When Derek left Beacon Hills, he’d done it quickly and quietly. He took his car, his sister, and left. It was for a number of reasons, but the biggest was that he just needed to get away. After Jennifer and the business with the Alpha Pack, he needed to be somewhere else for a while. It wasn’t until spring that he returned, and he didn’t bring Cora back with him. She’d only managed to hang around for a month or two before she disappeared. She left a note, something akin to not being able to handle the brooding, bad attitude any longer, but she didn’t say where she’d gone. He’d get a text every few weeks to know she was alive, and that was it. And he could only be alone for so long, so he found himself back in Beacon Hills. He hadn’t even been sure that’s where he was going when he got in the car, but it’s where he ended up.
Isaac was still staying in the loft, but didn’t seem fazed when Derek walked back in. Nor did he take offense to the grunted replies to his questions. The man wasn’t even home for a day before the word had spread and they were trying to include him in pack activities. Like watching movies in the main room. It was the whole pack, wolf, human, and banshee all squished together on couches, and he wanted no part of it. He did notice, though, that there was one person missing, and stood off to the side for a couple minutes, trying to figure out if maybe he was just missing him, but no, not even a scent in the air.
“Where’s Stiles?” he asked, finally. Nobody answered, just shrugged, not really paying attention to what he was saying, which he found really frustrating, but he wasn’t the alpha anymore. He was just another beta, or possibly omega. That was still up in the air.
“He said he was busy,” said Lydia, finally, unwrapping herself from Aiden so she could sit up to look at him.
“Too busy to be part of pack activities?” Derek asked, and the girl shrugged. That wasn’t like Stiles at all. Mr. I-absolutely-need-to-be-in-everything-werewolf-related-even-though-I-might-get-killed never missed pack activities. There was something up, and, determined to find out what it was, he grabbed his jacket and left the loft. He parked the Camaro a few streets away from the Stilinski house and walked the rest of the way. The jeep was in the driveway, but the cruiser wasn’t, so he climbed up onto the room and perched at Stiles’ window. He could see the lock had been flipped, which was also weird, his window was never locked. Derek knocked and he could see the teen jump, turning to look at him with wide eyes that quickly narrowed when he realized who it was. Then, he had the audacity to turn back to his desk. He knocked again and this time he didn’t even get a glare, though Stiles’ shoulders did tense.
“Don’t think I won’t break this window, Stilinski,” he growled loud enough to be heard through the glass. That got a reaction, and something, it looked like a textbook, hit the ground. The teen stomped to the window, unlocked it and threw it open.
“What do you want?” Stiles snarled and Derek didn’t know how to react. Snarly was not a word usually used to describe the gangly human.
“What are you doing? There are too many teenagers in my loft as it is, but you’re still supposed to be there.”
“I’m busy.” And he went back to his desk, leaving the wolf to climb through the window.
“Busy doing what?” Derek asked, coming up to stand behind him. There was a lot of notebook paper with the teen’s chicken scratch all over it.
“Gross.” He dropped down onto the bed, examining his nails as he did so. He was biting at an errant hangnail when Stiles turned to look at him.
“Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Derek, now if you’ll let yourself out the same way you barged in, that’d be great. I have to do this homework whether you think it’s gross or not.”
“Wow, what crawled up your butt and died, Stilinski?”
“Derek, I need you to get out before I find some wolfsbane and shove it down your fucking throat.” The words spewing out of the teenager’s lips were so uncharacteristically angry, and Derek didn’t really know how to respond to it. He sat, glares being exchanged between them for a minute.
“Jeeze,” he said finally, getting up to go out the window, “and I thought I was the Sourwolf here. But, you haven’t seen the last of me, Stilinksi. In the meantime, try to remove whatever foreign object is lodged up your asshole.” He wasn’t even off the roof before the window was slammed shut and locked. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
When Derek got back to the loft, he went straight up the stairs, out of the main room, away from the teenagers to think. He waited until he could hear the movie finish and people leaving before he went back down, hoping to catch Scott. Danny and Ethan were just on their way out and the alpha was pulling on his coat, still in conversation with Isaac.
“What’s wrong with Stiles?” he asked before he was even all the way down the stairs. Scott turned to look at him.
“Uh, he’s been really busy?” the teen said with a shrug.
“No, that’s not it. His window was locked. His window is never locked. And he snarled at me, threatened to shove wolfsbane down my throat.”
“Well, it’s not the first time he’s threatened you, or any of us, to be honest, with wolfsbane.”
“Yeah, but he’s never really meant it before.” Derek dropped down onto the couch, leaning back with a sigh.
