Chapter Text
Look at the sun catcher, darling.
Oh no.
Stiles!
No way.
Stiles, What’s wrong?
This cannot be happening.
The same as before, the voices rose up, as Stiles stared up at the hanging light bulb. Stiles started to run away from the light, because he knew if he stayed, the visions would grow worse. He would have to face all the people he disappointed.
“NO! NO I-I'M TRYING MY BEST”, Stiles screamed, throwing his hands behind him to keep the voices at bay.
“Stiles?”
A voice broke through the room. Stiles froze.
“Stiles, it is okay, come here”.
Stiles turned in the near darkness, recognizing a door had appeared, almost like a backstage door. Light was shining through the edges. He quickly ran up to the door, throwing himself into it, not checking to see if the door was locked or not.
He had to shield his eyes from the bright light, but when he moved his hand away, he saw he was on top of a stage, illuminated by the many lights above.
He felt a hand reach for his arm.
“Stiles?”
Derek, in the flesh and blood, was staring down at him, his hand grabbing his arm to keep him from falling in between the beds. Stiles’s breathing was shallow and quick; he felt hot.
“Stiles? You are okay. I was just…you were asleep,” Derek spoke softly as he shifted to sit on the bed.
Blinking, Stiles sat up more in the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. “Yeah, I’m…I’m sorry. That doesn’t happen very often. I am sorry I woke you.”
Derek kept his eyes on Stiles, and he only gently released some of the pressure off of Stiles’s arm. He held on.
“Stiles, if you want to talk about it…my therapist says talking dreams out can be helpful. Sometimes they stop because of it”.
Stiles would normally make a sarcastic quip about how he didn’t think talking about it would get the dreams to stop. They started shortly after his first job out of university. He tried journaling, meditating, over the counter medication, and staying up to the point of utter exhaustion. Every so often, often without cause, the dream would return and rip through his subconscious. He feared nothing would stop them from coming.
Derek chuckled beside him, taking him out of his thoughts and back to reality.
“I say that, but I have a recurring dream too”. Derek looked introspective. Stiles moved his arm, bringing it lower so he was touching Derek’s wrist. “I think those kind of dreams, if you can call them that, are our brain’s way of processing what has happened to us. But they are not real. You are safe, you are okay.”
Stiles kept his gaze on Derek’s face. “Thank you”.
A knock came from the door. “Derek?”
The singer nodded as he shifted to the door. “Be right there”. He stood, leaving the light technician in his bed.
Stiles found himself rubbing his fingertips the entire elevator ride down, hanging behind everyone else. Jackson rubbed the bridge of his nose underneath his sunglasses. Issac groaned beside him.
“Last night…”
“Yeah, I know”.
“You guys should order virgin Caesars at breakfast. Ask for pickle juice instead of clamato”, Erica offered. “My sister swears by them”.
Jackson lolled his head towards her, but instead of making a comment, nodded slowly. Issac picked himself up from his crouched position on the floor.
“Erica, you got some Motrin on you?”
“You know it. Give me a second”. Exiting the elevator, Issac took a swing from his Powerade as he swallowed the pill. The band made their way to what had become their usual table at the restaurant for the breakfast buffet. Erica urged to two hungover men to try eating eggs and toast. “Get some carbs and protein into you! We gotta get you feeling one hundred percent by tonight”.
“Oh, I’ll be fine by tonight. If I don’t drive.”
“Same,” Issac raised a hand up in the air. “Next travel day, I promise”.
“We both will”.
“Well, I can drive the van,” Erica offered as she set her plate down, joining the conversation.
“I can drive the equipment van,” Stiles offered. “Peter did that last time. We have what, four and a half hours to Phoenix?”
“Give or take,” Peter nodded. “I think I will join the equipment van this time. Make sure you boys get your rest and electrolytes”, he said as he brought a hand onto Issac’s shoulder, to which Issac let out a strangled groan.
“I just need to know which vehicle Derek’s in, so I can stay close”. Braeden kept an eye on the group, raising her eyebrow at the two hungover men.
“I'll join Stiles”.
