Two Steps Sideways
Title: Two Steps Sideways
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 2x12
Word Count: 4000
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: Stiles gets an angry text from Derek, an hour later. 'I'm not avoiding you. I have five broken ribs.'
AN: Part six in the Milkshakes and Matchsticks series.
Derek cancels their next date, because something's creeping around the house, and he's not sure what it is yet. He doesn't want to leave the place unprotected. Stiles understands that completely. Because Derek's day job is essentially be a scary Alpha, and wrangle his werewolf children, and creepy undead uncle into some sort of cohesive, monster-fighting unit, or something. In case Beacon Hills is invaded by zombies, or swamp creatures, or whatever. Stiles totally gets that Derek can't drop everything and hang out with him. Honestly Derek's the first person who's dropped anything to hang out with Stiles, and he's still a little stunned about that.
He kind of gets it the next time he cancels too, because Erica isn't in school for the day either, and he figures it was some sort of Beta emergency. He even gets an apology text, and he's pretty sure he's keeping that one on his phone forever, because it proves that Derek knows how to use the word 'sorry.' In an apologetic context and everything.
The third time Stiles is a little annoyed, because he's actually dating, properly, for the first time in his entire life. He should be able to enjoy a little of that, without staring at his phone, worrying that his boyfriend is going to be decapitated by hunters. But he can deal with it. It's not like it's a new worry, not since they discovered the town is apparently a hotbed of supernatural activity - and it sounds like he's joking every time he says that, but he's not, he's really not.
After the fourth time, he starts to worry. Because normally he at least sees Derek every few days, even if it's just his car, or a glimpse of him across a field, lurking in some trees. Scott may have decided he doesn't want to be in his pack, but Isaac and Erica seem to have decided they're all friends (whether Stiles and Scott like it or not sometimes) and, yeah, they still get roped into pack business. There's still a lot of hanging around places they shouldn't be after dark, werewolf attack drills, awkward conversations about how hard it is to have relationships when you don't want to claw your significant other to death, and occasionally researching something which may or may not be a supernatural menace. But Stiles is pretty sure he hasn't seen Derek in a week, and he gets the sinking feeling that Derek's avoiding him.
The fifth time Derek cancels on him, Stiles is on the verge of some sort of angry, panic attack. He doesn't know if you can have an angry panic attack. Where you feel this kind of sick worry, and this wounded anger all at the same time. Because maybe he did something, or said something that made Derek decide the whole thing with Stiles is too complicated, or just an awful idea in general. It's not like Derek would have told him, it would have been hidden among the scowls, and frowns, and expressions of wounded offence.
This is obviously the 'feel horribly insecure' part of the relationship. No one told Stiles about this part, it sucks.
Seriously if the next text he gets is 'I'll call you,' Stiles is going to go out and get drunk again, or something. Scott will go with him, and listen to him complain about the relationship he hasn't even told him about yet, and he will not bail on him this time. Stiles will steal his phone if necessary, so Allison can't have any last-minute dramatic emergencies, like her soufflé going flat, or not being able to reach a high shelf, or maybe a taxing lid on a jar of pickles. He knows their relationship is kind of ridiculously epic, but the excuses Scott's making to see her now - he's embarrassed for the boy. He's embarrassed for Allison. He loves Scott like a brother but he's started thinking some sort of intervention might be required.
Or maybe strippers.
Werewolf strippers.
And now Stiles is thinking about werewolf strippers, and Oh my God, his brain needs professional help.
He goes to the messages in his phone.
'Please don't send me any variation of 'I'll call you.''
He sends it while he's watching a documentary about deserts. Which feels depressingly, ironically appropriate. But then he can't stop worrying that he may have come across as way too harsh in that text. He should have added a sad face or something. There are probably perfectly good explanations for all the times Derek's had to cancel. Which also explains why Stiles hasn't seen him around. He's smart enough to know that, and it seems so obvious once he's had an hour to think about it. When he thinks about this logically it all makes perfect sense that it's nothing to freak out over. But his logical brain is apparently passed out drunk somewhere or something, and his paranoid, insecure brain has taken the wheel.
But he can at least explain about the last text.
'I'm sorry dude, everyone is out doing werewolf things. I'm feeling useless.'
That's the most self-pitying text ever, and he just called his boyfriend 'dude.'
'I'm sorry I called you dude, it's still weird that we're dating.'
Oh, fantastic, calling him weird absolutely makes up for calling him dude. Derek's probably re-thinking that whole dating thing right now.
Three hours later, with Stiles's phone still irritatingly silent, he's swung back to desperate and annoyed, and maybe worried. He doesn't even know what the soup of his brain-thoughts is composed of any more.
'I'm going insane, seriously. Could you just send me something?'
Ten minutes after that.
'Avoiding me is just immature, you know that right.'
Stiles gets an angry text from Derek, an hour later. 'I'm not avoiding you. I have five broken ribs.'
Which makes him feel kind of shitty about the whole thing.
He's the worst boyfriend ever.
*****
Stiles has been refusing to even go near his phone since then.
Because it's all his phone's fault.
His phone is ruining his fledgling relationship with a guy he's not even close to hot enough to have gotten in the first place.
His phone is dead to him.
