Chapter Text
Stiles was released on a Thursday. It was drizzly outside. He felt tired, but it felt like a real tired, like from how he had spent the last few hours running down the hall to say goodbye to his nurses tired. He was happy to go home, with only one pain medication in his hand.
Derek hadn’t returned since the first time he came.
He tried not to think about that as his dad pulled up in the cruiser, Scott in the passenger seat. Stiles stood up from the wheelchair. “Aw, come on, I have to ride in the back? What am I, a criminal?”
His dad got out to open the door, huffing. “Consider it your punishment for doing the world’s stupidest idea.”
Stiles colored, remembering how lenient his dad had been during his stay in the hospital about harping about his poor decision. “Is that my only punishment?”
“As of right now,” He sighed.
Stiles had someone to thank up there.
Stiles let himself be tucked into the backseat, leaned against the seat as relaxation took him. The hospital always made him uneasy, and after the doctor looked at the last X-ray and said his fracture was healed enough for him to do regular things, he was out.
The Sheriff slid back into the driver’s seat, starting the car. Stiles felt a spark of excitement, ready to go home. He wondered why his dad didn’t just bring the jeep - it wasn’t like he didn’t have a key. “Uh, Dad, where’s the Jeep?”
“It was impounded.” His dad responded, waving off Stiles’ squawking. “For when you were kidnapped - it was evidence. I should be able to pick it up in a few days for you.”
“Okay.” Stiles pouted. He understood that he was in danger, and the Jeep was at the ‘crime’ but he still hated being limited that way.
“In the meantime, you can study.” His dad continued on.
“For what?” Stiles asked, incredulous, before he remembered. He had missed finals. “So, what finals do I have to take? Are there any you’re willing to let me skip?” He would take the C’s, he would rather not do it than fail.
“The school is willing to let you skip most, actually.”
“Really?” Stiles smiled, excited to keep his grades.
“Yeah, dude.” Scott turned around, finally looking at his friend. He had been distracted by his phone since then, probably texting a love note to Allison. Speaking of which… “After they heard about the situation, they said if the grade was good enough, they wouldn’t make you test.”
“That’s awesome. Where’s my phone?”
His dad and Scott shot a look to each other, and Stiles’ anxiety went up a few notches. “It was either taken by the people who took you, or was destroyed.” His dad admitted. “But I have another one coming in from the company, and it should have all your stuff still on it. It’ll be just as good as the old one.”
They were on his street now, pulling slowly by the houses. A few kids played outside, stopping to stare at the police vehicle. They wore bathingsuits with tee-shirts over them, enjoying the cool mist that was out right then. “Speaking of those people, who were they? Is Peter okay? Was he one of them?” Ever since Stiles’ brain had cleared up, only sedatives had stopped him from questioning about what happened. But he always got the same reply.
His dad looked firmly at him through the mirror. “Let’s wait until you’re fully healthy again.”
--
The phone arrived the same day as the Jeep came back to the house. It was the best day since Stiles got home. He quickly got cabin fever, tired of scrolling through Facebook and seeing people talking about him, but not actually saying what happened. He excitedly ripped open the package - his dad at work, so he didn’t have to wait for him to give Stiles a talk.
The phone needed to charge, but as soon as it was ready to turn on, Stiles lit up the screen. And was immediately bombarded by notifications.
Thirteen messages from Allison, and two missed calls. Four texts from Jackson. Seven missed calls from Lydia. Twenty eight texts and nine calls from Scott. Even three texts and a call from Danny.
Nothing from Derek.
Something hit Stiles low in the gut. It felt like ice water, and he couldn’t breathe. His brain tried to rationalize things. Derek and him preferred to hang out. Derek wouldn’t text him unless Stiles texted him, and by the time he found out about Stiles, it was probably over.
That was it. That had to be it. Stiles opened his contact with shaking fingers and pressed the call button. There were a few rings and then it went to voicemail. “Derek?” His voice sounded tiny. “Hey, it’s Stiles. I don’t know if you know but I just got out of the hospital. I was hoping to see you soon, I miss you. I’ve been missing you. Give me a call?”
Stiles waited for three hours before he shot a text.
