Derek Hale is having a perfectly normal morning.
Which is to say: the coffee tastes burnt, the fridge is making a noise that sounds ominously sentient, and Peter is sitting at the kitchen island wearing Derekβs hoodie like he owns it.
Cora is there too, perched on the counter, swinging her legs and scrolling through her phone.
Which is, Derek realizes belatedly, probably the problem.
Not the usual Stiles pacing, either. This is aggressive pacing. Arms flailing, words spilling out faster than Derek can track, socked feet slapping against the loft floor like heβs trying to wear a groove into it.
βIβm just saying,β Stiles says, gesturing wildly at absolutely nothing, βif youβre going to ignore your phone for twelve hours, maybe you could consider the fact that I might assume youβre dead? Or kidnapped? Or dead and kidnapped?β
βI was at the shop,β Derek says, evenly. Calmly. Patiently. Like a man who has had this argument before. βMy phone died.β
Stiles spins on him. βPhones donβt just die, Derek. They give warnings. They blink. They vibrate. They cry out for help.β
Peter hums into his mug. βThat last one might be projection.β
Derek shoots Peter a look. βWhy are you still here?β
Peter smiles sweetly. βYour hospitality is unmatched.β
βGet your own coffee.β
βI did.β Peter taps the mug. βFrom your cabinet.β
Stiles throws his hands up. βSee? This is what Iβm talking about. Zero boundaries. No communication. Absolute emotional negligence.β
Derek frowns. βWhy are you this upset?"
βWell maybe,β Stiles says, voice rising just a little, βbecause when you disappear without telling me, my brain immediately decides youβve run off on some reckless alpha martyr mission and I donβt find out until Iβm identifying a body and-β
βI left you a note,β Derek says.
βYou left me a Post-it that said βBack later.ββ
Cora leans toward Peter. βIs this-β
Derek rubs his temples. βStiles. I was gone half a day.β
βHalf a day is six hours too long when you have a habit of almost dying,β Stiles snaps. βSorry that I care about you.β
The silence lands like a dropped plate.
Peter slowly lowers his mug.
Stiles swallows, eyes wide, and then - because this is Stiles Stilinski and there is no off switch - he barrels straight through it.
βI mean obviously I care,β Stiles says quickly. Too quickly. βBecause youβre, you knowβ¦you. And youβre important. And if something happened to you it would be bad. For me. Emotionally. Like, devastatingly bad. World-ending bad. Canβt-breathe bad. Which is normal. For friends. Best friends. Orβ¦whatever we are.β
Derekβs brain has left the building.
Peterβs eyebrows are somewhere near his hairline.
Cora looks between them. βWait,β she says slowly. βYouβre not together?β
Stiles laughs. A little hysterically. βWhat? No. Why would we-β
Peter cuts in, delighted. βOh, sweetheart.β
Derek croaks, βWhat?β
Cora hops off the counter. βWe thought you were dating.β
Stiles stares at her. βIβm sorry, what?β
Peter gestures vaguely between Derek and Stiles. βThe domesticity. The way you argue like an old married couple. The fact that Stiles sleeps here more than at his fatherβs house.β
βI sleep on the couch!β Stiles protests.
βWith his hoodie as a pillow,β Peter says. βAnd his scent soaked into it.β
Derekβs ears are burning.
Cora shrugs. βAlso you pack his lunch.β
βI pack everyoneβs lunch!β
βYou cut the crusts off his sandwiches.β
Stilesβ mouth opens. Closes. βHe doesnβt like crusts.β
Derek mutters, βTheyβre unnecessary.β
Peter beams. βSee? Courtship.β
Stiles turns slowly toward Derek. βDid you think that we were dating too?β
Derek finally finds his voice. βIβ¦no. wellβ¦I didnβt-β
βYou didnβt think to mention that?β Stiles demands.
Derek looks miserable. βI thought you knew.β
βThat I-β Derek stops. Breathes. Tries again. βThat I like you.β
Stilesβ face goes completely blank.
Peter hums. βThere it is.β
Cora grins. βTold you.β
Stilesβ laugh this time is soft. Disbelieving. βYou - wait - you like me?β
Derek nods once. Then, because apparently today is the day of honesty, adds, βA lot.β
Stiles sways slightly. βCool. Cool cool cool. Because I-β He gestures vaguely at himself. βI may have just accidentally confessed my undying devotion in front of your entire family.β
Peter raises his mug. βWeβre touched.β
Cora claps. βThis is better than TV.β
Stiles looks at Derek, eyes bright and a little watery. βI like you too. A lot. Likeβ¦ridiculously. I just didnβt think-β
Derek steps closer. Careful. Like Stiles might spook.
βI was going to ask you out,β Derek says. βEventually.β
βEventually,β Stiles echoes. βWe live together.β
βI wanted to do it right.β
Stiles smiles. Soft and fond and completely undone. βYou are doing it right.β
Peter clears his throat loudly. βSo. Are we interrupting or-β
βYes,β Derek and Stiles say in unison.
Cora laughs and heads for the door, grabbing Peter by the arm. βCome on. Let them figure it out.β
Peter allows himself to be dragged, calling over his shoulder, βUse protection! And labels!β
Then Stiles exhales a laugh. βWell. That was a thing.β
Derek nods. βWe should talk."
Stiles steps forward and presses a quick, awkward kiss to Derekβs mouth.
Derek smiles back, slow and warm and absolutely certain. βHi.β
And somewhere downstairs, Peter Hale smiles smugly, because honestly, it was about time.