Derek/Stiles Fic: Drowning In Imperfection
Title: Drowning In Imperfection
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG-13
Genre: romance
Words: 2900ish
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, nor the lyrics used as the title, from "Imperfection" by Skillet
A/N: This was originally posted in derekstiles community on dreamwidth as an answer to a prompt by aunt_deen, although, like usual, the story took a slightly different direction, so to speak (all by itself, I swear! ^^ ).
I hope you'll enjoy the reading!
This was awkward. And Stiles was scared. It was the last situation he would ever want to find himself in. Well, the reason he was there was fine, but who he was with definitely was not.
It was supposed to be a fun movie night with the pack. Derek would be there, sure, but most of the time he just sat somewhere out of everyone’s way, observing them carefully. In the end, it was easy to push him to the back his mind with so many people around. Now, however, he was a looming presence next to him, and it didn’t help any that Stiles sat at the other end, as far as possible. He sat rigidly, ready to bolt if need be and uncharacteristically still.
He would never forgive the others for what they did to him! Leaving him alone with Derek even though they knew how much the guy hated his guts. Oh, they would pay for this betrayal! Well, he had no idea what he would do to make them pay but… that was beside the point right now. Of course, he was well aware why they’d thrown him to the wolf, every pun intended… If Derek came to an empty house after the time to meet was settled, all hell would break loose. This way, they probably hoped Derek would let go of the matter without any serious consequences, if you didn’t count the bloody smear on the floor as a sole vestige of ever existing an eternal virgin named Stiles.
So Derek sat there, on Stiles’ couch, with a huge bowl of popcorn in his lap, munching them no less, and the default murderous expression wasn’t missing either. Stiles would’ve toppled over laughing if he didn’t have priorities, like staying alive for a few moments longer.
He happily prepared everything for the pack movie night: popcorn, drinks, large collection of movies, good and bad, so that they could choose something everyone would be satisfied with… and then they set him up.
“Yes, Stiles, we’re coming”
“No need to worry. Derek won’t be there before us.”
“See you in a few minutes!”
And the next thing he knew, Derek appeared on his doorstep, looking for all the world like a mass-murderer from a horror movie, a sexy one at that but that was not a train of thought Stiles wanted to follow. Only an axe was missing to complete the outfit, not that he needed it - werewolf fangs and claws were more than enough. A thunder followed by a lightning, just as he opened the door, really really didn’t help, although it did round the picture perfectly in a creepy sort of way.
Derek inclined his head slightly in some sort of greeting and brushed past him into the house. Stiles’ mouth went dry, he couldn’t even swallow. After a few seconds of standing there like a statue, he realised he would have to move at some point, better sooner than later if he held his life dear.
He closed the door, turned around and almost collided with Derek’s solid form. His heart jumped in his throat. Not wishing to look Derek in the eyes, he awkwardly scratched the back of his head and moved around him to put as much distance between them as acceptable without it seeming intentional, although he had a creeping suspicion that Derek could read all of those pathetic attempts of his like an open book. Either way, he even felt sort of grateful Derek never brought any of that up.
“The others should be here any minute now.” Stiles said, letting out a panicked sound between a laugh and sudden exhale, wanting to break the silence and just move away from the scrutiny of those eyes, possibly to Mars or at least to another continent. But wait, maybe Derek could sense him even across the ocean. If he could, it wouldn’t come as a surprise.
Derek nodded, walking over to the couch. And that’s how they ended up where they were now, two hours later, with Derek becoming more terrifying with each passing minute. Stiles put a movie in the player just to avoid letting only the silence and his erratic heartbeats fill the relatively small space around them.
It was a stupid movie, the first one he grabbed from the pile without thinking; ironically, a horror one about a guy going around slaying people with a machete, with an occasional sex scene added, pretty explicit at that. And really?! Why did an awkward old virgin (and he was an old virgin for nowadays standards; he feared he might have to start calling himself a damn spinster one of these days), and a guy at that, need to watch sex scenes with another guy who was a complete opposite, practically a sex symbol. Stiles wondered if maybe someone somewhere was making Derek sex dolls. He knew he would… or maybe not, but it could bring a good profit, right? Enough! That was, once again, a really bad road to go down. Anyway, was he a masochist, for crying out loud?! Thinking dirty thoughts about a guy who wouldn’t be happier with anything less than ripping his throat out.