Stiles: Hey. Call me
--
It was four text messages, two voicemails and six calls later Derek picked up. It had been three days, three days of Stiles studying and anxiously checking his phone. Three days long enough to make his head low-grade throb.
“Stiles.” His voice sounded cold, but Stiles felt relief.
“Derek?” Stiles responded, almost giddy to hear his voice. “Oh, thank god, I thought they transferred the wrong number. Don’t do that to me, you’d make me think something terrible had…” Stiles trailed off, realizing what he said.
“Happened?” Derek guessed. “Like with you? What do you need?”
HIs tone was short, tired, and it made Stiles flinch back for a minute. “I don’t need anything. I just - I wanted to talk to you.”
“Why?” He asked blankly. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Oh,” Stiles said dumbly. “Okay.” The line went dead.
--
Stiles took his finals. Both of them - English and Biology. He played video games with Scott, and went shopping with Allison and even tolerated a chick flick marathon with Lydia.
He didn’t talk about Derek. He kept all the messages.
Second semester rolled around. People started asking, but Stiles just shrugged it off. His friends finally started to get the message. Derek started sitting outside again, avoiding Stiles’ eyes whenever they crossed paths, looking as angry as the first day.
It was rumored that him and Jackson got into a fight one day after school.
Stiles ate the food he made his dad at night. He did his homework. He lay in bed for hours, too cold to fall asleep, too tired to get up. He went to school, or to the movies, or to a party.
He was living, but he didn’t feel alive.
--
March came, bringing spring, and the first time he talked to Derek again. He was just scurrying across the parking lot, trying to get home to do the next task to fill his mind, when he ran into someone.
Their binder spilled things everywhere, papers fluttering in the dry wind. “Sorry,” Stiles muttered, stooping to pick up the pages.
“It’s okay.” And Stiles would know the voice anywhere, and as he clutched multiple AP papers, he looked up.
Derek stared back at him, looking as shocked as he felt. His eyes had a bruising around them, similar to the tired one around Stiles’. His lips were pulled down, his shoulders drooped.
He grabbed at the papers, quickly standing and walking away. Stiles stayed where he was, aware of one thing.
Derek was suffering just like him.
--
“Then just talk to him!” Lydia’s voice cut through the static. Stiles had just spilled to her everything, after keeping it in for so long. She was the one that pried for longest, until Stiles finally screamed at her to leave him alone. Incidentally, this is the first time they talked one-on-one since then.
“He already said he didn’t want to talk to me.” Stiles said glumly.
“How long ago was that?” She demanded. “I don’t give a damn what he said, he obviously lied, so you are going to march yourself up to his house, or so help me I will.”
Stiles knew that tone. He knew the look that accompanied it, the one filled with fire that could light up anyone and get them out of the way. Hellfire. That’s what he called it.
So he loaded his ass into his Jeep, and sat shaking on the road up to Derek’s house. He didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to force anything from Derek. His head was almost completely healed, but anyone would say what he was doing was stupid.
Stiles pulled up to the house, which looked the same as it did the last time he was there. Only three cars were parked out in the driveway, a black Camaro was a new edition. Stiles did what any strong man would do - start to back up. Until Laura stepped out the porch and waved him down.
Fuck.
“Stiles,” She jogged up to the car, a little breathless. “What are you doing here?”
“Just leaving,” Stiles looked down at his lap, blushing furiously. “It was a bad idea to come up here.”
“I don’t think so.” Laura disagreed. Stiles’ head snapped up, shocked. “I mean, Derek isn’t here right now, but you could wait for him.” She suggested, a blush coloring her cheeks.
“You want me...to wait for Derek?” Stiles asked blankly. “You?”
She sighed. “Get out of the car, Stiles.”
“It’s a Jeep,” Stiles still parked and got out. “So...what’s this about?” Stiles didn’t trust her, mainly because they were on strained, polite terms about four months ago.
“Do you want to come inside?” She responded. There was no answer to his question, but that didn’t surprise him.
“Sure, you want to explain?”
“I will, I will.” She waved him off, stepping toward the house. She kept an awkward distance away from him, slightly too large to be comfortable. Stiles didn’t understand why she was so keen to let him come in anyway.
“Derek went with our mom to go pick up the kids. Aunt Ritsa wasn’t feeling well today.” She informed him, opening the door.
