Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Call him crazy, but Stiles loved riding the subway. There was just something about it that felt really comforting. Sure, if you could ignore the noise and the rude people. But it was one of his favorite times of day, when he could tune everything out by listening to music or podcast episodes. Whenever he could find a seat, he would pull out his sketch pad and get started on homework. 

But there were days he got really lucky. And he got to work on some of his… special projects. He knew it was risky, working on his pieces in such a public place, but he enjoyed the thrill of almost getting caught. It was the primary reason why he had come up with an entire alias and brand. So he could continue being Stiles, without having to lose a part of himself to the world.

Of course, there were days he wanted to drop out and live off of his art. But he had promised his father he’d see college through. NYU was lucky to have him, he used to say. Stiles was thankful for everything he learned, but let’s just say sketching impressionists wasn’t his idea of a grand old time. That’s where the earbuds came in. He needed music to make things more interesting. When it came to his own work, he had never had problems finding a muse. But school stuff? Gosh, sometimes he wanted to gauche his own eyes out.

Stiles wasn’t good with people. That was how his mother had found out he had a thing for art. He would spend every waking moment drawing. He’d rather get lost in his own world than make friends with the other kids. Then Scott had come into the picture and things had changed, of course. But Stiles always came back to his sketch pad. He had a tendency to be too loud and happy and sometimes he scared people away. He was simply a lot to handle.

So he would just sit there, backpack in between his feet, pad rested on his knees. On a good day, he could get a good ten per cent done. He had learned to draw in a moving vehicle at a very young age, so that wasn’t an obstacle for him. Today wasn’t exactly what Stiles would call a good day. He still had some things to get done before his first outing of the month the following night and this impressionists thing was biting him in the ass!

Impressionists liked faces. Stiles wasn’t all that great at faces either. Growing up with a cop for a father, Stiles had pretty much turned into a human lie detector. Expressions had become just too simple for him. Stiles hated simple. He loved a good challenge, a building too high, running from a police cruiser coming down the street. You could say it was his drug. When he decided to start his own movement in NYC, he had never imagined things would get this out of proportion. But he had gone with the flow. He adapted. But faces? Faces weren’t his thing. Faces were boring.

Which was why he still hadn’t finished this particular piece. He usually liked to get all of his school stuff done before his next outing, but no such luck this time around. Stiles sighed in frustration, biting down on his pencil. He used the break to stretch his hand, which had been cramping from the drawing and erasing he had done the past ten minutes. He just couldn’t seem to get in his usual groove today. 

He noticed the wagon was pretty much empty already. The ride home was much noisier then the ride to college, given how everybody was excited to be going home for the day. People chatted loudly, making plans for the night and Stiles liked being surrounded by that kind of vibe. It always lifted his spirits. He kind of wished he had a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. It wasn’t cold in NYC, at the moment, but his hands were hurting. Art school was no joke.

He realized he hadn’t been paying any attention to the last three minutes of the episode he had randomly chosen to listen to, so he had to rewind it a little. It had been a long ass day, so Stiles chose not to be too harsh on himself. Everybody had good and bad days. He had been staring at a Matisse painting with a colleague for a different project, though that one would be a piece of cake. He’d pick Fauvism any day.

Stiles decided he was done for the day. He’d work on the sketch in the morning, during his free period. He hugged his things to his chest and enjoyed the last twenty five minutes of the ride home to close his eyes. He never actually slept, but the quiet swaying of the cart helped him slip into a different headspace of sorts.

He chuckled a few times with the jokes being cracked on the episode, but didn’t exactly open his eyes. He was so acquainted with the stations, he knew he only had three more before it was time for him to go. Stiles sighed, throwing his backpack over his shoulder and getting up while the wagon wasn’t moving. A lady came to sit where he had been, sighing at the heavy bags she had been carrying. 

Stiles made his way to the nearest exit, yawning. He stuffed his phone and earbuds into the pocket of his coat and zipped it up. As he stood by the door only then did he notice the man standing next to him. He was hugging his briefcase to his chest with one arm and seemed to be on the very brink of losing his mind at whoever he was speaking to on the phone.

“How the fuck should I know? He’s your boyfriend, Cora, not mine” Stiles saw the man rolling his eyes, at his own words or at the person on the other side. The wagon was nearing the next station, so Stiles moved out of the way to let two other people get inside “You should ask Erica about it, okay? I’m not gay enough to deal with this crap”

Stiles did his best to hold back the snort of laughter that wanted out of his chest. He had no context for that conversation whatsoever, but whatever it was, it was proof enough the guy at least had a sense of humor. Stiles wanted to say he kept to himself and let the guy mind his own business, but he would be lying.

“Well, ask Isaac, then. He’ll know what to do. Have you seen the scarves he wears?” Stiles wasn’t one to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, but this one just kept getting better and better “I swear, he has more sense of style in his pinky than I have in my entire body”

I’d have to disagree with you on that one, buddy. Stiles rolled his eyes at himself. It had been stupidly easy for his trained eyes to examine the man’s larger body. He was easily twice Stiles’ size and was built, all broad shoulders under a black suit jacket. His entire ensemble did a poor job at hiding… well, everything about him.

Stiles realized he had been staring, but he couldn’t help but keep on staring once his eyes landed on the portion of the man’s face he could see. His profile was breathtaking. Back in his freshman year, in one of his very first lessons, he had been taught to look for nothing other than perfection. The perfect symmetry to a person’s features. Though his teacher hadn’t made an official assignment out of it, he had dared every student to start paying more attention to people’s faces.

And Stiles had failed to find such a human. And yet, Stiles yearned to have a proper look at this guy, take in his stubbled cheeks and long, long lashes. His slim nose and impressive cheekbones. Stiles was sure this man was a sight to behold and he had a suspicion he’d finally found what his teacher had been talking about.

Figuring he looked like a total creep, Stiles sighed, forcing his eyes to leave the poor guy alone. Until he dropped his phone, a soft curse whispered under his breath. Stiles acted before he could really do much else, holding onto the wagon as it started slowing down to stop at his station. The iPhone was still lit up and Stiles stole a glimpse at the wallpaper in the homescreen. 

It was his painting. His painting. Stiles smiled. He had done this a thousand times, meeting people who were fans of his work, but not once telling them who he was. Stiles stood back up, hearing the tracks squeak under the weight of the subway train and offered the phone back to the man who so effortlessly managed to steal Stiles’ breath away. It took him all of five seconds to remember to keep breathing.

Holy fucking shit balls, he was gonna have a crush on a complete stranger. One he wasn’t likely to see ever again. And a boner too, so it seemed. The guy smiled, thanking Stiles. He reached for the phone with his free hand and there it was. The outline of another project of his on the white t-shirt the guy wore under the suit jacket. 

Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath, feeling the guys’ eyes back on his face. As the doors slid open, Stiles got a better grip of his design case. He didn’t bother lifting his gaze as he whispered before stepping out onto the platform:

“Cool shirt”

Chapter Text

Derek hated living so far away from work. Even though he was lucky enough to get to do what he loved every single day, he still found himself regretting never buying a car. While getting the washing machine ready for the night, he huffed at the t-shirt he had worn that day. One of his most troubled kids had revealed his love for the Spark. 

Derek had sighed, relieved. Finally! Some common ground. So, he had spent the entirety of the previous week wearing his beloved t-shirts and spreading the love for the artist, quite literally. The kid had been onto him from the first day he showed up wearing one, but he had been too excited about the chance to talk to someone who shared the same interest to care. They had spent their first session discussing the Spark’s first project and the hour had flown right past them.

Derek had been one of the many witnesses to the birth of the Spark movement. He was a New Yorker, born and bred and he worked with mostly teenagers every day. The Spark had been all over the news since day one and had been all everyone talked about for weeks on end. At first, he had been very judgemental of the whole thing. He had allowed other people to influence his opinion on the matter and he had to guess his mother would be very disappointed in him for that. Afterall, Derek had been taught that people had every right to speak their mind. 

The Spark had never been afraid to speak their truth, no matter who it hurt. Derek had to guess that was one of the main reasons for the movement’s popularity. Honesty was refreshing, these days. They had come after politicians, the corrupt justice system, fat shaming celebrities in the most inventive of ways. Every possible surface had become their canvas. Buildings, cars, the very pavement. New York City would wake up to a new design every few weeks. Derek had come to respect the mastermind behind it all, surprised he shared a lot of the same opinions.

And within a few months, the Spark movement had taken New York City over by storm. Local art magazines talked about it as something momentaneous, a surge of street art getting too much praise. The Spark had graffitied outside their building the day after their article had come out. Derek had chuckled at the news. Oh, the balls! The New Yorker had taken to writing a column on the movement, to keep everyone ‘updated’. That was their reasoning. But it had turned into a full blown gossip fiasco three weeks in, with people playing detective to try and find out who was behind the Spark.

It had caused the Spark to go dormant for two entire months. People had speculated the movement was over, but Derek knew better. Someone like that wouldn’t leave because people got too nosy. One morning, the people of New York had woken up to find pamphlets, hundreds of thousands of bright red pamphlets, spread all over town. The suckers were glued to walls, windows, taxi cabs. It was everywhere. Printed in different sizes, the city had spent days trying to remove them all. Of course, plenty of people had complained, but Derek had been amazed. It must have taken so much work and dedication and stealth! Derek had kept one of them.

“Who I am doesn’t matter. 

There will be no further explanation.

I am everywhere”

The message had been loud and clear. After that, the Spark had started getting national attention. Thanks to social media, ‘#Spark’ had been a trending topic from day one. There were online pages dedicated to their work and pubs had trivia night regarding their projects. Five months in and the Spark hadn’t ceased to amaze. The first painting, however, surfaced thanks to an anonymous donation to a very prestigious art gallery on the Upper East Side. The artist behind it? The Spark.

The art world had imploded. The painting had been stared at for days on end, people scheduled appointments to come in and have all of five minutes with the canvas. Articles were written, professionals gave their ratings. It was all people talked about, once again. And they hadn’t stopped after that. More paintings continued to pop up, in a completely unrelated schedule to the art on the streets. 

Derek had been convinced that those critical, ironic and savage drawings splashed all over the city and the stoically beautiful paintings adorning the walls of some select expensive galleries on the Upper East Side had to have been done by two very different individuals. There was just no freaking way a single person had that much talent. 

And Derek loved trying to understand the mind behind it. Coming from a psychology degree and a masters in child education and mentality, he had found himself using every single skill he had ever acquired to try and make sense of who this person could be. And he had never gotten frustrated upon failure. Instead, every few weeks, there was something new to look into. A new drawing, a new intervention on their daily lives. It was a gift that just kept on giving.

Derek enjoyed his Saturday mornings to go on walks around the city. He spent all week at the office, so he enjoyed trying to spot everything that had changed during his free time. Which restaurants had closed, which shows were still on. Sundays were his stay-at-home days, so he took his time to get everything he needed done on Saturdays. That included groceries, gym and whatever errands he could fit in. Solitude never bothered him, as long as Derek kept his headphones on. He wore jeans and a shirt and made his way out of his neighborhood on foot.

Derek had decided to splurge a little and added decorations to his list of errands. He had grown tired of staring at the untouched walls of his apartment. He had spent the last six months reading and discussing art, maybe he had picked up a thing or two. Cora had been trying to get him to hire a decorator for the past three years, but Derek had never budged. If only she could see him now. He grabbed his phone and dialed her number. Derek knew she would most likely still be in bed, but he gave it a shot anyway.

“Der? Tell me there’s an emergency” Cora groaned, probably after looking at the time. Derek chuckled, holding the door to a coffee shop open to help a lady with too many cups. He nodded and smiled, moving on with his conversation, entering the place “Otherwise, why the hell are you calling at this hour?”

“It’s almost nine o’clock in the morning, my dear sister” Derek chuckled and got in line, which thankfully wasn’t very long. This was a morning of firsts apparently, because Derek had always wanted to stop by the place. The building was all exposed brick and looked like a warehouse. The windows were huge and the chairs looked inviting. The place was already half full, with couples sharing donuts and all kinds of drinks. His eyes explored the menu on the wall above the counter as he decided on what to get “I just thought you’d like to know I’m following your advice”

“And I’m usually right” Derek rolled his eyes and followed as the line moved. He could hear Cora yawning as she stumbled into her kitchen to make herself her own cup of coffee “But what about exactly this time?”

“I decided to look for some art stuff. For the apartment” Derek shrugged, even though he knew Cora couldn’t see him. It was just something he did. Derek had always hated speaking on the phone. You couldn’t see the other person and, for someone who had made a living out of examining people, it wasn’t the most comfortable setting for him “I’m going to run some errands and have a look at local shops. Would you like to join me for lunch? Go painting hunting with me?”

“Why, absolutely. Anything to get me away from my own problems” Derek chuckled, whispered his order to the barista before returning to his call. Boy trouble could get a girl running for the hills “Though ‘art stuff’ has me a little worried. For someone with such good taste, that was oddly vague, even for you. I think you might be in dire need of my help, Der Bear”

“Well, I haven’t really thought about what I’m looking for, I suppose. I guess I’ll know it when I see it” Derek paid for his large cup of coffee and inhaled the sweet scent of his drink before using his elbow to open the door. The weather was really perfect and he enjoyed being outside far more than sitting at one of those tables. He had been pleased to learn the service at the shop was so efficient, he’d definitely go back “Meet me on the corner of 25th and Madison? Say 11:45?”

After hanging up, Derek found that his feet were taking him toward the most expensive side of town. The local stores seemed unusually bare and nothing seemed to fit in with his taste. Derek wasn’t the kind of guy who welcomed change, so he knew that whatever he brought home had to be perfect. The last thing he needed was to have to stare at something hideous every time he got home. He’d done such a great job decorating his office building, he hadn’t had a single drop of inspiration for his own apartment. It was pathetic how he had had only a few boxes to unpack when he moved in. Especially when the office had taken an entire week and a group of friends. 

He had almost given up hope when he stopped outside a large white gallery, just a block away from where he was supposed to meet Cora. Her favorite restaurant was just down the street from there and Derek had been surprised he hadn’t remembered this one place. His feet became stuck right where he stood the second his eyes landed on the painting being delivered inside. It wasn’t an unusual sight, but the painting caught his eye in an instant. There was a woman, who dramatically covered her mouth as she held what looked like a letter. 

Derek couldn’t see the painting all that well, but he would recognize that signature just about anywhere. Derek only realized what he’d done once he found himself inside the cool gallery, eyes glued to a Spark canvas that was easily five times the size of their regular paintings. He had never seen it before, so he had to guess it was brand new. 

“Sorry, we aren’t open for business yet” The woman left the open envelope on the counter behind him, removing her gloves as she walked toward him. She seemed to notice Derek didn’t even acknowledge her words. Her eyes followed his and he heard her chuckle “Oh, a fan of the Spark movement, I take it. I am much more a fan of his street pieces myself, but this one is just delightful, is it not?”

Derek stuttered, nodding his agreement that the street paraphernalia was that much more fun to study, but this painting made words fall short. There was true beauty in front of him, the face of a woman he had never seen before but captured with such life that it brought tears to Derek’s eyes.

“I’ve… never seen this one before” Whoever the woman was, meant a great deal to the artist. Her face held such intrinsic detailing it was almost like looking at a picture. Or even a memory. The corners of the canvas were blurred, almost as if someone had been looking at her through teary eyes. The woman looked down at the view, a gentle smile on her lips, reaching with her arms as if Derek were laying down. It was breathtaking. 

“Oh, it’s brand new” Derek’s head snapped to look at her, intrigued and ecstatic that he was getting to see this masterpiece first-hand. Usually galleries kept the painting under wraps until they planned some sort of unveiling party. The Spark never made any requests or asked for a share of the money. “It was only just delivered to us”

“Were they… were they here?” Derek had taken to being neutral when talking about the artist behind the Spark, but many people had just assumed them to be a man. Specialists had analyzed his brush strokes, his signature and concluded that he had to be a man, no matter how delicate he could be at times. Then there was the fact he climbed buildings and stuff for the street pieces. People had just assumed a woman wouldn’t do that, which had caused its fair share of commotion online. Derek didn’t think it mattered all that much, but even he had to admit the secrecy only added to the mystery.

“Oh, I wish! No, he wasn’t. I’m afraid his identity is the one thing he holds closest” The woman sighed, her eyes still lost on the painting. Not that Derek could blame her. It was hard to look at, for its intimacy and even harder to look away. It evoked memories Derek had long buried and, even though they weren’t all that great, he couldn’t look away for very long. He wouldn’t mind getting to look at it more often “This canvas is to be auctioned in a few days”

“Auctioned?” Derek frowned. That was new. None of the pieces had gone up for auction before. Sure, people had nearly started wars for them, with rumors of fights breaking out in galleries, but this was entirely news to Derek “They never auctioned anything before”

“I guess the Spark still has some surprises up his sleeve. This piece is for the Truth or Truth campaign. Artists from all kinds of crafts have been ‘nominated’ by their fellow craftsmen to reveal one of their most treasured memories” Derek had heard of the project, of course. And had heard of the Spark being nominated, but he had never figured they were the kind of artist that would reveal such a huge thing about themselves, especially when secrecy was part of their brand. He could see it as a publicity thing, given how people would freak out at how personal they were being. But Derek found it hard to believe the Spark was acting with that in mind “When the Spark contacted us, asking if we’d be interested in representing him for the auction, we were very happy to do so. I was… shocked that this was what came through those doors this morning. Here, have a look”

The lady, Kira as she had introduced herself, led Derek toward the counter, where she offered Derek a pair of gloves. She put a pair on herself and showed him the envelope she had just opened. Derek saw the pretty name written in red ink and his heart raced. A letter from Spark, a personal note. They had never done so before. Derek’s mind came up with millions of theories as to why they would change that now. The envelope didn’t seem custom made, plenty of stores sold fancy black envelopes, but the art on it was anything but ordinary. Derek had every reason to believe the Spark had put a lot of thought into it.

Kira laid a suede towel on the counter top and handed Derek the latter. The paper was fancy, alright and most definitely store bought, with a red cursive S on the left upper corner. Derek rested it on the towel, not wanting to be responsible in case something happened to it. His hands were also shaking, so he decided it’d be best if he kept them to himself.

“Just be careful with it” Kira removed her own gloves and stepped away from the counter to officially open the place. The painting was already being moved away from its current resting place and Derek couldn’t help but steal a couple more glances. Derek knew he had barged in, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry about it “This is the handwritten note that came along with the painting. We still have to analyze it, but the email spoke of a note that would accompany the canvas. We have every reason to believe it’s from the Spark himself. It will be auctioned along with the canvas”

Derek looked at the words on the page and took a deep breath.

It surprised me I was willing to share this particular memory with the world. Part of me wanted to create something fun and entertaining, but I later realized that’s not the purpose of this campaign. I am immensely grateful for the nominations, by the way. I know it’s hard to believe, but, in my personal life, I’m an open book. Chances are we’ve met before. You might even call me easygoing. 

So, after being nominated, I sat in my flat and pondered on this memory. I made a list of things I could try and capture, but the truth is, I knew it just couldn’t be this particular one. It scared me far too much. Apart from revealing my real name, this is the most personal I have ever been in my work. But isn’t that what art is all about? Fighting your own boundaries? So, there you have it.

This painting is called ‘Claudia’, in honor of my mother. Why does this memory scare me? Easy. I’m the reason her life fell apart. After being diagnosed with a degenerative disease, I watched my mother fade away into oblivion, until her sharp mind became dull and she took her own life, on January 17th. This is my earliest memory of her. My happiest memory. The short, precious moments when my mother would wake me up. I couldn’t have been more than three at this point.

My father drank himself to death not a year later, unable to go through life without her.

It’d be beautiful, weren’t it all so tragic. 

My mother was a fighter, a piano teacher and an awesome baker. She touched so many people with her truth and love. She raised a hyperactive child mostly on her own, helping me with my homework and tucking me in with a made up story every single night. No matter what happened in the end, my mother will forever be my happiest memory. 

I thought about showing how much her death had hurt me. But I chose against it. She meant more to me than her suicide. She is my Claudia no matter what. So, here is my happiest, fondest memory.

Spark.

Derek kept his eyes fixed on the page. The words had made his eyes sting and something crack inside his chest. It reminded him so much of his mother it was hard to breathe for a long while. He was glad he hadn’t been holding the page. The last thing he needed or wanted was to leave tear stains on such a valuable document. He was startled back into the present by his phone ringing in the pocket of his jeans. Shit. He’d completely forgotten about Cora.

“Hey. Sorry, I’m late. I know” Derek hadn’t seen time fly by, but he was already twenty minutes late. Which he never was. Tardiness just wasn’t his thing. He wiped the tears from his eyes and made his way to the center of the gallery showroom. His shoes echoed on the marble floors, given how there wasn’t a single piece of furniture in the entire place “Can you meet me at the Berry Campbell Gallery? It’s just a block away from you. I believe I have found the piece I was looking for”

Derek looked for Kira, perfectly certain he’d pay whatever price he had to in order to own it. He was already thinking of calling the bank for them to be ready in case of a large withdrawal. He found her dusting off frames, humming happily to herself. She turned to him, but smiled when she heard the bell ring on top of the door. She was about to make her way over, but Derek stopped her.

“That’s just my sister” Derek spoke with great confidence. Cora could walk really fast in her stilettos when she wanted to, especially when he owed her a lunch date at her favorite spot in town. She wore white jeans and a cream jacket, her bag thrown over her shoulder. Derek knew Kira would soon enough see the Hale family resemblance. Everybody did “The ‘Claudia’. I would like to purchase it. No matter the cost”

Derek could feel Cora wanting to say he wasn’t going to buy shit unless she said so, but he was ready to fight both the women in front of him on this. Derek had never been more sure of anything in life. Kira stuttered, most definitely in awe of Cora. Most people found her intimidating and his sister loved taking full advantage of that. She must have realized how serious Derek was, because she took her sunglasses off and smiled her best Hale smile.

“I… I’m sorry, but we are only doing what the Spark asked us to. The painting belongs in the Truth or Truth auction. I can’t sell the auction’s center lot. It’s the only reason the auction is happening in the first place” Derek was ready to go all out for this painting, but he had to guess Kira was right. Her gallery was only the middle man in this situation. If it were to be auctioned, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her company wouldn’t make as much money if it were sold privately and Derek, or any other interested buyer, would have to spend twice or three times the sum, if it weren’t “If you’d like, you can make a starting bid and earn a spot on the auction, next Friday. If you outbid the others, the ‘Claudia’ is yours”

Derek agreed to her terms before he could give the whole situation too much thought. He pulled out a check, which he filled out with the according starting bid. He still had six days before the auction, so that gave him plenty of time to prepare for that event. He’d definitely have to stop by the bank during the week. Once they were on their way over to the restaurant, Cora whistled.

“A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Who would’ve thought I’d live to see the day my big brother spent that kind of money on a painting” Cora teased, locking her arm with his as they walked toward the restaurant. They’d be lucky to find a table, but Derek figured he’d let Cora handle this one. Besides, he didn’t want to be teased any more so he didn’t mention how he still had no idea if the painting would be his. He had just spent money to buy himself a seat at that event “I’m proud of you, Der Bear. Oh! Pinch me, I must be dreaming!”

Derek chuckled and followed his little sister inside the restaurant.

Chapter Text

Stiles had cackled for three whole minutes when he heard his painting had been sold for an astounding one-point-five million dollars. Not because he didn’t think it was worth that amount, but because of the sheer absurdity of the news. His mother sure as hell deserved the praise, but it still was a mind boggling fact to wake up to on a Saturday. School had been a bitch to him all day the previous day and Stiles found himself going home to some mac ‘n’ cheese and an entire evening of refreshing Twitter until news of the painting came out.

No names were published, but Stiles could only imagine some art critic had purchased the painting. Maybe even some other gallery or maybe a modern art museum. The possibilities were endless. And, anyway, it was for a good cause. Many art programs would be able to remain afloat thanks to that kind of investment. It had been the primary reason Stiles had agreed to participating. But his Saturdays were precious to him. Almost sacred.