“Have some popcorn.” Stiles jumped slightly and turned to look at him as Derek put the bowl between them, turning the DVD player off at the same time. That was the first thing Derek said that night and Stiles couldn’t help a sarcastic reply. Sarcasm always seemed to work wonders for his courage.
“Well, thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you, after two hours of eating by yourself.”
“I don’t want it.” He shrugged casually.
“Oh, right.” Stiles let out a half-hysterical laugh as he shook his head. Is Derek planning to leave any time soon? It was more than obvious that no one would come.
“You’re afraid of me.” his voice flat and matter-of-fact. Stiles was taken aback by the sudden change of subject. He turned abruptly and immediately regretted it, because Derek was staring at him and he couldn’t tear his eyes away anymore.
“What do you think?” Stiles couldn’t stop himself, incredulity turning into anger, “Hello! You threaten to tear my throat out whenever you feel like it. And why does it even matter? It’s not like that’s any news, so don’t act surprised or… anything.” He faltered because Derek didn’t seem surprised at all, more like unperturbed.
“I was thinking we should take this opportunity to set some things straight. You clearly don’t seem to understand your position.”
Oh, that hurt. His positon? Did Derek want to kick him out of the pack? “What is that supposed to mean?” Did he want to tell him how unworthy he is of their oh-so-important werewolf family. “Do you think I can’t keep up with the rest of you? That I’m not good enough to be part of the pack? That…” Stiles looked away, breaking the eye contact, as his voice cracked. He really didn’t want to cry in front of Derek, it would just prove how pathetic he was, but it was going dangerously fast toward that point.
“No, none of it.” Derek sighed, leaning slightly forward, his voice even, like before, “That is your problem, Stiles. You are unable to see yourself for who you really are.”
Stiles looked up slowly because he wasn’t sure he heard well. Their eyes met once more. Derek’s eyes were narrowed, like it was often the case, but the new in them was the weariness.
“What…” Stiles didn’t really know what to ask or say, so he didn’t mind when Derek interrupted him.
“No, Stiles, if you were, you wouldn’t ask such stupid, unreasonable questions...” Now Stiles did open his mouth to protest but didn’t get a chance, “…because you would know that you’re part of the pack just as much as Scott or Lydia.” A flicker of something similar to pain clouded his face for a short moment as he said his next words, “And you wouldn’t be afraid of me because you would know that I would never hurt you.”
Stiles gaped at him, his eyes wide, and for once he didn’t know what to say, and he doubted he could even if he wanted. Derek stood and laid his hand on Stiles head for just a moment before turning on his heel and walking out of the room, out of the door and into the night.
Stiles didn’t know for how long he sat there, staring into nothing as those last words replayed in his mind over and over. He couldn’t remember ever hearing Derek speaking that much at once, and that in itself spoke volumes. But what did he really know about Derek? He felt so stupid. He felt like he disappointed Derek and didn’t even know when that started to matter. Derek even seemed hurt. How could Stiles have ever been prepared for that? You would know that I would never hurt you…
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
When he arrived back home from school three days later, the most unbelievable sight awaited him. He blinked once, then twice, but the scene remained unchanged - Derek was watching some western movie his dad liked so much, but his dad wasn’t there. Just as his wild imagination started coming up with a scenario where Derek murdered his dad and then stayed to watch a movie while waiting for him to come back, his dad came out of another room with a look that clearly said “you won’t get out of this unscratched”,
“Hey, dad!” He tried with a light tone hoping to make the result of this adversity as painless as possible, but that didn’t help this time around.
“Stiles, your friend here,” the way he pronounced ‘friend’, while nodding in Derek’s direction, made him wince because it was more of a hiss than anything else, “came to talk to you.”
