New Teen Wolf Fic: Except What Has Been Forgotten, Rated R, 14/?
Except What Has Been Forgotten, Part 14
by Suz
Thank you to the terrific rhiannonhero :) Feedback would be wonderful :)
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13.
*
Between the two of them, they tried to convince Dad that Stiles didn't need to stay under 24-hour Overprotective Dad Watch.
Stiles couldn't help but notice that Derek was standing as far away from him as possible, hovering by the back door.
"But if you're saying he's not a physical threat," Dad was asking from where he stood at the counter, a bottle of scotch and a glass resting in front of him, "you sure as hell didn't act like it, getting here as fast as you did. Running after him."
Derek's face looked truly uncomfortable. "Stiles is still missing a lot of information - that makes him vulnerable. I knew that."
"Vulnerable to what, if not violence?"
"Manipulation," Derek explained. "It's what Peter always did best - even before the fire." That was comforting. "Peter was trying to involve him in one of his twisted games, take advantage of his amnesia. I couldn't let that happen."
The thought was sweet and all, but really. "First of all," Stiles began, because he had a list, "I'm a little - actually, more than a little offended that you'd think I'd ever really be taken in by Mr Crazy Pants. Yes, yes," he quickly added when Derek opened his mouth to say something, "he's good at it, he's an expert study of the human psyche, I temporarily believed him about Deaton, whatever. I knew I couldn't trust him the moment he first appeared in my bedroom in the middle of the night-"
"He was in your bedroom?"
Aww, crap. Derek just rolled his eyes at him as Stiles tried to produce a reassurring smile for his dad. "Okay, yes. I probably should've mentioned that. But!" He gestured with both hands. "He left me alone when I told him to. In fact, every time I've told him to stop doing something, he has. Clearly he has issues," because hey, he so wasn't doubting that, "but I seriously don't think he's going to do anything to me outright. For one thing," he added, quickly flicking his gaze over to Derek before looking away, "he knows it'd cause him...trouble."
Derek grunted his acknowledgement. It was nice to have it confirmed.
Sighing, Dad reached for his glass. "I don't know, Stiles. I'm still trying to deal with...all of this, but this doesn't seem right, even for werewolves. Uh," he added, no doubt thinking of Derek, "no offense."
"None taken."
"I mean," Dad continued, "breaking into the house? Turning up in your room in the middle of the night? That's not the behaviour of someone who's...normal."
Stiles looked at Derek pointedly.
Derek just glared right back.
"But I told him to get out and he did. And he didn't come back, right? He didn't even come into the house this time. He is...following the guidelines he's being given. For whatever reason. I don't think he's going to do anything." Stiles kind of couldn't believe he was making an argument for leaving Peter alone - but then, he really was doing it for his own benefit, so Dad didn't feel compelled to keep him on lockdown.
"If I thought he was being that big a threat," Derek announced, probably thinking he was being helpful, "I'd kill him." He paused. "Again." Stiles just rolled his eyes.
Dad gulped down the last of the scotch before turning to face Derek speculatively. "Do me a favour? Don't mention murder in front of me. Even if it is the asshole stalking my son. That said," he conceded, "is there a particular reason you...haven't murdered him?"
Stiles' mouth fell open. "Dad!"
"Not that I'm advocating murder," he quickly added.
"Derek's not a murderer," Stiles felt compelled to point out, but then realised he actually kind of was. He hadn't considered this much before. "It's only ever been people who were killing others." Actually... "Right?" he asked Derek, because he was pretty sure he was right but he was still fuzzy on some of the details. Derek nodded. Good. "Right."
"You're my son, Stiles," Dad argued. "My own flesh and blood. The only family I have left. You think I'm not going to do everything I can to keep you safe?"
Derek snorted then, which totally ruined the moment. Realising the disapproving looks he was getting from both the Stilinskis, he shook his head. "I wasn't..." he shrugged, then explained. "Peter's the only family I have left."
Stiles had known that, he had. He just...forgot, sometimes. Man, that sounded bad.
As screwed up as their dynamic was, of course Derek didn't want to kill Peter - he was his last living relative.
"Look," Derek said, "like I said, he's only a threat when he thinks he can manipulate someone. He finds it entertaining. He enjoys the show. He knows that by...interacting with Stiles, he'll get one."