Stiles went for a run around the perimeter of Central Park early in the morning, stopping by Scott’s house before finishing his outing with a supply run. All the local art supply shops knew him at this point. It was a great bonus that his education was also his alibi for spending hundreds of dollars on canvases, brushes and whatever more refined materials he needed. The school provided the most basic supplies, but Stiles had come to appreciate the finer things in life. One doesn’t just graffiti hundreds of square feet of building surfaces with school supplies. 

So, through the afternoon and well into the evening, Stiles would sing along to Foster The People and get lost inside his own little world. He already had weeks of Spark projects in the making, so all he could do at this point was wait for his newest piece to be found and dive headfirst into that impressionist bullshit assignment. His hamstrings were still sore from climbing that many steps two nights before. And he had nearly been late for school the following morning, thanks to a night spent awake. But it would all be worth it.

The ‘Claudia’ was delivered to his penthouse the following day. He had spent the better part of an hour signing documents and, for whatever reason, had been waiting for him to regret the purchase. But the feeling never came. It had taken four men to deliver the painting, the canvas so large it didn’t fit the regular elevator. It mobilized the entire building staff. Derek held the door open and had stared in complete and utter awe as it was placed on the wall he had cleared for it. 

What a stunner. He couldn’t seem to get tired of staring at it. He had almost received death threats the night before once he had laid his claim, but Derek had to admit it had been worth it. It had given him a sort of thrill nothing else could match. He shook the hands of the delivery men, giving each of them a large tip. What could he say, he was feeling generous. 

Cora knocked on his door half an hour later and Derek sighed, forcing himself to move away from the painting to open the door for her. He still wore his pajamas, but she looked about ready for battle. They had gone to the auction together the night before and Derek had watched as her chin dropped more and more the longer Derek kept bidding on the piece. Part of her was incredibly proud that he was finally using his inheritance. Derek deserved to have nice things, whatever he wanted. The other part had kind of been wishing for a car instead.

Stiles looked for those broad shoulder for days after that first encounter. If he could even call it that, that was. But there had been no sign of the man for two whole weeks after that. Stiles had already found his seat before he finally saw him. And his smile immediately deflated. There was a girl with him. Though Stiles had heard him say he was gay, he had no way to prove it. It made him feel that much more stupid when he pulled out his sketch pad.

There those cheekbones were, gorgeous green eyes staring back at him. Remember how Stiles hated faces? Well, let’s just say he didn’t hate this face. But faces were tricky for him. Especially the one face he hadn’t seen in over fourteen days. Stiles had started drawing him as soon as he got home, afraid he’d start forgetting the smaller details. Besides, it wasn’t like Stiles was going to make a move on the man. Please, he barely even spoke to his barista. What on Earth could he possibly say to the most handsome man he had laid his eyes on?

Stiles chose not to plug in his earbuds this time. He went unnoticed, eyes going back and forth from his sketchbook to the man sitting across the cart from him. The guy smiled that gorgeous smile of his, though he never showed any teeth. Stiles wondered why that was. He had to guess he’d be blinded if he ever did see them. The guy was probably trying to prevent any accidents. Stiles had gotten a few things wrong about him, shocker. He pulled out his darkest pencil and got started on his hair, which had been the least of his concerns up until now.

“Derek, Boyd works with us” The girl next to him groaned, resting her head on his shoulder “How could I possibly approach him with this? I mean, I like the guy. But I wouldn’t want to risk our working relationship on a maybe”

“Baby girl, you know I wish I could give you all the answers, right? But you’re asking for advice from the wrong person. Remember the last time I tried dating? Or the time before that? Trust me, you do not want relationship advice from me”

Derek.

Derek sounded nice. Stiles bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. He sighed at his own stupidity a moment later. He couldn’t believe he was acting like a fucking teenager at this point in his life. Stiles told himself that the warm feeling inside his chest was just his imagination. There was no way in hell he’d fall for someone he didn’t even know. Lydia had all but crushed his heart and it had taken them years to get to being friends. He couldn’t possibly go through that again. With a stranger.

“Boyd’s not her, Derek. You know that. He’s been working with us for over a year now. He’s a good guy. But he won’t be forward with me and it’s so frustrating! So, I’m stuck. Afraid to make a move”

“Erika, who the fuck are you, huh? You’re a badass woman who raised a child on her own. You don’t have to be afraid to ask him out, this is the twenty-first century. And gosh, I may have had some pretty damn catastrophic experiences with women, but you are one of the few good ones out there. He’d be stupid not to see that and Boyd’s anything but”

Stiles was hella confused. Wasn’t he gay up until two minutes ago? But he’s been with women too? Sure, okay. Stiles himself was bissexual. But why would he identify as gay, then? Stiles’ head was spinning from all that wondering. It did him no good, considering he was running low on his Adderall of the day.

“And that is why I come to you for relationship advice, Derek and not your sister. Cora is amazing and all that, but she hardly ever knows what to say, even when she has the best intentions. You? You could be president, you have such a good way with words”

“Who knows, maybe we’re raising the next president”

Do you know how many Derek's live in New York City? Ugh, Stiles was frustrated! He got home that night and left his sketchbook untouched on his work desk. He really didn’t feel like looking at that face anymore, no matter how gorgeous it was. At least for the time being. He needed to get that heartburn under control. Even after dinner and a good shower, he still found himself opening his laptop.

But he hadn’t meant to try and google the man. That was some stalker shit and Stiles wanted nothing to do with it. Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to get a life. Apart from nearly getting arrested every other night, of course. But how could he explain being the Spark to someone? How does one explain finally finding what they were supposed to do with their lives, no matter how orthodox that was? No matter the lengths they had to go to? It wasn’t as though Stiles could write that in his Tinder profile.

 Let’s just say Stiles wasn’t all that fond of spending his weekends alone.

Chapter Text

Derek hadn’t been completely unaware of the guy from that day looking at him from time to time. He had been subtle, Derek had to hand it to him. It had taken Derek a couple of days to even spot him, let alone notice he had been eyeing him. At first, he just ignored it. The guy gave no indication that he wanted to speak with him, with how he had always had his earbuds in, listening to something that often made him chuckle as silently as possible. A podcast was Derek’s best guess.

And that was his routine for days on end. He’d go to work, sit across from the cute guy on the ride home and do it all over again the following day. It wasn’t really that bad of a day to have. But recently the kid seemed to have his attention focused elsewhere. On the large sketchbook he held, apparently. Derek hadn’t once been able to see what he was doing, but it seemed to be important. He switched colored pencils of multiple brands, biting his bottom lip in concentration from time to time.

It wasn’t until Thursday evening, the cart somewhat crowded, that things changed. Things finally changed. Derek hadn’t seen the envelope coming. The black, elegant envelope that the cute guy, who was standing in front of him as they approached his stop, was handing him with a mischievously sweet smile on his face. Up close, Derek thought he could count every single one of those beauty marks that adorned his skin.

Derek had seen him ramadging inside his backpack for something, but he had never expected this. The guy had shielded whatever he had been doing with said backpack and Derek had all but blinked and missed him getting up. And, before Derek could do much more than just grab the envelope, the guy turned on his heels and left, a chuckle out of his chest at Derek’s baffled expression. Derek turned the envelope in his hands, his heart slamming against his ribcage as his mind raced back to the first time he had touched one of those. The envelope he had paid for.

At the gallery.

This envelope was five times the size and wasn’t sealed like that one had been. It couldn’t be, could it? But that would mean… Derek took a deep breath. There was no point in stressing out about that right now. One thing at a freaking time, he told himself. But Derek couldn’t help closing his eyes at the drawing he held, almost as if blinded by it. 

It was him.

Him.

Derek found there almost a picture of himself, sitting on the subway cart. It was so good, so real. And familiar. The style, the strokes on paper. Derek felt like he had already looked at the drawing before, even though the date on the bottom corner matched the one on his phone.

Oh, fuck.

The signature.

Spark.

No. No, it couldn’t be.

All this time? All these weeks he had been that close to the Spark himself?! And he really was a guy?! A cute guy?! Derek’s hands trembled as he looked at himself with a different set of eyes. The Spark had sketched him. Ever since that day, he had known Derek was a fan. Was that why he kept stealing glances? Derek was so confused it made his head spin.

Then a piece of paper fell out of the envelope and onto his lap. Derek closed his eyes for a second time. The same handwriting greeted his eyes and Derek bit his lip to stop himself from smiling when he read the words.

Have dinner with me tomorrow.

Whatever time works best for you. My place or any restaurant you want.

Call me so we can talk? 917-555-0319

Derek barely had time to slide the drawing back inside the envelope and get out of the cart once he noticed he had missed his station. The Spark had asked him out. Fuck! Derek covered his mouth, desperate to scream into his palm because there were butterflies. There were butterflies all the way up to his throat and Derek found himself reaching for his phone without a second thought.

No one had ever done anything quite like that to have Derek. No one had ever appreciated him and he sure as hell felt wanted. Part of him was worried he was chasing some stupid thrill. It was the Spark, for crying out loud. But then he remembered the two whole weeks of wishing the cute guy from his cart would come and talk to him. Or sit next to him, at the very least.

Well, screw this. Derek dialed the number and barely had time to press the phone against his ear before there that chuckle was. Just on the other end of the line. Derek stopped dead in his tracks, mind suddenly blank. What could he even say? He had never thought this would happen. Sure, he had been hit on plenty, but this was not a situation Derek could say he had ever found himself in before.

“You probably have a lot of questions” His voice was soft, melodic. Like it held a secret. Like they shared a secret. And it took Derek only an instant to realize they did share a secret. For better or worse, the guy had trusted him with his biggest secret. Derek felt oddly… honored.

“Fuck yeah, I do” Derek couldn’t help but smile at the full blown laughter he caught on the other end. There seemed to be some echo to his voice, as if he had been standing in a hallway “First of all, what? Second, you drew me? That’s what you’ve been doing this whole time? Without even looking at me?” Derek laughed, more in a stunned realization of the conversation he was having “I mean, if I was ever going to get this lucky...”

“I’m sorry if I crossed any lines with drawing you” The guy chuckled and the tone of their conversation changed. It became more intimate, though Derek couldn’t pinpoint why he felt that way “When I saw you were a fan of mine, it just made things complicated. I mean, have you seen yourself?” Derek snorted, looking around before crossing the street to his apartment building. Once inside, Derek took the stairs so the elevator wouldn’t cut their call “I looked at you, a lot… aaaand I did not mean to make that sound like I’m a total creep, by the way. Jeez. What I mean is, you’re gorgeous. You probably hear it all the time, but that first time I saw you…”

“I don’t, actually. Hear it all the time” Derek heard a gasp coming from the other side of the line and somehow he knew that it was in feign outrage. They shared a laugh. Derek couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that  “But why wait to ask me out, then?”

“Well, saying it bluntly, I don’t trust a lot of people. Being the Spark, it’s made dating pretty hard” Derek could only imagine. The sneaking out at night, the run-ins with the cops. But, for some reason, those things didn’t really mean anything to Derek. Still, he didn’t think he could walk away from this. This feeling… it’d been such a long time. He wanted more “And you’re my fan. I… I didn’t ask you out to be friends, if that wasn’t clear”

“Oh, it was clear” Derek felt surprise shoot through him at those words. He was flirting. Oh, if his sister could see him now. Derek knew it was just a matter of time before his brain caught up with his mouth, so he worked quickly “And… it’s mutual, just so you know” Derek smiled at the relieved ‘okay’ that was whispered to him on the other end, followed by that delicious laughter again “I’m Derek”

“Stiles” Derek hummed, pleased, as he dropped his bag on the kitchen counter. Every night when he came home, ‘Claudia’ greeted him. He wanted to say that he had been the one to buy it, but he felt like that wasn’t the right time. Still, he sat on the stool and let his eyes take in the whole picture again “So, do I stand a chance? There’s a lot more to me than just the Spark you like so much”

“Yes. Yeah, I’d like to see that. You” Derek bit his lip. He couldn’t help but smile at the unfamiliar wave of anticipation that surged through him. It gripped his stomach and Derek feared it wouldn’t let him go until this date was afoot.

“Dinner tomorrow, then? My place?” Stiles’ voice sounded just as breathless and excited as Derek felt and it made him fucking swoon, okay? He was so out of practice with this dating stuff, he hoped he didn’t screw up the night and all of what it held for them. 

“Hey, if you cook me dinner, I might never leave” Derek teased, feeling bold with the rush of adrenaline circling his system. The longer they talked, the better Derek felt. 

“You better bring an overnight bag, then” Derek could hear the smile poorly hidden behind Stiles’ words, the teasing, the push and pull he already knew would always be there between them. Derek was really looking forward to tomorrow night “I’m pulling out the big guns. Grandma’s recipes”

Chapter Text

Erica stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Hell, Derek knew how surprising the news was, but she had been staring at him as if he’d grown a second head and Derek was starting to feel uncomfortable. Erica was one of the very few people who knew what had come of his past relationships and, after months of trying to get him to go out and try again, she had learned to give up.

Now, they sat in his office, with her hazel eyes unblinking as she took the news in. He could almost smell the smoke coming from her burning through her neurons. Only when Derek stood to close the window he had opened upon arriving, did she close her mouth, which had been agape for a long while and her eyes moved to follow him as he returned to his seat. 

“Okay. Who’s the lucky fella?” Derek felt a deep blush creep up his neck. Of course, that had to be her first question. Derek had to grant it to her, if he had met someone who remotely interested him, Cora and herself would have been the first people to hear of it. But Derek had never mentioned such meet-cute, therefore he had to admit it made sense she would firstly want to know of their story.

“Haven’t met him yet” Before Erica could even gather enough oxygen to continue with her inquiries and judging by how outraged she looked, Derek thought it best if he jumped in ahead of her. Erica had been kind to him and had done her best to match him with both men and women she thought he’d like, so he knew he needed to reassure her that a blind date could not be better than her best intentions “I had seen him on the subway before and thought he was cute. But I never thought about making a move. Of course, it goes without saying I thought he was cute enough that I wouldn’t mind it if he did. Last night, before leaving the cart, he handed me a piece of paper, asking me out”

“I’m sorry” Erica snorted in pure disbelief. It pained Derek that he couldn’t tell her the full truth. That their short acquaintance actually ran much deeper than he was in liberty of saying. Stiles was the Spark and Derek would be damned if that information ever escaped his lips. No matter who he had to lie to “Did you just say you’re going out with a guy you met on the subway?”

“Technically, we’re staying in and yes, I did say so” Derek couldn’t help but smile. Just as he had vowed to keep Stiles’ secret, he had decided to share as much of what he could with the two people who mattered most to him “He gave me his phone number, Erica. And I called him. I don’t know what came over me, but I sure as hell did. And we spoke for an hour. He was… kind. And funny. And… I don’t know, Erica. I want this. I know you’ve tried for me in the past, but I was never willing. I am now”

His words seemed to calm her. If there was one thing he knew she appreciated in him was his judgement of character, no matter how her faith in him had seemed misplaced at times, but he truly believed that if he said as much, then she would find it in herself to take his words to heart. Her scowl softened and she reached for his hand across his desk.

“As long as you’re happy, Derek. And safe, okay?” Derek couldn’t help but smile. He knew that little word implied many things and he would never accept such implications from any other person if not Erica “What else can you tell me, then? What’s his name? Where are you meeting?”

Derek stood by the sliding metal door of the studio Stiles had led him to. He nervously smoothed down his dark wash jeans with the sweatiest of palms. He figured his usual clothes were too formal. He always chose to wear bespoke slacks and sweaters at work and he doubted anyone would blame him for wanting to leave that part of himself behind. The psychologist would be thrilled to spend another night at home. Derek would much rather play the part of the man who was going out for a change.

It soothed him to think he knew for a fact Stiles wasn’t this kind of person either. And, therefore, if he ever felt too shy about the whole situation, he could count on Stiles to be feeling the same as him. Being nervous was a given, he had to admit. He was about to embark on the strangest, most breathtaking adventure of his dating life. He ought to give himself a break. Though Cora certainly would never, if the entire hour she had spent drilling him with questions during their lunch date was anything to go by.

Derek tightly held on to the expensive bottle of wine Cora had made him buy. Derek wasn’t a big fan of alcohol, given how it had only gotten him into trouble in the past. But he figured this was only the beginning of a night full of indulgences. The mere fact he was standing there was proof enough. Given how Cora had followed in their father’s footsteps and had learned to appreciate the art of drinking sociably, she had been far better suited for finding a bottle her brother could enjoy. If she could make him spend a couple more hundred dollars, then all the better.

He had wanted to call Cora as soon as he had finished his call with Stiles the night before. But, as his thumb hovered over her number on his phone, his mind wandered. So much so, that by the time he returned to Earth, it was much too late to be calling her. So, he had left her a message on her work number, hoping she’d agreed to lunch. He may or may not have mentioned having some news to share in hopes of her complying.

Cora hadn’t shared Erica’s shock, however. She had been ecstatic and hadn’t been afraid to show it. She hadn’t asked questions, however. Cora knew her brother well enough to know he would only share what he thought best and didn’t pressure him in any way. He walked back to his office without doing so much as giving her Stiles’ name. Cora trusted him and, he knew for a fact, would be expecting a full report once he knew more himself.

He had almost broken down, however, after his shower. Stiles had agreed to a later hour, given how Derek would only make it home by eight o’clock. Stiles had had the afternoon free and assured him whatever time was best for Derek was the time that suited him best as well. They would have dinner whenever it was more convenient, which Derek greatly appreciated. Derek stood in front of his closet, staring at the rows of clothes. He always spent so little time thinking of his work clothes he had lost his touch when it came to events such as this one. 

Cora would have been most disappointed in him. He chose, then, the outfit he was sure she would have hand picked for him, had she been there. Cora had impeccable taste in all things fashion related, so he had little trouble finding clothes she would have approved. Now, standing by the door to Stiles’ apartment, he knew he had no choice but to knock. He had arrived precisely six minutes ahead of their scheduled time and said minutes were ticking by. 

Hardly did Derek know Stiles felt the exact same way. His entire career was on the line. No matter how he had been able to tell himself he hoped tonight would be worth it, his stomach was in a perpetual state of disarray. Like the feeling right before the first drop during a roller coaster ride. The food smelled amazing, but Stiles doubted he’d get to have much of it. At least, he hoped that Derek would be able to make the worst of the feeling go away. Stiles looked at the clock above the mantle and took a deep breath. 

But the air never came out. The doorbell rang a soft tune, lasting only a second longer than Stiles would have liked and he ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes scanned the living room and rested on the door to his art room. Oh, how he longed to see Derek there. The idea scared him shitless so that had to count for something. Stiles huffed, shaking the thoughts away. Just open the door, he told himself. The view nearly made his heart stop. Derek’s cheeks were flushed, that was the first thing he noticed. Then he was blinded by the smile directed at him.

Stiles couldn’t help but respond in kind. He moved out of the way and welcomed Derek into his apartment. But the man’s eyes never left his face. Somehow, those piercing green eyes undressed him, right there. Stiles couldn’t help but avert his eyes. It had been such a long time since he felt so seen. Given how he had made a name for himself when it came to never being spotted, he had grown used to living in anonymity. Derek knew and Stiles felt... seen. 

“Here. For you” Derek handed him the bottle and Stiles smiled. Stiles wanted to build his walls back up, but he found he couldn’t. Derek stripped himself of his coat and Stiles swallowed around the knot in his throat. Fuck, how he wanted tonight to go perfect. Derek rolled his sleeves up and Stiles gripped the bottle tighter. How could something so simple be so heightened in his presence? Stiles doubted anyone had ever had that kind of effect on him before.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Stiles chuckled, eyebrow arched in an amused question and Derek knew he meant nothing bad of it. Stiles nodded toward the kitchen and Derek followed, eyes not leaving him. Then the smell hit him. The smell of lamb stew and warm soup took him right back to his grandmother’s house, when he was just a little boy. He couldn’t help but smile at the image it brought back. His siblings, sitting across the floor in front of the fireplace, with bowls of stew in hand.

“I wouldn’t dream of it” Derek rested against the threshold, watching as Stiles stood on his tiptoes to reach for two glasses. Stiles wasn’t short, by any stretch, but still the action was endearing. He made quick work of the cork and soon enough one of those glasses had found its way into Derek’s hand “I will gladly get drunk with you”

“Oh, well. To getting drunk, then” They clinked their glasses softly together and Derek couldn’t help but hold the stare Stiles had bestowed upon him. There was still some awkwardness between them and Derek did quick work of starting a conversation. As a teenager, conversation had never come easily to him. But after years of practice thanks to his rank in society and the sheer will of wanting to please his mother, he had made considerable progress.

“I have no idea what you have prepared for me, but it reminds me of my childhood” Stiles’ smile broadened, eyebrow arched in question as he rested his hip against the kitchen counter “My mother was a terrible cook. Bless her soul, she could barely boil water without causing an accident” Stiles covered his mouth and chuckled, much to Derek’s delight. He wasn’t known for being the one who made people laugh, so this had to be promising already “My father had decided early on that he would only concern himself with his children’s education, so feeding us was grandma’s job. She was a phenomenal cook, you see. Spoiled the hell out of us”

“Come, let’s sit. We still have twenty minutes before dinner’s ready” Stiles had timed it all perfectly, it seemed. And he was happy to have Derek talking. Stiles had an aptitude for taking control of every conversation he found himself in, so he was more than happy to sit on his couch and listen to the man “My mother was phenomenal, as well. In so many aspects. My father wasn’t around much, he was the sheriff in our town. So mom taught me everything she knew”

“I never learned. Though I can fend for myself, I lack every skill a cook should have” Stiles chuckled again and tucked his legs under himself. Something in the way Derek looked at him told Stiles he was desperate to ask questions, but was choosing not to. Which Stiles appreciated immensely. He had had nightmares thinking of how people would react if they ever found out about his identity and he had woken up sweating, drowning in their questions “I would much rather stay perched on a tree in the garden, with a book. Then spend half an hour patching myself up after slipping on my way down”

“Oh, clumsy, were you?” Derek smiled brightly at the laugh Stiles had at his expense. Derek didn’t mind it one bit. He had learned, early on, that laughing with him was better than being laughed at “I was an outdoor child myself. The woods outside our house was my kingdom”

“Are you an only child?” Derek asked, resting his cheek against his hand. The glass of wine lay forgotten on his hand as he all but gave Stiles’ his full attention. Derek didn’t like talking about his family, but he had learned to move around the barriers of trauma. He’d be a terrible psychologist if he hadn’t “I come from a large family”

“I was all by my lonesome, I’m afraid” Stiles sighed, being transported back to his childhood home for a second. He set his glass on the coffee table in front of them and smiled when he noticed Derek still had his eyes on him “I did meet my best friend around that time, however. Scott is the brother I never had and we still talk, of course. Though we rarely see each other, these days”

“I work with my best friend and let me assure you, it can be a lot sometimes” Stiles chuckled, resting more comfortably against the couch. He knew their bubble would burst eventually and Stiles would have to leave to attend to the food before serving it, but he would allow himself another minute of this. Whatever ‘this’ was “I wouldn’t have it any other way, of course. Don’t ever tell her I said anything”

“Your secret’s safe with me” Derek couldn’t help but want to assure Stiles his was as well. But, somehow, he figured Stiles had to know. He had invited him, after all “Speaking of cooking, I will go make sure everything is perfect with dinner. Five minutes, no more than. Make yourself at home, please”

Stiles lifted his eyes from the pot for two seconds to find Derek was now standing, eyes on the murals of pictures he had adorning the walls. Most of them were childhood pictures, though an entire wall was dedicated to traveling and his friends. Derek found it strange that an artist’s apartment was so neat. Though he was sure Stiles had cleaned up for him, he couldn’t help but want a glimpse into the man’s world. 

The pictures helped. In them he saw a smiling Stiles, surrounded by people he clearly loved. He immediately recognized the woman who now adorned his own wall. Claudia. Stiles was the spitting image of her, with the same hair and eyes, same skin even. He couldn’t be more different from his father, who Derek found in only one picture. He spotted the one who had to be Scott, given how many pictures of him there were. A vet, apparently. 

Derek heard Stiles approach and offered to help, but Stiles dismissed him with a smile. Derek was sure Stiles enjoyed this very much, not only the cooking but hosting people. He did perfectly. The table was set with a white linen towel, simple and elegant. They were to sit side by side, Derek noticed. Not friends, indeed. He bit his lip to keep from smiling.