Stiles stepped into the foreign and completely same as before home. He breathed in, forgetting how this place felt like home a few months ago. Now it made him feel hollow at the center.
“Do you know what happened?” Stiles asked suddenly. He knew what he meant - what happened with Derek, why Derek backed off - but she took it differently.
“Yeah, it involved my family too.” She replied, walking into the blue room. Stiles hesitated at the doorway, feeling distinct deja vu. “I didn’t expect Peter to go back to jail.”
What? “What?”
Laura patted the seat next to her on the couch. Stiles remembered playing with Aubree on the floor there, Camilla helping him and Derek learn biology. He took another breath, and stepped over to her.
“You didn’t know that?” She asked.
“No one’s told me anything about what happened. It’s all just really fuzzy to me.” Stiles sighed. “I know I got kidnapped.”
“Why were you following Uncle Peter?” For the first time, Laura’s face darkened towards him.
Stiles held up his hands. “Someone was taking my Adderal.” He paused for a minute, trying to word things right. “Derek...he told me about why Peter wasn’t here and I didn’t want to point the finger, but when I found out he was taking it - I had to know why.”
“Are you satisfied now, then?”
“I don’t even know why yet!” Stiles exclaimed. Everyone kept expecting him to get stuff without actually telling him. It had been four months, and still he knew nothing. He even went online - and all it talked about was the Sheriff’s son, kidnapped by the local group of thugs.
It didn’t even tell him if they caught Kate.
And everytime he tried to bring it up to his dad, even sitting down at the table to have a serious conversation, he skirted around it. Stiles thinks his dad even told his friends not to, which normally wouldn’t stop them, but nothing got leaked to him.
“He was taking your medication to sell.” Laura said slowly. “Because he was in-debt to the gang. Which Kate Argent was a part of.”
“So they finally caught her?”
Laura smiled, sadly. “Yeah, they got Kate. It’s funny, I didn’t think she could even bad. She always just seemed so genuine to me.”
“Just because someone seems good doesn’t mean they are.” Stiles let the words settle, before he spoke again. He put more force behind these words. “Just because you’ve been told someone’s bad doesn’t mean they are.”
They locked eyes, and she seemed to realize what he was saying. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I’m trying. I’m sorry.”
Stiles nodded, happy for the step in the right direction. It was no where where they needed to be, but an apology was an apology. “So what happened?”
“Uncle Peter came home that night. He was really badly beaten up, but you know - you know Uncle Peter - he probably didn’t get it as bad as he should have.” Even Laura winced at her choice of words. “Mom was furious, she had no idea what happened. There was a lot of yelling, and then Uncle Peter called the police.”
“Why’d he call the police?” She looked at him like he was stupid. “Oh. He called, for me?”
“You’re probably his favorite, you know.” Laura sighed. “It took a few days, and there was a lot of people around the house. Derek blames himself.”
“What?!” Derek was a complete idiot.
“Come on, you know how Derek is. A cloud in the sky, and it’s his fault.” Laura shook her head. “He got it in his head, that if you didn’t get so close to him, you would have never got involved in the whole thing and broke your head.”
“We both know that my head was always broken.” Stiles blurted out. They both laughed for a moment, before a bit of anger seeped back into Stiles. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”
“Right now, he’s kind of being even more glum than usual. Which is why you’re staying here until he gets home.” Laura said determinedly. “I don’t care if I have to deal with your weird gay shit, I just want him to stop angsting everywhere. Please.”
“I tried talking to him a couple months ago.” Stiles said quietly. “It didn’t work so well.”
“Stiles,” She said softly. “I know you might feel like you’re stepping in where you’re not wanted, but Derek misses you. You were good for him. We all miss you.”
Today, Stiles wasn’t planning on having a heart to heart with Laura, of all people, but here he was. And her words were actually helping him. “Just, stay for a bit. Okay?”
Stiles nodded. He and Derek did need to talk - or more specifically, he needed to yell at him.
--
Derek got home an hour later. An hour and seventeen minutes later. And Stiles would know, because he checked his phone every two minutes. Laura had sat with him for the first thirty minutes or so, as a polite thing to do, and also to make sure he didn’t leave. It still felt a bit strenuous to be around her.
