Failure to Appear
Title: Failure To Appear
Summary: All human AU set in the future. Derek is a bounty hunter & Stiles failed to appear on his court date. Derek accepts the job of tracking down Stiles; despite their history together.
Warnings: Anal Sex
Rating: Mature
Chapters: 11/?
Notes: No beta, so mistakes are mine as per usual.
PS AO3
Chapters 1| 2| 3| 4| 5| 6| 7| 8| 9| 10|
Side Note: Okay this jumps between past and present - because apparently that's what I like to do. So hope it makes sense!
-
Present:
Stiles’ back hits the soft duvet of his bed, head bouncing off the soft pillows strewn across his bed - way more than actually needed and more work than it’s worth taking them off and on every night before he goes to sleep. He doesn’t care about the damn pillows right now; his back could have been thrown up against a wall, side of a car even on the kitchen counter for God sakes - because Derek is right there following his movement. Derek is right there, body crawling up over Stiles’, his hands rucking Stiles’ shirt up over his perk nipples.
Any sense of rationality escapes Stiles as Derek puts his hand behind his back and lifts the shirt off of himself revealing a sculpted body, defined abs and broad shoulders. Stiles remembers the feel of Derek’s chest, how silky smooth it is - for such a rough and tumble kind of guy - Stiles remembers the way his nails used to dig into Derek’s back leaving scratches and nail-shaped dents.
Stiles doesn’t have to remember anymore, he’s experiencing it now. He can feel Derek’s dry, rough-skinned hands moving up his sides, where he’s ticklish and shivers. Stiles spreads his legs open ever so slightly, inviting Derek silently to continue his journey up Stiles’ body. Even after all this time, their mannerisms are the same - neither of them having forgotten.
Derek’s hand fumble at his jeans before he sighs getting up from where he’s looming over Stiles to shuck out of his jeans and boxers, his faithful black boxers. Stiles can’t help but chuckle at how predictable Derek is - but it’s what he fell in love with, is falling in love with all over again.
Derek raises his eyebrow at Stiles’ laugh before his hands fly to Stiles’ own jeans and he unbuttons and unzips his jeans - it seems to echo off the walls, the only other noises, their harsh breathing and the whirring of the air conditioner to offset the humid July weather.
Once both rid of their clothing, Derek’s hand fist over Stiles’ cock and he hears the hitch in the younger man’s breath, from the sudden contact - Derek runs his hand over Stiles’ cock a few times, until he’s satisfied that Stiles is hard enough before he’s running his mouth up from Stiles’ navel up his chest.
He peppers kisses and nips all along Stiles’ torso, pausing at each nipple to run the pad of his tongue over each, worrying them until their red and Stiles is tugging at Derek’s hair. Derek relents and continues the short journey up to Stiles’ neck and he can’t resist but to leave a small hickey. It’s been too long since he’s seen his mark on Stiles, been too long since he’s even got to mark his Stiles. It’s haunted his dreams every night, whether there was some random person beside him in his bed, or he was on his own. Now it’s not a dream.
Stiles moves his neck giving Derek better access, he groans in satisfaction as he feels the nip of Derek’s teeth on his neck, the laving of a tongue tracing over the mark now branded on his body. He feels Derek take his ear between his teeth biting down gently and Stiles can’t help but arch off the bed, trying to push his body as close to Derek as possible.
“Missed this,” Stiles whispers. His nails run the length of Derek’s body. “Missed this so fucking much,” his voice breaking off.
“Me too,” Derek murmurs into Stiles’ ear, “me too.”
Stiles plants his feet firmly on the mattress and Derek moves back down his body. Derek slicks his fingers up and opens Stiles’ up, a finger at a time - it doesn’t take long whether Stiles’ body remembers Derek’s fingers or he’s just so eager. Derek takes a little longer than necessary though, he wants to savour every moment, not wanting to miss the way Stiles’ squirms and writhes on the bed, mouth parted open and his lips wet where he keeps licking his lips.
Derek can hardly resist Stiles’ cock lying on his belly, flushed and just begging to be touched and who is Derek to object? Derek’s fingers are still firmly working in and out of Stiles’ hole, his free hand guiding Stiles’ cock into his mouth taking as much as he can. Its sensor over-load from Stiles, he kicks a leg out and moans, his hands fisted in his mouth - not that he needs to be quiet.
“Derek,” he pleads.
He doesn’t waste time to slick his own cock, and he hopes to God he can last. Just watching Stiles alone, naked his whole body flushed red is enough to make him come. How he even survived this past year is beyond him.
“Ready?” Derek asks - he knows Stiles is ready, can tell, but still asks.
Stiles nods his head emphatically and Derek can’t help but break out in a smile.
Derek’s on his knees grabs Stiles’ thighs as Stiles positions his legs just to the side of Derek’s shoulders and Derek guide himself in. He groans just as the tip of his cock enters Stiles and it’s like everything he’s remembered and dreamed of, yet just as exciting as their first time - how many ever years ago that was.