“I present to you my grandmother’s secret winter recipe” Stiles gestured for him to sit and Derek couldn’t help but inhale deeply. It truly did remind him of his childhood, a period of time he hadn’t visited in a long while. It brought forth all the great things about growing up and Derek took a moment to let that wash over him “I wish I could give you a better name, but that was as far as I could translate from her cookbook”

“Translate?” Derek grabbed his napkin, thanking Stiles after his plate was set in front of him. The steam alone would lift anyone’s spirits during winter, absolutely. Stiles poured them water and Derek made a mental note that alcohol wasn’t their agreed beverage. 

“My mother came from a Polish family. That’s where my last name comes from. We all spoke Polish around the house, if only to drive my father crazy at times” Stiles chuckled, choosing to grab a spoon instead of the fork Derek had gone for. The soft layer of rice on the bottom of his plate soon convinced him Stiles had had the best idea “My grandmother couldn’t speak much English, so the entirety of her cookbook was in Polish. But she spoke different dialects, including a few I’m not familiar with. I did my best”

“My father made sure we learned different languages growing up, but I stuck to good, old French. My sister, Cora, always had a taste for all things different, so she chose Mandarin, if only to challenge herself” Stiles was sure he’d love to meet the woman one day. She seemed to be cut out of the same cloth as he was. And he could see just how much Derek worshipped her “Two of my brothers could speak Spanish, so you can imagine the mess our house was at times”

Though Stiles chuckled, he chose not to dwell on his use of the past tense. Derek didn’t seem to notice Stiles had stopped his spoon midway up to his mouth, recovering not a second later. Stiles chose not to bring it up again. They were already in the business of secrets, so he figured Derek was entitled to having some of his own.

Their meal went by amazingly and smoothly. There was no topic they didn’t cover and Stiles had been shocked to discover what Derek did for a living. He had prompted the man to forget all about cleaning the dishes and they resumed their place on the couch, this time with Derek detailing his time in college and opening the clinic.

“I knew this was what I wanted to do early on” He had shrugged “I… went through a lot when I was a teenager and I had the best help money could buy. I wasn’t joking when I said my family was rich. But the help was still lacking, so, in college, I decided to do something about it. The Hale Center opened for business less than three months after graduation. Two of my close colleagues, who I admired greatly, chose to come work with me. As did Erica, of course. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with our finances. Soon enough we outgrew our first office building and now we are located just outside town, on Hamilton Hill”

“Of course, I remember reading about it” Stiles had read about the innovative rehabilitation programs Dr. Hale had successfully implemented within the Center’s daily activities. Dr. Hale was sitting on his couch. A doctor. Derek didn’t look the part at the moment, but he remembered the suits and sweaters he had seen the man wear on many occasions. He was happy to get to see him in something else “The work you do has been laying ground for new programs so I would think it’s safe to say you’ve achieved your goals”

“Thank you. Though I am hardly the one who deserves the credit” Derek chuckled, running a  hand through his hair. This was the third time he did so and, though Stiles was sure he didn’t do so on purpose, it was also the third time Stiles found himself wanting to do it himself. Just reach across and pull at the strands softly with his own fingers. He longed to see Derek’s reaction “I have an amazing team and staff. People who share my views and who love what they do just as much as I do. I doubt there’s anyone more fortunate than me”

They sat in silence for all of a minute. Not because they no longer had topics to cover or because either of them had said anything offensive. Quite the contrary, Derek couldn’t remember the last time someone had matched him, both in opinion and wit. But the words that came out of Derek’s mouth shocked Stiles. He sat there, in stunned silence. He was sure Derek had already learned it to be quite difficult to strike him speechless.

“I bought one of your paintings. Your latest one” Stiles couldn’t even blink. That piece of information suddenly left him feeling so incredibly vulnerable Stiles had forgotten how to move. Derek knew, then. Knew about his mother. Stiles watched as fear crossed those green eyes, probably upon noticing Stiles’ reaction to his words. Stiles felt raw under the stare of those eyes, no matter how he didn’t find any harm in them “I wanted to tell you last night, when we spoke on the phone, but it didn’t feel like the right moment. You know I’m a fan of your work, but we agreed to talk of anything but the Spark. But you’ve told me so much about your family and I’m just sorry I didn’t mention it sooner”

When it was clear Stiles was still too stunned to reply, Derek sighed. He really hoped he hadn’t screwed this up. Stiles would have found out, eventually, he told himself. But he internally cursed. Maybe this hadn’t been the wisest choice of time to be so open. But hell if he wasn’t going to try. He closed his eyes and let himself be truthful. As truthful as Stiles had been in his letter to the gallery. As truthful as he had been with the painting.

“The truth is, I lost my family a long time ago. There were eleven of us, in total. My parents and my eight siblings. And I made a mistake. A terrible, juvenile mistake that cost me more than I can ever pay” Stiles had already snapped out of his own trance, shocked to see the pain in Derek’s eyes. He had used the past tense when speaking of brothers and now he had learned that Derek indeed came from a huge family. He couldn’t fathom what could have happened to them. But Derek shortly filled him in and it took all the power inside him not to cry out in utter terror “I fell in love with a woman much older than me. She was unstable and didn’t appreciate how my parents interfered in her plans. I was their eldest son and heir, so they couldn’t have me with someone they didn’t approve of. So, she did the unthinkable. She killed my family”

Derek opened his eyes to find Stiles covering his mouth with his hand. There was a whirlwind of emotions playing in those golden eyes and Derek huffed. Stiles was the first person to hear about this, apart from his closest friends. And sure enough that was an appropriate reaction. But, now that he had started, Derek chose to finish it. For better or worse, he hoped Stiles would understand why he had felt compelled to come clean about the painting. Hopefully he understood how much he related to it.

“Cora and I weren’t home that afternoon. We were the only ones who survived. There were fifteen people in the house in total, before she set fire to it. Our parents, siblings, uncle and cousins. Gone, just like that. The years that followed are a blur of pain and depression and I refuse to burden you with details about them. Cora is the light of my life, as I’m sure you’ve gathered already. I was on my way to meeting her when your painting was being delivered at the gallery. I read your letter and I don’t think anything has ever brought me to tears that fast”

Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle, though he closed his eyes at their shared pain. He bit his lip when Derek smiled, glad to see the air wasn’t so heavy anymore between them. They were speaking of difficult truths and he was happy to have the chance to explain himself.

“I wanted to buy the painting on the spot, but that strong willed lady arm wrestled me into the auction instead” Stiles' eyes sparkled at this piece of information and his smile only grew at the thought of Derek bidding on his painting. So he had been the one. Then the sum came back to him. Jeez. Derek had spent a million dollars on his painting. He had joked about his family’s fortune, but Stiles couldn’t imagine something so grand. He wasn’t scared by the thought of his money, given how Derek seemed to be so down to Earth. His parents had done a great job raising him “But I got it in the end. I hope it’s okay. I love it. It’s breathtaking. After I saw it, I couldn’t bear to see it belong to someone else”

“I’m glad you have it” Stiles found great surprise in his own sincerity. The piece had brought back so many memories he had been glad to see it gone, but he had never thought of what it would evoke in other people. Having heard what Derek had to say, now knowing more about the man than he had ever dreamed of, it gave him great joy in knowing it would be looked after. Who knows, maybe he’d even find the strength to look at it again one day “It’s perfectly okay. I just… took me by surprise, that’s all. This is very new to me, letting someone in on my secret. I never thought it could be this exhilarating”

While on the topic of exhilarating, Stiles stood. He left his glass forgotten once more on the coffee table and kicked his shoes under it. He had long since discarded them and was happy to see Derek follow his example. With his hand extended, Stiles pointed his thumb toward the apartment.

“Come. There’s something I want to show you” 

There wasn’t much to see that required a tour, so Stiles had decided to cut it short and get to the one room that really mattered. One vision alone had convinced him to show Derek who he really was and that was getting to have said man among his unfinished drawings and paintings. Stiles had chosen this very apartment because he could transform what should have been an office into a studio, of sorts. Large windows took up two of the walls and Stiles had great lighting no matter what time of day inspiration hit him. 

It had quickly grown to be messy, though Stiles hardly did a thing to tidy it up. Clean canvases were piled up against one another on the far wall, with shelves and shelves of supplies taking up the remaining one. There was a large work desk, mainly covered by drying projects. By the window, he saw an easel, with a half-done portrait of someone Stiles had invented in his mind for that damned school assignment. There was a stool, though Stiles had to admit it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. 

When Stiles opened the door and led Derek through it, the man immediately stopped and looked at him. Almost as if asking for permission. Derek had wanted to refuse that part of the tour, no matter how his curiosity flared up at the mere prospect of getting to see more of Stiles’ world. He had found himself liking the man too much for something like this. It felt too soon. Stiles had wanted for Derek to get to know him, so why now?

“You certainly can’t think me wicked enough to let you in on the secret, only to prevent you from snooping around” Stiles had a glint of pure mischief in his eyes and Derek dared to think that yes, Stiles certainly was that wicked. Though Derek was glad not to be on the receiving end of it “Besides, I know you want to ask. It’s fine by me”

“I promised tonight would be about you” Derek found himself whispering. They had barely made it past the threshold and there was very little space separating them. Stiles had to adjust himself to look up into Derek’s eyes and found the air being softly stolen from him “It’s entirely possible that I did a poor job of showing you just how much I like you. You don’t have to show me to keep me interested. I assure you I am”

Stiles would have laughed at Derek’s choice of posh words, but he couldn’t possibly tease the man when he spoke such nice things. Stiles felt the blush that took over his cheeks and, given how Derek took to examining his face, now that it was so close to his own, he knew Derek had noticed it as well. The corners of his lips curved up in a smirk and Stiles wanted to kiss it. In the name of all he held dear, he wanted to kiss this man.

So he did. He didn’t even have to take a full step forward to close the distance and was immensely rewarded with Derek inhaling deeply. They were so close Stiles could feel how their eyelashes touched and they kissed with enough force that the tip of Derek’s nose poked him quite harshly. But he didn’t mind. Derek’s hand found his hip, soon enough circled his waist entirely. Stiles allowed himself to finally run his fingers through Derek’s luxurious hair and smiled into the kiss with the moan he swallowed.

When they pulled apart, their tongues refusing to break their connection so soon, Stiles did his best to commit his taste to memory. Derek’s stubble had left his chin feeling pleasantly tender and he wanted to have that feeling all over. He smiled at the thought and, enjoying their height difference, hid his face against Derek’s neck, kissing his Adam’s apple. Derek kept him locked in an embrace and didn’t seem more inclined to let him go than Stiles was to pulling away.

“As lovely as that was and as much as I would love for it to happen again” Derek huffed and Stiles’ felt the tip of his long nose touch his own “I would still like for you to look around. You’re the only one who knows and, given everything I learned about you tonight, I’d like to hear what you have to say. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I assure you I’m just as interested”

Derek smiled and softly moved Stiles' head until their lips connected again. Eventually, Stiles moved to rest against the threshold, arms crossed as he watched. Watched Derek as he read labels on the shelves and his long fingers touched the drawing pencils he'd forgotten to put away since last using them. Derek saw that the one thing that seemed out of place was the computer set up next to a printer on the furthest corner of the room. He didn’t think Stiles studied there, but since he was an art major, what did Derek understand of his methods? He spent a great deal of time admiring the finished pieces stashed to the side, eyes taking everything in until they rested on the canvas still on the easel.

"And who's this fellow?" Derek couldn't help but compare the art in front of him to the sketch Stiles had made of him. Derek hadn't felt the urge to ask anything about it until that very moment. A pang of jealousy ran through him and Derek hoped Stiles hadn't been watching him with as much attention as he seemed to be "Competition?"

Stiles couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh. Laugh as he finally moved inside the room and circled the table until he stopped behind Derek. Derek looked at him with what appeared to be a happy glint to his eyes when Stiles circled his waist from behind. Derek was surprisingly all hard muscle, under his clothes. And so very warm as well. Sure, Stiles had figured Derek had to work out and all, but it was still a surprise. A nice one, indeed.

"You have nothing to worry about. This canvas is for a project for my Impressionism seminar. I had to sketch someone, but let's just say I didn't feel like sharing you with my classmates" Derek huffed. So Stiles had sketched him out of pleasure. The man staring at him from the canvas didn't match with his own face in the slightest. Almost as if two completely different people had drawn them "I don't do faces. It's not my thing. Which is why this project is still undone, no matter how close my deadline is"

"So why me, then?" Derek turned in their embrace, letting his fingers brush through Stiles' misbehaving locks. His hair wasn't cut to be so unruly, but Derek was happy to see him like this. Unworried about making a good impression. Derek had spent half his life with people trying to fall into his good graces by pestering him with vain compliments. It was refreshing to find Stiles was anything but "Why sketch my face?"

"I had never seen someone with a face quite like yours before" Derek's gorgeous features turned into a frown and Stiles laughed, resting his forehead against Derek's chest for a moment "Da Vinci was the first painter to ever speak on facial symmetry. He created the patterns and standards we look for in what you could call 'the perfect face'. You, Dr. Hale, have what the great artists call the perfect face. And, in my humble opinion, I can do little but agree with all of them"

"How long did it take you?" Derek knew it was useless to try and pretend his cheeks hadn't been tinged with what felt like a permanent touch of pink. Stiles spoke with such reverence it was hard not to get lost inside those golden eyes. Derek had never imagined he'd be able to take such a heartfelt compliment. He had always shied away from them. But he couldn't. He didn't want to. Because it would mean stepping away from those arms and Derek couldn't bear that thought.

"In total? Two hours, I would say" Derek arched his brow at Stiles' crinkled nose, as he tried to calculate an accurate amount of time spent "Plus the twenty minutes it took me to make adjustments. I drew you from memory, which isn't my favorite thing to do. I would much rather have you pose for me. I got some things wrong, I'm ashamed to admit. Mostly your eyebrows. I couldn't possibly sign my name under an imperfect sketch”

Derek chose to ignore what the meaning of ‘pose’ represented. Flashes of himself sitting on that stool, with Stiles’ eyes free to roam his body ran through his mind and Derek didn’t want Stiles knowing the blushing now came from those thoughts. They both turned to the incomplete canvas and Stiles sighed. Derek couldn’t help but smile at Stiles’ distaste for the project. He also couldn’t help but notice none of the projects were signed by the Spark. This was all Stiles. What seemed to be hundreds of paintings and drawings occupied that room and Derek felt honored to be let in.

“As for the Spark, it all started in this very room. Shocking, I know. I’m careful not to leave any evidence of it out in the open” Stiles gestured toward the computer, softly shaking the mouse until the screen came alive. He clicked a few icons and soon enough a folder remained open “This computer is solely for that use. It’s password protected and you’d have to find your way through a maze of empty folders and misleading files in order to find my Spark stuff. Even I get lost sometimes”

Stiles gestured for Derek to take the chair and his eyes grew impossibly large. Stiles was letting him have a look. For the second time, Derek’s eyes flew to his and Stiles nodded, smiling. He softly gestured to the chair with his chin and Derek sat, almost as if he were sitting at an exam with the entirety of the answers memorized after buying them from another student. He felt like he was doing something incredibly wrong and yet it was exhilarating. 

Hovering over him, Stiles showed Derek everything. The process behind previous sketches, all while explaining how he went about buying supplies and sneaking around town to complete works that took up so much space. Stiles showed him the art for the flyers from a few months before and told him just how much he had hated the work with spray paint. They had shared a laugh at the telling of Stiles coming home with ruined clothes and how he had to buy a new set of towels. Red spray paint just doesn’t come off easily.

“I had the idea for the movement long before I had a name for it. Of course, I had no idea people would grow so fond of it and support it as they have” Stiles sank on the couch once more, feeling light. Derek knew. There. He knew everything. And Stiles felt raw, like an exposed nerve. And it felt good. He had been lying for months now and it felt amazing to come clean. He took great pride in his work and, during the first few weeks, with all the media coverage and speculation, it had been hard for him to remain anonymous. It had almost gotten to his head “My mother used to call me her Iskra, which is Polish for Spark. It fit, you know? I wanted to spark change in the world and in people, so it seemed perfect”

Derek sat next to him on the couch once more, only much closer this time. It was incredible to think how much things had developed between them. And how right it felt. Derek had seemed shy at first, but had been so open with him Stiles couldn’t help but appreciate him for being there even more. His hesitation in entering his world had laid any doubt he had to rest. Stiles wanted him. Wanted this to work. 

Derek had no idea where the courage to do what he did next came from. The last thing he wanted was to rush this, when it felt so new and promising. They were so similar in some ways and vehemently different in others. There was a push and pull between them and the banter roamed free in between the lines of their conversations. It wasn’t something that came naturally to him, talking to people. He had sometimes found great solace in hardly ever having to pursue a partner. He let people come to him, the few who tried, of course.

And, in minutes, he’d turn them down. They all lacked, somehow. Lacked the brains to keep up with him in conversation, or didn’t even share a single topic of interest with him. Common ground had always been what he believed brought people together, if his parents’ relationship was anything to go by. His parents had been promised to each other from birth, what with his mother’s position and his father being the heir of his family. Their love had grown from being more similar than they had initially thought. 

Though his parents had never pressured him to date and, Heaven forbid, settle down without being certain he felt even the smallest attraction to said person, Derek hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking the things they had said to heart. He didn’t want to marry someone out of interest. After the fire, he had been pressured by the society circles his family belonged in to find a wife. A wife! Derek had scoffed at the silly remarks behind his back and had moved onto college and making sure Cora had nothing but the best.

Over a decade had passed and he hadn’t settled yet. Neither had Cora. His family’s state and wealth were his, along with side businesses and many people had questioned his ability as a guardian to his sister to make sure she lived up to their expectations. At twenty-four, she should have been long married. He should have been an uncle by now. And yet, Derek had assured her, time and time again, that she was under no such pressures. Neither was he. Her happiness was all that mattered to him.

Their money had protected them, Derek was sad to know that. People respected their name and titles too much to ever say those things to his face. It wasn’t, however, until he had made a name for himself, that the rumors stopped. Dr. Hale wasn’t a title you mess with. Not in New York City’s high society. Thalia Hale’s son had done right by his family and that was all that mattered in the end. 

Though Derek would never admit to it, many of Erica’s chosen champions had followed in on the footsteps of the people Derek had grown up with. Ever since being out in society, as the sole heir of the Hale klan, Derek had been surrounded by people who wanted his money and connections. It had narrowed his circles immensely. He didn’t trust people, no matter how well Erica meant by them. 

Which was why it had been such a shock for him to accept this date. Stiles being the Spark aside, Derek had feared his name and money would either change the way Stiles treated him or scare him away. The amount of money he had spent on his painting surely hadn’t helped his case, but there was no changing it. Derek was rich, had grown up in a wealthy family. And it was such a relief when Stiles didn’t bat an eye at his last name or his grand gesture. It was incredibly refreshing to have found someone like him.

He found himself staring into those golden eyes and brought Stiles in for another kiss. The man was his to do with what he wanted, Derek noticed. Stiles was compliant and moaned softly against his mouth. His fingers tangled themselves into his hair and Derek sighed, pulling him closer. He hadn’t made out with someone in so long he felt out of practice. But, if Stiles shared the opinion, he didn’t show it. In fact, he pushed Derek down until he was laying on the couch and followed his mouth not a moment later.

The kiss soon enough grew heated. Derek closed his eyes and let his hands roam Stiles’ body. Through the shirt he wore, Derek felt lean muscles and soft skin. Said skin, he wanted desperately to touch. Stiles’ hands were on the couch for support, leaving him wanting for his touch. But Derek settled for doing the touching himself. Stiles smiled against his neck, his tongue rubbing softly against his stubble as Derek let his shirt roll up a bit.

Stiles moaned against his chest, softly biting his pec when Derek’s hands met his skin. Stiles was burning hot under his palms and Derek groaned, wanting nothing to separate them. Which was why he smiled when Stiles pulled away completely, sitting on Derek’s lower abdomen to peel out of the shirt. The fabric landed on the ground soundlessly and Stiles guided his hands to him in a soft gesture of permission.

Stiles closed his eyes and enjoyed this. Enjoyed being touched with such hunger and care. Derek kept his hands steady in their trail, his nipples soon victims of his ministrations. Stiles smiled, biting his lip as he let his eyes meet Derek’s again. Derek’s lips were parted and his eyelids were heavy with pleasure. Derek groaned when Stiles shuffled, the bulge in his pants just as large as his own. Stiles smiled, bending again to capture his mouth.

Swift fingers acted quickly and soon enough Derek’s belt was on the ground. Derek had been too lost in his haze to notice what was happening, but he soon came back to reality. His thoughts must have been clear on his face, because Stiles stopped, running his fingers through his hair, concern overtaking his eyes.

“Too much, got it” Stiles tried to stand, but Derek didn’t let him. It was a lot, indeed, but Derek would be damned if he walked away from this. If Stiles was willing, then to hell with all of his doubts and fears. He wanted the man far too much to let himself back down now “Derek…”

“I want this” Derek spoke before Stiles could protest any more. Derek reached for his hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing each knuckle patiently. His blood was still pumping much too fast, but he couldn’t possibly take his eyes from the sight on top of him. Stiles was beautiful and funny and loyal and Derek wanted him. He wouldn’t fail to tell Stiles just how much “Just promise me a second date and I’m all yours”

Stiles’ face lit up. A smile threatened to split his face in two and he bent forward, happy to swallow the groan Derek let out upon his body shifting on top of him. Oh, he wanted more of that. He wanted to make Derek come undone and he wanted to own every little sound Derek was willing to give him.

“Deal”

Chapter Text

Stiles could easily get used to waking up with a smile on his face. The cool tip of Derek’s nose brushed gently against the skin of his neck and Stiles groaned, letting his hand climb to the man’s hair. Derek left a trail of open mouthed kisses against his neck and Stiles was positively aware of his body hovering inches from his own. Stiles felt absolutely and deliciously sore and relaxed, all at once. It had been a while since he had allowed himself to be taken like he had the night before and he had been happy to let Derek be the one.

“Please tell me it’s still very early and we can enjoy this” Stiles mumbled into the dark room and was rewarded with Derek’s soft chuckle. It wasn’t until Stiles circled his hips that Derek let their bodies touch and Stiles moaned at their nakedness. He would have blushed at his own erection, weren’t the friction between his and Derek’s bodies so good, the man above him gladly returning the groan of pleasure “I’m not ready to leave this bed just yet”

“By my calculations, we have just enough time to drag this out a little more” Stiles couldn’t help but throw his head back when Derek applied more pressure. Their cocks slid together and the friction made his eyes shoot open. Derek’s mouth never moved far from his neck and Stiles pulled at the strands of his hair, nails digging into his naked shoulders “Is this okay?”

“Yes” Derek had asked the exact same question the night before and Stiles had answered in kind on both occasions. Derek had a special talent for turning him on with mere words or soft touches and Stiles found out he’d be willing to throw caution to the winds any time Derek merely looked at him. Which was why he circled Derek’s hips with his legs more tightly and pulled him even closer. Derek growled against his neck, making Stiles giggle in delight.

Derek allowed himself to forget everything that existed outside Stiles’ bedroom. They had moved there the night before and Derek had been more than happy to stay once Stiles asked him to. He forgot all about meetings and scheduled appointments. Forgot about the party he was to attend this weekend upstate and everything in between this moment and the next time he’d get to see Stiles. All that mattered was the man under him.

Derek moved barely enough so he could wet his palm with the precum already leaking from his own cock and use it to lube himself up. The feeling of Stiles’ dick against his own was good, but harsh. So, he spit on his hand and wrapped a hand around their cocks. Stiles bit his lips, exposing his neck even more to Derek’s hungry mouth. Derek could see that the skin was becoming tender and pink and he did his best not to aggravate it even further. 

Stiles matched his pace thrust for thrust and soon enough, the two of them panted in unison. Dawn was rapidly approaching and light slowly spilled into the room. The rays of sunlight illuminated Derek’s skin and his eyes were no longer sharp, but molten, the heat of their passion causing them to grow darker. Derek was by far the most handsome man Stiles had ever seen and he would never dare ask what he had done to get his attention.