"Why?" Stiles asked, frowning. And then saw that Derek and Dad were looking at him like he was not only dumb, but like he was the dumbest person on the face of the planet. "Oh," he said, face flushing as glanced across at Derek, before dropping his head. Apparently, that cat was firmly and obviously out of the Derek bag. He really didn't know how he felt about that. "Anyway," he rushed on, eager to change the subject, "there's an easy way to fix the 'Stiles is missing a lot of information and that apparently makes him easy to manipulate even though he's not an idiot' thing." He made a point to eye them both, despite the still-present flush of embarrassment. "We go back to the warehouse tomorrow, and you and the others tell me - and Dad - everything that we need to know. Everything," he emphasised because he'd made this decision, this choice now, and he was going to stick with it. He couldn't back-out now. "So even if I'm still technically missing memories, at least I'll know everything."
Seeming satisfied with that arrangement, Derek looked over to Dad. "That work for you, Sheriff?"
"Sure," Dad said, gesturing with his glass. "Actually," he revised, "tomorrow's a good idea. Gives me some time to...think." Frowning heavily, he snatched up the bottle and started moving around the counter. "I'll be in my office."
Pushing his stool back quickly, Stiles managed to intercept his dad before he made it out the kitchen. Holding out one hand with a knowing look, he didn't give in until Dad handed the bottle across with an angry sigh. Once Dad was gone, Stiles put the scotch away in the first cupboard he came to, and faced Derek.
Who was still lingering by the back door. "I should go," he said.
"Probably," Stiles agreed, because he was coming up with one of those bad ideas again. He ended up going with it anyway. "You freaked out earlier," he said. "After...the thing with the wrist." He gestured with the hand that'd received some extremely enjoyable fondling earlier. He didn't need to say anything else, because the question was implied.
Derek looked really, really uncomfortable and, quite frankly, like he wanted to bolt again. Thankfully, this time, he managed to get out, "You're him. But not."
So Derek's discomfort over this situation stemmed largely from the same area as Stiles' did. That kind of made sense - or as much as anything did in this situation. "You think it's weird for you?" he asked with a depricating smile. "When I remember something I can...feel the things he did. Feel the way he did. But it's not my feelings, if that even makes any sense." He was so busy contemplating that, that it took him a while to realise the expression Derek was trying to keep off his face - hurt. Shit, he hadn't meant to be cruel about this, he hadn't meant to do that at all.
There was an interesting psychological question here, somewhere. Could someone, who was the same in every way except for 18 months of missing memories, develop feelings for the same person all over again?
Stiles knew he was at least some of the way there. "Yet," he added, because it was true. Sometimes it got to the point where he didn't know where his feelings ended and Previous Stiles' feelings began. "Because we're a..." he thought of something, smiled. "Work in progress."
That did make Derek look better at least; definitely less sorry for himself. "Date keeps getting pushed back," he joked, and if he could joke about it he was definitely feeling better.
But now it was Stiles who couldn't help but take it seriously, becoming more and more sure that there had been some understanding between them before he forgot everything. "Must be frustrating."
"Extremely," Derek admitted - and then he was moving again like he had earlier, brushing past Stiles on his way out the house. Stiles thought he heard him say something about having to go, but then the door was slamming shut and Stiles just stared at it, confused.
Sighing, he made his way to the front of the house and when he heard a noise, looked up to see Dad standing at the top of the stairs.
"Kid," Dad said, "if you're seriously still going to try and tell me there's nothing going on between the two of you, I'm not buying it."
Rolling his eyes - because that was really helpful, thanks, Dad - Stiles purposefully ignored him until he heard Dad's feet moving away on the floorboards upstairs. Only now he was standing in the same place he had earlier, when Derek had first arrived. The same place Derek had held his wrist, rubbed his hands all over it like he was claiming him or something...
Stiles barely had the lock thrown across his bedroom door before the zipper was open and his hand was down his pants.
He'd somehow forgotten, in what was really only a week and a half, how good this felt. Probably because, what with the head injury, he hadn't felt like jerking off until now. Stumbling across the room with his pants halfway down his thighs, Stiles tugged down his briefs and threw his body down, back-first, onto the bed. Licking a tongue across his right palm, Stiles got right back to business. It wasn't going to be long, or drawn-out. It may have really only been a week and a half, but for Stiles it'd been a year and a half, too. It really wasn't going to take long; not with Derek as the object of his horny affections. He worked his dick quickly, tightening the grip, twisting just the way he'd learned he liked it, pressing his lips together to help him keep quiet. He couldn't spread his legs much with his pants still trapped around them but that made it better, somehow, not being able to move and he just had to think of Derek and his red eyes when he'd smelled his skin and the way he'd rubbed his hands over Stiles' wrist and warmth pressure skin Derek Derek Derek-
His sneakers pressed down into the mattress and he didn't care didn't care didn't care, just let out a long breath through his nose, mouth still clamped shut as his body jerked and shook and shook and shook. Panting, opening his mouth, Stiles' body relaxed against the bed, arm flopping to one side.
