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“What’s a little intimacy between friends, right? Apparently, it makes friendships stronger. Sharing something like that. Not—not like a full-on friends with benefits thing or anything, just kissing. My prof said that everyone has thought about kissing some of their friends. Apparently. And uh, I heard that and thought of you…?”
He’s watching Derek with a curious tilt of his head. Face too passive for the gravity of what he’s asking. Almost like he’s ready to dismiss this as a joke as soon as Derek answers.
Derek’s not sure he can answer without giving it all away. So he does what he does best – shakes his head in amusement and dodges. Says something like ‘only you, Stiles’ and goes to clear the dishes.
Stiles stays seated and doesn’t follow him into the kitchen. Derek looks over his shoulder to find Stiles looking down at his hands. Maybe he needs a moment, Derek thinks, walking on to soak the dishes in warm water. He’ll wash them in the morning. It doesn’t feel right to leave Stiles sitting there alone while he washes dishes in here. And he knows exactly what will make Stiles snap out of the weird mood he’s been in all night.
He checks the freezer and finds the half empty box of Reese’s ice cream he’d bought on his last grocery run. Ice cream and Batman Returns is the perfect plan, he knows and can’t wait to see Stiles’ face when he realizes…. Stiles isn’t at the table where Derek left him.
“Stiles?” he calls out already knowing he isn’t here. No answer. He must’ve slipped out.
Derek sets the bowls down on the table. The silence in the loft is suddenly choking him. It shouldn’t; he lives alone most of the time and it’s always quiet but never like this. It’s like Stiles has taken the air with him.
*****
It had started with Stiles watching him like a hawk, his eyes following Derek’s every move around the loft almost till Derek snapped. Almost. Somehow, he always knew the exact moment to look away before he’d gone too far. Derek didn’t particularly enjoy being studied like an experiment. He didn’t even know why Stiles was there all the time. He’d just shown up one day chit-chatting with Cora about whatever teenagers chitchatted about. And the whole time he was there, his eyes were on Derek watching him do mundane things like starting a load of laundry.
It had lasted a few weeks. Derek had abruptly realized that he missed having intent eyes following his hands as he cooked. It’d hit him suddenly and he hadn’t been prepared. Stiles was starting at Berkley that week and Derek had known this because Stiles had announced it to the whole town on multiple occasions. He’d known and never thought it would affect his life at all.
The real hit hadn’t come till a few days later when Cora sat him down and told him she wanted to travel. Alone, she said and his heart thumped in his neck. Her hand on his was the only thing holding him down in that moment. She’d call him an overdramatic asshole later but in that second, she held on to him.
“I want you to come with me to Ireland, Derek.”
They’d gone there when Derek was around twelve, too young to remember much about the trip but he remembered the photos. Cora was definitely too young so she wanted to go with him. He’d agreed and hadn’t expect to like it much, the fear of the unknown sitting neatly on his chest all the way to the place.
Just before they were supposed to leave, Stiles had come back for his study break. He’d spent most of his time in Beacon Hills at the loft. Derek had almost asked if he’d had a fight with Scott but decided it wasn’t his place. That week, he and Cora giggled together like schoolchildren and never included Derek in their jokes. When Cora was out shopping for her trip or at the gym or wherever she went when she was fed up with him and his moping, Stiles stuck around. He was always doing something on his laptop which sometimes led to him laughing so hard he ended up coughing. Derek had asked the first few times only for Stiles to say weird things that made no sense whatsoever so Derek stopped asking.
They had coexisted peacefully. Stiles wasn’t watching him anymore, at least not like before. Derek didn’t know what to make of it.
Derek didn't miss Cora much that weekend. It just felt like a constant itch under his skin, knowing she was out there alone. But, he didn't jump on a plane to go after her so that's something.
***
He didn’t expect to fall in love with Ireland but he does. Connemara is beautiful and Derek wants to stay forever. But like all things, it comes to an end. They’re parting ways at Heathrow and Derek is close to crying so Cora sits him down and whisper-shouts at him about being an overprotective idiot. She says she’ll be fine and he should trust her more. He feels chastised and tries not to show how much seeing her disappear into the crowd hurts.
By the time he’s back in California, he feels like shit. His body and his mind are both exhausted but too riled up to rest. He only grunts in response when the immigration officer welcomes him back. He’s really not looking forward to driving back to Beacon Hills and contemplates getting a taxi for the hour-long drive when he hears his name being called. In an annoyingly excited voice. He looks up to find Stiles waving with both hands as if anyone could miss him. “Derek, over here!”
He trudges over with his bag slung over his shoulder. “What’re you doing here?”
Stiles doesn’t answer which is unusual for him. He simply takes the bag from Derek and gestures for him to walk first. “Stiles?” he tries again.
“I was driving down for the weekend anyway so I thought I’d come pick you up.” A shrug and a smile. “I knew you’d be too grumpy to drive safely. And I’m not morally prepared to unleash that danger on the general public.” Silent walk to the Jeep after that. And not a word about how he knew when Derek was landing or why he was driving to Beacon Hills on a Thursday when he has a morning class on Fridays.
