Why Stand it if You Can Fix It?
Title: Why Stand it if You Can Fix It?
Pairing: Sterek
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Derek and Stiles are young ranch hands who go to find work for Adrian Harris herding sheep up on Brokeback Mountain.
Word Count: 8017
A/N: The moment I realized that Derek would make for the perfect Ennis "let me repress all my emotions and feelings" del Mar, I knew I was done for and had to write it ASAP.
Some of the lines and situations are the same from the short story/movie, because they're simply too perfect to touch. All the credit in the world goes to Annie Proulx for her beautiful creation.
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or BBM
AO3
Derek steps off the truck he was lucky enough to hitch a ride from. He doesn’t have any money, but the trucker knows that, was passing this way anyway. So all Derek can leave the guy with is a wave of thanks.
He heads off from where the trucker left him until he finds a rinky little building with the name A. Harris on the door. This is where he’ll find work. He needs the money desperately. He’s nineteen, got a girl back home, Kate, who he’s going to marry as soon as he gets back and they need the money to buy a place of their own and start a family. She’s blonde, beautiful… they’d known each other for years now, her family helping out where they could once it was just Derek and his sister, and it was simply expected of them to end up together. It’s what Derek tells himself that he wants.
After waiting a good twenty minutes, a long cargo train come and gone, he hears the sounds of an old beater of a truck heading towards him. The guy parks it, and it stutters and makes some funny sounds when he cuts the engine. The kick the guy gives it probably does more damage than it does good.
He looks at the guy leaning against his truck slyly from underneath the brim of his hat. This can’t be Harris, the guy in charge, not in that truck. And he hasn’t said a word, though it looks like he really wants to. No, he’ll probably end up stuck on the mountain with this guy for months.
After another twenty minutes of waiting, a much nicer car pulls into the lot and a tall, skinny guy gets out, walking straight past them and into what must be his office. He tells them that they better get their asses inside if they’re looking for work. They move pretty quickly at that.
Harris explains the job to them, they’ll be up on Brokeback Mountain, one will stay at a campsite all day, the other is there most of the day, but will sleep in a little pup tent to keep an eye on the sheep. He looks right at the kid with the truck and tells him he doesn’t want that same 25% loss like they had last year. He gives Derek the rundown on their supplies, how he can make up a grocery list for them. The whole while Derek can feel eyes on him and knows the kid is looking at him.
Then he kicks them out of his office. For being such a scrawny guy, he sure likes to throw his weight around.
“I’m Stiles Stilinski,” the kid with the truck says, sticking his hand out in introduction.
“Derek,” he replies, taking the hand in his own.
“Your folks just stop at Derek?”
“Hale,” he follows up after a moment.
Stiles smiles at him and suggests they go to the bar for a drink before they have to head up the mountain.
“So,” Stiles starts as he sets down his beer bottle, “what brings you up this way?”
“Needed the work,” Derek answers, shrugging a little. He doesn’t ask the question back in reply, but Stiles answers anyway.
“Same here. I mean, I make money sometimes rodeoin’ but you gotta spend money to make money there. Right now, I don’t have the money for the buy in fees. So…” he pauses, giving a little shrug, “was here last year, too. My second year here. Sucks. I hate workin’ for that asshole Harris. Hate workin’ for anyone, really. Want my own spread one day. That’s what I’m really workin’ for. Tryin’ to save up some money so one day I can be my own boss. Last year, this huge storm rolled in, lightning killed off more than forty sheep.” He takes another drink, thinking that maybe Derek will say something in the pause. He doesn’t. “Tryin’ to help out my dad, too, doin’ this. He’s all I got left now. He’s strugglin’ keepin’ his farm goin’. Figure maybe if I get some cash I can help him out some.”
“That’s nice of you,” Derek says. “I got no one to help but myself.”
“Oh?”
“Family died in a big wildfire, took out the whole house. My older sister raised me, mostly. Now she’s married, wants to start a family… I figured it was high time I get out and take care of myself.”
“Shit.” Stiles finishes off his beer.
~~~
Before they know it, they’re on horseback, surrounded by sheep and preparing to head up to what would be their home for the next few months. Stiles is showing off on a horse that he probably shouldn’t be riding and Derek is keeping a close eye on him, because he doesn’t need him getting hurt before they’ve even started their job. The trek up is long and tedious, both of them having to carry some of the sheep here and there. Dogs are nipping at the sheep’s heels, keeping them in line. It’s a relief when they’re all herded into the little ravine and settled in.
Their day is nowhere near over, as they still have to chop firewood and grab water. They manage to get their camp set up, tent pitched, fire sparking up from the pit and beans bubbling away in a cast iron pot. Stiles pokes at the beans, then at the fire, sending a few little sparks up into the air when the logs shift, before sitting on a log opposite Derek.
Dinner is eaten in silence, nothing more than the sounds of the crackling fire, chewing and the occasional swig of whiskey filling the air. Stiles still wants to talk, but he doesn’t. He finishes up his dinner and saddles up his horse. The only thing he says is, “Later,” which Derek returns in a mumble, before he’s heading off to keep an eye on the sheep.
He’s bundled up in his jacket, the night air cold, and there’s no fire to keep him warm. The tent is a joke; there’s nothing to it and the wind blows right through the thin layer of fabric. Every now and again, he glances down to the glowing fire of base camp, to Derek, wishing that he could be there alongside him. The year before, he couldn’t have cared less about sharing camp with the guy he was working with, Jackson. The guy was an asshole and Stiles had actually been happy to get away from him every night.
Derek’s different, though. So completely different. He’s quiet, soft spoken and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t even realize how good looking he is. Jackson, on the other hand, did know, and when they were in camp, he made it a point to tell him that he’d slept with all the barrel racers at every rodeo he’d ever attended. He also pointed out that he could compete whenever he wanted, because he had money, and that he didn’t even have to be up on the mountain, his daddy wanted him to get some experience before taking over the family ranching business.
Needless to say, Stiles had gotten sick of Jackson pretty damn fast. But Derek… with Derek he could sit with him for ages, not exactly comfortable with the silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, either.
When he finally settles in for the night, he doesn’t get much sleep.
Stiles heads down to camp for breakfast where they have… beans. It’s going to be a long, bean filled summer.
~~~
The days tick on by, with Stiles heading back and forth between the sheep and camp constantly, all day long. Derek keeps up with camp, chopping wood and making the food for them at every meal.
When Stiles is down for dinner one night, he starts bitching. It’s been building up inside him for a while, and he can only keep things bottled up for so long… which usually isn’t long at all. “You know, Harris has no right making me stay up there with the sheep all damn night. He said himself it’s against the law. Can’t even have a fire. That’s some bullshit right there. I’d like to see him do that job, he’d freeze his fucking scrawny ass off every night, just like I do! I cant’ wait ‘til I’ve got enough saved up for my own spread. I’ll be done with all Harris’ bullshit and I’ll be my own boss.”
“I’m saving for my own place, too. Me ‘n Kate, we’re getting married as soon as I get down this mountain.”
Stiles really doesn’t want to hear about Derek’s future with this Kate girl, so he keeps going like he didn’t hear a thing Derek just said. “Man’s got no right makin’ me stay up there, no fire… it’s bullshit.”
Derek doesn’t say anything.
Stiles finishes his dinner and heads back up to sleep with the sheep.
It’s more of the same for the next few days, too. There are beans and potatoes and whiskey and that’s about all they have to eat. Finally, Stiles cracks. As he’s heading up to the sheep after having breakfast he says, “No more beans!” and takes off.
Derek begins cleaning up around the camp. He goes to the nearby stream to wash the pans and plates, glancing up a time or two to where he knows Stiles is. He finishes up the washing and prepares for the grocery pickup trip.
They don’t get some of the food they asked for. They wanted some potatoes, some milk, didn’t get either of them. They mostly just get more beans. He hands over the next week’s grocery list, and when the man asks him about the change of order, soup instead of beans, Derek just tells him, “I’m sick of beans.”
“It’s too early in the summer to be sick of beans.”
The trip back to the campsite is one he’s gotten used to, having made it for a few weeks now, until he gets to the stream and a bear spots them. It begins to roar at them, mouth wide and teeth bared. The horse and mules spook. The horse rears up and Derek falls to the ground face first. He can feel a rock cutting through his skin, but he doesn’t have the time to worry about that, not when the pack animals have just run off with the only food they have.
Stiles gets down to camp, where there’s usually dinner waiting for him. Tonight, Derek’s nowhere to be found. The place is totally empty. He waits for a while, thinking Derek will be back soon enough. But he doesn’t come back after an hour, two hours. Finally, he makes himself a can of beans and settles in with some whiskey.
The sky is dark when he hears hooves clomping towards camp. “What the hell?! Where have you been?” he asks, hands on his hips. “I come down here fuckin’ starved and you’re not even here! And all we got are the damn beans!” Then he sees Derek stalk by and there’s blood. “Holy shit, what happened to you?”
Derek sits down on a log and explains, “A bear happened.”
Stiles’ eyes go wide and he grabs a cloth, dipping it into a pot of boiling water. When he goes to clean off Derek’s head, Derek takes the cloth from him and does it himself.
“Horse threw me and the mules took off. Had to chase the damn things down… beans are about all we have left.”
“Well, we need to do something about the food situation. Damn tired of beans…”
“Beans are fine,” Derek says.
“No, they’re not,” Stiles counters.
