Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

War is ugly.

War is bloodstained clothes and crying families and entire countries ruined at the hand of the enemies, destroyed by terror and a loss of faith. War caused heartbreak and tears and hatred so deep the it could give the grand canyon a run for its money. War is horrible, and some know that more than others.

Derek was sent off to war in 1941, placed between France and Belgium to try and keep the german forces at bay. Every few days he was permitted a phone call home, and he cherished every one of those fifteen minute calls, because fifteen minutes of talking is worth so much more than an eternity of not.

"Hello, soldier," the boy started, and Derek could practically hear the smile on his lips. God how he missed those lips. His voice was tired, which bugged the younger man but he knew not to ask, it was bound to be work and the constant fear on Stiles' mind that Derek was going to die (Derek had once tried to assure Stiles that he wouldn't die, because so far nothing had proved he wasn't an immortal, Stiles didn't find it funny.)

"Hello, Stiles."

"How's all that fighting you're doing? Eh?"

Derek rolled his eyes- in a loving way- Stiles was just the antidote to his long days in the trenches. They truly did nothing. The German forces were focusing all their power on attacking the cold eastern border of Russia, so no fighting had been done since he got there. Not that he was complaining though; the idea of having to kill a man kept him up at night, his conscience told him if he were ever in that situation, to just shoot himself, and not take a mans life who was forced into the same position as him, who was as much a human and as scared as he was. But the idea of the brown haired boy waiting for him at home stopped any thoughts of that, as he would happily kill one hundred men to see that smile in real life once again.

"You still there, fighter boy?" Stiles' soft voice asked, bringing him back into the present, and making him realize how little time he actually had to talk to Stiles today. He longed for the times in his childhood where fifteen minutes seemed like an eternity, wishing he could turn their semi weekly calls into a lifetime of love and stupid conversations to make the other feel better.

"I'm still here-" Derek replied, inhaling quietly, "-how's everything at home?" he asks, wondering what its like for America right now. He knows Stiles is working in a science lab all day and sometimes even all night, trying to find cures for the assortments of gasses that the enemy forces had been rumored to be dropping on them. Derek was extremely appreciative that Stiles was willing to do so much for his country at so little price (although Stiles did say that ensuring Dereks health was good enough pay).

"Everything's okay I guess. I miss you, so does Checkers- she keeps laying on your side of the bed and looking sad- can cats even look sad? And she refuses to sit near your seat on the sofa, it's quite funny actually." Stiles finished with a quiet chuckle, and Derek laughed too. How much he wished he would be able to see, to hug his cat right now.

Derek turned to the side to see another soldier wave up four fingers to him- four minutes left.

"Stiles, we only have four minutes left, I'll make sure to send you a letter okay? Don't forget to water your dumb little plants and keep doing amazing in the lab, I believe in you," Derek rushed out, Trying to tell Stiles everything on his mind before the line was cut off.

"Don't worry about it okay? I'm the best plant dad out here,-" Stiles laughed out loud, making Dereks mouth curl up into a smile. "-keep fighting, soldier boy. You'll be sent home in like, two months, then you can come and see me for yourself."

Derek almost forgot about that—in two months he would be able to go home, to his house, his cat, his family, his Stiles.

"Hey Stiles, I-" Derek looked around quickly. making sure nobody was in earshot before mumbling, "I love you. Don't ever forget that."

Everyone but a select few believed Derek and Stiles were just roommates, best friends, the closest of buds. Nobody would suspect that before the warm, they would hold each other tight. Even in the sweltering summers of June, they would sleep with their limbs entangled with the others, keeping one another close. Nobody would guess that within their letters, Derek would messily scribble small sonnets on the back, reminding Stiles of all their small, undercover dates and late nights on top of their roof, staring at the stars. Within their letters Stiles would include pressed flowers he found pretty, wanting to fill Dereks boring army life with color (Derek never told him that a few times the flowers were horrible ugly colors, because he could hear Stiles' excitement when telling him how he acquired the flower).

"I love you too, Derek. I love you so much that time can't contain it," Stiles whispered, just so those two could hear.