They both keep their eyes open, neither of them wanting to miss a beat of this - scared it’ll be over too soon or a figment of their imagination. Derek begins to rock into Stiles’ with more force each thrust, his hands gripping at Stiles’ upper thigh. Stiles’ ass and back arch off the bed with each thrust and he doesn’t bother trying to contain his cries.
Stiles has one hand gripping at the pillow beneath his head, the other wrapping around his cock - he screws his eyes shut like he’s concentrating on something too hard.
“You with me?” Derek grunts between thrusts.
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Stiles breaths and he knows he’s close can feel his balls tightening up, his stomach clenching - his ass clenching in response and he can hear Derek groan above him - he feels too hot, too sweaty and within a few seconds, a few more strokes Stiles is coming.
“Derek,” is the only thing that tumbles past his lips as his come spurts, splattering on his chest and it’s enough for Derek snap his hips a few more times before he follows suit emptying himself in Stiles.
-
Past:
It wasn’t easy getting here, not by a long shot - but they managed.
“Listen, I know I probably have no right to ask, not right at all. But do you think it’s even in the realm of possibility that we can like have a redo?” Stiles had asked hesitantly.
He was surprised that Derek had even picked up his phone when he had called after Lydia left him deserted in Serendipity’s. In Derek’s defence he probably hadn’t realised it was Stiles calling considering Stiles had gotten a new phone number. But Derek answered, and agreed albeit begrudgingly meet Stiles at Serendipity’s.
But who was Derek kidding? He could have pretended all he wanted but the minute Stiles called, he’d go running like the love whipped idiot that he was.
When Derek doesn’t answer right away, Stiles toys with the spoon pushing it around in the melted ice cream from the Golden Opulence, anything to cause a distraction, from Derek’s eyes boring into him.
“I know I have a lot to make up for okay? I know I shouldn’t have shoved those papers at you. I shouldn’t have thought divorce was the answer and I definitely shouldn’t have tried to hurt you before you hurt me. Consider it a lesson learned and one I don’t want to ever experience again,” Stiles emphasized by meeting Derek’s eye. “I’m willing to do what it takes, therapy, us just talking it out on our own. I’ll even go to a Knicks game with you, hell I’ll buy damn season tickets if you want.”
That’s when he sees Derek smile -well it’s hardly a smile but his lips tug up at the corner. He’d tried to get Stiles to go to a Knicks game with him ever since they moved to New York, but Stiles hates basketball and always told him to go with one of his cop friends.
“About kids-” Stiles starts.
“I don’t care about kids Stiles, I told you that a million times. I wanted to be with you.”
“Wanted?” Stiles questioned hesitantly.
Derek sighed, rubbed his hands over his beard before he spoke next, “want, always did and always will.”
That’s enough to put Stiles at ease, tension draining out of his body and colour coming back to his face. He smiles at Derek and suggest they order some food, talk a little bit.
Derek opted out of the whole therapy concept, although it may work for others he’s not much of one to talk and gush about his feelings with other people - they’d try it their way first. If worse comes to worse than they’d try therapy. But they talked and talked. Derek reassured Stiles over and over that having kids wasn’t a make it or break it with him. He did stress though that Stiles tendency to work, and overwork himself was a problem - on both their parts.
They got into too a comfortable situation where they worked and worked, putting it down to “that’s life” and “bills to pay.” They’d both need to sort out on cutting their work schedules down. They even went on dates, like when they first started dating. Going out to dinners, taking turns paying, Stiles surprised Derek by going to a Knicks game - courtside. Derek surprised Stiles by taking the ferry, the way Stiles likes to, to clear his head. And if Derek let Stiles pay for more meals than he did, if Derek got to choose the desserts when he had always let Stiles, or pick the movies they’d watch - well Derek considered that as Stiles trying to make up and he’d take advantage of it while he could.
Simon was long gone and certainly not missed, only a reminder of a dark place in Derek’s life. Adriano, Stiles couldn’t man up but to ignore his calls until he caught on and stopped calling. Neither of them talked about what or who they did with their free time in the year that they were separated, instead going to the doctor’s getting tested, getting the all clear and that being the end of their conversation. They’d rather not know what really went on.
-
Present:
“What time do you have to be at your community service?” Derek said into the crook of Stiles’ neck - where he collapsed and sought comfort right after sex.
Stiles groans tapping Derek on the back of the head in reprimand, “in like an hour man. Way to ruin the glow.”
“Next time maybe you shouldn’t break into an impound yard.”
“Next time, maybe I shouldn’t date the guy who’s going to throw my ass in jail. Or run faster and hide better next time he tries to catch me,” Stiles points out.
Derek nips at Stiles neck in retaliation, and really Derek doesn’t want to have to throw Stiles’ ass in jail again nor does he want to get caught for aiding and abetting a fugitive.
