beacon Hills Pride!” over the front in giant red letters. He nearly tipped his chair back with the speed in which he stood up, already ripping the shirt off and finding something that didn't make him look like he was trying to live the glory days of high school. He contemplated putting on jeans, but thought twice and grabbed a pair of basketball shorts. 

He was mussing his hair when there was a knock on the door. He looked at the clock that read 9:02 pm and wondered what the hell Stiles needed at 9 o'clock at night that he would drive to a different city for. He pulled open the door, expecting a happy or maybe tired looking Stiles. Instead, he was met with a scowl and a pointed finger that jabbed into his chest as Stiles pushed his way into the room. “You, Mr. Hale, had better start – wait, you have a kitchen? And a living room? What the fuck? No, wait, focus Stilinski. – You! It has been 16 days since you came to see me at Berkeley. 16 days since you grabbed my face and looked at me like I was some kind of fucking treasure only to leave me there, standing like an idiot in the parking lot. I figured, yeah, okay. He was being polite. He'll come around in a couple days, easy. Then a week passed. Then another, and are you fucking kidding me, Derek? I mean, what are we to you, hmm? And don't you dare say that we're just best friends because you do not hold your friend's hand the way you hold mine. You don't look at your friend like the sun shoots straight outta their ass with tiny birds flying around chirping love songs. Am I just that delusional that I think we're something more? Because I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind with this stupid game of cat and mouse we've got going on. So you either need to tell me flat out that there's nothing here or mmph!” 

He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly his lips were pressed to Stiles', mouths closed but hardly chaste. His hands cupped Stiles' cheeks as he pressed in closer before releasing him and taking a step back. He wanted more; the urge to crowd Stiles up onto the kitchen counter-top was driving him crazy, but he waited. He watched as Stiles touched his bottom lip with his index finger before looking up at Derek. 

“We’re everything, Stiles. You are everything.” He moved closer, hovering near but not touching. “I think about you and it’s like I can’t even breathe. The moment I saw you in the preserve it was like my whole world was black and white and you were the fireworks that colored the sky. I fell and I’ve never recovered. You devastate me with everything you do because, God, Stiles, there’s never going to be anyone else but you. You are my best friend, you always have been, but you’re right. It’s always been more.

“Then you got a boyfriend and it was like my whole world ended, and it was my fault because I was just so scared so I couldn’t just tell you how much I loved you. You were falling in love with someone else right before my eyes and I couldn’t handle it. But it was like I couldn’t help it, I needed you around in any way that I could have you. So I wear the jacket you bought me, I wear your mother’s ring because I know how much it means to you. I do everything I can to have you there with me and it hurts, Stiles. It was killing me to know that while I was here trailing after you like a damn dog, you were saying ‘I love you’ to another man. So I cut you off. I came back here to Sacramento and did everything I could to avoid you. I even stopped going home on full moons because I was terrified that you might be there and I would crumble all over again. So I built up resistance. I kept my distance. And then you called and it was like all of the months doing whatever I could to avoid you meant nothing.” Derek reached out and held onto the back of Stiles’ neck with one hand, the other gripped onto his side. “Stiles, I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything and it scares me because I didn’t even know it was possible to love another person so entirely.” 

This time, it was Stiles who made the first move, and Derek turned his body to face him head on. 

He peeked his eyes open for a moment, moaning at the sight of Stiles' eyelashes fluttered closed against the pale of his skin, so close and intimate. Derek captured Stiles' mouth with a hungry urgency, snaking his forearms behind Stiles' shoulders and crossing his hands behind Stiles' neck. Strong hands gripped tight to Derek's waist and his mouth parted open, Stiles taking the opportunity to dart his tongue inside, circling with Derek's, the wet heat of Stiles' breath intoxicating him. Derek walked backwards, still attached to Stiles as they moved toward the couch, Derek grabbing at Stiles' thighs to hoist him up before sitting down, draping Stiles over his lap as they kissed.

Stiles pulled away, panting. “He broke up with me because he knew that there was someone else. He told me that it didn’t matter how many times I said that I loved him, I never looked at him the way I look at you.” Stiles pressed quick kisses to Derek’s jaw. “And I knew it, too. I knew that it didn’t matter how long it took or who I was with, if you asked, I would’ve been yours in a heartbeat.” 