*****
Stiles has developed a talent for screwing around on the internet with one eye, and doing his homework with the other. It mostly works. The veering wildly off topic, and making connections that terrify and frustrate the narrow-minded is mostly a side hobby. Though 'screwing around on the internet,' involves a lot more looking up things which disturb and horrify him lately. There was a whole section on harpies that had him sleeping with the window shut for week, and he didn't even know if they existed. He'd even wondered how resistant his dad would be to the idea of spikes on the roof. He's still wondering how that would even work, when there's a noise behind him. It's the grating tread of boots on wood, and he's flailing around in his chair, trying not to end up on the floor.
He rights himself, facing mostly the other way, and finds Derek, standing just inside the window. Anyone else would be radiating an air of, 'I didn't just climb in your window,' innocence. Derek's mostly radiating an air of gloomy uncertainty, and there are his ever-present eyebrows of murderous intent. It works on him though, because he has a stupidly attractive face. Honestly, it makes no sense, but Stiles is still surprised how good he looks in person, especially now, when he's sort of allowed to look as much as he wants to. Suddenly Stiles is all awkward smiles and fidgeting. Jesus, it's like dating turns everyone into a seven year old girl.
"Hey," he says. Stiles pushes the laptop shut, because a bearded guy in a hat is still droning on about the differences between bear claw marks, and those supposedly made by a Bigfoot.
"Hey." Derek offers him a tall cup that's steaming gently, and Stiles doesn't need werewolf senses to tell that it's coffee. Derek brought him coffee, possibly even apology-coffee. That's weirdly thoughtful and normal of him. It's like he's been watching TV and taking notes or something. That should probably terrify him in some way, but Stiles is too busy being confused. Shouldn't he be the one buying apology-coffee? Since he was the one who acted like an immature dick.
"Wow, caffeine, man, you have no idea how much I feel like I've over-dosed on stimulants already, and I'm not actually a big coffee drinker -" Stiles is literally watching Derek's face fall in slow motion, and seriously he needs to learn to just shut up sometimes. Because Derek just doesn't do nice things and really, Stiles's first instinct is to complain? "But I am absolutely going to drink this. Thank you." He takes it from him, and pops the cap, because he may not be a huge coffee drinker but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate the smell.
Derek puts a hand in his pocket, and dumps out a collection of sachets on Stiles's desk.
"You remembered my pathological need for sugar. You are a master." He starts tearing them open, and dumping them in. "How the hell did you climb up here holding this anyway?"
Derek just shrugs, like he hadn't even thought about it. Stupid, flexible, acrobatic werewolves.
It occurs to Stiles that this is the first time Derek's been in his room since they started dating, they're still dating right? Of course they're still dating, you don't bring someone coffee if you want to break up with them. Stiles is suddenly aware of the fact that the bed's rumpled, and there are clothes all over the floor. Should he care about that stuff now? It's not like it mattered before after all. Derek has actually stayed here, mostly wearing bloodstains, and surrounded by an air of menace and rage. But Stiles still feels weird about it, because it's not the same now they're together. He doesn't feel weird enough to tidy though. God no. Just to worry about it, in some sort of vague way.
"Sit down, wherever you like, not that you don't usually. Only you haven't been here since we - this probably isn't weird. I'm making it weird. I'm going to stop." Stiles shuts his mouth and stirs his coffee, while Derek pulls a chair over.
"I haven't been avoiding you," Derek says quietly. Maybe he thinks his angry text yesterday wasn't clear enough.
Stiles winces, really obviously, and then shrugs to try and cover it up.
"I'm sorry," he says. "About the whole thing where I sent you a bunch of text messages, like I'd genuinely lost my mind. And I'm really glad you didn't get horribly mauled to death by whatever was...mauling you. I know you heal fast, but that doesn't matter. I should have been worrying about you when I didn't hear from you, and not just assumed - y'know."
"It's fine," Derek says. Which seems to have become his new favourite phrase. But he's not even doing that mouth thing, where he says it's fine, but Stiles can tell that it's really not. Maybe he's relieved that Stiles can be a crazy person too.
"I kind of forgot that you're an Alpha, and you have like an entire pack's worth of problems to deal with. Some of them gruesome and terrifying. I just figured I did something, or said something stupid and you'd decided -"
"No," Derek says, and it's amazing how that one word can not only stop the twisting sense of embarrassment and worry inside Stiles, but make him feel kind of stupidly attached to Derek at the same time.
"Ok." They've clearly been spending too much time together and Derek's rubbing off on him, or maybe one-word answers are the new fashion, or something. "But, no, I understand if there's an emergency that you have to leave for. You have responsibilities, really a bunch of them, which aren't fun at all, and it's fine."
"There will be no emergencies," Derek says firmly. In a way that probably isn't supposed to make it sound like his entire pack is currently tied up somewhere, so they can't get into trouble. Even if that is a hilarious mental image.
"Ok," Stiles says quietly, and he thinks he's smiling the stupid smile. The one that's way too wide and a little demented. He should probably stop, but it's already out there now, so he figures what the hell.
But rather than making fun of it, or in any way making him feel like a small child, or an escaped lunatic. Derek smiles back.
He smiles back.
Holy crap, that's - Stiles doesn't even know what to do with that. He drinks the coffee instead, and it's still too hot. He may actually be burning from the inside out, but he doesn't even care.