Stiles laughs, wide mouthed throwing his head back in the most expressive laugh that’s just so Stiles as he pushed Derek off of him so he could get up and off the bed. It wouldn’t due to be late to community service - no matter that it’s literally picking up garbage on the side of the street - he really didn’t need any more hours added on, he isn’t Lindsay Lohan.
He cleans the dried off come on his stomach, and shucks his boxers and jeans back on and throwing on the first t-shirt he can find. He’s not going to waste time showering when again; he’s picking up garbage on the side of the street.
The first time Stiles went to his community service meeting, he had no idea what to expect, was he supposed to bring cigarettes to barter with the others there, carry a makeshift shiv? Or were they just like him, got done for something petty and stupid. The last thing he needed though was Derek dropping him off like a little kid, only for one of the other people to see Derek and say “hey that’s a cop, that’s the one that threw me in jail” or “hey, that’s the bounty hunter that threw me in jail.” No, Stiles wanted to get out alive, so he showed up, put on his fluorescent vest, and grimy gloves picked up all the garbage he could and then booked it out of there as soon as he could.
Stiles leaned over the bed - where Derek’s laying on his stomach, face squished into the pillows and presses a kiss to Derek’s lips, smacks his ass and says bye, heading out the door and to the dreaded community service. 38 community hours left, and counting.
-
Past:
“Mr Stilinski, you’re telling me you want to stop the proceedings for divorce?” Stiles lawyer Mr Rosling asked, looking baffled from where he sat in his seat behind his large immaculately clean glass table. Stiles wondered how there weren’t any finger prints on the table. “The paperwork has been filled out and ready to send off.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We no longer need a divorce,” Stiles smiles, his hand reaching for Derek’s where he sits beside him - looking very uncomfortable in such a fancy office.
“Mr Stilinski, Stiles. As your lawyer I ask to speak to you, separately from Mr Hale for a moment,” Mr Rosling is leafing through a green manila folder that presumably holds Stiles’ divorce papers, signed by both him and Derek.
“Mr Rosling, the mistake was asking for the divorce in the first place. I see you have the paperwork there, put it through the shredder and that’s done with. I’m still happy to pay for your services.”
Mr Rosling sighed, emptied the folder that holds all of Stiles’ divorce papers and lets them slip through the crack of the paper shredder, being torn and shredded into hundreds of little pieces of paper. “Forget about the fees Mr Stilinski, between your legal needs of Mr Walsh and myself this past year you’ll still be keeping us in business I’m sure.”
Stiles can’t stop the heat that spreads across his cheek because yeah this past year he’s gotten himself into a little more trouble than strictly necessary between breaking and entering, getting a divorce - well almost divorce, and other little bits of trouble all in the name of a good news article.
Stiles claps his hands together and stands up, “well then I’m still married, still a Hale!” He shakes Mr Rosling’s hand and drags Derek out of the lawyer’s office; it’s a definite cause for celebration.
Present:
Stiles curses to himself as he drops his keys into the little bowl near the front of the door. He’s soaked in sweat and smells like garbage, literally like garbage. “34 community hours left and counting,” he yells out.
He can hear Derek laugh from where he’s sitting in the TV room, reclined and drinking a crisp beer - and isn’t that the life, not picking up used condoms and cigarette butts. “Your dad called, told him you’d call him later, that you were out running errands.”
“Thank the Lord,” Stiles mutters bypassing Derek and heading straight to the shower.
Yeah Stiles’ dad may know about his and Derek’s separation, then their reunion but he’s not in the know regarding what actually happened in the middle of those two events. Stiles prefers to think of it as a blip in time. There’s no reason that papa Stilinski needs to know that Stiles got arrested, bailed out on his court date and then had a warrant out for his arrest - no his Sheriff father definitely does not need to know that. Thankfully Derek understands that much as well.
Stiles lets the hot water run down his back, longer than necessary soothing his sore muscles. He scrubs his body clean ridding himself of any dirt and sweat, replacing it with his pomegranate scented soap - the one Derek makes fun of him for using, yet Derek still runs his nose along Stiles’ neck and inhales, so how badly could he really hate it?
When Stiles it out of the shower he plops down on the bed and calls his dad at the station, hoping he’s still in and not out on a call.
“Hey Dad,” Stiles said when his dad picked up the phone.
“Stiles! How are you son?” the Sheriff asks, and they fall into their familiar pattern of conversation.
How everyone’s doing, how Ms McCall is, Scott and Allison. When is Stiles and Derek coming back home to visit? It’s the same sort of conversation they have every time, but Stiles knows better than to take it for granted. So he assures his dad that they’ll be back to visit soon enough, and in the mean time they can book a ticket for him to come out to New York and visit.
Past:
“Plastic cutlery, paper plates,” Stiles scoffed. He was helping Derek pack up his dingy apartment so they could move everything back into Stiles’ new, larger apartment - one with a doorman, and no wood and newspaper covering a broken window. “Dare I even look in the cupboards?”