“Oh… Friend? Okay. Um, yeah. I…” he couldn’t come up with any reasonable excuse as to why Derek Hale would be in his house, on his couch, but his dad saved him the trouble. For now.
“I’ll be right here in the kitchen.”
He watched his father leave the room and then, coming to his senses, angrily strode over to Derek’s side.
“You didn’t come to the pack meeting yesterday or the day befo…” Derek started and before Stiles could think any better of it, he launched forward clapping both of his hands over Derek’s mouth, because really, how could he talk about werewolf stuff so casually with his dad in the hearing (and shooting) range? It wasn’t the smartest thing to do, okay, it was a stupid thing to do, but between his father’s and Derek’s rage, it was a close call. He removed his hands, moving a step back.
“Where’s the remote?” Stiles asked, hoping that turning up the volume would at least hush their voices a little.
“This is your house.” Oh, seriously! Derek would be the end of him one of these days.
“Yes, and you’re the one who’s been here, in my house, for who knows how long, watching movies.” He was struggling to keep his voice low. Derek - in his house, with his dad? He really couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
Unhurriedly, Derek held out his hand, watching him intently, and of course he had the remote in it, but when Stiles moved to take it, Derek caught his wrist and pulled him down, making him lose his balance and fall on top of him in an awkward, embarrassing sprawl. And why should he be the one embarrassed, by the way? It was Derek’s fault!
“Are you insane?!” his voice a frantic whisper. “My dad is in the kitchen!” Stiles tried to scramble back to his feet without touching Derek too much but the attempt proved to be unsuccessful as Derek gripped both of his arms, leaving him no choice but to look at him.
“Yes, Stiles, I realise that. Is there something going on here he shouldn’t know about?” The patience seemed to evaporate quickly from Derek’s voice.
Stiles just couldn’t believe it! He glared at Derek; his face and ears were burning and it wasn’t like Derek couldn’t sense all of it without even looking, so he skipped trying to bury his head somewhere, anywhere.
“Just let me go.” He gritted in a hushed whisper, “Please.”
Derek scrutinized him for a moment, then loosened his hold and Stiles just mumbled a “bastard”, knowing Derek would hear him clearly. He pushed himself back up, more with Derek’s help than his own strength, just as his father exited the kitchen giving him a dubious look in regard to his disheveled clothes and erratic breathing.
“Let’s go, Derek.” A smug satisfaction swept over him at saying something that sounded like giving an order to a dog, but still not something Derek could berate him for, given the circumstances. He could feel the daggers Derek was throwing his way even with his back turned. “Dad, we’ll go upstairs.” He said in a fake cheerful manner; one would think he would have mastered the art of faking after doing it countless number of times, which was not really the case. However, when he met his father’s gaze and saw the lifting of his eyebrow to an impossible height, he amended, “Or not.” and then started walking towards the front door. “We’ll just go outside. I’ll be right back.”
Just as he stepped over the threshold, he could hear Derek saying, “Thank you, Sheriff.” before following him outside. He didn’t know what or if his dad answered.
After marching some metres down the street, not far enough from the house for Stiles’ liking, Derek’s voice made him stop dead in his tracks.
“If you want to leave the pack, you can do it.” Stiles felt the chills sweep all over him. Of course Derek would take his avoidance the wrong way. He should have gone and talked to him sooner. “Take some time to think about it, you’re not obliged to stay. But know that once you leave, you can’t come back. So…” Stiles swirled around, not waiting for him to finish.
“No! No, I don’t need to think about anything.” He strode back toward Derek, “What are you saying?” and gripped the front of his jacket weakly, “I want to be with you…” but then he looked away, realizing how that might sound, and quickly added, “I mean I want to be with the pack, with everyone.” Why did this have to be so difficult? He couldn’t chase away that look Derek had given him three days ago from his mind’s eye, the look of disappointment and hurt, “Just… don’t give up on me now…”
When he finally gathered the courage to look up again, Derek seemed torn. It was then that Stiles became aware of how close they were and he would have moved away if Derek didn’t choose that exact moment to close the distance and seal their lips together. Stiles’ eyes widened and then fluttered close just as quickly. He would have dropped on the ground if Derek’s arm didn’t move around his waist pressing him flush against him. Everything was too warm: Derek’s arm, Derek’s body, Derek’s lips. And oh his lips… unexpectedly soft and gentle so that his own couldn’t help but part in response. Then… then he realised they were in the middle of a sidewalk, and even though that part of the town was never particularly crowded, anyone could see them from their windows, including his father, so he pushed against Derek’s chest and hoped he would get the message because there was no way Stiles could physically force a werewolf to do anything.