"I have to go now, take care, tell my mom that France isn't as nice as she thinks and she should maybe not holiday here, especially when a war is occurring," Derek said humorously, making Stiles snort.

The call abruptly ended (like usual) and Derek passed the phone to the next man in line, who was waiting to call his loved ones.

Derek slowly walked towards his part of the trenches, where he and Scott shared a bunk bed in a small indoor barrack built for the American soldiers.

"You talk to your beloved?" Scott asked as soon as he sat down on his bunk. The younger male constantly teased Derek about his and Stiles' secret relationship, so this was actually a surprise that Scott wasn't being a little shit about it today.

"Uh yeah," Derek looked up to Scott, who had an unreadable expression on his face. "What's wrong with you?" He asked, genuinely worried for his friend.

"I've just been thinking, what if we don't go home? We both have people waiting for us. But how long for? I feel like we've been here for a decade even though its only been three years. It's almost 1945 and this wars been going on since 1939. We got told we would be back by December 1942. What if this war continues into the 1950's? Then what Derek. Then what."

Derek sat there silent. He couldn't deny that was Scott was thinking had never crossed through his head. That he had not spend nights awake, on the verge of tears about how he may not ever be able to play with Stiles' soft. Fluffy hair again, or how he might not be able to see his sister's high school graduation that she's so excited about in her letters. But those thoughts subsided when he got news that the German troops were retreating ever so slightly. He saw hope in the fact that he wasn't going to be shot at for a while.

"I can't tell you that we're going to be fine, but everything's looking up Scott. Haven't you heard about the Russians beating Germany's ass? Haven't you heard that so many of their troops have died while trying to reach the eastern borders? I have a strong feeling we will be home soon bud." Derek said as he got himself under the scratchy covers of his provided bed.

He and Scott shared a few last quiet words, before drifting into a slumber filled with hopes and imaginations of a brighter future with the ones they ever so truly loved.

Derek was awoken to the sound of a siren and Scott violently shaking him.

"German troops bombed and raided French town. We need to go now. Save the people." Scott rushed out, throwing clothes at Derek and going to wake other soldiers in the barrack.

Derek was slightly shocked as he hastily put on his shirt, his dogtags rattled slightly as he rustled around. He couldn't believe his first form of action was at 4:37am, and that was right now. He was shaking, but he didn't know if that was fear or adrenaline- all he knew was that he was ready to do what he could to save these people, and by what he had heard the others whispering about, it had been a severe bombing.

He and the other soldiers were packed like sardines in the back of a van, designed to take them to emergencies, such as this one.

They reached the town, and Derek saw why this was an urgent call out. The smell of smoke was prominent from miles away, but the sight of the mighty church, usually so tall and proud, being engulfed by the flames struck him in the heart. This was too real.

The doors opened and they were all told to find as many people as they could and take them to safety. They all scattered, but Derek and Scott stayed together. That was an unspoken promise each man made to the other, to stick together. They had been through everything together, knowing each other since they were in school, so they wouldn't let a silly war block their path, especially with Stiles not there with them.

They ran with intent, trying to reach the part of the town where the most injured people could be, so they could save them.

Before them lay two houses, parallel to each other, they could hear the screams of what sounded like a family in the one towards their left, so they ran in. This house was not yet affected by the fire, but at the rate it was eating the rest of the town, this house would not survive for much longer.

Scott and Derek ran up the flight of stairs, and found a man and his wife in what seemed to be the living room. They were both unconscious, and when they boys turned them over there were two gunshot wounds each in their bodies. Snipers. Luckily the snipers hadn't been successful, only hitting the couple on their legs and on the mans upper arm- they will survive.

They quickly heaved the two down the stairs, and took them to higher ground about fifty yards away, the fire could not get them here.

"L-Lily-"

The woman spoke. She was staring into Dereks eyes as she did. Her hand reaching out to him.

"Lily? Is that your name?" Derek asked politely, wondering what she was doing.

The woman shook her head, pointing to the house.

