Betting On Forever (Part Two)
Part One
It takes a while for things to slot back the way they were. For a short time there’s a layer of awkwardness over their conversations, as if they are each worried the other is still angry and almost afraid of any physical contact, of course that ends not long after the Isaac and Jackson debacle when they share the particularly awesome experience of watching the quietest kid in class finally take enough of Jackson’s shit and explode, sending the school bully into a heap on the lacrosse field. They have to drag Isaac off and then watch Jackson take the walk of shame, caked in mud.
It’s epic.
The event causes three distinct things to happen. The first being that Jackson actually seems to respect people who stand up to him, something they should have maybe figured out with his friendship with Danny, and became friendly with Isaac (if Stiles had known he would have punched Jackson in the face years ago). The second that Isaac finally seems to come out of his shell and together with another loner Boyd, starts actually talking to people, he even hangs out Stiles and Derek a few times but always ends up drifting back towards Jackson and Danny, something about Derek and Erica just seems to make him uneasy, even though Erica is nothing but nice to him and sometimes Stiles thinks he sees hearts in Isaac’s eyes when he talks to her. And thirdly Stiles and Derek end up in a heap on top of each other on the lacrosse field after pulling the guys apart with cat calls, wolf whistles and even a remark by their team mate Matt that he thought they made a ‘great pair’ (Stiles still wonders if he was being serious) they end up getting past the awkwardness and go back to almost exactly the way they used to be. Of course every now and then Stiles feels eyes on him and swears that Derek’s staring, but when he looks up, he usually finds Derek engrossed in a book or conversation with friends.
Stiles is also getting far better at coping with the touching.
See, Derek’s never been much of a tactile person with anyone the only exceptions being Laura, Erica and Stiles, it has never been a problem before but now, Stiles seems to notice every single touch. Like the way they always end up together at group movie nights, Derek’s body pressed against his, his thigh warm and comfortable, the way he casually runs his hand over Stiles’s buzz cut before cupping the back of his head and pulling in for a hug, the way their fingers always seem to touch as they pour over books together, or meeting as they both share some fries at the diner. So many casual almost indiscriminate touches that Derek never seems to notice but that make Stiles’s nerves tingle, his skin retaining the memory of every touch. So much so that sometimes Stiles thinks he’ll always feel Derek.
…
“Ok dude…this movie…is going…to blow…your…mind,” Stiles produces the DVD case from behind his back with a flourish, but not before he catches the unimpressed look from Derek.
Scott’s sneaking around with Allison, Erica’s got family night and Aubrey is away with her family for the weekend, leaving no one but Derek to hang out with. Not that Stiles doesn’t want to hang out with Derek, just that it’s tempting to just reach out and touch him whenever he feels like it except he knows he can’t.
“District 9?” Derek arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks the picture of comfort, legs crossed at the ankles, leaning back against Stiles’s headboard, but Stiles can see a slight hint of tension running through his body.
“Yes, District 9, it’s basically apartheid with Aliens,” Stiles punches the open button on his DVD player and puts the DVD in, punches the button against the bounces onto the bed beside Derek. Derek shifts to the side and Stiles leans back against the headboard, his whole body touching Derek’s from shoulder to knee. He should move, he knows he should, there’s enough room that they don’t have to sit this close but Stiles can’t seem to pull himself away from the heat radiating from Derek’s body.
“I reserve judgement,” Derek mutters as Stiles presses play and then digs him in the ribs with his elbow. Derek scowl, rubs at his ribs and scowls some more.
“You’ll love it,” he says, and shuffles around, ignores Derek’s sigh, and settles as the credits roll.
…
Stiles wakes to find his face smooshed into Derek’s thigh and Derek’s fingers running through his hair as Wikus Van Der Merwe watches Christopher’s ship taking off over the streets of Johannesburg. He let’s himself revel in the feel of Derek’s fingers for a moment, taking pleasure from the way his nails catch against his scalp every now and then.
“I hope you’re not drooling on my jeans,” Derek mutters and Stiles jumps, pushes himself up right and rubs a hand across his face.
“My drool would only make them better,” he says and Derek rolls his eyes and reaches for the remote.
“You were right,” he says and Stiles blinks.
“About your jeans?”
“No, idiot, the movie…mind blown,” Derek grins and flexes his fingers and Stiles tries to ignore the tingling against his scalp.
“Told you,” he says and Derek punches him lightly on the arm.
“Guess I should trust you more often hey?” Derek moves, stands and stretches, reveals a strip of skin between his (un-drooled on) jeans and his soft marl grey t-shirt.
“I guess so,” mutters and licks at his lips. Derek clears his throat, drags his shirt back down and hooks a thumb in the direction of the window.
“I should probably…” Stiles nods, and resists the urge to smack himself in the head. For God’s sake Stiles, he thinks, control yourself. It was just skin. Tanned, smooth, perfect skin that will probably feel like satin under your…shut up.
“Ok,” he grins through his minds internal argument and Derek frowns slightly.
“See you tomorrow though,” it’s posed as a question but Stiles grins at him as Derek hooks one leg out of the window.
“Unless the world ends tonight,” he offers his usual farewell and Derek lets out a small laugh. Stiles tries not to dance, he may have ogled his best friend who wants nothing romantic (or sexual) to do with him, but he’s still using their inside joke, still making Stiles say the same thing they say every time Derek crawls out of his window.
“We’re not due an apocalypse,” Derek replies, taps on the window ledge and lowers himself almost out of sight.
“Night Derek,” Derek pauses, looks at Stiles long, his eyes unreadable.
“Night Stiles.”
…
Unfortunately Danny’s too damn lovable.
It’s supposed to be a guys night out, they’re invited along by Isaac, who seems to have less of a problem with Derek when Erica isn’t there. They grab their fake ID’s and hit the nightclubs along the strip. Somewhere along the line of bars that merge into one the more beers Stiles has, Danny suggests they head to Jungle which is how he finds himself in a gay bar, being hit on by the hottest guy he has ever seen before in his life, well besides Derek.
Stiles has always assumed the only action he would get from a gay bar would be the drag queens wanting to mother him (and they do for the first half an hour they make it into the club), so when people starts buying him drinks, coming over to chat to him, even dragging him onto the dance floor and ok handsy touching is all the rage in gay bars, apparently, he’s surprised, flattered and pleased enough to ignore Derek’s growl of warning. He continues to ignore his best friends eyes glaring at him and whoever his current dance partner happens to be at the time, sure he might have some Dutch courage from the six beers he’s had and whatever that pink drink was (his vision is swimming slightly), but Derek isn’t the boss of him. Just because he doesn’t want Stiles doesn’t mean… Stiles ends that thought quickly enough, he may be drunk but he’s smart enough to know that way lies madness.
Several more drinks later and every caution is slung to the wind and rather than finding Derek’s eyes boring into his back intimidating, he’s starting to find it almost a turn on. The guy he’s dancing with now is built like Derek, all broad shoulders and huge arms, he even has similar hair and hint of stubble, in fact if Stiles squints….not that he’s squinting of course.
Of course it shouldn’t come as a surprise when he feels Derek crowd around him, moving in front of him and telling his hunky dance partner to fuck off, because the one thing even more certain than Stiles’s hopeless crush on his best friend, is that his best friend is a clueless interfering asshole who never sees what’s right in front of him.
“Dude, what the fuck, I was dancing with him,” Stiles whines.
“Dancing, that what you call it?” Derek asks, a thread of steel in his voice.
“Well yeah, we are on the dancefloor, there is music, we were moving in time with the music, what would you call it?” Stiles answers, the barb in his voice clear even over the pounding music.
“Well if I was your girlfriend and I saw that, I’d go with cheating,” Derek snaps, his hand shooting out to grab Stiles as he turns away.
Stiles sees red, all the crap he’s been feeling over the last few months spilling out with the alcohol and the anger. “Well you’re not my girlfriend and you are not my keeper Derek so fuck off.”
Stiles pulls his arm away and turns to leave the dance floor, his temper spiking as Derek shoves his way in front of him, he takes a breath ready to head into round two with his so called buddy, when Derek’s next words knock the very breath out of his body.
“You want to dance? Dance with me.”
Stiles looks at Derek, takes in the tense rigid stance of his body and the total sincerity in his eyes.
“You can’t dance,” were the only words that made it out of Stiles mouth.
“So teach me,” comes the soft reply.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t think I care anymore.”
Everything in Stiles head screams that this is the wrong move, that whatever else is happening this is just going to make it worse, but his body doesn’t seem to be willing to listen, it moves as if pulled by the same magnetic force it had been subjected to before when Derek’s lips were against his own, moving towards Derek, to the smell, the feel of home. And Stiles thinks it might be the alcohol that’s making him sound like a poetry major. Their bodies slot together as if they are made this way and for a moment, just one brief moment Stiles thinks perhaps he can have this. Not everything, not Derek the way he wants him, but he can have this.
Their bodies move slowly, following each others rhythm rather than the music. His hands are on Derek’s chest, flexing gently against the soft grey t-shirt. His fingers feel like they are being lit with sparks, like when you were a kid and you rubbed your feet against the carpet until you felt the electricity spark. He can hear Derek’s breathing as he pulls Stiles in closer, his lips aligned with Stiles ear and Stiles closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets the feeling take over.
It’s like time stands still and everything zeroes down to just this, to him and Derek. All he can think about is the solid weight of Derek’s chest beneath his fingers, the steady heartbeat that Stiles swears skips slightly as Stiles whisper his name. The feel of Derek’s breath warm on his ear and the smell of grass, cologne and mints that his mind had long ago associated with Derek without ever being truly aware of it, makes him feel…alive.
The soft sound of his name in reply causes Stiles to pull his head back, his eyes falling to Derek’s lips, the magnetic pull coming back in full force. His lips are less than a whisper away when his brain finally kicks in, reminding him with brutal clarity that this isn’t a smart thing, isn’t the right thing, that this way, all that will happen is he’d hurt two people he cares about and lose his best friend forever. A small part of him registers Derek licking his lips, the look in his eyes, worried, confused makes Stiles pull back abruptly.