With their foreheads touched together, Stiles kept his eyes open as Derek’s orgasm got closer. There was something magnificent in watching Derek cum. The way he closed his eyes and squeezed whatever part of Stiles he had found. Stiles felt the cum pool against his navel, making him smile at the heat. Derek gritted his teeth and hid his face against Stiles’ neck. His hips didn’t stop, however. Even though his cock had softened after cumming, he kept going, using the cum and heat to throw Stiles over the edge.

They remained in each other’s embrace until they were able to control their breathing. But the serenity of the moment was broken the second the piercing cry of a phone ringing was heard from the living room. Derek groaned, leaving a kiss to Stiles’ collarbone before untangling himself from his arms and legs.

“That would be Erica letting me know I’m already late” Stiles barely had time to admire the gorgeous sight of Derek’s ass as the man walked toward the living room to find his phone before jumping from the bed at the sight of his alarm clock. He still had time, but it was already much later than he would have liked it to be.

Stiles walked into his bathroom, wetting a part of the hand towel and cleaning himself up before the cum dried. He walked into the living room to find Derek folding their clothes, with his phone against his cheek and shoulder. Derek smiled at the sight of Stiles, who walked up to him and took it upon himself to clean Derek as well.

Stiles bit his lip through a smile at Derek smiling, looking up at the ceiling, as if begging to find the strength to resist him. Stiles took his time, teasing him, not that Derek tried to stop him. Quite the contrary, actually. Stiles heard him talk to who he assumed was Erica about the day’s schedule and smiled at Derek’s eyes rolling. By the time he hung up, Stiles had only been standing there, arm loosely hugging Derek’s waist.

“I’m sorry we don’t have more time” Derek spoke, leaving his phone to open the Uber app while he reached for his clothes. Stiles sighed and moved to let the man get dressed. His class wouldn’t start for another hour, but he understood Derek still had to go home and change before making his way to the outskirts of town, where the clinic was located “I owe you breakfast, at least”

“Worry not, Dr. Hale. You have already made my morning, if not my entire day” Stiles gladly received the kiss Derek pulled him into. Within minutes, Derek was good to go, looking just as presentable as he had the night before. The only indication of their nightly activities was his hair, which seemed hell bent on misbehaving this morning “Besides, you have more than proven yourself capable of distracting me, and I have less than twenty four hours to finish getting ready for this Saturday’s seminar. But, since we have both agreed to a second date, how about I hold you to said breakfast on Sunday?”

“There is a rather boring event I must attend tomorrow night, but it surely won’t be half as bad if I have you to look forward to” Derek spoke through a large smile and Stiles was very pleased with himself for being the reason it was there. Derek circled his waist, pulling him closer even though he ignored the notifications from his phone “Text me the time and place and I’ll be there. Have a good day today”

“You too” Stiles walked Derek to the door and smiled into the kiss he was pulled into. It was sure going to be an amazing day, alright.

“You are half an hour late” Erica spoke, though Derek didn’t detect a single drop of reprimand on her voice. In fact, she quickly followed him into his office, closing the door. Derek was well aware he had less than ten minutes before his first meeting of the day and he still needed to turn his computer on and get himself a cup of coffee. Today had been one of the rare occasions he had had someone drive him to work and he had to admit it was much more comfortable “In all the years I’ve known you, not even a harsh cold could keep you from arriving on time. Tell me it’s because of last night”

Derek stopped what he was doing and rested his hands on his hips. The look of pure delight and expectation on her face made sure he couldn’t be angry at her for asking. His spirits were still soaring high in the sky and he couldn’t help but want to share his good mood with his friend. A smile started tugging at his lips and Erica covered her mouth, her laugh echoing down the hall in spite of the closed door.

“It is! Oh, my God, finally!” Erica laughed wholeheartedly, standing up and coming up to hug him. Derek wasn’t one for open displays of affection like this, but he allowed it. Erica had been like a sister to him since the day they had met and he knew all she wanted was to see him happy. Which went both ways, of course, though he had promised to stay out of her asking their coworker out. Derek wanted her to be happy, but had never said a word apart from that day on the subway “I’m happy for you, Derek. Really”

“Thank you. But the details are going to have to wait, because like you said, I’m late. Tell Abigail to get me a cup of coffee, will you? I need to get my notes before the meeting starts” Erica nodded, promptly making her way toward the door, though Derek called her name once more. He had been typing his password into his computer, but lifted his eyes to hers “And, hey. Don’t think I forgot about you asking Boyd out. We’re not done talking about that”

Derek had barely gotten out of the shower before noticing the texts that had come in. He had spent over an hour on the phone with Stiles that morning, while Stiles waited for his turn to present his work, but it hadn’t been enough. Conversation still came easily to them and Stiles had told him all about the seminar results and his plans for the evening. Derek had told him about the party he’d been invited to, along with Cora. Derek wasn’t one for this kind of event, especially since he was under the obligation of going. 

But knowing he could reach Stiles made the night seem bearable. Cora, obviously, was the perfect dancing partner and he split his time between exchanging pleasantries with people he barely knew and dancing with his sister, who was always kind enough to accompany him. If he checked his phone a few too many times throughout the night, no one seemed to notice. Cora had just been making her way back from the powder room when she squeezed his arm a little too tight, the device almost falling from his grasp.

“Isn’t Justin Thibaudeau the name of that fancy French doctor you wrote your Master’s thesis on?” Derek couldn’t possibly imagine how Cora remembered the name, given how she had never once cared about his academic endeavors. Cora had been his number one supporter when it came to the clinic, but she was far from well versed in the world of modern psychology. Still, he nodded at her, wanting to know what could have caused her to look so flustered “Well, he’s here. Tonight. It’s all the women gossiped about in the bathroom. Name sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until they spoke of him being a psychologist, that I remembered”

Not a moment later, Derek was called by one of his colleagues from college to meet the man. They crossed the dance floor, with Cora on his arm. Though he had no idea what to expect from him personally, Derek still would have prefered to meet him at a different time and place. The music and the people made it hard to conduct conversation. And the way the man had his eyes on Cora surely didn’t help his case at all. 

“Dr. Hale, what a pleasure! I was so honored you mentioned me in your thesis, such fantastic work, indeed” Derek was a little taken aback by the compliment. He had never expected the man with far more knowledge than him to know about his Masters. The man’s handshake was firm and he spoke with close to no accent to his English. Derek barely had time to thank him before his education kicked in and he introduced Cora “Ah, Miss Cora Hale, the fashion designer. My niece is a great admirer of your work”

Derek had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Though he trusted Cora’s innate ability for spotting good and decent men, it didn’t mean he had to stand there and watch her melt under his gaze. He wouldn’t put her through that with Stiles. The thought alone shook him to his core. He was by no means dating Stiles, no matter their plans for the following morning. Derek was still surprised to think of himself introducing Cora to him. Though Stiles had proved to be pretty much perfect all around, that was a step he had never taken with anyone before.

He couldn’t help but smile. Derek felt happy. Stiles had made him happy. He wouldn’t be cruel as to deny his sister the same feeling. And so, he stood there, watching as Dr. Thibaudeau asked Cora to dance, holding her purse. If anything, at least he’d have plenty to tell Stiles in the morning. Noting the time on his phone, only then did he notice a text from Stiles, wishing him a good night. It was well past midnight and Derek decided not to disturb him in case he had already gone to bed.

In the car, on the way home, Cora had her head resting against his shoulder. Derek knew she wasn’t asleep, given how her bare feet were tapping along to the soft music playing from the speakers. He rested his cheek on top of her head and squeezed her hand.

“I think it’s safe to say you have a new admirer” Cora chuckled, lifting herself from her comfortable position to look up at him. Derek could never find a man to be worthy of his sister, but he wasn’t blind to what made her happy. That was all that truly mattered to him “He didn’t take his eyes from you after I introduced you”

“He was very charming. And a good dancer too” Cora bit her lip and she seemed lost in thought for a moment. She shook her head softly and rested back against his shoulder. Derek had long since given her his jacket and she snuggled further into it, ready to doze off the rest of the way to her apartment “But I don’t know, Der. He could have asked for my phone number, but he didn’t”

“His loss, then” Derek kissed the top of her head, passing his arm around her. Cora chuckled, too tired to say anything else.

Derek had been surprised to see a ‘J. Thibaudeau, M.D.’ scheduled two days later. He had been on the phone with Stiles upon entering the clinic and was running his eyes through his appointments for the day when he saw the change for his two p.m. 

“Derek? Am I bugging you?” Derek shook himself out of the feelings, walking the rest of the way towards his office. His secretary had already left him his mail and his computer was already on. She was going to come in with coffee any time now “You just stopped talking for a few seconds”

“No, of course not. You could never bug me” Derek ran a hand through his fingers, missing Stiles. The man giggled on the other side of the line and he found himself missing that sound in person all the more. They hadn’t seen each other since Sunday, given their crazy schedules, but had plans for dinner that night “Remember the doctor I told you about? At the party on Saturday?”

“Yeah, the one who didn’t get Cora’s phone number. We shall not speak his name” Derek chuckled, knowing that sentence alone would get him enough points with Cora to last him a lifelong friendship with her, no matter what happened between them “What about him?”

“I just checked my schedule and he’s my two p.m. appointment today” Derek grabbed the sheet of paper again, just to make sure he hadn’t misread the information. But his certification number was registered and everything, which meant he had called and had the meeting scheduled “Which he wasn’t yesterday, I can tell you for sure. I wonder what he could want”

“Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask Cora out. Because he planned on doing business with you” Derek had to admit that idea sounded plausible and reasonable. He pondered on it for a moment, but soon decided against it. He had other patients to see and lunch to have with the kids, so he chose not to dwell on it much longer “If anything, you’ll get to ask him today. Are we still on for tonight?”

“Absolutely. Pick you up at 7?” 

After half of a very productive day passing him by in what felt like a blur of motion, phone calls and appointments, Derek found himself at a complete loss for what Dr. Thibaudeau could possibly want. He hadn’t expressed any interest in Derek’s work, given how he hadn’t engaged him in conversation on Saturday and hadn’t given his sister much hope either, with how he said his goodnites as soon as their dance was over.

He welcomed Dr. Thibaudeau at precisely 2:02 p.m., not wanting to leave him waiting. The man was renowned in their field and, in spite of all the questions Derek wanted to ask, he wouldn’t dream of disrespecting him. Dr. Thibaudeau was wearing a suit almost as fancy as the tux he sported at the party, having remained standing in the waiting room. Derek had chosen the art on the walls carefully, to evoke peace and tranquility, but had never expected to find anyone actually looking at them.

“Please, call me Justin. May I call you Derek?” His name was the first word Derek heard even the slightest hint of an accent on and could imagine Cora would think it was cute. The man was very handsome, and clearly a decade older than Derek. His handshake was just as strong as Derek remembered and he soon enough followed Derek further into the clinic “You have built a fantastic rehabilitation center, I was just reading more on it”

“Thank you. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine, actually. I have an amazing staff, who is just as passionate as I am” Derek gestured towards the walls of pictures that decorated the hall opposite from his office. Though the clinic had been painted in bright shades of colors and Derek made sure to keep the activities in their own respective rooms, he had never been averted to the idea of previous patients and team members leaving their mark on the walls. Which was why they had an entire wall dedicated to art made by their patients and pictures of the staff during said activities. 

“But why mention me, then? You work mostly with children and teenagers, am I right?” Derek nodded, leading the man further down the hall. The house they had built had been designed to accommodate over two hundred full time patients and Derek guided Justin to see the home quarters, the kitchen, the cafeteria and the exit to the gardens “Though I’m positive your arts program would be beneficial to patients of all ages with all kinds of trauma, I don’t see how my work relates to yours”

Derek spent the next hour explaining why he had connected with Justin’s work. He briefly explained his own trauma with sex and family and how his work on the effects of poor sexual development in the early stages of a man’s life could be detrimental to character building and later to self image and self confidence. Justin proved to be a good listener, as all psychologists tended to be, not once interrupting Derek through his narrative.

“I hope you don’t find my bluntness rude, Derek. I’d like to apologize for leaving so abruptly on Saturday. Now that I know a little more about you, I’d like to ask your permission to ask your sister on a date” Derek’s shock must have been right on his face, because Justin softly huffed, his hands clasped behind his back “Call me old fashioned, I guess. Well, I am old, I suppose” Justin spoke, laughing. Though Derek couldn’t barely manage a scoff, he was still so surprised “I would have asked on Saturday, but I was raised to do these things a certain way. If you say no, then she won’t hear from me. I will understand”

Derek took only a second before replying. Though Cora had done her best to shrug off his rude behavior, Derek simply knew her all too well. She had liked him and, even though Derek’s first instinct was to tell him to fuck off for hurting her feelings, Derek would never stand in the way of her being happy. If Justin would do right by her, then he had Derek’s blessing.

“I give you my permission to call her. As for her agreeing, there’s not much I can do to persuade her. You’ll learn soon enough no man could ever force Cora into anything she doesn’t want” Justin had a large smile on his face, clearly relaxed now that the topic had been dealt with “But, if you were to take her to that nice Italian restaurant on the corner of Madison, she’ll hardly say no”

Derek sighed as he rested against the car. His driver stood a few comfortable feet away. He had decided to try having a driver for once, given how he remembered having one as a child and how Cora still partook in that practice. It was certainly better than the subway. Though he was grateful for Stiles, he couldn’t deny it. Mr. Reynolds had worked for their family for many years and was thankful for the promotion to personal staff member. Derek’s penthouse required work, even though he was the only person living there full-time. He had a housekeeper and plenty of security, also a cleaning team and a personal assistant he had never needed until the clinic opened. 

He had quickly learned that Stiles didn’t give a shit about his money. Didn’t give a shit about what clothes he wore, or the university he had gone to. All he cared about was Derek and how well they fit together, on a physical level, but also to an intellectual extent. They could talk for hours, about nothing in particular and never feel like more than five minutes had passed. Derek had never found someone like him and was more than happy to do whatever he had to in order to keep him. 

Something told him, a little voice in the back of his mind, that that was way too much power for someone to have over him. But he told himself he deserved this. After all the misfires and disasters he had faced, he deserved something good. And that something was walking down the steps to his apartment building, with a huge smile on his gorgeous face. Stiles was all long and lean, such a nice contrast to Derek himself. He wore jeans on a daily basis and wasn’t bothered by the paint stains on his hands. Derek loved his unruly hair and every mole adorning his skin. Derek had made him giggle not two days before by kissing as many as he could find.

Stiles seemed ready to hug him right then and there, but saw Mr. Reynolds stood there and seemed to choose against it. Derek smiled at his confused expression and made the first move, for a change. He moved away from the car to encircle Stiles’ waist, pulling him close. Stiles seemed relieved that touching was still okay, arms around Derek’s shoulders. Derek hid his face against Stiles’ neck, softly rubbing his beard against the soft skin. Stiles sighed, squeezing him in return. 

“Mr. Reynolds will be accompanying me for a few days, while I test this having a driver thing” Stiles arched his brow, but figured he shouldn’t be that surprised. He had always wondered why a man with the means and money like Derek would take the subway to work. Though it had added to his charm at the time, Stiles figured he couldn’t hold it against him for his change of heart “Don’t worry, he’s well paid to keep my secrets, as is all my personal staff”

“So, if I were to kiss you…” Derek chuckled and pulled away, arms still securing Stiles to his chest. Stiles was almost an entire head shorter and would have to stand on his tiptoes to kiss Derek, but neither of them seemed to mind. In fact, Derek very much appreciated the fact, for some reason. It brought out all the protectiveness inside of him “... that would be okay?”

“More than okay” Derek gladly let Stiles pull him down and connect their mouths. They had spent two whole days apart and Derek promised he would try to avoid such a thing in the future. He could stand in that very second forever. With Stiles’ warmth tight against his own body and his mouth open for him to take. There wasn’t much else he could want “Speaking of okay, I think it’s only fair you see my place. Since you’ve shown me yours”

“Already trying to secure a fourth date with me, Dr. Hale?” Stiles threw his head back and laughed that wholehearted kind of laugh you can’t help but laugh along with. His hand moved to Derek’s hair and his fingers softly ran through the strands. Those golden eyes were bright with delight and Derek would do anything to keep him looking that happy “I would love to. But… I’m not sure I’m ready to see the painting again, Derek”

The whispered words surprised Derek for only a moment. It had been insensitive of him to suggest such a thing, even though he hadn’t even thought about the painting before speaking. It made sense, of course it did. Stiles’ mother wasn’t a topic he liked talking about and Derek would be damned if he put Stiles through something like that. That very idea went against everything he hoped for them and Derek didn’t care if he had to take the painting down for now. 

“Then you won’t see it. Not until you want to. Promise. Cross my heart” Stiles smiled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Derek pulled him closer, leaving a kiss to his forehead. Derek didn’t have to look at Mr. Reynolds for the man to understand what should be done. He merely turned to the car and the door to the backseat was already open. He led Stiles to it by the hand and let him get in first “How about this Saturday? I work until two, then I’m all yours”

“You work on Saturdays?” Stiles asked with surprise. He hadn’t stopped to think about Derek working before the party he had had to attend. Then he immediately thought back to the hour they had spent on the phone that morning, with Derek keeping him distracted before his presentation and couldn’t help but feel guilty with taking so much of his time “Did you work last Saturday? Because jeez, the last thing I wanted was to keep you from your job”

“No, don’t worry” Derek smiled, nodding at Mr. Reynold to take them to the restaurant Derek had already informed him about. The radio was playing some soft tune, though Derek couldn’t identify the song or artist. The kind of music that made the charts these days wasn’t the kind he liked listening to, if he were being honest. He reached for Stiles’ hand, happy to have the man intertwine their fingers “I don’t work most Saturdays, but I do have patients that can only see me one Saturday of every month, so I make the exception. I was at home when we spoke. But tell me, what did you get up to today?”

Stiles ranted for a few minutes about a teacher he hated and shortly told him about the fight that broke out about their graduation ceremony. Derek made a note to ask more on the topic. Derek still remembered his own graduation and how uneventful it had been. If he could stop Stiles’ from going down the same path, then he certainly would. Stiles then moved on to telling him about going on a supply run on the way home and his frustration upon not finding the pencils he wanted. 

By the time they had arrived at the restaurant, Stiles had already voiced how he couldn’t rely on the university for supplies like he used to. Art programs were rarely sponsored these days, which was why he was so thankful that the Spark had taken it upon himself to try and change that. Derek had earned a wink and a smile from Stiles and Derek saw another side of the movement he hadn’t thought of before. It made him think of his own arts program and how he had supported it out of his own pocket until the clinic could afford it.

Stiles wasn’t surprised to be led inside a rather nice restaurant, of a type of cuisine he didn’t immediately recognize. But he was surprised that the maitre recognized Derek before he spoke. And to top it all off, Derek called him by name in return. Stiles could only imagine how much Derek frequented the place. The atmosphere was rather open and bright for a restaurant serving dinner, but Stiles found he liked the place quite a lot. It was well decorated and evoked a lot of tranquility in him. And whatever they were cooking smelled amazing.

“Your usual table is ready for you, Dr. Hale” The man guided them through the half full room, to a more secluded table set for two at the very back. It was right by the largest window and Stiles was thankful they would get some peace and quiet during their dinner. It wasn’t their first outing, per se, but Stiles was overtaken with butterflies in his stomach at the fact that Derek didn’t let go of his waist for a second as he let him walk first “How about a bottle of wine while you inspect the menu, Dr. Hale? We’ve made quite a few changes since you were last with us”

“Not tonight, Jacob. Cora is the drinker, but don’t tell her I said that” Derek turned to Stiles sitting across the table from him and smiled. He was happy to find Stiles’ cheeks were flushed and he smiled brightly in return. Derek paid attention. He wasn’t a drinker and the fact that Derek remembered meant a lot to him “How about some sparkling water while we look through those changes? Ice for you?”

“And lemon, please” When Jacob, their waiter nodded and retreated to the kitchen, Derek didn’t reach for the menu in front of him right away. Instead, he reached for Stiles’ hand, thumb caressing his knuckles, one by one “Pardon my stating the obvious, but you come here a lot”

“I do, with Cora” Derek smiled, the same smile that always took over his face when speaking about his sister. This was why Stiles had always wanted siblings. The love, protection, partnership and care that came with such a bond had been denied him and Stiles felt robbed of the experience “She has her favorite place, this is mine. They serve Greek food here, but it’s not as intimidating as it sounds. I… bought it a few months ago”

“You… you own this place?” Stiles couldn’t help but keep the shock evident on his face. Derek shrugged, chuckling. He kept a soft grip on Stiles’ hand, finger playing with his longer ones. He was particularly interested in a blue stain in between his thumb and index finger “Is that why you call each other by the first name?”

“Oh, no. Jacob has been treating me like this for a long time now. The chef was an old friend of my father’s. This place is much older than it looks” Stiles nodded, looking at the build with a different set of eyes. He tried imagining a younger Derek sitting on that table and could understand buying it, if it held such a meaning for him “It wasn’t until about six months ago that he told me the place was about to declare bankruptcy. And I… I wasn’t ready to let go of all the memories I have of this place. Birthdays, Cora’s first kiss. So, I made an offer. I have no idea how to run a restaurant, so I leave it up to them. I brought in investors and the place has been doing really well since then”

“Please, do tell where the business gene comes from” Derek chuckled, happy to have Stiles’ hand grip his in return. Stiles rested his cheek on his hand, elbow on the table as those golden eyes seemed to take him in for the first time since Sunday “Does Cora also run her own business? Is that a Hale thing?”

“Coincidentally, Cora does run her own business. We were never taught to pursue such a thing, though” Derek shrugged again. He had never stopped to think of himself as a businessman, though the term ‘businesswoman’ absolutely applied to Cora. But he had to admit nothing else seemed to fit. Though he was a psychologist, first and foremost, he had to admit he’d stop at nothing to get to keep the things he loved. He was just happy to have the means to achieve it “I suppose mom is to blame. She shouldered the burden of an arranged marriage, her first child and the management of her family’s state at seventeen. I guess that’s why we were all overachievers”

“What do you mean, an arranged marriage?” Stiles had thought such a thing had ended a century ago, but if Derek’s mother had had her first child at seventeen, and Derek was the second oldest, she couldn’t have been more than forty at the time of her death. To think of something happening not less than fifty years before seemed like such a distant possibility, but he had no reason to distrust Derek.

“My parents both came from rich families. Their parents belonged to the same circles. That means: same clubs, same restaurants, same sororities. They thought it would be advantageous for them if their kids were to wed one day. Luckily for them, fate would have it they would have the perfect match: a boy and a girl, of roughly the same age” Derek’s eyes focused on their hands and Stiles then knew it was hard for Derek to open up about his family. Though Stiles was thankful he did, he wished he could find the words to tell Derek the last thing he wanted was to hurt him by asking questions he didn’t want to answer. Especially when he had been so keen on not letting him face his mother’s portrait if he didn’t want to “So, they were promised to each other, from birth. Married at sixteen and had my sister, Laura at the early age of seventeen. Dad hardly ever spoke of this period. He told me after much insistence on my part. He always said he hated talking about the time he had been too stupid to see the amazing woman my mother was”

“But they were so young, it was hardly his fault” Stiles was relieved to see a smile back on Derek’s face. Stiles tried to think about it for a moment. Not getting to choose who he married or when he wanted to have children. He couldn’t imagine giving up control like that, even if to his own parents. The thought of sleeping with someone with the sole intention of having an heir was shocking to him.

“I know. But I also know it was all they knew. They hadn’t been raised to think they stood a chance at love outside the bonds of the contract” Derek had always thought of himself as selfish, because he was thankful for Laura being the first to be born. And also that his family was more than happy to train her as the heir to the Hale family. But Laura’s health had proven unsteady and Derek was soon named the heir of the klan. He still remembered his father sitting him down for that talk “I don’t know when exactly they started to care for each other, but I suspect I had already been born. My grandparents died not long after Cora was born and, with three young kids of pretty much the same age, ther marriage was strained, at best”

“Excuse me for asking, but why have the three of you? If this was an arranged marriage and an heir would have sufficed, then why have three children when they didn’t want to?” Stiles asked, hoping he hadn’t overstepped any lines.