Stiles had to stop himself from releasing his fork and knife. It was true that him and Derek had not been left alone in the vehicles to drive. It was inevitable it would happen eventually.
“Wait,” Issac piped up. “What are you driving, Braeden?” To which Braeden answered with but a smirk.
When the vans were on the road later, Braeden kept a reasonable distance behind them on her Thunderbird motorcycle. She would speed up every so often to maneuver around traffic, but otherwise kept on the straight and narrow behind the vans.
Stiles kept his eyes largely on the road, but was aware of the presence beside him. Other than some short and quick comments about the weather, and traffic, there were not many conversations happening between them. If they were going to be in this van for the entire trip, Stiles wanted to make it count.
“SO, what do you dream about?” Stiles asked, pretty well instantly regretting his topic of choice as soon as it brushed past his lips.
Derek gave him an amused look at the unexpected question, but resumed looking ahead down the road.
“I always dream about my family. My home. I dream about the fire, but it never lasts long. I was never there, I was at school when it all happened, but my brain likes to make up what everything sounded like. Just for a few seconds. The worst part of those dreams are the silence. I hate silence. I prefer quiet, yes, but never silence. It reminds me too much…of being with Kate in New York. I used to spend all day in her apartment, never leaving, never exploring the city, and listening to the silence just…those dreams bring me back. Listening to her say my name snaps me right out of the dream. It’s like she’s right back in the room with me”.
Stiles took his eyes off the road when there was a large stretch of highway between him and the passenger van. He looked at Derek. “The voices are the worst”. Derek nodded with him.
Seeing the vulnerability in Derek, Stiles chose to let a little of his come out. “I worry about disappointing everyone. That is what my dreams are about. I can’t escape how I disappointed everyone in the past, and I would rather run into the pitch blackness than face them. I know it’s cowardice, but--”
“You are not a coward, Stiles”. Derek cutting him off made Stiles pause. “You’re not letting any of us down,” he offered as he pointed to the van ahead of them. “Maybe you did the best you could with what you had in the past, but I do not see you as anything other than…a great person”.
Stiles, taken aback if for a moment, melted into a certain kind of welcomed warmth as he looked on ahead. “I could say the same about you”.
Stiles chose to keep his eyes on the road ahead, but the conversations continued. From music, to travel, to Beacon Hills, the conversations kept them going until they were pulling into the hotel for the night.
“And then, I tell him something like, ‘well I define lying as ‘lying’ in a horizontal position or something like that. Then he rightfully kicked me out of the scene”.
“And you were looking for the deer carcass because…?”
“Derek, you grew up in Beacon Hills. You know nothing happens down there. So when two joggers mistakenly think a carcass is a dead human body, of course I’m going to go investigate.”
Derek shakes his head as he chuckles. Jackson comes up to tap the hood of the van. “You two coming?”
Making there way out of the van, Derek and Stiles join the group to divvy out room assignments. Boyd accepted the keys for him, Derek, and Stiles. Boyd slyly slid one into Stiles’s hand. Stiles gave Boyd a look, but when he was met with a nonchalant expression, Stiles chose to retrieve his bags.
Settling into the room, Stiles made a beeline to the desk, opening up his laptop and inserting his newest SD card in. He started searching through the photos he took of the band along the Vegas Strip. He felt a hand touch his shoulder.
“Stiles, these look great”.
Stiles smiled at Derek’s compliment as he scrolled on. “Thanks. I am going to pile some into an email to share with Erica. I can send some to you too if you give me your address.”
Later on, when the band was eating take out in Jackson and Issac’s room, Erica heard a "bing" ring out from her cellphone.
“That’s Instagram. One second”.
When she slid the notification open, she paused. She immediately stood and took her phone to Peter. Frowning, Peter reached for his cell phone, motioning to Braeden to come over.
Kate--using her fake account-- had not only liked all the new photos that were posted of the band, she had sent a string of DM’s to the band’s account, and one photo. It was a selfie, but taken over her shoulder as to avoid showing her face. She was in front of the “Welcome to the Fabulous Las Vegas Nevada” sign. Something about the photo unnerved Stiles, beyond the obvious, but he could not place it.