Wow. Yeah. Okay. Jerking off was definitely still awesome in this slightly different body.
When he'd recovered enough, he was totally doing that again. He had a lot of lost time to make up for.
*
The next morning, when Stiles was a lot more bleary-eyed than he should've been for someone who 'went to bed' at the time he did, Dad was not in any way watching him suspiciously. Dad also seemed much more ready to face the idea of werewolves existing - something Stiles couldn't help but point out, was eager to point out so Dad would stop staring at him.
"It's like your mom always said," Dad told him, as they climbed into the jeep. "Sleep on it, and you'll feel better. Though, admittedly, I'm sure she never thought we'd be sleeping on the topic of werewolves."
"Could we watch something that's not science fiction, fantasy or based on a comic book? Just once?"
Stiles didn't even look up, just smiled as he kept flicking through the options in the Science Fiction - Fantasy section. "Have I ever steered you wrong?" Stiles didn't need to move his head to know that Derek was staring at him in a way that said, Yes, many times. Which was a complete and total lie.
Apart from that one time with the ghoul.
"Sleep on it and get back to me," Stiles said instead. "I think you'll find my choices are invaluable."
Once they'd exhausted Stiles' DVD collection, it'd somehow become their joint responsibility to pick up snacks and a movie everytime they had a pack movie night. If he were honest with himself, Stiles was almost starting to enjoy these moments more - the teasing and squabbling over which movie to watch, the arguments over which snacks to get and the best place to buy them. Derek argued they might as well just buy the snacks at the DVD store. Stiles called him a heathen - a heathen - for not wanting to indulge in the much larger snack aisle that the grocery store provided.
They always ended up at the grocery store. Stiles knew who the real Alpha of the pack was.
In the few months since The Healing Incident Thing and these movie nights had started, they really had become closer. And since that night a few weeks ago, when Derek had fumbled over an offer to be there for him and his dad, they'd become closer still. Stiles knew it had a lot to do with the fact that he'd finally bought a clue and realised that Derek liked him. Liked liked him. Honestly, the idea hadn't even been on his radar no matter how attractive he'd always found Derek, for numerous reasons. Lydia, school, lacrosse, their sucky lives that were slowly beginning to suck not quite as much.
It wasn't as if they even talked all that much. They didn't see each other every day; most of their communicating was still done via text message. They'd just got really good at reading each other, lately. Stiles knew that most of his emotions were always all over his face anyway, but he'd personally become an expert decipherer of Moody Glare v1.0, Moody Glare v1.1, and so on. They were all slightly different and meant slightly different things, and - quite honesly - didn't appear as much as they used to. Now he was having to figure out Hint of A Smile v2.3 or It's-Fondness-Really Eye Rolling, v3.6 (there was still a lot of eye rolling. Some things were never going to change).
So, things were changing and he knew things were changing - but he still didn't know if he should do anything about it. When he'd realised how Derek had felt about him, he'd been hesitant because they were both so screwed up. Derek had lost so much, Stiles had been cresting the wave of a constant panic attack for what'd felt like endless months. But...that wasn't quite true anymore. Stiles wasn't good, not really, but he was doing better now than he had in months, wasn't having to force himself not to jump at every unexplained noise or sudden movement. And Derek was still Derek, but he seemed...calmer. A little softer around the edges.
Stiles just really liked where they were right now. How comfortable they'd become with each other. He had something good in his life, finally, and he wasn't sure he wanted that to change.
Of course, the gaudy tinsel strewn around the store kept bringing something else to mind, too.
"You guys still doing Christmas?"