The drive back to town doesn’t feel like an hour at all in the end. Stiles talks the whole way and Derek falls asleep just as they make it to Beacon Hills. Derek hasn’t fallen asleep in a car in more than a decade.
The weekend goes as the study break had gone. Stiles stays glued to his laptop, taking over the comfortable maroon sofa with his books and his junk food. Derek goes about his day as usual and dutifully rolls his eyes every time Stiles laughs like a madman. He even ends up on the floor once clutching his sides and rolling with laughter. There are real tears in his eyes and when Derek asks him what he’s laughing about, Stiles chokes out ‘paseggiliti’ like that means something.
***
It’s been a day since Stiles returned to Berkley. Derek’s phone pings which it hardly ever does so he takes it out of his pocket and stares at the screen. There’s a text. From Stiles. There has never been a text from Stiles before. He taps on it gingerly. Stiles is rambling like he does about early morning classes being evil and coffee tasting like shit because he’s gotten used to Derek’s gourmet coffee from his expensive machine. You’ve ruined coffee for me, Derek! I hope you’re happy, you dickhead.
Derek snorts as he sees the progressively profane texts popping up on the screen. He laughs without even thinking about it, startling the girl who’s ringing up his groceries. When he looks up, she’s watching him with wide eyes like she’s never seen him but Derek sees her every week. Amy, her nametag says, goes back to bagging his groceries still looking surprised and Derek realizes she didn’t startle because of the sudden sound but more that the sound came from him. He smiles politely, collects his groceries, and rushes out of the store.
Every morning for the next week, there’s a text from Stiles.
From Stiles Tuesday 8:02 am
I used to drink cheap, burnt coffee and think it was the nectar of the gods. Before you and your fancy coffee machine happened. Explain that.
From Stiles Wednesday 10:20 am
Tell me, how is a struggling student supposed to afford Starbucks every day? Tell me, Derek.
From Stiles Thursday 8:17 am
You have ruined me for regular coffee. I hope you’re proud of yourself.
From Stiles Friday 12:20 PM
I’m stealing your fancy coffee machine, asshole.
***
Derek gets him a $100 Starbucks gift card for Christmas. ‘The next five coffees are on me’ he writes on the card.
From Stiles Sunday 2:13 PM
Sourwolf’s got jokes, I like it!
From Stiles Sunday 2:15 PM
Thanks, Derek :)
In return, he buys Derek a gift card for Netflix. “See, this is all I can afford with my part-time job but it’s perfect because you respect me too much to not use it. And once you do use it, you’ll be hooked. You’ll be buying a massive flat screen and binging shows all day every day. So really, it’s the perfect gift, if you ask me.”
***
And Derek is hooked.
***
From Derek Tuesday 1:03 PM
Saw this trailer today. This is you and Scott.
He gets a response back within ten minutes.
From Stiles Tuesday 1:12 PM
Derek?
From Derek Tuesday 1:12 PM
Yeah
From Stiles Tuesday 1:13 PM
Fuck. You.
From Derek Tuesday 1:13 PM
Haha
From Stiles Tuesday 1:13 PM
No, seriously. I can’t believe you would think this! And that you watched this. Wait, how did you watch this? You’re on Netflix, aren’t you?! You used my card!
From Derek Tuesday 1:15 PM
No comment.
From Stiles Tuesday 1:15 PM
You did! Oh my god, you’ve got a Netflix account! Fucking finally!
From Derek Tuesday 1:16 PM
Maybe.
From Stiles Tuesday 1:16 PM
What plan?
From Derek Tuesday 1:16 PM
What?
From Stiles Tuesday 1:17 PM
Which plan? Like, how many screens?
From Derek Tuesday 1:17 PM
One…? I think.
From Stiles Tuesday 1:17 PM
Get two and send me the password. Pwease….
He does. And gets a thank you card in the mail like it’s the nineties. He opens the envelope while Cora’s there and bursts out laughing at the picture on the front. When Cora asks what he’s laughing at, he shows her the card. “You’re so weird!” she says and shakes her head and Derek realizes that’s what he usually does when Stiles laughs at one of those stupid jokes on his laptop.
It gives him pause. He decides that it’s normal for friends to start influencing each other’s sense of humor. Because that’s what they are – he and Stiles are good friends. He doesn’t know when it happened but Stiles is his friend. His closest friend.
Every few days, there’s a new show or a new movie in his Netflix list. He doesn’t realize what’s happening till Star Wars gets added to the list. He texts Stiles to ask him.
From Stiles Monday 1:17 PM
I’m trying to improve your cultural knowledge, Derek. Now that I’m not there to make you watch things on the weekends, this is how I teach you.
Derek starts watching things on his list one by one. He likes almost all of them.
***
When he adds something to Stiles’ list, he doesn’t expect to hear about it in conversation. After all, Stiles has a hundred things on his list and he probably won’t even notice. So he isn’t surprised that it never comes up in conversation.