The next day, they both head out in search of other food. Stiles suggests shooting one of the sheep, but Derek shoots that idea down in an instant. The last thing they need is for their boss to find out they’re eating their own sheep. When Derek spots a large elk, he tells Stiles to stand still and be quiet for once. He crouches down, taking aim with the gun and shoots. The elk stumbles for a few seconds before falling to the ground.
“Woo-ee!” Stiles shouts, giving Derek an excited shove.
Derek pushes him back hard enough for Stiles to fall onto his ass. “Was tired of your dumbass missing.”
Stiles grins.
They eat really well that night, having worked together to skin the elk and cut the meat so they could hang it and dry it. The meat was going to last them quite a while.
~~~
The following morning, Stiles rides down from the sheep for breakfast. “You know, I’m commutin’ four hours a day! It’s always back and forth, back and forth. Not to mention, that goddamn pup tent I gotta sleep in smells like cat piss or worse.”
“I wouldn’t mind going up there,” Derek offers.
Stiles glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “That’s not the point. We should both be here at camp.”
“I really wouldn’t mind sleeping up there, if you wanna switch,” Derek insists.
Stiles’ shoulders sag slightly. That’s not the response he’d been expecting. “I’ll switch with you… but I’m a shit cook.”
“No worse than me,” Derek says.
Dammit. “Ok, then.” They finish up breakfast and Stiles watches Derek pack up the little pup tent onto his horse. “You won’t get much sleep up there,” he says, trying one more time to get Derek to stay at the camp with him.
“Yup,” is all Derek says before he’s off, heading up to the sheep.
He rides back down the following morning, tells Stiles he got a big coyote last night. He then asks for the hot water. Stiles lets him take it, then has to fight with himself to not look as he sees Derek drop his pants in the middle of camp then crouch down to begin washing himself.
He looks out of the corner of his eye, anyway.
~~~
It’s the next day; Derek is down from the sheep and in camp for breakfast. Stiles makes it a point to show off his first place belt buckle from a rodeo he was in the year before, just after he was down from the mountain when he had the cash in hand to pay the entry fee.
“Don’t really rodeo much myself,” Derek tells him. “Don’t see the point.”
“The money,” Stiles says. When he won that rodeo and the belt buckle, he’d been able to live off that money for a decent amount of time. “My dad, you know, he was real well known for his bull riding. Think he ever could have shared his secrets with his own son? Course not. After my mom died, he shut himself right off. Doesn’t talk to anyone anymore. Now he drowns himself in a bottle, probably could even sit upright on a bull if he tried… probably wouldn’t even feel any pain if he got bucked off ‘n stomped all over, either…” He shakes his head. “Your sister, though, she do right by you?”
“Yeah,” Derek says. “Did the best she could. We lost everything, you know? The whole house was gone. Parents didn’t leave us anything, since there was nothing left to leave. Didn’t have a bank account, all the money they had was stuffed under their mattress. Look at all the good that did. We had to live in the shittiest place I’ve ever seen, smelled something awful… I worked odd jobs when I could. Went to high school for a whole year before my truck went to shit on me, had to stop going. Think I told you my sister got married; the wedding was earlier this year. She moved out to live with him and I… well, I couldn’t afford to live there anymore. So, here I am.”
Stiles has the stupidest grin on his face. Even though Derek just told him about how awful his life has been, the fact that he actually told him was astounding.
“What?” Derek asks, looking confused.
“That’s more words than you spoke in the last few weeks,” Stiles says.
Derek actually cracks the smallest of smiles. “Hell, that’s more words than I spoke in a year.” There’s silence for a bit, then Derek goes on, “My daddy, he was a fine roper… didn’t rodeo, though, said all rodeo cowboys was fuckups.”
Stiles looks hurt at the accusation. “Like hell they are.”
When Derek shrugs a little at him, Stiles stands up, hooting and hollering, flailing his arms around as if he’s actually atop a bull. He even provides his own commentary, talking about spurring the bull’s guts out, how he’s showing the bull up… right up until he backs himself into a pile of supplies and falls flat on his ass. And Derek actually laughs, a real, true from the gut laugh. “I think my daddy was right.”
Stiles laughs now, too. Derek’s laughter is contagious.
~~~
The following day is spent herding the sheep along to a new spot on the mountain, better grazing at this time of year. Once the sheep are taken care of, they move down to their new campsite and set up. Doesn’t take too long since there really isn’t a whole lot between them. They sit, talk a little and Stiles plays his harmonica some, which annoys Derek to no end. So he plays it louder.
Eventually, Derek ends up leaving for his night shift with the sheep.
Stiles has breakfast cooking when Derek rides down the next morning. Their day goes as usual, though Derek is a bit chattier than normal. He says maybe an extra one or two words here and there. Stiles likes it.
“The fuck kinda name is Stiles Stilinski, anyway?” Derek asks over breakfast.
“A nickname,” Stiles answers. At Derek’s questioning eyebrow, Stiles continues, “You ever heard a traditional Polish first name before?”
“No?” he doesn’t think so, anyway.
“Well, you’re not about to, either. Let’s just agree that Stiles is, uh, far easier than what’s on my birth certificate.”
Derek smiles a little, and doesn’t push it any further.
Later on in the day, when Derek’s back for dinner, Stiles has beans and potatoes going and a bottle of whiskey open. After they eat, they remain sitting next to each other before the fire and Stiles treats Derek to the religious tune, “Water Walking Jesus.” His singing is awful, but Derek keeps tune for him by banging a little stick against the coffee pot. “My mom, you know, she believed in the Pentecost.”
Derek nods, but then asks with his face wrinkled slightly in confusion, “What is it? The Pentecost? My folks were Methodist.”
Stiles opens his mouth to answer, closes it, opens it again, then shakes his head and says, “I have no idea. Yeah, I have no clue what the Pentecost is, actually. I mean, I guess it’s when the world ends and guys like you and me march off to Hell.”
With a little grin, Derek leans forward and confesses, “Speak for yourself. You may be a sinner, but I ain’t yet had the opportunity.”
“I’m not, either. I mean, that is I haven’t… sinned. I’m not a sinner,” Stiles admits, trying to hide his blush at the awkward admission by taking a sip out of the whiskey bottle.
That actually surprises Derek. Because Stiles is so… open and kind and outgoing and very attractive. It’s hard to believe Stiles hasn’t had anyone in his bed before. He takes the bottle that’s offered to him and has a drink of his own, trying to shake those thoughts from his head.
The time passes so quickly as they talk a little and drink some more. It’s dark when the empty bottle is tossed aside by Derek, who’s nearly passed out against the log by the fire. “I should get back to the sheep,” he slurs, beginning to crawl on his hands and knees to try and reach the horse. He doesn’t even make it two feet. He’s never been this drunk in his life.
“You’d fall off your damn horse if you tried to ride up there like this,” Stiles tells him, struggling to stand up himself.
Derek grumbles a little, but knows Stiles is right. “Ok, ok, I’ll just set up right here. I’ll ride out first thing.” His eyes are already falling shut as he slides onto the ground.
Stiles walks back with a spare blanket, draping it over Derek’s body. “You’ll freeze your ass off when that fire dies down. You should just come in the tent.” God, please let Derek join him in the tent.
Again, he knows Stiles is right, but he pulls the blanket up under his chin and curls up next to the still very warm fire.
It’s about twenty minutes after the fire dies out that Derek is actually shivering and his teeth are clattering. He doesn’t want to make all that noise, but his body is not working with him. His body is freezing. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that each breath he lets out is visible.
All the noise wakes Stiles up. He rubs his hands over his eyes and manages to sit up. Leaning out through the flap of the tent he says, “Quit your yammering and get your ass in here.” He then lays right back down.
Derek stumbles over to the tent, practically falling into it. He feels instantly warmer now that he’s out of the direct chill and the wind. The blanket is pulled up to his chin and it’s much easier falling asleep in the tent than out.
They’re asleep for a little while, but Stiles is really noticing the effect Derek’s closeness has on his body. Derek’s not even touching him, but he can feel the warmth of his body and before he knows it, he’s pushing the blankets off and grabbing for Derek’s hand, placing his entire hand over his now very hard cock.
Sitting up with a start, Derek is shocked at first. His hand was just on Stiles’ dick. And now, Stiles is looking right at him and, holy shit, he’s taking off his jacket. “What are you doing?” he asks, though it’s blatantly obvious.
With his jacket off, Stiles leans in closer to Derek. He wants to kiss him, is trying to kiss him, has his hands on Derek’s face, getting close, but Derek’s holding him back just enough so their lips can’t meet. So, for the moment, he forgets about kissing Derek and begins undoing his belt. The buckle just falls against his leg before Derek’s grabbing his shoulders and flipping him around so he’s on his hands and knees.
He feels Derek yank down his pants, hears the sound of him spitting and then, “Fuck,” he grunts when Derek pushes into him. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. He pounds his fist on the ground a few times as the pain overwhelms him. His eyes squeeze shut as Derek fucks him, and he’s so dry and so tight that Derek can’t even thrust into him, just pushes his hips forward and when he pulls back, Stiles moves with him.
It’s over quickly, for Derek, anyway, who’s coming inside him minutes afterwards. Stiles is still in pain even when Derek pulls out. It burns and there’s an ache he’s never felt before. And his erection almost completely went away.
However, when the burn and sting fade and Derek’s body is still next to his and there’s actual cum dripping out of his ass, he manages to jerk himself off.