“I’m sorry……I shouldn’t have….I’m drunk…..it’s…..oh god I’m sorry.”
Stiles runs from the dance floor, ignoring Derek’s panicked calling of his name, he runs out of the club and ducks into the alley sitting alongside, he tries to control his breathing as he hears his friends pile out of the club looking for him, melts back into the wall. He really truly should not be allowed to drink.
Banging his head against the wall again and again, the tears spill over, run down his cheeks, the mantra of ‘stupid, stupid, stupid’ falling from his lips.
How the hell is he going to move forward from this one?
…
As it happens, he applies his same brand of blind ignorance as the last time. He ignores his dad telling him Derek was looking for him, ignores Derek’s repeated calls and the text message, short and (not so) sweet.
We need to talk
He ignores all of them and calls Aubrey first thing the next morning, inviting her over to watch films as he nurses his hangover. He tries not to feel guilty at her pleased eagerness, and he assuages that guilt by throwing himself into kissing her. Lying on his bed, his guilt allows things to go further than they ever have before, within minutes he has Aubrey’s top and bra off, he’s shucked off his own top sitting in just his jeans, his mouth covering her neck with short, sharp, sweet bites, wishing with his whole heart that her soft skin under his fingers could bring the same reaction that the feel of Derek’s heartbeat had the night before.
And that’s how Derek finds them, his eyes wide with shock, anger and something Stiles has never seen before. He backs out of the room, apologies falling from his lips as Aubrey frantically covers herself, the embarrassed flush on her cheeks staying with him as she nearly runs from the room, a quick kiss to his lips, the pleased smile on her face warring with her embarrassment.
The next day at school he waits for the reaction, for a word, a comment, anything. But Derek acts like none of it happened, not the dance or the situation in Stiles’s bedroom the day before. And Stiles comes to the sickening conclusion that in catching him and Aubrey the day before, Derek has the reassurance he needs that his best friend isn’t going to try and jump his bones, and so things slots back to normal.
And if Stiles noticed that it’s around about the same time Derek stops touching him, that the friendly hugs vanish, that Derek now sits with Erica in between them both at group movie nights, well that’s only to be expected, that’s what you do when you don’t want your best friend to start dry humping you in a club because you show them a little affection. That’s the price Stiles has to pay for not staying strong, for letting his guard down for even a second.
It could be worse though, he still has Aubrey, he still has Derek, or at least part of him, and he will never let his guard drop again, will never ever do anything again that will jeopardise the friendship he needs more than anything else in the world.
…
With a blink of an eye their Senior year is almost over and all anyone can talk about is Prom, who’s taking who, what people are wearing, take your own car or hire a limo, who had hired a hotel room. Aubrey has taken to dropping some pretty broad hints about them getting a room and it’s something he starts to consider, because that’s what you do right? And then something happens that turns everything on its head.
Erica and Derek break up.
Derek brings it up almost casually, over lunch with the girls all away at the prom decorating committee meeting.
“Erica and I broke up,” Stiles chokes on his water and drops his fork into his mash potato, his chest constricting painfully as Derek pushes his pork chop around his plate. Scott looks up surprised before stomping in with the finesse of a bull.
“Dude so does this mean you two aren’t chipping in for the limo? Cos I only have enough if we are all paying……ow,” Scott complains, staring at Stiles and rubbing his ankle. “Dude, that hurt.”
“No we are still going,” Derek says softly, a small smile on his face, “we’re just going as friends.”
“Dude, you ok?” Stiles asks, his voice soft and concerned. His heart skips as he’s rewarded with one of the first real smiles he’s been graced with for months and Derek’s fingers spreading on the table until their pinkies graze softly.
“I’m fine,” he replies. “It was something we both wanted, we both felt it was time we stopped…”
Whatever Derek had been about to say was drowned out as Allison, Erica and Aubrey descend on them, their chatter bright and happy. Stiles tries to catch Derek’s eye as Aubrey slides into his lap, her hand winding round his neck and playing with the hair she had convinced him to grow out for prom, but Derek’s looking at Scott and Allison, entering into relaxed conversation and almost appearing to avoid looking at Stiles and Aubrey.
Maybe he just wants to make it clear that just because he and his girlfriend are history that doesn’t open the floodgate to best friends with ridiculous crushes. He feels eyes on him and turns to find Erica staring at him, a soft, considering look on her face and he quickly enters into an inane conversation with Aubrey about a game he just picked up, the last thing he needs was any of his friends finding out about his idiocy, Derek had been pretty good at keeping things between just them.
This didn’t change anything, Derek would find someone else and with any luck Stiles would at least like them as much as he did Erica. Throwing himself back into the conversation about prom, teasing Erica about her scarlet red dress, he totally misses the eyes now following his face and hands as he talks about the under the sea theme, his voice bright with animation, his eyes sparkling. He totally misses the look of almost desperate longing on the face watching him, but other eyes caught it, caught the look and the almost manic desperation of Stiles’s conversation, and a decision was finally made.
…
Two days before prom Stiles finally learns what it feels like to break someone’s heart.
His day actually starts out pretty good, he picks up his tux for prom, the last couple of years had added a little bit of bulk to his shoulders, and him dropping lacrosse for track had left him, although looking nothing like Derek, with a leanly muscled look that kind of suited him. Although he would never admit it under pain of death but growing out his buzz cut had made him look older, less baby faced, and the tux, plain black with a ridiculously, stupidly difficult bow tie actually looks pretty fantastic on him. His dad’s face is a picture as Stiles turns from his mirror fiddling with the stupid bow tie, his eyes shiny and a little red, a look of fierce pride on his face and makes Stiles feel amazing.
He knows his dad worried a lot, about how Stiles would fit in, about the trouble he got into, the trouble he got his dad into and now here they are, Stiles less than three months away from starting a Lit degree at Georgetown (Stiles doesn’t even remember how he managed to get in), although not the most popular kid in school he has friends, good friends, solid ones who would lay down in traffic and, hell, even fight vampires and werewolves and the Volturi for him. Not that Stiles has ever watched or read Twilight! There are just some things you know as a teenager when you date a teenage girl…right? Although he personally thought Aubrey was nuts, he was totally Team Jacob, Edward was a creepy ass stalker, give him a werewolf any day.
Ok and not for the first time, he thanks God his dad has no idea of the mental dialogue that runs through his head at all times of the day.
“You look good son,” his dad says, thankfully breaking him out of his twilight centric thoughts. “you look like…a man”
“Well good job,” Stiles quips. “After all I was born as one, I was born as one right? You aren’t one of those parents who had to make that… no wait, know what? Even if you did, I wouldn’t want to know.” His mile is wide as his father shakes his head and starts to grin, he hates the idea of his father crying, happy or sad tears.
“Pity your mouth hasn’t caught up with your body,” he says, although the tone has no bite and Stiles knows, no matter what, right at this very moment his dad is proud of him and that feels…well it feels pretty damn great.
“Hello son,” his dad says wryly, his head moving from Stiles to the window behind him and Stiles sends up a prayer of thanks, that his dad is cool enough to not mind the fact that his best friend has a window fetish. Turning round, the grin wide on his face, he’s surprised to see Scott standing there and not Derek, jeez was this window thing catching?
“What’s up buddy?” Stiles asks, unravelling his tie as Scott flops down on the bed.
“We need to talk,” Scott replies, his voice taking on a tone of seriousness that Stiles rarely heard from him, in fact the last time Scott looked this serious was the night his dad left. Stiles mind starts filling in the blanks, each scenario leaving him more worried than the last.
“I’ll leave you both to it,” his dad smiles at both of them and shuts the door.
“What’s wrong? Did you and Derek start fighting again? Cos I’ve told you before I’m not getting in the middle of that shit again. Is it Allison, did her dad go nuts again? I’ve warned you about sneaking into her room he isn’t stupid you know, is it your mum, oh jeez Scott is it your mum?”
“No, no,” Scott puts his hand up, cutting Stiles’s words of quickly seeing at a glance that his friend’s heading towards major panic. “It’s nothing like that, well not quite, it is about Derek though.”
“What about him?” Stiles asks. “Look if you’re going to start on the prom limo again, you need to calm down, I’ve told you it is..”
“No,” Scott bites out, this time a little more forcefully. “It’s about you and Derek.”
“What about us?” Stiles replies confused. God, he hates when Scott’s like this, his face showing he totally doesn’t want to say what’s on his mind and Stiles knows he’s going to have to drag every damn word out of him.
“You need to tell Aubrey the truth about Derek, about you and Derek, about your feelings for Derek. And while you are at it, I think you should maybe talk to Derek too.” Scott says all the words in a rush as if he’s trying to force them out unwillingly.
“I…..look…Scott…..I don’t know…..there is no me and Derek,” Stiles finally finishes, the words ringing around the room, leaving him empty and hollowed out. It’s the first time he has ever said them out loud and if anything, it hurts worse than all of the times he’s told himself them in his head.
“Stiles,” Scott says softly. “It’s ok you know, I figured it out a while ago, I know I’m not always the quickest out of the stall but it has been pretty obvious for a while.”
The wind goes completely out of Stiles’s sails at Scott’s softly spoken words.
“I didn’t think it was….God Scott how did this all get so fucked up?” Stiles can feel the tears stinging the back of his eyes, the look of gentleness underlined by pity on Scott’s face making him feel like he’s coming undone. “Do you think he knows?” Stiles asks, his voice cracking, even as he knows the answer, of course Derek knows, the amount of times Stiles has thrown himself in his lap, he has to.
“I don’t know,” Scott answers, his brow furrowing. “Sometimes I think he does, something about the way he looks at you.” Stiles cuts the conversation dead at Scott’s words, he does not need to know about Derek staring at him with pity, feeling sorry for the friend with the stupid crush.
“Look Scott, it doesn’t matter, I mean it does, but I’ve gotten used to it by now and we’re friends and…”
“What about Aubrey?” Scott cuts in.
“What?” Stiles asks confused. “What about her? She has nothing to do with this.”
“Nothing to do with it? Stiles are you serious?” Scott’s voice is starting to rise, a look of disbelief and almost anger on his face and, ok, that’s a new one. “Stiles the girl is in love with you.”