“All clauses in a contract, I’m afraid” Derek sighed, clearly lost in his own mind “Though I never felt any less loved by either of them, we were all just clauses in a contract, for a while. Laura, Cora and myself. We were born long before there was any love between them. Mom was under so much pressure after inheriting so many responsibilities she failed twice to conceive. So, they decided to stop until she had better control over things. Dad had his own fair share of duties to his side of the family. It wasn’t until they stopped fulfilling their marriage on paper that they realized they had things in common and voila, love bloomed”

There was such a large smile on Derek’s face that Stiles couldn’t imagine how much had changed in their lives after his parents truly started loving each other. Though Derek clearly believed he was dearly loved by both of his parents, it was different, it had to be. He was born out of a contract, that had to be weird.

“Which is why I guess mom and dad never raised us like they were raised, much to grandma’s disappointment. Laura’s health deemed her unfit for the role of heir, so I was trained from an early age to take over the family one day” Stiles arched an eyebrow at that. Derek spoke with such nonchalance about the matter, as if such a weight falling on his shoulders had truly been nothing. And Stiles had to imagine it wasn’t. For someone with as much power as Derek, he could only imagine how different his upbringing must have been “They raised us to find our own partners in life. They vowed the arrangement of marriages would end with theirs and you don’t know how thankful I am for that”

They would have never met otherwise. Or, even worse, might have met but Derek would have turned him down. Because he would have been promised to someone else. Jeez, Stiles couldn’t help but shiver at the idea. And something about Derek’s smile told him he knew it wasn’t from the cold. Derek lifted Stiles’ hand to his lips and planted a kiss to it, ever the gentleman.

“But enough talking about these things. I assure you, there is much more to tell when one grows up among New York city’s high society, but we can leave those adventures for another day” Stiles took a deep breath and nodded, happily jumping onto the prospect of ordering their dinner. There was, in fact, something else he wanted to discuss with Derek “I’m afraid I already know what I want, even if there were so many changes. What would you like?”

Chapter Text

Derek couldn’t find it in himself to sleep. His mind kept wandering back to Stiles every time he closed his eyes. Derek had been trying to sleep for the past two hours, but found he couldn’t bring himself to do it. All he thought about was Stiles. Derek had no idea what Stiles… well, the Spark was up to. He had chosen not to know. Part of the fun was the surprise. Which apparently required two duffel bags and a bunch of goodies Derek had seen Stiles sneak into his studio.

But it wasn’t the art aspect that was keeping Derek up. It was the sneaking part. Derek had known from the start that there would always be a chance Stiles could get caught. And the charges were pretty damn serious too. But he tried not to think about it. He really did. Stiles had promised he’d text Derek once he arrived home, safe and sound and Derek sighed, getting up from the bed. He figured he wouldn’t sleep until Stiles did so.

And his day too. What a great pile of shit it had been. His profession was dictated by people’s bad days and they usually didn’t affect him. But this one did. This kid… this black-haired, bright eyed seventeen-year-old boy really got to him. Derek had been less than a year younger than him when Kate… when his whole life had changed. And ever since meeting Stiles, he had taken to speaking of his family almost daily. He hadn’t done that since forcing himself to do so in therapy. Of course, Stiles never forced him to do any of that talking. That was all Derek. But he only did so because Stiles never judged him, or probed for more. He would just kiss Derek and swiftly change the subject.

Cora hated talking about them. She had never blamed Derek for what had happened, not once. And, even though she had also attended therapy, her issues didn’t run as deep as Derek’s. She had gotten back on her feet, no matter being barely eleven at the time. Once a year, maybe, she’d get drunk and call him. Or drive to his apartment and cry. She’d sob into his chest and he’d just hold her. They had only spoken openly about their family once, and Cora had actually slapped him when he tried apologizing. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Derek. You are my brother and I won’t let you blame yourself for what she did”

At twelve, Cora was far more mature than he could have ever been at that age. She had been his rock through so much, it had taken Derek a long time to learn how to walk on his own two legs. But seeing himself on that boy sure as hell had brought forth a lot of the demons he tried so hard to bury everyday. And it was easy, when he had work and friends. And Stiles, of course. But today, he had been alone. Stiles had been busy with his newest Spark project, all Cora did on the phone was gush about her date with Justin and Erica had finally asked Boyd out. Everyone was… happy. He wouldn’t allow himself and his shit to be the reason the most important people in his life were forced to handle the mess he felt like.

Instead, Derek sat in his office. He briefly looked at the wall where the ‘Claudia’ once was. Ever since that talk, the wall had been bare. Derek had safely stored the painting, until Stiles told him explicitly that he wanted to see it. They had barely been seeing each other for a month now. And though they had plans for Stiles to come visit, Derek wasn’t going to hold his breath. Stiles deserved to have all the time in the world to decide what he wanted.

Derek sank on his chair and opened the first file in front of him. He had some notes to write down and decided to take that time to do so. He would probably regret it in the morning, but for now, there was no point in going back to bed. He figured he’d never sleep in it as well as he did whenever he shared Stiles’. It was just different. 

Before he knew it, his phone started buzzing. Derek took a second to breathe, closing his eyes. Where that nervousness had come from, he didn’t know. But the relief he felt was enough to keep him on the chair, weak in the knees.

“I’m already on my way home, doc” Derek sighed, nodding. The action was clearly more for himself than for Stiles, obviously and it helped let the information sink in. They had plans for the following night and Derek couldn’t wait to get his hands on the man. Make sure Stiles was in one piece. Preferably with no clothes on that body “Oh, man. Imma be beat tomorrow”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing my bed has your name written all over it” Derek couldn’t help the tired smile that appeared on his face at the sound of Stiles’ laughter. If he focused enough, he could hear Stiles as he loaded the trunk of his car, which Derek had suggested he rented for the night. He had offered the one Mr. Reynolds drove, but Stiles was adamant on keeping his private life as separate as possible from the Spark. Then Stiles groaned, softly moaning into the phone.

“Don’t talk like that, Derek or I’m gonna turn this car around, mister” There was truth behind Stiles’ words, Derek could tell. One word from him and Stiles would be there. And fuck him, if that wasn’t exactly what Derek needed. He liked sleeping with Stiles. He slept soundly, all through the night and always woke up with a smile on his face. That kind of shit was addicting and Derek needed his next fix “Is everything okay?”

“I always sleep better when you’re there. I… all of it is better when you’re there” Stiles stopped trying to slide the key into the ignition, picking up on the tone change to Derek’s voice. Derek had texted him about how shitty his day had been, what with one of his patients going through tough times, but there hadn’t been much Stiles could do about it. No matter how much he had wanted to. But maybe it had affected Derek more than the man had led Stiles to believe “Today was… I haven’t thought about it since getting home, but… this kid reminds me so much of myself it hurts, you know? I don’t think of my family when you’re here. I mean, I do, but not… not like that. And I miss you. And I was worried about you tonight and I… just wish you were here. I know we have plans for tomorrow, but…”

“Derek” Derek stopped rambling, stopping his hand from covering his mouth. The sound of his name had been almost sharp, only barely loud enough to get his attention and he heard the car turn on the other end of the line, but before Derek could try and make some sense of everything he had just dumped on Stiles, he beat Derek to it “You should have told me. Fuck, Derek… Screw having plans, I’m on my way”

Derek woke up to the sharp scent of coffee and toast. The bed was still warm. Derek took a moment just to take a deep breath. This was not how he had planned on Stiles getting to see his place. But there the man was. Cooking him breakfast, bare feet in his kitchen. Derek walked out of the hallway to find Stiles humming to himself, wearing nothing but his t-shirt. 

Stiles smiled brightly at him, too. Stopped whatever he was doing and met Derek halfway. Arms around his neck in the tightest hug they had ever shared. Somehow Stiles knew that was exactly what Derek needed. Breakfast and a comforting touch. Stiles touched their foreheads together for a moment and, when Derek tried to open his mouth, somehow sensing it was to apologize, Stiles shushed him softly.

“We don’t have to talk” Stiles softly bumped their noses together, smiling up at Derek. Stiles ran his fingers through Derek’s hair, scratching at his scalp slowly, making Derek immediately close his eyes “Just know that I’m here. Right here. You don’t have to tell me, not unless you want to. And never apologize, you hear me? Just trust me to be here when you need me”

Their night was perfect. No matter the rough night and the surprisingly nice start to his day, Derek dropped Stiles off at his university building, after they had spent the entire morning tied at the hip. Stiles hadn’t let Derek out of his sight, which meant they had had breakfast together and even shared the shower. Derek could most definitely get used to that. Somehow, knowing he had Stiles to look forward to was just what he needed to get through the day.

Given how Stiles had already returned the car he had rented, he should have known Derek would pull something like this off. Stiles had just locked the door to his apartment when he spotted Reynalds, standing near that beast of a car Derek let the man drive. Mr. Reynalds politely smiled and held the backseat door open for him. Stiles couldn’t help but smile greeting him. He thought about texting Derek about letting himself spoiled, but he decided against it. It was exactly what Derek was doing and Stiles not-so secretly loved it.

Unlike the night before, or even that morning, Stiles finally had more time to pay attention to the building Derek lived in. After deciding he was going to spend the night at his place, Stiles had used the garage entrance, once Derek informed the building security that he was to be let in. The elevator had taken him straight to the penthouse, where Stiles walked out into a small foyer. Nothing about it had captured Stiles’ eye. But tonight, things were different.

Even the garage had a sitting area, so nicely decorated Stiles believed some of those pieces actually belonged in museums. The same night guard as the night before greeted Stiles as one would a royal and Stiles felt his cheeks flush. This was all so strange. He couldn’t imagine being treated this way every single day. And maybe it was out of respect and politeness, but Stiles was willing to bet he just didn’t want Stiles to have something bad to say about him.

But how could he focus on any of that when Derek had been resting against the threshold when the elevator door opened? He looked better, Stiles noticed. Throughout the day, Stiles had felt uneasy about not getting to be close to Derek. Which was ridiculous. Derek was a grown man. But Stiles told himself what he felt was totally normal. He cared about Derek. And the night before had been… incredibly educational. 

Unlike tonight, Derek hadn’t greeted him. Stiles had called his name multiple times, only to find Derek sitting on his bed, head in his hands. Stiles had immediately knelt, touching the man however he could. Derek had his eyes closed and had said nothing. He had moved in the blink of an eye, pulling Stiles into the bed with him. Stiles barely had time to kick his shoes off before Derek cuddled him and didn’t let go.

But the man in front of him looked relaxed, fresh from a shower. Derek wore nothing fancy, just a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt. Bare feet, Stiles noticed. There was something so incredibly domestic about the whole thing and Stiles couldn’t help but smile, letting himself be pulled into those arms. Derek sighed, breathing Stiles in as soon as they hugged. Derek didn’t seem to care he had to bend forward to do so. 

“Hey” Stiles whispered, feeling how damp Derek’s hair still was. Derek’s large hand was wrapped tight around the back of Stiles’ neck, holding him in place. As if there was any other place Stiles would rather be. It was incredible to think only a month had passed. In four weeks, Derek had become so important to him Stiles could barely breathe sometimes. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey” Derek sighed, squeezing Stiles a little tighter before pulling away. Stiles’ hand slid to his cheek, where his thumb caressed his stubble. Derek rewarded him with a soft, tired smile. Despite the hours of sleep he managed to get once Stiles laid in bed with him, the stress from the previous day really had taken its toll on him. Thank fuck for the weekend ahead “Come in”

Derek took his time helping Stiles out of his coat. He arched his eyebrows at the package Stiles carried, but chose not to ask. He had learned that if Stiles wanted to share, he would do so when he felt ready. While Derek hung Stiles’ coat by the closet to the far left, Stiles finally allowed himself to look around. And the apartment proved to be as magnificent as the bits and pieces he had managed to see the night before.

To his right was the kitchen, the part of the apartment Stiles was most acquainted with. And it looked straight out of his most exquisite dreams. Straight ahead was what Stiles would call a sitting area, since there was no tv. But he figured that was a choice Derek had made. The wall furthest from him was actually all windows, so large Stiles figured they had been custom made. They were tinted, probably to control the rays that entered, not for privacy, given how there were no neighbors in sight.

The dining table to his left was long enough to accommodate twelve people. But what really caught his eye was the empty wall that led to the hallway. He had barely acknowledged it the night before, turning the corner to find Derek’s bedroom. But tonight, he noticed how plain it looked. With Derek sliding his arms around his waist, realization hit him. His painting belonged on that wall. Well, shit. The wall was in plain sight and was the perfect size for the canvas. 

“When you’re ready” Derek whispered and Stiles felt himself melting into the man. He closed his eyes, allowing his hands to climb up to Derek’s hair. Stiles hadn’t been lying when he said he was happy Derek was the one who had his mother’s painting. And he had a hard time finding the words to express how much the understanding of his pain meant to him.

“Thank you for giving it a home” Derek chuckled softly into his ear, leaving a kiss to Stiles’ neck. Stiles turned in Derek’s embrace, done with looking at that bare wall. The painting he had made still burned behind his closed eyelids and Derek was a much better view anyway. Stiles returned the hug by encircling Derek’s waist and they both stood there, hugged, both well aware nothing could make that moment better.

“Speaking of giving thanks, I realized when I got to the clinic that I never thanked you for what you did for me last night” Stiles wanted to say it was nothing, that anyone would have done what he had. But he knew that wasn’t true. Derek wouldn’t have felt comfortable with letting just anyone into his home and mind like he had the night before. Whispering in between the sheets that he was sorry, with Stiles shushing him to sleep “Just… thank you”

“It’s okay. I’m just happy I was here for you. I’m sure it didn’t do much, but I was here” Derek rested their foreheads together, which must really hurt his neck. But he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, Stiles was willing to bet Derek was finally relaxing. He was home, ready to chill the entire weekend. And Stiles wanted nothing more than to add to that feeling.

“It’d been a long time since something triggered me like that,” Derek said with a shrug, almost as if trying to create some excuse for what had happened. And excuse himself was the last thing Derek needed to be doing at that point “I just didn’t want to bother anyone with my shit”

“I can’t speak for other people, Derek, but you’re not a bother. Not to me. You should have told me, okay? You have to tell me. Otherwise I would’ve gone home, unaware of your pain and imagine how shitty I would have felt when I found out about it” Stiles sighed, moving his hand to cup Derek’s cheek. Derek immediately closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of his palm. Stiles couldn’t imagine it, being so touch starved. Even without his parents, Stiles had found solace in the company of his friends. He had never needed this kind of romantic involvement. He had had plenty, but it was different. Derek… Stiles couldn’t imagine it “What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to tell me things, unless you want to. But you can always count on me to stop and listen, to comfort you if you need it. That’s what I’m here for”

Derek knew something was wrong the second he walked into Stiles’ apartment. The man simply opened the door and gestured for Derek to get in, all while holding his phone between his shoulder and cheek. Derek kissed his face, but noticed Stiles was far from him. With attentive ears, Derek made his way to the kitchen, where he placed the bags with the things Stiles had asked him to buy for dinner that night.

“I know! It’s ridiculous! What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!” Derek arched an eyebrow, removing his coat and throwing it over the couch. Stiles paced the living room, with his free hand pulling at the strands of his hair. He looked sincerely distressed. Stiles scoffed at whatever the person on the other end of the line said in response, closing his eyes and shaking his head. In disbelief, Derek guessed “Listen, I gotta go. I guess I’ll see you on Monday”

Derek stopped emptying the bags when Stiles entered the kitchen. Stiles smiled tiredly, gladly walking into the embrace Derek pulled him into. Derek’s hands seemed to find every knot in his back and Stiles sighed, letting him hold all of his weight. The stress of the day he had had was too much and he was happy to have Derek there. Not so he could vent, but to be able to share this frustration with him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Derek whispered, leaving a kiss to Stiles’ temper before looking into his eyes. Stiles sighed, pulling away for a moment before looking up into those soft green eyes. Stiles didn’t think Derek would ever understand just how much he appreciated being asked if he wanted to talk about this. Sure, Stiles had been adamant on Derek sharing only what he wanted, but it was still nice to know he was being shown the same respect and consideration.

“Not really, if I’m being honest. But, sure. Apparently, our arts program is being shut down” Derek’s arms stopped on their way to Stiles’ waist, the man looking surprised at the news. Stiles nodded, focusing instead on Derek’s collar, which was disarranged from removing his coat. Stiles fixed it, with deft fingers and smoothed his hand down Derek’s shoulder “Yeah. Somehow, NYU lost its biggest sponsor and my division will be shut down for lack of funding”

“But if that happens, won’t you lose all the credits you’ve accumulated so far?” Stiles closed his eyes, nodding. Yup. It really was that shitty. Derek opened his mouth, trying to find something to say, but what could he, really? Short of finding a new sponsor, there wasn’t much they could do. And art programs weren’t considered that great investments these days.

“We’ve created an event online, to try and convince other companies to sponsor the program. Many of my classmates are venting online and starting up fights and I’m not about that, so…” Stiles threw his phone on the couch and moved to get started on dinner. Derek had called earlier and had asked for the list, since he would be getting off work earlier than he had previously thought. And, right now, Stiles needed to keep himself busy “Part of me wants to sign the Spark as my extra credit work, but how the fuck would I explain that? And also, it’d be considered a crime and I’m not about going to jail either”

Stiles had been reluctant to join the meeting in the auditorium. Partially because it felt more like a pap rally than a peaceful protest. Also, there was just no freaking point. What could they do? Where would they find an investor willing to give them a couple million dollars? People didn’t just go around donating that kind of money. It’d be a fucking miracle and they needed nothing short of one.

But he was also intrigued. The school had called for this meeting. Once he caught that piece of information, he had locked his stuff into his locker and had joined the mob on their way to the auditorium. Upon entering, the place was a mess. There were hundreds of people, all trying to speak louder than the next group. Stiles stood on tiptoes and tried to spot a familiar face. He had just had a free period and had no idea where his friends were. 

He saw, then, a hand waving above other people’s heads on stage. He’d recognize those stains anywhere. Stiles swiftly made his way towards the stage, which was packed. Considering there were people sitting on the steps, he just climbed right on. Isaac, his best friend at school, came over to offer a hand, but Stiles was already on his feet by the time he found his way through the crowd. 

“Looks like the entirety of the arts department is here” Isaac squeezed his arm and pulled him toward their closer group of friends and colleagues. Stiles said hi, unable to ignore how Isaac was squeezing him. It was way too early in the morning for this. Derek had distracted him from his coffee and, though it had been awesome, Stiles certainly felt the effect of that now “Will you stop that?”

“Sorry, I’m tense. There’s talk of an investor, Stiles. Apparently, someone donated to the school” Well, that was new. And fast. Not even twenty-four hours had passed yet. Stiles tried to make sense of the commotion, but everybody was just too loud. And Isaac seemed too nervous to give Stiles more information. Stiles couldn’t blame him. Or anyone. Every single student there had just as much to lose as himself.

Soon enough, the director of the arts division walked in. The room felt silent not a moment later. Miss Giovanna wasn’t the kind of woman people fucked around with. She was a tall woman, with the most piercing blue eyes Stiles had ever seen. And she wore her pantsuit like body armor. Stiles admired her greatly. She had been there when he had first applied to NYU and had been very supportive of his work. 

“Settle down, kids. We don’t have much time to chit-chat, so I’ll just get right to it” Stiles felt the tension in the room like a living being. Every single person had their eyes glued to her, hanging on her every word and the silence was heavy. Whatever the words she spoke next, had the power to change the course of their academic lives for the rest of the semester. In Stiles’ case, decide whether or not he graduated in a few weeks “Some of you already know what I’m here to say. How that happened, I’d rather not know” There was snickering all around and the director tapped her shoe for silence. Miss Giovanna was a dancer and well, people paid attention when she asked for it “The arts department has a new sponsor”

The mess that followed would have lifted anyone’s spirits. Stiles saw relief in many faces and figured his wasn’t much different. He let the news sink in. He was still going to graduate, months of hard work hadn’t been for nothing. And the Spark would remain a secret. Soon enough, he’d have that much more time to dedicate to it. He couldn’t wait to tell Derek about it. 

Of course, the next words the director spoke stopped Stiles from reaching for his phone. People asked for silence and Stiles lifted his eyes in time to find that there was more to the story than their happiness.

“The sponsor has chosen to remain anonymous” Stiles arched an eyebrow. Well, that didn’t make that much sense. What was the point of it? Being among the sponsor list for New York City’s biggest cultural and academic hub would look good on anyone’s resume. And Stiles knew other people were thinking the same: what the hell? “Apparently your dedication to sharing your grief online has spoken to a great deal of people and bright and early this morning, we received a call from this sponsor, who is willing to finance the entirety of the department for the foreseeable future”

Stiles stopped paying attention after that. No. It couldn’t be. Nope. He refused to believe it. Derek… Derek had been on the phone that morning. Stiles had just gotten out of the shower and his eyes had found the clock on the nightstand upon noticing the man out on the balcony, with his coffee in hand. He had shook his head, smiling. He had thought it to be Erica, bothering Derek with his schedule, like she did most mornings. But now…

Stiles found the nearest exit and walked out into the empty hallway. He couldn’t begin to understand what any of it meant. If he were right, of course. But something told Stiles he was. He knew Derek to be a man of big gestures, what with the way he treated Stiles. The dates, even the painting. When Derek wanted something, he stopped at nothing to get it. And if he wanted to make Stiles happy, he would do just that. 

Stiles faced the rest of his classes without his usual level of interest. Nothing seemed as interesting to him as the man who seemed to own his mind today. He sat through lectures, with his phone in hand. He wanted to text Derek, ask him for the truth, but he didn’t want Derek to think his gesture wasn’t appreciated. It just… was far more than Stiles could ever thank him for. Stiles made his way to his usual subway station with his head in the clouds. He thought about going home or even meeting Derek at his place, but when the train upstate was announced, he didn’t think twice.

“Derek? I… I can’t believe I’m about to say this…” Derek took his eyes away from the file he had been reading to look at Erica. He had just returned from a meeting and was using his free time to catch up on the progress of his next patient, but found himself putting his mug down. Erika had a smug smile on her face and didn’t even bother entering his office “... but there’s a Stiles here to see you…?”

The shock on his face must have been evident, given how Erika laughed. Without doing much else other than smooth his sweater down and standing, Derek didn’t say anything. Oh, boy. This could only mean one thing. Stiles knew. It had been stupid of Derek to think Stiles wouldn’t connect the dots immediately. Derek had wanted to be the one to break the news, in person, but well. 

Derek found Stiles standing in his waiting room, eyes cast down. He had seen that behavior plenty of times, but he didn’t like the way it looked on Stiles. His boyfriend. They hadn’t talked about labels. It seemed so... stupid. They were together. There was no discussion there. But, somehow, Derek felt like reminding Stiles of that fact. That, yes, Derek was willing to do anything to make Stiles happy. Derek rested against the threshold, taking him in. 

Stiles wore the same clothes as that morning, with his school bag thrown over his shoulder. His hair was a mess, from the wind Derek had to guess and his fingers played with the ‘visitor’ badge attached to his lapel. Derek decided to put him out of his misery. He cleared his throat and soon enough he had those golden eyes all to himself. He moved from his spot, walking further into the room.

Derek had been afraid of what he’d find in those eyes he loved so much, but all he found was… appreciation? Fondness, perhaps? Derek didn’t quite know. But seeing that Stiles didn’t feel angry at him was a relief. The last thing he wanted was to cause their first fight, over something that was meant to make Stiles happy. A smile tugged at his lips and Derek sighed. So far, so good.