"What are you doing?" Derek tips his head towards the desk.
Stiles thinks about saying 'homework.' But he's pretty sure that will get him the awkward little wince. Because, oh yeah, he still goes to school.
"Nothing I can't stop," he says instead, and pushes his economics textbook shut. "I was looking into something for Scott, but he bailed on me. I think Allison was in terrible danger, because she'd lost her car keys or something. I'm trying with him but he's very focused."
Derek grunts agreement, rather than voice whatever he obviously wants to say about Scott's focus on Allison. Stiles figures that's probably for the best, but he doesn't like the idea of Derek actually having words and then not using them. Seriously, if he restrains himself any harder there'll be no words at all. Stiles is just getting used to his words. He'd miss them.
"What are you doing here - I mean, did you want me to look for something for you?"
Derek's frowning again, without any effort at all. It's like he's constantly resisting the urge to be disappointed and angry. But Stiles thinks it's a good thing - not the frowning, the fact that he's resisting more now.
"I didn't come here because I wanted something. I came to see you."
Stiles is a little bit floored by that simple admission, because, yeah, that doesn't happen to him a lot.
"You can see me and take shameless advantage of my awesome time-management and research skills at the same time. I'm giving you permission. It'll be like a study-date - only obviously in a more adult fashion that is completely non-school related. In fact lets pretend I didn't mention school at all." He subtly tries to shove all his school textbooks to the back of the desk.
"I'm really not here for that," Derek says again, and he looks worried now, as if Stiles might think he's just spending time with him to get at his research skills. Which did actually cross his mind at the start of this. But he'd immediately dismissed it, because the way Derek reacts to anyone attempting manipulation - Stiles really doesn't think it's his style.
"You realise I did this kind of stuff for you anyway," Stiles says. "And you know I'm good at this. I don't just pull out the first 'Big Book of Monsters,' like some people I'm not going to mention. I went digital and analogue. I'm also not afraid to go poking through the dry academia. Though the library didn't have a restricted section. I checked. Seriously though, if anyone goes through my history I'm totally going to have to explain that I'm not actually a serial killer in the making. I'm going with passing interest in Cryptozoology to throw off the scent. I should probably make a note on Facebook, leave some sort of normal paper trail."
"I know you're good at this." Derek nods at the books. "I come to you because I know you'll do your best to get it right."
"You say that grudgingly, but I'm going to take it as an awesome compliment. And I expect you to remember it when a vampire's trying to eat your face." Stiles freezes with the coffee half way to his mouth. "Shit, are vampires even real? Do I even want to ask that question."
Derek frowns, and then shrugs.
"I've never seen one. I've never heard anyone mention one either."
Stiles is getting really good at seeing when people aren't saying something - Derek is fantastic practice.
"But what you're carefully not saying is that they could be real. You don't actually know one way or the other."
"I'm hedging my bets," Derek admits.
"In case you have to fight one later?" It's such a natural end to that sentence. It probably says something about their lives, that assuming vampires are real will probably be safer for everyone in the long run.
Derek sighs, but Stiles can see the flick at the corner of his mouth. He thinks Derek may indeed have thought about it. He may have actually sat in his fallen-down house and thought to himself 'am I going to have to fight a vampire one day?' Possibly immediately followed by the thought, 'shit, my life is a disaster, so probably.'
Stiles smirks at him over the coffee (it's really not that bad after all.)
"You know all the weaknesses right? Sunlight, garlic, crosses, stake through the heart, silver - oh, that one might be a bad idea. But you probably would have to fight one, natural enemies and all. Though it's actually a good thing that you are, or you'd just team up and no one wants that. Unless you're teaming up against zombies. Which you'd totally do, because a zombie apocalypse would be bad for both of you. Do you think they'd be like rock-star vampires, with the whole seduction thing? Or Nosferatu vampires, all elongated limbs, and gross bones, and bat faces and stuff?"
"Pretty sure the second couldn't blend into society well enough to feed regularly," Derek offers with a considering head tilt. Stiles is actually thrown for a second, because Derek is following his ramble, without looking like he wants to strangle him.
"You don't watch a lot of late-night television do you?"
"More than I used to." Derek says, and Stiles thinks that's a story somewhere in there.
"Flick through the channels at three in the morning and you'll believe in the undead, trust me." Stiles nods, then drums his fingers on his laptop and gestures. "So what's going on with you anyway? Aside from the occasional terrible mauling."
Derek looks at him for a second, his mouth opens, and then shuts, jaw tendons flexing, as if he was going to say something and choked it back.
Stiles realises belatedly how that might have sounded like he was fishing for information.
"I mean, only if you want to talk about it obviously. I'm not fishing for information. I was asking about you, I wasn't - I didn't want to know about anything to do with anything else - it's good - it's good talking to you, and I know you find it hard sometimes. I get carried away asking questions because I figure if I hit something you don't want to talk about then you won't. But if I hit something you can talk about, then you'll...talk. I know we've both sort of mutually agreed not to bring up any of the other stuff."
"No," Derek says slowly. "It's fine. I don't mind talking about it. Isaac's good, he's more comfortable. I think Scott helped with that. Erica and Boyd are better. Peter is...complicated. He has motives I don't know about yet. I'm trying to remember that."