“Mmm, is that right?” Derek took over, pressing his own light kisses to the moles on Stiles’ cheeks. 

“Mmhm.” Stiles tilted his head back to give him more access. “All yours.” 

“All mine.” Stiles gasped and thread his fingers through Derek's hair as Derek made his way down the column of Stiles' throat. He sucked on the hollow of his collar bone before licking back up to the pulse point. Derek bit down with blunt human teeth, eliciting a moan from Stiles who bucked his hips slightly as the pressure on his neck grew. He sucked at the mark, the bruise starting to rise before he soothed it with his tongue. Stiles yanked on the back of Derek's head, guiding him back up to meet his lips.

They put everything they had into their kisses. Years of pent up attraction spent on the press of their mouths. Stiles pulled away first, panting as he nuzzled his face into Derek's throat, grinding his hips sporadically into Derek's. 

“Wait.” His voice came out scratchy and Stiles looked at him with panic. Derek eased the look with a light kiss, much softer than the ones they had just shared, but no less passionate. “Bedroom.” Stiles nodded, winding his arms around Derek's neck as he picked Stiles up, moving him through the dorm suite and onto the bed, eyes glowing at Stiles' whimper when Derek moved away from him to lock the door. 

Stiles leaned back onto his elbows, feet still planted on the floor with his legs spread open. His lips, bruised red and shining with spit, parted as he fixated on Derek who grabbed the back collar of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it somewhere to the side. He sauntered over to Stiles – yes, sauntered. And he was man enough to admit that he definitely let his hips sway more than usual – and carefully slotted his knee between his legs, right at the edge of the mattress. Bending down slowly, he planted both hands on either side of Stiles' body, leaning in fully to hover inches away from Stiles' face. He ducked in and let his lips nip the air as he teased the kiss, lips only gently brushing before he would pull away to hover again.

Derek lifted Stiles' left thigh to scoot him back just a little bit further onto the bed to get a better balance for himself. “Grabby,” Stiles thought aloud, his eyebrows quirking upwards. Derek ran his finger over the other boy's brow, following the line down the side of his face with his thumb before cradling his chin, pulling Stiles forward into the kiss. Stiles continued to prop himself up with one arm while the other curled around Derek's shoulders, hand splayed out and clutching to his skin. Derek felt blunt nails scratching down his back and he groaned at the feeling, the small crescent indents in his skin already healing but the bite of the pain still there.

Breaking the kiss, Stiles trailed after his lips. “Your shirt. Can I?”

“Oh, my God, yes. Yes, bad shirt. Very bad.” Stiles moved to unbutton the flannel but Derek batted his hands away, undoing the buttons slowly as his eyes locked onto Stiles'. “Dammit, Der,” he whispered, squirming as he tried to quicken the process, but Derek just whispered back with a “shh” and used one hand to hold on to Stiles', his palm placed over the back of Stiles' hand and their fingers twined and digging into the sheets. Finally he loosened the final button and pushed the green flannel off of the boys shoulder, groaning himself and hanging his head when he saw the undershirt.

“Oh, shut up. It was like 50 degrees outside, I was cold.” They released their hands to allow for Stiles to push the rest of the over shirt off, leaving any kind of teasing behind when Derek grabbed the hem of the undershirt and pulled it over his head, revealing a broad chest with just the tiniest amount of chest hair, moles dotted across his shoulders and down his inner arm. Darker hair trailed from just below his belly button and down passed his waistband, the muscles in his abdomen toned but not offensively so.

Derek stood, thankful that he didn't choose to wear the jeans, and pulled his shorts down. It wasn't a very sexy movement at all, but Stiles didn't seem to mind, his eyes trained on the very obvious bulge in his briefs, his dick noticeably hard and straining against the thin material. He was suddenly self-conscious and he wasn't even fully naked yet. This wasn't the first time Stiles or Derek had been mostly naked in front of each other, but usually there was the buffer of Scott or Logan there, changing their clothes, too. But this was different, because now it wasn't aborted glances and hurried movements to get out of and back into their clothing. Now it was long looks without the shame of getting caught. Now it was the appreciative bite of a lip as Stiles straightened himself, holding his hands out in front of him, prompting Derek to take them in his own.

