Chapter Text
Derek decided to return to his loft on the third day mostly because he needed a bath and his wallet. He also needed his clothes and to probably pack some things, maybe put the building for sale or rent it, he wasn’t sure.
Driving non stop helped Derek thinking about some things. One of them was that there was nothing left for him in Beacon Hills, and it was time to move. Once the story about the catfishing became common knowledge, Derek would land solidly in the omega position, an unwanted one at that. It was better to leave before things got even more critical.
If maybe the true reason was that everybody he knew would hate him and side with Stiles (with good reason), and he would rather spare himself the painful humiliation, then well, who could blame him? He might deserve it, but that didn’t mean Derek was willing to go through it.
Derek also realized that he should have known that his attraction to Stiles would end badly. It was, from the beginning, a tragedy waiting to happen, and then it did happen. Derek should have known he would find a way to mess things up in the end; he just never expected to things to go so wrong. Derek never imagined that Stiles would go to such lengths to punish him. Even three days later, remembering their talk made something ugly and painful burn in Derek’s stomach. Shame, he imagined, humiliation, and the worst of all, his shattered hopes that maybe, just maybe, things would work out in the end.
Parking his car in his usual spot, Derek realized that would probably be the last time he would do so. He had grown comfortable in Beacon Hills, and had never noticed it happening. At some point , it regained a sense of home he was reluctant to let go. Derek knew he had to, though, so he entered the building and went up to his apartment with a sense of finality.
If maybe Derek had been paying attention, he would have noticed Stiles before he did. As it was, he had been distracted by his own thoughts, and he only saw Stiles when he slid the door of his loft open.
Stiles sat on the couch, bouncing his leg continuously, while fiddling with his phone. Derek noticed his tiredness, the dark marks under his eyes and the nervous tick of his ever moving hands. He looked up the moment Derek opened the door, his amber eyes zeroing on Derek with intensity.
“Finally, ” Stiles said, and stood up. His voice wavered, a mix of relief and anxiety, and Derek stood frozen on the doorstep."I wondered if you were going to appear today at all or if I would need to stay here one more day."
“One more day?” Derek asked, despite his wariness. He needed to leave, but he couldn’t move.
“I’ve been here since yesterday.” Stiles shrugged, and stepped forward, “Came to wait for you. I knew you would need to come back—or I hoped you would anyway."
Stiles stopped considerably far from Derek, but that space seemed too little. Irrelevant. It didn’t matter to Derek, because he couldn’t leave. Plus, Stiles was there, and Derek had no idea what would happen now.
Derek blinked, hesitated for a moment, before sliding the door of the loft closed. Stiles didn’t react in any way that seemed contrary to the gesture, so Derek just shut it and leaned against it.
“I didn’t see the Jeep parked outside,” Derek said, as a question of sorts. There was no Jeep parked, he was sure. Unless Stiles had concealed the car on purpose. Which was a distinct possibility.
“Scott drove me here. I knew you would bolt if you knew I was here, so I asked him to bring me.”
“Ah.”
They both fell into an awkward silence. Derek wondered if there was anything he should be saying. Apologies, probably, but it seemed too little, too late. Anyway, his chest was still heavy with Stiles’ words, and looking at him right there… It felt like being stabbed and hoping against hope, wanting even if he knew better than to.
Derek wanted to leave. He needed to.
Derek moved forward, wanting to go to his nightstand and grab his things, but Stiles intercepted him, one hand raised in a gesture of wait.
“Okay, look, I want- I need you to tell me something, Derek. You kinda owe me this much, so just tell me why. Why did you do it? Gimme some reasoning here, be truthful, because you told me that you wanted to know me better, but I need to know why you needed it. Why you needed to get closer to me?”
That was the last thing Derek wanted to do, but Stiles was there, asking him to. Sure, maybe saying he owed Stiles that explanation was too much, but maybe Derek did. He licked his lips; suddenly his mouth felt too dry and his skin too tight. Maybe he was setting himself up for more humiliation, but he was leaving anyway. It didn’t matter, did it? He could literally open up and spill all his feelings on the loft’s floor; he would be long gone by the end of the day.
Still, Derek felt like protecting himself, like denying and hiding. It was second nature, self-preservation, but for once, he went against it.
“I guess I wanted you,” Derek said, voice rough. He didn’t see the expression Stiles had on his face; Derek was being careful to look anywhere but at him, though he heard the little intake of air."I thought doing that stupid profile was a way to get closer. Talking about what you liked."
Stiles’ heart was jackrabbiting in his chest and Derek wanted to look up, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.