"Speak of the undead - honestly though, how can anyone who tries that hard to come back from the dead not have motives," Stiles says quietly. "I'm glad everyone's cool though, I mean I see them at school but they have to kind of pretend there, and it's good to know that they're ok."
Stiles knows they're drifting somewhere difficult. Sooner or later they'll have to step outside this little quarantine area they've built. He's not quite sure what they are outside of that yet, but they're not this. Stiles likes that they can be this. But at the same time he knows it's stupid to pretend that they're going to be able to keep it this way for much longer. People are going to find out.
"Look, I don't mind. You don't have to talk about any of it, if you don't want me to know, it's fine. I'm not part of your pack and it's pack business. I understand."
Stiles is trying to make it easy, but Derek mouth twists, almost painfully.
"It would make things awkward," he says stiffly. "If you were - if you were part of the pack."
Stiles doesn't know whether to be offended by that or not, he really doesn't.
"Oh."
He is absolutely to blame for the uncomfortable silence that drags on after it. So he figures it's his responsibility to fix it.
"Umm, so, earlier I was looking something up for Scott, well actually it's something Deaton mentioned and Scott thought looking into it would be helpful. Even though technically him looking into it is me looking into it. It's not - I mean it's not a secret, I know Scott would want possible supernatural threats to be common knowledge now. But he's a sharer. When he's - when there are no threats of bodily harm or anything, he normally shares. Anyway, there's this whole thing with bodies being moved at the graveyard, not stolen or anything, just moved. Scott didn't like the idea of people moving dead bodies - or, I don't know, they're always where they should be in the morning, but it's not like people watch them overnight. He's doing the whole 'constant vigilance' thing. Which I suspect he learned from you, really, thanks for that. So if they're not getting up and walking on their own, which I really hope they're not doing...."
"Maybe someone's borrowing them, using them for something, and then putting them back," Derek suggests.
"Yes," Stiles agrees. "And oh my God, thank you, Scott looked at me like I was insane when I said that."
Derek looks relieved, relieved to be talking about the borrowing of dead bodies.
This is their relationship.
"Scott wanted to watch overnight. But I told him we needed to look at who might have a need for dead bodies first. It's like I was the voice of reason or something."
"I could help, if you want." Derek's already moving the books Stiles has piled up against the computer so he can read the titles.
"You sure you don't get enough of this in your day job?"
Derek raises an eyebrow like he doesn't get it, and Stiles doesn't even want to make the joke now.
"That would be awesome," he says instead.
Stiles splits the books down the middle, and Derek steals a pen from the messy pile at the edge of the desk.
They talk about zombies, and the conflicting information the books have on wraiths and ghouls. They drift all the way to shamanic rituals, and make a stupid amount of notes. It turns out that Derek has loopy handwriting. Stiles was expecting lots of depressing spikes, and far too much pressure. But it's nothing like that at all. He leaves his own notes upside down around Stiles's, and all the pages they manage to cover are going to be a pain to type up.
"You're typing it all up?" Derek looks surprised.
Stiles shrugs.
"I'm typing everything up. You cannot be prepared enough for this shit. I swear finding out everything after the fact with the kanima really wasn't working for me. What with all the times I got paralysed and almost died. I'm thinking this way might work better. Deaton's helping, so y'know, it's mostly going to be reliable. I hope. Of course, I'm not going to carry it around on a USB, I'm going to back-up that shit everywhere. You can have a copy too, seriously I'll give you a password and you can download it whenever you like."
Derek doesn't look like he expected that. But Stiles figures Derek's life hasn't exactly been full of people doing things for him for no reason. Stiles thinks it would be better for everyone if he didn't just rely on Peter, and whatever dubious information he has on his laptop. That he could be messing with for all they know.
It isn't until Stiles has to stop and turn on the lights that he realises how late it is.
"Hey, do you want me to order food?" he asks. He's not sure if food officially makes it a date, or whether it's a date already, since Derek brought him coffee, and they've just spent almost three hours sitting around basically doing monster-hunting homework together. "I mean for you as well, if you're staying. Stay for food?"
"I could eat," Derek says.
Stiles has already figured out from hanging around Scott that that's probably true of werewolves all the time.
He leaves Derek to his chapter on revivification, while he phones for pizza.
When he gets back, Derek has abandoned it, in favour of flipping through the index of the book from the bottom of the pile.
"Yeah, I wouldn't take anything that one has to say too seriously, I was mostly using it as a reference."
Stiles puts a hand out to drag it back across the desk, at the same time as Derek goes to shut the cover. Stiles ends up with his hand laid over Derek's, fingers settling against the pulse in his wrist. Derek's hand is warmer than his, werewolf body temperature warm. Stiles isn't moving his own off of it, he's just blinking stupidly at it, wondering if he should put pressure on it, or curl his fingers around it, or something? Until Derek pulls his hand back and stuffs it in his pocket, then frowns at the book he's still holding with an intensity that it probably doesn't deserve.
Stiles is left staring at his hand, mouth dry, heartbeat running like someone poked it with a sharp stick.
So that was a thing.
But Stiles doesn't know whether it was an awkward thing, or a really good thing. He genuinely doesn't know.