Until the day he catches Stiles humming under his breath while pretending to help with dinner. Derek stops stirring the curry to concentrate and yes, it is what he thought it is. He turns to Stiles and watches him happily plating the rice, lost in his own world. He must feel Derek’s eyes on him because he looks up and immediately stops, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been caught.
Derek can’t help but grin.
“Oh, screw you! It’s a catchy song and you know it!”
He raises his hands in surrender. Still grinning.
“They’re nothing like me and Scott! I watched it because it’s funny, okay?”
“Okay.” He turns back to tend to the curry, still smiling.
“I can see your shoulders shaking!” Stiles cries and it just makes him laugh again. “You are not subtle, asshole! I see you with your coriander garnish and your special spices, laughing at me. I see you, Derek!”
Dinner ends with them watching Young Offenders on his massive flat screen which he did end up buying, as prophesized.
***
“Did you see the thing I added?” Stiles asks him as soon as he walks in the door. Derek looks over his shoulder to find Cora watching them intently. Stiles follows his gaze and startles. “Cora! You’re back!”
He drops his bag right there and runs to her. They hug it out like bros. Derek curses internally as soon as he thinks that because those are Stiles’ words that’ve slipped into his vocabulary. Thanks Stiles, he thinks picking up the bag and depositing it on the couch since the chances of Stiles tripping on the bag and breaking his neck are 100%.
“Yup, I am back!” Cora exclaims jumping up from the sofa to meet Stiles halfway. They haven’t see each other in nearly a year. The last time Cora was here, Stiles had finals and by the time he could come home Cora had already flown back to Europe. So, it’s quite the spectacle with both of them acting like it’s been decades since they’ve met.
“You’ve grown up so much, you used to be this tall when I saw you last,” Stiles says doing his best impression of a distant relative.
“And you! Your balls hadn’t yet dropped when we last met, Stiles!”
Derek makes the executive decision to remove himself from this conversation. They’ll come find him when they’re done doing whatever this is.
And they do.
“So what is the thing you added?” Cora’s saying as she leads Stiles into the kitchen. She goes to the fridge, looking for her many cans of coke - no doubt - while Stiles takes a seat at the bar, not so subtly stealing a slice of the apple Derek’s cutting. He winks when Derek gives him a look. Derek considers fighting him for the slice; Stiles must see it on his face because he hurriedly shoves the whole piece of apple into his mouth and nearly chokes on it. Good.
“Stiles!”
“Huh?”
“You asked Derek about something you added when you came? What’s that about?”
“Oh uh, Netflix?” Derek steadfastly ignores Stiles staring up at him, plates his apple and moves closer to the fridge to grab his shake as Stiles continues to answer, “I added a show on Netflix, it’s awesome! I’ve been dying to watch it so that’s what I’ll be doing this weekend. We can all see it now that you’re here…. what? Why’re you making that face?”
“Are you telling me you and my brother share a Netflix account?”
Derek skitters out of the kitchen leaving Stiles to deal with that. He tries not to listen, but Stiles’ voice always goes high like a choirboy’s when he’s stuttering. “Yeah, uh well--I mean—it’s Derek’s account. He just gave me the password because I begged and because I’m a poor student who can’t afford a Netflix account so it’s charity really. He’s very generous, your brother.”
“I’m sure he is,” he hears Cora saying a little too loudly. Possibly for his benefit. He stubbornly stays in his bedroom and doesn’t fall for the trap.
***
Cora pokes her head into the study just as he’s about to start typing. “Where’s the car?”
He sighs and wheels his chair around to face her. It’s not like he’s been staring at a blank screen for half an hour and finally had the will to write. “Stiles needed to run some errands. His jeep’s in the shop. Why?”
“You gave him your car?” she asks disbelievingly, completely ignoring his question.
“No, I lent him my car.”
She rolls her eyes as if he’s the one making this conversation unnecessarily long. Then she huffs and leaves without even explaining why she needed the car in the first place.
He turns to face his computer - the blank screen stares back at him.
***
“Okay, just hear me out.”
“What?” Derek snaps because Stiles has been at it for two days and Derek has been trying not to snap but now he has. Stiles backs up like he’s been hit and Derek instantly feels guilty for snapping. He doesn’t get to say anything more because Stiles retreats like a chastised dog.
Two hours later, Derek ends up going to the Sheriff’s. Stiles opens the door with a deranged look on his face that he calls his ‘charming smile’ – there’s nothing charming about it – which dims instantly when he sees who’s there. “It’s you,” he mutters and turns to go inside. Derek follows silently.
“Hey, Derek!” Sheriff Stilinski greets as Derek follows Stiles into the living room. There’s some baseball game on the TV, Derek notes with mild interest. Looks like a repeat of the game from last week.
“Sheriff,” he greets pulling his eyes away from the screen and nods at the man. An answering nod and Derek keeps walking. Stiles, no surprise, has his head and half his body buried inside the fridge. Derek waits for him to finish the tunnel he’s digging in there and watches him resurface with a huge container of chocolate milk.