Derek let him go, searching his face, while Stiles moved a step back, pretty unsteady on his feet. Those eyes narrowed again, obviously interpreting his reaction as a rejection, so Stiles figured that no, he didn’t understand a thing.
“There’re people around here, Derek.” he voice was really low but at least he didn’t have to worry about Derek not hearing him. Stiles felt the need to explain because he didn’t want more confusion to arise between the two of them, especially now when things took an… interesting turn. He looked to the side uncomfortably, awkwardly, then back up and it was such a relief to see the understanding flicker in those pale eyes. Stiles smiled, “Well then, I’ll come to the next pack meeting. And maybe… I can come later today, if you don’t mind, that is. But if you don’t want me there then…”
“No, that’s fine. You can come later today.”
“Really?” Stiles eyes widened slightly.
“Yes, really, Stiles.” Derek said with an exasperated sigh, a small smile creeping to light up his face. He was beautiful and Stiles just couldn’t stop staring, “The Sheriff must be waiting for you.”
“Oh…” Stiles blinked, then smiled, “Okay. See you later.” He made a few steps backward, not breaking the eye contact, but then thought it might be better not to embarrass himself by falling on his butt. So he finally willed himself to turn around and walk back to his house, all the while feeling Derek watching him. He couldn’t stop smiling. Well, he should come up with an excuse to go out later in the afternoon because his dad would be really pissed off about Derek coming to their house and… Oh no, his dad! If he was watching them… if he saw what happened, Stiles might never see the light of the day ever again. What a way to screw up your life, Stiles!
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG-13
Genre: romance
Words: 2900ish
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, nor the lyrics used as the title, from "Imperfection" by Skillet
A/N: This was originally posted in derekstiles community on dreamwidth as an answer to a prompt by aunt_deen, although, like usual, the story took a slightly different direction, so to speak (all by itself, I swear! ^^ ).
I hope you'll enjoy the reading!
This was awkward. And Stiles was scared. It was the last situation he would ever want to find himself in. Well, the reason he was there was fine, but who he was with definitely was not.
It was supposed to be a fun movie night with the pack. Derek would be there, sure, but most of the time he just sat somewhere out of everyone’s way, observing them carefully. In the end, it was easy to push him to the back his mind with so many people around. Now, however, he was a looming presence next to him, and it didn’t help any that Stiles sat at the other end, as far as possible. He sat rigidly, ready to bolt if need be and uncharacteristically still.
He would never forgive the others for what they did to him! Leaving him alone with Derek even though they knew how much the guy hated his guts. Oh, they would pay for this betrayal! Well, he had no idea what he would do to make them pay but… that was beside the point right now. Of course, he was well aware why they’d thrown him to the wolf, every pun intended… If Derek came to an empty house after the time to meet was settled, all hell would break loose. This way, they probably hoped Derek would let go of the matter without any serious consequences, if you didn’t count the bloody smear on the floor as a sole vestige of ever existing an eternal virgin named Stiles.
So Derek sat there, on Stiles’ couch, with a huge bowl of popcorn in his lap, munching them no less, and the default murderous expression wasn’t missing either. Stiles would’ve toppled over laughing if he didn’t have priorities, like staying alive for a few moments longer.
He happily prepared everything for the pack movie night: popcorn, drinks, large collection of movies, good and bad, so that they could choose something everyone would be satisfied with… and then they set him up.
“Yes, Stiles, we’re coming”
“No need to worry. Derek won’t be there before us.”
“See you in a few minutes!”