It felt like a good thing.
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 2x12
Word Count: 4000
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: Stiles gets an angry text from Derek, an hour later. 'I'm not avoiding you. I have five broken ribs.'
AN: Part six in the Milkshakes and Matchsticks series.
Derek cancels their next date, because something's creeping around the house, and he's not sure what it is yet. He doesn't want to leave the place unprotected. Stiles understands that completely. Because Derek's day job is essentially be a scary Alpha, and wrangle his werewolf children, and creepy undead uncle into some sort of cohesive, monster-fighting unit, or something. In case Beacon Hills is invaded by zombies, or swamp creatures, or whatever. Stiles totally gets that Derek can't drop everything and hang out with him. Honestly Derek's the first person who's dropped anything to hang out with Stiles, and he's still a little stunned about that.
He kind of gets it the next time he cancels too, because Erica isn't in school for the day either, and he figures it was some sort of Beta emergency. He even gets an apology text, and he's pretty sure he's keeping that one on his phone forever, because it proves that Derek knows how to use the word 'sorry.' In an apologetic context and everything.
The third time Stiles is a little annoyed, because he's actually dating, properly, for the first time in his entire life. He should be able to enjoy a little of that, without staring at his phone, worrying that his boyfriend is going to be decapitated by hunters. But he can deal with it. It's not like it's a new worry, not since they discovered the town is apparently a hotbed of supernatural activity - and it sounds like he's joking every time he says that, but he's not, he's really not.
After the fourth time, he starts to worry. Because normally he at least sees Derek every few days, even if it's just his car, or a glimpse of him across a field, lurking in some trees. Scott may have decided he doesn't want to be in his pack, but Isaac and Erica seem to have decided they're all friends (whether Stiles and Scott like it or not sometimes) and, yeah, they still get roped into pack business. There's still a lot of hanging around places they shouldn't be after dark, werewolf attack drills, awkward conversations about how hard it is to have relationships when you don't want to claw your significant other to death, and occasionally researching something which may or may not be a supernatural menace. But Stiles is pretty sure he hasn't seen Derek in a week, and he gets the sinking feeling that Derek's avoiding him.
The fifth time Derek cancels on him, Stiles is on the verge of some sort of angry, panic attack. He doesn't know if you can have an angry panic attack. Where you feel this kind of sick worry, and this wounded anger all at the same time. Because maybe he did something, or said something that made Derek decide the whole thing with Stiles is too complicated, or just an awful idea in general. It's not like Derek would have told him, it would have been hidden among the scowls, and frowns, and expressions of wounded offence.
This is obviously the 'feel horribly insecure' part of the relationship. No one told Stiles about this part, it sucks.
Seriously if the next text he gets is 'I'll call you,' Stiles is going to go out and get drunk again, or something. Scott will go with him, and listen to him complain about the relationship he hasn't even told him about yet, and he will not bail on him this time. Stiles will steal his phone if necessary, so Allison can't have any last-minute dramatic emergencies, like her soufflé going flat, or not being able to reach a high shelf, or maybe a taxing lid on a jar of pickles. He knows their relationship is kind of ridiculously epic, but the excuses Scott's making to see her now - he's embarrassed for the boy. He's embarrassed for Allison. He loves Scott like a brother but he's started thinking some sort of intervention might be required.
Or maybe strippers.
Werewolf strippers.
And now Stiles is thinking about werewolf strippers, and Oh my God, his brain needs professional help.
He goes to the messages in his phone.
'Please don't send me any variation of 'I'll call you.''
He sends it while he's watching a documentary about deserts. Which feels depressingly, ironically appropriate. But then he can't stop worrying that he may have come across as way too harsh in that text. He should have added a sad face or something. There are probably perfectly good explanations for all the times Derek's had to cancel. Which also explains why Stiles hasn't seen him around. He's smart enough to know that, and it seems so obvious once he's had an hour to think about it. When he thinks about this logically it all makes perfect sense that it's nothing to freak out over. But his logical brain is apparently passed out drunk somewhere or something, and his paranoid, insecure brain has taken the wheel.
But he can at least explain about the last text.
'I'm sorry dude, everyone is out doing werewolf things. I'm feeling useless.'
That's the most self-pitying text ever, and he just called his boyfriend 'dude.'
'I'm sorry I called you dude, it's still weird that we're dating.'
Oh, fantastic, calling him weird absolutely makes up for calling him dude. Derek's probably re-thinking that whole dating thing right now.
Three hours later, with Stiles's phone still irritatingly silent, he's swung back to desperate and annoyed, and maybe worried. He doesn't even know what the soup of his brain-thoughts is composed of any more.
'I'm going insane, seriously. Could you just send me something?'
Ten minutes after that.
'Avoiding me is just immature, you know that right.'
Stiles gets an angry text from Derek, an hour later. 'I'm not avoiding you. I have five broken ribs.'
Which makes him feel kind of shitty about the whole thing.
He's the worst boyfriend ever.
*****
Stiles has been refusing to even go near his phone since then.
Because it's all his phone's fault.
His phone is ruining his fledgling relationship with a guy he's not even close to hot enough to have gotten in the first place.
His phone is dead to him.