“Stiles,” he starts but doesn’t know where to go from there. He was never the best at apologies.
“You’re still here?” Stiles says gulping down a mouthful of milk. Honestly, how can someone who’s twenty years old drink chocolate milk? He doesn’t voice that opinion knowing he’ll be covered in chocolate milk before he even finishes speaking.
“Look, I… I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier. It’s just—just that sometimes you’re… tiring.” Derek’s closing his eyes and cursing himself the second the words are out of his mouth.
“Huh...”
“I just mean—” he starts to backtrack but Stiles cuts him off. “You think I’m tiring?” he asks slowly and Derek can’t believe he’s made it even worse by coming over.
And then Stiles gets that deranged look on his face again. Derek almost takes a step back.
“Scott thinks I’m tiring.”
He’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean, if anything. “O-kay?”
Stiles puts his chocolate milk down on the counter and turns to him with open arms. “Do you know what this means, Der-der?”
Derek’s mouth pinches - an involuntary reaction to that name. He hates Cora for telling Stiles.
“It means we have reached a new level in this friendship, Hale. It means you’re my top bro, bro!” And before he can respond, he’s being engulfed in a hug. A crushing, warm hug.
He swallows down his protest.
If anybody were to ask, Derek’s sure he wouldn’t know how to explain what just happened. He went over to Stiles’ to see him and maybe, possibly sort of apologize. Then, he put his foot in his mouth by calling Stiles tiring and now he’s back at the loft with Stiles talking a mile a minute beside him. “—know that you’re not a huge fan of sci-fi but this is so much more than that. You love the twisted dark stuff, all those psychological thrillers. I’ve seen your Netflix, remember. So I know you’ll love this! And we can always skip the really sci-fi ones. That’s the beauty of it – they’re all standalone stories! It’s awesome--”
“What are you talking about?” Derek interjects because if he waits for Stiles to stop for a breath, they’ll be here for days.
“Black Mirror!” Stiles says throwing his hands up in frustration. “Did you listen to anything I just said?”
“I did listen but you talk so fast and I’m also trying to make dinner here,” he points at the onion he’s chopping because Stiles refuses to eat nachos without guacamole. “So, what is dark mirror?” he asks when Stiles doesn’t say anything for a full minute.
“Black Mirror,” Derek is quickly corrected.
“Yeah, Black Mirror. What is it?”
“A show.”
“And?”
“And we’re watching it while eating dinner.”
“Fine.” He goes back to chopping the onion and to his surprise, Stiles takes out a second knife and starts opening an avocado.
In his internal gloating, he forgets that Stiles and knives are a not a good combination. If this was a film and not real life, this scene would go in slow-motion: Derek puts his knife down to turn to Stiles just as Stiles starts screaming bloody murder because he’s cut himself and dropped not only the avocado but also Derek’s onion and elbowed the cutting board just so. Derek’s knife drops to the floor inches from his foot. A string of profanity ensues. Derek manages to usher Stiles towards the sink where he keeps his smaller first-aid kit specifically for Stiles’ kitchen accidents.
Ten minutes later, Stiles is on the sofa clutching his bandaged hand to himself, hollering requests to Derek and queuing up the show they’ll be watching. Derek sighs and takes out a new onion to chop.
***
Begrudgingly, Derek will admit that Black Mirror is a good show. Begrudgingly because Stiles recommended it and because he has been watching Derek’s reactions more than the show itself. If he thinks Derek loves this, he’ll start pushing to watch old sci-fi films with cardboard boxes and lasers for special effects. So Derek has to be careful with his reactions.
Cora comes back from her date just as Stiles is pressing play on the third episode without checking with Derek. He knows that if Derek didn’t want to watch it, he’d have said it long ago. And this is how Stiles always gets him to binge shows, just silently presses play without even asking.
“What’re you losers up to?” Cora yells slamming the front door shut.
Stiles curses under his breath at her interruption and Derek can’t help but grin at his annoyance. He’s always so serious about his shows, never wanting to miss a single word. And sure enough, he pauses the episode as Cora walks over. “Is that the show from earlier?” she asks Stiles.
“Yup!” he answers getting off the sofa and tossing Derek the remote. “I gotta go pee, I’ve been holding it for half an hour. Be right back!”
“What an idiot,” Cora tells him and Stiles just gives her the finger on his way to the bathroom. She notices the bandage on his right hand and asks, “Did he chop his hand off or something?”
Derek nods, yawning behind his hand. “Trying to open an avocado.”
“Jesus! He’s a walking disaster…”
“How was the date?” he asks as she sits down beside him. She shrugs, silently taking off her shoes. “Bad?” he prods.
“Meh,” she replies.
Derek offers her the nacho tray that’s got a few chips left on it. She accepts it with a smile, picking through the hardened cheese. “How’s yours?”
“How’s my what?” he asks just as Stiles comes hopping back and skids to a stop in front of them. He has a manic look on his face which has always worried Derek. “What?”
“I think we need coffee,” Stiles announces.