“I don’t know what to tell you, man. But, I guess I’ll go talk to him. Why do you even care so much?” Scott asked as he zipped his coat up and shoved his hands in his pockets. And again, the man didn’t know how to respond. Because he wasn’t sure why he cared. Maybe because of the pack. A pack had to be a unit and work together as one being. Not that he was currently part of the pack, or was he? But there was something else, too. Some sort of emotion he wasn’t willing to talk about. Not yet. Something that made him uncomfortable in knowing something was wrong with Stiles.
“I just don’t like to be snarled at, or threatened is all,” he replied, conversation over. Scott left; Isaac stayed. They played the Xbox and Derek kicked the teen’s ass at Call of Duty every time.
The next time Derek saw Stiles, he was at the grocery store. He had his basket full of important things like meat, bread, chips, beer, and Oreos. The teen had a basket full of healthy shit. Sheriff Stilinski was definitely not someone to envy in the food department. Derek hoped that he got really greasy hamburgers and fries when he worked late. Sometimes a guy just needed those kinds of things.
“You seem to be lacking some essentials there, Stilinski,” he said, “Meat, bread, other real food, not just that rabbit shit. Aren’t you like… seventeen? Did you know you shop like an old man?”
“Oh piss off, Hale,” came the reply. Derek’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side. He was still angry. It’d been nearly a week. Where was this anger coming from? This wasn’t the normal smiling, bubbly Stiles he was used to, and he didn’t like it at all. In fact, it made him uncomfortable, but he had to push past that.
“I see you haven’t gotten that rectal foreign object removal procedure I suggested the last time I saw you. You should look into that.”
“Just do me a favor and go fuck yourself, Derek. You seem way too preoccupied with my ass, maybe it’ll help.” The teen stomped off and Derek opted not to follow, figuring he’d already done enough damage for one day.
He gave it another week before he went back to the Stilinski house, and he went at night. The window was closed and locked, and Stiles had his head down on his desk. At first, it looked like he was sleeping, but when he looked closely, the wolf could see that he was shaking. He was crying. Alone. He was crying alone in his room, and Derek just wanted to hold him. He felt himself wanting to paw against the window, but he didn’t. He just climbed down and left. It felt like an invasion of privacy and he couldn’t figure out why he cared so much about it.
“We need to fix Stiles,” he said over a Chinese take-out dinner in the loft a few days later. Scott stopped, chopsticks halfway to his mouth and full of noodles, and looked at him. Then he looked at Lydia, Allison, and Isaac, each getting more invested in the boxes of food in their hands.
“I didn’t realize he was broken.”
“If you haven’t at least realized that something is up, McCall, you’re even dumber than I thought you were. He’s not here right now, which is bad enough in and of itself. The boy loves Chinese food. He’d eat it every day if he could afford it. He also used to never miss pack activities! He was here even when we didn’t want him here! If you don’t see something wrong with this, there has to be something wrong with you too because you’re supposed to be brothers! You’re supposed to love him!” Derek growled, standing up. He could feel his canines extending, his claws coming in, but he pushed them back, calming himself as Scott stared at him.
“Ah, okay. I get it,” the teen said, putting his box down on the table, “You’re in love with him. I’m not sure why I didn’t see that before.”
“What? No! What are you even talking about?”
“It’s okay, Derek. Seriously. I don’t blame you. He’s a super loveable guy. But, he’s having a rough time right now and I just want to give him space. He knows I have pack stuff to deal with, but he’ll let me know what’s up eventually.” Derek wanted to punch Scott in the face. He didn’t blame him?
“I’m not in love with Stiles. Fuck, I can’t stand the smell of teenagers anymore, but this isn’t finished, McCall,” he took the box of food he’d been working on and another randomly off the table and stalked toward the stairs, “If you leave takeout mess all over my loft, I’ll tear every one of your throats out.” And he vanished. Stupid Scott. He wasn’t in love with Stiles. Why would he be? Seriously, the always in the way, irritating brat who pressed all of his buttons, over and over? No way. Derek just missed hearing his laugh floating obnoxiously around the loft. And maybe the familiar scent he left on everything he touched. Or that smile that lit up his whole face when he was making a joke at the older man’s expense. Yeah, no fucking way I’m in love with that asshole, Derek thought, shoveling food into his mouth so fast he could hardly breathe.
“Okay, so maybe I’m in love with Stiles,” Derek growled from his seat in Deaton’s waiting room when Scott walked out, holding a clipboard. The clipboard hit the ground.
“Don’t make me repeat it, McCall.”
“Oh, okay. Uh, so that’s cool. In love with my best friend, but uh, why are you here?”