“C'mere,” Stiles encouraged, taking Derek's hands and lacing their fingers together. With the way Derek stood before him, it would be very easy for Stiles to perv and take in his full. But instead, Stiles tilted his head and looked straight into his eyes. He tugged down lightly on Derek's arm and met him in a sweet kiss. Gone was the urgency from before. He had kissed other people before, and it wasn't like he was a blushing virgin or anything, but with Stiles it was different. He never cared about any of the others, let alone trust them the way Derek implicitly trusted Stiles.

Kissing him was different, too. He was wrapped up in the heady scent of Stiles and it was like he was everywhere, surrounding him and keeping him safe. Everything was just a little bit warmer, more intimate than he had ever experienced, and he wanted to do this right. He wanted to pour every ounce of love he had into the way their bodies moved together. He wanted to coax those breathy moans and sighs from within Stiles; he wanted more than anything for Stiles to feel just as safe as he made Derek feel.

Derek felt Stiles scrape his teeth along his bottom lip, and it thrilled him to the bone. Teeth shouldn't feel that good, he thought to himself as Stiles nibbled a moment more before pressing a soothing kiss to his lip and pulling away. Derek bent down so that he was seated on his own calves, knees on the floor and ran his hands along Stiles' side, running them along his ribcage and across his abdomen. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles' stomach, pressing more along the soft skin there, pausing at the patch of hair to lick a stripe up, going against the grain before dipping his tongue into his belly button. Stiles draped his hands over Derek's shoulders, petting through his hair, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he let Derek continue mapping out Stiles' body with his mouth.

He moved down, pressing a kiss to Stiles' covered knee before tugging off the boy's shoes, moving them off to the side and out of the way. Pulling his hands up, he rubbed at Stiles' outer thigh with one hand, asking in silent question for access as he dipped his finger under the waistband of Stiles' jeans. Stiles nodded and let Derek unbutton and zip down the fly, lifting himself off the bed slightly to allow him to pull the jeans down. He pulled Stiles' socks off next before letting himself stare. Stiles squirmed and Derek smiled softly, rising up until he was leveraged on his knees, kissing Stiles openly, still not used to the fact that this was something he could just do now.

The kiss grew fervent, Derek darting his tongue into Stiles' mouth with ease, his eyes closing as he just moved with Stiles until Stiles began to squirm again, this time his hips canting upwards to find any sort of friction.

“Are you sure?” he asked once more, brows raised in question but relaxing when Stiles let out a small laugh.

“Der, you've been giving me blue balls for over two years, you are not holding out on me now.”

Taking that as permission, he curled his fingers into the sides of Stiles' waistband, holding them there as he bent down to press a kiss to his still covered cock, mouthing along the outline before dragging the briefs down, Stiles' scent overwhelming him as he hurried to remove them for Stiles' legs. The scent was so dense there; everything about it so masculine and so very Stiles that Derek couldn't help but want to chase the scent, kissing along Stiles' inner thighs, holding his legs open by the knees as he moved forward. He'd never done this before and he couldn't help but let the nerves take over. Sure, he knew theoretically what he should do, but jacking off to porn and having a real, hardened cock in front of your face were two different monsters entirely.

He pressed a kiss to Stiles' hipbone, biting down quickly but not letting a mark show. Maybe later, when it's all about the passion and hurried movements, but this time it was about exploration. It was learning about Stiles' body and what makes him tick. He sucked the tip of Stiles' head into his mouth, tentatively at first until Stiles' heartbeat quickened, encouraging him to take more of Stiles in until his head passed Derek's lips. He let his tongue lick experimentally at the tip, let it swirl around and pull soft whimpers from Stiles' throat. Minding his teeth, he moved further along the shaft, slowly, letting his tongue tease the slit and sliding back off. He licked at his palm and held the base, licking up the shaft and tonguing at the vein before moving his hand up and down, taking the head back into his mouth.

Stiles thrusted slightly but held himself back, his breathing growing stronger as soft moans escaped. Derek slid his lips further down then back up, setting a rhythm with his hand, groaning when Stiles clutched his fingers through Derek's hair, tugging slightly as he held on. The vibrations must have sent something through Stiles because he gripped even tighter.

