Chapter Text
They didn’t get together. Not after Monroe and graduation. Not after Derek sacrificed part of himself and became human so Stiles can go on living as a turned wolf. Not even after Derek became Stiles’ first beta.
But everyone knew.
There was something between them. Something unaddressed, something quiet. Something waiting and full of promise.
They didn’t get together, no. Not for so long. Not after so much. But everyone, even the two of them, they all knew.
It was only a matter of time.
-----
Stiles watched Derek as he sat on the kitchen counter by the window, the sunset bathed him in a warm, golden glow. They were in the kitchen of the rebuilt Hale house entertaining guests.
It was a pack from Nevada looking for an alliance. Talk of the legendary new Hale pack led by two alphas — the first True Alpha in centuries and the scarred alpha with a spark — had reached farther and wider than any of them could ever have anticipated. More and more supernatural creatures were making the pilgrimage to Beacon Hills to safeguard Stiles and Scott’s protection and favor.
This particular pack had been in town since the early morning. Negotiations had thankfully come to an end.
Stiles and Scott had more or less come to an agreement with the visiting alpha — a tall, impassive woman named Johanna with an impressive build and graying hair — that they will provide each other aid in time of need, and stay out of each other’s business as much as possible.
The rest of their packs had dispersed, scattered across the open-plan concept first floor of the house, mingling and making polite talk.
They won’t be throwing barbecue parties together anytime soon, even Scott could see that. But there was respect among them, and most of the visiting pack’s members found something in common with most of theirs.
There was one wolf though that caught Stiles’ wary eye.
Jared. A giant of a man with muscles that had him towering over Stiles and Scott’s leaner physique. He was outspoken, abrasive, and self-important. He tried to anoint himself as Johanna’s spokesperson during the negotiations and made a point of interrupting Stiles and Scott at every turn, trying to get more out of the deal for his pack than what was necessary or fair.
Stiles could smell his shits for brains from a mile away, and based on the cautionary and annoyed looks Johanna was throwing at Jared even at that moment, he’d say she was getting a whiff of the stench, too.
But none of that was what made Stiles single the beta out. There will always be that one ambitious wolf who liked to bite more than they can chew. Stiles got that, he can easily ignore that and sweep it under the rug.
No, it wasn’t the trademark dudebro arrogance that made Stiles stalk Jared’s every move with watchful eyes. It was the way he looked at Derek.
Derek had...grown soft since becoming human. That’s not to say he had gotten weak, no. After becoming human, they quickly learned that Derek’s talent laid more with guns than it ever did with fangs and claws.
No, Derek and weakness were two things that will never coincide. It was just that, well, Derek started letting himself relax more.
He no longer fought to have the final say during pack meetings or alliance talks, no longer tried to put up a front of cold-hearted grit, of knowing all. He finally shed the mantle of being responsible for everything and everyone, and let himself enjoy the softer things in life.
Like sitting in the gentle heat of the sunset while listening to his pack get another small win at establishing peace in the supernatural world.
The point was, Derek had changed since becoming human, something about him mellowing out, growing gentler. And Jared, Jared eyed Derek as if that newfound gentleness was an opportunity and an invitation.
Stiles didn’t like it.
-----
Wolves like Jared, Stiles knew what they saw in Derek — a purebred wolf, blessed with a distinguished family name in the supernatural community, wealthy, strong. A traitor and a moron, for throwing away his wolf and the full shift for a human. A chance, to better their status in the werewolf community, to prove their worth. A challenge.
And while Stiles knew that Derek was no damsel in distress, he’d be damned if he let anyone come close to hurting him again. Not just because he was Derek’s alpha or because he owed Derek his life.
Stiles was just...protective when it came to his sourwolf.
Catching Jared walking towards Derek as the latter sat contentedly on the sidelines, Stiles’ protectiveness flared up, his wolf frantically telling him to do something. So Stiles marched towards Derek, deliberately blocking him from the beta’s line of sight.
Jared stopped dead in his tracks.
“Hey, big guy,” Stiles greeted, catching Derek’s attention, “Why’re you sitting here all by your lonesome, I thought we were working on making friends?”
Derek scoffed. “You want me to talk to them? I thought you wanted this pack’s alliance.”
Stiles smiled at that. “Oh c’mon. We both know half of them are hoping to win your hand in marriage,” he teased, nudging Derek with an elbow. “I think you actually made Johanna blush for the first time in her life.”
Derek ducked his head down and chuckled.
Stiles took the opportunity to flash red alpha eyes at Jared, who was still watching them.