“Stil—“
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’ve started to slide down into a sleeping position. I need you awake and alert, Derek. This next episode is my favourite.”
“It’s close to one, Stiles. Maybe we should—“
“If you complete that sentence, I will disown you.”
“You don’t own me,” he mutters - trying and failing not to yawn again.
“That’s it! Get up and go make coffee. Now!”
“I don’t want to…” Cora gives him a sharp look and he’s suddenly aware of how whiny that sounded. He gets up without another word.
“Yes! That’s the spirit. I promise I’ll watch a season of that weird Danish show you like after this.”
“It’s Swedish,” he mumbles to himself. Not that anyone cares. Stiles and Cora are talking about something else already so he puts himself to work making coffee. Some days, he does wonder how he ended up here – being bossed around by an annoying little shit.
He doesn’t think about it too long.
***
They are six episodes in when it starts getting light outside. Cora went to her room around episode four which is what Derek should’ve done. He didn’t and that’s why he’s still on the sofa staring at the tv through tired red eyes.
Stiles’ head is on his shoulder lolling every few seconds but he’s adamantly trying to stay awake. Derek’s had enough when the countdown to episode seven begins. He feels around for the remote but can’t find it. It’s not on the table either.
“Stiles?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sitting on the remote?”
A pause. “No.”
Five seconds till the episode starts. “Get up.”
Stiles is suddenly very alert, sitting up and rolling his shoulders. “No! I’m not sitting on the remote.”
“You are!” Derek points an accusing finger at him and the child that he is, Stiles licks his finger in retaliation. Maybe it’s the weird time between night and day or the six continuous hours of Black Mirror or maybe it’s the fact that he’s suddenly got a wet finger, Derek’s brain stutters and stops working. It just gives up.
The sun is coming up outside, the first orange rays slanting through the windows bathe the room in a zig-zag pattern of light and darkness. Half of Stiles’ face is shadowed and the half that isn’t is glowing. His eyes are alight though sleepy. More amber than Derek’s ever seen them. He just looks and absorbs it all because his brain isn’t doing anything else.
The next episode starts but no one pays it any mind.
***
When he finally rolls out of bed the next day, he finds Cora and Stiles in the kitchen giggling over steaming cups of coffee. They stop when Derek drags himself into the kitchen.
“You look like shit,” Cora tells him sounding ecstatic.
“Thanks for the compliment,” he mutters and hunkers down on the stool next to Stiles. “Really, thanks.”
Stiles snorts beside him, pats him on the back and goes to the coffee machine. Derek watches him pour a new mug and silently thanks all the gods. He puts his head down on his arms folded on the counter and closes his eyes. The sound of a mug being placed in front of him wakes him up a few minutes later. He looks up and thanks Stiles, only for Cora to reach out and try to steal the coffee but Stiles beats her to it.
“Nuh-uh, Cora. This is reserved for my side bitch. My top dog. My dude. Best bro.”
His sister turns to look at him with a truly haunted expression. “What the hell happened to him?”
“I called him tiring,” Derek tells her because that is exactly what happened.
Cora makes a face and gets off the stool to leave. A single word lingering in the air behind her. “Weirdos…”
Derek doesn’t pay it much mind. She’s always going on about how he and Stiles are both nerds and weird nerds at that.
“So….” Stiles whispers a few minutes later and Derek knows exactly where this is going.
They end up watching Black Mirror all afternoon right up till the point that Stiles absolutely has to drive back to Berkley.
***
“Does Stiles have a key to this place?”
Derek starts because he had forgotten she was there. He tries to hide it but the coffee that’s now soaking his shirt gives him away. She bows her head and snickers at him.
“Are you still here?” he grunts only for her to laugh harder. “Seriously, weren’t you leaving for Colombia today?”
“I was but the flight’s delayed till tomorrow. So, you get the pleasure of spending an extra day with me.”
“That’s not the word I would use….” he mutters not really meaning it at all.
“Don’t change the subject, Derek.”
“What subject?” he counters only for her to roll her eyes.
“Stiles? Having a key to this place?”
“So?”
“So, nothing. Just asking. Does he?”
“Yes,” he replies watching her face for any trickle of emotion. Stiles is the only other person to have a key to the loft and Derek wonders if she has a problem with that. He didn’t think so.
“Okay,” she says simply.
Apparently, that’s all she wanted to know.
*****
“Eww! There’s disgusting ice-cream soup at the dining table, Derek. What the hell?” yells a voice from somewhere in the loft.
Seconds later, he opens his eyes to find Cora standing over his bed with a disgusted look on her face. Blatantly ignoring the fact that he is just waking up, she repeats her question and Derek reconsiders letting her live here in between her travels. Rent free.
Sighing, he gets out of bed and marches to the dining table rubbing his eyes because he can’t keep them open otherwise. Cora follows him. The sound of her flip flops hitting the floor annoys him with every step she takes.
Without a word, Derek picks up the bowls and takes them into the kitchen to throw away the molten ice cream. Cora follows him there too. “Is that Reece’s?” she asks sniffing exaggeratedly, watching him empty the bowls. “Why were they out on the table?”