And the next thing he knew, Derek appeared on his doorstep, looking for all the world like a mass-murderer from a horror movie, a sexy one at that but that was not a train of thought Stiles wanted to follow. Only an axe was missing to complete the outfit, not that he needed it - werewolf fangs and claws were more than enough. A thunder followed by a lightning, just as he opened the door, really really didn’t help, although it did round the picture perfectly in a creepy sort of way.
Derek inclined his head slightly in some sort of greeting and brushed past him into the house. Stiles’ mouth went dry, he couldn’t even swallow. After a few seconds of standing there like a statue, he realised he would have to move at some point, better sooner than later if he held his life dear.
He closed the door, turned around and almost collided with Derek’s solid form. His heart jumped in his throat. Not wishing to look Derek in the eyes, he awkwardly scratched the back of his head and moved around him to put as much distance between them as acceptable without it seeming intentional, although he had a creeping suspicion that Derek could read all of those pathetic attempts of his like an open book. Either way, he even felt sort of grateful Derek never brought any of that up.
“The others should be here any minute now.” Stiles said, letting out a panicked sound between a laugh and sudden exhale, wanting to break the silence and just move away from the scrutiny of those eyes, possibly to Mars or at least to another continent. But wait, maybe Derek could sense him even across the ocean. If he could, it wouldn’t come as a surprise.
Derek nodded, walking over to the couch. And that’s how they ended up where they were now, two hours later, with Derek becoming more terrifying with each passing minute. Stiles put a movie in the player just to avoid letting only the silence and his erratic heartbeats fill the relatively small space around them.
It was a stupid movie, the first one he grabbed from the pile without thinking; ironically, a horror one about a guy going around slaying people with a machete, with an occasional sex scene added, pretty explicit at that. And really?! Why did an awkward old virgin (and he was an old virgin for nowadays standards; he feared he might have to start calling himself a damn spinster one of these days), and a guy at that, need to watch sex scenes with another guy who was a complete opposite, practically a sex symbol. Stiles wondered if maybe someone somewhere was making Derek sex dolls. He knew he would… or maybe not, but it could bring a good profit, right? Enough! That was, once again, a really bad road to go down. Anyway, was he a masochist, for crying out loud?! Thinking dirty thoughts about a guy who wouldn’t be happier with anything less than ripping his throat out.
“Have some popcorn.” Stiles jumped slightly and turned to look at him as Derek put the bowl between them, turning the DVD player off at the same time. That was the first thing Derek said that night and Stiles couldn’t help a sarcastic reply. Sarcasm always seemed to work wonders for his courage.
“Well, thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you, after two hours of eating by yourself.”
“I don’t want it.” He shrugged casually.
“Oh, right.” Stiles let out a half-hysterical laugh as he shook his head. Is Derek planning to leave any time soon? It was more than obvious that no one would come.
“You’re afraid of me.” his voice flat and matter-of-fact. Stiles was taken aback by the sudden change of subject. He turned abruptly and immediately regretted it, because Derek was staring at him and he couldn’t tear his eyes away anymore.
“What do you think?” Stiles couldn’t stop himself, incredulity turning into anger, “Hello! You threaten to tear my throat out whenever you feel like it. And why does it even matter? It’s not like that’s any news, so don’t act surprised or… anything.” He faltered because Derek didn’t seem surprised at all, more like unperturbed.
“I was thinking we should take this opportunity to set some things straight. You clearly don’t seem to understand your position.”
Oh, that hurt. His positon? Did Derek want to kick him out of the pack? “What is that supposed to mean?” Did he want to tell him how unworthy he is of their oh-so-important werewolf family. “Do you think I can’t keep up with the rest of you? That I’m not good enough to be part of the pack? That…” Stiles looked away, breaking the eye contact, as his voice cracked. He really didn’t want to cry in front of Derek, it would just prove how pathetic he was, but it was going dangerously fast toward that point.
“No, none of it.” Derek sighed, leaning slightly forward, his voice even, like before, “That is your problem, Stiles. You are unable to see yourself for who you really are.”