Braeden sighed. “She has not mentioned attending the show or staying at the hotel, and unless we can place here there, this just proves she was in Vegas at the same time, which is not grounds for an arrest. We will have to remain vigilant".
The group solemnly nodded. Peter took his phone away from his ear, covering the receiver. “I am on hold. I would not let this sour your night if you had intended in going out”.
Jackson stretched. “No offense to anyone else, but I think Lahey and I are going to turn in early”.
“I have not intention of making myself feel that bad on tour, again”. Issac agreed.
Cleaning up from dinner, the band made their way to their respective rooms. Peter chose to take a walk down to the lobby while on his phone call. Erica linked her arm in Boyd’s. “Want to see what’s on TV in my room?”
Boyd waved at the remaining group. “Don’t wait up”.
Braeden eyed the pair. “And what will you two do?”
“We will stay in,” Derek nodded, making his way into the room. “Good night, Braeden”.
Stiles said goodnight and followed him in. He had finished closing the door when a noise caught his attention. He turned in time to see Derek had fallen into the bed, taking the pillow and slamming it down beside him. In a breath, he brought the same pillow up to his face, breathing deeply into it.
Approaching him slowly, Stiles spoke, “Derek?”
Placing the pillow in his lap, Derek breathed, “I will not let her have this hold over me. If I do, she wins”.
Stiles went to stand in front of him. “So don’t”. Derek raised his eyes up to Stiles. “I have a plan”.
Derek had texted Braeden that he was with Stiles and they were staying in the hotel, but going for a walk together. Stiles pulled Derek away from the elevator and towards the staircase. Motioning up, they climbed the stairs until they reached the door for the roof.
“Stiles, I am sure this door is locked”.
“It’s surprisingly not armed, but give me a second”.
Stiles pulled out a Bobbie pin and a bent nail file. Derek looked on bewildered as Stiles worked away at the lock.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. I‘m not a saint. You’ll give yourself wrinkles”. Derek continued to stare at Stiles as he pushed open the door. When no alarm rang out, he walked through.He found a wooden block he assumed was used by the staff to keep the door propped open. He placed it in the door jam, closing the door quietly behind them.
The roof itself was nothing to write home about, but considering the height, it overlooked a great deal of downtown. Stiles went closer to the edge, raising his arms above his head.
“Stiles, why are we here?”
“Besides me showing off my pickpocket skills? I thought I could get you above everything for a little bit. Change your perspective”.
Derek looked around, taking in the view. He sighed, then smiled. Stiles joined beside him, looking out into the landscape. They stood for a long time, before the wind started to pick up.
“Do you ever want to just…scream?” Stiles said.
Derek regarded him for a moment before turning his attention to the skyline. Without warning, he let out a monstrous roar that caught Stiles off guard. Stiles turned to see Derek was smirking at him, his chest rising up and down. Stiles hooped and hollered, but directed Derek back towards the door, in case anyone came upstairs to investigate.
Making their way back down the stairs, Stiles had been laughing about almost getting caught by the door, when he stopped himself. Derek followed his gaze.
A large man was standing in the hallway, looking at all the rooms. He reached for the one closest to him, rattling the door and huffing when it would not open. Stiles stood frozen, unable to move. Derek grabbed his shoulder behind him.
The man turned. “The fuck you looking at, pussies”.
When the pair remained frozen, the man took a few running steps, raising his arm. “I said, who the fuck are you--”
The man said nothing else, as Braeden clothes lined him when she exited her room. She used her foot to roll him over onto his stomach, restraining his arms behind him.
Stiles was caught in the flurry of what happened next after Derek’s hand left his shoulder. Between the police, the hotel managers, and everyone on the floor, a lot of conversations and statements were made. When the man was in custody, Braeden turned to the group.
“No more late night walks. Stay in your rooms”.
Boyd squeezed Erica’s hand as he made his way back into Stiles and Derek’s room. He claimed the cot. The band tried their best to get a good nights sleep. In the morning, Braeden knocked on the door and gathered everyone into Peter’s room.