*****
Stiles has developed a talent for screwing around on the internet with one eye, and doing his homework with the other. It mostly works. The veering wildly off topic, and making connections that terrify and frustrate the narrow-minded is mostly a side hobby. Though 'screwing around on the internet,' involves a lot more looking up things which disturb and horrify him lately. There was a whole section on harpies that had him sleeping with the window shut for week, and he didn't even know if they existed. He'd even wondered how resistant his dad would be to the idea of spikes on the roof. He's still wondering how that would even work, when there's a noise behind him. It's the grating tread of boots on wood, and he's flailing around in his chair, trying not to end up on the floor.
He rights himself, facing mostly the other way, and finds Derek, standing just inside the window. Anyone else would be radiating an air of, 'I didn't just climb in your window,' innocence. Derek's mostly radiating an air of gloomy uncertainty, and there are his ever-present eyebrows of murderous intent. It works on him though, because he has a stupidly attractive face. Honestly, it makes no sense, but Stiles is still surprised how good he looks in person, especially now, when he's sort of allowed to look as much as he wants to. Suddenly Stiles is all awkward smiles and fidgeting. Jesus, it's like dating turns everyone into a seven year old girl.
"Hey," he says. Stiles pushes the laptop shut, because a bearded guy in a hat is still droning on about the differences between bear claw marks, and those supposedly made by a Bigfoot.
"Hey." Derek offers him a tall cup that's steaming gently, and Stiles doesn't need werewolf senses to tell that it's coffee. Derek brought him coffee, possibly even apology-coffee. That's weirdly thoughtful and normal of him. It's like he's been watching TV and taking notes or something. That should probably terrify him in some way, but Stiles is too busy being confused. Shouldn't he be the one buying apology-coffee? Since he was the one who acted like an immature dick.
"Wow, caffeine, man, you have no idea how much I feel like I've over-dosed on stimulants already, and I'm not actually a big coffee drinker -" Stiles is literally watching Derek's face fall in slow motion, and seriously he needs to learn to just shut up sometimes. Because Derek just doesn't do nice things and really, Stiles's first instinct is to complain? "But I am absolutely going to drink this. Thank you." He takes it from him, and pops the cap, because he may not be a huge coffee drinker but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate the smell.
Derek puts a hand in his pocket, and dumps out a collection of sachets on Stiles's desk.
"You remembered my pathological need for sugar. You are a master." He starts tearing them open, and dumping them in. "How the hell did you climb up here holding this anyway?"
Derek just shrugs, like he hadn't even thought about it. Stupid, flexible, acrobatic werewolves.
It occurs to Stiles that this is the first time Derek's been in his room since they started dating, they're still dating right? Of course they're still dating, you don't bring someone coffee if you want to break up with them. Stiles is suddenly aware of the fact that the bed's rumpled, and there are clothes all over the floor. Should he care about that stuff now? It's not like it mattered before after all. Derek has actually stayed here, mostly wearing bloodstains, and surrounded by an air of menace and rage. But Stiles still feels weird about it, because it's not the same now they're together. He doesn't feel weird enough to tidy though. God no. Just to worry about it, in some sort of vague way.
"Sit down, wherever you like, not that you don't usually. Only you haven't been here since we - this probably isn't weird. I'm making it weird. I'm going to stop." Stiles shuts his mouth and stirs his coffee, while Derek pulls a chair over.
"I haven't been avoiding you," Derek says quietly. Maybe he thinks his angry text yesterday wasn't clear enough.
Stiles winces, really obviously, and then shrugs to try and cover it up.
"I'm sorry," he says. "About the whole thing where I sent you a bunch of text messages, like I'd genuinely lost my mind. And I'm really glad you didn't get horribly mauled to death by whatever was...mauling you. I know you heal fast, but that doesn't matter. I should have been worrying about you when I didn't hear from you, and not just assumed - y'know."
"It's fine," Derek says. Which seems to have become his new favourite phrase. But he's not even doing that mouth thing, where he says it's fine, but Stiles can tell that it's really not. Maybe he's relieved that Stiles can be a crazy person too.
"I kind of forgot that you're an Alpha, and you have like an entire pack's worth of problems to deal with. Some of them gruesome and terrifying. I just figured I did something, or said something stupid and you'd decided -"
"No," Derek says, and it's amazing how that one word can not only stop the twisting sense of embarrassment and worry inside Stiles, but make him feel kind of stupidly attached to Derek at the same time.
"Ok." They've clearly been spending too much time together and Derek's rubbing off on him, or maybe one-word answers are the new fashion, or something. "But, no, I understand if there's an emergency that you have to leave for. You have responsibilities, really a bunch of them, which aren't fun at all, and it's fine."
"There will be no emergencies," Derek says firmly. In a way that probably isn't supposed to make it sound like his entire pack is currently tied up somewhere, so they can't get into trouble. Even if that is a hilarious mental image.
"Ok," Stiles says quietly, and he thinks he's smiling the stupid smile. The one that's way too wide and a little demented. He should probably stop, but it's already out there now, so he figures what the hell.
But rather than making fun of it, or in any way making him feel like a small child, or an escaped lunatic. Derek smiles back.
He smiles back.
Holy crap, that's - Stiles doesn't even know what to do with that. He drinks the coffee instead, and it's still too hot. He may actually be burning from the inside out, but he doesn't even care.