Stiles looked up slowly because he wasn’t sure he heard well. Their eyes met once more. Derek’s eyes were narrowed, like it was often the case, but the new in them was the weariness.
“What…” Stiles didn’t really know what to ask or say, so he didn’t mind when Derek interrupted him.
“No, Stiles, if you were, you wouldn’t ask such stupid, unreasonable questions...” Now Stiles did open his mouth to protest but didn’t get a chance, “…because you would know that you’re part of the pack just as much as Scott or Lydia.” A flicker of something similar to pain clouded his face for a short moment as he said his next words, “And you wouldn’t be afraid of me because you would know that I would never hurt you.”
Stiles gaped at him, his eyes wide, and for once he didn’t know what to say, and he doubted he could even if he wanted. Derek stood and laid his hand on Stiles head for just a moment before turning on his heel and walking out of the room, out of the door and into the night.
Stiles didn’t know for how long he sat there, staring into nothing as those last words replayed in his mind over and over. He couldn’t remember ever hearing Derek speaking that much at once, and that in itself spoke volumes. But what did he really know about Derek? He felt so stupid. He felt like he disappointed Derek and didn’t even know when that started to matter. Derek even seemed hurt. How could Stiles have ever been prepared for that? You would know that I would never hurt you…
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
When he arrived back home from school three days later, the most unbelievable sight awaited him. He blinked once, then twice, but the scene remained unchanged - Derek was watching some western movie his dad liked so much, but his dad wasn’t there. Just as his wild imagination started coming up with a scenario where Derek murdered his dad and then stayed to watch a movie while waiting for him to come back, his dad came out of another room with a look that clearly said “you won’t get out of this unscratched”,
“Hey, dad!” He tried with a light tone hoping to make the result of this adversity as painless as possible, but that didn’t help this time around.
“Stiles, your friend here,” the way he pronounced ‘friend’, while nodding in Derek’s direction, made him wince because it was more of a hiss than anything else, “came to talk to you.”
“Oh… Friend? Okay. Um, yeah. I…” he couldn’t come up with any reasonable excuse as to why Derek Hale would be in his house, on his couch, but his dad saved him the trouble. For now.
“I’ll be right here in the kitchen.”
He watched his father leave the room and then, coming to his senses, angrily strode over to Derek’s side.
“You didn’t come to the pack meeting yesterday or the day befo…” Derek started and before Stiles could think any better of it, he launched forward clapping both of his hands over Derek’s mouth, because really, how could he talk about werewolf stuff so casually with his dad in the hearing (and shooting) range? It wasn’t the smartest thing to do, okay, it was a stupid thing to do, but between his father’s and Derek’s rage, it was a close call. He removed his hands, moving a step back.
“Where’s the remote?” Stiles asked, hoping that turning up the volume would at least hush their voices a little.
“This is your house.” Oh, seriously! Derek would be the end of him one of these days.
“Yes, and you’re the one who’s been here, in my house, for who knows how long, watching movies.” He was struggling to keep his voice low. Derek - in his house, with his dad? He really couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
Unhurriedly, Derek held out his hand, watching him intently, and of course he had the remote in it, but when Stiles moved to take it, Derek caught his wrist and pulled him down, making him lose his balance and fall on top of him in an awkward, embarrassing sprawl. And why should he be the one embarrassed, by the way? It was Derek’s fault!
“Are you insane?!” his voice a frantic whisper. “My dad is in the kitchen!” Stiles tried to scramble back to his feet without touching Derek too much but the attempt proved to be unsuccessful as Derek gripped both of his arms, leaving him no choice but to look at him.
“Yes, Stiles, I realise that. Is there something going on here he shouldn’t know about?” The patience seemed to evaporate quickly from Derek’s voice.
Stiles just couldn’t believe it! He glared at Derek; his face and ears were burning and it wasn’t like Derek couldn’t sense all of it without even looking, so he skipped trying to bury his head somewhere, anywhere.
“Just let me go.” He gritted in a hushed whisper, “Please.”