“Can you hold the questions till I’ve made coffee?” he begs in a voice he hardly recognizes.
She sits down at the counter and watches him wrestle with the coffee machine. All the time, her eyes follow him and he tries not to think too much about how Stiles has sat on that very stool so many times and watched him do this with the kind of reverence people usually reserve for deities. His hair is always a mess in the mornings - standing up in all directions - and he communicates solely with grunts and hisses till he’s had some coffee. Then, he starts warming up like a machine and before Derek knows it, he’s being subjected to a long rant about today’s casual acceptance of neo-Nazism.
“Derek?!” Cora yells snapping him out of his thoughts.
He turns to look at her face. Her worried face. She looks like she’s called his name a few times.
“What’s going on, Der?” she asks when he sets the coffee mugs down on the counter.
He sighs. Knows that he’s going to have to tell her eventually. “Stiles…”
“Stiles what?”
He sighs again because he doesn’t fully understand what has happened. He hasn’t had any time to process it. “We were having dinner and he… He was talking about something stupid and that somehow turned into him---well, turned into some sort of a confession. And I panicked and blew it off as a joke. He seemed fine with it but when I went to get ice cream, he left without saying anything.”
She considers it for a few moments and then asks, “What did he confess?”
Here, Derek has to take a deep breath because he can’t wrap his head around it. Even now, in the morning when everything is supposed to make sense, it doesn’t compute.
Cora’s watching him with a very still face so he just blurts it out. “He said he’d thought about kissing me.”
What follows is a comical series of expressions flashing across his sister’s face. Well, it would be comical at any other time. Right now, it’s just a head ache waiting to happen. Cora opens and closes her mouth a few times before she finds her words. “And why would that make you panic?”
It’s his turn to impersonate a fish. A quickly panicking fish. “Why wouldn’t it?” he manages to grind out through the jaw that’s locked itself.
“Because it’s natural for the person you’re dating to think about kissing you,” she says like she’s talking to a child.
It feels like his soul is leaving his body. He doesn’t know how else to describe this sensation. This sudden numbness that’s taken over every part of him. “W-what?” he thinks he says. Can’t be sure.
“What the fuck, Derek? What part of that are you struggling with?” Cora screams in his face. She looks as lost as Derek feels.
“I don’t—what? You think Stiles and I—” He has to remind himself to breathe. “You think we’re dating?”
Cora’s face completely drains of colour. She reaches out and touches his arm. “Derek, are you okay? Did you hit your head or something? Is this amnesia?”
He’s too scared to ask her why she would think that. Instead, he braces himself and says, in a somewhat steady voice, “We’re not dating.”
The way her face changes confirms his suspicions. “What do you mean you’re not dating Stiles? Of course, you are!”
“I think I’d notice,” he breathes out.
Cora decides to pace the short length of the kitchen. Pace and point out things that Derek has never considered in this light. “He spends more time here than he does with his dad and his friends combined. And when he’s at college, you’re glued to your phone 24/7. You’ve been buying cereal for him for years! Like, you actually buy groceries for him. Things he eats, and you don’t. He’s on your Netflix account! What part of that constitutes not dating?”
Here’s the thing - Derek has always secretly liked rom-coms. Not for the romance or the confession but the angst and the near-misses. But one thing he’s never understood is how people could be so oblivious. He’s always felt like shouting at the screen when the lead suddenly realizes he or she is in love with their best friend or their boss.
This, he thinks with a humorless laugh, is what that moment of revelation must feel like. The epiphany.
“…everyone thinks you’re dating! The Sheriff, Scott, me – fucking One-eyed-Earl thinks you two are shacked up! How did you not notice?” Here, she pauses for a moment, her eyes widening dangerously. “Derek, why the fuck did you think people always ask you about Stiles?”
Because we’re friends, he thinks. What a fucking idiot!
“You really are the stupidest smart person I know!”
“Cora, I have to go…”
“Yes, dumbass! Wait, you’re going to Stiles, right? Because if this is you running away to pine somewhere—”
“I’m going to Stiles’.”
“Yes! Fucking yes! Come on, let’s go. I’ll drive.”
“Okay, yeah. Yes.”
“Fuck yes! I’m going to deliver you to Stiles like Richard Gere at the end of Pretty Woman.”
“Cora?”
“Yeah?”
“Just drive.”
***
Sheriff Stilinski must be at the station because no one answered the door at Stiles’. Cora’s breaking at least three traffic laws as she skids to a stop in front of the sheriff’s station. Not really bothered about it, Derek jumps out and runs into the building before the car’s even fully stopped.
It’s a very short conversation.
***
“He’s at the airport! He’s at the fucking airport! Can you believe it? We’re actually going to the airport to get you a boyfriend!”
“Can you please just drive? I’m already regretting this.” He slides further down his seat, sweaty hands leaving marks on his joggers. Cora had opened her window just as they left the Sheriff’s station, not very discreetly.
“Don’t make me stop this car and punch you in the face, Derek.”