~~~
The morning is tense. To say the least. Derek’s out of the tent like lightning, not taking a second look back at to where Stiles is still in the tent before riding off to the sheep.
Stiles limps out of the tent just in time to see Derek’s back and the horse’s ass as they ride up the mountain.
It’s a long, slow day at the base camp. Stiles washes up the dishes before stripping down and doing his laundry in the stream. His eyes look up to the sheep once in a while and it aches not knowing if Derek is ever going to speak to him again. It’ll be a painfully long summer if Derek insists they pretend it never happened.
When it’s time to head back to camp for dinner, Derek finds Stiles on the grass, looking up towards the sheep. Derek looks at him for a few moments before sitting down. “This is a one shot thing we got goin’ on here,” he says quietly.
Hearing Derek speak actually shocks Stiles. He was so certain that Derek would never speak another word to him, and he spoke so few words as it was. “Ain’t nobody’s business but ours.”
“You know I ain’t queer,” Derek says.
Stiles pauses before he replies, because he can’t admit to what he really wants to admit. “Me, neither.”
~~~
With the fire burning before him, Derek sits and stares into it. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Stiles moving around in the tent, already shirtless. It would be so easy to hop on his horse and ride back to the sheep. He’s supposed to sleep up with the sheep, anyway, to keep an eye out for the coyotes. But there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to run, that wants to go to Stiles.
He takes a deep breath and stands, walking to the tent. When Stiles sees him, he visibly perks up, because he didn’t think this moment would come. He moves back a little, making room for Derek in the tent. Derek’s clutching his hat in front of him, but Stiles gently takes it from his hands and now Derek no longer has his safety blanket to hide behind.
When they’re face to face, eye to eye, Stiles leans forward and touches their lips together for the first time. Derek’s reluctant at first, but lets it happen and it’s one of the best feelings he’s ever experienced. He pulls back, not meeting Stiles’ eyes, but Stiles encourages him, nods and lets him know it’s ok, doesn’t push, but lets Derek take his time to actually let it sink in that he’s kissing another man and that it feels so good and so right.
Stiles lies back, taking Derek with him. Derek’s head falls on Stiles’ pecs, hands gently grazing over Stiles smooth, lightly muscled chest. He presses a kiss quickly over Stiles’ heart before lifting his head back up to kiss Stiles again properly. Derek can feel Stiles’ tongue on his lips and he lets his own lips open and the kissing is even better than it was before.
Taking a chance, Stiles rolls them over so he’s straddling Derek’s hips. He sits up, breaking their kiss so he can begin unbuttoning Derek’s shirt. He works slowly, letting his hands run over the skin as it’s exposed until the shirt is off completely. All Stiles can think is God, you’re beautiful and he has to fight with himself to not say it aloud, because he doesn’t want Derek to leave, not now, not when they’ve come so far.
Stiles is slightly nervous when he begins to unbuckle Derek’s pants, but when the man makes no move to run off, he relaxes some. He tugs gently at Derek’s pants and the other man lifts his hips with some hesitation. Stiles pulls them down, slightly frustrated when they end up stuck on Derek’s boots.
He’s already removed his own boots, so when Stiles pulls down his pants, they remove completely. They’re tossed next to Derek’s hat. He situates himself again over Derek’s hips, bending forward to kiss him some more. The night before, he tried so hard to get Derek to kiss him and when it didn’t happen, he imagined what his lips would feel like. And they feel so much better than he imagined.
Stiles pulls back a little, then slips two fingers into his mouth. He sees Derek’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open some when he sees where Stiles’ hand goes. “What-?” Derek begins but he’s cut off when Stiles places a finger over his lips.
“Tonight I’m gonna make sure it’s better than last night,” he says. He certainly doesn’t want it to hurt like it did the night before, so he tries to stretch himself out a little. It won’t help much, he doesn’t think, since Derek’s cock is huge, as he found out the night before, but he does think it’ll help some. When he feels like he’s stretched out some, he spits into that same hand a couple of times before bringing it back to Derek’s cock. He rubs his hand up and down a few times, spreading his saliva around before sinking slowly down. It’s still painful, but now he’s controlling the pace; there’s no sharp thrust into him this time, he’s letting his body adjust as he goes.
Derek is still, holding his breath as Stiles lowers himself down, taking his cock into his body. He feels bad about the night before; he knows that he hurt Stiles, but he couldn’t help himself. He was drunk and hard and Stiles wanted him, so he… he should have treated him better, he knows that, but in the moment he simply wasn’t thinking straight.
“You can touch me, ya know,” Stiles tells him once he’s completely seated on Derek’s cock. “I want you to.”
The permission is all Derek needs. He’s tentative, reaching out a hand and touching Stiles’ leg before doing the same with the other. He runs his hands over Stiles’ thighs and hips, letting them linger there for a while.
Leaning forward, Stiles lets out a little sound of surprise as Derek’s cock twitches inside him as he shifts around. Derek’s hands move further upwards when their lips come together again.
This is what was missing from the night before, the touches, the intimacy. Last night was just a fuck, a quick, raw, painful fuck. Right now, though, it’s something so much more. There’s a sense of trust and even belonging as their two bodies come together in something more akin to what Stiles associates with lovemaking.
They both come this time, Stiles making a mess of Derek’s stomach. Stiles lifts himself up, hand behind him as he pulls Derek’s cock out of him. He wants to kiss Derek, but he’s not sure how he’ll react to kissing afterwards. Instead, he reaches for his shirt, which is underneath Derek’s hat and his jeans, and wipes it over Derek’s stomach to clean him. As he does that, he leans down and places a quick kiss on Derek’s mouth, and he’s not pushed away. In fact, he’s pulled in closer as Derek’s arms wrap around him and hold him there.
Stiles can’t help but to smile into the kiss.
~~~
The days in camp are easier now. Derek’s chattier than he ever was before, and they’re always touching now, whenever they possibly can. They’re horsing around one day, starting when Derek snaps his shirt at Stiles, who manages to catch it. When Derek tugs on it to get it back, Stiles lets go and Derek falls on his ass.
They both start laughing as Derek gets up and chases Stiles around. When he catches him, he tackles him to the ground and kisses him. The more Derek kisses Stiles, the more he wonders why he was so very reluctant that first night, because kissing is amazing. The way Stiles’ lips and tongue feel against his own, the way their bodies press together, every little thing about kissing Stiles feels so perfect.
What they don’t realize is that, from up on a hillside, they’re being watched by Harris. Harris is only there because Stiles’ uncle has pneumonia and has to inform him of it, and he wanted to see how things were going in camp before he got there. Turns out, there are a lot of things going on in that camp that he definitely didn’t approve of.
He rides into the camp once he knows that they’re both dressed, because he had to keep a watch on them until they had finished their screwing around. He lets Stiles know about his uncle and heads back off. Stiles thinks it’s a little weird, because there’s nothing he can do for his uncle, no matter where he is. Hell, he barely even knows the guy.
After Harris is out of camp, Stiles goes back to chopping up firewood, eagerly awaiting Derek’s return to camp that night.
When Derek returns, Stiles has some beans and potatoes cooking over the fire. They sit close to one another while they eat, and eventually Stiles’ head ends up on Derek’s shoulder. He’s not shrugged off.
Stiles sets his plate down next to him on the ground, then turns his head so he can kiss Derek’s neck. When Derek tilts his head to the side, Stiles grins and kisses further upwards, over his jaw and his cheek. “Wanna stay here tonight?” he asks.
“Can’t,” Derek replies. “After that one I found dead, I can’t leave ‘em alone.”
Stiles has to repress a sigh. He understands, to a point, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. “Let’s make the most of the time we got, then,” he suggests, nibbling at Derek’s jaw before standing up, offering a hand to Derek. When Derek takes his hand, he leads them over to the tent.
~~~
The day after, when Derek is just getting into the camp for dinner, the skies grow suddenly darker and the temperature drops. The wind whips around them, blowing the flaps of the tent around. Hail stones the size of quarters begin falling and both of them rush into the tent.
They spend the night huddled together, keeping one another warm the best way they knew how.
~~~
Their days are filled with chores and sex. They eat, they clean up and they have as much sex as they possibly can. Stiles wants this to go on for the rest of his life, but every once in a while, Derek reminds him that he’s still got Kate waiting for him back home. Every time her name comes up, Stiles’ heart breaks. He’s fallen for Derek. He’s fallen in love with Derek.
He never wanted to be in love with him, at first he thought he was an attractive man, but now he knows there’s so much more to him than that, and he doesn’t ever want this to come to an end. It doesn’t matter if he tells himself over and over that it will come to an end, that it has to end, he doesn’t want it to.
Standing before the fire, Stiles closes his eyes and lets his mind wander to thoughts of them, of what their future could be like together. He doesn’t even hear Derek come up behind him, not until he feels a strong arm wrap around him and a gentle voice in his ear, “Hey there, cowboy. You’re sleepin’ on your feet like a horse.”
Stiles doesn’t say a word, but leans further back against Derek’s solid chest. Derek hums lightly, and Stiles can feel it all through his body. Then Derek begins rocking them so slightly that it lulls Stiles into an even more relaxed state.
Neither of them really know how long they stand before the fire, rocking gently side to side. “You get some sleep; I gotta go,” Derek whispers to him. He removes his arm slowly, letting his hand just drag up Stiles chest and over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He presses his lips to Stiles’ ear, then walks to the horse.