"What are you doing?" Derek tips his head towards the desk.
Stiles thinks about saying 'homework.' But he's pretty sure that will get him the awkward little wince. Because, oh yeah, he still goes to school.
"Nothing I can't stop," he says instead, and pushes his economics textbook shut. "I was looking into something for Scott, but he bailed on me. I think Allison was in terrible danger, because she'd lost her car keys or something. I'm trying with him but he's very focused."
Derek grunts agreement, rather than voice whatever he obviously wants to say about Scott's focus on Allison. Stiles figures that's probably for the best, but he doesn't like the idea of Derek actually having words and then not using them. Seriously, if he restrains himself any harder there'll be no words at all. Stiles is just getting used to his words. He'd miss them.
"What are you doing here - I mean, did you want me to look for something for you?"
Derek's frowning again, without any effort at all. It's like he's constantly resisting the urge to be disappointed and angry. But Stiles thinks it's a good thing - not the frowning, the fact that he's resisting more now.
"I didn't come here because I wanted something. I came to see you."
Stiles is a little bit floored by that simple admission, because, yeah, that doesn't happen to him a lot.
"You can see me and take shameless advantage of my awesome time-management and research skills at the same time. I'm giving you permission. It'll be like a study-date - only obviously in a more adult fashion that is completely non-school related. In fact lets pretend I didn't mention school at all." He subtly tries to shove all his school textbooks to the back of the desk.
"I'm really not here for that," Derek says again, and he looks worried now, as if Stiles might think he's just spending time with him to get at his research skills. Which did actually cross his mind at the start of this. But he'd immediately dismissed it, because the way Derek reacts to anyone attempting manipulation - Stiles really doesn't think it's his style.
"You realise I did this kind of stuff for you anyway," Stiles says. "And you know I'm good at this. I don't just pull out the first 'Big Book of Monsters,' like some people I'm not going to mention. I went digital and analogue. I'm also not afraid to go poking through the dry academia. Though the library didn't have a restricted section. I checked. Seriously though, if anyone goes through my history I'm totally going to have to explain that I'm not actually a serial killer in the making. I'm going with passing interest in Cryptozoology to throw off the scent. I should probably make a note on Facebook, leave some sort of normal paper trail."
"I know you're good at this." Derek nods at the books. "I come to you because I know you'll do your best to get it right."
"You say that grudgingly, but I'm going to take it as an awesome compliment. And I expect you to remember it when a vampire's trying to eat your face." Stiles freezes with the coffee half way to his mouth. "Shit, are vampires even real? Do I even want to ask that question."
Derek frowns, and then shrugs.
"I've never seen one. I've never heard anyone mention one either."
Stiles is getting really good at seeing when people aren't saying something - Derek is fantastic practice.
"But what you're carefully not saying is that they could be real. You don't actually know one way or the other."
"I'm hedging my bets," Derek admits.
"In case you have to fight one later?" It's such a natural end to that sentence. It probably says something about their lives, that assuming vampires are real will probably be safer for everyone in the long run.
Derek sighs, but Stiles can see the flick at the corner of his mouth. He thinks Derek may indeed have thought about it. He may have actually sat in his fallen-down house and thought to himself 'am I going to have to fight a vampire one day?' Possibly immediately followed by the thought, 'shit, my life is a disaster, so probably.'
Stiles smirks at him over the coffee (it's really not that bad after all.)
"You know all the weaknesses right? Sunlight, garlic, crosses, stake through the heart, silver - oh, that one might be a bad idea. But you probably would have to fight one, natural enemies and all. Though it's actually a good thing that you are, or you'd just team up and no one wants that. Unless you're teaming up against zombies. Which you'd totally do, because a zombie apocalypse would be bad for both of you. Do you think they'd be like rock-star vampires, with the whole seduction thing? Or Nosferatu vampires, all elongated limbs, and gross bones, and bat faces and stuff?"
"Pretty sure the second couldn't blend into society well enough to feed regularly," Derek offers with a considering head tilt. Stiles is actually thrown for a second, because Derek is following his ramble, without looking like he wants to strangle him.
"You don't watch a lot of late-night television do you?"
"More than I used to." Derek says, and Stiles thinks that's a story somewhere in there.
"Flick through the channels at three in the morning and you'll believe in the undead, trust me." Stiles nods, then drums his fingers on his laptop and gestures. "So what's going on with you anyway? Aside from the occasional terrible mauling."
Derek looks at him for a second, his mouth opens, and then shuts, jaw tendons flexing, as if he was going to say something and choked it back.
Stiles realises belatedly how that might have sounded like he was fishing for information.
"I mean, only if you want to talk about it obviously. I'm not fishing for information. I was asking about you, I wasn't - I didn't want to know about anything to do with anything else - it's good - it's good talking to you, and I know you find it hard sometimes. I get carried away asking questions because I figure if I hit something you don't want to talk about then you won't. But if I hit something you can talk about, then you'll...talk. I know we've both sort of mutually agreed not to bring up any of the other stuff."
"No," Derek says slowly. "It's fine. I don't mind talking about it. Isaac's good, he's more comfortable. I think Scott helped with that. Erica and Boyd are better. Peter is...complicated. He has motives I don't know about yet. I'm trying to remember that."