“Der, I'm gonna – I'm gonna co-” and Derek knew that now would be the time to pull off, stroke Stiles through his orgasm, but he couldn't let go. He needed to taste Stiles on his tongue and feel his cum down his throat. So he tongued at the slit, coaxing until Stiles came with a cut-off moan. He was bitter and slightly salty, but it was so purely Stiles that Derek's cock strained in his briefs, his need to take all of Stiles that he could so intense his eyes glowed with the need. Stiles' come spilled past his lips, though, and down to his chin. With a final lick to the too-sensitive head, Derek pulled off, dragging his thumb across his lip and sucking it into his mouth.

Stiles watched through hooded lids, his pupils blown as he watched Derek pull his finger slowly from his mouth. “Holy shit,” Stiles panted before capturing Derek's lips with his own, tongue searching through Derek's mouth to chase the taste that lingered there. Derek rose up to meet him and Stiles slowly scooted back farther onto the bed, still attached to Derek's lips as he sucked Derek's tongue into his mouth. He squeezed Derek's ass and tugged the back of his briefs down, palming at his cheek with one hand and cradling Derek's neck with the other.

Derek draped himself over Stiles' body, rutting his cock over Stiles' bare thigh. Stiles pulled the last remaining clothing off of Derek's legs and threw them somewhere on the floor before flipping their bodies over. Stiles hovered over Derek as he lay back on the bed. He licked at his palm generously, getting them slick with spit before circling his hand around Derek's dick, and ohjesuschrist no amount of masturbation could prepare him for the way it felt to have Stiles touching him, dragging his hand slowly up and down the shaft before thumbing at the head. Derek pulled him into a kiss, Stiles smiling briefly before leaning into it. His movements grew faster and Derek let his head thunk backwards onto the mattress at the feeling.

His orgasm was building embarrassingly quickly, the feeling pooling low in his abdomen as he arched his back slightly and came over Stiles' fist and onto Stiles' stomach. The translucent white on Stiles' pale skin drove Derek crazy, and he flipped them over, his sensitive cock an after-thought as he stared at Stiles who was smirking below them. “Mmm, I knew it. Always so territorial.” Derek watched as Stiles rubbed the come into his skin slightly, pulling his hand up to his lips and tasting. He licked down to his wrist, eyes locked on Derek's who couldn't tear his away if he tried. He knew his eyes were still glowing, but if anything it seemed to urge Stiles on more.

He dropped his weight slightly onto Stiles' body, kissing him once and letting his nose trail across his jaw before latching to his neck, the bruise from before purpling, a stark contrast to the creamy skin surrounding it. Derek bit down on one of the chords in Stiles' neck, alternating between sucking another bruise and licking the pain away. Stiles pet through Derek's hair, both of them avoiding the drying come on their stomachs as they came down.

Eventually, Derek stood up and went into the en suite bathroom, dampening a wash cloth and bringing it over to wipe at Stiles' stomach before doing the same to his own. He collected their clothing and dumped them all into his hamper, tossing Stiles a pair of boxers and sliding ones on for himself. Stiles shimmied his way into the underwear as Derek went to unlock the door. The room was heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, but if Boyd wanted to sleep in his own bed, that was all on him. He figured he wouldn't be surprised if he found Boyd on the couch the next morning.

Crawling back onto the bed, he draped his arm and leg around Stiles' body, hugging him close to his chest. Stiles ran his hand over Derek's jaw, the fine hairs of his stubble scratching at his skin. Derek pressed a kiss to his wrist and sighed.

“I'm sorry I never got to take you to prom. Or that I didn't dance with you at graduation. Or, hell, that I missed your party. I'm sorry we never got to do those things together.”

“Shh. It's okay. We'll get to do them now. Maybe not those exact things, but everything else. We still have college graduations and friend's weddings to look forward to. We can even make out in the coat check closet, if you'd fancy it.” Stiles poked at Derek's side and Derek caught his finger, kissing the tip of it.

“I love you.”

Stiles smiled impishly. “Oh, you do?” he questioned, biting his lip to hold in his smirk.

Derek schooled his face into one of pure seriousness. “Mister Stilinski. I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer.” Stiles laughed outright and covered his face to hide the giggle. “These past months,” Derek continued, removing Stiles hands and staring him straight on, trying not to break as well. “These past months have been a torment. I came to...Berkeley...with the single object of seeing you. I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my...family's expectations? Uh, the inferiority of your...birth by rank and circumstance? Wow, okay, anyway. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.” Derek's eyes grew wide as Stiles laughed harder.