“Cora, please!”
“You’re the pining idiot who’s chased lover boy out of town! You don’t get to yell at me, buddy.”
“Why did I say anything to you…” he mutters massaging his suddenly throbbing head.
“Be glad you did. Or you’d still be moping about eating yucky ice cream soup,” she says overtaking a Hummer. The two boys in the Hummer look at them with bulging eyes as the Camaro passes them. Yes, Derek is very aware of how fast his sister is driving; he’s just preoccupied with more important things right now. “I’m very grateful. Thank you. But can we please drive in silence?”
“Aww! Are you nervous about your love confession at the airport? You big fucking softie!”
***
The thing is Stiles loves rom-coms too. Derek’s seen them on his watchlist before Stiles deletes them. Derek has also seen how engrossed Stiles gets when there’s a 90s rom-com playing on the tv and how quickly he changes the channel when someone walks by.
Not that any of this is relevant.
***
Cora somehow manages to get them to the airport in one piece. The Camaro will probably need new tires given how much rubber she’s burnt but at least, they didn’t hit anyone.
Maybe he spoke too soon. Someone steps in front of the car right then and Cora swerves dangerously into the loading lane but manages to miss them. She then proceeds to half hang out of the window to yell at the poor lady. “Fucking move!”
Derek would say something if he could manage any words right now. His tongue is too dry in his mouth, hands shaking with nervousness. And he almost breaks his face on the dashboard when Cora brakes without warning. “You go in, I’ll park and come find you!”
“But—”
“Fucking go, Derek! You don’t want to miss him!”
And that’s incentive enough. He kisses his sister on the cheek for some reason, like he’s going to war, before jumping out and running to the door. He has no clue where to look for Stiles. As always, the airport is crawling with travelers, but he has dropped Cora off here enough times that he knows where the departure gates are, so he makes a run for it.
Within a minute, he realizes he isn’t dressed for this. He’s sliped twice, nearly kissing the ground. So, he slows to a jog and scans the crowd for that familiar disheveled hair. It’s fairly easy in the end. He spots Stiles outside a souvenir shop looking at fridge magnets. As frightening as the next step is, seeing him breathes new life into Derek. Just seeing him. Derek can’t help but stop for a second and look. Take him in as he laughs at one of the fridge magnets, takes out his phone and takes a photo of it. Derek wonders if Stiles will send it to him. He hopes so.
Taking a few steps closer, Derek calls out his name.
Stiles looks up in surprise, eyes finding Derek right away. He puts his phone in his pocket and takes a single step forward. Then stops. Fiddles with his shirt. Time slows down.
Stiles is staring at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open like he can’t believe his eyes. Derek closes the distance in quick steps and before his brain even processes it, his hand is fisting in Stiles’ shirt and pulling him close. And Derek leans in, keeping his eyes on Stiles’, waiting and watching, and kisses him when Stiles stays frozen. It’s just a kiss, just a slight brush of his mouth against Stiles’ and it’s everything at the same time. His hands move on their own, wrap around the back of Stiles’ neck and up into his hair. His wild fucking hair that’s so soft Derek never wants to stop running his fingers through it.
He needs air. He needs to breathe so he pulls back. The bare minimum. He can feel Stiles’ breath on his cheek. His hands have moved down Stiles’ back, holding him close. He takes a deep breath and looks into Stiles’ eyes and finds them staring back at him.
“Derek…” he whispers, breath warm on Derek’s chin.
Derek can’t stand it. Can’t stand Stiles looking at him like that, with awe on his face. With heat in his eyes. His hands land on Derek’s arms, sliding down slowly. Warm hands move on his skin, fingers twining with his. One hand under his chin forcing him to look up and meet Stiles’ eyes.
“Are you blushing right now?” Stiles whispers making Derek look away again. He tries to turn away, but Stiles cups his cheek and holds him there. “You are!” he insists sounding surprised and delighted all at once. “Oh my god, you’re blushing under your beard!”
“Stop,” he utters putting all his mental power into not combusting.
Stiles doesn’t stop. His hand moves from Derek’s cheek to the back of his neck and pulls him close till Derek can feel wet lips on his ear. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
There’s a funny feeling, a buzz under his skin. A shiver down his spine. He can’t help the choked breath that punches out of him. Stiles’ chest against his moves like he’s laughing but Derek can’t bring himself to look. His face is already burning.
Stiles kisses him this time. An eager mouth against his, pushing and licking, warm and wet, insistent. A roar of applause reaches Derek’s ears over the sound of blood rushing through his veins. He startles, pulls back. Looks around to find a crowd watching them and cheering. His ears burn even more. He spots Cora clapping like she’s just seen the best movie of her life. Stiles laughs and takes a bow and Derek just wants to run away from here, away from all these eyes, but Stiles is holding his hand and he won’t let go.
“Stiles,” he pleads.
“You’re the one who came after me to the airport, dude!” he replies as if it’s all Derek’s fault. Like he wanted this to be a public declaration of love or something.
“I just—can we go home?”