"Apparently." Derek sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. Erica had made it clear some weeks ago that she wasn't missing out on Christmas, even if it was going to be with cold-cuts (Scott's mom had invited them over but Scott had told her - with their blessing - that they all had plans, quietly worried his dad would turn up and make a scene the way he had been for a while now. Derek was still infuriated that Scott wouldn't let him intervene personally). There was a tiny Christmas tree in the corner of the warehouse that had nothing to do with Stiles whatsoever. He certainly hadn't helped Isaac pick it out, who'd been ridiculously excited about the whole thing, and he certainly hadn't organised a pack decorating evening, much to Derek's silent but equally apparent disgust.
"You know they need it," he reminded, because they'd discussed it at the time. Derek's relationship with just about everyone in the pack had improved in leaps and bounds - Allison was understandably still hit and miss, although getting more hit than miss, these days - and he'd come to recognise that they needed these routines, these pieces of a normal life.
Stiles' next plan was to get Derek living in an actual house, and not one that was literally falling down around him.
"I know," Derek admitted, suddenly focusing extremely intently on a DVD he'd picked up. Stiles was pretty sure Derek had no idea at all what movie it was. "Family holidays are just..."
Stiles knew. It'd been the same at Thanksgiving. Derek had let them get on and do whatever they'd wanted to do, but hadn't really got involved.
"But you're doing the right thing by them," Stiles reminded him, "and that's all they really need."
Derek didn't respond at all, just turned the DVD over to 'study' the other side. Shaking his head, Stiles moved away to give him the space he so obviously needed.
He was tracked down in the Action - Adventure section a few minutes later, Derek holding the last DVD Stiles had been contemplating in the Science Fiction - Fantasy section.
They stared at each other.
"We need to get snacks. Let's go," Derek said, and they did.
Dad was saying something.
Blinking, Stiles shook his head and faced him. "Sorry," he said, automatically reaching for his seat belt.
"Memory?" Dad asked, no doubt getting used to this happening. Dad had confirmed that, even though it could feel like ages to him, these flashbacks - for whatever reason - were taking less and less time for him to experience in the real world. Now they were down to split-seconds, leaving Stiles with a sudden rush of emotion each time.
"Yeah." Stiles nodded, starting the engine, moving the gear stick, checking the mirrors.
"A good one?"
Stiles didn't even know why but he turned his head away, pretending he was fiddling with his window - it was always getting jammed - just so he could keep the resulting smile to himself. "Yeah," was all he said, and then he was pulling away from the curb.
TBC
Next Part
by Suz
Thank you to the terrific rhiannonhero :) Feedback would be wonderful :)
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13.
*
Between the two of them, they tried to convince Dad that Stiles didn't need to stay under 24-hour Overprotective Dad Watch.
Stiles couldn't help but notice that Derek was standing as far away from him as possible, hovering by the back door.
"But if you're saying he's not a physical threat," Dad was asking from where he stood at the counter, a bottle of scotch and a glass resting in front of him, "you sure as hell didn't act like it, getting here as fast as you did. Running after him."
Derek's face looked truly uncomfortable. "Stiles is still missing a lot of information - that makes him vulnerable. I knew that."
"Vulnerable to what, if not violence?"
"Manipulation," Derek explained. "It's what Peter always did best - even before the fire." That was comforting. "Peter was trying to involve him in one of his twisted games, take advantage of his amnesia. I couldn't let that happen."
The thought was sweet and all, but really. "First of all," Stiles began, because he had a list, "I'm a little - actually, more than a little offended that you'd think I'd ever really be taken in by Mr Crazy Pants. Yes, yes," he quickly added when Derek opened his mouth to say something, "he's good at it, he's an expert study of the human psyche, I temporarily believed him about Deaton, whatever. I knew I couldn't trust him the moment he first appeared in my bedroom in the middle of the night-"
"He was in your bedroom?"
Aww, crap. Derek just rolled his eyes at him as Stiles tried to produce a reassurring smile for his dad. "Okay, yes. I probably should've mentioned that. But!" He gestured with both hands. "He left me alone when I told him to. In fact, every time I've told him to stop doing something, he has. Clearly he has issues," because hey, he so wasn't doubting that, "but I seriously don't think he's going to do anything to me outright. For one thing," he added, quickly flicking his gaze over to Derek before looking away, "he knows it'd cause him...trouble."
Derek grunted his acknowledgement. It was nice to have it confirmed.
Sighing, Dad reached for his glass. "I don't know, Stiles. I'm still trying to deal with...all of this, but this doesn't seem right, even for werewolves. Uh," he added, no doubt thinking of Derek, "no offense."