Stiles turns his head to watch Derek mount his horse and ride off. He’s still in a slight daze from the contact and the tenderness of it all. The look on his face as he watches Derek go is one of utter happiness and pure bliss. It’s a memory he knows he’ll take with him his entire life.
~~~
One day, in the middle of August, Derek wakes up in the pup tent and he can’t see any sunlight, not to mention he’s freezing his balls off. He gets up and has to practically dig his way out of the tent because there’s snow right up to the top. “Fuck,” he mutters, staggering around as he tries to gain footing in the deep snow. He has to go check on the sheep, make sure that they’re all ok.
Thankfully, the snow doesn’t really stick around.
However, when Derek rides down into camp and sees Stiles taking their tent down, he finds out that they’re not sticking around, either.
“The hell’s this?” he asks, confusion written all over his face.
“Harris came by, told me that my uncle didn’t die from his pneumonia and that we’re taking the sheep down.”
“What?” Derek blanches. “But… the snow didn’t even stick around an hour.”
“Said there’s another storm comin’ in even bigger than this one,” Stiles says, still pulling down the tent poles.
“But… he’s cuttin’ us out a whole month’s pay!” That’s one whole month that he was planning on being with Stiles, one whole month of this young man who brought out a side of him that he didn’t even know he had that he’d no longer get. Because of one little snow storm? “It ain’t right.”
“Nothin’ we can do,” Stiles says, feeling exactly the same way as Derek. He doesn’t want his summer to come to an end, and he certainly doesn’t want it to end a whole month earlier than expected. “I can get you a loan, if you need.”
“Not in the fuckin’ poor house,” Derek says, working to now help disassemble the camp.
When everything is taken down, Stiles sees Derek sitting off by himself. He takes a rope and heads up to him, swinging the rope over his head. When he tosses the lasso, he gets it around Derek’s head and down his torso, who’s quick to pull it off and walk off again.
Next time, Stiles catches Derek around the legs. He doesn’t notice until it’s too late and he’s falling down. He manages to catch himself before falling flat on his face, though. Grabbing the length of rope around his feet, he pulls, brining Stiles closer to him. Stiles falls atop Derek and they roll down the little hill, horsing around until Stiles’ elbow catches Derek right in the nose.
“Oh, shit,” Stiles mutters, hand now on Derek’s face as he tries to look at the damage. “I’m so sorry,” he says, blood dripping onto his sleeve as he tries to wipe at the mess.
Derek doesn’t say anything before winding back and decking Stiles right in his face. Stiles falls to the ground, stunned, and can actually feel his eye swelling up. Derek doesn’t look back at Stiles, he can’t, because if he does, he’ll try and kiss away all the pain and that’s not ok. They’re not going to see each other again and he can’t let himself get more attached to him. It’s bad enough as it is.
~~~
Both of them have to clean up and change their clothes so they don’t have to ride down the mountain with blood on everything. They then begin the trip over to the sheep so they can begin the trek down.
It’s a long, slow walk down. They have some help with other herders and dogs, and, eventually, they do get back down and pen up all the sheep. Harris looks between them and the sheep, shaking his head. “Some of these didn’t go up there with you.”
Neither Stiles nor Derek look at him. During the hail storm, another herd of sheep had gotten entangled with their own. They did their best to separate them, but they were nearly impossible to tell apart. They figured it would be ok so long as the count was accurate, since it was the best they could do.
Harris clearly isn’t happy. “You ranch stiffs…” he has to refrain from calling them far worse things, “you ain’t never any good.”
They all head back to Harris’ office after all the sheep are accounted for. Harris doesn’t say a word as he pays them for the work they did, though part of him wants to cut out some pay for the time he knew they spent fucking when they should have been working.
When they head out, things are kind of awkward and quiet. Derek actually breaks the silence as he once again looks through his small brown bag filled with his belongings and says, “Can’t believe I forgot my shirt up there.”
Stiles just says “Yeah”, and looks at his own bag that he brought with him, with one additional item in it he’d never intended to bring with him. He climbs into his truck, preparing to leave, however, Stiles’ truck doesn’t turn on. It turns over once, then sputters out, “God fucking dammit,” he says, getting out of the driver’s seat and giving his truck a swift kick.
Derek, who was ready to start walking away, stays and helps. He tinkers with some wires, fiddles with some loose knobs and when he tells Stiles to fire it up, it actually starts. Part of him wanted to pull all the wires out, say there’s nothing he can do and then find some hotel or something for him and Stiles to shack up in for a while longer. But now that the truck’s working, there’s nothing keeping either of them here.
Instead of leaving right then, though, Stiles does what he does best and strikes up conversation. “So, uh, do you think you’ll do this again next year?” he asks.
“I dunno. I mean, I’ll be marrying Kate soon, so, probably not. You?”
Stiles hopes he doesn’t visibly cringe at the mention of Kate. It’s not fucking fair! He got Derek first, so why does Kate get to have him for the rest of his life? “Well, I’ll probably go help out my Daddy a little,” he says. “But I might be back next year?” It’s more of a question, because he wants any excuse to maybe see Derek again at some point in his life.
Derek doesn’t really know what to say. He can hear the hopefulness in Stiles’ voice, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be back here. Doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to see Stiles again after they part today. So he forces out the smallest of smiles. “I guess I’ll see you around then?”
“Yeah,” he replies. Now there’s really no more reason to stick around. He’s still in the truck, engine running. He pulls out of the spot and fights to keep the tears from his eyes. He doesn’t want to leave. But he drives, anyway. He goes slowly, watching in his side mirror as Derek walks behind him.
He watches until he doesn’t see Derek anymore.
When Derek can no longer see even the tiniest bit of the sun’s reflection off Stiles’ truck, he keeps walking, but his pace slows. He ducks into an alley, clutching at his stomach as the realization that he’ll never see Stiles again truly sinks in. He crouches to the ground, hat blocking his face from the street.
Then he heaves up the contents of his stomach in the alley.
With his stomach empty, he can’t fight the tears from falling anymore. He’s sad and angry all at once, punching the solid brick wall several times over, doing more damage to his own hand than anything else.
He doesn’t know how long he’s there, crouched next to a pile of his own vomit, knuckles red, raw and bleeding from coming in contact with the wall repeatedly, but he hears the crunching of gravel as someone walks to the edge of the alley. “The fuck you lookin’ at, huh?!” he screams at the guy from behind his hat.
“Derek?”
Derek lowers his hat enough to look over it and he thinks he’s imagining things, because there’s no way that Stiles is standing there. He quickly wipes at his eyes and mouth, trying to rid himself of any evidence of weakness. It’s too late, Stiles knows what happened, but he can’t help it. “Stiles? How’d you-?”
“I turned back. Then my damn truck died and I started walking back. When I heard…” he trails off, not wanting to say that he could hear the muffled sobs and sounds of dry heaving. “I knew you were here.”
“You came back for me?” Derek asks so softly Stiles can barely hear him.
Stiles nods. “I had to,” he says, taking a step closer to Derek.
When Derek also takes a step closer, it’s just a few more seconds before they’re locked in a tight embrace, neither one wanting to let go. Stiles tries to kiss him, but Derek turns his head, then mutters about his puke breath. Stiles settles on a cheek kiss. “We should give this a go,” he says.
“What?” Derek asks.
“You ‘n me. We could have a real sweet life, you know.”
“But… but I got Kate,” Derek says.
Stiles takes a step back and looks at Derek’s crestfallen face. “Are you joking? You puke over me, cry over me, then tell me you’ve still got to marry Kate?” Derek opens his mouth to answer, but Stiles keeps going, “You big fucking idiot. You don’t have to be with her! You ‘n me, we got ranching experience. And I could maybe rodeo a little for some more money. Ain’t gonna be easy, but wouldn’t it be worth it? Nothing worth having is gonna be easy. Think about it, Derek. You ‘n me.”
“I-” Derek knows what he wants. He wants to go with Stiles. He wants a life with Stiles. But his life with Kate has been planned for so long now, it was the life he always imagined… up until his time on Brokeback, anyway, which changed his entire outlook on what it was he wanted in life. But what he wanted and what he could have were two totally different things. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” Stiles asks. “We don’t have much, but we have each other and the money in our pockets. And that’s all I damn well need.”
“Two guys ranchin’ up together? We can’t.” He knows Stiles is about to ask him why again, so he goes on, “These two men back home, they were the laughing stock of the town… one day, I come upon one of ‘em dead, looked like he’d been dragged around by his dick 'til it ripped off.”
Stiles looks horrified. “You saw that? How old were you?”
“About nine. Didn’t seem to phase much of anyone that his dead body was lying right off the side of the road.”
“It won’t be like that. Derek, you gotta believe me, you gotta give me a chance.”
“What if it is like that, huh? What if I do say yes ‘n you end up dead because of me?”
“Then at least I’ll have lived my life with you! Knowing that I lived the best damn life I could have lived because it was with you! Wouldn’t you rather that than walking around feeling dead inside, regretting every day that you didn’t have the goddamn balls to give this a chance?” Stiles asks.
Slowly, Derek nods his head. He can already see a life filled with what ifs, thinking about what could have been, all because he’s scared. He’s scared of the what ifs of living with Stiles, but… Stiles is right. “Yes.”
“Yes? As in…?”
“Yes,” Derek repeats, still nodding.
This time, Stiles does kiss him, not caring about the vomit breath, because Derek just said yes. He doesn’t know where they’ll go, what they’ll do, but he’ll have Derek, and Derek will have him, and, really, what more do they need?