Stiles opens his mouth to interject but is cut dead by Scott. “No don’t give me the you don’t think she is. I’ve watched her, the girl is head over heels for you, and what you are doing isn’t fair. You are my friend, my best friend and I know you, you aren’t cruel or mean but what you are doing with her is both. Imagine you thought Derek loved you back.” Scott’s voice pauses briefly and he looks contrite as Stiles flinches at his words. “Look buddy I’m sorry but imagine you were with Derek and you thought everything was fantastic, and you found out the whole time he was with you he loved someone else, can you think for a second what that would feel like? That’s what you’re doing to Aubrey.”
Stiles starts to shake his head, wanting the denial to be clear and strong but Scott’s right, dammit Scot’s right! He knows, Stiles does, has always known that Aubrey had fallen for him, in a lot of ways he used that love as a balm to soothe the pain of Derek not feeling the same way. Aubrey loving him had proven that he could be loved, that someone loved him, that someone wanted him. But none of it had been fair to her.
Clearing his throat he blinks back the tears, God he’s turning into such a wreck, looking at Scott it’s hard not to smile through the tears, his face’s concerned but resolute and a little freaked out at seeing Stiles cry. Stiles knows his friend would do anything to take this pain away from him, but he won’t let him do it by hurting someone else. For the first time he sees the shape of the man Scott’s going to be and he realises that he isn’t the only one growing up, and that Allison is a lucky girl.
“You’re right,” Stiles states sadly. “I’ve been an asshole, no seriously,” he continues as Scott tries to wave his hand over the words. “What I’ve been doing isn’t fair to anyone, to me, to Derek and definitely isn’t fair to Aubrey. She’s coming over tonight, I’ll talk to her then.”
Scott made a small sound in his throat, a cross between a moan and a sigh, as if he just realised that what he’d done meant this buddy’s alone again. Stiles puts a stop to it quickly, no way is he going to let Scott feel bad about doing the right thing.
“Seriously buddy it’s fine, although you may have to cough up more for the limo, I don’t think Aubrey is going to take this like Erica did.”
Scott’s heartfelt groan makes Stiles smile again, it was always good to know that no matter how many things changed, some things would always remain the same.
…
In the end, Stiles finds out that breaking someone’s heart is far quicker and far suckier than he could ever have imagined. Aubrey cries, a lot. She asks Stiles repeatedly what had gone wrong, no matter what he says to her, nothing seems to make her realise that it wasn’t anything she had done.
She cries, she screams, rants about how people don’t fall out of love that easy, that there has to be something but Stiles sticks firm no matter how much seeing tears streaming down her cheeks makes him want to stab his own heart and pull her close. There’s nothing, he just doesn’t feel that way anymore. Of course he could go for the unvarnished truth, that he never actually loved her to begin with but he isn’t that cruel and he also likes having all of his man parts in tact.
She leaves having moved from upset to furious, and then the text messages start.
He tries to answer all of them, each and every single one as truthfully as he can without hurting her anymore, but he falls asleep at 3am and wakes up to seven new messages the next morning.
Seven messages that he just can’t seem to find the right words to answer.
…
School is a nightmare, in a town as small as Beacon Hills, news travels fast, and Aubrey’s friends were quick to tell her side of the story. Depending on who you spoke to that morning, Stiles had been dumped for a lacrosse player, had dumped Aubrey for an affair with an older neighbour/A freshman/or the coach of the lacrosse team and Stiles was gay and having an affair with Danny Mahealani. It’s pretty ironic that the one closest to the truth’s the one discounted the quickest, but he’s pretty sure that was more because everyone knew Danny wasn’t Stiles’s type more than Stiles not being gay.
He walks in on at least three of his friends in the middle of shutting down arguments and rumours, the most entertaining of those is when one of the cheerleaders repeats the Coach rumour to Erica, who then turns on full on mama bitch mode and leaves the girl questioning her sanity, her taste in boyfriends and, he thinks, her dress sense.
By the end of the day Stiles is shattered, he avoids the lunchroom completely and slides onto his seat next to Derek in history, surprised but pleased by the soft shoulder bump he gets as his butt hits the seat.
“So Coach Finstock huh? That was enlightening.”
“Shut up,” Stiles says, trying to ignore the smile he feel creeping across his face at Derek’s soft, teasing tone and their legs, flush against each other, making Stiles feel warm for the first time in a long time.
“But no seriously is it true you can do that with your legs?”
“You’re a dick,” Stiles replies, looking over to see a small smile on Derek’s face.
“And that thing you did with the ice cream, wasn’t that a little messy.”
“A dick,” Stiles repeates forcefully, his fist bumping against Derek’s arm in the lamest punch ever.
“Ow,” Derek replies, his hand rubbing the spot. “Is that what your manly coach lover taught you to do?”
“Fuck you.” Stiles laughs.
“Oh if we could, but I don’t want kicked off the lacrosse team.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
Stiles smiles at the now wide grin on Derek’s face, it might not be perfect, he might still fell crappy, and guilty and just a little bit lonely, but for the first time that day, he realises he’s going to be ok.
…
It doesn’t change anything, breaking up with Aubrey, or Derek breaking up with Erica, sure he feels lighter, can breathe a bit easier but other than that life just shifts back into a familiar pattern, lunch with friends, and as the prom draws nearer and nearer, and then suddenly prom is tomorrow, talk of dresses and cars and who would be spiking the punch dominates every conversation.
“We gotta go,” Lydia announces standing up and grabbing Allison. “Dresses to plan, things to do,” she sing songs. “Erica?” she asks a question in her voice, but no one is particularly surprised when Erica shakes her head. “Nope I’m good here.”
“Ok,” Lydia answers with a smile before linking arms and wandering off to God knows where. Stiles still doesn’t have a handle on girls just yet and the whole Erica/Lydia truce was just one of the many ways in which he feels he never will. He watches them go and quickly scans the room for Derek, it’s pretty unusual for him not to join them for lunch. Room scanned and Derek still not located, it takes little time for Stiles to sink into some kind of self depreciating depression, thinking Derek and he are now single both single, but still not even close to being the way Stiles wishes they could be.
He sighs, and misses when Erica slides into the seat next to him and lays her hand on his thigh.
“You ok kiddo?” she asks softly, her smile soft and sweet and Stiles swallows round the lump in his throat.
“I’m good,” he shrugs and watches as Derek and Scott laugh about something.
“You sure cos you’re kinda looking like someone killed your puppy,” she cocks her head to the side and Stiles rolls his eyes, runs his hand over his hair. He’s still not used to the length yet and Erica sighs as she reaches forward and pats it back into place.
“I don’t have a puppy,” he grins and Erica rolls her eyes.
“Wise guy,” she mutters and then turns in her chair to look at him face on, “you gotta tell him Stiles.”
“Tell who what?” Stiles asks with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Derek,” Erica lowers her voice, “you gotta tell him how you feel because you know what? I feel like we’ve all wasted enough time…so tell him…please,” Erica squeezes his knee.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stiles mutters and crosses his arms over his chest and Erica gives him that look, the one that makes Stiles squirm in his seat.
“Stiles...I’ve known for ages,” she admits and then she looks guilty and sad. “I feel like I have to apologise to you.”
“For what?”
“For being selfish, for keeping Derek with me when I knew he wanted to be with you.”
“He doesn’t want that,” Stiles shakes his head and tries to keep the quiver out of his voice. Erica lifts his chin with her fingers.
“You sure? Because believe me Stiles, I have made a sport of watching the both of you, and Jesus I have never seen anything like it. They way you look at each other…it’s like…”
“But…you and Derek,” Stiles interrupts and Erica raises one eye brow.
“I fell hard for someone Stiles, when I first got here, but…he wouldn’t look twice at me, Derek did, and Derek became my security, as much as I became his because he was in love with his best friend. We were both selfish, but I’ve got the chance to put things right now. To push you towards who you should be with, so do me a favour and tell him how you feel about him,”
“What about you?” Stiles twists his fingers together and Erica smiles secretly, squeezes his hand briefly and runs her thumb over his knuckles.
“I’m going to do what I should have done when I first got here,” she kisses his cheek and stands, takes a deep breath and stride across the dining room towards Isaac. Stiles watches as his eyes widen and a blush appears on his cheeks as Erica sits down in front of him. But there’s something in his eyes which tells Stiles he feels exactly the same about Erica as she does about him.
And he makes a mental note to get the whole story out of Erica tomorrow at the prom.
…
A part of Stiles thought it would be more, more glamorous, more amazing, more something but in the end it’s just the high school gym, a few streamers and a band that was only chosen by a few select members of the year who throughout high school had determined everything to who was cool to what the school budget got spent on.
He knows he sounds bitter and he will never voice any of this to Lydia as he knows, not only is she one of those select few, but she has worked her ass off on all of this but it just left him feeling…disappointed.
The limo ride was awesome, climbing into the back seat of a car with the people that matter most to him, the people who actually helped him survive high school. Every single one of them meaning something to him, even Jackson, who actually managed to become slightly less of a douchebag than he had once appeared.
Squeezed in between Scott and Derek, his thigh pressing against Derek, listening to Allison and Erica and Lydia’s laughter, seeing Derek’s wide smile, Scott’s besotted grin, and Isaac’s shy looks at Erica under his lashes. Taking shots of something that tasted of aniseed and wickedness with Boyd, Jackson and Danny, listening to Derek and Scott warning him of regretting it in the morning and Derek’s hand guiding him back to his seat. All of it is perfect, this is what high school is about. Shaping you up to be the man you want to try to be, the man other people believe you can be and being surrounded by the people who help you discover who that is.
Once they get inside though everything just sort of fizzles, now here he is, at his High School Senior prom. He watches Jackson and Lydia be crowned King and Queen, whoops and cheers with everyone else because they deserve it. He smiles as Allison and Scott disappear through the crowd and then he watches Isaac ask Erica to dance. She looks classic tonight, incredible and classic, with her hair in a low twisted knot and she blushes prettily as Isaac holds out his hand to her. Stiles finds it hard to hold back a smile, at least until he had sees Derek watching them, before leaving the room a look of desolation on his face. It had been at that exact moment, the magic had fizzles.