"None taken."
"I mean," Dad continued, "breaking into the house? Turning up in your room in the middle of the night? That's not the behaviour of someone who's...normal."
Stiles looked at Derek pointedly.
Derek just glared right back.
"But I told him to get out and he did. And he didn't come back, right? He didn't even come into the house this time. He is...following the guidelines he's being given. For whatever reason. I don't think he's going to do anything." Stiles kind of couldn't believe he was making an argument for leaving Peter alone - but then, he really was doing it for his own benefit, so Dad didn't feel compelled to keep him on lockdown.
"If I thought he was being that big a threat," Derek announced, probably thinking he was being helpful, "I'd kill him." He paused. "Again." Stiles just rolled his eyes.
Dad gulped down the last of the scotch before turning to face Derek speculatively. "Do me a favour? Don't mention murder in front of me. Even if it is the asshole stalking my son. That said," he conceded, "is there a particular reason you...haven't murdered him?"
Stiles' mouth fell open. "Dad!"
"Not that I'm advocating murder," he quickly added.
"Derek's not a murderer," Stiles felt compelled to point out, but then realised he actually kind of was. He hadn't considered this much before. "It's only ever been people who were killing others." Actually... "Right?" he asked Derek, because he was pretty sure he was right but he was still fuzzy on some of the details. Derek nodded. Good. "Right."
"You're my son, Stiles," Dad argued. "My own flesh and blood. The only family I have left. You think I'm not going to do everything I can to keep you safe?"
Derek snorted then, which totally ruined the moment. Realising the disapproving looks he was getting from both the Stilinskis, he shook his head. "I wasn't..." he shrugged, then explained. "Peter's the only family I have left."
Stiles had known that, he had. He just...forgot, sometimes. Man, that sounded bad.
As screwed up as their dynamic was, of course Derek didn't want to kill Peter - he was his last living relative.
"Look," Derek said, "like I said, he's only a threat when he thinks he can manipulate someone. He finds it entertaining. He enjoys the show. He knows that by...interacting with Stiles, he'll get one."
"Why?" Stiles asked, frowning. And then saw that Derek and Dad were looking at him like he was not only dumb, but like he was the dumbest person on the face of the planet. "Oh," he said, face flushing as glanced across at Derek, before dropping his head. Apparently, that cat was firmly and obviously out of the Derek bag. He really didn't know how he felt about that. "Anyway," he rushed on, eager to change the subject, "there's an easy way to fix the 'Stiles is missing a lot of information and that apparently makes him easy to manipulate even though he's not an idiot' thing." He made a point to eye them both, despite the still-present flush of embarrassment. "We go back to the warehouse tomorrow, and you and the others tell me - and Dad - everything that we need to know. Everything," he emphasised because he'd made this decision, this choice now, and he was going to stick with it. He couldn't back-out now. "So even if I'm still technically missing memories, at least I'll know everything."
Seeming satisfied with that arrangement, Derek looked over to Dad. "That work for you, Sheriff?"
"Sure," Dad said, gesturing with his glass. "Actually," he revised, "tomorrow's a good idea. Gives me some time to...think." Frowning heavily, he snatched up the bottle and started moving around the counter. "I'll be in my office."
Pushing his stool back quickly, Stiles managed to intercept his dad before he made it out the kitchen. Holding out one hand with a knowing look, he didn't give in until Dad handed the bottle across with an angry sigh. Once Dad was gone, Stiles put the scotch away in the first cupboard he came to, and faced Derek.
Who was still lingering by the back door. "I should go," he said.
"Probably," Stiles agreed, because he was coming up with one of those bad ideas again. He ended up going with it anyway. "You freaked out earlier," he said. "After...the thing with the wrist." He gestured with the hand that'd received some extremely enjoyable fondling earlier. He didn't need to say anything else, because the question was implied.
Derek looked really, really uncomfortable and, quite frankly, like he wanted to bolt again. Thankfully, this time, he managed to get out, "You're him. But not."
So Derek's discomfort over this situation stemmed largely from the same area as Stiles' did. That kind of made sense - or as much as anything did in this situation. "You think it's weird for you?" he asked with a depricating smile. "When I remember something I can...feel the things he did. Feel the way he did. But it's not my feelings, if that even makes any sense." He was so busy contemplating that, that it took him a while to realise the expression Derek was trying to keep off his face - hurt. Shit, he hadn't meant to be cruel about this, he hadn't meant to do that at all.