You even think about it, you spineless dog turd, Stiles tried to communicate telepathically, You even think about hurting him, I will maim you until you beg me to kill you.
Jared glared right back and, for a second, Stiles thought the beta would actually be stupid enough to challenge him. Stiles would just love to indulge him. But then Johanna popped into view and started pushing Jared away from Stiles and Derek.
Jared tried to resist. The alpha whispered something in her beta’s ear, Jared turned pale and promptly hightailed it to the other direction.
Johanna turned back to Stiles, who gave her a small nod of gratitude.
When Stiles turned back to Derek, Derek was watching him with knowing hazel eyes.
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”
“I know,” Stiles conceded, “I just—”
“You’re the alpha now and I’m the fragile human,” Derek filled in, eyes tracing the scar running down Stiles left cheek, over the left-hand corner of his lips, until a little under his mouth. “How the turntables,” he tried to joke.
Stiles bumped their shoulders together in comfort. Whether he was doing it for Derek or to soothe his own guilt, he wasn’t sure. “Nah. It’s because you’re the pack’s old man. We worry about you, grandpa.”
Derek looked away from the scar and turned his gaze to that mischievous grin he fell in love with ages ago. It always made his sacrifice worth it all over again. Didn’t stop him from pushing Stiles until the alpha was flailing off the counter though.
Stiles let him.
-----
It took three months for them to receive word about Jared’s expulsion from Johanna’s pack.
Two weeks of nothing. Of Stiles and Scott keeping vigilant, always an ear out for news of a feral omega rampaging towards Beacon hills. Of the pack being on high alert, always guarding Derek, mothering him to his wit’s end. (Under Stiles’ orders, of course, and Scott’s allowance).
And then one day, Derek somehow managed to sweet-talk Kira into letting him go up the roof alone.
He appreciated everyone’s concern, he told her. "I really do. But having everyone around me all the time, it’s suffocating."
When that didn’t work, he played dirty and pulled the human card.
"I know everyone means well. That you’re all just doing this because I’m human now and weak."
But it’s just the roof, he reasoned, already seeing her resolve waver. He just needed a minute alone. To breathe. He wasn’t even leaving the building. He was sure Kira would hear or smell if that douchebag omega tried to come for him.
Kira, bless her heart, she caved. Because she was a sweetheart like that. And because Derek was her favorite.
Derek was barely five minutes out on the rooftop before someone grabbed him from behind, a hand covering his mouth with a funny smelling napkin.
He had a brief second to feel guilty for manipulating Kira, certain that his best friend would blame herself for this, and then—
-----
It turned out Jared wasn’t just all bark, all bite, and no brain. He also didn’t possess the ability to pick his fights carefully. Wisely. Because the asshole took Derek.
Stiles looked at Scott, and Scott simply nodded at him.
-----
Shits for brains, Derek remembered, that’s what Stiles called him.
He strained to look up at the barely-familiar wolf with his left eye, his right eye swollen shut hours ago along with one of his knees after Jared got a little too handsy when Derek first tried talking some sense into him. He didn’t know why the guy got so turnt, he was just laying out some truths.
Derek scoffed at himself. Turnt, truths — God, the pack was right. He was spending too much time with Stiles.
Stiles who had been in this position, literally and figuratively, probably a million times before him.
Arms wound around the back of a very uncomfortable chair, hands tied behind his back, body aching after a proper beating from some bad guy who was really just an asshole with plenty of unresolved self-esteem issues.
This feral omega, this wannabe-alpha. What an entitled prick, Derek thought. And he said as much.
Jared tried to threaten him, to scare him into— what did this guy even expect, really? That he would scare Derek into falling in love with him? Submitting to him?
He had faced kanimas before, storm riders, dread doctors, Kate. He’d looked at Death come to take Stiles away from him and promptly told it to fuck the hell back to wherever it came from. And Death listened.
What was this guy thinking?
The 'wolf turned around with a glowing iron rod. Apparently he was thinking of branding him.
-----
Stiles heard Derek screaming and he knew. This Jared, this Mr. Shits For Brains was not going to make it out of that warehouse alive or in one recognizable piece.
-----
Derek blinked against the bright white light and knew he wasn’t dead. He blinked again, and yep, he can only see with one eye.
There was something white, scratchy, and irritating covering his right eye. He went to touch it, but when he tried to lift his arm, he could barely move his fingers.
He felt so weak, why did he feel so weak?
He kept trying to move his arm, until he felt another set of fingers carefully wrap around his, a calloused thumb stroking circles in his palm.