Heading outside he realises the night is done for him, he doesn’t want long drawn out pleas to stay, better to head off now, let everyone else enjoy the night. To disappear and wake up tomorrow with a clear head.
At least was the plan until he sees Derek sitting on the steps, staring at something in his hand, looking for all the world like someone has stolen his best friend and kicked his puppy for good measure.
It takes him less than two seconds to change course, to head towards the one of the few people in the world that he can’t bear to see sad, ever.
“Hey buddy,” Stiles says easily, plopping himself down on the stair besides Derek.
The slight ‘hey’ he gets in return forces him to look down, to find something to start the conversation, to make this less awkward . But as soon as he catches glimpse of what twists around Derek’s fingers his chest feels too tight to breathe.
“Why have you for a hotel key?” The words are out of his mouth before his brain can catch up. He could have figured it out himself if he’d taken a moment, he sighs heavily as Derek twists the key over his fingers.
“I planned on maybe using it,” Derek replies almost sadly.
“Planning to finally win our bet,” Stiles jokes, his attempt to lighten the mood falling flat, as the words land heavily between them.
“No.” Derek states forcefully. “It wasn’t for sex, well at least I don’t think so, I just wanted to do something special, something different, something that would make sure this night would stand out, you know what I mean?”
Stiles does, he wishes he doesn’t but he understands only too well, he knows exactly how he would have liked this night to work out for him.
“Then why are you acting like you don’t give a shit?” He finds himself asking. He wishes he could leave it, but like a scab that needs picking no matter how much it hurt he keeps digging. “I mean, look, I get she thinks she has this thing for Isaac, but maybe that’s because you’re acting like you didn’t give a shit, if you told her how you feel, maybe that would be different, in fact no maybes, it would be different, you are Derek fucking Hale for Christ’s sake.”
Even as the words come out of his mouth out his brain s arguing with him to just shut the hell up, what the fuck is he doing, does he like pain, because that would be the only explanation in the world that would explain arguing with the guy he loves to go get his girlfriend back. But no he loves Derek and he adores Erica and if Stiles can’t have the life he wants, he can at least see the people he loves happy.
Stiles dares to sneak a peek to see how he’s taking it, he expects pissed off, Derek hates being told he’s wrong, especially by Stiles, hates even more being told what to do and right now Stiles is doing both. What he isn’t expecting is for Derek to be looking at him like he’s the stupidest person he has ever met (ok kind of expecting he, he gets that look a lot to be honest). A mixture of anger and befuddlement on his face, but it’s his eyes that tell the most, they aren’t angry or confused, they are dark and empty and just look lost.
“You really don’t get it,” Derek murmurs under his breath. “How the fuck, after all this time, can you just not get it? Know what? Never mind.” Derek goes to push himself up and there is the anger Stiles had been expecting.
The smart thing to do now would be to stop picking the scab, but hey Stiles never said he was all that smart when it comes to Derek.
“I don’t get what?” he asks, his tone showing his confusion. “I don’t get what it is like to love someone and want them to love me back? I don’t get what it is like to watch that person with someone else and wish I could do something, anything to make them look at me? That I don’t get what it is like to hurt every single day because I love them with every fucking ounce of my body and I cant even tell them? I get that Derek trust me, and if that is what you are feeling right now then you owe it to yourself, to me and to Erica to just go into that hall and tell her.”
Derek is standing stock still, the anger seems to seeping out of him as Stiles rants. The dank oppressive feel of depression is moving, shifting.
“That’s the part you don’t get,” Derek says a smile on his face. “It’s not about Erica, it never was.”
Stiles feels the shift almost perceptively this time, it’s hard to dampen down the hope that’s shooting through him, but he tries, just because it isn’t Erica doesn’t mean... But God who else would it be? Unless Derek has been harbouring a secret crush on Scott, or Lydia, or Dear God Jackson. Stiles doesn’t realise he’s talking out loud until he hears Derek groan.
“For the love of God Stiles of course it’s not Jackson.”
Stiles is going to protest, is going to say something witty, or funny or at least something that makes more sense than this conversation, but he doesn’t get the chance to, before he can speak Derek’s there, pulling him into him, their bodies jarring together. It isn’t like Aubrey, or even like the last time they kissed. Derek’s mouth is covering his, their bodies so close together almost uncomfortably so. There’s no softness of breasts, or soft skin, Derek’s made of hard lines, and stubbled skin that rubs and chafes. There’s no soft sweet kisses that taste of honey, instead there’s a mouth that feels like it’s claiming him, moving against his, taking everything he has. There’s no small hand, fingers playing against his jaw, there’s a huge hand, calluses at the base of the fingers, cupping at Stiles’s face, fingers pressing in behind his ear. It feels hard and rough and desperate. It feels amazing, it feels like coming home.
He’s dimly aware of the needy moan that he pushes into Derek’s mouth and then feels more than hears the whisper against his lips, the softly spoken “It’s you Stiles, it always was.” He doesn’t know how he has the strength to reply but his mouth is always quicker than his brain, and it’s hard to stop the words falling.
“So Erica was right,” he states, as he pulls back from Derek, more than a little dazed, drinking in the sight of Derek’s smile, of his eyes, dark and hooded, his pupils blown wide open with want, for Stiles.
"Right about what?" Derek asks, his mouth moving up Stiles’s jaw in a way that’s far too distracting.
“Well she knew that I was harbouring certain feelings for a tall dark handsome moron and she seemed to think that maybe he might feel the same way?" Stiles replies, and he totally does not squeak the end of that sentence as Derek’s teeth nip at his earlobe and his hand flattens against the small of Stiles’s back, bringing their hips flush together. .
“Which is?” He can feel Derek smile against his neck.
“God, you’re going to make me do all of this aren’t you?” Stiles huffs, although the smile growing on his face at the same rate as the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest belies his annoyance.
“You are emotionally retarded you get that right?”
Derek pulls back with what seems more than a little difficulty, dragging his mouth away from Stiles’s neck, but not before sucking a bruise onto the soft skin in a way that makes Stiles’s knees go weak. Derek’s eyes are soft and bright, but there’s lust burning in them, the twist of his lips and look of almost overwhelming fondness tells Stiles far more than a couple of words ever could.
“Ok, I love you, you happy now, not only that cos to be fair you’re my best friend and I’ve always loved you but that love is now being matched with an equal need to jump your bones and attack your lips with my mouth, happy?”
“So whats stopping you?” Derek asks, with a quirk of his eyebrow and a twitch of his fingers against Stiles’s back.
“Um…” Stiles runs a hand across the back of his neck, “the fact that we’re outside…in public, and as much as my dad loves you, I don’t think he will if you gets a call saying you’re taking advantage of me in the school parking lot,” Derek nudges his nose against Stiles’s and rumbles out a laugh from his chest.
“Taking advantage?”
“Well I am younger…more innocent…easily lead astray…” Stiles words die as Derek drags his teeth gently down his chin, his grip tightening on Stiles. He pulls back suddenly, the easily amusement, the softness gone from his face replaced with curiosity and a hint of pain.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks and Stiles knows what he’s asking, but doesn’t want to have to relive the depression, the hurt from the last god knows how long, sometimes it seems like a lifetime.
“That I’m younger?” he quips, “Well Derek I know you’re not great at Math but even you could work that out…” Derek cuts him off again with a small, almost unheard growl, moving his arms to Stiles’s and gripping tight.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The first word out of your mouth after we kissed,” Stiles says before he has time to stop himself, “was Erica…,” Derek’s nostrils twitch and his grip relaxes, “I thought…”
“I was trying to tell you everything…” Derek sighs out, moving his hand around Stiles again to the flat of his back, the other coming up to run his finger tips across Stiles’s cheek, “and then we made that stupid bet,” he shakes his head, “and then I promised to play nice even though it killed me to see you with her,” Derek’s grip tightens again, pulling Stiles closer and he can see the dark lust flash in his eyes again.
“Possessive much,” he jokes and Derek doesn’t smile, just presses his thumb under Stiles’s chin to force his head back slightly.
“You have no idea,” he says before kissing Stiles. It’s not hard, it’s not desperate and needy and it’s not soft and exploring. It’s possession, in kiss form, it’s Derek saying I love you, I need you, never fucking leave me, all in one simple kiss and when he pulls away Stiles takes a second to reel in the overwhelming emotions.
“So…,” his voice cracks, throat dry, “there’s a hotel room somewhere?” Derek arches an eyebrow and his fingers twitch against the small of Stiles’s back.
“Where’s the Jeep?”
…
They don’t make it to the hotel room, Derek growls out “pull over” half way there and attacks Stiles’s mouth with his own, hauls him into the back and worms his hand down Stiles’s tux pants. Stiles groans, arches, trails nails down Derek’s back as Derek thumbs the slit in his dick. There’s a brief pause, a tangle of limbs and shirts and pants but then gloriously, finally, there’s skin against skin and Derek spits into his hand, wraps it around both of them and twists it, slides it upwards, runs his palm over the tip of Stiles’s and back down both of them again. Stiles may or may not let out a string of curses that turns the air between them blue, and he may or may not chant Derek’s name as Derek’s dick slides against his own.
“Tell me again,” Derek grinds out, skin slick and hot against Stiles’s, his lips brushing over the pulse in Stiles’s neck, “tell me.”
“I love you,” Stiles winds his hands into Derek’s hair, pulls his head up and back down, kisses him hard and arches his hips into Derek’s tight grip. He comes, with Derek’s teeth pressing into the soft skin of his bottom lip, “Derek.”
Derek comes then, a groan, a rumble in his chest, his come hot against Stiles’s stomach, his head pressed to Stiles’s neck and Stiles tightens his grip on his hair.
“You too,” Derek mutters, lazily licks at Stiles’s throat, up his underside of his chin, into his mouth.
Stiles wakes God knows how many hours later, shivering in the back of his jeep, with cramp in his right thigh, and come dried and flaky on his stomach. But Derek’s got an arm around him, his chest pressed to Stiles’s back and his nose smashed up against the back of Stiles’s neck.