Stiles walks the short distance to Derek’s cupboards and open it up to see a few cans of beans, ramen noodles and a box of cereal.
“Jesus Christ Derek, how you managed without me, I don’t even know.”
“Well then don’t let it happen again,” Derek warns Stiles, he says it as a joke but they both know it’s more than a joke; it’s as serious as either of them could get.
“Well back to proper home-cooked meals,” Stiles said, turned around and continued to pack up the lacking contents of Derek’s kitchen. It wasn’t even so much as packing as throwing it all in a garbage bag to throw in the dumpster out back.
Derek’s mindful to clean out the bathroom on his own, throwing out Simon’s toothbrush and ridding any evidence of Simon ever being in the apartment, he dumps the condoms too. Fortunately he and Simon weren’t in an actual relationship, so there’s no awkward giving of stuff back, saying goodbyes or anything. Once the toothbrush and condoms hit the bottom of the trash can, any trace of has vanished into thin air.
Stiles had offered that they could look for a new place to live, after all they did have their nice house they lived in before - although now sold, they could always look for another place, one they both liked. Derek shook his head saying Stiles’ apartment was fine, even though he had made fun of Stiles’ place when he first went there to pick up Stiles to haul him into jail he had to admit he actually kind of liked it - so long as they don’t have to talk to Stiles’ pretentious neighbours. Besides, moving was such a hassle and moving Derek’s limited belonging to Stiles’ apartment was enough work as it is.
On the plus side now Derek doesn’t have to move the Camaro Stiles had bargained with back to his apartment, it can stay tucked into the secure parking garage at the apartment rather than sitting on the street in Brooklyn, where it’s likely to be broken in to. Everything was definitely working out.
Present:
It’s early October, a few months they’ve been officially back together - the air crisp, leaves changing to different shades of yellows and oranges, cold enough to wear a sweater and still be warm enough, both Derek and Stiles’ favourite season. Who can resist apple cider, pumpkins and hay rides? There wasn’t a lot to do in Beacon Hills okay, they took Halloween seriously.
Derek had considered going back to being a cop but decided against it. If he were being honest with himself, he liked being a Bounty Hunter. He pretty much got to work his own hours; Boyd didn’t bother him so long as he got his fugitives in on time. Plus, with being a bounty hunter Derek has more time for Stiles - Stiles who really is making an effort not to work so hard and chase every good story in New York.
That being said, Stiles is seated at the front of a court room - thankfully not in trouble himself this time, rather writing a piece on a trial going on at the moment. He’s riveted about what’s being unfolded in the courtroom, also a little sick at what’s hearing - but he’s itching to get out of here and call Derek. The sentencing should be done in a few hours.
To: Derek Hale
“Get to the Court House ASAP!!”
Derek was just about to get on the subway and head home when he had gotten Stiles’ text and immediately got on the other subway heading in the opposite direction, towards Stiles.
He was out of breath as he jogged when he saw Stiles sitting on the steps in front of the court house, presumably reading the article he’d been working on. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Stiles, curious as to what he wanted though.
Stiles looked up, sensing someone staring at him when he saw Derek walking towards him. He smiled, tucked the papers into his satchel and stood up. “Okay, don’t freak out or anything,” Stiles hedged.
“Stiles,” Derek warned, “what have you done?”
“Nothing. Yet,” Stiles smirked and grabbed Derek’s hand leading him into the court house.
Stiles led Derek through the court house, winding through various corridors, he started to become unsettled and couldn’t help but feel like Stiles was about to break the law or something equally horrifying. They appeared at a large wooden door that looked like all the other doors they’d passed, when Stiles knocked on the door and opened it. He stepped inside, dragging Derek in behind him.
Derek walked into the room, where there was a large wooden table, 5 or 6 chairs tucked in. Two of the chairs were filled, one an elderly lady, probably in her 50’s with greying hair and horn-rimmed glasses. The other chair was filled with a little boy, with blonde curly hair, watery blue eyes he couldn’t be any older than two years old - playing with large blocked Lego toys that was built to look like a construction site. The little boy was driving the little yellow dump truck, ramming it into the Lego to watch it tumble before he started to rebuild it.
The elderly lady looked up when she heard the door open, smiled and set down the papers. “Stiles,” was all she said still smiling.
“Judy,” Stiles replied smiling, “This is Derek. Derek, Judy,” he said as an introduction.
Derek nodded his head, extending his hand as Judy stood to shake his hand. His eyes flitted back to the little boy, who looked up to see who these new people were that entered the room. The little boy stared at Derek for a few minutes, and then his eyes wandered to Stiles.
“Sti,” the little boy said smiling and then went back to his Lego construction site.
Stiles beamed, walking closer to the little boy and turned to face Derek. “Derek, meet Isaac,” he placed his hands on Isaac’s shoulder, “I want to adopt him.”