"L-Lily, Rae, m-my babies."

Derek and Scott looked at each other, knowing exactly what was happening. They ran, no, sprinted back towards the house. At this point, they were racing against the flames, which were edging closer and closer towards the house.

They ran up the stairs, and flung open the only closed door, to see two teenage girls huddled closely together, obviously terrified for their lives. While Scott approached them, something shiny caught Dereks eye, distracting him. He had a fainéant idea of what it could be, but he was sure it couldn't have been. Surely not?

"Don't worry, we're here to help you. C'mon lets go," Scott ushered, dragging them downstairs by their hands. It was only once they arrived downstairs it was that he realized Derek was not behind them.

"Derek are you good?" He shouted up to the older male, who had now only just realized.

"Scott! Get out of here!! The snipers they're-"

He couldn't finish his sentence. He didn't hear the gunshot, but he felt it. He could no longer see the sniper in the window of the house parallel to him, assuming they'd fled.

He reached to feel his stomach, eyes widening when he saw red, warm blood on his hand.

Scotts arms grasping around his upper body brought time back to him. He could faintly register the male shouting. Shouting to anyone that could hear them that they needed help, help urgently.

Nobody came. Did the rest of their team forget about them? It seemed so, nobody was coming to help them.

He was dragged by Scott until they reached where they had left the woman and her husband, who had been taken away by other soldiers to a hospital by now.

"Scott, why are you crying?" Derek asked, chuckling to himself at the younger man. He weakly held his arm up to jokingly smack his friends arm. "I'm going to be fine, I always am, remember when in sixth grade I-I-"

Since when was staying awake so hard? He couldn't finish him sentence through how sudden the need to fall into a slumber was.

"For fucks sake, Derek stay with me," Scott cried as he wrapped his own jumper around his friends torso.

That was when Derek realized. There was nothing he could do. He could feel himself loosing strength. His eyes were so heavy. His limbs had never felt like they were made of pure metal but now they did. He was dying. It would be long, and painful. Gunshots to the stomach always would be.

"Scott, can you do me a favor?" Derek asked, his voice was much softer than a moment ago, but then again a moment ago he didn't realize he would be dead within the hour.

"No, you're not fucking dying on me. Whatever you want me to do you can do it yourself because you're not going to die, you're not going to die you fucking hear me Derek?" Scott was sobbing at this point. Still trying to do what he could to help Derek. He was taking out the emergency bandages from his first aid kit and preparing to take off Dereks shirt.

"Scott, Scott. please. We both know what's happening." Derek said, grimacing at the sight of him blood covered clothes and his friends blood covered hands.

"Please give my tags to Stiles, he would want them, I know. Tell him I love him, I always have. Ever since he moved into our class during seventh grade I knew something was different about that little fucker, and here it is. I'm in love with him. Please don't let him be alone, I know him, he'll isolate himself, just like when his mom died. Please promise me to take care of him Scott, please." They were both crying at this point. There was no use trying to stop the flow of tears, more would be falling.

"You need to promise me you will make sure he's okay, I love him, so fucking much. Please tell him I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I never got to go with him to his hometown, or that I never got to take him to the Christmas fair we used to go to as kids. Tell him I'm sorry that I wasn't able to make it back, because I would do anything just to see him smile at something dumb again, or watch the stars try to outshine the ones he kept in his adorable fucking eyes. Tell him that every last moment was spent thinking of him, and his lips and his hugs that made me feel warm and fuzzy." Scott has moved him so he was leaning up against a tree, watching over the wrecked town as the rising sun illuminated it.

Scott was writing all of this down, he had a notepad he carried everywhere, and everything he was saying was being written down.

Derek wiped his lip and on his hand was more blood, it was bright red, still warm. It had come from his mouth- he didn't have much time left at all.

In a softer voice Derek spoke again.

"Please tell him that in the middle drawer in the cabinet next to my side of bed there's a ring. It's in a box that says Stiles' birthday on it, but I'm not too sure I'll be able to hold out until them. It's an engagement ring. I was planning on proposing when I got back from this dumb war. We could've gotten married in secret, and fled to the British countryside. Just me and you, forever and ever. I think fate had other plans though." Derek tried to laugh but it only hurt more, so he decided he would stop making jokes and get to the point.