Stiles has never been happier.
It takes a while for things to slot back the way they were. For a short time there’s a layer of awkwardness over their conversations, as if they are each worried the other is still angry and almost afraid of any physical contact, of course that ends not long after the Isaac and Jackson debacle when they share the particularly awesome experience of watching the quietest kid in class finally take enough of Jackson’s shit and explode, sending the school bully into a heap on the lacrosse field. They have to drag Isaac off and then watch Jackson take the walk of shame, caked in mud.
It’s epic.
The event causes three distinct things to happen. The first being that Jackson actually seems to respect people who stand up to him, something they should have maybe figured out with his friendship with Danny, and became friendly with Isaac (if Stiles had known he would have punched Jackson in the face years ago). The second that Isaac finally seems to come out of his shell and together with another loner Boyd, starts actually talking to people, he even hangs out Stiles and Derek a few times but always ends up drifting back towards Jackson and Danny, something about Derek and Erica just seems to make him uneasy, even though Erica is nothing but nice to him and sometimes Stiles thinks he sees hearts in Isaac’s eyes when he talks to her. And thirdly Stiles and Derek end up in a heap on top of each other on the lacrosse field after pulling the guys apart with cat calls, wolf whistles and even a remark by their team mate Matt that he thought they made a ‘great pair’ (Stiles still wonders if he was being serious) they end up getting past the awkwardness and go back to almost exactly the way they used to be. Of course every now and then Stiles feels eyes on him and swears that Derek’s staring, but when he looks up, he usually finds Derek engrossed in a book or conversation with friends.
Stiles is also getting far better at coping with the touching.
See, Derek’s never been much of a tactile person with anyone the only exceptions being Laura, Erica and Stiles, it has never been a problem before but now, Stiles seems to notice every single touch. Like the way they always end up together at group movie nights, Derek’s body pressed against his, his thigh warm and comfortable, the way he casually runs his hand over Stiles’s buzz cut before cupping the back of his head and pulling in for a hug, the way their fingers always seem to touch as they pour over books together, or meeting as they both share some fries at the diner. So many casual almost indiscriminate touches that Derek never seems to notice but that make Stiles’s nerves tingle, his skin retaining the memory of every touch. So much so that sometimes Stiles thinks he’ll always feel Derek.
…
“Ok dude…this movie…is going…to blow…your…mind,” Stiles produces the DVD case from behind his back with a flourish, but not before he catches the unimpressed look from Derek.
Scott’s sneaking around with Allison, Erica’s got family night and Aubrey is away with her family for the weekend, leaving no one but Derek to hang out with. Not that Stiles doesn’t want to hang out with Derek, just that it’s tempting to just reach out and touch him whenever he feels like it except he knows he can’t.
“District 9?” Derek arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks the picture of comfort, legs crossed at the ankles, leaning back against Stiles’s headboard, but Stiles can see a slight hint of tension running through his body.
“Yes, District 9, it’s basically apartheid with Aliens,” Stiles punches the open button on his DVD player and puts the DVD in, punches the button against the bounces onto the bed beside Derek. Derek shifts to the side and Stiles leans back against the headboard, his whole body touching Derek’s from shoulder to knee. He should move, he knows he should, there’s enough room that they don’t have to sit this close but Stiles can’t seem to pull himself away from the heat radiating from Derek’s body.
“I reserve judgement,” Derek mutters as Stiles presses play and then digs him in the ribs with his elbow. Derek scowl, rubs at his ribs and scowls some more.
“You’ll love it,” he says, and shuffles around, ignores Derek’s sigh, and settles as the credits roll.
…
Stiles wakes to find his face smooshed into Derek’s thigh and Derek’s fingers running through his hair as Wikus Van Der Merwe watches Christopher’s ship taking off over the streets of Johannesburg. He let’s himself revel in the feel of Derek’s fingers for a moment, taking pleasure from the way his nails catch against his scalp every now and then.
“I hope you’re not drooling on my jeans,” Derek mutters and Stiles jumps, pushes himself up right and rubs a hand across his face.
“My drool would only make them better,” he says and Derek rolls his eyes and reaches for the remote.
“You were right,” he says and Stiles blinks.
“About your jeans?”
“No, idiot, the movie…mind blown,” Derek grins and flexes his fingers and Stiles tries to ignore the tingling against his scalp.
“Told you,” he says and Derek punches him lightly on the arm.
“Guess I should trust you more often hey?” Derek moves, stands and stretches, reveals a strip of skin between his (un-drooled on) jeans and his soft marl grey t-shirt.
“I guess so,” mutters and licks at his lips. Derek clears his throat, drags his shirt back down and hooks a thumb in the direction of the window.
“I should probably…” Stiles nods, and resists the urge to smack himself in the head. For God’s sake Stiles, he thinks, control yourself. It was just skin. Tanned, smooth, perfect skin that will probably feel like satin under your…shut up.
“Ok,” he grins through his minds internal argument and Derek frowns slightly.
“See you tomorrow though,” it’s posed as a question but Stiles grins at him as Derek hooks one leg out of the window.
“Unless the world ends tonight,” he offers his usual farewell and Derek lets out a small laugh. Stiles tries not to dance, he may have ogled his best friend who wants nothing romantic (or sexual) to do with him, but he’s still using their inside joke, still making Stiles say the same thing they say every time Derek crawls out of his window.
“We’re not due an apocalypse,” Derek replies, taps on the window ledge and lowers himself almost out of sight.
“Night Derek,” Derek pauses, looks at Stiles long, his eyes unreadable.
“Night Stiles.”
…
Unfortunately Danny’s too damn lovable.
It’s supposed to be a guys night out, they’re invited along by Isaac, who seems to have less of a problem with Derek when Erica isn’t there. They grab their fake ID’s and hit the nightclubs along the strip. Somewhere along the line of bars that merge into one the more beers Stiles has, Danny suggests they head to Jungle which is how he finds himself in a gay bar, being hit on by the hottest guy he has ever seen before in his life, well besides Derek.
Stiles has always assumed the only action he would get from a gay bar would be the drag queens wanting to mother him (and they do for the first half an hour they make it into the club), so when people starts buying him drinks, coming over to chat to him, even dragging him onto the dance floor and ok handsy touching is all the rage in gay bars, apparently, he’s surprised, flattered and pleased enough to ignore Derek’s growl of warning. He continues to ignore his best friends eyes glaring at him and whoever his current dance partner happens to be at the time, sure he might have some Dutch courage from the six beers he’s had and whatever that pink drink was (his vision is swimming slightly), but Derek isn’t the boss of him. Just because he doesn’t want Stiles doesn’t mean… Stiles ends that thought quickly enough, he may be drunk but he’s smart enough to know that way lies madness.
Several more drinks later and every caution is slung to the wind and rather than finding Derek’s eyes boring into his back intimidating, he’s starting to find it almost a turn on. The guy he’s dancing with now is built like Derek, all broad shoulders and huge arms, he even has similar hair and hint of stubble, in fact if Stiles squints….not that he’s squinting of course.
Of course it shouldn’t come as a surprise when he feels Derek crowd around him, moving in front of him and telling his hunky dance partner to fuck off, because the one thing even more certain than Stiles’s hopeless crush on his best friend, is that his best friend is a clueless interfering asshole who never sees what’s right in front of him.
“Dude, what the fuck, I was dancing with him,” Stiles whines.
“Dancing, that what you call it?” Derek asks, a thread of steel in his voice.
“Well yeah, we are on the dancefloor, there is music, we were moving in time with the music, what would you call it?” Stiles answers, the barb in his voice clear even over the pounding music.
“Well if I was your girlfriend and I saw that, I’d go with cheating,” Derek snaps, his hand shooting out to grab Stiles as he turns away.
Stiles sees red, all the crap he’s been feeling over the last few months spilling out with the alcohol and the anger. “Well you’re not my girlfriend and you are not my keeper Derek so fuck off.”
Stiles pulls his arm away and turns to leave the dance floor, his temper spiking as Derek shoves his way in front of him, he takes a breath ready to head into round two with his so called buddy, when Derek’s next words knock the very breath out of his body.
“You want to dance? Dance with me.”
Stiles looks at Derek, takes in the tense rigid stance of his body and the total sincerity in his eyes.
“You can’t dance,” were the only words that made it out of Stiles mouth.
“So teach me,” comes the soft reply.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t think I care anymore.”
Everything in Stiles head screams that this is the wrong move, that whatever else is happening this is just going to make it worse, but his body doesn’t seem to be willing to listen, it moves as if pulled by the same magnetic force it had been subjected to before when Derek’s lips were against his own, moving towards Derek, to the smell, the feel of home. And Stiles thinks it might be the alcohol that’s making him sound like a poetry major. Their bodies slot together as if they are made this way and for a moment, just one brief moment Stiles thinks perhaps he can have this. Not everything, not Derek the way he wants him, but he can have this.
Their bodies move slowly, following each others rhythm rather than the music. His hands are on Derek’s chest, flexing gently against the soft grey t-shirt. His fingers feel like they are being lit with sparks, like when you were a kid and you rubbed your feet against the carpet until you felt the electricity spark. He can hear Derek’s breathing as he pulls Stiles in closer, his lips aligned with Stiles ear and Stiles closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets the feeling take over.
It’s like time stands still and everything zeroes down to just this, to him and Derek. All he can think about is the solid weight of Derek’s chest beneath his fingers, the steady heartbeat that Stiles swears skips slightly as Stiles whisper his name. The feel of Derek’s breath warm on his ear and the smell of grass, cologne and mints that his mind had long ago associated with Derek without ever being truly aware of it, makes him feel…alive.
The soft sound of his name in reply causes Stiles to pull his head back, his eyes falling to Derek’s lips, the magnetic pull coming back in full force. His lips are less than a whisper away when his brain finally kicks in, reminding him with brutal clarity that this isn’t a smart thing, isn’t the right thing, that this way, all that will happen is he’d hurt two people he cares about and lose his best friend forever. A small part of him registers Derek licking his lips, the look in his eyes, worried, confused makes Stiles pull back abruptly.