“Though you’re welcomed anytime…” Stiles reached for the hand Derek let out for him and took the step forward Derek pulled him into. It wasn’t intimate, per se. But it wasn’t professional, either. Derek didn’t seem to mind, what with the way his green eyes seemed to swallow all of Stiles. For a second there, it was so damn easy to forget they were in Derek’s work place. It felt so… theirs Stiles had to keep himself from full on melting into him “... I can only think of one reason for you being here. Today of all days”

“I don’t want to bother you. I just… I was making my way home, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day and…” Derek smiled, shushing him softly. Derek used his free hand to pull Stiles closer by the chin. Barely holding back from moaning, Stiles went into the kiss with greedy lips. Derek took his time, surprisingly. If there were other people around, Stiles was thrilled to learn Derek didn’t care who saw them “Derek, I…”

“Hey, it’s okay. Come here” Without ever letting go of Stiles’ hand, Derek guided him through the same hallway he had come from. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Stiles was taking it all in. The beauty of the space and the tranquility it evoked in him. But, for the time being, he needed to be alone with Derek. There were so many things swirling through his head, he needed to get them out “Abigail, put Stiles on my priority list, will you? You won’t be needing this”

Stiles followed Derek’s hand and watched him take the ‘visitor’ badge from his coat. He softly tossed it on the counter, winking at who Stiles supposed was his secretary. The woman watched them with clear interest and some surprised amusement too. Derek smirked at the blush climbing up Stiles’ cheeks. Immediately Stiles recognized Derek’s office. Not thanks to the name on the door, but because it seemed to be decorated to feel like an extension of his home. It was very welcoming and bright, homey and quiet. Very private too.

“Well, that’ll give them plenty to give me hell for” Stiles had barely tossed his bag on the chair when Derek started talking. He wanted nothing more than to know this Derek, the renowned psychologist, but it was hard to do that when the man he saw was the same one that had made love to him that morning “Being on my priority list, I mean. Cora has been the sole inhabitant of that list since I opened this place, so I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of this”

Stiles could do very little, other than kiss the man. Derek chuckled, hugging Stiles back and letting him have his way. Stiles held onto that kiss for as long as he could. He really didn’t want to bother Derek at work, but every inch of his body tingled with want and he feared he’d come undone if Derek let him go. Which, thankfully, Derek didn’t do.

“I can’t believe you did this, Derek” Stiles sighed, resting their foreheads together. But Derek didn’t let him pull away. Just as Stiles needed to be close, Derek craved his touch. Derek had been well aware his action could have backfired. And he was extremely relieved to see it hadn’t “How could I possibly thank you?”

“For you? I’d do anything” Derek’s hands did their best to try and tame the mess that was Stiles’ hair and he smiled, seeing the man close his eyes at the touch. He could see the happiness in his relaxed body, the way he sighed with relief. Derek had given him that. It was all he wanted, to see this man happy. The high it gave Derek wasn’t one psychology could even begin to explain “Never forget that”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, pulling Derek in again. Derek’s arms hugged him closer, almost crushing Stiles against his own body. Not that Stiles minded, really. If anything, all he wanted was to become one with the man, right there. Of course, such desire would have to wait. Derek sighed against his wet lips, clearly sharing Stiles’ need for more. But he pulled away, nonetheless.

“Come on, let me show you around” Derek moved around his desk, picking the files he needed. Stiles watched in awe as Derek typed rapidly into his computer, then set it to turn off. He grabbed his files and a pen, using his other hand to hold the door open for Stiles. But before he could do so, Stiles squeezed his arm. 

“Der, I’ve already taken enough of your time” Derek’s smile only seemed to grow bigger. It was endearing how much Stiles cared. And it was infuriatingly adorable how he insisted in thinking he could ever bother Derek in any way “We can meet up later”

“Nonsense. You’re already here. Besides, I had already been planning on kidnapping you for the night anyway” Stiles smiled, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. Derek arranged his collar for a moment, before pulling him in for another kiss by the strap of his bag. Stiles had that same kind of mischief in his eyes and Derek would be damned if he ever allowed Stiles to look anything besides how happy and relaxed he looked in that very moment “And I don’t plan on ever returning you”

Stiles made himself a little nest. Derek had shown him around the facility and he was damn sure he’d get lost, weren’t it for the dozens of directions strategically placed on the walls and floor. Derek’s last appointment of the day was in a completely different building of what Stiles learned to be a compound, not a clinic. Though the whole construction had the same built and decor, it was impossible to miss the more hospital vibe this side of the compound had. 

Derek had explained this particular patient had a history of violence, so he was kept away from the others. Stiles squeezed his hand tight before letting him go. Derek winked for a brief second, walking through the double doors into the dorms and exam rooms. As for Stiles, he grabbed himself a hot chocolate from the nearest machine. Each waiting room was equipped with anything that could make the waiting part easier. A television with the actual control available for you, coffee machines that served actual good quality stuff. Plenty of quality reading material and even toys for the kiddos. Derek really had thought of it all.

Stiles didn’t even have to go far to find a plug for him to charge his phone. His class text chain spoke only of said sponsor and Stiles made a mental note to show it to Derek. Sure, maybe Derek had done this monumental thing with Stiles in mind, but there was no harm in showing the man just how much good he was doing. It brought a smile to his lips Stiles didn’t think would be going anywhere any time soon.

Derek walked out of his appointment at six thirty on the dot. Knowing Stiles was just down the hall waiting sure as hell kept him on track. He was hungry and horny and desperate to have some privacy with said man. So much so his palms itched. He chuckled at the sight Stiles made, with his legs tucked in, earbuds in and sketch pad out. He must have caught movement, because he looked up not a moment after, smiling and taking the buds out.

“Oh, fork. I got your eyebrow wrong. Why is it always the eyebrow?” Derek arched said eyebrow, half in amusement, half intrigued. Soon enough, kneeling next to Stiles’ chair, there he was. His own face staring back at him. And he recognized the scenario, just as he had with his previous sketch. It was from a little over an hour before, with Derek resting against the threshold of the main waiting room. Stiles touched Derek’s eyebrow softly, bringing a smile to his face “Dang eyebrows”

“Are you good to go, Michelangelo?” Stiles chuckled, sighing in amusement before starting to pack his things. Derek turned the tv off, though Stiles was sure there were plenty of staff members for that “My eyebrows can wait”

“Oh, I’m not so sure. You see, it’s not everyday artists such as myself have our muses to ourselves and damn, if I don’t love drawing that face” Derek rolled his eyes jokingly, happy to reach for the hand Stiles had let out for him. Derek felt incredibly honored that Stiles liked capturing him so much. It made him feel seen in ways he didn’t think were possible “Even those dang eyebrows”

Chapter Text

It went without saying that Stiles meeting Cora meant a lot to him. Derek had planned everything down to the smallest details, but he knew it wouldn’t matter. Cora watched her big brother as he went back and forth between the dining table and the kitchen, checking to see if everything was perfect. With each passing day, Derek was happier. Ever since meeting this Stiles person, she saw her brother come to life in ways she had never thought possible.

So, as long as the man treated Derek perfectly, she’d be more than happy to support their relationship. Derek had stood by her through all of her failed attempts at love and she’d be damned if she weren’t there for him. But all of those thoughts went away the second the security guard from the main hall announced that Stiles had arrived.

Cora would never let Derek live this down. She sighed, leaving her glass on Derek’s coffee table and stood to help him with his hair. Derek looked perfect, as usual, but there was that nervousness she never understood. Derek had a fantastic way with people and this boy seemed to be on the palm of his hand. She had never thought she’d live to see the day someone had Derek on the palm of theirs as well. 

“I just want everything to be perfect” Derek sighed, letting his sister take over. Cora smiled up at him, despite her heels. She knew there wasn’t much she could say. Soon enough, Derek would see his sister and his boyfriend getting along just fine and all of this would be a distant memory “Is that too much to ask?”

“You’ve told me only great things about him. If he is half this awesome, I’m sure I’ll like him” Derek nodded, sighing. Cora was right, as usual. Though he’d never admit to it. Stiles knew how important Cora was to him. He could only hope Stiles knew just how important he was to him as well “Besides, Erika told me he went to visit you at the clinic and you added him to your silly little priority list. I don’t know whether to be jealous or proud”

Before Derek could answer, the front door opened. Cora saw the change in her brother, like water to wine. Derek smiled, squeezing her hands before making his way to greet the boy. But Cora watched as a man walked into the apartment, surprisingly. Derek had mentioned Stiles was younger than him, but he certainly didn’t look like it. Cora watched them hug, pleased to see this Stiles guy only had eyes for Derek. For once in her life, Cora was fine being completely ignored. They whispered to each other and Stiles chuckled, closing his eyes when Derek placed a kiss to his cheek.

It was so endearing and sweet Cora couldn’t help but smile. For once, she didn’t care about not having a man’s attention. Because said man was looking at her brother like he hung the moon and Cora was happy to know someone else finally understood. But soon enough, Stiles turned to her. And what she saw surprised her. Stiles smiled, brightly and approached her himself. Didn’t wait for Derek to introduce her or even be in the room. Derek was too busy hanging coats.

“Hi, you must be Cora” Stiles surprised her again by hugging her. He was a tad taller than her and she was pleasantly surprised to find her brother to be dating someone so lively. Stiles pulled away, with a smile on his face that seemed to be perpetual “Sorry, I’m a bit of a hugger. It’s just that I heard so much about you I feel like we’re friends already”

“Is that so?” Derek had chosen said moment to walk back into the room, watching as Stiles still held Cora by the arms. Cora couldn’t help but laugh, followed suit by Stiles “Well, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine” Cora looked Stiles up and down, pleased with his choice of clothes “I see you have good taste, that’s always a great start”

“Of course I do, I’m dating your brother” With a handful of words, Stiles had convinced her. Stiles spoke the words directed at Derek and Cora watched in awe as her brother blushed. Actually blushed. Derek wasn’t big on compliments, so to see him accept such a big one and actually smile was a big deal. Derek closed his arms around Stiles from behind, resting his chin on the shorter man’s shoulder.

“Are you sweet talking me?” Derek whispered, making Stiles openly chuckle. Cora averted her eyes, smiling. Derek was happy. This dinner was going to go smoothly. She sat on the couch and reached for her glass. They were far better than anything she could watch on tv. Which she couldn’t, considering Derek wasn’t the type to even own one.

“It’s so nice of you to notice, mister” Stiles placed a kiss to the tip of Derek’s nose, making him crinkle it. Stiles looked around, seeing the table set for them and everything. And also seemed to notice the scent of spices coming from the kitchen “Can I help with anything?”

“No need, I got this” Derek kissed Stiles’ cheek and made his way towards the kitchen, pointing back at Cora “You can, however, keep my little monster over there company while I finish up”

“I heard that!” Cora called back and Stiles’ laughter echoed through the room as he made his way towards the living room.

“I think it’s safe to say tonight was a success” Derek huffed, smiling. Cora had just left and it was a little over eleven. Derek had tried to get her to stay, but she had insisted she didn’t want to extend her welcome. Which was ridiculous, of course, but she had winked and kissed Stiles’ cheeks and left without making a fuss. Which was a first. Derek made a mental note to thank her for tonight “Your sister is incredible”

“Don’t let her hear you say that” Derek chuckled, reaching for Stiles’ waist, making him smile. Derek’s hands slid down Stiles’ arms, and coaxed him into letting go of the glasses he tried to collect from the table. Stiles melted into Derek’s chest, unable to keep himself from smiling. He closed his eyes. Never in a million years had he imagined being this happy “It might go to her head”

 “No need to be jealous, babe” Derek huffed, enjoying the way Stiles smelled faintly like paint and cologne. An odd mix that was so him it hurt. They had no pet names for each other and Derek doubted Stiles was going to start now, but it certainly added to the domesticity of the whole situation “You’re still my favorite”

“Well, that’s a relief. For a second there I thought I was going to lose you to my own sister” Stiles turned in Derek’s embrace, forgetting all about the dishes and the food that needed to be put away. Anything could wait when Stiles had this man all to himself. Which, if he were being honest, he’d been craving all night.

“You got nothing to worry about, big guy”

Derek woke up to the most incredible view he had ever seen. Stiles, sitting on top of him. The man had been planting kisses all the way down his chest and Derek couldn’t help but smile, enjoying the warmth emanating from his body.

“Morning, Dr. Hale” Stiles bumped his nose along each of Derek’s abs, whispering the words against his skin. Stiles moaned at the feeling of Derek’s hands on his shoulders, squeezing them tight before running his blunt nails through his hair. Derek could get used to this, waking up to Stiles smiling down at him, through heavy eyelids, with the faintest sunlight coming through the blinds. What a sight he was. It was hard to believe it wasn’t a dream.

“Indeed, it is” Derek crossed his arms underneath his head, watching with an arched eyebrow as Stiles lifted himself to get Derek out of his boxers. He had that concentrated look to his face, with his tongue poking out. And fuck, did Derek want to kiss it. So he did. Derek sat up, taking Stiles by surprise. With an arm around the man’s waist, Derek guided their mouths to each other. Stiles chuckled, passing his arms around Derek’s shoulders.

Stiles watched, delighted, as Derek sucked on his own middle and ring fingers. Stiles closed his eyes, knowing what was coming. Derek’s hands on him were gentle, so very gentle. Deft fingers spread his cheeks apart and damn it, if the anticipation wasn’t the best part. But Derek wasn’t the kind of man who played around. Stiles couldn’t find it in him to resist the urge to press further into those fingers when Derek touched them to his hole. 

“Someone’s eager…” Stiles moaned in agreement, hands roaming Derek’s back as if he couldn’t get enough of him. And Derek knew exactly what he felt. Derek let his mouth find Stiles’ nipples and begin its assault on them. Derek rearranged Stiles on his lap, making sure Stiles’ cock came into full contact with his own. They both moaned and Derek took that opportunity to insert his middle finger into that delicious heat, causing Stiles’ hips to buckle at the feeling “Very eager, indeed”

“Derek… stop teasing me” Derek chuckled against the scolding hot skin of Stiles chest, his stubble leaving soft marks on his mouth’s path to his neck. Derek knew Stiles would never forgive him if he did stop. This was probably just as amazing as the sex itself, though nothing would ever compare to that moment Derek entered Stiles. And Derek didn’t think he’d last much longer without it “Derek…”

Derek removed his fingers and wasted no time in sneaking a hand in between their bodies. On shaky legs, Stiles helped as best as he could. Derek groaned at the feeling of the head of his cock finding that warm, wet hole and Stiles took it from there. Derek kept his hands on his waist for support and felt like laying back down. Stiles’ body consumed him and Derek was more than willing to surrender to him. 

But Stiles soon hugged him again and there they sat, connected to the root. Stiles rested their foreheads together and he panted, letting his body become used to Derek’s size all over again. Stiles’ legs closed around his back and Derek allowed his hands to roam Stiles’ perfect body. His back, his thighs. Derek felt himself behaving like a starved man and Stiles was giving him everything.

“So deep like this…” Stiles threw his head back, biting his lip through another moan. Derek could imagine, given how close they were sitting. Derek let Stiles control everything, allowing Stiles to move when he felt ready. Truth be told, Derek could cum just like this, sitting with Stiles so close. Stiles’ fingers tugged at his hair, the heat from his body making Derek sweat in the most delicious way “Derek…”

“You feel so fucking good, Stiles” Stiles chuckled, looking back down at Derek. The man had flushed cheeks and looked positively ready to cum. It was a sight to behold. And Stiles wanted nothing more than to give him that kind of pleasure. It made Stiles feel powerful to know Derek trusted him this much. It was the perfect way to start the weekend “Fuck…”

Stiles chuckled, moving to rearrange himself on Derek’s lap. Derek hissed, making Stiles smile. They didn’t have time to go slow today. They had the whole weekend to themselves. But, for the time being, Stiles just wanted to feel Derek cum. Derek’s hands squeezed him tight, eyes closed as he let Stiles take full control. 

Stiles set a crucifying pace on Derek, making him growl as he closed his eyes. Nothing could ever compare to this, how well the fit in together. Derek had had plenty of terrible experiences with sex, with partners who treated him like a piece of meat. Derek knew Stiles found him attractive, heard the words come from his mouth quite often. But Stiles treated him like the center of the universe and gave him everything. At first it had been nerve wracking, to have such a connection with someone. To have someone only give. And never ask for anything in return.

“Stiles, I’m…” Stiles smiled, kissing Derek’s face however he could. Derek moved a hand to the mattress, to support their weight and Stiles put pressure on his chest. Derek didn’t have it in him to resist. Derek fell on his back and could only watch. Could only watch as Stiles placed his hands on Derek’s chest and rode him. Derek’s hands found Stiles’ thighs, squeezing them. Pleasure pooled inside him and somehow Stiles knew that “Stiles…”

“It’s okay, cum. Cum for me” Stiles ignored the desire to close his eyes and get lost in the pleasure because nothing in this life would ever compare to Derek Hale cumming. It was something Stiles would forever cherish, knowing he had done this for this man. Derek’s hips fucked up into his ass, causing Stiles to lose his rhythm. But Stiles only smiled, knowing it was just a matter of time. Derek squeezed his thighs and arched his back “That’s it. Give it to me”

Derek growled, hands forcing Stiles to sit still. The warmth of his cum made Stiles groan. He loved that feeling. It was intimate in a way Stiles had only ever dreamed of being with someone. Stiles had never trusted someone enough to be exclusive with them, but it had never been a question with Derek. Derek was the first who Stiles had allowed to have him thoroughly and he wanted Derek to never forget that.

Derek opened his eyes and smiled. Fuck, that smile. It made everything inside Stiles melt. it was that kind of tired, satiated smile that told Stiles Derek was ready to fall back asleep. Derek’s hand closed around his cock and Stiles hissed.

“No, it’s okay. I’m okay” Stiles softly coaxed Derek into letting him go and intertwined their fingers, holding Derek’s hand above his head. Derek frowned, but Stiles kissed it. Derek’s free hand touched his face, in what Stiles knew was a desperate attempt to make sure everything was okay between them “It’s okay. Later, you can make it up to me later. Everything’s okay”

“Stiles…” Stiles shushed him, letting Derek’s cock slip out of his ass. Derek groaned, making Stiles smile. Stiles stood on shaky legs, but made sure Derek was all comfy, pulling the covers on top of him. Stiles touched Derek’s forehead, smiling down at him “Oh, this is bad, isn’t it? Three months in and I’m falling asleep after sex. This is bad”

“It’s okay, tough guy. You’ve had a stressful week, I won’t hold it against you” Derek couldn’t help but smile at the laugh that came from Stiles, though he could hardly keep his eyes open. This was Heaven, Derek was convinced. He had never believed in this religious crap, but Stiles sure as hell made him a believer “I’m not going anywhere. When you’re rested and I’ve made sure you’re fed, you can join me in the shower and we can start having fun. Deal?”

“Deal”

Chapter Text

Stiles was fucked. Fully and wholly fucked. Pain shot up his leg as soon as Stiles fell on his ass, but he couldn’t stop running. He couldn’t. Fuck! How the hell had he been found?! Stiles had thought this through for weeks! Oh, this wasn’t good! 

Stiles hid behind the brick wall at the end of the street, trying to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his nape and into his shirt. The sirens were so loud they hurt his ears. The lamp post on the corner further from him told him just how screwed he was. Someone must have seen him. How the hell that had happened, Stiles didn’t know. But he didn’t have the time to think about it. He needed to get out of the streets.

Stiles considered calling Derek, but he chose against it. He couldn’t possibly involve Derek in this. If he got caught… Hell, he couldn’t let that happen. Fuck! Okay, okay, okay. Think! The subway! There was a subway entrance just down the street. If he could get there, he’d be golden. Stiles took off his cap and coat and stashed them by the dumpster.

Stiles took his phone and wallet from his backpack and decided to toss it too. He was wearing all black, that was suspicious enough. Thankfully there weren’t any stains on his pants or shoes. His hands were a different story. Stiles liked to get his hands dirty and there was nothing he could do about it now. Pockets! He had pockets! Okay, here we go.

Stiles swallowed a scream when he tried to stand. His ankle was already swelling, his shoe becoming tighter. Oh, that hadn’t been a part of the plan. Neither had been jumping over fences and running three blocks on a clearly broken ankle. But it beat going to jail. Which was definitely going to happen if he didn’t suck it up and walk. It was just one block! 

Stiles clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. Oh, yeah, his ankle was broken. Thankfully, it still resembled normal anatomy, but the agony that overtook him every time he tried to put weight on his leg told him just how bad the fracture had been. The more he tried, the sicker he felt. Nausea shot up through his body and Stiles did his best to swallow the vomit back down. No, he didn’t have time for this. He needed to get home. ASAP!

But the police clearly had a different idea. The sirens came out of nowhere, around the corner in the blink of an eye. Were there freaking cameras on him?! Stiles didn’t know. He swallowed down the panic and did his best to act like he didn’t know what was happening. He wasn’t the one the cops wanted. The adrenaline certainly helped. Stiles swallowed the nausea and thought about going home. Home would give him the strength to get out of this. 

He had plans with Derek the following day. A Saturday upstate, which they had been planning for over a month. Stiles would be damned if he missed it. But nothing was going to help him now, but a miracle. The police siren to his back was getting louder, no matter how fast he tried to walk. The subway entrance was right there, just across the street, but the cops got there first.

Derek’s ringtone was going to be the death of him. The bloody thing had rung all day and Derek was considering throwing it out the window. But when he saw Cora’s name on the screen, he took a deep breath. They had long ago agreed to answer each other’s calls, especially if they called at midnight. But Cora didn’t even let him speak, her voice coming through loud and clear before the phone was even against his ear. 

“Turn on the tv! Right now” The terror on her voice caused Derek to obey without saying anything. Cora had perfect control over herself at all times, so for her to call him at this time had to be for something serious “It’s Stiles”

“What are you…” The words became lost halfway out of his mouth when Stiles’ face appeared on the tv screen he had insisted Derek buy. He remote fell right out of his hand, smashing on the ground. Cora was screaming at him, but he didn’t pay attention. All he could focus on was Stiles, handcuffed and limping, with dozens of people surrounding him as he was brought into a police station. Derek recognized the precinct, tears filling his eyes at the fear he saw on his boyfriend’s face, trying to hide from the cameras and the people yelling at him.

“Stiles is the Spark?! Derek, why didn’t you tell me?!” Her words brought Derek back. Derek rushed to his room, entering the closet and grabbing himself a pair of jeans. His old college t-shirt would have to do. Derek slid into his shoes by the door, eyes searching the kitchen counter for his wallet “Derek!”

“Cora, I don’t have time for this. I have to go” Derek hung up, dialing his lawyer. He didn’t care if it were the middle of the night or if his lawyer was in some club, enjoying the end of the week. Derek screamed into the phone, hearing music coming from the other side. Thankfully, his lawyer seemed to understand it was an emergency case. Derek took a deep breath, before entering the car. He did the one thing he shouldn’t and honked to get the guard’s attention.

But before he got out of the garage, his phone rang. An unknown number. Derek pressed a button on the steering wheel and Stiles’ voice boomed through the speakers. There was a lot of interference, before Stiles was left alone to make the call, Derek had to guess. He knew how these things worked. Many of his patients had previous encounters with the police and Derek had had his lawyer pick them up repeatedly.

“Derek?” Derek closed his eyes. Oh, this was exactly what had kept Derek up those many nights. Fear that one day he’d have to pick Stiles up. But it was okay. It was going to be okay. He didn’t care how many times he’d have to repeat those words in order to believe them “Fuck, Derek, I’m…”

“I know, I know. I’m already on my way, okay?” Derek heard Stiles cursing under his breath and told himself to get moving. He could do two things at once “Tell me you’re okay. Are you safe?”

“That’s relative, I mean… My ankle is broken. But I’m fine, I guess” Stiles scoffed, his voice hollow and full of hurt. Somehow Derek knew it wasn’t because of his physical pain. It made everything in Derek ache, because Derek wasn’t there. When Stiles needed him, Derek wasn’t there. When Stiles had gone out of his way to be there for Derek. But it was okay. Derek was going to make this right “It’s over, isn’t it? The movement’s over. People know it’s me. Fuck, I probably won’t even graduate. Derek, what am I gonna do?”