“Easy, Der.”
Derek turned his head or tried to, but apparently, there was a brace around his neck. No choice, he settled for looking to the left with his one functioning eye. “Stiles...where...”
Where am I, what happened?
“We’re in Beacon Hills,” Stiles informed him. “You’re in the hospital.”
Had been for a while going by the unkempt look Stiles was sporting — unruly, greasy hair, circles under his eyes, wrinkled shirt, and is that...dried blood on his collar?
He’s been biting his lips, too.
“That omega’s gone,” Stiles continued. “The doctors said you’re gonna be here for a couple of days but there’s no permanent damage.”
He wasn’t looking at him. Stiles was holding his hand, but he was refusing to look at him. “Your eye is gonna heal, so will your leg. You’ll feel weak for a bit because you’ve been unconscious for four days, but you should get your strength back soon.”
“Stiles.”
“The doctor’s prescribing physical therapy for your shoulder and your knee. Don’t worry, the pack’s already working out our schedules so we can go with you. Melissa also promised to stay with you the whole time.”
“Stiles.”
“Oh, everyone’s fine. And Johanna’s pack, there’s no conflict there. She’s just bummed she couldn’t get to that shithead before I—,” Stiles cut himself off and cleared his throat, “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I did to him. But he’s gone, Derek. And he’s never coming back, not even Peter-style, I made sure of it. And he’ll be a warning to anyone who would ever try, who would even think they could take you, and use you, and hu—”
Derek used all the strength he had to pull his hand out from Stiles’ and lift it up to lay on Stiles’ cheek, his fingers careful as they rested on the scar just below Stiles’ lips.
“Hey.” Those amber eyes finally settled on him. “You found me.” Derek quirked his lips in what he hoped looked like a smile.
“I took so long.” Stiles bit out, clenching his jaw. His lips turned down in an upset frown. “I’m sorry.”
“Shut up. You found me, that’s all that matters.”
“But—” Stiles cut himself off again, eyes unsubtly glancing at Derek’s chest and flashing alpha red for a split-second.
Ah, so he passed out when that alpha-wannabe...an exhausted part of him, the one buried deep, deep inside, the part that survived Kate and Jennifer gave a very tired sigh. The asshole branded him.
Stiles’ frown deepened. “They said it’ll scar.”
This time Derek sighed outwardly.
Bummer, but still, “It doesn’t matter.”
Stiles gave him a look that said ‘yeah, right’. Derek threw a bitchface right back. For a solid minute, they stared each other down, until Stiles eventually caved in and scoffed out a laugh.
Fine. If Derek can still bitch at him with nothing but his eyebrows, then obviously they would be just fine.
Stiles looked up at him again, this time the guilt in his eyes replaced by a softness that just told Derek he was about to say or do something stupid.
“Derek...you have to know, I...I lo—”
There it is, the stupid.
Derek shushed his alpha resting his fingers on those lips, “Stop.” Then he reached for Stiles’ hand, Stiles giving it to him obligingly.
“Not like this. We’re not doing it like this.” Filled with desperation and regret. With him in a hospital bed, hurting all over, barely recovered, and marked. Christ.
Stiles carefully threaded their fingers together, smiling fondly at his sourwolf.
“Okay, so how are we doing this?”
“Well,” Derek pulled at their hands folded together and rested it on his chest, over the mark because fuck the asshole who left it there, “First you’re going to take me out on a date. Somewhere with ambiance and good food.”
Stiles chuckled, “Alright, the diner it is.”
“And then we’ll second-guess a little more, just to keep the pack on their toes.”
They grinned at each other. “Gotta stay on-brand, I agree.”
“Then, after a few days, you’ll finally push me up against a wall, carry me to your bedroom with your stupid Deadpool sheets, and fuck me the way that I fucking deserve.”
Stiles snorted at that and saluted, “Yes, sir.”
Derek smiled at the sight of him and gave their hands still folded together a quick kiss. Stiles’ gaze turned soft once more.
“Then we finally say it?” asked the alpha.
“Yeah, we finally say it.”
-----
They didn’t.
Despite what they agreed on that day in the hospital room, neither Derek nor Stiles confessed to each other after Derek got out of the hospital.
There was the plan for a date, yes. But first, there were check-ups and worried packmates. There was physical therapy and Stiles taking an exhausted and frustrated Derek home. Then there was bad news about Derek’s knee and online surfing for temporary walking canes.
There were so many things, so many distractions. The two of them kept finding themselves looking at each other, always with that understanding and that promise of almost.
And then–