“I’m sorry……I shouldn’t have….I’m drunk…..it’s…..oh god I’m sorry.”
Stiles runs from the dance floor, ignoring Derek’s panicked calling of his name, he runs out of the club and ducks into the alley sitting alongside, he tries to control his breathing as he hears his friends pile out of the club looking for him, melts back into the wall. He really truly should not be allowed to drink.
Banging his head against the wall again and again, the tears spill over, run down his cheeks, the mantra of ‘stupid, stupid, stupid’ falling from his lips.
How the hell is he going to move forward from this one?
…
As it happens, he applies his same brand of blind ignorance as the last time. He ignores his dad telling him Derek was looking for him, ignores Derek’s repeated calls and the text message, short and (not so) sweet.
We need to talk
He ignores all of them and calls Aubrey first thing the next morning, inviting her over to watch films as he nurses his hangover. He tries not to feel guilty at her pleased eagerness, and he assuages that guilt by throwing himself into kissing her. Lying on his bed, his guilt allows things to go further than they ever have before, within minutes he has Aubrey’s top and bra off, he’s shucked off his own top sitting in just his jeans, his mouth covering her neck with short, sharp, sweet bites, wishing with his whole heart that her soft skin under his fingers could bring the same reaction that the feel of Derek’s heartbeat had the night before.
And that’s how Derek finds them, his eyes wide with shock, anger and something Stiles has never seen before. He backs out of the room, apologies falling from his lips as Aubrey frantically covers herself, the embarrassed flush on her cheeks staying with him as she nearly runs from the room, a quick kiss to his lips, the pleased smile on her face warring with her embarrassment.
The next day at school he waits for the reaction, for a word, a comment, anything. But Derek acts like none of it happened, not the dance or the situation in Stiles’s bedroom the day before. And Stiles comes to the sickening conclusion that in catching him and Aubrey the day before, Derek has the reassurance he needs that his best friend isn’t going to try and jump his bones, and so things slots back to normal.
And if Stiles noticed that it’s around about the same time Derek stops touching him, that the friendly hugs vanish, that Derek now sits with Erica in between them both at group movie nights, well that’s only to be expected, that’s what you do when you don’t want your best friend to start dry humping you in a club because you show them a little affection. That’s the price Stiles has to pay for not staying strong, for letting his guard down for even a second.
It could be worse though, he still has Aubrey, he still has Derek, or at least part of him, and he will never let his guard drop again, will never ever do anything again that will jeopardise the friendship he needs more than anything else in the world.
…
With a blink of an eye their Senior year is almost over and all anyone can talk about is Prom, who’s taking who, what people are wearing, take your own car or hire a limo, who had hired a hotel room. Aubrey has taken to dropping some pretty broad hints about them getting a room and it’s something he starts to consider, because that’s what you do right? And then something happens that turns everything on its head.
Erica and Derek break up.
Derek brings it up almost casually, over lunch with the girls all away at the prom decorating committee meeting.
“Erica and I broke up,” Stiles chokes on his water and drops his fork into his mash potato, his chest constricting painfully as Derek pushes his pork chop around his plate. Scott looks up surprised before stomping in with the finesse of a bull.
“Dude so does this mean you two aren’t chipping in for the limo? Cos I only have enough if we are all paying……ow,” Scott complains, staring at Stiles and rubbing his ankle. “Dude, that hurt.”
“No we are still going,” Derek says softly, a small smile on his face, “we’re just going as friends.”
“Dude, you ok?” Stiles asks, his voice soft and concerned. His heart skips as he’s rewarded with one of the first real smiles he’s been graced with for months and Derek’s fingers spreading on the table until their pinkies graze softly.
“I’m fine,” he replies. “It was something we both wanted, we both felt it was time we stopped…”
Whatever Derek had been about to say was drowned out as Allison, Erica and Aubrey descend on them, their chatter bright and happy. Stiles tries to catch Derek’s eye as Aubrey slides into his lap, her hand winding round his neck and playing with the hair she had convinced him to grow out for prom, but Derek’s looking at Scott and Allison, entering into relaxed conversation and almost appearing to avoid looking at Stiles and Aubrey.
Maybe he just wants to make it clear that just because he and his girlfriend are history that doesn’t open the floodgate to best friends with ridiculous crushes. He feels eyes on him and turns to find Erica staring at him, a soft, considering look on her face and he quickly enters into an inane conversation with Aubrey about a game he just picked up, the last thing he needs was any of his friends finding out about his idiocy, Derek had been pretty good at keeping things between just them.
This didn’t change anything, Derek would find someone else and with any luck Stiles would at least like them as much as he did Erica. Throwing himself back into the conversation about prom, teasing Erica about her scarlet red dress, he totally misses the eyes now following his face and hands as he talks about the under the sea theme, his voice bright with animation, his eyes sparkling. He totally misses the look of almost desperate longing on the face watching him, but other eyes caught it, caught the look and the almost manic desperation of Stiles’s conversation, and a decision was finally made.
…
Two days before prom Stiles finally learns what it feels like to break someone’s heart.
His day actually starts out pretty good, he picks up his tux for prom, the last couple of years had added a little bit of bulk to his shoulders, and him dropping lacrosse for track had left him, although looking nothing like Derek, with a leanly muscled look that kind of suited him. Although he would never admit it under pain of death but growing out his buzz cut had made him look older, less baby faced, and the tux, plain black with a ridiculously, stupidly difficult bow tie actually looks pretty fantastic on him. His dad’s face is a picture as Stiles turns from his mirror fiddling with the stupid bow tie, his eyes shiny and a little red, a look of fierce pride on his face and makes Stiles feel amazing.
He knows his dad worried a lot, about how Stiles would fit in, about the trouble he got into, the trouble he got his dad into and now here they are, Stiles less than three months away from starting a Lit degree at Georgetown (Stiles doesn’t even remember how he managed to get in), although not the most popular kid in school he has friends, good friends, solid ones who would lay down in traffic and, hell, even fight vampires and werewolves and the Volturi for him. Not that Stiles has ever watched or read Twilight! There are just some things you know as a teenager when you date a teenage girl…right? Although he personally thought Aubrey was nuts, he was totally Team Jacob, Edward was a creepy ass stalker, give him a werewolf any day.
Ok and not for the first time, he thanks God his dad has no idea of the mental dialogue that runs through his head at all times of the day.
“You look good son,” his dad says, thankfully breaking him out of his twilight centric thoughts. “you look like…a man”
“Well good job,” Stiles quips. “After all I was born as one, I was born as one right? You aren’t one of those parents who had to make that… no wait, know what? Even if you did, I wouldn’t want to know.” His mile is wide as his father shakes his head and starts to grin, he hates the idea of his father crying, happy or sad tears.
“Pity your mouth hasn’t caught up with your body,” he says, although the tone has no bite and Stiles knows, no matter what, right at this very moment his dad is proud of him and that feels…well it feels pretty damn great.
“Hello son,” his dad says wryly, his head moving from Stiles to the window behind him and Stiles sends up a prayer of thanks, that his dad is cool enough to not mind the fact that his best friend has a window fetish. Turning round, the grin wide on his face, he’s surprised to see Scott standing there and not Derek, jeez was this window thing catching?
“What’s up buddy?” Stiles asks, unravelling his tie as Scott flops down on the bed.
“We need to talk,” Scott replies, his voice taking on a tone of seriousness that Stiles rarely heard from him, in fact the last time Scott looked this serious was the night his dad left. Stiles mind starts filling in the blanks, each scenario leaving him more worried than the last.
“I’ll leave you both to it,” his dad smiles at both of them and shuts the door.
“What’s wrong? Did you and Derek start fighting again? Cos I’ve told you before I’m not getting in the middle of that shit again. Is it Allison, did her dad go nuts again? I’ve warned you about sneaking into her room he isn’t stupid you know, is it your mum, oh jeez Scott is it your mum?”
“No, no,” Scott puts his hand up, cutting Stiles’s words of quickly seeing at a glance that his friend’s heading towards major panic. “It’s nothing like that, well not quite, it is about Derek though.”
“What about him?” Stiles asks. “Look if you’re going to start on the prom limo again, you need to calm down, I’ve told you it is..”
“No,” Scott bites out, this time a little more forcefully. “It’s about you and Derek.”
“What about us?” Stiles replies confused. God, he hates when Scott’s like this, his face showing he totally doesn’t want to say what’s on his mind and Stiles knows he’s going to have to drag every damn word out of him.
“You need to tell Aubrey the truth about Derek, about you and Derek, about your feelings for Derek. And while you are at it, I think you should maybe talk to Derek too.” Scott says all the words in a rush as if he’s trying to force them out unwillingly.
“I…..look…Scott…..I don’t know…..there is no me and Derek,” Stiles finally finishes, the words ringing around the room, leaving him empty and hollowed out. It’s the first time he has ever said them out loud and if anything, it hurts worse than all of the times he’s told himself them in his head.
“Stiles,” Scott says softly. “It’s ok you know, I figured it out a while ago, I know I’m not always the quickest out of the stall but it has been pretty obvious for a while.”
The wind goes completely out of Stiles’s sails at Scott’s softly spoken words.
“I didn’t think it was….God Scott how did this all get so fucked up?” Stiles can feel the tears stinging the back of his eyes, the look of gentleness underlined by pity on Scott’s face making him feel like he’s coming undone. “Do you think he knows?” Stiles asks, his voice cracking, even as he knows the answer, of course Derek knows, the amount of times Stiles has thrown himself in his lap, he has to.
“I don’t know,” Scott answers, his brow furrowing. “Sometimes I think he does, something about the way he looks at you.” Stiles cuts the conversation dead at Scott’s words, he does not need to know about Derek staring at him with pity, feeling sorry for the friend with the stupid crush.
“Look Scott, it doesn’t matter, I mean it does, but I’ve gotten used to it by now and we’re friends and…”
“What about Aubrey?” Scott cuts in.
“What?” Stiles asks confused. “What about her? She has nothing to do with this.”
“Nothing to do with it? Stiles are you serious?” Scott’s voice is starting to rise, a look of disbelief and almost anger on his face and, ok, that’s a new one. “Stiles the girl is in love with you.”