“The good news is, that the perp was not there for any of us. He was a stupid drunk who got turned around on which hotel was his, let alone what floor he was on. He is not a concern of ours anymore.”
“How did he get turned around on what hotel he was at? Was he that drunk?” Jackson crossed his arms.
“He says he cannot remember much,” Braeden shifted the weight on her legs, “He can recall someone pointing to this hotel, but nothing more”.
Peter stood tall amongst the group, but Stiles could not help but noticed the bags developing under his eyes. “Well, I believe the matter is settled. Why don’t we look for a place to grab some brunch. Shall we say, meet downstairs in fifteen?”
Stiles and Boyd made their way back to the room, but when Stiles turned around, he saw Derek had pulled Braeden aside and was speaking to her. She was nodding. Jackson and Issac came up behind Stiles, urging him to move forward. Later on, after returning from brunch, Derek and Braeden shared they were going to go to the hotel’s gym. Jackson expressed interest in joining. Issac elected to stay in and read some more of his books, while Boyd and Erica invited Stiles to come watch daytime movies in Erica’s room.
“You guys go on ahead. I can look at some things on my laptop”.
Left alone, Stiles booted up his laptop. Instead of pulling up more photos from the SD card, Stiles felt compelled to go digging into old folders in his gallery. He was chuckling over photos of him and Kira at graduation when Derek walked in and made his way into the bathroom to shower. Upon opening the door a few minutes later, a mist of steam entered the room. Stiles had to cough to stop himself from ogling a shirtless Derek walking around in black boxers.
“Is that your friend Kira?” Derek asked as he reached for a black, long sleeved shirt from his bag. He took out a pair of ripped black jeans with a silver belt and chains attached.
“Y-yeah, it is. We were at graduation here.” Stiles kept his eyes on the screen. When he felt Derek approach, he sucked in a breath, seeing how good Derek looked. He smelt like his conditioner, a wood pine smell that Stiles smelt faintly on him over the last few days. Another scent came from his neck.
‘Cologne?’
“Do you have any pictures from when you were in university?” Derek asked in a well intentioned, curious manner as he sat on the edge of the bed.
Stiles redirected his eyes to the screen to avoid looking frantic. “Some. I pretty much put my head down in university. I haven’t really looked at those files in a while. I should clean them up”, he spoke with a certain level of truth.
“Fair enough. I never really took to attending university. I wonder what it would be like”.
Stiles turned in his chair. “You would make a great student. You would take it seriously”.
“You think so,” Derek cocked an eyebrow.
“Oh yeah, way more serious than I did,” Stiles turned to face the screen. “I…got by”. Stiles could feel the weight from the half truth hang in the air, but Derek gave no impression he felt it too. “How was the gym?”
“It was good,” Derek shifted on the bed. “I asked Braeden to show me some self defense moves.”
Stiles nodded. It made sense to him for Derek to learn some self defense. They had not talked about the previous night, but considering everything that was going on, it could not hurt. Stiles was about to say something when a knock came from the door. Derek stood to open it, and greeted by his uncle.
“We will leave here soon to go to the venue. Are you both almost ready?”
Stiles closed up his laptop and gathered his bag with his lighting notes. “Yep!”
What was left unsaid stayed in the room.
~*~
Stiles was in the middle of the show when he felt the strange sensation of someone watching his back. Being in the middle of the room behind the lighting board, he usually thought nothing of it. People behind the barricade often were facing forward to watch the show. But something was still prickling the back of his neck. He rubbed it, turning over his shoulder to briefly scan the crowd. When he could not notice anything, he turned his attention to the stage and to Derek. There was a drop that was happening shortly where Stiles turned up the light show to match the tempo of the song. He moved his fingers up and down the board, flicking on lights and moving the faders down. He let the sensation pass him by, and he did not feel it for the rest of the night.
~*~
The next day, Stiles was tuning out the friendly debate happening in the transport van. The drive from Phoenix to Billings, the last stop on Banshee’s tour with the band, was an eighteen hour drive up several states. The band was going to break the trip up into two days, have a rest day, and then do the last show before making the trip back to Seattle. Stiles appreciated that the drive had allowed him to see more of the west coast and inner interior than he thought he would ever get to see. But there was a part of him that was missing home.