There was an interesting psychological question here, somewhere. Could someone, who was the same in every way except for 18 months of missing memories, develop feelings for the same person all over again?
Stiles knew he was at least some of the way there. "Yet," he added, because it was true. Sometimes it got to the point where he didn't know where his feelings ended and Previous Stiles' feelings began. "Because we're a..." he thought of something, smiled. "Work in progress."
That did make Derek look better at least; definitely less sorry for himself. "Date keeps getting pushed back," he joked, and if he could joke about it he was definitely feeling better.
But now it was Stiles who couldn't help but take it seriously, becoming more and more sure that there had been some understanding between them before he forgot everything. "Must be frustrating."
"Extremely," Derek admitted - and then he was moving again like he had earlier, brushing past Stiles on his way out the house. Stiles thought he heard him say something about having to go, but then the door was slamming shut and Stiles just stared at it, confused.
Sighing, he made his way to the front of the house and when he heard a noise, looked up to see Dad standing at the top of the stairs.
"Kid," Dad said, "if you're seriously still going to try and tell me there's nothing going on between the two of you, I'm not buying it."
Rolling his eyes - because that was really helpful, thanks, Dad - Stiles purposefully ignored him until he heard Dad's feet moving away on the floorboards upstairs. Only now he was standing in the same place he had earlier, when Derek had first arrived. The same place Derek had held his wrist, rubbed his hands all over it like he was claiming him or something...
Stiles barely had the lock thrown across his bedroom door before the zipper was open and his hand was down his pants.
He'd somehow forgotten, in what was really only a week and a half, how good this felt. Probably because, what with the head injury, he hadn't felt like jerking off until now. Stumbling across the room with his pants halfway down his thighs, Stiles tugged down his briefs and threw his body down, back-first, onto the bed. Licking a tongue across his right palm, Stiles got right back to business. It wasn't going to be long, or drawn-out. It may have really only been a week and a half, but for Stiles it'd been a year and a half, too. It really wasn't going to take long; not with Derek as the object of his horny affections. He worked his dick quickly, tightening the grip, twisting just the way he'd learned he liked it, pressing his lips together to help him keep quiet. He couldn't spread his legs much with his pants still trapped around them but that made it better, somehow, not being able to move and he just had to think of Derek and his red eyes when he'd smelled his skin and the way he'd rubbed his hands over Stiles' wrist and warmth pressure skin Derek Derek Derek-
His sneakers pressed down into the mattress and he didn't care didn't care didn't care, just let out a long breath through his nose, mouth still clamped shut as his body jerked and shook and shook and shook. Panting, opening his mouth, Stiles' body relaxed against the bed, arm flopping to one side.
Wow. Yeah. Okay. Jerking off was definitely still awesome in this slightly different body.
When he'd recovered enough, he was totally doing that again. He had a lot of lost time to make up for.
*
The next morning, when Stiles was a lot more bleary-eyed than he should've been for someone who 'went to bed' at the time he did, Dad was not in any way watching him suspiciously. Dad also seemed much more ready to face the idea of werewolves existing - something Stiles couldn't help but point out, was eager to point out so Dad would stop staring at him.
"It's like your mom always said," Dad told him, as they climbed into the jeep. "Sleep on it, and you'll feel better. Though, admittedly, I'm sure she never thought we'd be sleeping on the topic of werewolves."
"Could we watch something that's not science fiction, fantasy or based on a comic book? Just once?"
Stiles didn't even look up, just smiled as he kept flicking through the options in the Science Fiction - Fantasy section. "Have I ever steered you wrong?" Stiles didn't need to move his head to know that Derek was staring at him in a way that said, Yes, many times. Which was a complete and total lie.
Apart from that one time with the ghoul.
"Sleep on it and get back to me," Stiles said instead. "I think you'll find my choices are invaluable."
Once they'd exhausted Stiles' DVD collection, it'd somehow become their joint responsibility to pick up snacks and a movie everytime they had a pack movie night. If he were honest with himself, Stiles was almost starting to enjoy these moments more - the teasing and squabbling over which movie to watch, the arguments over which snacks to get and the best place to buy them. Derek argued they might as well just buy the snacks at the DVD store. Stiles called him a heathen - a heathen - for not wanting to indulge in the much larger snack aisle that the grocery store provided.
They always ended up at the grocery store. Stiles knew who the real Alpha of the pack was.