"Speak of the undead - honestly though, how can anyone who tries that hard to come back from the dead not have motives," Stiles says quietly. "I'm glad everyone's cool though, I mean I see them at school but they have to kind of pretend there, and it's good to know that they're ok."
Stiles knows they're drifting somewhere difficult. Sooner or later they'll have to step outside this little quarantine area they've built. He's not quite sure what they are outside of that yet, but they're not this. Stiles likes that they can be this. But at the same time he knows it's stupid to pretend that they're going to be able to keep it this way for much longer. People are going to find out.
"Look, I don't mind. You don't have to talk about any of it, if you don't want me to know, it's fine. I'm not part of your pack and it's pack business. I understand."
Stiles is trying to make it easy, but Derek mouth twists, almost painfully.
"It would make things awkward," he says stiffly. "If you were - if you were part of the pack."
Stiles doesn't know whether to be offended by that or not, he really doesn't.
"Oh."
He is absolutely to blame for the uncomfortable silence that drags on after it. So he figures it's his responsibility to fix it.
"Umm, so, earlier I was looking something up for Scott, well actually it's something Deaton mentioned and Scott thought looking into it would be helpful. Even though technically him looking into it is me looking into it. It's not - I mean it's not a secret, I know Scott would want possible supernatural threats to be common knowledge now. But he's a sharer. When he's - when there are no threats of bodily harm or anything, he normally shares. Anyway, there's this whole thing with bodies being moved at the graveyard, not stolen or anything, just moved. Scott didn't like the idea of people moving dead bodies - or, I don't know, they're always where they should be in the morning, but it's not like people watch them overnight. He's doing the whole 'constant vigilance' thing. Which I suspect he learned from you, really, thanks for that. So if they're not getting up and walking on their own, which I really hope they're not doing...."
"Maybe someone's borrowing them, using them for something, and then putting them back," Derek suggests.
"Yes," Stiles agrees. "And oh my God, thank you, Scott looked at me like I was insane when I said that."
Derek looks relieved, relieved to be talking about the borrowing of dead bodies.
This is their relationship.
"Scott wanted to watch overnight. But I told him we needed to look at who might have a need for dead bodies first. It's like I was the voice of reason or something."
"I could help, if you want." Derek's already moving the books Stiles has piled up against the computer so he can read the titles.
"You sure you don't get enough of this in your day job?"
Derek raises an eyebrow like he doesn't get it, and Stiles doesn't even want to make the joke now.
"That would be awesome," he says instead.
Stiles splits the books down the middle, and Derek steals a pen from the messy pile at the edge of the desk.
They talk about zombies, and the conflicting information the books have on wraiths and ghouls. They drift all the way to shamanic rituals, and make a stupid amount of notes. It turns out that Derek has loopy handwriting. Stiles was expecting lots of depressing spikes, and far too much pressure. But it's nothing like that at all. He leaves his own notes upside down around Stiles's, and all the pages they manage to cover are going to be a pain to type up.
"You're typing it all up?" Derek looks surprised.
Stiles shrugs.
"I'm typing everything up. You cannot be prepared enough for this shit. I swear finding out everything after the fact with the kanima really wasn't working for me. What with all the times I got paralysed and almost died. I'm thinking this way might work better. Deaton's helping, so y'know, it's mostly going to be reliable. I hope. Of course, I'm not going to carry it around on a USB, I'm going to back-up that shit everywhere. You can have a copy too, seriously I'll give you a password and you can download it whenever you like."
Derek doesn't look like he expected that. But Stiles figures Derek's life hasn't exactly been full of people doing things for him for no reason. Stiles thinks it would be better for everyone if he didn't just rely on Peter, and whatever dubious information he has on his laptop. That he could be messing with for all they know.
It isn't until Stiles has to stop and turn on the lights that he realises how late it is.
"Hey, do you want me to order food?" he asks. He's not sure if food officially makes it a date, or whether it's a date already, since Derek brought him coffee, and they've just spent almost three hours sitting around basically doing monster-hunting homework together. "I mean for you as well, if you're staying. Stay for food?"
"I could eat," Derek says.
Stiles has already figured out from hanging around Scott that that's probably true of werewolves all the time.
He leaves Derek to his chapter on revivification, while he phones for pizza.
When he gets back, Derek has abandoned it, in favour of flipping through the index of the book from the bottom of the pile.
"Yeah, I wouldn't take anything that one has to say too seriously, I was mostly using it as a reference."
Stiles puts a hand out to drag it back across the desk, at the same time as Derek goes to shut the cover. Stiles ends up with his hand laid over Derek's, fingers settling against the pulse in his wrist. Derek's hand is warmer than his, werewolf body temperature warm. Stiles isn't moving his own off of it, he's just blinking stupidly at it, wondering if he should put pressure on it, or curl his fingers around it, or something? Until Derek pulls his hand back and stuffs it in his pocket, then frowns at the book he's still holding with an intensity that it probably doesn't deserve.
Stiles is left staring at his hand, mouth dry, heartbeat running like someone poked it with a sharp stick.
So that was a thing.
But Stiles doesn't know whether it was an awkward thing, or a really good thing. He genuinely doesn't know.
It felt like a good thing.