“Oh, my God. You are such a dork. And you'd play a great Darcy, wow.”

“Stiles, that wasn't the line.” He was smiling now, the mock seriousness broken. “Anyway! I love you,” he took Stiles' hand in his own, smile slipping into something more genuine, kissing at the back of Stiles' hand and holding it to his chest. “I love you, most ardently.”

A beautiful blush rose to Stiles' cheeks, and even in the dim light of the room, he could see it spread down his neck. “I love you, too, Der.” Their lips met into a short kiss before Stiles curled in deeper to Derek's body, hands still clasped between them.

He vaguely remembers Boyd coming in sometime in the early morning before turning off the light and slipping right back out of the room.

*****

Waking up, Derek couldn't help the rush of relief he felt when he opened his eyes to see Stiles lying next to him, eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks and legs twisted in the sheets. He brought his hand up and ghosted his fingers down Stiles' arm, the barely-there touch raising goose bumps on his skin. He stirred in his sleep, mumbling incoherently and Derek wanted nothing more than to wake up like this every day for the rest of his life.

Maybe it was too soon to think about them as a forever sort of deal, especially considering that Derek didn't even know what they actually were. Though, to be fair, he was almost 99.9% sure they were at least boyfriends now.

Boyfriends. Stiles is my boyfriend. Hello, this is my boyfriend, Stiles. Hi, I'm Derek, Stiles' boyfriend.

Every version of it sounded perfect, and the smile grew on his face as Stiles stirred once more before blinking his eyes open, looking confused in the usual “I'm not in my own bed” way before relaxing at the sight of Derek. Stiles leaned forward, forgoing morning breath to press a kiss to Derek's mouth. “Hey, you.”

“Good morning.”

Stiles shut his eyes again, the second wave of sleepiness hitting him. “'m still tired. But I'm also really hungry,” he moaned into the pillow. Derek pressed a kiss to his forehead before extracting himself from the bed and grabbing a pair of sweats from his wardrobe. It was November, meaning the suite's living room was always practically freezing. He pulled on a zip-up sweater and padded out to the kitchen, glancing at the clock on the microwave that read 11:27 am in bright green numbers. Whatever, it's still morning at least.

He started the coffee and waited for the water to boil, slipping back into the room and into the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. By the time he was finished, the water was ready and he stirred the instant coffee into the cups. It was pretty shit coffee, but they didn't have very many options since they weren't allowed heating plates for a real coffee machine. He poured creamer and two sugars into Stiles' cup and three sugars into his own black coffee. Setting the cups on the coffee table, he unwrapped some Pop-Tarts and stuck them on a plate balancing them on his forearm before gathering their cups.

Bringing the half-assed breakfast into the room, he found Stiles sitting with his back to the wall and looking blearily into the sunlight from the window. “Thanks,” he said, taking a bite out of his Pop-Tart and sipping at the coffee, cringing at the taste but not complaining. “So what's on the agenda today?”

“Uh, well, depends on when you're going back to school. It's Saturday and you're welcome to stay as long as you want, but if you were gonna go back-”

“Oh, shush. You know I'm not leaving. Can't get rid of me that easily.”

“Wouldn't want to.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Stiles smiled. “So? I mean, you're gonna have to show me around campus and let me make sure I made a good choice in the school for you. And we need to get some food that doesn't taste like college. But other than that, I'm at your whim.”

“Well, Boyd – my roommate – he's usually hanging around here so we should get out. But, I'm sure that tonight I could persuade him into spending another night on the couch, if you'd like.”

“Hell yeah I'd like. I just got a hot new boyfriend that I've been eying since like, the 7th grade. I'm going to milk all the time we've got, baby.”

“7th grade? That long?”

“Mmhm. I'm pretty sure you, with the help of one mister Ryan Gosling, were the reason I started realizing my own sexuality. So, you know, thanks for that.”

Derek hooked his ankle over Stiles' and grinned into his coffee, the light, happy feeling bubbling in his chest again. They'd have to tell their parents, soon. And he knew his siblings and Scott were going to have some sort of Field day from the news, but for now he couldn't think about anyone else except the boy whom he loved that was playing footsie with him over the covers. He felt like he was floating, but in the good way where he knew Stiles was there, anchoring him and holding on to him to keep him from drifting away, Derek trusting with all his heart that Stiles would never let go.