Stiles opens his mouth to interject but is cut dead by Scott. “No don’t give me the you don’t think she is. I’ve watched her, the girl is head over heels for you, and what you are doing isn’t fair. You are my friend, my best friend and I know you, you aren’t cruel or mean but what you are doing with her is both. Imagine you thought Derek loved you back.” Scott’s voice pauses briefly and he looks contrite as Stiles flinches at his words. “Look buddy I’m sorry but imagine you were with Derek and you thought everything was fantastic, and you found out the whole time he was with you he loved someone else, can you think for a second what that would feel like? That’s what you’re doing to Aubrey.”
Stiles starts to shake his head, wanting the denial to be clear and strong but Scott’s right, dammit Scot’s right! He knows, Stiles does, has always known that Aubrey had fallen for him, in a lot of ways he used that love as a balm to soothe the pain of Derek not feeling the same way. Aubrey loving him had proven that he could be loved, that someone loved him, that someone wanted him. But none of it had been fair to her.
Clearing his throat he blinks back the tears, God he’s turning into such a wreck, looking at Scott it’s hard not to smile through the tears, his face’s concerned but resolute and a little freaked out at seeing Stiles cry. Stiles knows his friend would do anything to take this pain away from him, but he won’t let him do it by hurting someone else. For the first time he sees the shape of the man Scott’s going to be and he realises that he isn’t the only one growing up, and that Allison is a lucky girl.
“You’re right,” Stiles states sadly. “I’ve been an asshole, no seriously,” he continues as Scott tries to wave his hand over the words. “What I’ve been doing isn’t fair to anyone, to me, to Derek and definitely isn’t fair to Aubrey. She’s coming over tonight, I’ll talk to her then.”
Scott made a small sound in his throat, a cross between a moan and a sigh, as if he just realised that what he’d done meant this buddy’s alone again. Stiles puts a stop to it quickly, no way is he going to let Scott feel bad about doing the right thing.
“Seriously buddy it’s fine, although you may have to cough up more for the limo, I don’t think Aubrey is going to take this like Erica did.”
Scott’s heartfelt groan makes Stiles smile again, it was always good to know that no matter how many things changed, some things would always remain the same.
…
In the end, Stiles finds out that breaking someone’s heart is far quicker and far suckier than he could ever have imagined. Aubrey cries, a lot. She asks Stiles repeatedly what had gone wrong, no matter what he says to her, nothing seems to make her realise that it wasn’t anything she had done.
She cries, she screams, rants about how people don’t fall out of love that easy, that there has to be something but Stiles sticks firm no matter how much seeing tears streaming down her cheeks makes him want to stab his own heart and pull her close. There’s nothing, he just doesn’t feel that way anymore. Of course he could go for the unvarnished truth, that he never actually loved her to begin with but he isn’t that cruel and he also likes having all of his man parts in tact.
She leaves having moved from upset to furious, and then the text messages start.
He tries to answer all of them, each and every single one as truthfully as he can without hurting her anymore, but he falls asleep at 3am and wakes up to seven new messages the next morning.
Seven messages that he just can’t seem to find the right words to answer.
…
School is a nightmare, in a town as small as Beacon Hills, news travels fast, and Aubrey’s friends were quick to tell her side of the story. Depending on who you spoke to that morning, Stiles had been dumped for a lacrosse player, had dumped Aubrey for an affair with an older neighbour/A freshman/or the coach of the lacrosse team and Stiles was gay and having an affair with Danny Mahealani. It’s pretty ironic that the one closest to the truth’s the one discounted the quickest, but he’s pretty sure that was more because everyone knew Danny wasn’t Stiles’s type more than Stiles not being gay.
He walks in on at least three of his friends in the middle of shutting down arguments and rumours, the most entertaining of those is when one of the cheerleaders repeats the Coach rumour to Erica, who then turns on full on mama bitch mode and leaves the girl questioning her sanity, her taste in boyfriends and, he thinks, her dress sense.
By the end of the day Stiles is shattered, he avoids the lunchroom completely and slides onto his seat next to Derek in history, surprised but pleased by the soft shoulder bump he gets as his butt hits the seat.
“So Coach Finstock huh? That was enlightening.”
“Shut up,” Stiles says, trying to ignore the smile he feel creeping across his face at Derek’s soft, teasing tone and their legs, flush against each other, making Stiles feel warm for the first time in a long time.
“But no seriously is it true you can do that with your legs?”
“You’re a dick,” Stiles replies, looking over to see a small smile on Derek’s face.
“And that thing you did with the ice cream, wasn’t that a little messy.”
“A dick,” Stiles repeates forcefully, his fist bumping against Derek’s arm in the lamest punch ever.
“Ow,” Derek replies, his hand rubbing the spot. “Is that what your manly coach lover taught you to do?”
“Fuck you.” Stiles laughs.
“Oh if we could, but I don’t want kicked off the lacrosse team.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
Stiles smiles at the now wide grin on Derek’s face, it might not be perfect, he might still fell crappy, and guilty and just a little bit lonely, but for the first time that day, he realises he’s going to be ok.
…
It doesn’t change anything, breaking up with Aubrey, or Derek breaking up with Erica, sure he feels lighter, can breathe a bit easier but other than that life just shifts back into a familiar pattern, lunch with friends, and as the prom draws nearer and nearer, and then suddenly prom is tomorrow, talk of dresses and cars and who would be spiking the punch dominates every conversation.
“We gotta go,” Lydia announces standing up and grabbing Allison. “Dresses to plan, things to do,” she sing songs. “Erica?” she asks a question in her voice, but no one is particularly surprised when Erica shakes her head. “Nope I’m good here.”
“Ok,” Lydia answers with a smile before linking arms and wandering off to God knows where. Stiles still doesn’t have a handle on girls just yet and the whole Erica/Lydia truce was just one of the many ways in which he feels he never will. He watches them go and quickly scans the room for Derek, it’s pretty unusual for him not to join them for lunch. Room scanned and Derek still not located, it takes little time for Stiles to sink into some kind of self depreciating depression, thinking Derek and he are now single both single, but still not even close to being the way Stiles wishes they could be.
He sighs, and misses when Erica slides into the seat next to him and lays her hand on his thigh.
“You ok kiddo?” she asks softly, her smile soft and sweet and Stiles swallows round the lump in his throat.
“I’m good,” he shrugs and watches as Derek and Scott laugh about something.
“You sure cos you’re kinda looking like someone killed your puppy,” she cocks her head to the side and Stiles rolls his eyes, runs his hand over his hair. He’s still not used to the length yet and Erica sighs as she reaches forward and pats it back into place.
“I don’t have a puppy,” he grins and Erica rolls her eyes.
“Wise guy,” she mutters and then turns in her chair to look at him face on, “you gotta tell him Stiles.”
“Tell who what?” Stiles asks with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Derek,” Erica lowers her voice, “you gotta tell him how you feel because you know what? I feel like we’ve all wasted enough time…so tell him…please,” Erica squeezes his knee.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stiles mutters and crosses his arms over his chest and Erica gives him that look, the one that makes Stiles squirm in his seat.
“Stiles...I’ve known for ages,” she admits and then she looks guilty and sad. “I feel like I have to apologise to you.”
“For what?”
“For being selfish, for keeping Derek with me when I knew he wanted to be with you.”
“He doesn’t want that,” Stiles shakes his head and tries to keep the quiver out of his voice. Erica lifts his chin with her fingers.
“You sure? Because believe me Stiles, I have made a sport of watching the both of you, and Jesus I have never seen anything like it. They way you look at each other…it’s like…”
“But…you and Derek,” Stiles interrupts and Erica raises one eye brow.
“I fell hard for someone Stiles, when I first got here, but…he wouldn’t look twice at me, Derek did, and Derek became my security, as much as I became his because he was in love with his best friend. We were both selfish, but I’ve got the chance to put things right now. To push you towards who you should be with, so do me a favour and tell him how you feel about him,”
“What about you?” Stiles twists his fingers together and Erica smiles secretly, squeezes his hand briefly and runs her thumb over his knuckles.
“I’m going to do what I should have done when I first got here,” she kisses his cheek and stands, takes a deep breath and stride across the dining room towards Isaac. Stiles watches as his eyes widen and a blush appears on his cheeks as Erica sits down in front of him. But there’s something in his eyes which tells Stiles he feels exactly the same about Erica as she does about him.
And he makes a mental note to get the whole story out of Erica tomorrow at the prom.
…
A part of Stiles thought it would be more, more glamorous, more amazing, more something but in the end it’s just the high school gym, a few streamers and a band that was only chosen by a few select members of the year who throughout high school had determined everything to who was cool to what the school budget got spent on.
He knows he sounds bitter and he will never voice any of this to Lydia as he knows, not only is she one of those select few, but she has worked her ass off on all of this but it just left him feeling…disappointed.
The limo ride was awesome, climbing into the back seat of a car with the people that matter most to him, the people who actually helped him survive high school. Every single one of them meaning something to him, even Jackson, who actually managed to become slightly less of a douchebag than he had once appeared.
Squeezed in between Scott and Derek, his thigh pressing against Derek, listening to Allison and Erica and Lydia’s laughter, seeing Derek’s wide smile, Scott’s besotted grin, and Isaac’s shy looks at Erica under his lashes. Taking shots of something that tasted of aniseed and wickedness with Boyd, Jackson and Danny, listening to Derek and Scott warning him of regretting it in the morning and Derek’s hand guiding him back to his seat. All of it is perfect, this is what high school is about. Shaping you up to be the man you want to try to be, the man other people believe you can be and being surrounded by the people who help you discover who that is.
Once they get inside though everything just sort of fizzles, now here he is, at his High School Senior prom. He watches Jackson and Lydia be crowned King and Queen, whoops and cheers with everyone else because they deserve it. He smiles as Allison and Scott disappear through the crowd and then he watches Isaac ask Erica to dance. She looks classic tonight, incredible and classic, with her hair in a low twisted knot and she blushes prettily as Isaac holds out his hand to her. Stiles finds it hard to hold back a smile, at least until he had sees Derek watching them, before leaving the room a look of desolation on his face. It had been at that exact moment, the magic had fizzles.