“Okay, but you’re telling me, that if aliens came down to earth and told you that the frequency we played music at is garbage, you wouldn’t change a thing?” Issac stared at Jackson from the drivers seat.
“I don’t care if God himself came down and said the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling looked like crap, you can’t fix art”.
“I’m not talking about the Sistine Chapel, bro”.
“Art is art. If God himself came down and told you all your favourite poets were crap, would you not defy him?”
“Where did God come into this? I thought you were discussing aliens,” Boyd sighed from the other side of Stiles.
“I agree with Boyd,” Derek said from the front. “I suggest you keep on the topic”.
“I’m making a point! You can bring in different points in debate! Besides, would Tom DeLonge change his music is aliens told him too?”
“Jackson,” Issac deadpanned, “Think about what you just said.”
Stiles chuckled as he reached for his phone. The cell service was spotty, but he sent a text to his dad and Kira to let them know they were puling into the hotel for the night soon. He received a “copy” from his dad and a picture of Kira and Scott giving him a thumbs up. He smiled at the picture.
Derek took several turns to reach the motel Peter gave him directions to. The band elected to find an unconscious motel in Provo rather than their original hotel in Salt Lake City. If Kate was indeed tracking their movements, they wanted to do everything they could to throw her off of their trail. Peter was never without his phone these days. He was constantly on some sort of call related to the tour. Braeden parked her bike, searching the near empty parking lot. She directed the vans to park on the far end of the lot. While still within eyesight of the motel, parking the passenger van on the other side of the equipment van hide it away from the main road.
Peter had checked them into the motel, handing everyone their old school room keys. He handed two pairs to Erica and Boyd before moving onto Braeden. Looking a little dumbfounded at first, Erica became giddy as Boyd smiled on. Peter handed Derek on key, and Stiles a different one. Jackson nudged Stiles.
“Let’s head up. Tomorrow’s going to be an early day”.
Stiles tried his best to hide his disappointment. He shook his head as he climbed the stairs behind Jackson.
His sleep that night was not as restful as it had been.
Rubbing his eyes the next morning, he nearly missed bumping into Derek on his way down to the vans. Derek held him steady.
“Rough night?”
Stiles blinked. “Yeah”.
“Same here,” Derek rolled his shoulders back, as if to release them. Issac called up to them, telling them to hurry up. Stiles followed behind Derek, wondering what kept him up.
The travel day was much like the first. There were a few more stops along the way for food and stretch breaks. Stiles remembered poking fun at Derek when he winced at the state of gas station sandwiches while Boyd and Issac argued about the quality of the best trail mix. Erica and Jackson rolled their eyes as they got their provision of drinks. Peter was paying for the gas in the vehicles while Braeden topped up her bike.
Upon arriving in Billings, the band was ready to stretch their legs and relax. Boyd pointed out that their hotel had a pool on site. Stiles could have sworn he heard there was a consensus to all go down together after dinner, but when he arrived, he found Derek waiting in the hot tub. Braeden was lounging on one of the pool chairs. She had a laptop open in front of her, typing away as she looked back through her phone. Stiles joined Derek in the hot tub. They spoke for a while before Stiles chose to lean his head back, resting it against the cool tile. He could feel his hair getting longer in the back. It reminded him of when he kept his hair shaved close to a buzzed cut when he was in high school.
I should ask Erica if she can give me a trim.
He glanced over at Derek. He was waving to Braeden, who indicated she was going to go talk to Peter. Taking her laptop with her, she let the door close behind her. Derek chose to lean his head back as well. Over the course of their time together, Derek had shifted closer to Stiles. There was a gap between them, but their shoulders were almost touching. He let out a sigh.
“This is nice”. Derek closed his eyes. Stiles could see the bags under his eyes.
Stiles turned his attention up to the ceiling. “Yeah, this is”. He sunk further into the water, letting the heat cover up to his shoulders.
After while, Stiles nudged Derek to come into the pool with him. They chatted and splashed around for a while. Stiles could see Derek relax more, letting his shoulders drop down. They were both face up, floating in the pool, when a staff member opened the door.