Chapter 12|
Summary: All human AU set in the future. Derek is a bounty hunter & Stiles failed to appear on his court date. Derek accepts the job of tracking down Stiles; despite their history together.
Warnings: Anal Sex
Rating: Mature
Chapters: 11/?
Notes: No beta, so mistakes are mine as per usual.
PS AO3
Chapters 1| 2| 3| 4| 5| 6| 7| 8| 9| 10|
Side Note: Okay this jumps between past and present - because apparently that's what I like to do. So hope it makes sense!
-
Present:
Stiles’ back hits the soft duvet of his bed, head bouncing off the soft pillows strewn across his bed - way more than actually needed and more work than it’s worth taking them off and on every night before he goes to sleep. He doesn’t care about the damn pillows right now; his back could have been thrown up against a wall, side of a car even on the kitchen counter for God sakes - because Derek is right there following his movement. Derek is right there, body crawling up over Stiles’, his hands rucking Stiles’ shirt up over his perk nipples.
Any sense of rationality escapes Stiles as Derek puts his hand behind his back and lifts the shirt off of himself revealing a sculpted body, defined abs and broad shoulders. Stiles remembers the feel of Derek’s chest, how silky smooth it is - for such a rough and tumble kind of guy - Stiles remembers the way his nails used to dig into Derek’s back leaving scratches and nail-shaped dents.
Stiles doesn’t have to remember anymore, he’s experiencing it now. He can feel Derek’s dry, rough-skinned hands moving up his sides, where he’s ticklish and shivers. Stiles spreads his legs open ever so slightly, inviting Derek silently to continue his journey up Stiles’ body. Even after all this time, their mannerisms are the same - neither of them having forgotten.
Derek’s hand fumble at his jeans before he sighs getting up from where he’s looming over Stiles to shuck out of his jeans and boxers, his faithful black boxers. Stiles can’t help but chuckle at how predictable Derek is - but it’s what he fell in love with, is falling in love with all over again.
Derek raises his eyebrow at Stiles’ laugh before his hands fly to Stiles’ own jeans and he unbuttons and unzips his jeans - it seems to echo off the walls, the only other noises, their harsh breathing and the whirring of the air conditioner to offset the humid July weather.
Once both rid of their clothing, Derek’s hand fist over Stiles’ cock and he hears the hitch in the younger man’s breath, from the sudden contact - Derek runs his hand over Stiles’ cock a few times, until he’s satisfied that Stiles is hard enough before he’s running his mouth up from Stiles’ navel up his chest.
He peppers kisses and nips all along Stiles’ torso, pausing at each nipple to run the pad of his tongue over each, worrying them until their red and Stiles is tugging at Derek’s hair. Derek relents and continues the short journey up to Stiles’ neck and he can’t resist but to leave a small hickey. It’s been too long since he’s seen his mark on Stiles, been too long since he’s even got to mark his Stiles. It’s haunted his dreams every night, whether there was some random person beside him in his bed, or he was on his own. Now it’s not a dream.
Stiles moves his neck giving Derek better access, he groans in satisfaction as he feels the nip of Derek’s teeth on his neck, the laving of a tongue tracing over the mark now branded on his body. He feels Derek take his ear between his teeth biting down gently and Stiles can’t help but arch off the bed, trying to push his body as close to Derek as possible.
“Missed this,” Stiles whispers. His nails run the length of Derek’s body. “Missed this so fucking much,” his voice breaking off.
“Me too,” Derek murmurs into Stiles’ ear, “me too.”
Stiles plants his feet firmly on the mattress and Derek moves back down his body. Derek slicks his fingers up and opens Stiles’ up, a finger at a time - it doesn’t take long whether Stiles’ body remembers Derek’s fingers or he’s just so eager. Derek takes a little longer than necessary though, he wants to savour every moment, not wanting to miss the way Stiles’ squirms and writhes on the bed, mouth parted open and his lips wet where he keeps licking his lips.
Derek can hardly resist Stiles’ cock lying on his belly, flushed and just begging to be touched and who is Derek to object? Derek’s fingers are still firmly working in and out of Stiles’ hole, his free hand guiding Stiles’ cock into his mouth taking as much as he can. Its sensor over-load from Stiles, he kicks a leg out and moans, his hands fisted in his mouth - not that he needs to be quiet.
“Derek,” he pleads.
He doesn’t waste time to slick his own cock, and he hopes to God he can last. Just watching Stiles alone, naked his whole body flushed red is enough to make him come. How he even survived this past year is beyond him.
“Ready?” Derek asks - he knows Stiles is ready, can tell, but still asks.
Stiles nods his head emphatically and Derek can’t help but break out in a smile.
Derek’s on his knees grabs Stiles’ thighs as Stiles positions his legs just to the side of Derek’s shoulders and Derek guide himself in. He groans just as the tip of his cock enters Stiles and it’s like everything he’s remembered and dreamed of, yet just as exciting as their first time - how many ever years ago that was.