“Why lying though? Why…?” Stiles trailed off, and his voice was barely a whisper, “Why Aaron?”
“There’s no good reason. I panicked and lied once." Derek sighed. Times like this made him wish he could get drunk."I just kept lying and lying. It got out of hand, but that was never planned. Aaron. It wasn’t planned from the start."
“Wait, let me get this straight: You… You panicked about playing a game to have something to talk about with me, lied about being you, made up Aaron to save your ass?”
Derek nodded. Stiles laughed, sounding incredulous.
“Jesus, this is so fucked up…” Stiles raised one finger, cocked his head to the side. He got this lost in thought expression, a far away look that Derek learned to appreciate with time, how Stiles could just stop moving for few seconds while his brain was obviously working at 100mph, “Wait, tell me something here. All that shit you made up for Aaron, they weren’t really lies, were they?”
Derek frowned, confused.
“What do you mean?”
Stiles made an impatient gesture, grunting while bounced his leg.
“New York, your–Aaron’s–siblings, everything you told me online. They weren’t likes. Were they?”
Startled at Stiles’ perceptiveness, Derek shook his head numbly. It wasn’t really a surprise that Stiles would connect the dots, but Derek hadn’t expected him anyway.
“I just changed some names, but- but it was mostly true. I did live in New York with Laura. My first girlfriend-”
“-Was Paige. Jesus. Fucking hell, Derek. Fucking hell." Stiles exclaimed, his voice violent and borderline angry.
“I’m sorry- I…” Derek hunched a bit, and Stiles made an impatient noise.
“No, listen. What you did was fucked up, and I need you to know that, that you can’t lie like that. You can’t, Derek—”
“I know." Derek interrupted, and Stiles made a shushing noise.
“—no, you don’t, shut up. You can’t lie like that. But. But a lot of that was you. You were Aaron, for real, in a lot of things. And I knew it was you anyway for longer than you tricked me. It was over. It was over for a long time, and…”
Stiles trailed off, paced around. Derek risked looking up, and Stiles was tugging his hands on his hair, making it stick on several different directions.
“This is going to be worse than pulling a tooth out, ” Stiles muttered to himself, louder than he probably intended to, “Okay, listen here, Derek. I- I said some mean things to you, and I was angry. I say some bad shit when I’m angry, you probably noticed that by now." Stiles said, in all self-deprecation and dry humor.
Derek snorted despite himself, because that was an understatement. Stiles went for the throat when he was angry, he held nothing back and used all his weapons without caring what kind of damage he would do. He only cared enough to hold back with Scott, maybe Lydia, definitely the Sheriff. Everyone else was a free target when Stiles was furious. Derek was, in fact, often the target.
Stiles blew some air out, breathed deeply, and kept talking.
“When I found out about you, I was mostly… Mostly hurt, because I couldn’t understand why you would do that to me. I kept thinking ‘why does he hate me so much? What have I done?’, and it was a pretty bad thing to think. And, at the same time, I was all… All- all hurt, I guess, because I’ve been entertaining all these- these feelings about you, and it was all so stupid.”
Stiles walked closer, and Derek let him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe; he just stood there and listened to Stiles, eyes glued on him.
“The shit that I hated most is that I liked you, alright. I liked you even after knowing you were an asshole. I liked you enough to go and engage Aaron more forcefully, sending all those nudes and flirting my ass off, because I knew it was you. And I wanted to do those things to- with you. But it had to be through Aaron.
“But honestly, I’m only rationalizing it now. Okay, I can’t say I wasn’t aware of what I was doing; but I didn’t want to be aware, and I’m so damn good at ignoring my own shit.”
Derek gaped at Stiles, eyes wide, throat dry. He didn’t dare hope, he couldn’t really. Part of him was so inclined to just give in, but Derek wasn’t stupid, and he felt that maybe that could also be part of Stiles’ vengeance. Give him hope, draw him in, and then crush him.
He opened his mouth to brush Stiles off, end that conversation before it went badly.
“Liked?” Derek muttered, and winced. He didn’t want to know.
Stiles shrugged, flexed his long fingers in a reflexive manner.
“Like, liked, stop fishing.”
“Stiles…”
“Yeah, well, okay, like. Present tense. Maybe I could even use gerund, it’s happening, it’s continuous. Or maybe-” Stiles rambled on and on, arms waving wild, and Derek stopped him, because Stiles looked incredibly distressed, and that wasn’t what he wanted.
Derek wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore, not when things looked attainable..
“I got it, Stiles.” Derek interrupted, and Stiles looked at him frowning slightly, before nodding.