“The pool will be closing in five minutes”.
Stiles sat up. “Wait, is it eleven o clock?”. Derek sighed as he made his way to the pool ladder. “Oh man, we really lost track of time”.
The pair dried off and made their way up to their rooms. When Derek went to try the door to the room he was sharing with Jackson, he found the key did not work. Stiles tried his room and found it worked fine. Poking his head in, he found the other bed was still freshly made and unoccupied.
“Maybe there was a mix up in the rooms? Did Issac go and sleep in the other room?” Derek wondered aloud.
Stiles paused before he motioned to Derek. “Just come in”.
Derek did not argue with him. He followed him into the room.
~*~
“You both look better this morning,” Issac raised his eyebrows to the pair as they approached the table for brunch.
“Slept like a dream,” Stiles stretched his arms. “Although I think there was a mix up with the keys”.
“Oh…was there? I don’t think there was, was there Jackson?” Issac leaned himself back towards Jackson.
“No, no I don’t think there was”. Jackson took a sip of his coffee. Before Stiles could argue about the smug look on his face, Boyd and Erica arrived to push Stiles and Derek to sit down. They spent the rest of the brunch with their knees touching, but neither of them moved away from the other.
When the band was in the lobby later, there were some discussions about what to do with their rest day. Erica, Boyd, Jackson, and Issac were interested in checking out some of the art museums in the area. Braeden and Derek said they were going to train in the onsite gym. Peter wanted to stay in to catch up on some emails and give Cora a call.
“Let me know when you call her and I’ll join,” Derek leaned in to his uncle. “You should try and nap”, he whispered. Peter waved him off and wished the group a pleasant trip out. Not wanting to stay in the hotel by himself, Stiles elected to go out. He brought his camera with him, with little prompting from Erica.
Boyd was hailing a taxi when Erica commented aloud, “I wonder how training is going”.
“Oh, as you would expect,” Jackson rolled his head, “They have to get up close and personal to train--” Jackson moved out of the way of Issac’s incoming elbow to the ribs. He grumbled something Stiles could not catch. Filing into the taxi, Stiles let the comment hang behind at the hotel.
~*~
Derek met the gang in the lobby upon their arrival back to the hotel in the evening. He wanted to hear how everything went. The gang had elected to go to several art museums and a wine and cellar for a late lunch. They were recounting their day as they rode back up the elevator.
“Did you have fun,” Derek turned to Stiles. “Did you take lots of photos?”
Stiles beamed. “Yeah, I got some really great ones. Want to come see?”
Closing the door of their room and booting up his laptop, Stiles took a lot of pride in showing Derek what he had taken, explaining the lens and angles he chose. Derek smiled.
“It is good to see you like this. Erica had remarked that you had put down photography for a while. Glad to see you picked it back up”.
Stiles glanced up at Derek and did a double take. The curtains of their room had been pushed back, and the setting sun was casting shadows across the wall. Opposite of the desk was a love seat that matched the warm orange hue of the room.
“Derek?”
“Stiles?”
“Can you…never mind”.
Derek followed Stiles’s gaze to the love seat. He stood and sat himself down. Wordlessly, he waited for some direction from Stiles. Stiles absently reached for his camera, taking off the cover and fiddling with the settings. “Can you… lean back on the couch and turn your body towards the window. You can keep your legs open if you’re comfortable. Bring your left hand up towards you. Like that, exactly like that”. He brought the camera up to his eye, focusing on the subject in front of him. As if the sun was hitting a reflective surface outside, the light had shifted to cross over Derek entirely. He was covered in a warm glow. The black he was wearing was striking against the colours, but suited Derek so well. He was wearing a black tee shirt, with his tattoos peaking out from the sleeve or on full display down his arms.
“Hold it right there”. Click. “Right there”. Stiles took more photos, getting into different angles. At one point, Derek leaned his head back towards Stiles, his eyes half closed because of the sun reflecting on his face. Stiles almost lost his breath but he took the shot. The sun faded as if it was disappearing behind a building, leaving the room almost in darkness, save for the lamp and front entry way.