They both keep their eyes open, neither of them wanting to miss a beat of this - scared it’ll be over too soon or a figment of their imagination. Derek begins to rock into Stiles’ with more force each thrust, his hands gripping at Stiles’ upper thigh. Stiles’ ass and back arch off the bed with each thrust and he doesn’t bother trying to contain his cries.
Stiles has one hand gripping at the pillow beneath his head, the other wrapping around his cock - he screws his eyes shut like he’s concentrating on something too hard.
“You with me?” Derek grunts between thrusts.
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Stiles breaths and he knows he’s close can feel his balls tightening up, his stomach clenching - his ass clenching in response and he can hear Derek groan above him - he feels too hot, too sweaty and within a few seconds, a few more strokes Stiles is coming.
“Derek,” is the only thing that tumbles past his lips as his come spurts, splattering on his chest and it’s enough for Derek snap his hips a few more times before he follows suit emptying himself in Stiles.
-
Past:
It wasn’t easy getting here, not by a long shot - but they managed.
“Listen, I know I probably have no right to ask, not right at all. But do you think it’s even in the realm of possibility that we can like have a redo?” Stiles had asked hesitantly.
He was surprised that Derek had even picked up his phone when he had called after Lydia left him deserted in Serendipity’s. In Derek’s defence he probably hadn’t realised it was Stiles calling considering Stiles had gotten a new phone number. But Derek answered, and agreed albeit begrudgingly meet Stiles at Serendipity’s.
But who was Derek kidding? He could have pretended all he wanted but the minute Stiles called, he’d go running like the love whipped idiot that he was.
When Derek doesn’t answer right away, Stiles toys with the spoon pushing it around in the melted ice cream from the Golden Opulence, anything to cause a distraction, from Derek’s eyes boring into him.
“I know I have a lot to make up for okay? I know I shouldn’t have shoved those papers at you. I shouldn’t have thought divorce was the answer and I definitely shouldn’t have tried to hurt you before you hurt me. Consider it a lesson learned and one I don’t want to ever experience again,” Stiles emphasized by meeting Derek’s eye. “I’m willing to do what it takes, therapy, us just talking it out on our own. I’ll even go to a Knicks game with you, hell I’ll buy damn season tickets if you want.”
That’s when he sees Derek smile -well it’s hardly a smile but his lips tug up at the corner. He’d tried to get Stiles to go to a Knicks game with him ever since they moved to New York, but Stiles hates basketball and always told him to go with one of his cop friends.
“About kids-” Stiles starts.
“I don’t care about kids Stiles, I told you that a million times. I wanted to be with you.”
“Wanted?” Stiles questioned hesitantly.
Derek sighed, rubbed his hands over his beard before he spoke next, “want, always did and always will.”
That’s enough to put Stiles at ease, tension draining out of his body and colour coming back to his face. He smiles at Derek and suggest they order some food, talk a little bit.
Derek opted out of the whole therapy concept, although it may work for others he’s not much of one to talk and gush about his feelings with other people - they’d try it their way first. If worse comes to worse than they’d try therapy. But they talked and talked. Derek reassured Stiles over and over that having kids wasn’t a make it or break it with him. He did stress though that Stiles tendency to work, and overwork himself was a problem - on both their parts.
They got into too a comfortable situation where they worked and worked, putting it down to “that’s life” and “bills to pay.” They’d both need to sort out on cutting their work schedules down. They even went on dates, like when they first started dating. Going out to dinners, taking turns paying, Stiles surprised Derek by going to a Knicks game - courtside. Derek surprised Stiles by taking the ferry, the way Stiles likes to, to clear his head. And if Derek let Stiles pay for more meals than he did, if Derek got to choose the desserts when he had always let Stiles, or pick the movies they’d watch - well Derek considered that as Stiles trying to make up and he’d take advantage of it while he could.
Simon was long gone and certainly not missed, only a reminder of a dark place in Derek’s life. Adriano, Stiles couldn’t man up but to ignore his calls until he caught on and stopped calling. Neither of them talked about what or who they did with their free time in the year that they were separated, instead going to the doctor’s getting tested, getting the all clear and that being the end of their conversation. They’d rather not know what really went on.
-
Present:
“What time do you have to be at your community service?” Derek said into the crook of Stiles’ neck - where he collapsed and sought comfort right after sex.
Stiles groans tapping Derek on the back of the head in reprimand, “in like an hour man. Way to ruin the glow.”
“Next time maybe you shouldn’t break into an impound yard.”
“Next time, maybe I shouldn’t date the guy who’s going to throw my ass in jail. Or run faster and hide better next time he tries to catch me,” Stiles points out.
Derek nips at Stiles neck in retaliation, and really Derek doesn’t want to have to throw Stiles’ ass in jail again nor does he want to get caught for aiding and abetting a fugitive.