“Because while I may be in love with him, it doesn’t change the fact that there is something very wrong.” Scott sighed and bent down to pick up the clipboard.
“As I said, he’ll come to me when he’s ready,” he replied as he stood up again. His nostrils flared, his toe tapped against the linoleum and Derek frowned.
“But what if he doesn’t? I saw him crying.”
“A week or so ago. I went to talk to him,” the man said, explaining exactly what he saw. The teen’s eyes widened, eyebrows moving slowly toward his hairline, mouth pressed into a firm line.
“Shit, you’re really helpful,” Derek grumbled as he stood, “We’ve got to figure something out.” And he left.
Breaking into the Stilinski house was the only thing Derek could think to do. So, after making sure nobody was home, he found that one of the Sheriff’s windows was cracked open a little. He probably hadn’t considered that windows make excellent entrances for werewolves, not that this werewolf was complaining. He made sure he hadn’t moved anything and padded down the hall to Stiles’ room. He removed his shoes and his coat and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed to wait.
He didn’t have to wait more than an hour before he heard the jeep pull in, and then it was just a matter of sitting still until there were footsteps on the stairs. As soon as he knew Stiles was in the house, that became really hard, especially since it was taking him like an hour to get up the stairs. When the teen was finally coming into his room, he had the largest bowl of ramen that Derek had ever seen. He couldn’t even see the ramen, the bowl was so huge; he could just smell it and wrinkled his nose. The bowl almost hit the floor when its holder realized there was someone on the bed, but it didn’t, which was good because the wolf was sure the bedroom would always stink of ramen.
“You do know breaking and entering is illegal, right? Like, you get that? And that this is the Sheriff’s house? That you would be arrested and you would go to jail?” Stiles said, setting the bowl on the desk and folding his arms across his chest.
“Yeah, but I needed to talk to you and you’ve not been overly receptive to that as of late.”
“Maybe that’s a sign that you should leave me alone.”
“But you’re pack. It’s like ohana. Ohana means family and family means no one gets left behind,” Derek replied with a shrug.
“Okay, I’m going to ignore the fact that you just quoted Lilo and Stitch at me, and just be honest for a second. I don’t want to be part of your fucking pack, Derek.”
“Technically, it’s Scott’s pack.”
“Fuck, I don’t care. I don’t want to be part of it.”
“I just don’t.” Stiles dropped down onto the edge of the bed, all but collapsing in on himself. Derek wasn’t sure what to do until he’d done it. Until he had his arms wrapped around the teen’s shoulders.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, pressing his cheek into Stiles’ back.
“I’m sad, I think,” the human replied, “I don’t know. It’s easier to be angry.”
“What are you sad about?”
“Everything. Nothing. Fuck, I don’t know. Can you please just leave me alone?” Stiles pulled away moving to sit down at his desk.
“I don’t think so.” Derek didn’t move from his spot on the bed, just looked at the boy who turned to him, his nostrils flared, his face red, and tears pooled in his eyelids.
“That’s why I have to stay.”
“I can’t look at your face without thinking that I should have done something. That I should have known about Jennifer, that I shouldn’t have let her get close to you and hurt you. Maybe I should have been able to stop it all. Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Maybe my dad wouldn’t flinch when someone touches him! Maybe Heather wouldn’t be dead! And everything would be okay.” Stiles bent over, tears dripping down his nose and screamed at the floor before he fell out of his desk chair, curling up on the carpet.
“No,” Derek said, crawling off the bed, “No. No. No. No.” He pulled the teen’s head into his lap, running his fingers through the short brown hair.
“You don’t get to blame yourself for that, Stiles. That wasn’t your fault at all. We were all duped. And I even dated her. I should have known her better than anyone else, but she got us, and that’s not your fault.”
“I just hurt inside. There’s darkness in my heart.”
“I know, I know, but I’ll help you fight it, okay?” The wolf reached out his hand, capturing the long, pale fingers and entwining them with his own. “I’ll hold your hand and we’ll fight against the darkness.” Stiles turned over, his head still in Derek’s lap, and looked up at him, not diverting his gaze until the tears had stopped dripping.
“Uh, well… I think I might be in love with you,” came the blushed reply.
“Oh.” The teen moved his free hand to rest on the man’s leg, pulling in a hiccupy post-crying breath.
“Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah, I think so.” They stayed on the floor for a long time, ramen growing cold in the bowl, until the cruiser pulled into the driveway and Derek had to go.
“Derek?” Stiles said, as the wolf unlocked and pushed the window open.
“I’m sorry I said those mean things to you.”
“Thanks.” And then, just as he heard the Sheriff’s footsteps on the stairs, Derek ducked out the window and disappeared.