“Home… oh fuck! I totally forgot! The flight was supposed to leave in half an hour—”
“Flight?” Derek chokes out. Dread’s already seeping into his stomach – cold hard dread. “You’re still leaving?”
“What? I’m not leaving! I just came to drop off—wait, did you rush to the airport because you thought I was leaving? ‘cuz of the thing yesterday?”
“I…”
“Oh my god, you totally did! You came here to stop me!”
“Will you stop yelling?”
“You came to the airport for me like a 90s rom-com hero! Oh god, I think I love you even more which I didn’t think was possible but here we are anyway….” He trails off when he realizes Derek is staring at him. It takes him a few seconds to clue in and when he does, his hands fly to cover his mouth. Derek looks down at his suddenly empty hand and back up at Stiles. “Fuck!” Stiles says eloquently.
As he sees it, Derek only has one choice here. “I think I love you.”
Stiles is on him in a moment. It’s the warmest embrace of Derek’s life bar that time his mum hugged him on graduation day. Suddenly, he feels weak in the knees. Has to hold onto Stiles to stay up. And Stiles takes his weight without question.
“Alright, that’s enough, losers!” Cora yells ruining the moment as is her god given right. “Any more and people will start to think you have an exhibition kink or something.”
Derek can’t take much more public embarrassment, so he moves a respectable distance away from Stiles and glares at his sister as they start walking toward the exit. Oh god, his little sister who just witnessed all of that. Here comes the second wave of embarrassment.
“Derek!” Stiles suddenly screams making him jump. He turns to Stiles and finds him stopped a few steps behind. “Why are you wearing flip flops?”
“Because he just woke up,” Cora answers for him without even stopping.
“You just woke up and came to the airport to stop me? This day keeps better and better!”
“Can we please go?”
“We can but don’t think I’m done with this yet. I will need a minute-by-minute account of your day to know exactly how you ended up here.”
To say that Derek is starting to regret this would be accurate. But then Stiles’ hand lands on the small of his back as they walk to the parking and Derek regrets it a little less.
***
“Oh fucking fuck! Motherfucker---”
“Stilinski, I’m driving! Can you not start cursing like that? I almost hit someone, you idiot!”
“Shit, fuck! Cora!”
“What?!”
“I forgot about the people I came to drop off at the airport. Your fucking brother made me forget why I was there in the first place!”
“I’m not turning back, Stiles.”
“My dad’s gonna kill me.”
“I’m sure your boyfriend will protect you!”
“I’d rather not get involved…”
“Is that your love, Derek? First sign of trouble and you abandon me. You don’t love me! You just want hot sex with my body. That’s all you’re interested in – sexy, wild sex!”
Cora turns up the music and for once, Derek is grateful to hear Bono’s voice.
***
Cora pushes the coffee pot towards him without a word. It’s past noon. Stiles has had the best night of his life. The sun is bright, and birds are singing and everything is beautiful. When he tries to share this newfound knowledge, Cora tells him to fuck off.
“Your brother blushes like a maiden—”
“Stiles!”
“—all over. He’s so fucking cute! The cuteness is killing me, Cora! Even his little nipples--”
“STILES!”
“He’s adorable. I keep saying dirty things just to see him blush. I told him I want to lick his—”
“Derek! Get your fucking boyfriend out of here if you don’t want me to backslap him!”
“You wouldn’t,” he tells Cora a lot more confidently than he feels.
Thankfully, it’s not put to the test because a very sleepy Derek appears, rubbing his eyes and scratching his head, and wraps himself around Stiles. The warmth that Stiles is very quickly starting to associate with Derek envelopes him as Derek nestles closer. “Ah-ah, don’t spill my coffee,” he tells the Derek blanket on his back.
Derek sleepily mumbles something against his neck which almost brings him to his knees. He manages, with great effort, to turn around. Derek is all muscle and he apparently doesn’t remember how heavy he is when he’s sleepy which is why he’s nearly crushing Stiles right now. But if he had to choose his death, he’ll always chose being crushed by Derek.
“Good morning,” he says unable to keep a sappy smile off his face. He hears Cora gagging in the background.
Derek mumbles something that could be morning but probably isn’t. Ah yes, Stiles remembers. “Coffee?” he asks. Derek nods but makes no move to get it or to let Stiles get it for him. “You’re gonna have to let me go, my guy. Can’t mind control utensils. Yet.”
Derek loosens his grip just enough so Stiles can reach for his discarded coffee mug and hand it to Derek. Half a cup of coffee later, Derek returns to Earth. How Stiles knows this is because Derek peels himself off him and sits down at the counter with very red ears. Honestly, he never knew Derek blushes like that and now that he does, he fully intends to make it happen as much as he can.
“By the way, I’m stealing your coffee machine.”
“Hmm?” Derek hums.
“Your coffee machine. It’s mine now. Think of it as dowry.”
***
Two days later, Derek texts him.
From Derek 3:21 PM
Am I the bride in this scenario? Since you are getting the dowry…
From Stiles 3:21 PM
Love you xx
***