“So, yeah. Bottom line here is: I like you, and I fucked up, but you fucked up too, and I’m here counting on you to feel the same way as I do, because maybe we can try and fix this. Maybe. If you want to."
Derek openly stared at Stiles, who stared back. He didn’t look like he was joking, or like he was lying, his heart was beating furiously inside his ribcage, but it had beat steady. Stiles wanted to try something, a relationship with Derek, even after everything.
It sounded surreal. Impossible. Inadvisable.
Derek wanted to say so many things. Like he liked (Loved, even) Stiles too. How he hated him for his deceiving. How he didn’t want to try, because they were both nutjobs, and it was certain to end in even bigger tragedy.
“Say something here, dude, you’re killing me with the silence, ” Stiles complained, making an spasmodic gesture with his arms, like he wanted to move, but his limbs had different ideas to which direction to take.
“I’m leaving town, ” Derek ended up saying, almost uncertain. Was he?
“What? No, you’re not."
Derek tried to will Stiles into understanding his side of things. He couldn’t stay where he wasn’t wanted. And even if there was this stupid thread of hope inside his chest, Derek knew that it was useless. Maybe Stiles could forgive him – one day, maybe. Hopefully. But the rest of the pack wouldn't.
“Stiles, it’s for the better if I just go. There’s nothing for me here.”
“Shut up. Jesus Christ, just shut up before I lose my shit with you, Derek.” Stiles exclaimed, throwing Derek a warning glance. Derek shut up. “You can’t just do this, you can’t just make a mess, and then skip town. You don’t get to do that, leave and pretend disappearing is the best way of going. What you do is staying, and trying to fix the mess you made.”
Derek closed his eyes, and said nothing in return. Yes, he was being a coward. But could he even be blamed? He was so tired of losing people, for once he wanted to be the one having control over how this loss goes. And Derek knew he wanted to spare himself the pain of a confrontation, but.
But Stiles was looking at him, furious, cheeks splotched red, and hair in a disarray where he had carded his fingers through it on a nervous gesture. Stiles was right. He had to stay.
“Scott–” Derek started, and Stiles talked over him.
“Is well aware of what you did. He pep talked me yesterday to come here, actually. He also said that he’s ripping you a new one once we figure our shit out, ” Stiles added and Derek blanched. Scott was nice, but he was also fiercely protective of Stiles, so Derek could only imagine what kind of talk it would be, “but honestly? He has all but giving his blessings.”
“You can’t be serious.” Derek stared at Stiles in complete disbelief
“I am,” Stiles said, completely impervious to Derek’s shock, “Lydia is angry, she’s probably going to be hell for awhile, but she’s going to get over it. Erica actually loves you, you know. So I’m pretty sure that if you left, she would go after you, and bring you back by the balls.”
It was too much. It was too absurd. It looked like things were going to be alright after all, and they never were. Not for Derek, anyway.
“This is ridiculous.” Derek said, and he would have walked away, if he could move past Stiles.
“Why?” Stiles asked, looking genuinely confused.
Derek exploded in motion, stepping forward, throwing his hands up in the air. Stiles was insane, completely so. Everything about them was wrong; they started wrong, what good could come out of that?
“I catfished you! I lied to you for months, I would keep lying if I could! And you- you lied to me…”
Stiles interrupted him, finally covering the entire distance, crowding Derek against the door. They were almost the same height, and though they were looking eye to eye, but Derek felt weirdly small.
“Wow, you do make a good case against yourself, huh? Well, listen up: we both fucked up. I’m willing to fix it now, if you are." Stiles touched Derek’s arm, fingertips barely there, but Derek could feel them like they were ablaze against his skin."Look, I spent three, almost four days, having this incredible and weird self-realization here. I didn’t want to let you go when I found out, Derek. That was three months ago. I pretty much made a decision about it back then. And I’m not saying what you did was okay, or good, or nice or whatever, really, but I am saying that I– I forgive you. I think I did three entire months ago. I just came to accept it only now."
Indecision held Derek in place, and Stiles didn’t move. He just waited, hands on his arms. It felt like they needed to talk about so much more, like there was nothing solved. But maybe they could do it later. Together.
“And maybe I want you to, you know, accept my apology here too,” Stiles said, looking soft, and almost fragile. Like he had been the one to actually do wrong between them. “I shouldn’t have lied. And I’m a bit sorry I was cruel. You maybe deserved it, but it didn’t mean I was right.”
There was the possibility of a together. A real one.