Pairing: Sterek
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Derek and Stiles are young ranch hands who go to find work for Adrian Harris herding sheep up on Brokeback Mountain.
Word Count: 8017
A/N: The moment I realized that Derek would make for the perfect Ennis "let me repress all my emotions and feelings" del Mar, I knew I was done for and had to write it ASAP.
Some of the lines and situations are the same from the short story/movie, because they're simply too perfect to touch. All the credit in the world goes to Annie Proulx for her beautiful creation.
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or BBM
AO3
Derek steps off the truck he was lucky enough to hitch a ride from. He doesn’t have any money, but the trucker knows that, was passing this way anyway. So all Derek can leave the guy with is a wave of thanks.
He heads off from where the trucker left him until he finds a rinky little building with the name A. Harris on the door. This is where he’ll find work. He needs the money desperately. He’s nineteen, got a girl back home, Kate, who he’s going to marry as soon as he gets back and they need the money to buy a place of their own and start a family. She’s blonde, beautiful… they’d known each other for years now, her family helping out where they could once it was just Derek and his sister, and it was simply expected of them to end up together. It’s what Derek tells himself that he wants.
After waiting a good twenty minutes, a long cargo train come and gone, he hears the sounds of an old beater of a truck heading towards him. The guy parks it, and it stutters and makes some funny sounds when he cuts the engine. The kick the guy gives it probably does more damage than it does good.
He looks at the guy leaning against his truck slyly from underneath the brim of his hat. This can’t be Harris, the guy in charge, not in that truck. And he hasn’t said a word, though it looks like he really wants to. No, he’ll probably end up stuck on the mountain with this guy for months.
After another twenty minutes of waiting, a much nicer car pulls into the lot and a tall, skinny guy gets out, walking straight past them and into what must be his office. He tells them that they better get their asses inside if they’re looking for work. They move pretty quickly at that.
Harris explains the job to them, they’ll be up on Brokeback Mountain, one will stay at a campsite all day, the other is there most of the day, but will sleep in a little pup tent to keep an eye on the sheep. He looks right at the kid with the truck and tells him he doesn’t want that same 25% loss like they had last year. He gives Derek the rundown on their supplies, how he can make up a grocery list for them. The whole while Derek can feel eyes on him and knows the kid is looking at him.
Then he kicks them out of his office. For being such a scrawny guy, he sure likes to throw his weight around.
“I’m Stiles Stilinski,” the kid with the truck says, sticking his hand out in introduction.
“Derek,” he replies, taking the hand in his own.
“Your folks just stop at Derek?”
“Hale,” he follows up after a moment.
Stiles smiles at him and suggests they go to the bar for a drink before they have to head up the mountain.
“So,” Stiles starts as he sets down his beer bottle, “what brings you up this way?”
“Needed the work,” Derek answers, shrugging a little. He doesn’t ask the question back in reply, but Stiles answers anyway.
“Same here. I mean, I make money sometimes rodeoin’ but you gotta spend money to make money there. Right now, I don’t have the money for the buy in fees. So…” he pauses, giving a little shrug, “was here last year, too. My second year here. Sucks. I hate workin’ for that asshole Harris. Hate workin’ for anyone, really. Want my own spread one day. That’s what I’m really workin’ for. Tryin’ to save up some money so one day I can be my own boss. Last year, this huge storm rolled in, lightning killed off more than forty sheep.” He takes another drink, thinking that maybe Derek will say something in the pause. He doesn’t. “Tryin’ to help out my dad, too, doin’ this. He’s all I got left now. He’s strugglin’ keepin’ his farm goin’. Figure maybe if I get some cash I can help him out some.”
“That’s nice of you,” Derek says. “I got no one to help but myself.”
“Oh?”
“Family died in a big wildfire, took out the whole house. My older sister raised me, mostly. Now she’s married, wants to start a family… I figured it was high time I get out and take care of myself.”
“Shit.” Stiles finishes off his beer.
~~~
Before they know it, they’re on horseback, surrounded by sheep and preparing to head up to what would be their home for the next few months. Stiles is showing off on a horse that he probably shouldn’t be riding and Derek is keeping a close eye on him, because he doesn’t need him getting hurt before they’ve even started their job. The trek up is long and tedious, both of them having to carry some of the sheep here and there. Dogs are nipping at the sheep’s heels, keeping them in line. It’s a relief when they’re all herded into the little ravine and settled in.
Their day is nowhere near over, as they still have to chop firewood and grab water. They manage to get their camp set up, tent pitched, fire sparking up from the pit and beans bubbling away in a cast iron pot. Stiles pokes at the beans, then at the fire, sending a few little sparks up into the air when the logs shift, before sitting on a log opposite Derek.
Dinner is eaten in silence, nothing more than the sounds of the crackling fire, chewing and the occasional swig of whiskey filling the air. Stiles still wants to talk, but he doesn’t. He finishes up his dinner and saddles up his horse. The only thing he says is, “Later,” which Derek returns in a mumble, before he’s heading off to keep an eye on the sheep.
He’s bundled up in his jacket, the night air cold, and there’s no fire to keep him warm. The tent is a joke; there’s nothing to it and the wind blows right through the thin layer of fabric. Every now and again, he glances down to the glowing fire of base camp, to Derek, wishing that he could be there alongside him. The year before, he couldn’t have cared less about sharing camp with the guy he was working with, Jackson. The guy was an asshole and Stiles had actually been happy to get away from him every night.
Derek’s different, though. So completely different. He’s quiet, soft spoken and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t even realize how good looking he is. Jackson, on the other hand, did know, and when they were in camp, he made it a point to tell him that he’d slept with all the barrel racers at every rodeo he’d ever attended. He also pointed out that he could compete whenever he wanted, because he had money, and that he didn’t even have to be up on the mountain, his daddy wanted him to get some experience before taking over the family ranching business.
Needless to say, Stiles had gotten sick of Jackson pretty damn fast. But Derek… with Derek he could sit with him for ages, not exactly comfortable with the silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, either.
When he finally settles in for the night, he doesn’t get much sleep.
Stiles heads down to camp for breakfast where they have… beans. It’s going to be a long, bean filled summer.
~~~
The days tick on by, with Stiles heading back and forth between the sheep and camp constantly, all day long. Derek keeps up with camp, chopping wood and making the food for them at every meal.
When Stiles is down for dinner one night, he starts bitching. It’s been building up inside him for a while, and he can only keep things bottled up for so long… which usually isn’t long at all. “You know, Harris has no right making me stay up there with the sheep all damn night. He said himself it’s against the law. Can’t even have a fire. That’s some bullshit right there. I’d like to see him do that job, he’d freeze his fucking scrawny ass off every night, just like I do! I cant’ wait ‘til I’ve got enough saved up for my own spread. I’ll be done with all Harris’ bullshit and I’ll be my own boss.”
“I’m saving for my own place, too. Me ‘n Kate, we’re getting married as soon as I get down this mountain.”
Stiles really doesn’t want to hear about Derek’s future with this Kate girl, so he keeps going like he didn’t hear a thing Derek just said. “Man’s got no right makin’ me stay up there, no fire… it’s bullshit.”
Derek doesn’t say anything.
Stiles finishes his dinner and heads back up to sleep with the sheep.
It’s more of the same for the next few days, too. There are beans and potatoes and whiskey and that’s about all they have to eat. Finally, Stiles cracks. As he’s heading up to the sheep after having breakfast he says, “No more beans!” and takes off.
Derek begins cleaning up around the camp. He goes to the nearby stream to wash the pans and plates, glancing up a time or two to where he knows Stiles is. He finishes up the washing and prepares for the grocery pickup trip.
They don’t get some of the food they asked for. They wanted some potatoes, some milk, didn’t get either of them. They mostly just get more beans. He hands over the next week’s grocery list, and when the man asks him about the change of order, soup instead of beans, Derek just tells him, “I’m sick of beans.”
“It’s too early in the summer to be sick of beans.”
The trip back to the campsite is one he’s gotten used to, having made it for a few weeks now, until he gets to the stream and a bear spots them. It begins to roar at them, mouth wide and teeth bared. The horse and mules spook. The horse rears up and Derek falls to the ground face first. He can feel a rock cutting through his skin, but he doesn’t have the time to worry about that, not when the pack animals have just run off with the only food they have.
Stiles gets down to camp, where there’s usually dinner waiting for him. Tonight, Derek’s nowhere to be found. The place is totally empty. He waits for a while, thinking Derek will be back soon enough. But he doesn’t come back after an hour, two hours. Finally, he makes himself a can of beans and settles in with some whiskey.
The sky is dark when he hears hooves clomping towards camp. “What the hell?! Where have you been?” he asks, hands on his hips. “I come down here fuckin’ starved and you’re not even here! And all we got are the damn beans!” Then he sees Derek stalk by and there’s blood. “Holy shit, what happened to you?”
Derek sits down on a log and explains, “A bear happened.”
Stiles’ eyes go wide and he grabs a cloth, dipping it into a pot of boiling water. When he goes to clean off Derek’s head, Derek takes the cloth from him and does it himself.
“Horse threw me and the mules took off. Had to chase the damn things down… beans are about all we have left.”
“Well, we need to do something about the food situation. Damn tired of beans…”
“Beans are fine,” Derek says.
“No, they’re not,” Stiles counters.