“Stiles. May I see them?” Derek asked. Stiles could have sworn he was being shy.
Bringing up the gallery, he felt Derek slide in beside him. He felt Derek become rigged beside him as he clicked through the photos.
“You hate them?” Stiles glanced over his shoulder. He was met with hooded, intense eyes.
“Stiles. I love them. I feel…good? Attractive?”
Stiles raised his face fully to Derek’s. “I mean, you are. Attractive that is”.
Stiles felt a strong pair of hands grip the sides of his face, turning him more into Derek’s body. He felt a pair of lips crash into his. They were strong and firm, yet warm. Stiles kept a death grip on his camera, not wanting to drop it, but not wanting to move either. As quickly as the kiss came, he felt cool air as Derek’s lips moved away. He felt Derek’s forehead on his.
“Stiles…I’m sorry. I…” Derek’s eyes met with Stiles. “I--”
“Don’t. Derek, don’t. It’s okay”.
“You made me feel so…desired with those pictures. Like, I’m worth…”
“You are, Derek,” Stiles set his camera down on the desk. “You are”.
“Stiles, I am not worth it”. Stiles was taken aback by the honest vulnerability in Derek’s voice.
Stiles reached his hands up to cup Derek’s face. “Derek. You are”.
Derek’s eyes searched Stiles’s face before sighing. He turned away, but reached for Stiles’s hands, holding them.
“I am fucked up, Stiles.”
“And you think I’m not? Kettle, meet teapot.”
“Stiles,” he turned to face him again, dropping his hands to his side. “I…”
“We don’t have to have everything figured out,” Stiles spoke softly, reaching for Derek’s hand to grip the finger tips. “We can just…see where this goes?”
Derek’s chest raised up and down. He took a pause before nodding.
“Let’s get through this tour,” Stiles offered. “Let’s focus on what we have to do, and get home. We can have more time to talk then”.
Derek nodded again. He squeezed his hand before he moved towards the door. “I need a walk. I am okay. I am sorry--”
“I’m not”, Stiles said matter of fact. “I am not sorry. But I get it. Go take what time you need”.
Derek gave him a soft smile as he grabbed his phone and the hotel key. Hearing the door click closed, Stiles stayed motionless in the room before he fell onto the nearest bed. Spraying out on the sheets, Stiles let out a huff before the memory of what transpired came rushing back to him. He felt his body temperature rise as he leapt off the bed towards his camera. Waking it up again, he scanned over the photos he just took. He booted up his laptop, inserting the SD card into the slot. He moved the photos off of his camera, and put them into a secure folder buried deep in his gallery. As he was confirming the transfer, he peeked through the photos again. He couldn’t help staring at Derek. His face, his body, the way the light reflected off the cool expression on his face. When he came to the pictures where Derek was staring right at the camera. He felt the heat rise all over his body again.
Feeling a tightness in his core, Stiles rubbed his hand over his face.
‘Great. Wonderful. Great timing’.
Shutting off his laptop, Stiles walked into the bathroom and ran the hot water for a shower. Staring at himself at the foggy mirror, Stiles made the decision to lock the door and strip off his clothes. His desire was apparent, everywhere. He stepped into the warmth of the shower, closing the curtain behind him. He stuck his head under the stream, looking down the drain. He had not felt this way in…months. Maybe a year. His anxiety, the depression, how he would have to hustle to make money for rent; they did not allow him time and energy to feel any sort of sensual sensation. His mind went towards every little touch him and Derek had exchanged over the course of the tour, culminating with the kiss that had just happened. He did not stop himself from reaching down between his legs to his thoughts carry him away.
Later, he had the room lights turned off, but he refused to relax until he heard the key card beep against the door. He heard Derek slip in quietly and start to run the shower. Derek stayed in the bathroom for a while before Stiles heard the water turn off and Derek moved around to rinse his face in the sink. When Derek climbed into the bed opposite him, Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. This time, it was Stiles who fell asleep first, before he could hear Derek’s soft breathing.
He let sleep overtake him. That night, he did not dream, but he did not have any nightmares either. He slept soundly.