Derek knocked his head against the door, once, twice, before holding Stiles, hand on his waist. Stiles leaned into the touch, and Derek felt like his heart had relocated to his throat.
“We’re going to be awful at this, ” Derek whispered solemnly, and Stiles smirked, face so close to Derek’s he was nothing but a blur.
“Hey, we had the worst start, ” Stiles said, lips brushing Derek’s “It only goes up from here.”
They finally kissed, and Derek felt like he was so undeserving of it all, but Stiles’ lips were warm and receptive under his, and he couldn’t deny Stiles this. He couldn’t even hate himself for caving in, not when Stiles was offering what Derek always wanted. It felt wrong that he got to have it after everything that happened, but Derek supposed that was Stiles’ decision. So he opened his mouth under Stiles’ lips, and let his tongue slide against the warmth of Stiles’ mouth, hands fisting the fabric of Stiles’ shirt.
Stiles moaned low, and Derek pulled him closer, feeling them touching everywhere. Stiles felt like ever dreamed he would, and better. Derek could feel the hot trail of Stiles’ fingers even over his shirt, and it made him burn for more contact. Stiles nudged Derek’s kneed apart, and positioned his own leg between Derek’s, creating pressure in all the right places, so good, Derek couldn’t help but let out a tiny groan of pleasure.
“We should take this slow.” Derek said, breaking up the kiss. He was panting like a teenager making out in the back of his car, and the hand under Stiles’ shirt, fingers splayed over his skin, didn’t help maintaining Derek’s control. He felt feverish.
Stiles nodded, hiding his face in the crook of Derek’s neck. He rolled his hip forward, like he couldn’t help it, and Derek could feel Stiles moaning against his skin.
“We should? Oh God, this feels good– You think if we fucked now, it would make things more complicated?” Stiles asked, still moving.
Derek held his hips in place, thinking about what Stiles said. Derek didn’t know if it would make it more complicated, but he believed that they should at least try to make it as normal as they possibly could after everything they went through. They should talk, go out, date. Derek didn’t have the most healthy relationship history, and Stiles was painfully inexperienced in that front. THey needed to try and see if they would really connect as a couple. If they even wanted to really make this work, or if they were just desperate to make it work after everything they made each other go through.
It didn’t matter that they already knew each other, and it certainly didn’t count that they knew a lot about each other through deception. They had to at least go and try to fix things. Make it a good relationship, and most of all, a healthy one. For both of them.
“No, but I think… I think we should give ourselves time,” Derek started, a bit startled at his own words. For once he knew he was making the genuinely right call, instead of the most convenient one for himself, “And I think I would like to start setting things, well, right by taking you on a proper date.”
Stiles started open mouthed at Derek. He looked at him for a long time, lips moving soundless. He looked adorably dumbfounded, and Derek leaned in, and kissed the corner of his mouth, just because, for now, he could.
“You kidding me, right?” Stiles asked, “Oh my god, since when you’re a sensible person?”
“No, I’m not kidding. Stiles… I’m so sorry for what I did, and I think I’ll spend a long time saying I’m sorry–and it might never be enough. But I want to do this right. You deserve it. I deserve it.” Derek shrugged, and squeezed Stiles a bit, holding him close, before releasing him, “Also I am a sensible person. I just have… Moments of incredibly stupidity.”
Stiles laughed, but it wasn’t cruel or mocking, it sounded delighted. He put a tiny bit of space between their bodies, still holding Derek, but now they could talk without the overwhelming need to hump each other.
“Jesus, I should have known you were a romantic. Yeah, yeah, okay you have a point. We need to take this slow, and I’m sure we’ll fight a lot…” Stiles kissed Derek’s cheek, and it felt every bit as tentative as their kiss moments back hadn’t be. “You want this for real, don’t you?”
“I thought it was obvious.”
“Nothing is obvious with you, Derek. As much as I hate to say that, you’re right. We need to take this. We’ll need to talk a lot, and, y’know, do the communication thing, otherwise this fucked up beginning of ours will come back to bite us in the ass in the future.”
Derek smiled at the world “future”, and leaned closer, capturing Stiles’ lips again. They kissed, this time unhurriedly, exploring instead of demanding, and it felt better than anything Derek ever felt before in his life. Derek framed Stiles face with his hands, feeling the smoothness of his cheeks under his fingers.
“Good. Dinner today, then,” Derek said after they broke apart. It was maybe several minutes later, but they didn’t care, “then I’ll let myself be chewed by Scott, Lydia and Erica. And then we maybe could have a second date.”
“Second date, hm? Sounds like a plan.”