Heading outside he realises the night is done for him, he doesn’t want long drawn out pleas to stay, better to head off now, let everyone else enjoy the night. To disappear and wake up tomorrow with a clear head.
At least was the plan until he sees Derek sitting on the steps, staring at something in his hand, looking for all the world like someone has stolen his best friend and kicked his puppy for good measure.
It takes him less than two seconds to change course, to head towards the one of the few people in the world that he can’t bear to see sad, ever.
“Hey buddy,” Stiles says easily, plopping himself down on the stair besides Derek.
The slight ‘hey’ he gets in return forces him to look down, to find something to start the conversation, to make this less awkward . But as soon as he catches glimpse of what twists around Derek’s fingers his chest feels too tight to breathe.
“Why have you for a hotel key?” The words are out of his mouth before his brain can catch up. He could have figured it out himself if he’d taken a moment, he sighs heavily as Derek twists the key over his fingers.
“I planned on maybe using it,” Derek replies almost sadly.
“Planning to finally win our bet,” Stiles jokes, his attempt to lighten the mood falling flat, as the words land heavily between them.
“No.” Derek states forcefully. “It wasn’t for sex, well at least I don’t think so, I just wanted to do something special, something different, something that would make sure this night would stand out, you know what I mean?”
Stiles does, he wishes he doesn’t but he understands only too well, he knows exactly how he would have liked this night to work out for him.
“Then why are you acting like you don’t give a shit?” He finds himself asking. He wishes he could leave it, but like a scab that needs picking no matter how much it hurt he keeps digging. “I mean, look, I get she thinks she has this thing for Isaac, but maybe that’s because you’re acting like you didn’t give a shit, if you told her how you feel, maybe that would be different, in fact no maybes, it would be different, you are Derek fucking Hale for Christ’s sake.”
Even as the words come out of his mouth out his brain s arguing with him to just shut the hell up, what the fuck is he doing, does he like pain, because that would be the only explanation in the world that would explain arguing with the guy he loves to go get his girlfriend back. But no he loves Derek and he adores Erica and if Stiles can’t have the life he wants, he can at least see the people he loves happy.
Stiles dares to sneak a peek to see how he’s taking it, he expects pissed off, Derek hates being told he’s wrong, especially by Stiles, hates even more being told what to do and right now Stiles is doing both. What he isn’t expecting is for Derek to be looking at him like he’s the stupidest person he has ever met (ok kind of expecting he, he gets that look a lot to be honest). A mixture of anger and befuddlement on his face, but it’s his eyes that tell the most, they aren’t angry or confused, they are dark and empty and just look lost.
“You really don’t get it,” Derek murmurs under his breath. “How the fuck, after all this time, can you just not get it? Know what? Never mind.” Derek goes to push himself up and there is the anger Stiles had been expecting.
The smart thing to do now would be to stop picking the scab, but hey Stiles never said he was all that smart when it comes to Derek.
“I don’t get what?” he asks, his tone showing his confusion. “I don’t get what it is like to love someone and want them to love me back? I don’t get what it is like to watch that person with someone else and wish I could do something, anything to make them look at me? That I don’t get what it is like to hurt every single day because I love them with every fucking ounce of my body and I cant even tell them? I get that Derek trust me, and if that is what you are feeling right now then you owe it to yourself, to me and to Erica to just go into that hall and tell her.”
Derek is standing stock still, the anger seems to seeping out of him as Stiles rants. The dank oppressive feel of depression is moving, shifting.
“That’s the part you don’t get,” Derek says a smile on his face. “It’s not about Erica, it never was.”
Stiles feels the shift almost perceptively this time, it’s hard to dampen down the hope that’s shooting through him, but he tries, just because it isn’t Erica doesn’t mean... But God who else would it be? Unless Derek has been harbouring a secret crush on Scott, or Lydia, or Dear God Jackson. Stiles doesn’t realise he’s talking out loud until he hears Derek groan.
“For the love of God Stiles of course it’s not Jackson.”
Stiles is going to protest, is going to say something witty, or funny or at least something that makes more sense than this conversation, but he doesn’t get the chance to, before he can speak Derek’s there, pulling him into him, their bodies jarring together. It isn’t like Aubrey, or even like the last time they kissed. Derek’s mouth is covering his, their bodies so close together almost uncomfortably so. There’s no softness of breasts, or soft skin, Derek’s made of hard lines, and stubbled skin that rubs and chafes. There’s no soft sweet kisses that taste of honey, instead there’s a mouth that feels like it’s claiming him, moving against his, taking everything he has. There’s no small hand, fingers playing against his jaw, there’s a huge hand, calluses at the base of the fingers, cupping at Stiles’s face, fingers pressing in behind his ear. It feels hard and rough and desperate. It feels amazing, it feels like coming home.
He’s dimly aware of the needy moan that he pushes into Derek’s mouth and then feels more than hears the whisper against his lips, the softly spoken “It’s you Stiles, it always was.” He doesn’t know how he has the strength to reply but his mouth is always quicker than his brain, and it’s hard to stop the words falling.
“So Erica was right,” he states, as he pulls back from Derek, more than a little dazed, drinking in the sight of Derek’s smile, of his eyes, dark and hooded, his pupils blown wide open with want, for Stiles.
"Right about what?" Derek asks, his mouth moving up Stiles’s jaw in a way that’s far too distracting.
“Well she knew that I was harbouring certain feelings for a tall dark handsome moron and she seemed to think that maybe he might feel the same way?" Stiles replies, and he totally does not squeak the end of that sentence as Derek’s teeth nip at his earlobe and his hand flattens against the small of Stiles’s back, bringing their hips flush together. .
“Which is?” He can feel Derek smile against his neck.
“God, you’re going to make me do all of this aren’t you?” Stiles huffs, although the smile growing on his face at the same rate as the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest belies his annoyance.
“You are emotionally retarded you get that right?”
Derek pulls back with what seems more than a little difficulty, dragging his mouth away from Stiles’s neck, but not before sucking a bruise onto the soft skin in a way that makes Stiles’s knees go weak. Derek’s eyes are soft and bright, but there’s lust burning in them, the twist of his lips and look of almost overwhelming fondness tells Stiles far more than a couple of words ever could.
“Ok, I love you, you happy now, not only that cos to be fair you’re my best friend and I’ve always loved you but that love is now being matched with an equal need to jump your bones and attack your lips with my mouth, happy?”
“So whats stopping you?” Derek asks, with a quirk of his eyebrow and a twitch of his fingers against Stiles’s back.
“Um…” Stiles runs a hand across the back of his neck, “the fact that we’re outside…in public, and as much as my dad loves you, I don’t think he will if you gets a call saying you’re taking advantage of me in the school parking lot,” Derek nudges his nose against Stiles’s and rumbles out a laugh from his chest.
“Taking advantage?”
“Well I am younger…more innocent…easily lead astray…” Stiles words die as Derek drags his teeth gently down his chin, his grip tightening on Stiles. He pulls back suddenly, the easily amusement, the softness gone from his face replaced with curiosity and a hint of pain.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks and Stiles knows what he’s asking, but doesn’t want to have to relive the depression, the hurt from the last god knows how long, sometimes it seems like a lifetime.
“That I’m younger?” he quips, “Well Derek I know you’re not great at Math but even you could work that out…” Derek cuts him off again with a small, almost unheard growl, moving his arms to Stiles’s and gripping tight.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The first word out of your mouth after we kissed,” Stiles says before he has time to stop himself, “was Erica…,” Derek’s nostrils twitch and his grip relaxes, “I thought…”
“I was trying to tell you everything…” Derek sighs out, moving his hand around Stiles again to the flat of his back, the other coming up to run his finger tips across Stiles’s cheek, “and then we made that stupid bet,” he shakes his head, “and then I promised to play nice even though it killed me to see you with her,” Derek’s grip tightens again, pulling Stiles closer and he can see the dark lust flash in his eyes again.
“Possessive much,” he jokes and Derek doesn’t smile, just presses his thumb under Stiles’s chin to force his head back slightly.
“You have no idea,” he says before kissing Stiles. It’s not hard, it’s not desperate and needy and it’s not soft and exploring. It’s possession, in kiss form, it’s Derek saying I love you, I need you, never fucking leave me, all in one simple kiss and when he pulls away Stiles takes a second to reel in the overwhelming emotions.
“So…,” his voice cracks, throat dry, “there’s a hotel room somewhere?” Derek arches an eyebrow and his fingers twitch against the small of Stiles’s back.
“Where’s the Jeep?”
…
They don’t make it to the hotel room, Derek growls out “pull over” half way there and attacks Stiles’s mouth with his own, hauls him into the back and worms his hand down Stiles’s tux pants. Stiles groans, arches, trails nails down Derek’s back as Derek thumbs the slit in his dick. There’s a brief pause, a tangle of limbs and shirts and pants but then gloriously, finally, there’s skin against skin and Derek spits into his hand, wraps it around both of them and twists it, slides it upwards, runs his palm over the tip of Stiles’s and back down both of them again. Stiles may or may not let out a string of curses that turns the air between them blue, and he may or may not chant Derek’s name as Derek’s dick slides against his own.
“Tell me again,” Derek grinds out, skin slick and hot against Stiles’s, his lips brushing over the pulse in Stiles’s neck, “tell me.”
“I love you,” Stiles winds his hands into Derek’s hair, pulls his head up and back down, kisses him hard and arches his hips into Derek’s tight grip. He comes, with Derek’s teeth pressing into the soft skin of his bottom lip, “Derek.”
Derek comes then, a groan, a rumble in his chest, his come hot against Stiles’s stomach, his head pressed to Stiles’s neck and Stiles tightens his grip on his hair.
“You too,” Derek mutters, lazily licks at Stiles’s throat, up his underside of his chin, into his mouth.
Stiles wakes God knows how many hours later, shivering in the back of his jeep, with cramp in his right thigh, and come dried and flaky on his stomach. But Derek’s got an arm around him, his chest pressed to Stiles’s back and his nose smashed up against the back of Stiles’s neck.
Stiles has never been happier.