The next day, they both head out in search of other food. Stiles suggests shooting one of the sheep, but Derek shoots that idea down in an instant. The last thing they need is for their boss to find out they’re eating their own sheep. When Derek spots a large elk, he tells Stiles to stand still and be quiet for once. He crouches down, taking aim with the gun and shoots. The elk stumbles for a few seconds before falling to the ground.
“Woo-ee!” Stiles shouts, giving Derek an excited shove.
Derek pushes him back hard enough for Stiles to fall onto his ass. “Was tired of your dumbass missing.”
Stiles grins.
They eat really well that night, having worked together to skin the elk and cut the meat so they could hang it and dry it. The meat was going to last them quite a while.
~~~
The following morning, Stiles rides down from the sheep for breakfast. “You know, I’m commutin’ four hours a day! It’s always back and forth, back and forth. Not to mention, that goddamn pup tent I gotta sleep in smells like cat piss or worse.”
“I wouldn’t mind going up there,” Derek offers.
Stiles glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “That’s not the point. We should both be here at camp.”
“I really wouldn’t mind sleeping up there, if you wanna switch,” Derek insists.
Stiles’ shoulders sag slightly. That’s not the response he’d been expecting. “I’ll switch with you… but I’m a shit cook.”
“No worse than me,” Derek says.
Dammit. “Ok, then.” They finish up breakfast and Stiles watches Derek pack up the little pup tent onto his horse. “You won’t get much sleep up there,” he says, trying one more time to get Derek to stay at the camp with him.
“Yup,” is all Derek says before he’s off, heading up to the sheep.
He rides back down the following morning, tells Stiles he got a big coyote last night. He then asks for the hot water. Stiles lets him take it, then has to fight with himself to not look as he sees Derek drop his pants in the middle of camp then crouch down to begin washing himself.
He looks out of the corner of his eye, anyway.
~~~
It’s the next day; Derek is down from the sheep and in camp for breakfast. Stiles makes it a point to show off his first place belt buckle from a rodeo he was in the year before, just after he was down from the mountain when he had the cash in hand to pay the entry fee.
“Don’t really rodeo much myself,” Derek tells him. “Don’t see the point.”
“The money,” Stiles says. When he won that rodeo and the belt buckle, he’d been able to live off that money for a decent amount of time. “My dad, you know, he was real well known for his bull riding. Think he ever could have shared his secrets with his own son? Course not. After my mom died, he shut himself right off. Doesn’t talk to anyone anymore. Now he drowns himself in a bottle, probably could even sit upright on a bull if he tried… probably wouldn’t even feel any pain if he got bucked off ‘n stomped all over, either…” He shakes his head. “Your sister, though, she do right by you?”
“Yeah,” Derek says. “Did the best she could. We lost everything, you know? The whole house was gone. Parents didn’t leave us anything, since there was nothing left to leave. Didn’t have a bank account, all the money they had was stuffed under their mattress. Look at all the good that did. We had to live in the shittiest place I’ve ever seen, smelled something awful… I worked odd jobs when I could. Went to high school for a whole year before my truck went to shit on me, had to stop going. Think I told you my sister got married; the wedding was earlier this year. She moved out to live with him and I… well, I couldn’t afford to live there anymore. So, here I am.”
Stiles has the stupidest grin on his face. Even though Derek just told him about how awful his life has been, the fact that he actually told him was astounding.
“What?” Derek asks, looking confused.
“That’s more words than you spoke in the last few weeks,” Stiles says.
Derek actually cracks the smallest of smiles. “Hell, that’s more words than I spoke in a year.” There’s silence for a bit, then Derek goes on, “My daddy, he was a fine roper… didn’t rodeo, though, said all rodeo cowboys was fuckups.”
Stiles looks hurt at the accusation. “Like hell they are.”
When Derek shrugs a little at him, Stiles stands up, hooting and hollering, flailing his arms around as if he’s actually atop a bull. He even provides his own commentary, talking about spurring the bull’s guts out, how he’s showing the bull up… right up until he backs himself into a pile of supplies and falls flat on his ass. And Derek actually laughs, a real, true from the gut laugh. “I think my daddy was right.”
Stiles laughs now, too. Derek’s laughter is contagious.
~~~
The following day is spent herding the sheep along to a new spot on the mountain, better grazing at this time of year. Once the sheep are taken care of, they move down to their new campsite and set up. Doesn’t take too long since there really isn’t a whole lot between them. They sit, talk a little and Stiles plays his harmonica some, which annoys Derek to no end. So he plays it louder.
Eventually, Derek ends up leaving for his night shift with the sheep.
Stiles has breakfast cooking when Derek rides down the next morning. Their day goes as usual, though Derek is a bit chattier than normal. He says maybe an extra one or two words here and there. Stiles likes it.
“The fuck kinda name is Stiles Stilinski, anyway?” Derek asks over breakfast.
“A nickname,” Stiles answers. At Derek’s questioning eyebrow, Stiles continues, “You ever heard a traditional Polish first name before?”
“No?” he doesn’t think so, anyway.
“Well, you’re not about to, either. Let’s just agree that Stiles is, uh, far easier than what’s on my birth certificate.”
Derek smiles a little, and doesn’t push it any further.
Later on in the day, when Derek’s back for dinner, Stiles has beans and potatoes going and a bottle of whiskey open. After they eat, they remain sitting next to each other before the fire and Stiles treats Derek to the religious tune, “Water Walking Jesus.” His singing is awful, but Derek keeps tune for him by banging a little stick against the coffee pot. “My mom, you know, she believed in the Pentecost.”
Derek nods, but then asks with his face wrinkled slightly in confusion, “What is it? The Pentecost? My folks were Methodist.”
Stiles opens his mouth to answer, closes it, opens it again, then shakes his head and says, “I have no idea. Yeah, I have no clue what the Pentecost is, actually. I mean, I guess it’s when the world ends and guys like you and me march off to Hell.”
With a little grin, Derek leans forward and confesses, “Speak for yourself. You may be a sinner, but I ain’t yet had the opportunity.”
“I’m not, either. I mean, that is I haven’t… sinned. I’m not a sinner,” Stiles admits, trying to hide his blush at the awkward admission by taking a sip out of the whiskey bottle.
That actually surprises Derek. Because Stiles is so… open and kind and outgoing and very attractive. It’s hard to believe Stiles hasn’t had anyone in his bed before. He takes the bottle that’s offered to him and has a drink of his own, trying to shake those thoughts from his head.
The time passes so quickly as they talk a little and drink some more. It’s dark when the empty bottle is tossed aside by Derek, who’s nearly passed out against the log by the fire. “I should get back to the sheep,” he slurs, beginning to crawl on his hands and knees to try and reach the horse. He doesn’t even make it two feet. He’s never been this drunk in his life.
“You’d fall off your damn horse if you tried to ride up there like this,” Stiles tells him, struggling to stand up himself.
Derek grumbles a little, but knows Stiles is right. “Ok, ok, I’ll just set up right here. I’ll ride out first thing.” His eyes are already falling shut as he slides onto the ground.
Stiles walks back with a spare blanket, draping it over Derek’s body. “You’ll freeze your ass off when that fire dies down. You should just come in the tent.” God, please let Derek join him in the tent.
Again, he knows Stiles is right, but he pulls the blanket up under his chin and curls up next to the still very warm fire.
It’s about twenty minutes after the fire dies out that Derek is actually shivering and his teeth are clattering. He doesn’t want to make all that noise, but his body is not working with him. His body is freezing. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that each breath he lets out is visible.
All the noise wakes Stiles up. He rubs his hands over his eyes and manages to sit up. Leaning out through the flap of the tent he says, “Quit your yammering and get your ass in here.” He then lays right back down.
Derek stumbles over to the tent, practically falling into it. He feels instantly warmer now that he’s out of the direct chill and the wind. The blanket is pulled up to his chin and it’s much easier falling asleep in the tent than out.
They’re asleep for a little while, but Stiles is really noticing the effect Derek’s closeness has on his body. Derek’s not even touching him, but he can feel the warmth of his body and before he knows it, he’s pushing the blankets off and grabbing for Derek’s hand, placing his entire hand over his now very hard cock.
Sitting up with a start, Derek is shocked at first. His hand was just on Stiles’ dick. And now, Stiles is looking right at him and, holy shit, he’s taking off his jacket. “What are you doing?” he asks, though it’s blatantly obvious.
With his jacket off, Stiles leans in closer to Derek. He wants to kiss him, is trying to kiss him, has his hands on Derek’s face, getting close, but Derek’s holding him back just enough so their lips can’t meet. So, for the moment, he forgets about kissing Derek and begins undoing his belt. The buckle just falls against his leg before Derek’s grabbing his shoulders and flipping him around so he’s on his hands and knees.
He feels Derek yank down his pants, hears the sound of him spitting and then, “Fuck,” he grunts when Derek pushes into him. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. He pounds his fist on the ground a few times as the pain overwhelms him. His eyes squeeze shut as Derek fucks him, and he’s so dry and so tight that Derek can’t even thrust into him, just pushes his hips forward and when he pulls back, Stiles moves with him.
It’s over quickly, for Derek, anyway, who’s coming inside him minutes afterwards. Stiles is still in pain even when Derek pulls out. It burns and there’s an ache he’s never felt before. And his erection almost completely went away.
However, when the burn and sting fade and Derek’s body is still next to his and there’s actual cum dripping out of his ass, he manages to jerk himself off.