He could hear the kids falling over each other to get in the house, Haleigh’s high laugh and Jack telling her to move. Talia was probably ushering them all in, making sure that none of them hurt each other. Stiles wondered if Derek would just walk past the room, or would notice him.
He wasn’t going to give him a chance to walk by him again, dammit.
The kids ran past, only Bailey noticing Stiles in the doorway. His eyes got big for a second, he opened his mouth, and then - then he closed it. He smiled and darted away. Derek came in a few minutes later, shoulders hunched.
“Derek.” Stiles’ throat was so dry. It took everything to force his name out. But Derek heard, of course he heard.
“Stiles?” He blinked a couple times, acting as if Stiles’ was a mirage. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk.” And just like that, the Derek of the past few months was back. His eyes clsoed off, a cold wall blocking his emotions and his arms folding across his chest.
“Did you not get the message the first time?” He said bluntly. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Stiles winced. Those words still cut him, but it wasn’t real. Derek was fucking lying, the fucker. “Let’s go outside.”
Derek sighed, acting as if Stiles was a nuisance. “I don’t want to go outside, I don’t want to,”
“Outside.” Stiles’ voice cut sharp. He was done with this bullshit, done with it today. He pushed close to Derek, grabbing his wrist and tugging. Derek let himself be dragged, not ripping away like he could.
Stiles got them to the treeline before he dropped Derek’s wrist. “Asshole, listen here.” Stiles was done. No, Stiles was sick of Derek’s self-sacrificing, angsting, super-blaming self. “I have let myself believe for the past month that you were upset at me - and over what? But you know what, I’m upset at you.”
Derek looked shocked, taking a step back. He had nothing to say, which was good because Stiles wasn’t done yet. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me. You don’t get to decide if it was your fault. It was my fault, because I knew where I was going when I went, and I still went. So, you can take that scraificial bull-shit and shove it straight back up your ass.” Stiles took a deep breath in, the warming air filling him. “All that I want is to be happy and for you to be happy. And I think I can make you happy.”
Only the last part of his speech had his voice wavering. The rest he was sure of, but what if this was just the way for Derek to get rid of him. Stiles stood staring at him, and Derek kept quiet. Minutes trickled by, and Stiles’ breathing got louder to his ears by the second.
“I want you to be safe.” Derek finally said, not a hint of lie in his voice.
Stiles felt a laugh bubble out of him, slightly hysteric. “Well, you’re not going to get that. I’m the clumsiest person that I know, I’ve fallen down a stair and broken my wrist. And if it’s not me that’s putting me in danger - I’m the Sheriff’s son. His only kid! So if someone is upset at him, it usually lashes onto me. I’m not going to be safe cause that’s not a possibility.”
Derek opened his mouth, but Stiles threw up his hand. “So you cut me off - cut me out - because you wanted to protect me?”
Derek had the decency to look chastised. Stiles shot him a hard stare, one that should show him just how he was feeling. Derek didn’t speak - which was a good idea - he just nodded. “Well, you can’t do that. I’m not letting you.” Stiles said determinedly.
“What?”
“You can’t cut me out just because you’re scared I might get hurt. Or, that I have been hurt. Do you know what really hurt me?” Stiles paused. “When you dropped me. You want to protect me - keep me safe? Then don’t leave me.”
Stiles didn’t want to cry, he was supposed to be the angry one right now. “I’m sorry.” Derek started.
“No, that’s it.” Stiles interrupted, his voice wobbly. “You don’t say anything after that. There’s not going to be a but.”
Derek sighed.
“Derek?” Stiles was tired of the conversation, was tired of the fight. “If you really don’t want me, don’t want me here, then tell me, and I’ll leave. But if you do - and you’re just trying to be the hero - get your head out of your ass and tell me so.”
Stiles waited, patiently knowing that he could very well be told to leave and never come back. Derek moved towards him, after a tense moment, and Stiles could feel his heart beating out of his chest.
Derek was going to walk past him.
He wasn’t even going to respond.
Stiles was an idiot.
Instead, Derek snagged his wrist. “Thank you,” He breathed, leaning closer to Stiles. It was personally the best kiss Stiles ever got.