"Please tell Stiles that I'm sorry this happened, I would've loved to grow old with you. Sti. I really would've. We could've had children, and told them stories of how I went to war but didn't do much fighting, just waiting. And how when I came back I proposed to you. That was the plan, because I would love to spend eternity wrapped up in your arms."

The end was so near, all Derek wanted to do was close his eyes.

"Please, say that I'm sorry that time wasn't on out side. Maybe in another lifetime? We're soulmates, we will meet again, I promise. I will wait for infinity and even a little more so I can love you again. We've run out of time Sti. I'm so sorry."

Derek finally turned to Scott, who was furiously wiping away his own tears. Derek couldn't muster up and life left in him to go anything but give a small smile and squeeze the youngers hand.

It was time to go.

He shut his eyes.

"I love you Stiles. I love you so much that time cant contain it."

He was right, time couldn't contain their love.

Chapter Text

War was cruel.

Stiles had been told about Derek's death over the phone- which was the last way that Scott wanted to have to tell him about it, but he couldn't have waited, not even a few more days. Stiles definitely had the right to know about his boyfriends passing when it happened.

The funeral was the week after Scott's regiment was excused from the trenches. Everyone who knew Derek was there- despite his threatening aura, he had acquired many weird and wonderful friendships over the years. Friends from high school, from his old part time job at the department store a few roads away, people who had the honor of meeting this man.

It was lovely- in a way- seeing people come together and celebrate Derek's life. During the ceremony, a priest spoke, which slightly annoyed Scott as he knew Derek would've hated someone he didn't know speaking about him, but it was Dereks family's choice. Stiles was obviously there, front row, farthest seat from the isle, his family sat along side him. Derek's family beside them.

Stiles had very obviously been hit hard by the news of Dereks death. He was thinner, he seemed more tired and wary when he spoke- as if the universe was trying to drag his soul down with Derek, screaming because this wasn't right. His voice was thin and shaky from the crying he had done, his eyes red and bloodshot from all the nights he had stayed up, hoping this was all a nightmare. After all, they had so long ahead of them, so many happy years to look forward to.

Stiles was wearing the ring that Derek had instructed Scott to give to the older, he hadn't taken it off since he had been given it. That and the dog tags he had tucked underneath his dress shirt were the only things he could keep on him at all times that would remind him of his boyfriend. The ring sat comfortably on his left hand. Scott noticed that whenever he was not holding anything, Stiles' right hand would immediately go to the ring, and twist it around his fingers. The cold metal was probably a type of comfort, and Scott couldn't judge him for that, after all, he himself hadn't turned to an exactly way of dealing with the loss of his best friend, but alcohol was better than nothing at this point.

After the funeral, Scott, Isaac and Derek and Stiles' families all went to Stiles and Derek's apartment, to have a few drinks and wallow in their own sadness.

Liam, Stiles' younger brother, was playing in the hallway with a wooden plane, blissfully oblivious to the situation that was happening. As far as he knew, Derek would be coming back soon, smiling and ready to tell him stories about his older brother during school. How little he knew about the truth of his absence.

The silence was so thick, yet so fragile. nobody wanted to speak but somebody needed to, it was tense and frankly almost awkward- considering the two families had known each other for the past ten or so years.

After an hour of small talk and heavy silence, Stiles' father spoke up.

"I think we should all go home, this has been a long day and we all need to rest," he said, mainly looking at Stiles' half asleep state, his third glass of wine on the table in between the two sofas.

Everyone agreed, hugging each other and exchanging sympathetic looks, aimed at Stiles.

Isaac and Scott said they would stay here to make sure Stiles would be okay and that he got to bed safely.

"Stiles, you wanna get to bed?" Isaac softly spoke, stroking the boy's brown hair, bringing him back to reality.