~~~
The morning is tense. To say the least. Derek’s out of the tent like lightning, not taking a second look back at to where Stiles is still in the tent before riding off to the sheep.
Stiles limps out of the tent just in time to see Derek’s back and the horse’s ass as they ride up the mountain.
It’s a long, slow day at the base camp. Stiles washes up the dishes before stripping down and doing his laundry in the stream. His eyes look up to the sheep once in a while and it aches not knowing if Derek is ever going to speak to him again. It’ll be a painfully long summer if Derek insists they pretend it never happened.
When it’s time to head back to camp for dinner, Derek finds Stiles on the grass, looking up towards the sheep. Derek looks at him for a few moments before sitting down. “This is a one shot thing we got goin’ on here,” he says quietly.
Hearing Derek speak actually shocks Stiles. He was so certain that Derek would never speak another word to him, and he spoke so few words as it was. “Ain’t nobody’s business but ours.”
“You know I ain’t queer,” Derek says.
Stiles pauses before he replies, because he can’t admit to what he really wants to admit. “Me, neither.”
~~~
With the fire burning before him, Derek sits and stares into it. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Stiles moving around in the tent, already shirtless. It would be so easy to hop on his horse and ride back to the sheep. He’s supposed to sleep up with the sheep, anyway, to keep an eye out for the coyotes. But there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to run, that wants to go to Stiles.
He takes a deep breath and stands, walking to the tent. When Stiles sees him, he visibly perks up, because he didn’t think this moment would come. He moves back a little, making room for Derek in the tent. Derek’s clutching his hat in front of him, but Stiles gently takes it from his hands and now Derek no longer has his safety blanket to hide behind.
When they’re face to face, eye to eye, Stiles leans forward and touches their lips together for the first time. Derek’s reluctant at first, but lets it happen and it’s one of the best feelings he’s ever experienced. He pulls back, not meeting Stiles’ eyes, but Stiles encourages him, nods and lets him know it’s ok, doesn’t push, but lets Derek take his time to actually let it sink in that he’s kissing another man and that it feels so good and so right.
Stiles lies back, taking Derek with him. Derek’s head falls on Stiles’ pecs, hands gently grazing over Stiles smooth, lightly muscled chest. He presses a kiss quickly over Stiles’ heart before lifting his head back up to kiss Stiles again properly. Derek can feel Stiles’ tongue on his lips and he lets his own lips open and the kissing is even better than it was before.
Taking a chance, Stiles rolls them over so he’s straddling Derek’s hips. He sits up, breaking their kiss so he can begin unbuttoning Derek’s shirt. He works slowly, letting his hands run over the skin as it’s exposed until the shirt is off completely. All Stiles can think is God, you’re beautiful and he has to fight with himself to not say it aloud, because he doesn’t want Derek to leave, not now, not when they’ve come so far.
Stiles is slightly nervous when he begins to unbuckle Derek’s pants, but when the man makes no move to run off, he relaxes some. He tugs gently at Derek’s pants and the other man lifts his hips with some hesitation. Stiles pulls them down, slightly frustrated when they end up stuck on Derek’s boots.
He’s already removed his own boots, so when Stiles pulls down his pants, they remove completely. They’re tossed next to Derek’s hat. He situates himself again over Derek’s hips, bending forward to kiss him some more. The night before, he tried so hard to get Derek to kiss him and when it didn’t happen, he imagined what his lips would feel like. And they feel so much better than he imagined.
Stiles pulls back a little, then slips two fingers into his mouth. He sees Derek’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open some when he sees where Stiles’ hand goes. “What-?” Derek begins but he’s cut off when Stiles places a finger over his lips.
“Tonight I’m gonna make sure it’s better than last night,” he says. He certainly doesn’t want it to hurt like it did the night before, so he tries to stretch himself out a little. It won’t help much, he doesn’t think, since Derek’s cock is huge, as he found out the night before, but he does think it’ll help some. When he feels like he’s stretched out some, he spits into that same hand a couple of times before bringing it back to Derek’s cock. He rubs his hand up and down a few times, spreading his saliva around before sinking slowly down. It’s still painful, but now he’s controlling the pace; there’s no sharp thrust into him this time, he’s letting his body adjust as he goes.
Derek is still, holding his breath as Stiles lowers himself down, taking his cock into his body. He feels bad about the night before; he knows that he hurt Stiles, but he couldn’t help himself. He was drunk and hard and Stiles wanted him, so he… he should have treated him better, he knows that, but in the moment he simply wasn’t thinking straight.
“You can touch me, ya know,” Stiles tells him once he’s completely seated on Derek’s cock. “I want you to.”
The permission is all Derek needs. He’s tentative, reaching out a hand and touching Stiles’ leg before doing the same with the other. He runs his hands over Stiles’ thighs and hips, letting them linger there for a while.
Leaning forward, Stiles lets out a little sound of surprise as Derek’s cock twitches inside him as he shifts around. Derek’s hands move further upwards when their lips come together again.
This is what was missing from the night before, the touches, the intimacy. Last night was just a fuck, a quick, raw, painful fuck. Right now, though, it’s something so much more. There’s a sense of trust and even belonging as their two bodies come together in something more akin to what Stiles associates with lovemaking.
They both come this time, Stiles making a mess of Derek’s stomach. Stiles lifts himself up, hand behind him as he pulls Derek’s cock out of him. He wants to kiss Derek, but he’s not sure how he’ll react to kissing afterwards. Instead, he reaches for his shirt, which is underneath Derek’s hat and his jeans, and wipes it over Derek’s stomach to clean him. As he does that, he leans down and places a quick kiss on Derek’s mouth, and he’s not pushed away. In fact, he’s pulled in closer as Derek’s arms wrap around him and hold him there.
Stiles can’t help but to smile into the kiss.
~~~
The days in camp are easier now. Derek’s chattier than he ever was before, and they’re always touching now, whenever they possibly can. They’re horsing around one day, starting when Derek snaps his shirt at Stiles, who manages to catch it. When Derek tugs on it to get it back, Stiles lets go and Derek falls on his ass.
They both start laughing as Derek gets up and chases Stiles around. When he catches him, he tackles him to the ground and kisses him. The more Derek kisses Stiles, the more he wonders why he was so very reluctant that first night, because kissing is amazing. The way Stiles’ lips and tongue feel against his own, the way their bodies press together, every little thing about kissing Stiles feels so perfect.
What they don’t realize is that, from up on a hillside, they’re being watched by Harris. Harris is only there because Stiles’ uncle has pneumonia and has to inform him of it, and he wanted to see how things were going in camp before he got there. Turns out, there are a lot of things going on in that camp that he definitely didn’t approve of.
He rides into the camp once he knows that they’re both dressed, because he had to keep a watch on them until they had finished their screwing around. He lets Stiles know about his uncle and heads back off. Stiles thinks it’s a little weird, because there’s nothing he can do for his uncle, no matter where he is. Hell, he barely even knows the guy.
After Harris is out of camp, Stiles goes back to chopping up firewood, eagerly awaiting Derek’s return to camp that night.
When Derek returns, Stiles has some beans and potatoes cooking over the fire. They sit close to one another while they eat, and eventually Stiles’ head ends up on Derek’s shoulder. He’s not shrugged off.
Stiles sets his plate down next to him on the ground, then turns his head so he can kiss Derek’s neck. When Derek tilts his head to the side, Stiles grins and kisses further upwards, over his jaw and his cheek. “Wanna stay here tonight?” he asks.
“Can’t,” Derek replies. “After that one I found dead, I can’t leave ‘em alone.”
Stiles has to repress a sigh. He understands, to a point, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. “Let’s make the most of the time we got, then,” he suggests, nibbling at Derek’s jaw before standing up, offering a hand to Derek. When Derek takes his hand, he leads them over to the tent.
~~~
The day after, when Derek is just getting into the camp for dinner, the skies grow suddenly darker and the temperature drops. The wind whips around them, blowing the flaps of the tent around. Hail stones the size of quarters begin falling and both of them rush into the tent.
They spend the night huddled together, keeping one another warm the best way they knew how.
~~~
Their days are filled with chores and sex. They eat, they clean up and they have as much sex as they possibly can. Stiles wants this to go on for the rest of his life, but every once in a while, Derek reminds him that he’s still got Kate waiting for him back home. Every time her name comes up, Stiles’ heart breaks. He’s fallen for Derek. He’s fallen in love with Derek.
He never wanted to be in love with him, at first he thought he was an attractive man, but now he knows there’s so much more to him than that, and he doesn’t ever want this to come to an end. It doesn’t matter if he tells himself over and over that it will come to an end, that it has to end, he doesn’t want it to.
Standing before the fire, Stiles closes his eyes and lets his mind wander to thoughts of them, of what their future could be like together. He doesn’t even hear Derek come up behind him, not until he feels a strong arm wrap around him and a gentle voice in his ear, “Hey there, cowboy. You’re sleepin’ on your feet like a horse.”
Stiles doesn’t say a word, but leans further back against Derek’s solid chest. Derek hums lightly, and Stiles can feel it all through his body. Then Derek begins rocking them so slightly that it lulls Stiles into an even more relaxed state.
Neither of them really know how long they stand before the fire, rocking gently side to side. “You get some sleep; I gotta go,” Derek whispers to him. He removes his arm slowly, letting his hand just drag up Stiles chest and over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He presses his lips to Stiles’ ear, then walks to the horse.