“Hey, hey hey. One thing at a time, okay? I’m coming to get you, you hear me? Ten minutes, tops” Stiles nodded, wiping the tears from his face. He did his best to ignore the emptiness inside his own chest, ignore the shouting coming from the streets. He had heard the tv vans parking outside for at least ten minutes now. Stiles couldn’t help but shake his head. It was the end. He knew it was. Derek’s voice was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind “I’m five minutes away, okay? I love you”

“I love you too” Stiles did his best to keep the sobbing to a minimum, but the words had always done things to him. But today, they couldn’t seem to lift his spirits the way they normally did “I love you too”

Derek cursed and hit the breaks. There were hundreds of people outside the police station. Derek recognized vans from ten different channels, paparazzi too. But he saw fans, most of all. There were hundreds of people wearing Spark t-shirts. The news must have spread since Derek left his house, five minutes before.

Derek lost precious time trying to park his car. He shouldered his way to the front door, not bothering to apologize. He didn’t have time to be civil. He slammed his hand on the door, which he found to be locked. A hand on Derek’s shoulder forced Derek to turn and he found Liam, his lawyer. Liam yelled over the sound of screaming and loud chatting.

“Why on Earth are we here?!” Derek turned to see an officer open the door only an inch, but Derek was much stronger than him. He’d rather answer that question as he faced the officer, who seemed ready to punch Derek in the face for disturbing him at said time. To be honest, he didn’t fucking care. He was too old to worry about what other people wanted. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and his hands shook with anger.

“I’m here for Mieczyslaw Stilinski” The officer sighed, finally letting the two man inside. Derek’s eyes immediately scanned the room, though he knew he wouldn’t be allowed past the reception desk before he identified himself. Derek had done this so many times before, but it never felt like this. Despair rushed through him and he forced himself to stay calm. Stiles needed him to. Liam, who was used to the protocol, already had his document in his hand. Derek thanked God the man hadn’t been drinking “I’m Derek Hale. This is my lawyer”

“Identification, please” The officer took his sweet, sweet time with signing Derek and Liam in. With a couple of rushed words, Derek gave Liam as much information as he could. The only thing that could make the situation worse would be to have Stiles’ name out at this point. They needed to be on top of the situation and be the ones who controlled the information the media had access to. He told Liam about the Spark and Stiles and the man pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the oncoming headache. Derek could relate to the feeling.

“Please, tell me you didn’t know” Derek didn’t have to answer with words. Liam looked up at the ceiling, cursing under his breath. Derek didn’t have to be a lawyer to know the situation was bad. Derek had known for a long time now what Stiles got up to. He had never said a thing and that made him an accomplice. Liam would have a field day. Or night, actually “I’m gonna do my best to get him to make bail. But if his ankle is really broken, he’ll be escorted to the emergency by an officer. I can’t do anything about that. Then it’s house arrest. That mess outside? It’s for him?”

“Yes, it is. Listen, just get him out. No matter the cost, just find a way for me to take him home. Or to the hospital first, I don’t care” Derek picked up the visitor badge from the desk and tied it to his belt. Derek knew it was easier said than done, but he needed to know Liam would take care of it. He would trust no one else to do the job. His phone rang just as he was taking it out of his pocket, ready to place it in the container where all of his belongings should be. Derek spotted Stiles’ things too. Cora’s face showed up on the screen, but he declined the call. One thing at a time “I know this isn’t your usual case, but please. Find a way for me to take him home”

Stiles felt fresh tears pool in his eyes at the sight of Derek. His boyfriend wore nothing but jean shorts and a t-shirt, his green eyes sharp with adrenaline. Stiles got up on shaky legs and let Derek pull him to his chest. Derek shushed him, his arms so tight around him Stiles felt his ribs complaining. Throughout their relationship, they had never had to deal with this. This kind of situation. Stiles had never thought he’d get caught, even though he knew Derek feared it could happen. And it had. And Stiles couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Derek… I can’t...” Derek continued to shush him, hands soft on his back. Stiles had always known Derek could handle anything, it was just a part of his character. He could easily take on the burden of other people’s problems and Stiles had promised he would never put that kind of pressure on Derek’s shoulders. And yet Stiles could feel the worry in the knots in Derek’s back, in the tension of his muscles “It’s all over, isn’t it? Gosh, I can’t stop thinking about school. Isaac must be going crazy right now. And I won’t graduate, I know I won’t”

“Hey, hey. Look at me” Stiles closed his eyes when Derek’s fingers cleaned the tears that rolled freely from his eyes. Derek rested their foreheads together, like he had done so many times before. The action had always been so sweet and caring. Gentle and loving. But tonight, it felt like Derek’s touch was the one thing holding him in one piece “One thing at a time, okay? Let’s get you out of here and get that ankle looked at. Then we’ll go home. Tomorrow is a different day. My lawyer’s got it handled”

“Oh, God. So much trouble because of me” Stiles felt laughter bubbling out of him. Completely humorless laughter, but it still shook his tired body. One second away from turning into sobbing. His ankle didn’t even hurt anymore, which wasn’t a good sign. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Stiles knew he was in shock. He was so tired, just so fucking tired he could barely stand “And why the fuck am I worrying about college? I’m gonna go to jail. Fuck, Derek…”

“Stiles, please. Calm down, okay? I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but we’ll deal with it together, just like we do everything else” Stiles took a deep breath and nodded. His hands shook as they held onto Derek’s arms like a lifeline. He could do this. One thing at a time. That sounded like the best plan they had for the time being “No matter what happens, alright? I’m here”

Chapter Text

Stiles woke up with a stiff neck. But he was in his own bed, which helped make the pain bearable. He stretched his arm and sighed. Derek’s side of the bed was cold, still made from that morning. Squinting at the light, Stiles huffed. It was barely past seven in the morning. Stiles did his best to be careful with his cast. His ankle had been severely broken and the pills the doctor gave him had knocked him out cold. He struggled to make his way to the kitchen. He found Liam was spread out on the couch, his suit jacket thrown over his frame. So that was where the snoring was coming from.

Derek looked up as soon as he saw Stiles. The dining table had been turned into a battle ground. Stiles recognized documents and used coffee mugs. Derek had bags under his eyes, which told Stiles just how much sleep the man had gotten. It took everything in Stiles not to randomly burst into tears at the soft look Derek gave him. Derek softly tapped his thighs and Stiles gladly sat on his lap. Derek’s body held all of his weight and Stiles closed his eyes, hugging Derek’s neck in return. Derek’s hands traced the bones of his hip, the curve of it until he hugged Stiles back, so tight Stiles couldn’t help but feel the tears sting at his eyes. 

“How bad is it?” Stiles dared ask after a long moment in complete silence. He whispered the words, afraid of speaking any louder. New York buzzed with life far on ground level, but today the thought didn’t fill Stiles with joy. He doubted anything could at this point. Derek sighed, kissing Stiles’ neck before softly coaxing Stiles’ hands into letting go of his neck. Stiles hadn’t noticed just how much force he was using in his hug.

“Truth be told, Stiles, I’m not sure” Derek looked into those teary eyes and he wished he could fix this. He wished he could snap his fingers and wish it all away. But he couldn’t. Derek did his best to let go of his anger and frustration. He had no idea what Stiles must have felt, sitting alone in that cell. But Liam had thrown some pretty heavy news on him the night before and Derek didn’t think he could sit there and tell Stiles the truth. But he had to “I’m not sure how much we can squeeze you out of this mess”

“What charges am I gonna face?” Stiles knew he should be asking Liam those things, but he couldn’t bear to hear the news from a stranger. Even though Derek clearly trusted the guy, Stiles didn’t think he had much of anything left inside himself to give “Destruction of public property?”

“For starters, yes” They had always known exactly how bad things could get. They just chose to ignore the harsh truth the Spark movement would face. Derek didn’t care about the movement, about what the people on social media were saying. He just wanted to make sure Stiles got out of this mess as soon as possible “Liam thinks we’ll be getting a plea deal… well, any second now. Because of the national and international coverage of the news. It’s our best option, apparently”

Stiles nodded, his eyes distant as he hummed more to himself than to Derek’s words. Stiles wasn’t the kind of person to be quiet. Derek had come to appreciate Stiles’ constant moving, humming, tapping and words. But, in that moment, Stiles had nothing to say. Derek doubted he’d behave that much differently. Everything Stiles had worked so hard to build had just crumbled from beneath his feet. Derek’s hands squeezed him that much more.

“But, hey. Look at me. Enough about this for now, okay? How about breakfast?” Stiles closed his eyes and groaned. His arms snaked back around Derek’s neck and Stiles felt his chuckle against his own chest. A knock on the door prevented Stiles from replying. Liam woke up with a gasp, almost falling from his place on the couch. Stiles witnessed as Derek and Liam exchanged a look and Derek stood, with Stiles still in his arms. Carefully, so very gently, Derek sat him down on the chair he had just occupied “Should be the prosecutor”

“Yup” Liam spoke, using his fingers to brush his unruly hair back. His shirt was ruined, wrinkled beyond repair. Stiles hoped the man knew how much he appreciated everything he was doing. Stiles watched as Derek opened the door. The police officer who had been assigned to guard their apartment entrance moved out of the way and a woman stood there, with a large manila envelope in hands “Good morning, Sarah”

“Liam. Dr. Hale” Derek reached for the envelope, signing for it. He’d be damned if he let the woman into his apartment. Since Liam was there, there was no need for her to watch as they studied the plea deal. Which was probably atrocious, at best. Derek didn’t give a shit about being nice either. He had no patience left at this point. He had a boyfriend to care for, he didn’t have time for this “We expect your reply by tomorrow morning”

“I’d like for you to read it first” Derek whispered to Liam, handing his old friend the envelope “I know it can’t leave the apartment, but maybe Theo can stop by, bring you a change of clothes. I’m gonna focus on Stiles for now” Liam simply nodded, moving on to cleaning out the dining table and getting started. Stiles figured twenty four hours wasn’t that much time to study such a document. Part of Stiles thought he should be there for that, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care “You’re with me. Come on”

Stiles sat there, Derek’s hand in his as they both stared at completely different points of the room. Liam had just stated the terms of the plea deal and Stiles didn’t think there was anything he could have said that would make the situation any better. Derek’s fingers had gone limp in his, the reassuring grip easing up as the shock set in.

Finding out Derek had paid two millions dollars to get him out of prison had seemed so absurd and Stiles was quite honestly thankful Liam didn’t give him time to process that information. Sure, Derek had money. What else was new? So many things rushed through his mind at once, Derek’s reputation, his family’s old ties. Though the man had time and time again told Stiles none of it mattered, Stiles knew it did. It would, once he was gone.

Derek had screamed in outrage as soon as the words were out of Liam’s mouth. His closed fist pounded on the table, the multiple pens and pencils scattering to the ground. But Stiles couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He had seen it coming. And Liam had mentioned there was no squeezing out of it.

“Stiles is expected to pay for the public property damage in full, estimated at fifteen million u.s. dollars” Derek had squeezed his hand before Stiles could say anything. Right, money wasn’t the problem. But Derek wasn’t the one expected to pay that kind of money. Stiles was “And fulfill the sentence of three hundred and sixty-five days incarcerated in a federal prison of their choosing. Without chance of parole or court appeal. Non negotiable”.

Derek stood from his chair, hands in his hair, pulling at the strands. His growl of fury made Stiles flinch. But, not a second later, he was back beside him. He stood there, rage rippling out of him in waves. Poor Liam was victim of his icy stare as Derek demanded he find a way out.

“There is no way out, Derek. I’m sorry. It’s non negotiable and in my professional opinion, it’s the best deal we’re gonna get” Derek had been a second away from telling Liam, one of his oldest friends, to shove his professional opinion up his ass, but Stiles’ hand on his arm somehow managed to stop him. The defeated look in Stiles’ eyes made Derek sit, rubbing a hand down his face “If Stiles reports that he can’t afford the fine, his sentence will be doubled”

“Well, fuck that!” Derek yelled, loud enough that Stiles' ear rang. His hand reached for Stiles’ leg, fingers digging into his thigh. Stiles closed his eyes, trying to pry his hand away. But to no avail. Derek’s tunnel visioned protectiveness was in high gear and nothing would get him to stop at this point “I’ll fucking pay for it, you know I will. One year is a fucking stretch, Liam. Two years is out of the fucking question!”

“Stiles needs to pay for it, Derek. We have to attest the money came from a personal account of his or a joint one he shares with a wife or husband” The words got Derek to shut up. And fuck him if Stiles didn’t know that silence. He could almost hear the gears turning inside his boyfriend’s head. Stiles opened his mouth to speak, to protest or maybe to proclaim his love for the man, knowing what he was willing to do for him, but Liam beat him to it “Unless you have one of those three, Stiles will be spending seven hundred and thirty days in prison”

“He doesn’t, but he can have” Stiles was already shaking his head by the time Derek looked back at him and he knew they were both on the same page. One of the perks of sharing your life with someone is you learn to think the exact same way they did. It didn’t help that they had been talking about the future not a week before this mess. Stiles couldn’t help but feel the ground being swept right from under his feet “The alternative if unacceptable, Stiles”

“What’s unacceptable is you proposing marriage to me at a time like this, Derek!” Stiles spoke, knowing damn well it wouldn’t stop Derek from trying. Hell, Derek would make sure it was done before the day was over too. He saw the determination in those green eyes and he knew it was useless to try and fight him on this.

“I’m not spending two fucking years apart from you, for fuck’s sake!” Derek took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. Stiles sighed, lifting himself off the chair and standing in between Derek’s legs. The man closed his eyes, forehead rested against Stiles’ stomach, hands going up and down his legs, mindful of the cast “I love you, Stiles. I’d gladly double the money if it meant… it doesn’t matter. One year, Stiles. Not a fucking second longer. Liam, you know what to do”

Stiles frowned when the man nodded, getting up from the chair and dialing a number on his phone. But Derek didn’t explain what was going on. Instead his large hand simply cupped Stiles’ cheek and forced him to look him in the eyes. Stiles saw so much pain in those golden-green pools that reality finally sunk in. And it knocked the very air right out of his lungs.

“I’m sorry to rush this, baby. Once… once this whole mess is over, we can take our time. I swear it on my life” Derek stood, softly touching their foreheads together and Stiles wanted to say something, anything, but the words died inside his mouth. They were getting married. For money. And Stiles was going away. To jail. The horror that followed that train of thought was like a gut punch and tears welled up in his eyes “I promised you together. I intend on keeping that promise”

The golden band didn’t stay on his finger for more than ten hours, Derek realized. Sitting on the floor of his bedroom, their bedroom, Derek realized he had been married for a little over half a day now. And he held Stiles’ wedding ring so tight it left a bright red indentation in his palm. The apartment was so… empty. Without him. Truth be told, Derek had no idea how he managed to live in that wretched penthouse alone all those years. Without Stiles’ laugh, his skin, his paint stains. 

Derek felt... hollow. He had already cried himself hoarse, screaming his fury at the sky. Nothing, no pain Derek had ever faced in his life, had prepared him for this. Losing his family had been one thing. They were there one second and gone the next. Through hard work, Derek had found closure. How… how could he survive this? This emptiness?

Sunshine poured into the room and Derek knew. He knew he had to find it in himself to stand up, take a shower and go to work. Maybe have some breakfast. Stiles had begged him to lead as normal a life as possible. But it had been easier to make that promise than it would be to keep it. His phone buzzed on top of the bed, three times now. But Derek didn’t bother looking. Stiles’ phone was in the living room, inside a bag full of his clothes and belongings. His wedding band, twin to the one he wore, was the only thing he bothered picking up.

Derek merely lifted his gaze when he heard the front door slam. A half second of hope flared inside his exhausted chest, but the sound of heels clicking on the hardwood floor soon snuffed it out. Cora gasped at the sight on him, sitting on the floor, his back to the bed. She neared him with slow steps, not wanting to startle him. But he would have to be feeling anything for that to happen. And there was nothing inside his chest.

“Oh, my fucking god, Derek” Fresh tears welled up in his eyes. And Cora groaned, kicking her shoes off. Her bag was thrown on the bed and soon enough she was sitting on the floor next to him. Her tiny hands reached for him the second Derek leaned into her hug, his weight a struggle for her to hold. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just held him through the sobbing.

Stiles had thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep. But he did. After the commotion that was arriving at his new home for the year ahead, the guards had allowed him to stay in his cell. Even though Stiles hadn’t been able to squeeze out of the jail time, Liam had taken a big risk in demanding certain things, like a private cell. Given how the other inmates had treated him and how the hoards of fans had piled up just outside, the prosecution had begrudgingly thought best to agree. Liam had tried for a monthly conjugal visit, but they had all been aware of how much of a stretch that was.

Stiles was allowed to write Derek, though. A weekly letter. It was nowhere near the same, but Stiles didn’t have it in him to complain. He sat on his bed, already foreseeing the herniated disk he’d get, and felt for his wedding band. Then he closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. It was back at home, with his husband. With Derek, right along with his heart. Derek had tried to pretend Stiles wasn’t leaving in the morning. They had just been declared married and all they did was lie on their bed, hugging.

They didn’t speak when the time came. They had already said everything that mattered. I’ll wait. Never doubt that, do you hear me? Derek’s words had been so gentle, those large hands holding Stiles’ face with such care. Stiles had felt like he was crumbling, wasting away with each step Derek took away from him. Then the police car door closed and Stiles was off. Something inside him broke at the sight of Derek, hands in his head, watching him go. 

Stiles quickly found out that his deal wouldn’t protect him in there. A cop for a father and years of crime shows under his belt certainly did nothing for him. Though breakfast was brought to him in his cell, lunch was a different story. He couldn’t hide in there forever, his guard had said. Instead, he was escorted into the cafeteria, where every head turned to him. He was met with a varied array of reactions, none of which made him feel at ease. 

Stiles laid in bed that night, with his busted nose sending wave after wave of pain through his skull. It was like a hangover, times ten. His lip was cut in two places and his left eye was swollen shut. But he hadn’t dared complain. He stood there, cornered in the shower and had taken the beating like a champ. The guard arrived a second too late. With nothing but a towel around his waist, Stiles was taken to the infirmary.

Stiles had laughed when he found out his daytime jailer, Jordan Parrish, was a fan of his. After the beating, Jordan had squeezed in a bag of ice cubes wrapped in a hand towel. The man had been nice enough to him, all things considered. And, while he had sat there, holding the improvised ice pack to his face, Jordan had whispered to him a few tips. Mostly the brutes Stiles should do everything in his power to avoid pissing off. 

“When is it mail day?” Stiles had simply asked. The prosecution lawyer who had overseen his admission to the facility had all but ignored his question. He had been so overwhelmed with his first twenty four hours that he had completely forgotten to ask. Stiles wondered if he’d forget other things too. He had wanted to keep track of the days that passed, but now he wasn’t so sure. It would just drive him crazy.

“Did you register an address for the letters?” Liam had made sure Stiles remembered that much. He had also made sure Stiles remembered that if he ever needed anything else, all he had to do was include it in his letters to Derek. Liam would find a way for him to get whatever items he asked for. Stiles had hugged the man, before leaving the apartment, much to the blush that crept up his cheeks. He owed Liam a lot.

“My husband’s, yeah” Jordan nodded, checking his watch. A loud bang resonated from somewhere down the hall and he kept an attentive ear for a moment, to see if his coworkers needed help bringing whoever it was under control.

“It’s every wednesday. You’ll have thirty minutes to write it during breakfast and mail is posted by midday” Stiles had nodded. That was all he needed to know. He thanked Jordan once again for the ice and the tips, and laid back down on his bed. Stiles vowed he’d keep up some sort of exercise routine. The cell seemed to be large enough. He’d rather chill during his sun bathing hour than work out during it “One more thing, pal. Don’t ever, under any circumstance, let them find out you’re gay”

Derek was thankful for the weekend ahead. Everyone at work had been somewhat polite about the situation and business was booming. Not that Derek believed half of those new patients actually had need for therapy. But he wasn’t going to complain. It was a welcomed distraction from… from everything else. From the empty bed he went home to and the all-around nothingness he felt. Cora had slept over that first night, but he had insisted she go back to her own life. They still had three hundred and fifty eight days to go and Derek refused to drag anyone down his rabbit hole of sadness and rage.

But Cora wouldn’t have it. Not during the weekend. She forced him to change clothes and didn’t stop tapping her foot until she deemed him decent enough to go out in public. The thought of facing the paparazzi camped outside his building made a rock sink inside his stomach. But Derek knew better than to fight Cora whenever she made up her mind. It was a Hale thing, he could almost hear Stiles giggling.

A weak smile found its way into his lips when he recognized where Cora was driving him to. It wasn’t to her place, like he had figured. Cora parked outside and with a smile on her beautiful face, the face of their mother, she jumped out of the car and met Derek out on the sidewalk. So this was why she had chosen to ditch the heels for the day. Derek took in the fake storefront, Cora’s hand sliding into his.

“Let’s call it my very weird wedding gift” She whispered. Derek looked down at her. Derek had been so caught up getting the marriage license approved he hadn’t even thought of inviting Cora. But after that first night, when Derek sobbed as he spilled all of his fear and rage into her waiting arms, she hadn’t found it in herself to be angry at him. She could only hope she would one day love someone the way her brother loved Stiles “We’ve never given up on each other, Derek. We’re not gonna start now. You were always there for me. And I’m here for you”

“When… when he’s out” Cora squeezed his hand, giving him whatever strength he needed to get those words past his lips. Derek hadn’t even allowed himself to say Stiles’ name, let alone daydream that far ahead. Derek had vowed he’d wait for Stiles. There had never been a question when it came to that. But it didn’t mean that things wouldn’t be different when those three hundred and sixty-five days were up. Cora could feel his fear like a wave “We’ll, uh… celebrate. An actual reception and everything. I promised him as much”

“I know it feels like hell right now. But you told me something once that I’ve been carrying with me all this time” Derek did his best to hold the tears at bay. During the week, it had been easy for him to slip a mask on and be angry. Hold on to the cold he felt inside, like he’d never be warm again. It was easy to scowl at people until they swallowed their stupid comments and kept their questions to themselves. But Derek had never been able to keep his emotions from Cora “You told me that pain I felt would pass. It would pass like a kidney stone, but it would pass”

Chapter Text

Stiles had been reading one of the library books when Derek’s first letter arrived. His hands shook terribly as he tore through the cream colored envelope. His first letter had consisted of only a few rushed lines, telling Derek he was fine and that he loved him. Nowhere near what his husband deserved after… everything. Derek’s letter was far better put together, though Stiles could feel his stress and pain in the way he had pressed the pen with such force. Stiles, at a loss for what to say, had used the rest of his thirty minutes sketching that gorgeous face. If anything, it kept their memories fresh in his mind. Those eyes, those hands, that mouth. Stiles barely had it in him to swallow back the whimper that threatened to break out of him.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.

I miss you terribly. Every second without you is torture, but I am nothing if not a masochist. It always left me wonderstruck to witness the way you see me. I am relieved that is how you remember me. 

I will be there, three hundred and forty-one days from now. Hold on to that.

I love you, with every fiber in my being”

So, with each letter, Stiles had taken it upon himself to sketch Derek from different memories. Their first date, the very first time he had seen him. His jaw open in pure ecstasy as he orgasmed under Stiles. Those memories brought more pain than joy, somehow. But Stiles couldn’t bring himself to stop. Derek was the one counting down the days, not him.

Derek had been staring at Erika from over the rim of his glasses. The woman had just dumped a mail bag on top of his desk. When she pulled the strings open, letters upon letters fell out. All addressed to Stiles, he noticed. From all over the United States, too. Derek looked up at her, suddenly realizing he hadn’t had enough coffee for whatever it was that this meant.

“What is all this?” He asked, trying to stop the flood of letters falling out of the bag. There were easily hundreds in there, written in different colored papers and in different fonts too “Why are all these people writing to my husband?”

“You know you have the marital right to open them if you want” Erika shrugged, feigning nonchalance and Derek recognized his own curiosity reflected in her eyes. In a swift movement, Derek picked the first letter of the pile and ripped it open. He really didn’t think Stiles would have minded if he read any fan mail of his. Not that he had ever gotten any before “What does it say?”