Stiles laughs, wide mouthed throwing his head back in the most expressive laugh that’s just so Stiles as he pushed Derek off of him so he could get up and off the bed. It wouldn’t due to be late to community service - no matter that it’s literally picking up garbage on the side of the street - he really didn’t need any more hours added on, he isn’t Lindsay Lohan.
He cleans the dried off come on his stomach, and shucks his boxers and jeans back on and throwing on the first t-shirt he can find. He’s not going to waste time showering when again; he’s picking up garbage on the side of the street.
The first time Stiles went to his community service meeting, he had no idea what to expect, was he supposed to bring cigarettes to barter with the others there, carry a makeshift shiv? Or were they just like him, got done for something petty and stupid. The last thing he needed though was Derek dropping him off like a little kid, only for one of the other people to see Derek and say “hey that’s a cop, that’s the one that threw me in jail” or “hey, that’s the bounty hunter that threw me in jail.” No, Stiles wanted to get out alive, so he showed up, put on his fluorescent vest, and grimy gloves picked up all the garbage he could and then booked it out of there as soon as he could.
Stiles leaned over the bed - where Derek’s laying on his stomach, face squished into the pillows and presses a kiss to Derek’s lips, smacks his ass and says bye, heading out the door and to the dreaded community service. 38 community hours left, and counting.
-
Past:
“Mr Stilinski, you’re telling me you want to stop the proceedings for divorce?” Stiles lawyer Mr Rosling asked, looking baffled from where he sat in his seat behind his large immaculately clean glass table. Stiles wondered how there weren’t any finger prints on the table. “The paperwork has been filled out and ready to send off.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We no longer need a divorce,” Stiles smiles, his hand reaching for Derek’s where he sits beside him - looking very uncomfortable in such a fancy office.
“Mr Stilinski, Stiles. As your lawyer I ask to speak to you, separately from Mr Hale for a moment,” Mr Rosling is leafing through a green manila folder that presumably holds Stiles’ divorce papers, signed by both him and Derek.
“Mr Rosling, the mistake was asking for the divorce in the first place. I see you have the paperwork there, put it through the shredder and that’s done with. I’m still happy to pay for your services.”
Mr Rosling sighed, emptied the folder that holds all of Stiles’ divorce papers and lets them slip through the crack of the paper shredder, being torn and shredded into hundreds of little pieces of paper. “Forget about the fees Mr Stilinski, between your legal needs of Mr Walsh and myself this past year you’ll still be keeping us in business I’m sure.”
Stiles can’t stop the heat that spreads across his cheek because yeah this past year he’s gotten himself into a little more trouble than strictly necessary between breaking and entering, getting a divorce - well almost divorce, and other little bits of trouble all in the name of a good news article.
Stiles claps his hands together and stands up, “well then I’m still married, still a Hale!” He shakes Mr Rosling’s hand and drags Derek out of the lawyer’s office; it’s a definite cause for celebration.
Present:
Stiles curses to himself as he drops his keys into the little bowl near the front of the door. He’s soaked in sweat and smells like garbage, literally like garbage. “34 community hours left and counting,” he yells out.
He can hear Derek laugh from where he’s sitting in the TV room, reclined and drinking a crisp beer - and isn’t that the life, not picking up used condoms and cigarette butts. “Your dad called, told him you’d call him later, that you were out running errands.”
“Thank the Lord,” Stiles mutters bypassing Derek and heading straight to the shower.
Yeah Stiles’ dad may know about his and Derek’s separation, then their reunion but he’s not in the know regarding what actually happened in the middle of those two events. Stiles prefers to think of it as a blip in time. There’s no reason that papa Stilinski needs to know that Stiles got arrested, bailed out on his court date and then had a warrant out for his arrest - no his Sheriff father definitely does not need to know that. Thankfully Derek understands that much as well.
Stiles lets the hot water run down his back, longer than necessary soothing his sore muscles. He scrubs his body clean ridding himself of any dirt and sweat, replacing it with his pomegranate scented soap - the one Derek makes fun of him for using, yet Derek still runs his nose along Stiles’ neck and inhales, so how badly could he really hate it?
When Stiles it out of the shower he plops down on the bed and calls his dad at the station, hoping he’s still in and not out on a call.
“Hey Dad,” Stiles said when his dad picked up the phone.
“Stiles! How are you son?” the Sheriff asks, and they fall into their familiar pattern of conversation.
How everyone’s doing, how Ms McCall is, Scott and Allison. When is Stiles and Derek coming back home to visit? It’s the same sort of conversation they have every time, but Stiles knows better than to take it for granted. So he assures his dad that they’ll be back to visit soon enough, and in the mean time they can book a ticket for him to come out to New York and visit.
Past:
“Plastic cutlery, paper plates,” Stiles scoffed. He was helping Derek pack up his dingy apartment so they could move everything back into Stiles’ new, larger apartment - one with a doorman, and no wood and newspaper covering a broken window. “Dare I even look in the cupboards?”