Stiles turns his head to watch Derek mount his horse and ride off. He’s still in a slight daze from the contact and the tenderness of it all. The look on his face as he watches Derek go is one of utter happiness and pure bliss. It’s a memory he knows he’ll take with him his entire life.
~~~
One day, in the middle of August, Derek wakes up in the pup tent and he can’t see any sunlight, not to mention he’s freezing his balls off. He gets up and has to practically dig his way out of the tent because there’s snow right up to the top. “Fuck,” he mutters, staggering around as he tries to gain footing in the deep snow. He has to go check on the sheep, make sure that they’re all ok.
Thankfully, the snow doesn’t really stick around.
However, when Derek rides down into camp and sees Stiles taking their tent down, he finds out that they’re not sticking around, either.
“The hell’s this?” he asks, confusion written all over his face.
“Harris came by, told me that my uncle didn’t die from his pneumonia and that we’re taking the sheep down.”
“What?” Derek blanches. “But… the snow didn’t even stick around an hour.”
“Said there’s another storm comin’ in even bigger than this one,” Stiles says, still pulling down the tent poles.
“But… he’s cuttin’ us out a whole month’s pay!” That’s one whole month that he was planning on being with Stiles, one whole month of this young man who brought out a side of him that he didn’t even know he had that he’d no longer get. Because of one little snow storm? “It ain’t right.”
“Nothin’ we can do,” Stiles says, feeling exactly the same way as Derek. He doesn’t want his summer to come to an end, and he certainly doesn’t want it to end a whole month earlier than expected. “I can get you a loan, if you need.”
“Not in the fuckin’ poor house,” Derek says, working to now help disassemble the camp.
When everything is taken down, Stiles sees Derek sitting off by himself. He takes a rope and heads up to him, swinging the rope over his head. When he tosses the lasso, he gets it around Derek’s head and down his torso, who’s quick to pull it off and walk off again.
Next time, Stiles catches Derek around the legs. He doesn’t notice until it’s too late and he’s falling down. He manages to catch himself before falling flat on his face, though. Grabbing the length of rope around his feet, he pulls, brining Stiles closer to him. Stiles falls atop Derek and they roll down the little hill, horsing around until Stiles’ elbow catches Derek right in the nose.
“Oh, shit,” Stiles mutters, hand now on Derek’s face as he tries to look at the damage. “I’m so sorry,” he says, blood dripping onto his sleeve as he tries to wipe at the mess.
Derek doesn’t say anything before winding back and decking Stiles right in his face. Stiles falls to the ground, stunned, and can actually feel his eye swelling up. Derek doesn’t look back at Stiles, he can’t, because if he does, he’ll try and kiss away all the pain and that’s not ok. They’re not going to see each other again and he can’t let himself get more attached to him. It’s bad enough as it is.
~~~
Both of them have to clean up and change their clothes so they don’t have to ride down the mountain with blood on everything. They then begin the trip over to the sheep so they can begin the trek down.
It’s a long, slow walk down. They have some help with other herders and dogs, and, eventually, they do get back down and pen up all the sheep. Harris looks between them and the sheep, shaking his head. “Some of these didn’t go up there with you.”
Neither Stiles nor Derek look at him. During the hail storm, another herd of sheep had gotten entangled with their own. They did their best to separate them, but they were nearly impossible to tell apart. They figured it would be ok so long as the count was accurate, since it was the best they could do.
Harris clearly isn’t happy. “You ranch stiffs…” he has to refrain from calling them far worse things, “you ain’t never any good.”
They all head back to Harris’ office after all the sheep are accounted for. Harris doesn’t say a word as he pays them for the work they did, though part of him wants to cut out some pay for the time he knew they spent fucking when they should have been working.
When they head out, things are kind of awkward and quiet. Derek actually breaks the silence as he once again looks through his small brown bag filled with his belongings and says, “Can’t believe I forgot my shirt up there.”
Stiles just says “Yeah”, and looks at his own bag that he brought with him, with one additional item in it he’d never intended to bring with him. He climbs into his truck, preparing to leave, however, Stiles’ truck doesn’t turn on. It turns over once, then sputters out, “God fucking dammit,” he says, getting out of the driver’s seat and giving his truck a swift kick.
Derek, who was ready to start walking away, stays and helps. He tinkers with some wires, fiddles with some loose knobs and when he tells Stiles to fire it up, it actually starts. Part of him wanted to pull all the wires out, say there’s nothing he can do and then find some hotel or something for him and Stiles to shack up in for a while longer. But now that the truck’s working, there’s nothing keeping either of them here.
Instead of leaving right then, though, Stiles does what he does best and strikes up conversation. “So, uh, do you think you’ll do this again next year?” he asks.
“I dunno. I mean, I’ll be marrying Kate soon, so, probably not. You?”
Stiles hopes he doesn’t visibly cringe at the mention of Kate. It’s not fucking fair! He got Derek first, so why does Kate get to have him for the rest of his life? “Well, I’ll probably go help out my Daddy a little,” he says. “But I might be back next year?” It’s more of a question, because he wants any excuse to maybe see Derek again at some point in his life.
Derek doesn’t really know what to say. He can hear the hopefulness in Stiles’ voice, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be back here. Doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to see Stiles again after they part today. So he forces out the smallest of smiles. “I guess I’ll see you around then?”
“Yeah,” he replies. Now there’s really no more reason to stick around. He’s still in the truck, engine running. He pulls out of the spot and fights to keep the tears from his eyes. He doesn’t want to leave. But he drives, anyway. He goes slowly, watching in his side mirror as Derek walks behind him.
He watches until he doesn’t see Derek anymore.
When Derek can no longer see even the tiniest bit of the sun’s reflection off Stiles’ truck, he keeps walking, but his pace slows. He ducks into an alley, clutching at his stomach as the realization that he’ll never see Stiles again truly sinks in. He crouches to the ground, hat blocking his face from the street.
Then he heaves up the contents of his stomach in the alley.
With his stomach empty, he can’t fight the tears from falling anymore. He’s sad and angry all at once, punching the solid brick wall several times over, doing more damage to his own hand than anything else.
He doesn’t know how long he’s there, crouched next to a pile of his own vomit, knuckles red, raw and bleeding from coming in contact with the wall repeatedly, but he hears the crunching of gravel as someone walks to the edge of the alley. “The fuck you lookin’ at, huh?!” he screams at the guy from behind his hat.
“Derek?”
Derek lowers his hat enough to look over it and he thinks he’s imagining things, because there’s no way that Stiles is standing there. He quickly wipes at his eyes and mouth, trying to rid himself of any evidence of weakness. It’s too late, Stiles knows what happened, but he can’t help it. “Stiles? How’d you-?”
“I turned back. Then my damn truck died and I started walking back. When I heard…” he trails off, not wanting to say that he could hear the muffled sobs and sounds of dry heaving. “I knew you were here.”
“You came back for me?” Derek asks so softly Stiles can barely hear him.
Stiles nods. “I had to,” he says, taking a step closer to Derek.
When Derek also takes a step closer, it’s just a few more seconds before they’re locked in a tight embrace, neither one wanting to let go. Stiles tries to kiss him, but Derek turns his head, then mutters about his puke breath. Stiles settles on a cheek kiss. “We should give this a go,” he says.
“What?” Derek asks.
“You ‘n me. We could have a real sweet life, you know.”
“But… but I got Kate,” Derek says.
Stiles takes a step back and looks at Derek’s crestfallen face. “Are you joking? You puke over me, cry over me, then tell me you’ve still got to marry Kate?” Derek opens his mouth to answer, but Stiles keeps going, “You big fucking idiot. You don’t have to be with her! You ‘n me, we got ranching experience. And I could maybe rodeo a little for some more money. Ain’t gonna be easy, but wouldn’t it be worth it? Nothing worth having is gonna be easy. Think about it, Derek. You ‘n me.”
“I-” Derek knows what he wants. He wants to go with Stiles. He wants a life with Stiles. But his life with Kate has been planned for so long now, it was the life he always imagined… up until his time on Brokeback, anyway, which changed his entire outlook on what it was he wanted in life. But what he wanted and what he could have were two totally different things. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” Stiles asks. “We don’t have much, but we have each other and the money in our pockets. And that’s all I damn well need.”
“Two guys ranchin’ up together? We can’t.” He knows Stiles is about to ask him why again, so he goes on, “These two men back home, they were the laughing stock of the town… one day, I come upon one of ‘em dead, looked like he’d been dragged around by his dick 'til it ripped off.”
Stiles looks horrified. “You saw that? How old were you?”
“About nine. Didn’t seem to phase much of anyone that his dead body was lying right off the side of the road.”
“It won’t be like that. Derek, you gotta believe me, you gotta give me a chance.”
“What if it is like that, huh? What if I do say yes ‘n you end up dead because of me?”
“Then at least I’ll have lived my life with you! Knowing that I lived the best damn life I could have lived because it was with you! Wouldn’t you rather that than walking around feeling dead inside, regretting every day that you didn’t have the goddamn balls to give this a chance?” Stiles asks.
Slowly, Derek nods his head. He can already see a life filled with what ifs, thinking about what could have been, all because he’s scared. He’s scared of the what ifs of living with Stiles, but… Stiles is right. “Yes.”
“Yes? As in…?”
“Yes,” Derek repeats, still nodding.
This time, Stiles does kiss him, not caring about the vomit breath, because Derek just said yes. He doesn’t know where they’ll go, what they’ll do, but he’ll have Derek, and Derek will have him, and, really, what more do they need?