“Just stuff about the Movement” Derek’s eyes ran through the paragraphs, the kind words directed at Stiles. Derek reached for another letter, a bright pink one and read similar thoughts. When he reached the tenth letter, he had tears in his eyes and a knot in his throat. And Erika hadn’t left either. Somehow, his friends had managed to always know when he needed to be left alone. But more importantly they always seemed to know when he needed not to be “These are from fans, Erika. Hundreds of fans with messages of support and… love”

“Well, we always knew the Spark Movement meant a lot to a lot of people” Erika shrugged again, smoothing out wrinkled envelopes. She checked the return addresses and even found letters from other countries. No doubt thanks to the latest media coverage her boss had been getting “Our PO box is flooded, Derek. It took me two hours to separate these from our actual mail”

“I’ll, uh… I’ll have them, I guess. Stiles will like to read them when he’s… uh” Erika reached for his hand before he lost it completely. Derek knew what was happening to him, had studied the stages throughout his career. First, it was denial. It was screaming at Stiles and exhausting his team to try and find a way out. Then, when he had to find it in himself to let go of Stiles’ hand, watch the man he loved get inside that police car, it was anger. It was the blinding rage that nearly had him dragging a knife through every painting Stiles had ever added to the walls of their apartment. 

Now, it was depression, it seemed. It was the food he ate when he wasn’t hungry. It was the shower he didn’t feel like taking, the beard he didn’t feel like trimming. The work he didn’t care if it went not done. Derek was doing his fucking best, but it was so damn hard. It took everything in him to get out of bed in the morning. All that seemed to matter were the letters. And not these ones. But the ones Stiles wrote him.

“I love you”

Just three words that had Derek sobbing. He knew he couldn’t possibly ask Stiles to write more, but those words slowly turned him into a horror show. Derek couldn’t bear to read them anymore. Instead, all he looked forward to was knowing what memory currently lived in Stiles’ mind. What little piece of their history was keeping his husband afloat. 

Derek hoped he could skip the next step. He wasn’t a religious man, but as he stashed the newest letter in the drawer of his nightstand, Derek knew he’d take any deal. He’d pay any price, sell anything, just to see Stiles again. Hold him as they slept, hear him laugh at a silly pun joke Derek tried to make. He’d bargain anything for the pain to just stop.

Stiles never asked for anything, either. That had Liam worried, for some reason. His argument was that he had never had an inmate who survived solely on what the prison offered. Be it food, clothes, even reading material. Derek had to admit it was strange, when the man put it like that. But when Derek asked, Stiles merely said that he didn’t need anything. Derek hadn’t really allowed himself to stop and hate the fact that he wasn’t allowed to visit Stiles. One look, that was all he needed. To know Stiles wasn’t crumbling like he was.

Stiles hadn’t really let reality sink in until Jordan mentioned today was Stiles’ six month anniversary. He eyed the man with surprise for a quick second. Huh. Six months. Half of his sentence, just gone. Stiles sat at his usual table, his pen almost running out of ink as he twirled it around his finger. Stiles allowed himself some hope. He still had another six long months to go, but… halfway. He had survived halfway. It meant something.

He stared at the blank page, imagining it was a blank canvas. Stiles had had several opportunities to ask for drawing supplies. He knew damn well Derek would have rushed to get him whatever he wanted. Wouldn’t have minded spending thousands of dollars in whatever brands Stiles specified. But he just needed him. His smile, his unrelenting dedication every single week. Even though it’d been weeks since Stiles had given him anything to work with.

But today, he felt that hope bloom inside his chest. The worst of it had already passed. If he didn’t hold on, just like Derek had told him to, then he’d slip, fade away inside those gray halls. And he had a strange vision of his mother slapping him for it. Stiles had deserved this punishment. And he was going to man up and own that shit.

“One hundred and eighty-two days to go. I love you more than you’ll ever know, D.”

Stiles almost lost track of time, sketching their hands as Derek slid the band he missed so much onto its very brief stay in its new home. 

Derek hadn’t been able to sleep that night. This had to be a mistake, he thought as he sat on the couch with his laptop. His finger played with Stiles’ wedding band, now on a chain around his neck. Derek could wear it at all times, just beneath his clothes. And as the hours ticked by, as he scrolled through hundreds of thousands of #Spark posts, an idea started forming.

Now, Derek wasn’t a big social media person. It drove Stiles half insane. But he knew someone who was. Someone who had created a brand all on their own and had made social media their bitch. He phoned Cora long before he had found the right words to say. The sun was just beginning to set over New York City, another week had come and gone, when she picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Hey, Der. I just got home. Is everything okay?” Derek chose to ignore the rushed tone of worry underneath the nonchalant words. Derek knew damn well he had scared his sister. Cora had nearly given him a few heart attacks in the past too. But this wasn’t a competition. And Derek needed her help, now more than ever. He had been praying for this moment, for something to come along that would make him feel like he could actually achieve something.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. Promise” Derek set his laptop on the coffee table and marched to the kitchen, not caring about his bare feet on the hardwood floor. As Summer approached, Derek had turned off the heated flooring. Stiles was a Winter baby and hated all things Summer. But Derek rather enjoyed it. He had kept the windows wide open all day too “Sorry to call on such short notice, but do you mind coming over? I need your help with something and it can’t wait”

“Oh, uh… okay, I guess. Good thing I didn’t take my bra off, then, or that would be a no for you, my friend” Derek rolled his eyes, feeling a smile tug at his lips. There was his little sister. The girl who could drive him insane, but he loved anyway. Derek had thought he’d never be able to consider anyone family besides her. Oh, how wrong he had been “Can you at least tell me what this is about?”

“I’ll let you choose dinner if you shut up and just get here already” Derek would do no such thing, obviously. He knew exactly what Cora would like to have. Perks of spending, well… your whole life with someone. As soon as they hung up, after she grunted some half assed reply, Derek called their usual Chinese joint and doubled Cora’s orange chicken order. He had a feeling they’d need the extra energy for what he had planned.

Chapter Text

Stiles felt his stomach in knots. The previous week, his last week, had dragged in ways Stiles had no idea time even could achieve. But slowly, so very slowly, time ticked by. Taking him closer and closer to home. To Derek. The past six months were a blur of time wasted reading books he already knew the endings of and exercising. Stiles hadn’t bothered making any friends. He wanted nothing that would remind him of this place.

When Parish came to get him, though, Stiles couldn’t help but smile. It was with this moment in mind that Stiles had decided not to collect any belongings. He didn’t want to have to look back to see if he hadn’t missed anything. He never wanted to think of that hellhole ever again. He knew Derek wouldn’t ask. Derek had a talent for respecting other people’s limits and Stiles really needed some of that right about now.

“Your husband’s already outside” Stiles’ eyes snapped to him so fast Jordan laughed. The jailor straight up threw his head back and laughed at his expense. Stiles’ felt the blush climb his neck and take permanent residence on his cheek. A smile tugged at his lips, but he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction “I mean, damn. That is a fine piece of ass you have there. I would climb that…”

“I’m gonna risk extending my sentence by punching you if you don’t shut the fuck up” His threat only worked to get the man to laugh harder. Stiles blinked at the sun that poured into the administration’s office and his stomach flipped at the sight of his clothes, laid out on the desk. No, he wouldn’t. He’d allow anyone to say whatever the fuck they wanted, but Stiles was walking out of that damned place today. Not a fucking second longer.

“No, my friend, you are not” Parish took his sweet time uncuffing Stiles. One at a time, the cuffs opened and Stiles closed his eyes at the sound he prayed to never have to hear again. Massaging his wrists, Stiles touched the fabric of the sweater he had been wearing. It’d be too hot for it now, but it would have to do. It was so soft under his fingers, a reminder of a softer, kinder time “Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, would we? You can shower and shave before leaving, if you want. Your release isn’t until eight o’clock on the dot. My best guess is mister hot pants over there couldn’t sleep last night”

“Thank you, Parish” Stiles extended his hand and the man took it, a genuine smile taking over his face. How the man smiled so damn much, Stiles had no idea. And he thought he was a cheery person. But damn it, it wasn’t even seven thirty in the morning yet. The idea of taking longer than necessary was a pain in his ass, but he’d rather shave first. Those thirty minutes would be hell if he didn’t keep himself busy “For everything”

“Don’t mention it. But if I see your ass back here…” Stiles couldn’t contain the laughter that escaped him. Oh, he would never. Fuck trying to take down the government. He’d gladly retire from street art, or any other kind of art for that matter, if it meant getting to live the quiet life he and Derek had dreamed of. He’d never let anything else get in the way of those plans.

“You wish, pal”

At precisely seven fifty-five, Stiles signed his own release. He had expected a bigger bureaucracy and a hell of a lot more paperwork. But maybe those folk were just too tired to care. It was damn early, after all. And apparently the coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. Stiles was not going to complain. He was thankful for the familiar clothes, though sad they no longer smelled like home. But would, soon enough. 

And tears immediately pooled in his eyes at the sight of Derek, resting on the hood of his car. His eyes had been too busy checking the time on his watch to see that Stiles was already running. The second the gates buzzed and Derek looked up, Stiles ran. And fuck, that smile. It made every single day of the last year vanish. Just like that, none of it mattered.

Derek laughed, the sound so marvellous to Stiles’ ears, as he caught his husband when he jumped. Stiles had envisioned a much more mature and grown up version of this reunion, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was surrounded by Derek, his smile, his voice, his scent, his body. It made a sob escape his lips and Derek shushed him, planting kisses all over Stiles’ face. Derek sat him on top of the trunk and pulled away, hands cupping Stiles’ tear streaked cheeks.

“It’s over now, baby” Stiles could do little else but nod, fisting the material of Derek’s shirt. His thumbs softly wiped the tears away and Derek replaced them with his mouth, taking his time to run his nose against Stiles’. Derek was… bigger. His shoulders were broader, somehow. His hair was longer too. Stiles realized how even Derek’s waist had gotten slimmer “Look at you! You’re so… big!”

“Big? I’m big? I did fifty push ups a day, Derek. What the fuck have you been doing?” Derek just smiled. Instead of answering, he just smiled. A blinding smile that had the sun looking like a mere glimmer in the sky. How this man was even real, Stiles had no idea. And his too. That was probably what he was still hung up on “Are you gonna kiss me or what, husband?”

“I’m afraid that if I do I’m gonna end up fucking you in the back seat of my car and that’s not how I planned on that going” Stiles felt goosebumps rise on his skin and not thanks to the soft morning breeze. Derek’s hands squeezed his thighs, tight enough that Stiles could have cum right there. He hadn’t had time for himself. Though he had witnessed plenty of men jacking off, he had never really relaxed enough for that. He figured he’d ruin Derek’s plan with how short he’d last. Stiles bit his lips, though. He didn’t care about anything other than tasting Derek.

“We’ve never done it in the car before…” Derek groaned, laying his forehead against Stiles’ neck. The veins pulsed with life and Derek kissed them. Because he could. He could finally get his fill of that delicious skin, that body, this man. This man he loved more than life. Derek couldn’t keep from moaning when Stiles’ fingers pulled at his hair, softly coaxing him to look up, his eyelids heavy with desire over dilated pupils “But if you’re gonna make me wait until we’re home, the least you could do is give me my ring back. You’re a married man, Dr. Hale. I won’t let you forget it”

Stiles had seen the band on Derek’s finger already, but he would stand by those words. He would never take that ring off again. Not only because it was a representation of their marriage, but of what they had survived. They had been married for ten hours when Stiles had to leave. Which meant that Stiles’ release had barely missed their anniversary.

“Like I could ever forget it, baby” Derek pulled the chain out, removing the band from it. Stiles bit his lip, smiling at how gentle Derek was being. The year before, everything had been so rushed. And Stiles knew for a fact Derek was going to keep his promise. They’d live now. They’d get to live their marriage now “I even got you an anniversary gift and everything”

“Does it involve us in our bathtub and a bottle of champagne?” Derek chuckled, bringing Stiles’ hand and leaving a kiss to the band, much like he had done three hundred and sixty-five days before. Stiles smiled, that soft smile of his and touched his face once more. 

“Not quite. But we’ll make tonight whatever you want” Stiles hummed, satisfied with that answer. He hadn’t really expected anything different coming from Derek. His husband kissed the corner of his mouth, making him groan in frustration “My surprise can wait until tomorrow. Or considering I’m going to ravish you, it can wait until the day after tomorrow”

“Since when are you all talk, huh?” The smile that spread on Derek’s face told Stiles he was getting exactly the reaction he wanted. But Stiles wasn’t going to take the words back. If Derek wanted to get him all worked up, well two could play that game. Which was why Stiles jumped from the trunk, looking slightly up into those green eyes “Fucking show me, husband”

Stiles regretted nothing. His whole body was deliciously sore and Derek… oh, Derek. What a man. What a lover. Derek merely ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair, prying him from the bliss of exhaustion that had taken over his mind and body. Stiles opened one of his eyes, watching as the four o’clock New York light caught on his husband’s bare chest, the satisfied smile taking over his gorgeous features. Stiles had had a field day when he noticed the soft gray hairs adorning Derek’s hair and beard. How he hadn’t noticed it before was a mystery to him.

“Were you asleep?” Derek whispered, kneeling besides the bed and allowing his hand to smooth down the muscles of Stiles’ back. His hips lifted and Derek chuckled, letting his hand smooth over those bouncy and gorgeous asscheeks. The very same ones he had slapped quite harshly an hour before. Stiles moaned at the contact, spreading his legs a little to allow the tip of Derek’s finger to slide against his rim. Still blinking, Derek noticed “Not asleep, then. Got it”

“You just fucked my brains out, Der…” Stiles groaned into the pillow, hands fisting the sheets as he continued asking for more. And being the ever loyal husband he was, Derek simply gave him whatever he wanted. Which included straddling those thighs and letting a finger slide gently into Stiles’ ass. Stiles bit down on the pillow, eyes rolling back as he moaned. Derek simply chuckled, lips trailing up Stiles’ neck “How is it possible I still want more?”

“I can quote at least four different academics, scholars and scientists who have theories for sexual drive and the bond between two individuals” Stiles simply hummed, feeling the air get knocked right out of his lungs as Derek slapped his ass again. The flesh was already so tender and the shock of the impact only worked to get Stiles to clench around Derek’s large fingers. When had he slid a second one in, Stiles had no idea “But given how you’re squeezing my fingers, I don’t think that’s what you want from me, is it?”

“You cruel, beautiful man” Stiles gasped at the next slap, moaning at the way Derek’s fingers ran through his hair quite forcefully, pulling on the strands to bring Stiles’ mouth closer to his. Such love pooled in those eyes, Stiles noticed. It was enough to get a fire uncoiling inside his body. Nothing compared to what Derek had made him feel before and yet so familiar “Stop teasing me, Der…”

“But this is the best part, wouldn’t you say so?” Derek’s voice was so soft and gentle, whispering promises for what he planned on doing to Stiles’ body. And Stiles would let him. He would trust Derek with anything at this point. Derek’s knee pushed Stiles’ legs even further apart, pulling him closer by the hair. And Stiles moaned at the change in angle, how much deeper Derek’s fingers could go with Stiles on all fours.

“Not when I’m about to cum with just your fingers and when I could be cumming on your dick instead” The roar of laughter that escaped Derek’s chest somehow didn’t break the tension the man had been building. If anything, it only worked to get Derek to let go of his hair and push Stiles back down on the bed. But this time, Derek moved with him. Those large fingers scissored his hole one more time and then they were gone. Leaving him so empty and needy “Derek…”

“I’ll give you what you want, baby” Stiles moaned at the added weight from Derek’s body, his husband on his elbow as he guided himself inside his body. Stiles could do little else but take it. Feel as Derek owned him, from the inside. Feel all of him keeping Stiles in place, without an inch between their bodies. And Derek panted, cursing under his breath as he slid all the way to the hilt. Derek’s warm breath was on his ear, then, pulling at his earlobe softly before moaning once more “You drive me crazy, Stiles… fuck”

Stiles had completely forgotten how to speak. Not only because his chest was pressed on the bed, but because Derek felt so huge like this. Owning every inch of his body, searing him with how fucking warm his body was. Derek’s hands found his and never let go, rubbing his stubble in between Stiles’ shoulder blades. He was stuck, right there, and he was about to beg Derek to allow him to live in that moment forever.

Then Derek stared moving, of course. And fuck! Stiles wasn’t going to last long. He really fucking wasn’t. He tried telling Derek as much, but he couldn’t find his voice. Instead, Derek just shushed him, going harder. Derek’s hip slapped against his own, his balls hitting against Stiles’ with each thrust. They completely ignored the cell phone that started ringing in the living room, the loud sounds of their sex drowning out anything that wasn’t them .

And Stiles was so close . He could barely breathe and he needed more. He needed to cum and he needed Derek to stop being so damn careful for once. Stiles squeezed Derek’s hands, bringing his attention back to reality. Derek’s hips slowed considerably, but Stiles groaned in protest.

“No, harder… I want harder” Derek huffed against his hair, pushing deep into Stiles’ fucked out hole and rolling his hips until he found what he was looking for. And when Stiles gasped, cursing under his breath and his hips chased the feeling, Derek knew he had just given exactly what his husband wanted “Again… fuck me, Derek. Again”

“You won’t be able to walk tomorrow, baby” Derek spoke, but did as he was told. He would never be able to deny his husband anything. And Stiles moaned, his fingers squeezing his hands as his whole body shook with pleasure. It was a delicious thing to witness and Derek feared he’d be addicted to this rougher sex if they kept going.

“You’ll just have to carry me around, then” Derek pushed his hips in hard, dragging a moan from Stiles so loud the neighbors had definitely heard. But Derek couldn’t find it in himself to care. Stiles’ ass felt too fucking good for him to do anything but comply. Stiles’ mouth was open, but no sound came out as Derek fucked him. And fucked him good, just the way he knew his husband liked. 

Derek let go of Stiles’ hands, holding onto that slim waist as he pounded, in and out, in and out, eyes locked as he watched his cock disappear into that delicious, wet hole. Stiles met him back, thrust for thrust, but when Stiles’ hand slid under his body, Derek reached for his wrist, pulling his arm back until Stiles was locked into place. It didn’t take more than that for Stiles’ ass to clamp down on his cock and his orgasm to ignite. 

Derek held and fucked Stiles through his pleasure, his husband panting as he came down from his high. By the time Derek let him go, however, his cock was about ready to explode. And Stiles simply looked up at him, sleepy, but a smile tugging at his lips. And Derek knew it was okay. Stiles would never allow him to pull out anyway. So Derek let himself go and came. He came inside that wet heat until he couldn’t cum anymore. 

And when he collapsed, Stiles was ready for him this time. Those long fingers kneaded his thigh muscles, any part of Derek they could find. By the time Derek had found the strength to try and roll on his side, Stiles simply pulled him back, the oversensitive head of his cock sliding back past that used ring of muscle. They both groaned, laughing not a moment later. Derek might be the one unable to walk, after all.

But Stiles just snuggled further under the heat of Derek’s body and, soon enough, his breathing evened out. And Derek chuckled softly under his breath, actually feeling himself fall even more in love with his husband.

Stiles was thankful for the hand Derek kept around his shoulders and for the wine glass that kept magically refilling itself. The envelopes kept piling up on the ground, but Derek’s fingers continued softly massaging circles into his back. And handing him a tissue every once in a while. When Derek had asked him to sit on the couch for him, Stiles had done so without a second thought. And Derek had paced the living room for a quick second, enough hesitation in his movements to get Stiles’ attention.

Then Derek started pulling out the boxes. Box after box of what Stiles later found out were envelopes. Neatly organized stacks of brightly colored envelopes. Some were slim, some were thicker. And Derek sat next to him on the couch, with one of the boxes open at their feet. Derek had a piece of paper in hand, Stiles noticed, but one look at his husband’s face told him Derek had something very important to say.

“I’ve spent countless hours trying to come up with the best way to tell you this. But I failed miserably, so I’ll just say it. As we neared the sixth month of your sentence, these letters started arriving at the clinic” Stiles frowned, looking down at the box. It was one of those plastic bins you can find in any department store, but what it held inside… Stiles meant to reach for the first envelope, but Derek’s fingers softly reached for his wrist “From your fans, baby. These are letters from your fans”

“What?” Stiles searched Derek’s face, finding in his eyes a glimmer of pride he hadn’t noticed was there before. Derek’s hand pushed his hair away from his forehead, thumb caressing Stiles’ cheekbone softly.

“And we’re talking hundreds of thousands, Stiles. More and more just kept pouring into our PO box every week” Stiles eyed the other stack of boxes Derek had pulled from his office, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that those people, the exact same people who had witnessed the birth of the Movement and had kept it alive through adoring his work, had taken the time to contact him “I thought you might want to read them. See how much you mean to these people. And well, it got me thinking. That maybe, just maybe, the Spark Movement could continue. Under, uh… different circumstances”

“You mean legal ones?” The smile tugging at Stiles’ lips made Derek relax a little. He had feared what bringing the Movement up would do to Stiles. After spending what had been the best first day back together possible, Derek had tried talking himself out of this conversation. But he was happy they were having it now. Stiles needed to find out about the Foundation from him “What are you getting at, Der? Spill”

“I’ve spent the last six months in direct contact with fans from the Movement. Cora spent hours helping me create social media accounts and well… talk to people. See firsthand what the art world was missing from the Movement. And it wasn’t the snarky comebacks at magazines articles or the multi-million dollar paintings. It was the community you created, the attention you brought to genres people had long since chosen to ignore” Stiles knew where Derek was going. And he reached for his husband’s hand because he needed to remind himself that this was real. That Derek was real. Derek loved him, enough to try and keep the Movement alive without him. Derek knew what the Movement stood for and had gone out of his way to give it back to those who had loved it from day one “So, in came The Spark Foundation”

The paper Derek had been holding was a flyer. A gorgeous three-fold flyer in bright red letters. The cover was an amalgamation of his work, letting everyone know the Movement was alive and well. Stiles read through the flyer, tears pooling in his eyes. The building Derek had bought, the renovations, the… the art programs. It was the dream Stiles had whispered to him about. A way to allow art to heal people.

“You once told me how you wanted to create an inclusive art program that allowed children and teenagers to have what you didn’t” Stiles nodded, closing his eyes for a second. Derek’s fingers were gentle on his chin, coaxing him to look up into those green eyes. So tender and soft as Derek took in the tears spilling from his eyes. Derek softly kissed them away, making him smile “A way to express themselves, to find friendship and professional help inside the safe walls of a community center. So… happy anniversary, baby”

Stiles made Derek promise him they’d visit the Foundation the very next day. And with nothing but a smile and a nod, Derek made himself comfortable and just stayed there, giving whatever support his husband needed as he got through the letters. And answered the questions that randomly popped into Stiles’ head too.

“When you say the clinic was involved, what do you mean by that?” Stiles asked, taking a deep breath after finishing the first stack of letters. He wanted to get through all of them, but his emotions were all over the place as it was. He needed a breather and he turned to his husband, who looked deliciously sleepy, but managed a smile anyway.

“At first, the clinic was the official sponsor of the Foundation. We had been looking into expanding anyway, so we hired some new people. But for Foundation instead” Stiles nodded, looking at the pile of envelopes on the ground and the neatly stacked letters he had left on the coffee table. The outreach of the Foundation, Derek had said, had only worked to triple the amount of written responses they got. Stiles figured he’d get to that in maybe three months what with the speed he was going “And I would never trust anyone besides my own team to offer that kind of service. But, and it pains me to admit, I’m no expert in art therapy and things of the sort. So I had to find those who were. And Erika was more than happy to take over that part. However, I held out hope that you would oversee the art aspect. It is your anniversary gift, after all. Whatever you want, you can make it happen”

Derek gladly accepted the kiss Stiles pulled him into. It was slow and gentle, so unlike all the love they had desperately made the last twenty four hours. Stiles’ tongue tasted of the wine they were sharing and his hands were soft as his fingers ran through the longer strands of his hair. Derek would have had to be a fool not to notice how much Stiles liked it this way, and a fool Derek was not. He allowed Stiles to have this. A moment to thank him with his lips before finding a way to thank him with words. He would do anything to make Stiles happy. Hopefully this would finally be enough evidence for him.

“You always did spoil me, husband” Stiles whispered against his lips, their foreheads touching for a moment before Stiles pulled back. The happiness Derek saw in those eyes, in that smile… he could get through anything knowing this man was happy “I can’t wait to live the rest of my life with you”

The End