In the few months since The Healing Incident Thing and these movie nights had started, they really had become closer. And since that night a few weeks ago, when Derek had fumbled over an offer to be there for him and his dad, they'd become closer still. Stiles knew it had a lot to do with the fact that he'd finally bought a clue and realised that Derek liked him. Liked liked him. Honestly, the idea hadn't even been on his radar no matter how attractive he'd always found Derek, for numerous reasons. Lydia, school, lacrosse, their sucky lives that were slowly beginning to suck not quite as much.
It wasn't as if they even talked all that much. They didn't see each other every day; most of their communicating was still done via text message. They'd just got really good at reading each other, lately. Stiles knew that most of his emotions were always all over his face anyway, but he'd personally become an expert decipherer of Moody Glare v1.0, Moody Glare v1.1, and so on. They were all slightly different and meant slightly different things, and - quite honesly - didn't appear as much as they used to. Now he was having to figure out Hint of A Smile v2.3 or It's-Fondness-Really Eye Rolling, v3.6 (there was still a lot of eye rolling. Some things were never going to change).
So, things were changing and he knew things were changing - but he still didn't know if he should do anything about it. When he'd realised how Derek had felt about him, he'd been hesitant because they were both so screwed up. Derek had lost so much, Stiles had been cresting the wave of a constant panic attack for what'd felt like endless months. But...that wasn't quite true anymore. Stiles wasn't good, not really, but he was doing better now than he had in months, wasn't having to force himself not to jump at every unexplained noise or sudden movement. And Derek was still Derek, but he seemed...calmer. A little softer around the edges.
Stiles just really liked where they were right now. How comfortable they'd become with each other. He had something good in his life, finally, and he wasn't sure he wanted that to change.
Of course, the gaudy tinsel strewn around the store kept bringing something else to mind, too.
"You guys still doing Christmas?"
"Apparently." Derek sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. Erica had made it clear some weeks ago that she wasn't missing out on Christmas, even if it was going to be with cold-cuts (Scott's mom had invited them over but Scott had told her - with their blessing - that they all had plans, quietly worried his dad would turn up and make a scene the way he had been for a while now. Derek was still infuriated that Scott wouldn't let him intervene personally). There was a tiny Christmas tree in the corner of the warehouse that had nothing to do with Stiles whatsoever. He certainly hadn't helped Isaac pick it out, who'd been ridiculously excited about the whole thing, and he certainly hadn't organised a pack decorating evening, much to Derek's silent but equally apparent disgust.
"You know they need it," he reminded, because they'd discussed it at the time. Derek's relationship with just about everyone in the pack had improved in leaps and bounds - Allison was understandably still hit and miss, although getting more hit than miss, these days - and he'd come to recognise that they needed these routines, these pieces of a normal life.
Stiles' next plan was to get Derek living in an actual house, and not one that was literally falling down around him.
"I know," Derek admitted, suddenly focusing extremely intently on a DVD he'd picked up. Stiles was pretty sure Derek had no idea at all what movie it was. "Family holidays are just..."
Stiles knew. It'd been the same at Thanksgiving. Derek had let them get on and do whatever they'd wanted to do, but hadn't really got involved.
"But you're doing the right thing by them," Stiles reminded him, "and that's all they really need."
Derek didn't respond at all, just turned the DVD over to 'study' the other side. Shaking his head, Stiles moved away to give him the space he so obviously needed.
He was tracked down in the Action - Adventure section a few minutes later, Derek holding the last DVD Stiles had been contemplating in the Science Fiction - Fantasy section.
They stared at each other.
"We need to get snacks. Let's go," Derek said, and they did.
Dad was saying something.
Blinking, Stiles shook his head and faced him. "Sorry," he said, automatically reaching for his seat belt.
"Memory?" Dad asked, no doubt getting used to this happening. Dad had confirmed that, even though it could feel like ages to him, these flashbacks - for whatever reason - were taking less and less time for him to experience in the real world. Now they were down to split-seconds, leaving Stiles with a sudden rush of emotion each time.
"Yeah." Stiles nodded, starting the engine, moving the gear stick, checking the mirrors.
"A good one?"
Stiles didn't even know why but he turned his head away, pretending he was fiddling with his window - it was always getting jammed - just so he could keep the resulting smile to himself. "Yeah," was all he said, and then he was pulling away from the curb.
TBC
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