Work Text:
The moonlight from the blinds streaked across his face. He should be used to strange things by now, but god damn it, he just wanted a few moments to wallow in the shit storm that was his life. He wanted, needed, to mend what was broken. He wasn’t a hero. He couldn’t just keep smiling and lying. He couldn’t pretend everything was okay.
But he had to.
He had to keep his feet on the ground and move forward.
It didn’t mean that he had to feel good about it.
Allison, Boyd and Erica were god knows where.
Scott found a new best friend in Isaac. (Forgetting he already had one.)
Lydia and Jackson will be together forever.
His dad doesn’t look at him anymore.
And Derek? Well who the fuck cared what that creeper wolf thought, or what he was doing.
‘Stiles.’
‘JES-’
A hand clamped over his mouth. Stiles was about to retaliate, but then he frowned. Derek removed his hand.
‘What do you want, Sourwolf?’
Derek looked conflicted, between shoving him or, what was that look? It was almost as bad as Scott’s puppy eye look. Oh god. He looked, was that concern?
‘Sorry to sneak up on you like that.’
Stiles crossed his arms, ‘I’m so glad that you feel that way.’
An awkward silence hung between them. Stiles would normally break it. He didn’t.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’
Derek frowned, ‘How do you do that?’
‘Do what?’ Stiles challenged.
The wolf tapped his chest, ‘Lie without your pulse rising.’
Stiles right eye twitched, ‘Are you kidding me? You’re kidding me right?’ Stiles arms flew into motion. ‘Well I guess I’ll lay it down for you then. Practice. I get loads of practice, tons even. I’m thinking that I should change my career path, not that I had one, but yeah, change it to something with politics? ‘Cause I mean, they lie all the time right? Do what you’re good at. That’s what they tell you in school. Practice ‘till your perfect. And I have to be good at it, because it’s become a necessity. I get to practice on you and your jacket wearing betas, Scott, Allison doesn’t count ‘cause she isn’t here, Lydia, Danny, Jackson and hey,’ Stiles took a breath flashing a bright smile that didn’t reach his eyes, ‘Let’s not forget the Sheriff, my dad.’
Derek didn’t say anything, but he did kind of look like Stiles had just kicked him.
‘And you know what, Derek-chum, I am so good at the lying thing, that I am starting to believe it. I actually believe that I am fine, because when you think of everything in a comparative sense, then I am just peachy-fine. So I didn’t lie. I. Am. Fine.’
Stiles steam fizzled out. He tucked his hands under his arms, his mask slipped back in place.
He looked up at Derek. But his eyes were on the floor. His brows knit together.
‘What?’
Derek’s lips pursed tighter, as if to hold in any words that might slip out.
‘What? You look like I just kicked a puppy. No, the puppy. You’re favourite puppy in the whole entire world.’
Stiles waited.
‘It’s my fault.’
‘What?’
Derek huffed, ‘It’s my fault.’
Like that explained everything. Stiles did in fact have a brain to mouth filter, but he wasn’t sure of what the correct diplomatic response was. Derek had made some dumb ass decisions, to which he could be considered at fault. But then hey, so had Stiles, like going out into the woods to try and find a dead body. Great idea, champ! He was never going to let himself live that one down. But Stiles was a caring person, he took after his mother in that way. Even Derek didn’t deserve to wear that look.
‘Yeah, well. Shit happens.’
‘Yes. It does.’
Derek started to tap with his shoe, which Stiles had already catalogued in his mysterious body language as, ‘I want to say more but my stupid pride won’t let me.’
‘And?’ he probed. Derek wasn’t really a talker, but he was still here and hadn’t disappeared like Batman out the window. No, scratch that- like Robin out the window. Stiles wanted to be Batman damn it.
Derek huffed, ‘There’s a common factor.’
‘Werewolves?’
Derek looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but he answered instead, ‘Me.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘If I wasn’t here-’
‘I’d probably be dead if that was the case.’
Frustration crept into Derek’s voice, ‘It’s because of me that you’re in this mess.’
‘Nope, it’s because of Peter and his crazy that we’re in this mess.’
‘Peter and his crazy?’
Oh no. That probably wasn’t the best way to phrase that. Derek was mad. Stiles liked his limbs.
Derek was mad.
‘Why is he crazy Stiles?’
This had to be a trick question, but Derek seemed to be waiting for him to say something.
‘Kate Argent?’
‘How do you think Kate Argent, a hunter, got close enough to murder my family?’
Tick, tick, tick. Stiles jaw went slack.
Derek’s claws were digging into his palms, blood trickled down his knuckles.
‘I don’t know what to do anymore.’ Derek sounded so broken, so desperate, ‘I just want to fix . . . this.’
Stiles sat of the edge of his bed.
He pointed to the empty spot next to him, ‘Don’t make me say sit.’
A light growl escaped Derek, but he sat anyway.
Stiles laughed, ‘Dude, you’re bleeding all over my sheets.’ He didn’t get up for a wash cloth,
Stiles paused, weighing his options before he reached over and rested his hand over Derek’s fist.
Derek stilled. He looked to Stiles, but Stiles was looking away through the blinds. Derek forced himself, one breath in . . . and out. His claws receded.
Stiles took that chance to clasp their hands together.
Derek wondered if Stiles was magic. Hell, it was possible, because he could feel warmth spread through him. A kind of warmth that his mother had. His shoulders crumpled at the contact. He used to hold his mother’s hand all the time, she had such soft hands. Stiles’ hand was warmer, his fingers longer and his palm sweaty. He remembered how Laura squeezed his hand when he saw her last.
I’ll call you if I need anything, she said.
He never heard her voice again.
Derek found the air was too thin, his vision was clouded.
He felt a thumb brush over his fingers.
He shook his head gently and composed himself, ‘What excuse will you use for the blood?’
‘That? Don’t worry about it Wolfman, I’m a bit of a spaz so it won’t seem like too far a stretch when I tell my Dad I tripped and grazed my knee on the desk . . . or something.’
‘Hnn.’
Derek decided to let the Wolfman comment slide for now. However the ‘chum’ comment from earlier was not forgotten.
Both of them were staring at the opposite corners of the room. Stiles still hadn’t let go of Derek’s hand. He didn’t want to.
‘You don’t like lying to your dad.’
‘Excellent powers of observation. For once.’
Derek raised his brow, ‘Hey,’ he almost sounded offended.
Stiles kept silent, biting his lip as he watched the moonlight creep across his floor.
‘How’s Scott?’
‘Scott?’ Scott’s name seemed to shake Stiles out of his daze. ‘Ah, dear, lovable, puppy-eyed Scott? He’s coping better than I would have thought, but he’s got a great friend to help him through it though, right?’
‘He’s lucky to have you.’
Stiles laughed lightly, still keeping his mask in place, ‘I didn’t mean me.’
‘You meant Isaac.’
‘Hey, look, I’m just happy that they can ‘get’ each other, you know? Bonding over shackles and Scooby Snacks, sharing the werewolf thing and all.’
Stiles wasn’t able to keep smiling this time.
‘Hey, Stiles.’ Derek poked Stiles in the arm with his free hand.
‘Hey, Derek.’
‘We’re . . . friends?’
It was not appropriate to laugh. This was probably one of the strangest things to happen to date. But then again maybe it wasn’t, with the mutual saving each others lives thing. Derek looked a little hopeful, but when Stiles didn’t immediately respond his face changed, preparing for rejection.
Focus Stiles.
‘Yeah,’ he squeezed back, ‘Yes. We’re friends.’