Stiles mumbled something indecipherable and turned his head to look at the door. Saying he was drunk was a bit of an understatement, he had already had a few drinks before the funeral, and sadness and wine didn't go down well- it never did.

Scott walked through the hallway and reached Dereks old record player, he stood frozen for a moment before bending down and examining his collections of records.

He smiled slightly, remembering the nights himself, Stiles, Derek and Isaac would hang out at this very apartment.

-

"Derek stop, I will literally kill you," Stiles laughed as Derek pulled him onto his feet, forcing him to dance to the series of Frank Sinatra songs he had on vinyl.

Derek simply took him by the hands and swayed them both around. Dancing in figures of four around the tiny living room, laughing to themselves, imagining how dumb they really did look.

"C'mon Isaac-" Scott nudged the other and pulled him up, grabbing his hands and swaying them both, much alive the other couple in the room.

All four of them were laughing now, the fun they were having was incredibly influenced by the bottles of wine they were splitting between themselves.

Thursday nights were always their nights, no matter what, they would religiously meet up and chat, listen to the radio. Even while Derek and Scott were stationed in France, Isaac and Stiles still met up, reminiscing about how fun this used to be, and how when their boys came back from fighting they would have to do this again. All four of them.

-

Scott was brought out of his memories by the feeling of a tear quickly running down his left cheek. He wiped it away quickly, knowing he had to be strong, purely because he was here with Stiles, who was in so much more pain than he was at that moment.

"i'll wait here," Stiles' drunken voice sounded through the room, Scott and Isaac looked at each other, not really knowing what Stiles was on about.

He looked at them as if they were stupid, as if what he was saying was completely obvious.

"I'll wait here for Derek, he always said he would be back soon." Stiles said, getting himself more comfortable in his seat and stared at the door.

Isaac's eyes welled up, saddened by the state his best friend was in.

"Stiles, he's not coming back. he's- he's, you know," Isaac said, sitting down next to the boy and wrapping his long arms around him, pulling him closely very carefully. He was almost treating him as if he were fragile chine, as if he would break at any moment, as if he would break and nobody would ever be able to find all the pieces again, no matter how hard you looked.

"But he always said he would come back, he told me we could go to the beach where he used to go with his sister. He said he would come back and show me his treehouse he made with his dad. Isaac he promised me." Stiles was at his tipping point now, he was sobbing into the younger boys chest, as Scott just watched as tears silently fell down his face.

He could recall Derek telling him about all his plans for him and Stiles when the war finished. When the storms got too loud, or the bombs were too close and noisy, Derek would always ramble about how him and Stiles would get married, how they could travel round America together, how they could try adopt two children, and care for them.

Derek always had giant hopes for him and Stiles. It was such a shame that they couldn't be carried out. Maybe in another lifetime.

The room had been silent for a few minutes, before Stiles spoke up again.

"Isaac, I miss him so much."

The three of them were all sobbing now. They all missed him.

"Why did he have to leave me?"

Isaac couldn't answer, he could only just rub the boy's back in circular motions, trying to soothe him slightly.

"I fucking hate him, he left me and I miss him so much."

Stiles had gotten up from Isaacs chest, but was still wrapped in his arms.

"I don't sleep because he isn't here, I just sit and stare at that door, or read through his old letters. I can hear his laugh when I read through what he's written. When I play his dumb fucking records I always think of us all dancing in this room. Everything reminds me of him and I hate this. Why can't he just be here and we could be happy. I just want to be happy Isaac. Why cant I just be happy?" Stiles cried, his voice was wavering and cracked whenever he was ending a phrase. He was staring at the wall, many polaroids of the two of them were stuck onto it. Happy memories that could be shown whenever, wherever. Time stopped in motion to capture the love in their eyes and the euphoria in their smiles.

No words were said for the rest of the night. They just stared into nothingness, knowing that they had lost someone so dear to them.

Someone irreplaceable in every aspect.

Someone who truly did not deserve the pain he endured.

Someone who was too young, someone who had plans and love to give.

So yes, war was ugly.

War was horrible, and Stiles knew that more than most.