Derek scrutinized him for a moment, then loosened his hold and Stiles just mumbled a “bastard”, knowing Derek would hear him clearly. He pushed himself back up, more with Derek’s help than his own strength, just as his father exited the kitchen giving him a dubious look in regard to his disheveled clothes and erratic breathing.
“Let’s go, Derek.” A smug satisfaction swept over him at saying something that sounded like giving an order to a dog, but still not something Derek could berate him for, given the circumstances. He could feel the daggers Derek was throwing his way even with his back turned. “Dad, we’ll go upstairs.” He said in a fake cheerful manner; one would think he would have mastered the art of faking after doing it countless number of times, which was not really the case. However, when he met his father’s gaze and saw the lifting of his eyebrow to an impossible height, he amended, “Or not.” and then started walking towards the front door. “We’ll just go outside. I’ll be right back.”
Just as he stepped over the threshold, he could hear Derek saying, “Thank you, Sheriff.” before following him outside. He didn’t know what or if his dad answered.
After marching some metres down the street, not far enough from the house for Stiles’ liking, Derek’s voice made him stop dead in his tracks.
“If you want to leave the pack, you can do it.” Stiles felt the chills sweep all over him. Of course Derek would take his avoidance the wrong way. He should have gone and talked to him sooner. “Take some time to think about it, you’re not obliged to stay. But know that once you leave, you can’t come back. So…” Stiles swirled around, not waiting for him to finish.
“No! No, I don’t need to think about anything.” He strode back toward Derek, “What are you saying?” and gripped the front of his jacket weakly, “I want to be with you…” but then he looked away, realizing how that might sound, and quickly added, “I mean I want to be with the pack, with everyone.” Why did this have to be so difficult? He couldn’t chase away that look Derek had given him three days ago from his mind’s eye, the look of disappointment and hurt, “Just… don’t give up on me now…”
When he finally gathered the courage to look up again, Derek seemed torn. It was then that Stiles became aware of how close they were and he would have moved away if Derek didn’t choose that exact moment to close the distance and seal their lips together. Stiles’ eyes widened and then fluttered close just as quickly. He would have dropped on the ground if Derek’s arm didn’t move around his waist pressing him flush against him. Everything was too warm: Derek’s arm, Derek’s body, Derek’s lips. And oh his lips… unexpectedly soft and gentle so that his own couldn’t help but part in response. Then… then he realised they were in the middle of a sidewalk, and even though that part of the town was never particularly crowded, anyone could see them from their windows, including his father, so he pushed against Derek’s chest and hoped he would get the message because there was no way Stiles could physically force a werewolf to do anything.
Derek let him go, searching his face, while Stiles moved a step back, pretty unsteady on his feet. Those eyes narrowed again, obviously interpreting his reaction as a rejection, so Stiles figured that no, he didn’t understand a thing.
“There’re people around here, Derek.” he voice was really low but at least he didn’t have to worry about Derek not hearing him. Stiles felt the need to explain because he didn’t want more confusion to arise between the two of them, especially now when things took an… interesting turn. He looked to the side uncomfortably, awkwardly, then back up and it was such a relief to see the understanding flicker in those pale eyes. Stiles smiled, “Well then, I’ll come to the next pack meeting. And maybe… I can come later today, if you don’t mind, that is. But if you don’t want me there then…”
“No, that’s fine. You can come later today.”
“Really?” Stiles eyes widened slightly.
“Yes, really, Stiles.” Derek said with an exasperated sigh, a small smile creeping to light up his face. He was beautiful and Stiles just couldn’t stop staring, “The Sheriff must be waiting for you.”
“Oh…” Stiles blinked, then smiled, “Okay. See you later.” He made a few steps backward, not breaking the eye contact, but then thought it might be better not to embarrass himself by falling on his butt. So he finally willed himself to turn around and walk back to his house, all the while feeling Derek watching him. He couldn’t stop smiling. Well, he should come up with an excuse to go out later in the afternoon because his dad would be really pissed off about Derek coming to their house and… Oh no, his dad! If he was watching them… if he saw what happened, Stiles might never see the light of the day ever again. What a way to screw up your life, Stiles!