Stiles walks the short distance to Derek’s cupboards and open it up to see a few cans of beans, ramen noodles and a box of cereal.
“Jesus Christ Derek, how you managed without me, I don’t even know.”
“Well then don’t let it happen again,” Derek warns Stiles, he says it as a joke but they both know it’s more than a joke; it’s as serious as either of them could get.
“Well back to proper home-cooked meals,” Stiles said, turned around and continued to pack up the lacking contents of Derek’s kitchen. It wasn’t even so much as packing as throwing it all in a garbage bag to throw in the dumpster out back.
Derek’s mindful to clean out the bathroom on his own, throwing out Simon’s toothbrush and ridding any evidence of Simon ever being in the apartment, he dumps the condoms too. Fortunately he and Simon weren’t in an actual relationship, so there’s no awkward giving of stuff back, saying goodbyes or anything. Once the toothbrush and condoms hit the bottom of the trash can, any trace of has vanished into thin air.
Stiles had offered that they could look for a new place to live, after all they did have their nice house they lived in before - although now sold, they could always look for another place, one they both liked. Derek shook his head saying Stiles’ apartment was fine, even though he had made fun of Stiles’ place when he first went there to pick up Stiles to haul him into jail he had to admit he actually kind of liked it - so long as they don’t have to talk to Stiles’ pretentious neighbours. Besides, moving was such a hassle and moving Derek’s limited belonging to Stiles’ apartment was enough work as it is.
On the plus side now Derek doesn’t have to move the Camaro Stiles had bargained with back to his apartment, it can stay tucked into the secure parking garage at the apartment rather than sitting on the street in Brooklyn, where it’s likely to be broken in to. Everything was definitely working out.
Present:
It’s early October, a few months they’ve been officially back together - the air crisp, leaves changing to different shades of yellows and oranges, cold enough to wear a sweater and still be warm enough, both Derek and Stiles’ favourite season. Who can resist apple cider, pumpkins and hay rides? There wasn’t a lot to do in Beacon Hills okay, they took Halloween seriously.
Derek had considered going back to being a cop but decided against it. If he were being honest with himself, he liked being a Bounty Hunter. He pretty much got to work his own hours; Boyd didn’t bother him so long as he got his fugitives in on time. Plus, with being a bounty hunter Derek has more time for Stiles - Stiles who really is making an effort not to work so hard and chase every good story in New York.
That being said, Stiles is seated at the front of a court room - thankfully not in trouble himself this time, rather writing a piece on a trial going on at the moment. He’s riveted about what’s being unfolded in the courtroom, also a little sick at what’s hearing - but he’s itching to get out of here and call Derek. The sentencing should be done in a few hours.
To: Derek Hale
“Get to the Court House ASAP!!”
Derek was just about to get on the subway and head home when he had gotten Stiles’ text and immediately got on the other subway heading in the opposite direction, towards Stiles.
He was out of breath as he jogged when he saw Stiles sitting on the steps in front of the court house, presumably reading the article he’d been working on. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Stiles, curious as to what he wanted though.
Stiles looked up, sensing someone staring at him when he saw Derek walking towards him. He smiled, tucked the papers into his satchel and stood up. “Okay, don’t freak out or anything,” Stiles hedged.
“Stiles,” Derek warned, “what have you done?”
“Nothing. Yet,” Stiles smirked and grabbed Derek’s hand leading him into the court house.
Stiles led Derek through the court house, winding through various corridors, he started to become unsettled and couldn’t help but feel like Stiles was about to break the law or something equally horrifying. They appeared at a large wooden door that looked like all the other doors they’d passed, when Stiles knocked on the door and opened it. He stepped inside, dragging Derek in behind him.
Derek walked into the room, where there was a large wooden table, 5 or 6 chairs tucked in. Two of the chairs were filled, one an elderly lady, probably in her 50’s with greying hair and horn-rimmed glasses. The other chair was filled with a little boy, with blonde curly hair, watery blue eyes he couldn’t be any older than two years old - playing with large blocked Lego toys that was built to look like a construction site. The little boy was driving the little yellow dump truck, ramming it into the Lego to watch it tumble before he started to rebuild it.
The elderly lady looked up when she heard the door open, smiled and set down the papers. “Stiles,” was all she said still smiling.
“Judy,” Stiles replied smiling, “This is Derek. Derek, Judy,” he said as an introduction.
Derek nodded his head, extending his hand as Judy stood to shake his hand. His eyes flitted back to the little boy, who looked up to see who these new people were that entered the room. The little boy stared at Derek for a few minutes, and then his eyes wandered to Stiles.
“Sti,” the little boy said smiling and then went back to his Lego construction site.
Stiles beamed, walking closer to the little boy and turned to face Derek. “Derek, meet Isaac,” he placed his hands on Isaac’s shoulder, “I want to adopt him.”
Chapter 12|